Weekends

Weekends are great! This weekend a bunch of us hoped in  car are drove up to Portland Maine. We went there for two reasons. One, we had never been, and two LOBSTER. even though we left fairly early after a night of rowdiness, our spirits were high which made the car ride High-larious. We told stories and talked the whole way. Portland is a fantastic city. It has a small town feel. The shops are very nice and there are plenty of streets bursting with character to explore. The people of portland are very friendly too. I am sure the fact that we all were wearing silly hats made us very approachable as well. After a few pints we headed to the "local" spot we were advised to eat at. We were wearing silly hats for no other reason than to have fun. But people did not seem to find this an acceptable answer. So I decided it would be better if we had a reason that promoted solidarity. So I started telling everyone it was Aaron's bachelor party! It worked like a charm. Soon everywhere we went people were hounding him or congratulating him. We even got a few free shots out of it. The place we ate at is called J's. Go there if you ever find yourself in the area. The seafood is super tasty and plentiful. For $10 we got appetizers that included 6 oysters, full claws of lobster, scallops, shrimp and crab! The entrees are unique and large as well. Its a good thing Frank was with us because he finished most of what everyone else left on their plates. Be careful of the long island ice tea, it is terribly potent. 

We spent the next while walking down some railroad tracks to a gorgeous beach. Some people had given us the idea for some delicious brandy-coffee. This kept us warm on two levels. When the sunset I was sure it was only 4pm, the time had flown by. A hospitable irish pub caught our eye. By this time we had created a local hum of excitement. Many people in the pub wanted to chat and have a drink with the Boston Bachelor party! Here we met lobster men. Whoa, calm down. These are not half lobster half men. They are men that catch lobster. That day they had brought up about 100 pounds of lobster each. One guy had even caught a golden lobster, which is amazingly rare. Everyone was having an award wining good time, I think the award would be called FUN FARMER OF THE YEAR! I was even giving piggy back rides around the bar on request. It was late and the better sense in us was telling us to leave. We said our goodbyes to al the new friends and exited. luckily the "lack of sense" in each of us took over at this point as some live music caught our ears. The bar, Andy's (note for later) was jiving with a hot local band. Again we made our presence known in an instance. Much more ballywhoo happens here. The locals tell us that the gay bar in town is a huge party on the weekend. So of course we have to go check it out. The place is called Styx, and it lives up the reputation. Surprisingly there is a good mix of people. True to our style we end up on stage performing improv dances. Some hopeful fellas even bought me a few drinks. No lap dance for the "bachelor" though, as far as I know. 

Eventually this place closes down and we REALLY decide to get back to Boston. The drive home at 3am replicates the drive up. SHINANIGANS! It was a trip for the record books. In fact I am pretty sure somewhere in the archives of Portland city we made a notation. 

And that bar... Andy's... they closed out my forgotten tab for me the next day, and mailed me my credit card. Such nice people up in Portland!

White Mountains!

On Saturday my Space friend, Frank, and I took an expedition to New Hampshire and the infamous White Mountains. Frank is my “space friend” because he studies and loves space, not because he is from there. Although some think he does go there sometimes. The White Mountains are named thus because they are mostly covered with white aspen trees. It is home to Mount Washington, which brags the worst recorded weather on the planet! The fastest wind speed ever occurred here and toped 231 mph! And very frequently the temperature stays below -50 F for days on end. Obviously it is a relaxing and fun place to be.
After 4 hours of driving we finally arrived at one of the main lodges. The staff at the lodge was very friendly and helpful. They also quickly crushed our plans to summit Mt. Washington by telling us the temperature was -33 F and wind gusts to 100mph. The fellow could tell these conditions did not immediately deter us, so he went on to ask if we had crampons and ice axes. We of course did not, so without even a hint of a smile he said “well one wrong step, or slip and you will plummet several hundred or thousand feet to your death, but do what you like”. We bought a map and picked out a less “death trap” area for our exploring.
We were not really prepared or equipped for the deep snow and high wind conditions, but it did not hamper our spirits. We happily stomped into the wilderness following some cross country skiing trails. As long as we stayed on the packed trail we were fine. But occasionally a misguided step would lead to a plunge through the crust into waist deep powder. It was fantastic. Eventually the ski trail stopped going the direction we wanted to go so we had to forge ahead through the snow without a trail. At times the only way to move forward was to crawl to stay on top of the deep drifts. We saw a really spectacular waterfall. The water on the surface was frozen in a deep blue rolling wall, but the water behind it still flowed. Up stream we encountered evidence of a GIANT beaver. He had chewed halfway through a tree trunk three feet in diameter. The beaver himself was home sipping a hot toddy. This was a wise choice because a few moments after seeing his workshop the wind picked up and enveloped us in a freezing whiteout. It was exactly like being inside a snow globe just after a vigorous shake. We could not open our eyes but still stumbled forward, one hand guarding our faces, and one outstretched as if we were feeling for furniture in the dark. After about a hundred yards I made a frightening discovery. The wind subsided just enough for us to realize were stood in a clearing. And some further scanning showed we were in fact standing in the middle of a pond. Even with the conditions we had no idea how thick the ice would be. We back tracked and proceeded through the tree line on the perimeter.
Our hike ended back at the very hospitable lodge with some sandwiches and a few cups of hot coffee. We then made the reverse journey back to craziness that is Boston. Our ride home included a confusing conversation with a shop keeping about “what the hell a Wombat is?” and some political discussion in which my main argument was that Hillary and Barrack are secretly in love with each other. It was a refreshing daytrip. My perception of New England now feels more welcoming as I have found some real wilderness to escape to.

Sports FANS!!

A huge difference between Boston and SLC is the sports fans. Back home people like sports. Most people support the Utah Jazz. And some of my greatest times stem from the clash of a U of U vs. BYU football game. But beyond this, the sports scene is fairly stagnant. But In Boston for many the local teams ARE vitally important. People will plan their commute, work schedule, even sleeping schedules around the local teams. You may think I am exaggerating, which I must admit I do at times. But here are some examples.
First, the Red Sox. (spelled SOX, not SOCKS, I got in trouble for this) EVERYONE here goes nuts for the red sox. The season opening occurred this week in Japan against the Oakland A’s. The game was aired here in Boston live and started at 5:45 am. Bars, yes Bars, opened early just for the occasion. And people packed these bars. Many people took the day off work, or went in late, just so they could watch this first seemingly trivial baseball game.
Fenway stadium is close to my apartment, and very close to the main hospital. On a game day, people are allowed and encouraged to leave early to beat the “Sox traffic”. And much like a snow day in Utah, no one is really penalized for missing work, or a meeting to attend a game.
A local furniture store, Jordan’s furniture, is offering a very special deal for the month of April. Any furniture bought in April is FREE if the sox sweep the World Series this year. They purchased an insurance policy just for this event. The same deal was offered last year, and I know two people who received full refunds when the Sox won the series.
Next, the Celtics. Anyone paying attention knows they are doing really well this year. I commute through North Station where they play all their games sometimes. Last night I went through just as the game let out. (They beat the Phoenix Suns by 20 points, Shout out to the Gun) The trains were packed! Everyone wearing green. And drunk. I have not mentioned yet, but over half of being a sports fan is consuming a lot of alcohol while cheering for your team. On the very packed train, a fight broke out. You are thinking that a Suns fan was being beaten by the mob I suspect, but no. Two Celtics fans started arguing over WHO was the BIGEST fan. It was all about loyalty and a long term commitment to the team. Besides the time I watched George argue with a girl (named Swan, no joke) for two hours about who would win in a fight between a pirate and a ninja, it was the dumbest thing I have ever seen.
And who can forget the Patriots. Oh yes, people are still mourning and debating the super bowl loss. The general consensus now if that the patriots threw the game for financial gain. Who really cares…? EVERYONE! On a side note, I won $750 betting on the Giants, Yeah!
In summary, you must like and support the local Boston teams if you intend on living here. Or you can do what I do. I make sure I read the sports section each day. This way if someone brings it up, which they always do, I can say something like- “Can you believe Garnett put up 30 last night! I say MVP for sure!”
Also, a pirate would make a ninja walk the plank.

French Invasion

This weekend was very unique. All my roommates were off traveling the globe which left my large apartment empty and quiet. I was excited to have some personal time to Chillax (this is a real word… probably). But as the weekend approached I received several request from couchsurfers wishing to stay the weekend with me. For those of you in the dark, basically couchsurfing is an internet network for travelers. You create a profile based in the city you live. When fellow surfers travel through the city they can ask to stay with you. Conversely when you travel you can ask to stay with locals wherever you are. Sound sketchy…? Relax, there is a system to leave references and vouching, so the rift-raft is screened out and you only interact with people you find acceptable. I am an advocate for this cheap and personal approach to traveling. By the time Friday arrived I had agreed to allow 6 people stay the weekend, filling the void of space from lack of roommates and canceling the quiet sanctuary atmosphere I had planned. In all 5 girls and 1 guy arrived. All French. They were very courteous and polite, bringing me gifts and making crepe dinners. They even made flambé! I was anxiously standing by with the fire extinguisher, no singed eyebrows to report however. One problem did occur. I found myself feeling quite foreign as the household language became French. I took some French in high school, but besides ordering a beer or expressing my love of cheese, it’s useless. I had to declare a strictly NO FRENCH rule. But as the wine bottles emptied, they just could not help themselves and the French returned. It was fine, my French improved a bit. I noticed something else too. I began paying much more attention to body language and speaking patterns. I found I could understand much of the conversations by watching facial expressions. It was really neat. I introduced the French to Beer Pong, which they were helpless at. Besides the language barrier, it was enjoyable to host these lovely people and give them a local feel for Boston. (That’s right; I am claiming to be a local now)
Some other exciting things happen this weekend as well. I changed my shower gel. I upgraded to a very masculine black bottle called PANTHER! There is a warning on the label saying I may become irresistible to the opposite sex. I started using it this morning but have not encountered a demographic to test it on. I will keep you posted. I hope I don’t have to hire a body guard. I also bought a Mac Book. I have not “owned” a computer in years. If nothing else it will make me look important at starbucks. In combination with the PANTHER, I might need a body guard after all.

All things Dutch

Aruba despite what they tell you, is part of Holland. Not many people have heard of the Great Dutch Empire, but I have seen evidence of it. Back in the day (which was a Tuesday) the Dutch “acquired” a bunch of islands in the Caribbean as trading posts. One of which is Aruba. The influence is heavy. Most people speak Dutch, and Arabians even have citizenship in Holland. When I asked what the “native” people of Aruba where like I was told that the Spanish moved them all off the island to become slaves. But they didn’t make good slaves, so they just vanished. Someone else told me that there were NO people living on the island before the Dutch. Much like there was no one living in America before the Mayflower. Besides an abundance of Heineken, and silly Dutch food, there is bar trivia…. In Dutch. If you have heard someone speaking Dutch you will agree that is sounds like they are making it up as they go along. It cannot possibly be a legitimate language. Nonetheless, there I was deep in Dutch bar trivia. I took 5th place. Lucky for me there was a music round and a geography round.
The “city” portion of Aruba only exists on one side of the island, and only for a mile or so. This means there is lots of uninhabited nature to explore. I did my best to see everything. With guidance I managed to see a natural bridge carved by crashing waves, a few costal caves straight out of pirates of the Caribbean, and many tide pools full of unsuspecting ocean life to harass. I love foraging through tide pools playing with all the sea creatures locked in private lagoons until the next high tide. I even managed to find star fish and a huge blue crab that was very grouchy. There was also some trilobite looking things clinging to the rock. I found them creepy and discomforting. Proof of alien life perhaps. I never found a treasure chest full of long lost pirate gold, I did see lots of booty though!

Eels and 27!

One day in Aruba I went snorkeling. I was a little hesitant, as some of you know, I don’t swim well. For $40 I got a catamaran ride out to two awesome dive sites and an open bar the whole time. On a side note, drinking while swimming in the open ocean is a GREAT idea! My fear quickly turned to excitement as we set anchor at the first site which is the largest shipwreck in the Caribbean. How the Antilles actually “wrecked” is debated by the locals but it goes something like this. It is a German freighter that was docked at Aruba during WWII. When Germany invaded Holland, message was sent to Aruba to capture the freighter which was believed to be supplying U-boats. Rather than surrender the boat, the Germans blew a huge hole in it, and it sank and became home to millions of ocean creatures. The boat rests on its side, and is HUGE! Even from the surface it is easy to see tons of amazing fish, which up to this point I thought only naturally existed in dentist office aquariums. (Why do dentists always have aquariums?) In some places the ship is so close to the surface you can touch it. I saw fish of all types. Blue ones, red ones, stripped ones, fat ones, long ones, some even wearing hats. I even had a close call with the vicious Moray Eel! I could have stayed there all day, but we moved on closer to the beach to check out a large coral reef. Lots more fish here, and some sea snakes, which we stayed away from. The fish would eat bread right out of my hand. Once a fish confused my finger for bread and took a strong nibble. I survived the attack, but barely.

Later that night I found myself in the casino at the Hyatt. I am not much of a gambler, I was mostly just exploring. I decided to play a little roulette. Slot machines are very boring, and card games are intimidating. I bought $20 worth of chips and vowed to not give them any more money once it was gone. On my second game I bet a few chips on 27, in honor of my recent birthday. (Yes I am 27, I know, I know, I better start taking centum silver) Well I got lucky and WON! My $20 had become $150! I played a few more dollars and then cashed out and left. That’s how you stick it to the man! What did I do with my winnings you might ask…? I opened the islands first fish taco stand! Again, sticking it to the man!

Overdue Post

So I have been MIA for a while but I have a good excuse... ARUBA! That’s right I escaped to a tropical paradise for a week! Most people instantly think of the beach boy’s song, and know nothing else about this place. Here is the low down. Aruba is actually a desert. The island is covered in cactus and awesome Divi Divi trees and little else. The Divi trees grow in only one direction as the wind ALWAYS blows from the east. This is good because without the steady breeze any part of the island 50 yards from the beach would be TOO HOT in the HOT TUB! 80% of Aruba's economy is driven by tourists, so expensive. But the locals are eager to please, and take your money. Aruba speaks Papiamento, which is a mix of Portuguese, Spanish, English and Dutch. A common way to great someone is by saying "Dushi you". Which is basically -hello sweetie- but I found it very fun to say. The Caribbean ocean here is very nice. Crystal clear and 75 degrees! Tons of natural reefs and ocean life. The palm trees are imported, as is everything in Aruba except water, and a local beer called Balashi. A Balashi tastes like Heineken, gets better after two or three. Most beer comes in an 8oz bottle, so holding one makes you either feel ripped off, or like a giant.

I stayed off the hotel strips in a condo. The condo is called paradise, and it was. Newly remodeled with new furniture, and a private pool complete with waterfall and grill. Besides lounging by the pool or on the beach I spent a good deal of time exploring the island. The next few days I will post some "extended, director cut" stories. To get things rolling and to give you a feeling of the mix in cultures here is a simple good one.

After spending an afternoon hiking and exploring a natural pool, I was driving back to the condo being navigated by a local I had met named Marisa. I was hungry from all the activity. I had also been talking for a few hours non stop, to the chagrin of those in my company. I was craving a fish taco like a crack fiend. I was certain I could find a great place on this tropical island to eat about 12 delicious fresh Mexican/aquatic treats. So I asked Marissa "is there a good place to get fish tacos"? She replied "there are two places that a re good, one is 5 minutes from here". I got very excited. I started to describe what I hoped to find- "oh man its going to be so good! White fish wrapped in corn tortilla, with tartar sauce, cilantro and lime! I can't wait!"
The navigation Marissa was giving me was a little sketchy, taking me into some run down neighborhoods and once actually driving through an abandoned train yard. I figured I was about to discover a local gem of a Mexican stand kept hidden away from tourists. Finally she told me to part and pointed to an entrance. "Right in there" she said. I will wait here. "Are you sure you don't want one?" I asked. She looked at me like I was a mutant and said "why would I want one?” I walked into the entrance she had pointed out. I found myself in a bait shop full of Arabians. They all gave me a look like I had just busted down the door. I asked one, "where can I order a taco?” he said something I did not understand. I looked all around the shop, but saw nothing that looked like a place to order food. So I walked out thinking I must have entered the wrong door. Marissa was outside, "there are no taco's in there" I said.
"Tacos?" "Why would they have taco's" She asked
"I want a fish taco."
She threw her hands up in the air and looked exasperated. "I thought you asked for fish TACKLE"!
I lost it, laughing and complaining at the same time. She then informed me that I needed to speak correctly. Apparently it was MY accent that was difficult to understand. She then broke the tragic news to me that there are NO fish tacos on the island.
I still want one, and still have not had one.