Memorial Day at Moab

Ok, so I'm a little delayed. I've decided NOT to go back to Italy and rehash that trip. Instead, we'll forward to Memorial Day Weekend with good friends Chris, Janice & their 8-month-old Charlie, as well as Don and Leah. All of us met way back in another life at Fat Tuesday's and in the last year and a half I've reconnected with them.

Chris and Janice arrived on Wednesday so that Thursday morning they could go scout out camping sites and found a GREAT one right on the river. I arrived at 6 pm that night and cracked open an ICB while setting up my tent. Don & Leah, coming from San Diego, were overnighting past Vegas and we'd see them tomorrow.

I brought my road bike (yes, I know, it's Moab) and Friday morning we all struck out at the same time for the end of the road at Arches. I realized on my 10-day trip around the Four Corners in '05 that riding through National Parks is an amazing way to really see the landscape. They went for a hike and we met at the end of a looooooong uphilll climb. Let's just say that of the 20-mile road in the park about 1.5 of it was downhill. I kid you not.

Because of the time of day, heat (not a cloud in sight) and dry air, I took my time and stopped at nearly every pull-out or overlook in the park. When you're driving in, you miss out on some of the views and it really does get tiresome to get in and out of your car constantly, walk over, read, view, etc. SO much more peaceful and enjoyable in the saddle.

That night, after D&L arrived and set up their tent while sipping on an ICB, I pulled out steaks from Ranch Foods Direct and we all had ourselves a great meal (heck, ALL meals that weekend were delightful), great conversation and then sat around the fire until the wee hour of probably midnight.

We hit Arches again the next day and did a few hikes around there and then Canyonlands Island in the Sky District the following day. It was hot, we didn't get started early (11:30 at the trail head) and went on a 6-mile hike. Janice is a MACHINE!!! She carried the baby on her back in a pack the entire time. After the hike, where we saw an arch, several garden oasis, beautiful desert wildflowers, geckos, canyonlands and sky as the eye could see.

We did Arches one final time -- Delicate Arch and a few other small hikes -- before it was time for our last night of camping.

C,J & C are in the process of moving to Sedona. That was the plan since moving out to Arizona from NoVa and they've finally done it. We saw some pictures of their new place and I can't wait to see it! I'll see Don, who brought his guitar and serenaded the group at night, & Leah probably before next Memorial Day if I'm able to go to San Diego again. We brunched with them in March before Dave headed overseas and I'm looking forward to it again.

Sadly we had to head home and back to reality after five nights in the camp ground, but it was a good time. We're going to look into renting a house boat on Lake Powell and then exploring some of the canyons that are reappearing in Glen Canyon these days. We'll have to bring kayaks along to do some of the exploring, but it should be a good time!

I think we probably ate better during the camping trip (I usually do) than during a regular week. We were totally gourmet! Peet's coffee, steaks, brats, salad, you name it, we ate it. After all, if you're going to pull your car into a spot, you're not roughing it and should definitely reward your afternoon hikes with some good food / beer / wine / margs :-)

I have to say that Charlie was an amazing camper. He didn't cry much at all, was mostly giggly and totally into the outdoors scene: eating dirt, watching geckos run around, taking camp showers, going on hikes, etc. Nothing fazed this little guy. Watch for him in about 20 years in some amazing adventure race. He's getting primed for it now!

Ciao!

Stay Awake

April 7, 2007

Once we got checked in, unpacked & showered, we all met for a walkabout. One thing you never want to do when arriving in a new time zone is go straight to sleep or you'll never adjust.

We hopped in a cab at 1:45 and arrived at the Spanish Steps a few minutes later. After some pointless wandering – we were sleepwalking really – we came upon a sidewalk café (in Rome! Imagine that!) and decided it was time for some food.

After our late lunch we continued strolling along and found ourselves in San Pietro Piazza (St. Peter's Square). It was fairly busy and we were fairly brain dead. After walking around it a bit we ended up leaning against a railing, then Carol sat down and the rest of us soon followed. We sat there for some time people watching and not really saying anything. And then fell asleep. Right there sitting on the cobblestones at St. Peter's. Yeah, we were tired. I was nodding in and out, Carol was totally out and Ed & BJ were also dozing.

After our refreshing nap, which only ended because someone felt some raindrops, we began the walk back to the hotel. If you're familiar with the layout of Rome, our hotel was on the north side of Villa Borghese. If you're not familiar with Rome, it's still a very long walk. One that was interrupted by a downpour or two. We ducked under a bridge and sat out the first one, made it to the next bridge before the next heavy rain and during the third Carol and I found a café and had some espresso & magnums (YUMMY!).

That night was filled with a very long meal at a great place around the corner from our hotel. The host and staff were most excellent and come to find out that's the same place we were to have a few team meals over the next week.

We all crashed HARD that night and I didn't move until about 9:00 a.m. Then I rolled over and went right back to sleep for another hour.

We spent that afternoon walking around the neighborhood to figure out what was nearby, where we should tell the players to go, etc., and then the arrivals started rolling in that night.

You have HOW MANY bags?

April 7, 2007

Just to be up front about this, we never travel light. Ever.

Carol, Ed, BJ and I were arriving in Rome a day ahead of the players and coaching staff and Carol had already called ahead to let our host, Maria Christina, know that even though there were only four of us, there would be many, many, many big bags. We needed a short bus or a luggage truck.

"Yes, yes, no problem!"

Well, since we had a total of 34 checked bags (thankfully two never arrived that day, including the oversized training table), in addition to our large carry ons, there was a BIG problem. They sent a driver to pick us up in a large nine-passenger van. It was big and boxy, but not nearly big enough for our bags. No matter how hard we tried, they just weren't going in .

It became even more comic when some of the skycaps' people came to watch. We dubbed one guy the supervisor because he stood behind the bags smoking and pointing. We've all had to load bags into small spaces – we have issues with an entire team and buses on a regular basis – and attempted to assist in the loading. Nope, they were like three-year-olds and wanted to do it all by themselves.

Nothing was being stacked, everything went in all willy-nilly and therefore even less would fit in the van.

However, the driver called one of his friends with another ban of the same size and after another half hour or so of shoving, packing, repacking, etc., we finally had all the bags in the vans and, miraculously, still had room to fit the four of us ... barely.

As an after note, when the bulk of players and coaches showed up on Saturday, most of them were loaded onto a bus. However, we still had four who were coming later so BJ and I hung out at the airport and waited. This being Easter weekend, you can only imagine how busy the Rome airport was and more bags were lost. There was a driver sent for three of the players (the fourth person had missed his connection thanks to delays out of COS – shocker – and wasn't on the pick up list), but he was driving a sedan, one with a normal trunk. Thankfully (although not for them) some of the bags didn't arrive otherwise we'd be taking a cab full of bags back to the hotel in addition to the car.

More on Jackson

So this is more of Jackson, my lil cutie. He's a trip. I think of him often, especially after Cheryl's cat got mauled by a pack of wild dogs roaming the streets of Atlanta (another reason to not like the south). Poor thing :-(

Looking Ahead @ Another Busy Year

So I went through my calendar yesterday and starting marking it up -- it's pretty full!!! Italy in April, Hawaii in May, Russia in June/July, Serbia in July, Vegas (maybe) in August, Chile in September ... it never ends! However, I'm sure I'll have some great stories that come out of all the travels.

On an unrelated note, I have a new cat. Ain't he cute!? His markings are very similar to Zeb's, with the exception being black & white versus grey & white. I got him from the pound at the end of January and nursed him back to health (the pound crud). He's now a non-stop kitty. The one funny thing about his fur is that he was almost named Roots. As in bad dye job. His black fur comes with white roots. Half & half. It's cute!

He was almost a dead cat last night ... he somehow managed to squeeze his newest toy under my neck right at the edge of the pillow. Then spent the next seven hours trying as hard as possible to get it out. He was nudging, pawing, purring, nudging, anything he could think of to make me stay awake. I thought he was just being a royal pain in the arse. Nope. He was just trying to pry his toy from under my head. ARGH! Yes, I drank a LOT of coffee today, but still feel like nodding off this afternoon ... anyhoo, back to Jackson. Nicknamed Boo Boo Kitty. He's a pound kitty, turns two in July, is the most active animal I've ever known, likes to play fetch with my ponytail bands (I toss them down the hall, he runs them back to me, I toss them down the hall ...) and is Chatty Cathy. Big time!

It's Springtime in the Rockies and you know what that means ... snow or 70' on any given day. Or both!

I'm outta here to go finish off my day with a run at the Jack Quinn's Runner's Club 5k -- a Tuesday night social run. Good times!

Catching Up ..

Not much going on here. Zeb died in my arms on Nov. 4. Dave started his one-year deployment Dec. 4 and left the state to train in Southern California on Jan. 4, I tore the UCL in my left thumb skiing on Jan. 29 and have been out of commission since that time, had surgery Jan. 10 and got a cast put on it today. Hopefully skiing will be in my immediate future!

I've been told I've been pretty lazy about writing ramblings and one of my non-resolutions this year is to log onto this blog no less than once a week to babble incessantly about the most inane items. It'll be like you're listening to talk radio .... only better!

This picture was taken in early December with four good friends up in the mountains. We were doing some backcountry skiing around one of the 10th Mountain Division Huts and found a log upon which to place the camera for a self-timed pic. We got dumped on for the two nights we were up there, drank plenty of Hut Slushies, ate more food than one could possibly imagine and had a freakin' blast! We had the whole hut to ourselves with a large group of friends (they were skiing elsewhere when this shot was taken). Basically you pile all your gear, food & sleeping bag into a backpack and head into the wilderness. For those of you who think "roughing it" is a hotel without room service, this is NOT for you!

Ok, I'm outta here. Too much food & drink during the holidays. I must work out after work daily or I'll never be able to wear anything but sweats again.

Bit O'Brazil

NOTE: This is from last September while I was in Brazil...

So, in addition to the organizing committee ignoring us about the fact that
we have needs for 34 rooms for the finals and us having to spend all day
hunting down a hotel that has room in the inn for us (btw … France also had
the same issues because they also have extra room needs), going on a joy
ride through the streets of Sao Paulo to get to the arena tonight with a
brake-happy driver (I think we may have been on two wheels at one time
also), arriving to the arena only to find that there were about 100 people
hanging out ready to watch the practice, music started playing just now as
Anne was trying to talk to the players. I look around for someone to ask
about having the music turned off (thinking, silly me, that the sound is
coming from within the Thunderdome), when Horovitz turns to me and says,
“you know there’s a rock concert next door tonight, right?”

“WHAaaaaaat the???”

“I think it’s actually in the parking lot.”

But of course it would be.

Oh yeah, and the bus stalled on the way to the gym.

You can’t make this sh*t up!

No, I don't speak English

Carol, BJ and I got into Paris a day before the team so that we could meet the players and other staff upon arrival the following morning. That meant meeting in the lobby at 7:00 a.m. to head to the terminal for the first arrivals Friday morning. But it also meant that we would be able to spend a few hours in the afternoon walking around Paris, looking for the storybook character Madeline and her friends.

We stayed at the airport hotel, which is a block from the train station. Carol and I had both been to Paris before, but BJ had not, so we purchased our train tickets and headed into town. It was about a 20-minute ride that put us right at the Notre Dame. First things first, a meal was in order. After sandwiches and coffees that added up to over $50, we felt a little more refreshed. We also realized that Paris was expensive. Nevertheless, the café was situated on the corner by the Notre Dame so we took our lives in our own hands and crossed the street to the entrance of the cathedral.

No sooner had we started walking across the plaza when we were approached by a teenaged girl asking if we spoke English. Don't remember who said yes (not me, I'm the insensitive type and ignored her), but then we found out that all she wanted was money. Something about Bosnia, etc. Turns out that was to be the theme of the day, "do you speak English?" was asked whenever we were nearby any type of monument or artifact. It got old. "NEIN!" I barked once.

Okay, so the Notre Dame is very lovely. But it's way too commercial in a sense. They ask for money for just about everything. Entrance is free, but every chapel has some sort of sign asking for Euros. It's supposed to be a house of worship, but people were gawking, talking, being loud and taking flash photography. That never would have happened at St. Peter's Cathedral in Vatican City. Trust me, I've been scolded there by a young altar boy, who then led me to the back of the cathedral to Michalangelo's La Pieta where he motioned for me to kneel, pray and think about what I'd done. But I digress. That's another story.

We left and wound our way up the Seine, past the Louvre, to the Arc de Triomphe and finally to the Eiffel Tower. Along the way, walking down the Champs Elysees, we were approached by a girl who asked us if we spoke English (go figure). This girl was Asian, which differentiated her from the other girls. But not by much. There was still some sort of scam going on. She wanted us to go into the Louis Vittan store and buy her a purse ... something about them only selling her one and she wanted he other color also, but they wouldn't ... whatever. I finally told her that the store was in the opposite direction (two blocks down) and that we were late for something (with my voice definitely giving the message to shut up, we're not falling for this scam). By the time I had finished talking there were two or three other people around us and it seemed as if they were going to try and pickpocket us or something like that. Dude! We just want to see the city!

We finally continued to the Arc, all the while I'm looking at the cobblestones of the Champs Eleysees and marveling at how guys with skinny tires can actually RACE on the street! And the final day of the 2005 Tour de France was in the pouring rain, no less!

After having a look around (we didn't go up, but we did go through the tunnel and popped up under the Arc), it was time for the Eiffel Tower. Maybe it's age, maybe it's over-thinking things, but I think I've developed a very small fear of heights. I did not like the top. Not at all. So we headed back down. Partially on the stairs, which was cool ... but never ending. After a stop for a pastry and coffee (when in Paris afterall), we found the train station, hopped aboard and snoozed practically all the way back to the airport.

I got one more day in Paris since our coach was delayed a day and I had to stay behind to meet her on Saturday. However, I didn't venture downtown. Maybe I should have taken advantage, but after a 6:00 a.m. wake up, followed by several hours running around the airport meeting players and staff (by the way, Taj was right, "Charles de Galle is SO ghetto."), I returned to the hotel for a nap and then worked the rest of the afternoon and into the evening.

After meeting Anne, who looked ghostly ashen at baggage claim, we found our driver and headed north and into history.

But more on that later.

Game On!

Game on!
Vienna - Sopron - Vienna
After my little 36-hour layover in Colorado Springs, I found myself in Vienna. I'm not sure if I had jet lag or I was just tired, but instead of working out or doing work I decided to check out the back of my eyelids. Four hours later I awoke feeling a little better. Carol, Ellis and I ventured across the street to the airport and hopped on a train bound for Vienna. Ellis has never even been to Europe before and Carol spend a semester abroad in Vienna so she gave the quickie walking tour (I've been there several times, but it's always a good place to visit) and I was freezing and hungry. All I wanted, all I had dreamt about for the past week in fact, was Nurenburger bratwurst, kartoffelsalat and a large German beer. While that dream was not to be realized, we did eat underground in a nice little bomb shelter-turned beer hall. Good times.

The team arrived the following day and we were off to Sopron, Hungary (pronounced SHOW-prawn). After a couple of days of practice we took the entire team, minus one person with a sore back, across the border to Vienna. It was snowing so the walking tour was out of the question, but we did drive around the city and saw most of the sights from the comfort of the tour bus. We had to hit a Viennese café and then ended up back in the bomb shelter for dinner before returning to Sopron.

I'm not sure if it was the same night or the next night, but Carol and I walked to a pub a block from our hotel. There were two four-tops, numerous two-tops and the bar, which had a restaurant on the other side. I mention the tables because Carol and I took one of the four-tops, the other one was in use already, and settled in with a large Soproni beer. Enter four Hungarian men. They look around and can't find a place to sit so we give up our seat and take a two-top. Throughout the course of the evening whenever people left the restaurant, walked through the bar on the way outside, they'd stop to talk to one of these four men. The same one. Shake hands, jovial chatter, kiss kiss on the cheeks, the whole nine yards.

So as we're leaving we stop by the table to look for Carol's diamond on the floor (it fell out of her ring and I noticed it while we were there) and we start chatting with "The Mayor," as we've dubbed the guy, and his friends. Turns out they don't speak much English, but we get by with German and this is what we know:

• They're all friends from waaaaay back
• One guy lives in Budapest, but his wife (who's back at the house in bed) lives in Sopron and he comes home on the weekends (obviously to see his friends and not her)
• Another guy has been married four times and will never marry again (but wouldn't mind a girlfriend)
• The Mayor is actually a photographer for the local paper.
• Carol's diamond was never found :-(

Here are a few more musings on life on that trip ... people I travel with (team members, etc.) when walking around Vienna had this to say about shops like Swatch (Swiss) and The Body Shop (English), "hey! This is like being in America! They have all these American stores!"

Three of us went out the final night and hung out with the management of the Sopron team. The picture of all of us in the English pub is what you see above.

And so it goes.