Cupcakes!

Kate and I had a nice relaxing weekend. We had some great walks in Melrose looking at the foliage and Halloween decorations. And I made a nice chili today, along with cupcakes. Frosting and decor was provided by Kate.

Jason & Millie's Schooner Wedding

Well my friend Jason, in a typical Jason Duplissis move took a major gamble and held a wedding on a Maine island (Cow Island) in October. The wedding turned out quite nice despite a cold boat ride over, a very memorable trip that went from from skipping on the choppy surf to cruising in peaceful sunny inlets. Lets just say some of the travelers had more contact with the waters of the Atlantic then they perhaps appreciated at the time, however it made for some great photos. The groom's party travelled aboard a schooner called the Bagheera.The bride's schooner sailing ahead. The bride and groom of course not being able to see each other before the ceremony.

I really find this photo of my Mom and Kate really funny, and for lack of a better term... really cute. Notice the water droplets all over their coats. I'm also pretty sure my Mom is wearing a pair of sunglasses of mine that I thought were missing. I didn't notice it till now. Oh well... I picked myself up a pair of bad-ass aviator glasses (gave into the fad) to replace them... I'm pathetic, what can I say. At least they aren't mirrored, but then again, they might be even cooler if they were. I digress....I think at this point, Scott, Jason's brother and best man, decided to go below deck. The Cat off in the Portland harbor.The dude in the fleece is the captain of the bride's schooner, the Wendameen, and the Justice of the Peace who married Jason & Millie. A Renaissance man.Some great shots of Millie's Dad giving her away, unfortunately my camera went dead right before the exchanging of vows, however Kate got some shots that I will get from her and put up at some point.

The entire evening was a bit of an adventure that will make this day just that much more memorable for Jason and Millie. The boats at first tried employing one sail because of significant wind. After testing the water with mixed results they began navigating between islands to avoid some of the choppy seas. We ended up having to disembark the schooners at Diamond Cove which is near Cow Island where the wedding and reception was to be held. The seas on the port side of Cow Island were too rough for the Schooners, and we had to take water taxis over which could only take 6-8 people at a time with some light cargo. As a result it took several trips to get everyone onto the island. Once on Cow, we had a quarter mile walk down a trail. After deciding where to hold the ceremony things began to fall into place. The ceremony was picturesque and conducted as the sun was setting.

Afterward the chilled friends and family rushed to the heated reception tent and hungrily attacked some hot New England clam chowder, steamed lobsters and grilled chicken. By the end of dinner the island was dark, and some of us lit our ways back to the dock with our cell phones. Still others placed their judgement in their sense of direction, and the dim glow of the evening stars. I felt like a kid creeping through the forest in crisp fall air at night, perhaps past my curfew. It was exciting, and all of us, most of us strangers seemed to share that same sense of anticipation of what the night would unveil to us next.

To our great pleasure the seas had calmed and our Schooner, the Wendameen, was there waiting for us. The sky was cloudless, and we had a wonderful trip to Chebeague island where we would be staying at the Chebeague Island Inn. The stars were spectacular and Kate and I laid back on the roof of the cabin and looked at them with wonder. Our adventure was not yet over.... at some point the crew member at the bow yelled "hard right (40?) degrees!!" Everyone turned and gasped as a lobster boat anchored in the water emerged in the darkness and we missed it by inches. Finally, the sailboat could not dock at the Chebeague Inn's dock which was stone, so a water taxi came and unloaded our boat. We formed a chain passing luggage onto the boat. Finally we made it ashore where a roaring fire, hot cider, and wine welcomed us in the Inn.

Kate and I stayed two nights with the Wedding party and Jason's family. Saturday we biked and hiked all over the island. To bring the day to a close we watched the sunset with Jason & Millie and several members of the wedding party. We had a toast of wine at Indian Point a small beach as the last of the day's sunlight danced upon the calm waters of Casco Bay.

Porto, Portugal (Oporto)

I wanted to devote a better post to Porto (Oporto) Portugal which I managed to visit on my last work trip to Spain. On one hand it was very old, gritty, at time very poor, and yet the people seemed warm with a certain charm that I suspect has persevered over many generations. The architecture was everything from grand, to quaint and shabby, the landscape rugged, scarred, and some what untamed despite the substantial influence of human-kind. All of these characteristics make Porto the most exotic place I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. I may add more to this post, as there is just so much to say I about what little of this spectacular city I managed to take in. And yes, if you are wondering, I did have a glass of Port while there. Enjoy!

Clérigos Church is one of the most famous structures in Porto, I would climb its tower. (related pictures further on)

Tower below is part of the old wall surrounding a portion of Porto. Dates to the 12th century.

FISH!!!

Dom Luís Bridge, perhaps the most imposing of all of the bridges crossing the Douro River. It carries the subway (metro) across the top and automobiles across the bottom. I snapped the picture of the tunnel entrance (above, 5th from top) as I was walking across the top deck.

From atop the tallest building in Portugal, Clérigos Church tower, which rises approximately 20 stories above Porto's streets, and perhaps even higher given its location on a hill. The stairs at the top are really narrow, and I admit, that the height and a flimsy stair case railing were a bit intimidating, and I am someone typically not bothered by this.

Looking up the hill at Clerigos Church.

Some typical tile-faced dwellings in old Porto. Amazingly I am taking this picture from another street to give you a feel for the completely erratic landscape.

One of many stunning steel bridges across the Douro River. Notice the tiny homes built along the cliffs. I really was dumbfounded by this city, it was like something from a fictional story or a Peter Jackson or Lucas CGI creation.

This railroad bridge Maria Pia which is actually designed by Gustave Eiffel of Eiffel tower fame.

The Dude

While I don't know enough about classical music and conducting to know if this guy truly lives up to his hype as the next great conductor..... he definitely makes it look DAMN Cool. Check out Gustavo Dudamel, new conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, famous for conducting the Venezuelan Simon Bolívar Youth Orchestra.

Paris!

After a very long and exhausting trip to Vigo Spain for work I ended up having a day of lay over in Paris. This ended up happening because of multiple flight adjustments, and this option actually became the most affordable way to get back home. And of course, as an added bonus I could spend several hours in Paris.

It was an eventful day highlighted by two events causing me unneeded stress. One, after arriving in Paris by train from the airport, and leaving my hotel several miles behind, I realized that my passport was not in my pocket. I suspected I probably left it in the hotel room, however the notion of me dropping it did not seem that far fetched, and so it simmered in the back of my mind as I speed walked through central Paris.

The other focal point of this day was a gentleman I met on the shuttle from the hotel to the train station. He was an Asian man who spoke excellent English with only a slight accent. He seemed a bit intimidated and lost when the shuttle driver asked where he was going. For whatever bizarre reason, he was taking the shuttle from the hotel to the airport so he could catch a taxi. Pretty much everyone was bewildered as to why he was doing this. For one reason, the airport is relatively far from central Paris, and the train would provide a much more affordable option. For another reason... if he needed a taxi, why did he have to come to the airport to get one? So being kind hearted, AND incredibly foolish I decided to take this guy under my wing and help him get on the train.

When we got to the station, he kept up this constant barrage of questions like a little kid. This guy was totally helpless, and it would come more apparent why later on. As I was trying to buy my ticket through a machine, he told me he needed to get money from an ATM. I said OK sure. I held off buying my ticket because I didn't know if the machine was going to give me a ticket to a particular train, and I wanted to make sure I could get this hopelessly lost man to downtown Paris. He was cursing at the ATM machine and taking an incredibly long time. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was trying to do. He kept saying "It says too big, too big!!" I was assuming that the ATM machine was giving him exchange problems, or that he was just trying to take out more money than the system would allow. What I didn't know is he was actually trying to get change for a 500 euro bill. Yes.... a 500 euro bill. I have seen a larger denomination bill in Euros now, than I have in American dollars... which is saying something considering how worthless the dollar has become. But wait it gets better. So this guy is absolutely incredulous that the machine won't change it for him. I respond saying that I wasn't even aware ATM machines gave change, and if they did, they probably wouldn't give you any more than change for a 50, 100 tops. After trying a French equivalent of "Western Union" where the counter woman was obnoxiously rude to him, I really felt like we were running out of options. I asked him if he could just use a credit care or something, but it didn't appear he was carrying one. Then this fool opens his wallet and says "This is all I have", and I see a dozen, I'm not kidding A DOZEN of these 500 euro bills. So this guy is walking around with 6 grand in Euros in his pocket, which is probably nearly 10 grand in U.S. dollars. I convince him that he has to go back and get better info out of the Western Union woman, that she must know a place he can get change. Sure enough she tells him that he can wait in the long distance train line and buy his commuter pass there and get change. So I wait in the line with him like the sucker I am. He offers to buy my ticket, I say no of course, A. because I'm doing this to be nice, and B. because I don't want to feel obligated to be this guy's tour guide, which was never part of the deal. So, after blowing 45 minutes at the train station with this guy's incompetence and talking him through the turn styles, which he could not figure out, we are FINALLY on our train into Paris.

I get to talk to him in a less chaotic environment riding on the train. I find out he is an executive at a textiles company in Indonesia. He lives in Jakarta and is on vacation by himself. He appears to be winging it completely, no plans, no research, and apparently no concept of what he was actually in for. He seems like a fairly nice man, and I get the feeling that someone usually does everything for him because he is probably from wealth. He mentions having family in Michigan and speaks of fondness of the U.S., but yet a desire to live in Canada, which I didn't question.

When we arrive in Paris the Chatelet Les Halles train station I've strategically chosen to disembark from is absolutely mammoth. My Indonesian friend is of course totally freaking out, but to his credit does provide a couple of translations of words on signs to help us get to the surface. We walk probably over a mile under ground, I kid you not. I have to baby sit this guy because he keeps on standing on the wrong side of the escalator blocking people's paths, and keeps forgetting to get on the conveyor belts (like in an airport) which make the journey go faster. He seems to have some absurd idea that we are hopelessly lost and will never find our way out, but eventually we of course do.

At last we get out, and get our first glimpse of the spectacular, ornate, granite buildings, and I'm pretty excited. I look over at my friend and he is crest fallen.

"Ughh... It's just a city"

What? I'm thinking.... hell Paris isn't even at the top of my list of places to see, but Paris, just a city? But wait, it gets better.

"The air is polluted".

Yeah, I think it was just fine, and question to myself how much worse it possibly can be than Indonesian air.

"I can't breathe"

(Whatever.)

"It's so noisy"
(Man...)

"Big deal just old buildings, just another city"

(Um... guess he doesn't appreciate them, but why did he come here?)

"It's just like Detroit, they have all this stuff there..."

OK NOW THAT IS JUST COMPLETELY MENTAL, THIS GUY IS REALLY STARTING TO PISS ME OFF. I speak up

"So, you are here in Paris now, I think we should go our separate ways...."

He looks at me as though he is about ready to cry.

"I mean, um... I think we are going to want to do and see different things, and have a different pace."

He tries again to convince me to do a taxi tour of the city with him, paid by him. This isn't what I want, I want to feel the streets, see the people, hear the noise, and perhaps even breathe in that "polluted air". I feel what little I do see probably won't really give me the real Parisian experience, but it will be much more real than what I can obtain from the inside of a cab. So I respond no.

Undaunted he again insists, "Come on we'll go see the Eiffel tower". He's asked me several times whether I planned to see the Eiffel tower, and all several times I responded "Of course".

"I'm going to see Notre Dame first since it is right here." I say.

"Are we going to see the river?" he pipes up, apparently not wanting to give up on our companionship.

"Sure" I respond, "We have to cross the river to get there."

At this point I'm trying to figure out what direction to go in by looking at street signs and he is once again heading into a semi-panic.

"Oh we don't know where we are going, Do you know where you are going? We are lost, we should ask someone?"

"I think we...." I try to interject...

"We shouldn't go any where, we have to ask someone" he rambles.

Then this idiot goes up to a sidewalk cafe and starts trying to ask people who are trying to eat in peace where to go. I can't remember if I was cradling my head in my hands at this point, but I certainly felt like doing that. Keeping an eye on him, I start walking down the street in what I believe is the right direction, ignoring his pleas. Sure enough I see the water and turn around and wave him over. He comes along,and sure enough his response....

"Oh.... its brown, it is ugly"

At this point I'm no longer surprised by anything this guy says. I try to ignore him and take in the art sales on the streets and the beautiful bridges with their ornate frescoes and statues. He looks at me staring at them with wonder and says "You really appreciate this stuff huh?". I respond "Yes I do," not really feeling a need to elaborate.

We cross the bridge and the bells of Notre Dame are ringing as we arrive and you can feel their deep powerful tones striking you at the core of your heart.

"Do you mind if I look inside?" I ask my accidental companion.

"Yeah OK" he responds.

So we are in the church, probably not even five minutes and I watch this guy unfold into sort of an anxiety attack.

"Are they having mass?" he asks while observing the tourists in the rows of chairs.
"No they are just tourists" I respond.
"I think this is mass..." he says.

"It isn't mass!" I respond with growing irritation.

(In retrospect this guy may have been comitting some sin against Islam by his presence, however I am just speculating, he didn't strike me as particularly religious.)

"I have to leave, its stuffy in here, I don't like it, I can't breathe".

(wow)

"How do I get out?! How do I get out?!" "I think this is where we part ways..."

(thank you!)

"Well OK, it was good meeting you," I say, "I hope I helped get you into the city OK, enjoy the Eiffel tower."

"Alright, I think I'm going to get a cab," he responds

(YES!)

"I think I'll take a cab back to the hotel later too," he trails off.

("Whatever... I'm sure they won't mind taking one of those bills off your hands..." I think to myself).

He turns around and then settles back into his panic "I can't get out! I can't get out!"

"It's just back the way you came!" I respond.

"I don't know! I don't know which way!"

(FINE!) While not physically, I essentially grab this guys hand, lead him back to the door, and he goes on his merry way. Next I try to go to the tower to climb it and find that I've just missed closing by 5 minutes. Figures.

Anyway hope you enjoy my pictures of Paris. My food tasted much better than it looks!