Dutch Treat IV: An Open Itinerary

Monday June 1^st, 2009.  Woke up Monday to a gently blaring elephant (one of the many fun alarms you can choose on your CitizenM touch pad) and took the much quicker tram this time to Centraal for a train ride to Arnhem.  Today’s destination was Hoge Veluwe National Park, somewhat compromised because it was Pentecost, a national holiday, and the splendid Kroller-Muller Museum within the park would be closed.  That would turn out to be the least of our worries after getting off the train.

My incomplete research indicated the first bus to Hoge Veluwe from the train departed at 10:10AM.  But we arrived around 11AM and soon discovered there were only three more buses all day!  We hung out at the taxi stand, but nothing doing on Pentecost.  We searched for a place to rent bikes, nothing doing on Pentecost.  So we walked towards the National Park, but we didn’t see any signs and absolutely everything was closed.  Asked the sole pedestrian we encountered if she knew the way, and she had no idea.  Well, it was a lovely day and Rudolph had spoken glowingly of Utrecht, so back to the train station!

Kim and I fared much better in Utrecht than in Arnhem.  The station here abuts a cavernous shopping mall, the Hoog Catharijne, a somewhat sterile environment but the shops were open.  Once we waded through the complex it was a treat to enter into a beautiful old city with two major canals, an “old” and a “new”.  Of course the baby of the two, the Nieuwegracht was completed in the fourteenth century!

Dominating the skyline is the impressive Domtoren, a towering cathedral completed 600 years ago.  Lured in by this ancient scenery, we strolled about canals thronged with a mass of people despite most of the shops being shuttered once more.  This time many of the eateries were open, however, and the Graaf Floris, advertising traditional Dutch cuisine, caught our eye.  We popped in and Kim ordered a cheese pancake for lunch, which she enjoyed as much as I did my croquettes.

The Domtoren in Utrecht

Then back to the streets and enjoying another sunny day by walking all around.  Even the canals were jammed today, with every conceivable type of watercraft plying Utrecht’s waters.  Some were luxurious, many appeared fortunate to be afloat, but all were packed with passengers, each with food or drink in hand.  We gave the water traffic a closer inspection by climbing down a steep stairway to a café on the canal, where we savored a leisurely cup of coffee before returning back to the train station.

This time we debarked at Amsterdam Centraal intent on walking back to the CitizenM.  Being in continuous motion all day had us ready for dinner and Kim wanted to find Bird, a Thai restaurant on Zeedijk Street she had read favorable reviews about.  It took us forever just to find this street in the downtown jumble (unlike Utrecht and elsewhere, these crowds were more intimidating than welcoming), but a great find – our dinner was fantastic.

After a scrumptious meal we started towards home, but we were a bit fed up with our Amsterdam street maps by this point and Kim had the best idea yet à let’s stop at a junk shop and get a good one.  We did and made steady progress, although we had to pull it out frequently and pin down our current location to calculate next steps.  At one point I unfolded our trusty guide and a rather shabby, but very articulate gentleman walked up and immediately placed his finger on our location.  He asked where we were bound and quickly traced the swiftest path with an unlit cigarette he was holding.  We thanked him, at which point he politely asked for some small compensation for services and we gave him a couple euro.

His advice proved spot on and despite the distance to cover, we soon found ourselves back at CitizenM where we relaxed into what was becoming a ritual: a nightcap and catching up on e-mail in the lobby.  Your room key doubles as a charge card within the hotel, making it very convenient to fall into this groove.  An important warning, however, is that there are only pictures indicating the gender of toilets in the lobby and they don’t look too different.  Our first night Kim had to ask Rudolph to interpret which was which, and tonight we saw a woman walk into the men’s room!  If you do stay at CitizenM, the “man” (despite his powdered wig and apparent dress) is the image with a cane.

Tomorrow was Tuesday, our day to tour Den Haag (The Hague) with Rudolph!

Marathon Training

December 29^th, 2010.   Time for a reality check.  Is it honestly feasible for a Type I diabetic to attempt something as ludicrous as Le Grand Raid?  I’ve been tossing out my travel journals to illustrate diabetics shouldn’t be limited in their travel aspirations and I am endeavoring to extend that notion to the physical realm, but sometimes I get cornered by the thought…are you crazy to think you can run this ultra-marathon?

Thus far I’ve been mindful and thankfully avoided any low episodes throughout my training (and I’ve slogged 460 miles thus far), but the runs are getting longer and I recognize I am at risk. It is hard to describe the confusion that grips when your blood sugar goes low, but I am comforted by how amazing it is that you can overcome this by being cognizant it is happening.  It is those times when you aren’t paying attention to where your head is when you are most vulnerable, and once you lapse into a serious low it is a potentially catastrophic situation.

Folks are concerned I run alone, but perhaps the oxymoron is that running solo might be the best thing.  The worst low episodes always seem to occur around others, because I am rapt by what else is going on.  By my lonesome I tend to focus inward and am better able to detect when blood sugar is tumbling.  My dilemma is especially critical when it is just me and my daughter.   I want to be a good parent and the pattern seems to be that paying attention to my daughter’s needs distracts me from gauging when I am slipping into hypoglycemia (low blood sugar).  This was the spur for starting up the monthly 3x5 card reminders…and I actually call them the “take care of yourself first cards”.

So far so good on the training, although I am keenly aware that it only takes a single screw up to wreak great havoc and perhaps I’m feeling trepidation around the twelve mile run scheduled for Sunday.  The tension is probably a good thing and will keep me on my toes…because the whole dilemma is being vigilant with checking in.  It’s gonna be over an hour and a half for Sunday’s run and that’s a long time to keep the vigil.

Hopefully writing the fear out in this blog will serve to keep me on guard.

Dutch Treat III: Spring Tour

Sunday May 31^st, 2009.  A key reason we needed to meet up with Rudolph right away was to snag the Spring Tour tickets he so graciously picked up for us.  They would expire after Monday and we wanted to use them for the long haul to Friesland.  So we set out for the train station Sunday morning and inquired how to arrive at Sneek.  We were informed to take a connection to Leeuwarden through Amersfoort, but somehow we wound up in Groningen (Rudolph would soon teach us that they can print out an itinerary for you right at the station).

This was no problem as we just caught a different train to Leeuwarden, and our brief layover afforded the first chance to utilize a ‘pay to pee’ lavatory.  You drop 50 cents (euro cents) onto a plate to gain access to the toilets at the station.  The one in Groningen was kept spotless by attendants manning either gender’s facilities, though the few subsequent potty visits would never get close to this good experience.

The last leg to Sneek from Leeuwarden was on a ‘stoptrain’, or one that sets down at every single station along the way (i.e., the ones you avoid unless you need them to reach your final destination).  Though tedious, the distance was not great and about a half hour later we arrived at Kim’s ancestral homeland.  The ride was pretty, passing through a landscape of flat, marshy fields inhabited by cows, sheep and (surprisingly) quite a few horses that resembled dark Clydesdales.  Another tidbit Rudolph would later share was that these were Frisian horses, a graceful breed famous in Europe.

Sneek is a pretty village crisscrossed by canals.  Our first exposure to a rural Dutch town, we were charmed by the narrow houses lining the canals, each boasting a lovely and well maintained garden.  We got our bearings and headed towards the Waterspoort (water gate), the best known landmark of the village.  I loved Kim’s smile as we trooped about, she was clearly gleeful to be ‘back home’.

Home again for the first time

After enjoying the Waterspoort we sought out a lunch spot, but virtually everything was closed on Sunday.  No retail stores were open and the only restaurant near the Waterspoort that was open was Fried Chicken (isn’t that inviting?), where we nabbed a couple haring (herring) sandwiches.   Though tasty, mine would have benefited from some mustard and there weren’t any condiments on the table or at a separate station.  I was amused when I saw on the menu that you had to pay extra for mustard, even for ketchup!

Waterspoort in Sneek

We schlepped about a bit more, but with everything closed it wasn’t very exciting.  We did come across a small cluster of eateries that were open for business on our return to the station and splurged on some frites: french fries you can get served with mayonnaise.  Kim and I both swore this was the first and last time we would ever nosh on this tasty treat – Dutch clogs, yes, clogged arteries, no!  But dang they were good.

The Dam Computer shop was closed too…

Back at the station we sat in the sun and awaited the next stoptrain (only one per hour on Sundays so we had to wait a bit), but it was a gorgeous day, sunny and warm.  When we returned to Leeuwarden we opted to hop off and explore a bit.  Like Sneek, however, everything was closed despite there being plenty of folks walking, biking or sitting outside.  At one intersection Kim noted we were at Mata Hariplein (Mata Hari Square) and we scouted around for a statue or any more tangible evidence that Leeuwarden was the home of the famed WWI spy.  We didn’t find anything and soon hiked back to the station.

This time we stayed aboard the entire way back to Amsterdam’s Centraal Station in the heart of downtown.  Talk about night and day, everything was open here.  But our first impression was not entirely favorable because it seemed to be a throbbing mass of humanity plodding about an endless succession of trash and trinket shops.  We did find a nice spot for dinner, an Italian restaurant named November, where the food was only passable, but Kim had an excellent flight of wine (a Veltliner from Austria, a French Merlot and desert wine that went well with her cheese plate for dessert).

The entertainment was grand though.  November is a couple doors down from a coffee shop and there was a dude sitting alone at a wee table in front of the coffee shop, contentedly grinning while puffing his way through three enormous joints as we enjoyed dinner.  We thought he must have lived above the shop and just floated home after his session…

On the way back to Centraal Kim picked up a baguette and round of Gouda for breakfast and/or lunch tomorrow.  We took the train home since it didn’t cost anything, but discovered it takes about thirty-five minutes…much longer than a tram.  We capped our first full day with a nightcap at CitizenM, Kim ordering genever straight up.  I took a sip, but as I pretty much stick to beer had no opinion – Kim thought it was good, but didn’t approach the wow factor as something new and exciting

The Tough Get Going…

December 25^th, 2010.   Had a few days off work for holidays and vacation, providing ample time to get in my training runs.  Tuesday was a fifty minute session and I squeezed in a bit over six miles for a sub-eight minute pace, which felt really good.  Then Thursday was the second “tempo” workout à I used an identical route and covered an identical distance.  Felt this was a good thing since I really don’t want to push myself too hard and wind up injuring myself like I did during the half marathon training.

There was a ten mile run scheduled for Sunday (tomorrow), but Christmas festivities accelerated the routine.  Eric (stepson #2) has been in this week from Phoenix and Chip (stepson #1) and his wife came down Christmas Eve.  For lunch on Christmas Eve, Eric wanted to hit Flaming Amy’s Burrito Barn, an old favorite from when he lived here.  This started a calorie cascade, as the burritos at Amy’s are enormous (I always chuckle when recalling how they were described in our local newspaper as roughly the size “of a small dog”).

This was followed by a significant seafood feast that night, including oysters (we bought a bushel and roasted them ourselves, so shucking them is part of the messy fun!), shrimp, clams and pasta.  Of course Christmas morning was yet another sizable feast, featuring my wife’s yummy breakfast casserole.

You won’t be surprised to learn my blood sugar was through the roof when I tested around noon, and there was one more cavalcade of food yet to come this evening.  Add to this the weather forecast, which predicts rain and snow tomorrow morning.  The going was getting tough, so I figured I’d better get going.  It was cloudy but still fairly warm this afternoon so put the sneakers on (and the new running socks Kim got me as a Christmas gift!) and hit the road.

Headed north on Carolina Beach Road today (I usually head south) and did a big loop.  Even though I had packed along plenty of snacks and one of my water bottles was filled with G2, I required no additional fuel and only slugged down water for the entire route.  My pace was 8:35 minute miles (if I accurately measured the mileage), an encouraging rate for ten miles and a nice Christmas present to myself.

Dutch Treat II: Don’t Try This at Home!

May 29^h, 2009.  The venture is off to a miserable start.  We were supposed to leave Wilmington around 4PM this afternoon to hook up with a red eye that delivers us to Amsterdam 8:35 Saturday morning.  Even though it is a beautiful day in North Carolina, there are t-storms in Philly and ground stops cause us to sit three hours on the tarmac before lift-off.

We touch down in Philadelphia and hustle to the International terminal, fully aware our Amsterdam connection is long gone.  The only good news is that there is no line at the Special Services desk where we try to cull options from the cranky woman behind the counter (perhaps her day hasn’t been pleasant, but we baked for hours while stressing out about missing a flight to Europe…shouldn’t we be the cranky ones?).  The sad lesson is that there’s only one flight per day from Philly to European destinations, so we’re screwed.  The few remaining European flights tonight wouldn’t have a connection that would get us to Amsterdam any sooner than waiting for tomorrow evening’s departure.

We ask what’s left?  Only Brussels, which is boarding now, but we would miss the connection and arrive later than the direct flight tomorrow…yada….yada…yada….

But a friend of Kim’s used to work in Amsterdam and urged us to take the train to visit Brussels during our excursion.  So why not arrive in Brussels Saturday morning and hop a train the rest of the way?  We toss it around as the attendant grows increasingly agitated that the flight is leaving, so we tell her two tickets to Brussels (she is quite astonished when we tell her to forget the Amsterdam connection).  Then we race to the departure gate --- we make it a point to travel carry-on for just such emergencies, so you can imagine we were somewhat laden.

We reach the gate out of breath and after turning in our boarding passes discover there are still people on the ramp waiting to get on the plane!  Suppressing our urge to run back to Special Services and deliver a series of backhands to the cranky attendant, we wait our turn.  Our seats are a few rows apart, but a Belgian woman beside Kim assures her a train ride to Amsterdam would be quite easy.  I pass along Rudolph’s e-mail address to Kim so she can ask him for any details he might be able to share (Kim has her blackberry along) – isn’t it awesome to have foreign friends for such emergencies?

Things aren’t going according to plan, but we’re off!  They close the doors and nobody is sitting in my row so Kim moves beside me, a positive omen at last.

Saturday, May 30^th, 2009.  So we complete the red eye and arrive in Brussels Saturday morning.  Getting in to the country is a breeze and after scoring some lunch items to enjoy on the train, we try to get on board one headed towards Amsterdam.  The station is in the basement of the airport, and sure enough, a fare to Amsterdam is no big deal (and less than a hotel would have cost in Philly last night).  The attendant selling tickets informs us there’s only one transfer between here and Amsterdam, so we head to the platforms.

After identifying our train, who do we see through the window but the Belgium woman Kim sat beside for a few minutes at the beginning of our flight. We climb aboard and settle in beside her.  A few minutes later we are like old friends, amazed that Gertie is returning home after a business trip to Dayton, Ohio (where I travel for business each month).  Gertie alerts us when we arrive at our stop and we quickly promise to look for each other in the Dayton airport when heading home on a Friday evening.  Of course Kim and I are still novices at the train game, but Gertie scrambles off and points to a train exclaiming “that’s the one you want”.

Now settled in for a longer haul, we eat lunch and try to make sense of the train schedules.  Confidence that we are indeed on the right train lags as we pull into Antwerp, so I ask a disembarking woman whether we’ll end up in Amsterdam and she tells us we better get off with her because this is not the one we want.  In what would become an embarrassing repetition, I addressed the woman in Dutch (quite similar to the Flemish spoken in Belgium, somewhat like the difference between English spoken in America and the UK) and after pausing for a moment she exclaims, “Oh, English” and addresses us in perfect English!

Antwerp is a cavernous train station and we are utterly lost, but the woman from the train appears out of nowhere and urges us to follow her.  She shepherds us to several platforms (the first time was wrong because she thought we had tickets for the express Thalys run).  The outpouring of friendly assistance is the warmest welcome one could hope for, and now we relax for the first time since the trip began, seeing Schiphol (the Amsterdam airport) is one of our scheduled stops.

A useful lesson from the train trip was that the entire EU is somewhat like a single country.  I was surprised the train rolled across the Belgium-Netherlands border without stopping to check passports…isn’t that convenient?

Arriving at Schiphol, we had to undergo another learning curve to score a train ticket to the Amsterdam Zuid station (just one stop away).  Of course this was rather basic and shortly we had only to make the promised “ten minute walk” to CitizenM from the final station.  This however, turned out to be the most frustrating part of the trip.  Our confirmation instructed us to simply walk past the WTC (World Trade Center) and “follow the signs”…but there weren’t any for CitizenM!  Without the promised signage, the only thing we had to go on was their address on Prinses Irenestraat, and two people we asked had no clue where that was.  We made wider circles around the station and eventually cornered our lodging.

At Last….CitizenM!

Our exasperation evaporated immediately upon entering Citizen M – what a cool place! They also have a location right at Schiphol Airport which opened last year; this one only opened last month.

After moving in and feeling good about our plan to park at Amsterdam the entire week so we weren’t schlepping luggage around, it was time to call Rudolph and see if he wanted to join us for dinner.  Rudolph foreshadowed how tightly Netherlands train’s run to schedule when he told us he would be at the CitizenM “about 6:08PM”, lol.  Really was great to meet Rudolph and the three of us immediately started gabbing over a drink from the bar at the hotel.  Draft Heineken’s for the boys, but Kim had spied a Genever Cosmopolitan on the menu.  Genever is a Dutch liquor, similar to gin.  Rudolph would answer roughly 100,000 questions about his country and culture, but piped up without prompting that the best way to savor genever was straight up with a beer chaser – Kim promised to do things the proper way next time.

The chat continued long after our drinks had been emptied, so after an hour or so we headed out to find dinner.  Following the suggestion of one of the CitizenM crew, we turned left on Beethovenstraat and agreed on Fidelio’s, a restaurant several blocks away.  The food was unremarkable, but the chat continued non-stop until around 10:30 when Kim and I were physically ready to drop though neither really wanted the discussion to end.  We parted back at CitizenM since Rudolph still had to catch his train home to Den Haag.  Kim and I had another beer in the lobby before climbing into our incredibly comfortable bed…an hour and half BEFORE our re-scheduled flight to Amsterdam would have lifted off from Philly!  J

Running towards the Holidays

December 21^st, 2010.  Several more training runs back in North Carolina and the first one last Thursday was my introduction to “tempo” loops.  This is another nuance for me, and as much as I try to march to my own drumbeat, I confess gladly dismissing any reluctance over accepting the training modules from those in the know.

The gist of tempo loops is to run for ten minutes at an easy pace, then ramp up to a pace “just above your comfort level” for five minutes.  You walk briskly for a minute after this to catch your breath and repeat the routine twice.  The tempos get accelerated as the training progresses, bumping up to two ten minute intervals and finally a single twenty minute burst.

I want to convince myself that I ran harder than “just above my comfort level” (it sounds so meek), and whether I did or not I can share that I was struggling during the final five minute acceleration!  But I do applaud the authors of the training regimen, as this strikes me as a brilliant method to encourage anybody to improve their long distance pace.

Confess great uncertainty over my earlier stated goal to log a full marathon in four hours.  Really didn’t feel too bad logging that pace for the half, but a bit silly to think I can double that effort.  The litmus test might prove to be the ten mile run scheduled for next Sunday.  I typically tackle the long runs at a nine minute pace, but I can clock off six miles at an eight minute pace these days and perhaps it is time to push things for the longer routes?

My training manual provides little guidance beyond running briskly for these extended voyages, so it is up to me.  I need to balance any aggressive pace with consideration for how it might impact my blood sugar levels, so the tentative plan will be to pay extra-special attention to how I’m feeling and be sure to pack plenty of calories in my water belt!

Dutch Treat I: Intro

May, 2009.  Windmills and wooden shoes.  That’s what pops into my mind when I hear somebody refer to the Dutch, shamefully reinforcing the scant knowledge I possess about most places and people on our planet.  But once again the allure of travel invites me to appreciate the diversity of our globe and get in touch with the Dutch.

The motivation for this trip is very cool – a birthday present to my wife (well, the plane fare anyway), whose maiden name is Fylstra.  Kim’s ancestors hailed from the village of Sneek (pronounced ‘snake’) in the Netherlands province of Friesland.  The first lesson offered by the proposition was that the Netherlands consists of twelve provinces – two of which are North and South Holland.  Pretty sure I never distinguished between Holland and the Netherlands before, so travel enlightens me to appreciate that Holland is not a distinct country, but a subset of the Netherlands.

Initial investigation of the Dutch validates that this country is very liberal, though I doubt we will partake of offerings at a ‘coffee shop’ since I have scant confidence my claim that it was “legal at the time” would insulate me from random drug tests where I am employed.  Researching the Netherlands would also prompt me to dwell seriously on WWII.  Only in the past few years have I recognized the extent of agony inflicted by my ancestors (loosely, Western Europeans) on other cultures.  The sad testament is how pervasive this calamity proves – no matter where you go it seems my predecessors wrought death and destruction and it is shallow comfort that the travesties of WWII were largely self-inflicted.

I never read Anne Frank’s Diary: it remained on the “to do” list with a bazillion other books I want to read some day.  But a visit to Amsterdam, where Anne’s story unfolded, prompted me to finally digest this brilliant and tragic work (and I am happy to share that I passed it on to my daughter at her request after she noticed me reading it).  My surprise was how little it really dwelled on the terrors inflicted upon Jews during the Holocaust.  Though I always perceived the import of this book was detailing that suffering, it really is about a young woman growing up.  But Anne’s story was ended by the Holocaust and the truly sobering realization was that Anne Frank could be an eighty-year old grandmother today, in 2009, had her life not been ended by incomprehensible hatred.   Recognizing how recent this horror was forces one to ponder whether or not we can really consider ourselves civilized.

If more folks had travel as their muse, interacting with other cultures would help dismiss the ignorance which breeds these travesties.  Remaining isolated and insulated makes one wary and mistrustful.  Ignorance isn’t bliss, ignorance is miss: missing out on an appreciation of how similar we are despite the fascinating diversity of our planet.

Though my opportunity to get out and explore this diversity is sorely limited, I strive to intermingle with other folks around the globe through the internet.  A facet of the Netherlands trip will be to personally meet a Dutch friend I have been corresponding with for several years now.  Rudolph lives in Den Haag (The Hague) and has been an invaluable resource, tirelessly answering our myriad questions. After sharing that we wanted to take the train to Friesland, Rudolph alerted us to the availability of ‘Spring Tour’ tickets, which permit you to ride unlimited distances in first class and even purchased a pair on our behalf before they were all gone!  Better yet, Rudolph is taking a day off from work to give us a personal tour of his home town. 

Kim and I are very excited.

Frosty the Go-Man

December 16^th, 2010.  Feeling somewhat redeemed over my grousing about cold weather.  Another road trip to Dayton this week and it was bitter cold.  Last week my wife was already shivering because the daily lows in North Carolina were forecast to plummet to the low twenties (which happens in North Carolina, but not quite so early in the season).  Her observation prompted me to check out the Ohio weather and there the high temps were only low twenties!

So I was braced for the full winter experience, and witnessing the country sides blanketed in snow as my flight touched down Monday provided a boost of Christmas spirit.  But it was bitter, bitter cold and with wind chill hovering about zero, running wasn’t appealing.  Since I only needed to get in one run of fifty minutes during my trip I pushed it out a day until Wednesday.  The other option would have been to use the treadmills in my company’s excellent gym facility…but for some reason I refuse to do that.

I have used treadmills before, but I need to be outside and experience progress by changing scenery.  Digital readouts advising me of how far I’ve ventured just doesn’t hold much satisfaction.  And despite all of the unplowed sidewalks, heading outdoors yielded a nice shot of motivation.

Plodding down snowy paths helped me recognize the need to train on rough terrain.  After all, Le Grand Raid is a demanding ultra-marathon by virtue of rolling up and down volcanic cones rather than paved roadways.  Paying careful attention to each footfall in the snow was probably excellent preparation.

In addition, it is just so darn beautiful running through the snow.  Once I warmed up, the blanket of white became a wonderful change of scenery for familiar routes.  None of my earlier training runs in Dayton exceeded forty minutes, so I aimlessly zig-zagged and wound up running for fifty-five minutes because I strayed a bit too far from the office.

But a great run.  Some days this challenge reveals really cool wonders.

Bio Bay Essay Part III (June 12th, 2007): Last Day on Vieques

Our vacation would extend beyond Vieques, but I will cut things off with our final day on this splendid island.  Puerto Rico has a wealth of charm, but the emphasis of this blog is to strike out and discover unfamiliar new horizons.  It wasn’t a particularly bold initiative, but we did strike out during our final day here to try and grab the island’s vibe…

The last day on Vieques  we took a cab ride across the island to spend a few hours exploring the only town of any size besides Isabela, Esperanza.  Esperanza is charming in its own beat-up way.  Positioned on a pretty bay on the southern half of Vieques, it is reminiscent of being in the Florida Keys.  Our drive to Esperanza was highlighted by seeing horses tied up in front of many houses, not unlike a parked car.  There are a lot of small, wild horses running around the island – these are “Paso Fino”, descendants of horses brought over by Spanish conquistadors centuries ago.  Be careful if you rent a car here as I heard several folks talk about hitting a horse with their car and spotted two vehicles that seemed to have experienced an unfortunate encounter with a Paso Fino.

It is so sad the legal drinking for dogs is six months here…

There are only a few art/gift stores, several bars and one museum, but the town has a great vibe.  All these centered right along the shoreline and the pretty boardwalk, the ‘malecon’.  We enjoyed watching a bunch of children run off the pier and swim in the bay, and had a tasty lunch at Banana’s.  Of course we purchased the necessary tacky magnet for Vieques in Esperanza too.

The Malecon at Esperanza

A wonderful visit to an unknown gem of America.  Striking out can provide generous returns even when it is an easy venture, and glorious destinations abound.

Baby it’s COLD Outside!

December 12^th, 2010.  Hard to believe how much I moaned about running in the heat.  I am conflicted as to whether heat or cold is the bigger nemesis, because they both suck.  I detested running in the baking North Carolina sun because it enervated quickly and forced a slower pace to maintain any level of comfort.  When it is freezing, however, there are no options.  You can run as hard as you want, but winter still nips at your fingertips and toes.

The good news is that there are no hurdles to running hard when it gets chilly.  Perhaps I should utter that there are no excuses for reducing the pace!  During my trot yesterday I passed a fellow walking his dog and he exclaimed “I don’t think you can stay warm even when you go that fast” --- nodded my head and responded that the temperature provided “good motivation”.  Admit I do enjoy being unleashed to run vigorously, but it is with reluctance because of all the extra clothing.  I usually don shorts and a muscle shirt to go running, but now I poke my nose outside to assess how many layers, in addition to requirements for a hat and gloves.

Of course the conundrum only persists along the first half mile or so.  If you over-dress to minimize the initial discomfort, you overheat for the balance.  I usually opt to endure the initial brunt, but the first half mile is brutal!  What happened to the days in Maine?  When I accepted winter this was not an issue and trudging along snow swept landscapes was beautiful (and blissfully quieter).  Difficult to fathom my objections in North Carolina when running in Maine posed no objections in a much chillier environment (though it may have been that I possessed better insulated garments).

Perhaps the bigger dilemma is running four days a week now.  It doesn’t bother me so much running long distances in cold weather, as it is diametrically opposed to plodding long distances in summer heat --- the pain is relatively brief at the start, quite unlike summer runs where the beginning is ecstasy but soon becomes a burden with heat accumulation.  Without a day off between training legs, however, I am a bit stiff when running consecutive days and the cold exacerbates the discomfort.

But I guess it is all part of the long distance learning curve.  Ran nine miles today and had a bottle of G2 and a bottle of water in my belt.  The G2 is really refreshing and I enjoy having the option of supplying minimal calorie content (along with electrolytes!) to the earlier portions of long runs.  In the next few weeks I will be extending my long run dramatically and this is the time to work out the kinks in keeping a diabetic body properly fueled

Today I sucked down my first gulps of G2 five miles into the run and it was really tasty (remember that I rarely sample sugar).  I wasn’t kidding myself that this was seriously replenishing calories and gobbled a Clif Bar at mile seven.   A much better experience than during the half marathon, probably because I could anticipate the discomfort of chewing and swallowing while running.  Slowed my pace a bit to make ingestion easier and it proved a welcome break from the routine as it gets a bit dull and repetitive when you run for more than one hour.

Bio Bay Essay Part II (June 11th, 2007): Taking the Plunge

Today was our bio-bay day.  I had reserved a tour of the world’s premiere bio-luminescent bay some time ago and hoped to gain valuable details by engaging the resort’s concierge before our departure.  Unfortunately, our concierge knew zippo (she had never been on the tour) and beyond assuring me repeatedly that there would be towels provided, was worthless.  I was excited to learn from the gift shop attendant that it was a kayak tour, although that implied a water-proof camera if we wanted to take any pictures, and the gift shop was sold out.  So, I returned to see the concierge and inquire whether the van driver could stop somewhere in Isabela (one of the two main towns on Vieques) so we could score necessary photo equipment.

She initially told me it was unlikely, but subsequently reported that she had spoken with the driver and he would stop to accord my request - cool!  Of course the van driver screamed into the resort parking lot and after loading us up (our party of three + one other couple) in his trashy van that had garbage everywhere and tons of crushed beer cans beneath the seats, started towards the bay on the opposite side of the island.  I spoke up and asked if he was going to stop to acquire the underwater camera and he mumbled that none were available.  I countered that I would accept any disposable camera (hells bells…if it gets trashed, who cares?), but he replied that nobody had any cameras --- yeah, right, there goes your tip.

At this point we were a bit discouraged, but after tooling a half mile down a rutted muddy lane to a point of water we would be greeted by Eddie, who completely rescued our morale.  A native Puerto Rican who spent half his life in New York City, Eddie got us all in the water quickly (without any instruction…which appalled me as someone who had kayaked before --- it doesn’t take long to grasp kayaking essentials, but you do need some instruction in the basics).

But it was all good.  I had to ask my daughter to pull in her paddle and kayaked solo toward the lake’s center, where we soon gained Eddie’s buoy (it seems all the tours have their own buoys to tie off --- it is very cool that the tours are limited to kayaks as gasoline exhaust kills dinoflagellates).  I was amused how slowly the other couple on our tour progressed: without proper instruction they were criss-crossing back and forth at an abysmal rate.  Guess I should note that our daughter wanted to ride with me and Kim got to ride with Eddie since our group was an odd number.

Once we gained the buoy, Eddie tied us all off and provided an informative discourse of how the dinoflagellates emit light to scare away predators, how their conservation has been much enhanced by eliminating gas engines form the bay and asking people to only use ‘natural’ bug repellant (both are harmful to dinoflagellates).  For us humans about to jump off kayaks into the bay, Eddie assured us that the only danger was a ‘mild’ jellyfish which had stung him about five times in the past two years.

In hindsight we are incredulous.  Although Eddie accurately described the jellyfish intrusion as similar to a bee sting that goes away after fifteen minutes, Kim got nailed three times, myself once, another tour member once and even Eddie declared he had been nabbed again.  It was decidedly unpleasant, but not deadly, and despite feeling the after-effects for about an hour, Kim and I felt we had truly experienced the bay, lol.  We were also exultant that Spencer hadn’t been nailed, which likely would have ruined her whole experience.

But I have omitted the magic.  There is nothing to compare with what happens as night falls over Mosquito Bay on Vieques.  The light which theses creatures emit is just totally the experience of your life!  You wave your hands and feel like a superhero as it appears you are hurling lightning bolts!  And if you should grasp a handful of water and douse it upon yourself, it is like beads of sunlight in the dark.  I think the best way to relate this experience is to say that I felt like Tinkerbell spreading fairy dust!!!

The ultimate part of the expedition was the return.  It was pitch dark as we crawled back upon our kayaks to paddle back and prime time for the show.  Every time you dipped you paddle into the water there was an explosion of light – and more spectacular was how the bow of your kayak, just by breaching water, generated light.  As your bow shoots sparks it scares fish ahead of you and they scoot away, appearing like long, glowing eels since the fishes movement also throws off light (they ultimately head to the depths and stop moving).  It felt like we were guiding an eerie, glowing UFO back to the shore, rather than paddling at night!

Truth be told, I am sure that it requires a serious effort to take quality pictures of this phenomena, so we weren’t filled with regret at being without a camera.  But I can only recommend taking this trip to experience one of mother nature’s truly enthralling miracles.  Check out www.biobay.com to learn more.

Way Out West

December 4th, 2010:  Added the fifth state I’ve trod in during my training for Le Grand Raid.  Eric is the younger of my two stepsons and landed in Phoenix after graduating college a couple years ago.  He works long hours and doesn’t get much opportunity to strike out and explore his back yard.  By now you know I am a big fan of exploration, so each December I try to get out for a long weekend so we can check out his neighborhood.

This year we opted to head south to Tucson, where we checked out Biosphere 2 and Saguaro National Park.  It was a brilliant adventure and I found Tucson to be an inviting destination.

Biosphere 2 outside of Tucson, AZ

The Biosphere is the self-contained environment where they sealed four women and four men inside for two years back in the early nineties.  A lot of lessons were learned (the human inhabitant’s diet was mainly vegetables, but they had chickens, goats and pigs, and even raised tilapia in a simulated ocean environment), but a subsequent mission turned out to be a disastrous soap opera and had to be terminated early.  Today the facility is not really a biosphere because it isn’t sealed off, but remains an active research lab and is quite interesting to check out!

The next day we hiked about four miles in Saguaro National Park.  You are probably familiar with saguaro cactus – these guys get really big and are the archetype of prickly plant life.  Their existence is pretty much limited to the Sonoran Desert, which sweeps through Mexico and Arizona, but there is slightly more rainfall around Tucson so the saguaro grow REALLY big here and the magnificent stands here urged the establishment of a National Park.

Oddly enough, Saguaro National Park is divided and exists on either side of Tucson.  Eric and I tackled the western half because it was on the way back to Phoenix.  There is a wonderful variety of cacti here and we learned to identify quite a few varieties, thought the majestic saguaro were obviously the show stopper.  They are enormous and it is so much fun imagining vignettes based upon the poses they strike.

These guys are waving hello to us!

What I mean by that is that it is easy to visualize images from how the arms of one or more saguaro are presented (not unlike what you can do with clouds in the sky).  It is difficult to fathom that saguaro don’t sprout arms until they’re at least seventy five years old!  It was with great respect that we savored the trails through this splendid national park.

But all too soon it was time to head back to Phoenix.  I was scheduled for a six mile run today, and Eric showed me his excellent running route which is a 2.3 mile loop.  The road his apartment complex sits on is actually a circle so you just circumnavigate.  Temperature was in the seventies and it was so comfortable running that I completed three loops, an excellent way to add the fifth US State trained in during preparation for Le Grand Raid.

One of the splendid vistas at Saguaro National Park

Bio Bay Essay Part I (June 10th, 2007): Bright Ideas

Don’t want you to think that I am constantly abandoning my family to ramble about the globe…only including the more exotic adventures to reinforce that the world is wide open with or without diabetes.  My wife and I share a love of travel that we desire to pass on to our daughter, which led to the three of us venturing to Puerto Rico in the summer of 2007 to check out the bioluminescent bays of Vieques.

I think most folks who have been out on a boat at night have witnessed a fascinating phosphorescent glow in the water.  This strange light is emitted by dinoflagellates, half-plant, half-animal creatures who have evolved the ability to beam light as a defense mechanism (the flashes are a response to water movement and chases off predators). The phenomenon occurs world-wide, but many believe the most spectacular light shows occur at Vieques, where two inland bays receive the creatures from tidal activity and permit them to thrive due to the shelter they provide.

Once again new travels taught me how much I didn’t know.  Fortunate enough to have visited the Caribbean several times, I can boast familiarity with the British and US Virgin Islands, but was astonished to learn that along with its sister island, Vieques and Culebra make up the Spanish Virgin Islands.  Who knew?

Both islands are part of Puerto Rico and we took a quick propeller plane flight from San Juan to reach Vieques.   We sketched the north-eastern coast of Puerto Rico from a low elevation that afforded great views of the beautiful beaches and only 25 minutes later we touched down on Vieques.  A new adventure was on!

We had booked Martineau Bay for our time on Vieques, the only “resort” lodging there (I think the property has been leveled and completely re-constructed as a W Hotel since our stay).  The rates were reasonable because we were visiting Puerto Rico off-season, as in hurricane season.  We had experience with this weather from our time in Corpus Christi – we had to evacuate when Rita hit – and felt June was early enough in the nasty times to take advantage of lower rates without exposing ourselves to serious jeopardy.

So let me share a brief history of Vieques.  This small island about seven miles off the east coast of Puerto Rico has remained unheralded because of circumstance.  Virtually uninhabited for most of its existence, it is a petite destination, quite dry as it lacks the high peaks necessary to grab clouds and rainfall.  However, it drew US attention during WWII because of its similarity to Japanese targets in the Pacific Theater.  The US military would occupy two-thirds of the island and use the site to train pilots for bombing missions long after WWII had been concluded.  That run would end when a stray missile was discharged in 1998 and killed a local inhabitant.  This led to an outcry for ousting the troops and the push was successful, resulting in the US abandoning operations here in 2003.

Today the island is slowly being resuscitated into a tourist attraction from the twin attributes of natural beauty and the natural wonder of its bio bays.  Progress has been slowed because there remains quite a lot of ordinance scattered about.  Poverty was evident during our visit and I hope the situation has improved since we dropped in.  As much as I enjoy roughing it to get closer with local cultures, this trip was a simple family vacation and beyond experiencing the bio-bay our scope was limited to idling on the gorgeous private beaches of the resort.

May appear relaxing, but I had to abandon that lounge chair to snap this picture of Kim & Spencer!

Martineau Bay offered two separate beaches, both exquisite, and we trekked to the one a little farther away that would serve as our private beach for our days here in paradise.  It was gorgeous beyond words, offering expansive water views and tantalizing visions of the Puerto Rican mainland. 

Another glimpse of our ‘private beach’…with Puerto Rico rising in the distance

Back-to-Back

December1st, 2010:  So I am beginning to realize that training for a full marathon requires many more miles than the half marathon.  Did I mention the primary difference between regimens for the full and the half are four days of running every other week rather than three days each week?  Of course the distances escalate as well, but at least I recall thinking the three days was a bit lacking.

Well, I can now exclaim with authority that running back-to-back days is stressful.  I’m sure it is due to running hard the day before, but the wheels don’t spin so fast when you are trudging along the day immediately after.  Seems the theory is that you want to stress your muscles to a limited extent and I was pleased with the results from the first training program so I’m enduring the pain.

I will share that I am clearly running much better than I have for the last fifteen years.  There is power in my strides that comes easy and I can sense a strong pace.  Except on day two of back-to-back sessions!  On those days I have to focus on foot falls and overcome stiffness + weariness.  It is not so easy on these days to turn in a quick pace, but I push myself to try and improve.

Journey to Jordan XI (October 20th, 2007): Mad About Madaba

The final day.  We woke up feeling a bit caught up with sleep, but still suffering from a lack of motivation.  One very full day remained – my flight departed at 1:40AM and Mark’s at 3:15AM – but we had been thoroughly overwhelmed by getting to know Jordan and somewhat anxious to return home to our families.

Over breakfast we decided we should return to Rum and scout the trail we wanted to do yesterday before it got too hot.  So we checked out after extracting a promise that it would be okay to return and use their shower facilities after our hike.  Back in Rum we picked up the trail around Jebel Rum that begins right behind the Rum Rest House and was supposed to lead past Nabatean ruins to an oasis teeming with mint.

After proceeding along the trail with nary a sight of any Nabatean ruins, we came across a local family who had driven down in their 4WD and were enjoying a picnic brunch.  Though they didn’t speak any English, we just expressed ‘Nabatean’ after exchanging greetings and the husband motioned for us to follow him.  He led us to a boulder which had etched characters that were similar to those we had seen in Petra (clearly not Thamudic inscriptions).  He patted one at the top and uttered “here”.  Then he worked his way down the boulder, patting each character and exclaiming “here” over and over.  There was one last “here” as he got to the bottom, whereupon he patted the ground and said loudly “GOLD!” and grinned ear to ear.  It was a very funny moment and one that will stay with me as a reminder of how friendly everyone was.

Hike at Jebel Rum

We returned to the trail and followed it back to where the mint oasis was, chasing a lot of lizards and butterflies on our way.  The mint filled the air and was tremendously refreshing, but already we could sense the temperature rising towards the unbearable and doubled back.  After showering at Bait Ali we returned to the Desert Highway for the three or four hour drive north back to the airport.

Mark was driving and I scoured our guide to find something to fill the last few hours.  We toyed with the notion of venturing into Amman for a bit, but grappling with all the traffic of a big city seemed too intense to wrap up an adventure that had been thoroughly rural so far.  It eventually occurred to me that the single item we hadn’t satisfied from the original itinerary was visiting St. George’s church in Madaba to see the Mosaic Map.  As I tried to get better coordinates on exactly where the heck the church was, I discovered that one of the best restaurants in all of Jordan was located a mere 100 meters away.  So back to Madaba it was!

We switched positions as we neared Madaba and I did a u-turn on the Desert Highway when so instructed by signs to Madaba.  Then it was one last gas station stop since we only had to return the rental car half full.  I recommend keeping topped off whenever you have the chance in Jordan – gas stations were few and far between, always full service (and oddly enough, all of the attendants we talked with were from Egypt).  However, we drove the other way for a little and never saw another sign to turn off for Madaba, so we decided to bushwhack.

This was the first time we had really strayed from main thoroughfares and as crappy as we thought the roads had been, they were relative super highways compared to the back roads.  Narrow, twisty and plagued with goats and donkeys, this was not a treat.  Particularly perilous was going through a small village where we would be rudely introduced to unmarked speed bumps.  After stopping to ask locals at various points for directions to Madaba (basically uttering ‘Madaba’ and looking at which direction they pointed), we arrived in good time.    Even better, our master plan was to just park once downtown and strike out on foot, rather than go round and round on the roads.

A great plan.  Our respect for Madaba grew appreciably because on foot you get to peek into the many shops and it is considerably less hassle than driving.  Pinned down the church with little trouble and plunked down one dinar apiece to get in.  We spent considerable time digesting the Mosaic map, confirming that it had accurately depicted so many details about the Middle East fifteen hundred years ago.

Mosaic Map at St. George Church in Madaba

Our eyes had been opened to the attractions of Madaba and next we went to the Archaeological Museum two blocks away.  Here was a magnificent collection of mosaics displayed amidst Roman ruins in the heart of downtown (entry here was two dinar each, but gets you into two other places if you don’t start as close to closing time as we did).

When the museum closed at 6PM we walked over to Haret Jdoudna, the touted restaurant.  The accolades were well deserved.  A tasteful and elegant setting, blending Ottoman and Roman themes, Mark and I sat down for our first non-buffet meal since the Dead Sea Panoramic a week ago.  I started with a cup of red lentil soup and Mark ordered some hot spinach mezza before we tackled our main courses of Filet Sarayana.  Everything was delectable, including the hot popovers served for bread.  If you want to enjoy a first class meal in Jordan at a price that is more than reasonable, please check out Haret Jdoudna in Madaba!

After dinner it was time to head for the airport.  Traffic in Madaba was nuts, which made me glad we didn’t go to Amman, but we made the airport without any problems around 9PM.  We discovered that our departing flights were in the same terminal, but they wouldn’t let you in until three hours before your flight (the ticket counters are inside the terminals and they don’t open up until then), so we parked at a coffee stand and got the cards out for the final Spite & Malice tournament.

The luck I had gained from smoking shi-sha persisted and I won honors for the Queen Alia Airport.  We broke off the card games around 11:30 when it was two hours before my flight – of course Mark still had to wait another forty five minutes before he could follow.  Mark actually had a bit more of a wait getting into the terminal, meeting back up with me only ten minutes before my flight boarded.  This was still enough time for me to spend my last ten dinars on a couple of Heinekens to toast a grand adventure.

So now I am wrapping this journal up in Paris as I wait for my flight back to the States, and it occurs to me that I will be arriving in Philadelphia.  Philadelphia was a former name for Amman, one of many things I learned about the fascinating country of Jordan.  The entire education was thanks to coming across some pictures of Petra somewhere. Those pictures led me on an incredible journey which more than anything, taught me that if we take the time to meet our neighbors, we may come to know them as friends.