Monday, February 14, 2011
Feb 13 Ramble
Sure has been a while since the last Ramble. Cold, drizzly England and splitting fingers after just two days.
Etihad Air was a very pleasant airline to fly. Not overly long to Abu Dhabi where we spent a couple of hours in transit area which was just one big, overpriced duty-free mall. Can’t say as I expected anything else, and it’s not a fair descriptor of the country. Don’t expect that I’ll ever see more.
Manila has grown in every direction. 1964 and the last-lunch-before-flying-to-college memories I have seem so faraway. Hell, it’s only been forty-seven years. In 2003 I took Dylan to the Manila hotel, hoping that we could sit on the same terrace facing the bay and have a Tom Collins or G&T, as I did way back when, but it was not to be. The terrace was no more and the whole thing was being renovated. Anywayyy, after clearing Immigration and Customs…
We packed ourselves into Russ Woods’ Pajero and headed for his apartment in Pasig, where a very much welcomed San Miguel was presented to me. The next few days were spent going to various governmental agencies, from the Barangay (neighborhood) Headquarters, Pasig City Hall, Bureau of Foreign Affairs and to the U.S. embassy. The least pleasant and efficient was the latter. I arrived at 0730 for a 0745 appointment and watched as late-comers for 0730 appointments were called, processed and sent away; all this starting after 0830. The office I was to see closes at 1000, and I was finally called at 0930. Could the complaints to senators, congressmen and the head of DHS have slowed things down? Does the Black List contain my name? Is that why the black helicopters are seen over Pasig City so frequently of late?
After the requisite shopping, money-changing, shopping, relative-meeting, (did I mention shopping?) and restaurant-trying, we flew to Dumaguete on the 5th. Geneva welcomed us (me with the by-now-requisite
San Miguel) and fed us before we crashed for a “granny-nap”. While there’s no jet-lag incurred between Manila and Dgte., we were overcome by sleep-deprivation, run-arounditis and lack of meaningful exercise. I MISS MY BIKE!!!!
One of our main reasons for staying in Negros Oriental so long was to get an idea of what Valencia is like. We had hoped to find a rental near where Is wants to build and stay for the majority of the time. No such thing exists, or is easy to find (within our need parameters). We’re extremely fortunate that Geneva has, and offered, her spare room and hospitality. Her house is not that far from Tierra Alta, but is quite a bit lower, therefore not of the same micro-climate, but we can get a good idea of what to expect. We made a couple of trips to the site during mid-day and found it to be hot and blistering hot. Maybe we should check it out in early morning or night for a complete picture.
Siquijor was our next destination. It is an island to the east of Dgte, Southeast of Cebu, south of Bohol and north of Mindanao. We could see all of the other islands during our various circuits for sight-seeing. It’s quite an island, providing white sand beaches, mangrove swamps, diving reefs, foreign-owned luxury resorts, lookout peaks and a relatively quiet, slower-paced atmosphere. Geneva was responsible for our invitation to stay at a beach house owned by one of Dad’s (therefore my distant) cousins. She provided liaison and tutelage to the caretaker staff. We found, during our frequent visits to the markets, that the fish here are quite a different assortment than those around Dgte., even though you can see it across the straits. Frequent visits were necessary due to the threat of brown-outs, and the possibility that refrigerators would cease to do so. One resort served warm San Miguel, which I preferred to that served with ice.
Took a lot of interesting photos which I will try to upload via Geneva’s not-quite-so-fast internet connection. She operates on broadband, which has to be reloaded with a sort of pay-as-you-go card through some sort of wireless dongle. It’s pretty reliable and all beyond me.
Our return trip was one for the books. Let me start by describing the boat. It was an enclosed craft, sort of like an airplane fuselage grafted to an approximately 80’ diesel-powered hull. Seating is eight abreast separated by an aisle. Eight rows forward and below deck level, five amidships level with the deck-aft of the pilot house and eight more rows in the stern. There are large laminated glass windows lengthwise for all cabins, but none of them open (for good reason) and most are opaque or semi-transparent due to weathering, age and grime. There is one escape hatch in each of the fore and aft cabins and two amidships, into the upper cabin. The hatches are equipped with turnbuckle-sort-of latches, but are left open a crack for ventilation to supplement the questionable air conditioning. All luggage is carried into the cabins and held in one’s lap or stowed under seats, in the few vacant seats, in the aisles (?!?) or in front of the escape hatches-what the *@#$%&?!!!!!
Picture this: There are 60 passengers and one crew (hatch-opener) in the forward compartment. We are in row 6, five back from the hatch which has luggage piled around and in front of it. Something happens and everybody grabs their life vest and baggage then heads for the hatch. Soon it is piled high with writhing bodies and baggage trying to get out against the flow of incoming seawater. How about this? A fire erupts and everybody rushes to one side to escape it, and the boat capsizes while the hatches are still bolted, but ajar. These scenarios played in my mind like an in-flight movie on the trip over, thankfully across smooth seas.
The return trip was different. A cool breeze which had been welcomed on the Lazi side of the island was a stiff wind on the windward Siquijor side; driving up four-foot seas. We were fortunate to be in the aft cabin, in the next to the last row. The proximity of the hatch outweighed the spray breaking over our fantail and penetrating to the luggage piled in front of it. The first third of the trip was spent wallowing in a following sea and the rest was spent rolling and pitching through a quartering sea off the starboard bow. Two minutes away from the pier, the crew started handing out barf bags, several of which were used during the hour-long thrash across the Cebu Strait. Four seats away was an approximately three-year-old boy who started wailing hysterically and didn’t stop till we landed in Dumaguete. In the upper cabin was an American (I could tell by the accent) who was in irons and guarded by three Philippine National Police officers. He kept up a tirade of threats and belligerent trash-talk that would have caused me to break out the duct tape early in the trip. I admire the patience and professionalism the officers displayed. At first I thought he was drunk, but after listening for about 30 minutes I decided that he must have spent too much time in the sun. All through this, I breathed through my mouth to try and minimize the stench. I couldn’t wait to hit dry land pay homage to San Miguel.
Etihad Air was a very pleasant airline to fly. Not overly long to Abu Dhabi where we spent a couple of hours in transit area which was just one big, overpriced duty-free mall. Can’t say as I expected anything else, and it’s not a fair descriptor of the country. Don’t expect that I’ll ever see more.
Manila has grown in every direction. 1964 and the last-lunch-before-flying-to-college memories I have seem so faraway. Hell, it’s only been forty-seven years. In 2003 I took Dylan to the Manila hotel, hoping that we could sit on the same terrace facing the bay and have a Tom Collins or G&T, as I did way back when, but it was not to be. The terrace was no more and the whole thing was being renovated. Anywayyy, after clearing Immigration and Customs…
We packed ourselves into Russ Woods’ Pajero and headed for his apartment in Pasig, where a very much welcomed San Miguel was presented to me. The next few days were spent going to various governmental agencies, from the Barangay (neighborhood) Headquarters, Pasig City Hall, Bureau of Foreign Affairs and to the U.S. embassy. The least pleasant and efficient was the latter. I arrived at 0730 for a 0745 appointment and watched as late-comers for 0730 appointments were called, processed and sent away; all this starting after 0830. The office I was to see closes at 1000, and I was finally called at 0930. Could the complaints to senators, congressmen and the head of DHS have slowed things down? Does the Black List contain my name? Is that why the black helicopters are seen over Pasig City so frequently of late?
After the requisite shopping, money-changing, shopping, relative-meeting, (did I mention shopping?) and restaurant-trying, we flew to Dumaguete on the 5th. Geneva welcomed us (me with the by-now-requisite
San Miguel) and fed us before we crashed for a “granny-nap”. While there’s no jet-lag incurred between Manila and Dgte., we were overcome by sleep-deprivation, run-arounditis and lack of meaningful exercise. I MISS MY BIKE!!!!
One of our main reasons for staying in Negros Oriental so long was to get an idea of what Valencia is like. We had hoped to find a rental near where Is wants to build and stay for the majority of the time. No such thing exists, or is easy to find (within our need parameters). We’re extremely fortunate that Geneva has, and offered, her spare room and hospitality. Her house is not that far from Tierra Alta, but is quite a bit lower, therefore not of the same micro-climate, but we can get a good idea of what to expect. We made a couple of trips to the site during mid-day and found it to be hot and blistering hot. Maybe we should check it out in early morning or night for a complete picture.
Siquijor was our next destination. It is an island to the east of Dgte, Southeast of Cebu, south of Bohol and north of Mindanao. We could see all of the other islands during our various circuits for sight-seeing. It’s quite an island, providing white sand beaches, mangrove swamps, diving reefs, foreign-owned luxury resorts, lookout peaks and a relatively quiet, slower-paced atmosphere. Geneva was responsible for our invitation to stay at a beach house owned by one of Dad’s (therefore my distant) cousins. She provided liaison and tutelage to the caretaker staff. We found, during our frequent visits to the markets, that the fish here are quite a different assortment than those around Dgte., even though you can see it across the straits. Frequent visits were necessary due to the threat of brown-outs, and the possibility that refrigerators would cease to do so. One resort served warm San Miguel, which I preferred to that served with ice.
Took a lot of interesting photos which I will try to upload via Geneva’s not-quite-so-fast internet connection. She operates on broadband, which has to be reloaded with a sort of pay-as-you-go card through some sort of wireless dongle. It’s pretty reliable and all beyond me.
Our return trip was one for the books. Let me start by describing the boat. It was an enclosed craft, sort of like an airplane fuselage grafted to an approximately 80’ diesel-powered hull. Seating is eight abreast separated by an aisle. Eight rows forward and below deck level, five amidships level with the deck-aft of the pilot house and eight more rows in the stern. There are large laminated glass windows lengthwise for all cabins, but none of them open (for good reason) and most are opaque or semi-transparent due to weathering, age and grime. There is one escape hatch in each of the fore and aft cabins and two amidships, into the upper cabin. The hatches are equipped with turnbuckle-sort-of latches, but are left open a crack for ventilation to supplement the questionable air conditioning. All luggage is carried into the cabins and held in one’s lap or stowed under seats, in the few vacant seats, in the aisles (?!?) or in front of the escape hatches-what the *@#$%&?!!!!!
Picture this: There are 60 passengers and one crew (hatch-opener) in the forward compartment. We are in row 6, five back from the hatch which has luggage piled around and in front of it. Something happens and everybody grabs their life vest and baggage then heads for the hatch. Soon it is piled high with writhing bodies and baggage trying to get out against the flow of incoming seawater. How about this? A fire erupts and everybody rushes to one side to escape it, and the boat capsizes while the hatches are still bolted, but ajar. These scenarios played in my mind like an in-flight movie on the trip over, thankfully across smooth seas.
The return trip was different. A cool breeze which had been welcomed on the Lazi side of the island was a stiff wind on the windward Siquijor side; driving up four-foot seas. We were fortunate to be in the aft cabin, in the next to the last row. The proximity of the hatch outweighed the spray breaking over our fantail and penetrating to the luggage piled in front of it. The first third of the trip was spent wallowing in a following sea and the rest was spent rolling and pitching through a quartering sea off the starboard bow. Two minutes away from the pier, the crew started handing out barf bags, several of which were used during the hour-long thrash across the Cebu Strait. Four seats away was an approximately three-year-old boy who started wailing hysterically and didn’t stop till we landed in Dumaguete. In the upper cabin was an American (I could tell by the accent) who was in irons and guarded by three Philippine National Police officers. He kept up a tirade of threats and belligerent trash-talk that would have caused me to break out the duct tape early in the trip. I admire the patience and professionalism the officers displayed. At first I thought he was drunk, but after listening for about 30 minutes I decided that he must have spent too much time in the sun. All through this, I breathed through my mouth to try and minimize the stench. I couldn’t wait to hit dry land pay homage to San Miguel.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Manila, 01 Feb. 2011
The enemy shelling started early this morning, just as we were waking and making our coffee. The first salvo took out the latrine and three guys who wanted to get in before the sun heated it up. I just put my poncho over my head hoping to shut out the light and some of the noise-just another day in the seige of Manila...
...then I realized it was the sound of garbage cans-it's collection day, so I jumped up to start another day in Pasig City, Feb. 2011. I did a hand wash. It's unadvisable to send wool (from the flight over) and technical fabrics to the laundry-I have no use for doll's clothes. Had breakfast of papaya and a cupcake-like concoction of rice flour, sugar and lye(!) that I've eaten in the past under a name I can't remember; just like the current name which I , likewise, can't remember. It has the consistency of stiff jello and has a faint, sweet taste that leaves you waiting for the flavour-burst. It doesn't appear. Final treat was some cousin of Alupi' (cassava/coconut mixture steamed in banana or palm leaves). This version had Ube mixed in. The sweet potato-like root crop gave it another dimension. It was all good-strong coffee and a San Mig to top it off. It was almost noon, so I can
claim that it was really lunch. Another day in Manila is half gone...
...then I realized it was the sound of garbage cans-it's collection day, so I jumped up to start another day in Pasig City, Feb. 2011. I did a hand wash. It's unadvisable to send wool (from the flight over) and technical fabrics to the laundry-I have no use for doll's clothes. Had breakfast of papaya and a cupcake-like concoction of rice flour, sugar and lye(!) that I've eaten in the past under a name I can't remember; just like the current name which I , likewise, can't remember. It has the consistency of stiff jello and has a faint, sweet taste that leaves you waiting for the flavour-burst. It doesn't appear. Final treat was some cousin of Alupi' (cassava/coconut mixture steamed in banana or palm leaves). This version had Ube mixed in. The sweet potato-like root crop gave it another dimension. It was all good-strong coffee and a San Mig to top it off. It was almost noon, so I can
claim that it was really lunch. Another day in Manila is half gone...
Monday, January 24, 2011
24.01.2011 Ramble
Sitting here in the EasyHotel somewhere on the fringe of Heathrow listening to Jimmy Buffett singing The Great Filling Station Holdup and totally identifying with the line that goes; “….And I wish I was somewhere other than here…”. We are in an hotel room that makes “Spartan” sound luxurious.
I can only think of the tubes that one can rent in a Japanese airport for the purpose of sleeping off a long flight. No desk, table, chair, hangers (which is ok because there isn’t a closet), coffee pot, shampoo, bath mat or thermostat. Fer Chrissake, it’s winter and we’re in England!!! Had to ask for second set of towels, forgot to rent the remote for the TV, and think I’ll pass anyway. The bathroom is about the size of the one in my 23-foot camper, but without the bath tub. If the shower drain is as slow as the sink drain, we will have waste water flowing into the main room; but that won’t hurt the carpet-there isn’t any. One needs to drop the toilet cover prior to pushing the lever as it is very energetic and likes to give back.
But, it’s not all bad. We have a window facing the driveway and are entertained by incoming headlights doing a shadow show on the blind. We won’t want for fresh air as the window leaks. The rain beats a bluesy tattoo on the window panes and the jets flying overhead drown out the whistling wind. Every piece of luggage is within easy reach of our universal furniture, the settee/bed/desk/table. Internet access is cheap, £3.5 for 4 hours
It’s only a five minute walk through a dodgy neighborhood to the White Hart Pub. The smoked haddock, sautéed leeks in stilton sauce with new potatoes was good. The ale gave me a headache when the first gulp hit bottom, and tasted somewhat like Rickard’s Red-which I despise. That’s what happens when you choose your draft by the design of the tap handle. I was trying new things, anyway. The atmosphere was pleasant, quiet and restful until an Australian family reunion joined three tables next to us and settled in; making noises like a stoned digeridoo band.
We’re a long, long way from Algorfa, and miss it keenly. Drove to Alicante airport yesterday, turned in the rentacar and proceeded to kill four hours walking around the terminal and sitting in Burger King. I know, it’s Spain, dummy, and one doesn’t eat a Whopper for the last meal. It’s kind of reminiscent of my first meal in Alicante Province. We were taken to an English (what else) fish ‘n chips place by our resident friends. Like a brain surgeon, I ordered Southern Fried Chicken… ‘nuff said. Anyway, the flight to Gatwick was delayed, we arrived just before midnight and stood in queue for the immigration ordeal. Actually, I sailed through, not getting the third degree about the denied visa; as I had the last two landings. My line, the non-EU-passport line was shorter than Is’ so I got to cool my heels a while. Then we walked fourteen miles in the damp cold to the wrong bus stop and waited too long to find out that there was no shuttle to our hotel. Long walk back to the cab dispatcher and £17 later we debarked at the Holiday Express in God-knows-where.
Noon checkout, city bus (with all our luggage) back to Gatwick, Bus to Heathrow and shuttle to this place; ten minute walk to the local beer store and life is again good. Well…better. Tomorrow we ooze out of here at 1000, take shuttle back to Heathrow and walk around until our 2040 flight to Abu Dhabi. I’m thrilled. Two and a half hours later we fly toward Manila and whatever “adventures” await there.
I plan to buy a new SIM card there, so will be sending out a text with the new Philippine number. Don’t know how long before we get to Geneva’s at Bongbong, but will update you all when I can. Hasta la vista!
I can only think of the tubes that one can rent in a Japanese airport for the purpose of sleeping off a long flight. No desk, table, chair, hangers (which is ok because there isn’t a closet), coffee pot, shampoo, bath mat or thermostat. Fer Chrissake, it’s winter and we’re in England!!! Had to ask for second set of towels, forgot to rent the remote for the TV, and think I’ll pass anyway. The bathroom is about the size of the one in my 23-foot camper, but without the bath tub. If the shower drain is as slow as the sink drain, we will have waste water flowing into the main room; but that won’t hurt the carpet-there isn’t any. One needs to drop the toilet cover prior to pushing the lever as it is very energetic and likes to give back.
But, it’s not all bad. We have a window facing the driveway and are entertained by incoming headlights doing a shadow show on the blind. We won’t want for fresh air as the window leaks. The rain beats a bluesy tattoo on the window panes and the jets flying overhead drown out the whistling wind. Every piece of luggage is within easy reach of our universal furniture, the settee/bed/desk/table. Internet access is cheap, £3.5 for 4 hours
It’s only a five minute walk through a dodgy neighborhood to the White Hart Pub. The smoked haddock, sautéed leeks in stilton sauce with new potatoes was good. The ale gave me a headache when the first gulp hit bottom, and tasted somewhat like Rickard’s Red-which I despise. That’s what happens when you choose your draft by the design of the tap handle. I was trying new things, anyway. The atmosphere was pleasant, quiet and restful until an Australian family reunion joined three tables next to us and settled in; making noises like a stoned digeridoo band.
We’re a long, long way from Algorfa, and miss it keenly. Drove to Alicante airport yesterday, turned in the rentacar and proceeded to kill four hours walking around the terminal and sitting in Burger King. I know, it’s Spain, dummy, and one doesn’t eat a Whopper for the last meal. It’s kind of reminiscent of my first meal in Alicante Province. We were taken to an English (what else) fish ‘n chips place by our resident friends. Like a brain surgeon, I ordered Southern Fried Chicken… ‘nuff said. Anyway, the flight to Gatwick was delayed, we arrived just before midnight and stood in queue for the immigration ordeal. Actually, I sailed through, not getting the third degree about the denied visa; as I had the last two landings. My line, the non-EU-passport line was shorter than Is’ so I got to cool my heels a while. Then we walked fourteen miles in the damp cold to the wrong bus stop and waited too long to find out that there was no shuttle to our hotel. Long walk back to the cab dispatcher and £17 later we debarked at the Holiday Express in God-knows-where.
Noon checkout, city bus (with all our luggage) back to Gatwick, Bus to Heathrow and shuttle to this place; ten minute walk to the local beer store and life is again good. Well…better. Tomorrow we ooze out of here at 1000, take shuttle back to Heathrow and walk around until our 2040 flight to Abu Dhabi. I’m thrilled. Two and a half hours later we fly toward Manila and whatever “adventures” await there.
I plan to buy a new SIM card there, so will be sending out a text with the new Philippine number. Don’t know how long before we get to Geneva’s at Bongbong, but will update you all when I can. Hasta la vista!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
18 Jan 2011 Ramble
We're down to our last week here, dreading leaving, yet looking forward to visiting the Philippines. We'll be landing in Manila on the 26th, and will probably spend a couple of days recovering. Plan to buy sim cards for our phones, and may be able to hook up to internet, but don't hold your breath.
We may have to visit some embassies, maybe visit with various relatives, and then book flight to Dumaguete or Cebu, as the stars dictate.
Our last week here will be spent packing, cycling as much as possible, entertaining all the new friends we've made and driving around to various sights and sites we've missed in our all-too-brief stay. Next year will be longer, less hectic (I hope) and more restful. I'll have to think less about how much snow I would have shoveled back home.
Don't know when I'll next update. Hasta luego.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Cycle day in Algorfa
10 JanuarySunday’s big question was, “Do I watch cycling or do it?” It was race day in Algorfa, with our team competing among others with neighboring Almoradi. About fifty cyclists showed to run the race which starts right next to
Photos courtesy of Is, who watched it for me.
Did I describe my “mates”? The average age is probably about 60, with 83 being the oldest. He rides a fixie. For the uninitiated, a fixie is a single speed bike with a gear combination of your own choosing. There is no free-wheeling. When the rear wheel rotates, the cranks (and your feet) rotate. So, when you are going downhill, you essentially peddle like hell to keep your feet from being amputated. Going uphill is another story. One guy from
I asked one fellow if, in the summer, most guys used hydration packs. His answer in a thick Scottish brogue was, “Most people stay indoors.” I guess the group cycles mainly during the “cold” months. Today was, I’m told, typical. I started in full length bibs, long-sleeved undershirt, winter top and a screaming-yellow wind vest, thin full gloves and half-finger gloves on top of that. My Bell Metro helmet, was fine until about eleven, when the lack of ventilation almost made me take it off. At our noon stop I stripped down to a minimum, removing the undershirt and my zip-off sleeves. Couldn’t do anything about the helmet or the bibs, and was wringing wet when I got home.
We have less than two weeks left here, and are both reticent to depart-but the tickets are bought and I have to leave. Gotta work on the visa thing once I get back to Westbrook. On the 23rd we fly to Gatwick, overnight near there, take a train to Heathrow area the next day and fly off toward
A few comments on a wine we liked: Gran Viñedo de Hacendado, a red naturally, from the Tempranillo grape. No vintage, but it is “Vino de la tierra de Castillo” and bottled in Barrica de Roble. I guess that equates to Castillian vin du pays bottled in the winery of Roble. Anyway, it was very good, considering that it cost no more than €1.45, was light and well-balanced. I prefer a little more gout de terre, but can’t have everything.
I will certainly miss the food. A trip through Carrefour, a French-owned chain supermarket/department store is a major form of entertainment. Not only are there three aisles of wine, two of liquor and two of beer; you can find everything from frozen suckling pig (whole in shrink-wrap) to Ortega Taco kits. Allioli takes up about four feet of refrigerator counter with every variation I didn’t know existed. Besides the traditional, I like the parsley-flavoured version. Chorizos, sausages, cured meats-my arteries will never be the same! Lamb is not a curiosity-it is a regular feature. Serrano hams hang from racks like the carcasses Rocky used for sparring practice. Vegetables from every corner of the globe, and cheap!! The fresh seafood runs the gamut from anchovies to octopus, with shellfish galore. A week ago, we bought two very respectable rainbow trout from
Saturday, January 8, 2011
08.01.2011
Sitting in an internet bar/cafe, trying to connect with Brooke and Dre. British footie on the telly just over my head, so my headset and microphone allow marginal conversation. The beer is cold and good, though.
Tomorrow is race day in Algorfa. I'm torn between riding with the peloton I've hooked up with or watching the local clubs race. I have a couple of new tires and great jerseys from DylKris to try out, so I'll probably do a ride. Hoping that the puncture/blowout flats are all done for a while.
Latest post 08.01.2011
03.01.2011 Ramble
Rat-Bastard rides again, despite an ignominious start to the cycling year. Thinking that the First was Sunday, I showed up at Studz Bar in Benijofar for the club ride at 0945. Being the First and a Saturday, the ride wasn’t supposed to happen no matter how long I waited, So I peddled off toward Torrevieja and had my first flat of the year. Serves me right for doing a good deed. Having ridden past a large piece of glass in the cycle path on the way in, I tried to just kick it off the path on my way out. Never saw the one that got me. 20 miles in 60+ sunshine-I love it!
Sunday saw twelve of us start out to do about 75K from Studz to the
After a quick wash and change at home, we took off for
Today, I raised the seat-post as high as was safe on Is’ fat-tire city bike, donned a mask to prevent recognition (it has no top tube, a basket on the handlebars fenders a bell and flats) and peddled the 10 kliks to Ciudad Quesada where I bought the only 700x23C tire in stock. The tire was a basic skin for €15, about the right price, but the two tubes were the equivalent of $6.70 each. Outrageous!! I will be bringing a bunch of tubes over here next winter-does anybody want to get in on buying a case? We can order it when I get in back in April, so that we have plenty for the season. Perhaps the Team Captain can put out an e-mail…?
Anyway, New Year’s Eve was relatively quiet. I cooked a couple of Teriyaki steaks, had a €1.45 bottle of nondescript Jumilla red wine, labeled Castillo San Simon. Grape variety is Monastrell, no vintage year, but the bodega has been in business since 1890. I wonder why.
Back to the festivities. We walked down to the plaza around 2330, collected the packet of grapes which each person is given by the Ayuntieamento (town government). These are meant to be eaten-one at each stroke of the church bell-at midnight. Along with the grapes we were issued a paper hat, noise-makers, lei and plastic vampire fangs. I was a party-pooper and ignored the canines
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
03.01.2011 Ramble
03.01.2011 Ramble
Rat-Bastard rides again, despite an ignominious start to the cycling year. Thinking that the First was Sunday, I showed up at Studz Bar in Benijofar for the club ride at 0945. Being the First and a Saturday, the ride wasn’t supposed to happen no matter how long I waited, So I peddled off toward Torrevieja and had my first flat of the year. Serves me right for doing a good deed. Having ridden past a large piece of glass in the cycle path on the way in, I tried to just kick it off the path on my way out. Never saw the one that got me. 20 miles in 60+ sunshine-I love it!
Sunday saw twelve of us start out to do about 75K from Studz to the
After a quick wash and change at home, we took off for
Today, I raised the seat-post as high as was safe on Is’ fat-tire city bike, donned a mask to prevent recognition (it has no top tube, a basket on the handlebars fenders a bell and flats) and peddled the 10 kliks to Ciudad Quesada where I bought the only 700x23C tire in stock. The tire was a basic skin for €15, about the right price, but the two tubes were the equivalent of $6.70 each. Outrageous!! I will be bringing a bunch of tubes over here next winter-does anybody want to get in on buying a case? We can order it when I get in back in April, so that we have plenty for the season. Perhaps the Team Captain can put out an e-mail…?
Anyway, New Year’s Eve was relatively quiet. I cooked a couple of Teriyaki steaks, had a €1.45 bottle of nondescript Jumilla red wine, labeled Castillo San Simon. Grape variety is Monastrell, no vintage year, but the bodega has been in business since 1890. I wonder why.
Back to the festivities. We walked down to the plaza around 2330, collected the packet of grapes which each person is given by the Ayuntieamento (town government). These are meant to be eaten-one at each stroke of the church bell-at midnight. Along with the grapes we were issued a paper hat, noise-makers, lei and plastic vampire fangs. I was a party-pooper and ignored the canines
Photos will not be in proper spot. I composed a WORD document at home and inserted photos, but it wouldn't paste to this format. Anywayyy....
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