The main pool at the Acapulco Princess. There is a swim-up bar behind the waterfall. Photo by Yahn Smith
If anyone saw my two brief (error-ridden) blog comments made in Paris, then you know that we had an "exciting" landing at Charles De Gaulle Airport. As to the "error ridden" part: Don't get me started on the difficulties of the French keyboard ... it's not the qwerty we're used to ... the q and the a are reversed, the w is on the bottom row under the q (which is where the a should be), the m is where the colon and semicolon should be, and among other challenges, there are various key combinations to strike to make certain punctuation marks, including the aforesaid colon and semicolon, as well as the @, and others. Jeez Louise!!!! Strictly hunt and peck ... then hunt for the controlling key.... Even Mrs. Denny would have been at a loss.... But I digress....
On final approach to CDG, our plane suddenly pulled up just before touchdown, heading back into the wild blue yonder (my Daddy the pilot drilled me in the Air Force hymn from a young age) and pouring on the gas in a steep climb. Flying with Daddy when I was a child, and my air travel in later years, told me immediately that something untoward was happening. We made a wiiiiiiiiide circle over the airport, and finally came back on another approach ... landed and bounced ... and then saw all the emergency vehicles arrayed on either side of us ... fire engines, ambulances, paramedic vans, etc. It seems the light on the control panel which indicates the landing gear is properly locked failed to register. So ... there was no certainty that the wheels wouldn't collapse when we touched ground. (It was also not a good time to remember that I was once told by a commercial airline pilot that a landing is nothing but a controlled crash....) We had to disembark via stairs onto the tarmac, rather than via the usual jetway, and then were bused into the Customs terminal.
I must say that after our landing experience, it was NOT comforting to hear yesterday that American Airlines, the carrier we flew, pulled 300 (300!!!) or so of its planes from service for "maintenance issues", canceling many flights in the process. So ... right after being thankful that AA didn't kill us on landing, I am glad we were not stranded in Paris (although there are worse places) when AA scrubbed those 300+ flights.
When we planned this trip, I broke a long-standing rule to NEVER again fly an American air carrier ... ANY of them ... if there was a decent foreign alternative. Unfortunately, American carriers simply cannot hold a candle to foreign airlines such as Cathay Pacific, Air France, Singapore, Thai, etc. As with all rules, I make an exception to that one in the case of Aeroflot or Egypt Air (when they serve dinner, you know what happens to old camels who can no longer carry tourists around the Pyramids). Indeed, our AA flight to Paris had been delayed leaving Dallas for "maintenance problems" as the pilot announced, and all during the flight my reading light and others in the cabin failed to operate, which meant I couldn't read on the flight .... NOT a good thing. IMHO, it is basically a good rule of thumb to do everything possible to fly on a good foreign airline in your travels, if at all possible. But again I digress....
When we booked our trip, we arranged for transfers via van from and back to the airport, and by the time we cleared Customs after all the delay, I feared (justly it seems) that our driver had given up on us ... so I chased down a really cute little French guy at baggage claim, and using my fractured French in counterpoint to his fractured English, managed to persuade him to use his cell phone to call the company which had arranged our transfers. Sure enough, our driver had left and was just exiting the airport when his company called and sent him back for les travel-frazzled girls. And so, at last we left the airport and ventured into Paris itself. But ... more on that (and pictures!) in a few days. Today the topic is other vacations ... specifically, summer vacations during the late '50s, early to mid-'60s....
The poet Sylvia Plath (a taco or two shy of a combo platter in many ways, but a brilliant talent before she turned on the gas and put her head in the oven) articulated such feelings in her poem Ennui when she wrote:
designing futures where nothing will occur:
cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning she
will still predict no perils left to conquer.
Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knight
finds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheard
of, while blasé princesses indict
tilts at terror as downright absurd.
The beast in Jamesian grove will never jump,
compelling hero’s dull career to crisis;
and when insouciant angels play God’s trump,
while bored arena crowds for once look eager,
hoping toward havoc, neither pleas nor prizes
shall coax from doom’s blank door lady or tiger.
Ah ... The Lady or the Tiger ... one of my favorite stories ... first read in Brownie Kimbrough's class at Childress Junior High School. I remember we had some spirited discussions in class about it ... the guys were all sure the tiger came out of the door, and the more romantically inclined girls just knew it was the lady.... Despite my deep-seated romanticism, I could never quite make up my mind ... still can't ... depends entirely on my mindset when I ponder the question, and perhaps my pervasive Libra tendencies to see and weigh all sides of an argument ... which can get a bit tedious as Yahn will tell you, particularly when we're just trying to pick a place to go to dinner.... But once more I digress....
I remember I always looked forward to summer vacation ... getting away from the everyday, the quotidian, all things Childress.... We nearly always went to Denver in the summer, to visit Daddy's family. And there was soooo much to do there ... the Denver Zoo and Museum of Natural History (two of the best in the country, IMHO) ... Elitch's and Lakeside amusement parks (those roller coasters ... the old, rickety wooden kind!!!), exotic things like the Lotus Room (there wasn't even a semblance of a Chinese restaurant in Childress then) and the Fuji-En (Japanese, with tatami rooms ... where I persuaded Daddy to buy my first set of chopsticks so I would know how to properly eat with them when someday I made it to Asia) ... so many wonders....
The summer of 1960 (between my freshman and sophomore years at CHS) we actually branched out with my aunt and uncle and their two daughters and went from Denver to Yellowstone National Park ... they slept in a tent and Daddy, Scott and I took the little Airstream camper ... for which I was extremely grateful the first night as you could hear bears rustling around the campsite. The rangers (and the signs all over the park) warned ... repeatedly and in dire terms ... of the dangers of feeding the bears, or not securing your food ... and yet there were always those who just refused to heed the warnings. I remember one day we had gone to see the Fountain Paint Pots, and when we walked back to the car we found the parking area cordoned off by rangers ... some fool had left a picnic lunch in his car, and left the windows down ... and somehow a bear (resourceful critters, like their "cousins" cats) had managed to climb into the car and was chowing down (and excreting) lustily ... rendering the car uninhabitable, even once the bear was permitted to amble lazily on his way.
At Yellowstone (which I remember as having the best vanilla ice cream in the world, later acquaintance with Blue Bell notwithstanding), I was absolutely fascinated with the college kids (called "savages") who worked there during the summer. I thought that would be such a cooool summer job ... but missed out on that particular aspiration, although our dear Clara (Robinson Meek, of course) did achieve it. And BTW, Clara ... I am sure we would all be interested in your stories about that ... if we can persuade you to write them ...?
Of course, the 1960 film Where the Boys Are, a story of college girls (and guys!!!) on spring break in Fort Lauderdale, was the uber adolescent female vacation fantasy. It starred Dolores Hart before she became a nun, George Hamilton when he was only medium well done, Yvette Mimieux at her loveliest and most vulnerable before she owned a sweatshop in Haiti, Connie Francis, who also sang the killer title song, and others, and I know my friends and I were certainly inspired by it. Then in 1962, the film Rome Adventure (Troy Donahue, Suzanne Pleshette, Angie Dickinson) proved the genesis of my vow to someday spend a magical summer in The Eternal City. (Another vow ... with all that vowing, perhaps Dolores Hart is not the only one who should have entered a religious order ... grin.) By the time I did make it to Italy, I was well beyond teenaged, and I only got two weeks, but the magic of Roma, Napoli, Pompeii, Sorrento and bella bella Venezia (one of my very favorite places) was just as strong as I'd imagined so many years earlier. And BTW, Troy Donahue and others of the 1960s "heartthrob" persuasion were never really my cuppa beef tea when I was younger. JoAnn had Paul Newman, but I went for dark, sensitive, brooding types ... the recently mentioned George Maharis of Route 66 springs most readily to mind; or the bald, sensitive, brooding Yul Brynner (never cared for him when they slapped a wig on him); or the variously toupee'd or bald (doesn't matter), sensitive, brooding, utterly magnificent Sean Connery. And so I married a blond, sensitive, brooding type.... Go figure....
In 1988, our 25th year after graduation from CHS, I prevailed upon a very popular DJ friend of mine in Houston to make a special tape (now expanded and transferred to a set of three CDs) for a "slumber party" Linda Kay was hosting for the gang in honor of the occasion. The rock bottom criterion I set for myself while compiling the music was that it all had to be popular music from our junior high and high school years, containing nothing after the summer of 1963. I was also pleased that the music I selected did not repeat any single artist, difficult to do with some performers like Elvis, Roy Orbison, the Four Seasons, Chuck Berry, Ray Charles, et al. Those who know me well (and who have heard the tape or CDs) were not surprised that the very first song on the set is Where the Boys Are ... and the beautiful Al Di La from Rome Adventure (sung meltingly in Italian by Emilio Pericoli) which speaks of a love beyond all others, a love "beyond the beyond", is also on the CD set. And ... the Theme from Exodus (Ferrante and Teicher), which I named as my favorite song in my Senior Profile in The Corral, is also there ... and remains the song I would pick if stranded on a desert island with only one song I could hear for the rest of my life. Some things deserve constancy, despite the imperative for change.... But again I digress....
Balinese rice workers near Ubud, Bali, Indonesia. Photo by Yahn Smith
If you are a regular reader of the blog (and why wouldn't you be?), you know I recently inaugurated a continuing (albeit finite) series featuring my humor column As You Like It, which I wrote for two years for The Corral at CHS, and during the summer of 1962 for The Childress Index. So, as I continue decompression after le holiday in La Belle France, I've decided to share with you a column I did on the subject of summer vacations during my Index summer. As I have previously promised and averred (difficult though it may be), I have not changed one embarrassing, cringe-inducing word of the column as it originally was published (shortly after Gutenberg's marvelous invention ... grin), and only hope again that you will deal with me kindly in regarding this modest effort. Of course, I do hope you enjoy it ... and that perhaps it brings back some memories of your own vacations ... which BTW, we would be delighted to publish under 'Cat Tracks, or as "comments" to this post. That is a hint ... not to say a heartfelt plea....
As You Like It
by Jennifer Johnston
Aloha! Thought you got rid of me, didn't you? Oh well, smile -- you can't win them all ... snarf, snarf.
Now that summer vacation is actually here, you are probably spending your time doing the things you dreamed about during the school year -- mopping, dusting, hanging out clothes, making beds, washing windows and cooking meals for Momsie, or working your fingers to the bone for some slave-driving boss -- no offense, Mr. Higley. But -- BUT -- if you are one of the lucky ones -- one whose parents have several assorted maids, three cars, etc., and who has no desire for the material things in life -- you will spend your summer vacation doing various things which we all love and enjoy.
This column is dedicated to those people (like me) who must spend their summer in an office or under a clothes line. In it, I shall attempt to present a mental picture to those of you who cannot enjoy loafing and would like to see how the other eighth lives.
Picture yourself, far away from civilization -- beautiful thought, eh wot -- lounging around around a camping area, enjoying the beauties of nature in some mountainous wooded section. No one around for hundreds of miles -- all right, maybe two or three trailer spaces over -- but anyway, back to the topic. There you sit, at peace with the world, until you suddenly hear a buzzing around your ear -- and you discover you're camped three feet from a stagnant stream. Yes, dear people -- mosquitoes -- but this is a problem easily overcome. All you have to do is reach for the insect repellent. So what if you forgot it? You can always stay inside the trailer, or stand in the line of smoke from the campfire.
So the next day, you go into town and buy some mosquito repellent. Your worries are over -- until a bear smells your food -- you didn't know you were having company for supper, did you? And of course, no mountain vacation would be complete without a swim in a cool, clear mountain lake. The fact that the lake runs into a waterfall doesn't bother you at all. Mainly because you don't know that the lake runs into a waterfall. By the time you find out -- it's too late for you to be bothered about much of anything.
Now let your mind wander to the seashore. Can't you just see yourself, basking in the hot sun on the hot sand? Loafing -- to put it bluntly. You're so comfortable that you don't want to move. So you drift off to sleep. Of course the fact that you will probably wake up three hours later with a third-degree sunburn doesn't bother you -- until three hours later, anyway.
But, undaunted, you make your way into the cool, blue shark-infested water. Although you have been warned of several dangers you might encounter, you swim on -- nothing can happen to you -- you're just on vacation. Well, you're right -- nothing can happen to you -- unless you get caught in the undertow, washed up on the rocks, or meet a shark face to fang.
For those of you who stay home during the summer, but do not have jobs to do, you can always spend your time going swimming, and going bowling, and going swimming, and going to the show, and going swimming, and if you are still in a mood to continue with this, you're on your own.
Well, I'm running out of ideas, so I shall let you rest your eyes -- and stomachs. Snarf, snarf.
Purcell Castle, County Tipperary, Ireland Photo by Yahn Smith
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14 comments:
Dear Jennifer-----reading your blog is mind boggling (in a good way)----causing great consternation in where to begin with comments. So I'm just going out there with "early travel" in mind.
The first trips I remember were to my grandparents who lived in Altus, OK., all of 60 miles away. You would think we were going to Mars-----such preparation and excitement.
My two brothers, my sister, my parents, and the dog piled into a huge old DeSoto. My dad always said we were absolutely NOT taking that danged dog. We thought we were really pulling a fast one on him by smuggling Rinny into the back floorboard, right behind dad. Of course the dog was panting louder than the din, and after we'd crossed the first bridge out of Estelline, Dad would act SO surprised and decide we were too far to take him back.
Of course there was no air conditiong, so we would take a block of ice in the floorboard and eat ice to keep cool. Hollis was the halfway point, at which time we got to stop at the drug store on the main street. What a treat!----sitting on the swivel stools drinking a fountain soda. We called them "chokey cokes and slimy limes".
For the next 30 miles we asked every mile the famous "are we there yet?".
Altus seemed cosmopolitan to me at the time. We could even take a bus to town----which was probably eight blocks away. We picnicked at Crater Lake and "caught" fish that Grandad sneaked on our lines.
I'll add to the travel memories a little at a time. I don't want to lose my audience yet----in case there is an audience.
I know I must respond to the Yellowstone Park experince, especially in regard to your vanilla ice cream.
Airline problems:
One of my biggest fears would be to find myself on one of those airplanes that has to sit for hours and hours waiting for takeoff or whatever and not be able to get off of the plane. Talk about criminal behavior! I think that would be it. I am all for a passenger bill of rights. I am so glad that didn't happen to you guys either along with the other flight issues. I got the shivers when I read that a landing is only a controlled crash. That is just not reassuring at all. I am happy you guys "survived to tell the tale" and made it home okay.
Family Vacations:
For several years in a row, the Sooter family had family reunions in South Fork, Colorado. We always stayed in the same place in cabins. My brothers and cousins always had a great time roaming the mountain sides and even rafting on the rivers. I don't know where the adults were, but it was a fun time for the kids. As a very young teen, I was quite taken by a young man whose parents owned the cabins. He was so cute (I thought) and such fun. As Jennifer would say my teenage angst was in full force. Sadly, I don't remember his name even though we did correspond by letter a couple of times. FYI..This was prior to moving to Childress. I always intended for us to take our girls there but we never did. I understand that it is quite the place to go now with many more activities. At the time we went there, it was all rest, relaxation and fishing.
One other memorable trip to the mountains was a trip to Taos a few years ago. We went with our daughter, son-in-law, and grandson Cole who was much younger. All the way to Taos we all watched Cole's favorite video of that time which was called "Pat the Bunny." As a result, for the entire time trip, the words to "Pat the Bunny," were permanently stuck in all of our heads and we were prone to burst out in the song at any moment. Anyway when we arrived at the condos where we were staying way up in the mountains, we were warned that there were alot of bears in the area, but generally they would stay away from the sounds of people. One of the best things about the area was a beautiful secluded small private lake across the road that we had access to. It was beautiful and we walked over and thoroughly enjoyed picnics and watching Cole fish with his Snoopy pole. On one occasion our son-in-law walked over alone to fish. He didn't stay long before he came back. It seems that as he stood fishing and enjoying the solitude, he suddenly heard a rustling and moving nearby. The first thought was a bear was near. Sheepishly he told us that he immediately burst into song, singing "Pat the Bunny" hoping to scare the intruder away. Whatever it was nearby wasted no time in leaving. We have laughed about that great adventure many times.
One last family vacation that comes to my mind occured in the late '50s. My parents loaded my brother, Dwight, and me along with our oldest brother, Roy into the family car and off we went for an extended vacation across America. As well as I can remember we visited Colorado, Montana, Wyoming, Utah, and Chicago. We saw the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone Park, the Salt Lake in Utah, Mount Rushmore and much more. We even camped out. Now you have to keep in mind that there were 5 of us in a small car loaded with luggage, food and much more. I don't know how long the trip was supposed to last, but I think after 2 weeks my parents cut the trip short and headed home. Dwight and I pretty much quarreled and bickered the entire trip sitting in the backseat. You know the drill; we would draw an imaginary line across the seat daring one another to "cross the line." Of course, it didn't take long for a finger or two to edge over the "line" and off we would go. Threats of stopping the car, spanking, and etc. worked only briefly. Boy, can you imagine traveling today without videos, cd's, cell phones, and tv's and headphones. My poor parents! BTW we do have much of this trip on a video converted from an old 8mm film.
Jennifer, thanks for giving me an opportunity to share those old memories. Jim and I do love the cd you made with all the old songs, too. As a side, when we made the trip with our parents across America, Elvis had arrived on the scene, and my older brother suffered from teenage angst missing the girl friend of the time and we listened to a lot of Elvis and other songs of the day via the radio when we could get a station.
Needless to say, the "As You Like It" columns are always fun to read again.
Hey Jenn: Time for that get-together we've been talking about, which sounds great for April! If your schedule works out and you can carve out some time, let's do lunch or dinner on Tue. or Wed. Let me know! Blessings on you!
The Bish
p.s. Yahn, I only drink at five o'clock, but as the song says, It's five o'clock somewhere! Don't tell anyone, the religious community may be offended.
Clara,
You have drawn an absolutely wonderful word picture of your family, and I especially like the Rinny story. Now I am looking forward to your Yellowstone Park story. I had forgotten that you had done that, but I always admired your self confidence and independence.
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When I was a kid, like everybody I knew, I literally lived for those summer vacations. Until I was five we lived in McKinney, Texas and went to Galveston for summer vacations. I well remember the tourist court up on stilts (as they do in Galveston for hurricane protection), the beach, the ferry ride to Bolivar, a little tour boat called the "Carmencita", and eating at Gaido's. Of course Gaido's was much smaller then but just as good. It's the only "Seawall" restaurant that the locals frequent to this day.
Then in 1950, miracle of miracles, we moved to Galveston. It was the same year that the Gulf Freeway from Houston to Galveston opened and it's been under constant construction ever since. A contractor once told me that there is no money in completing highways... only in building them.
One of the things I am most grateful for is growing up on the beach in Galveston. There is now a large Shell gas station on the corner of Seawall Blvd. and Broadway where our house once stood directly across the street from Stewart Beach. But when you live in a resort community where do you go for vacation?
Garner State Park! Near Uvalde south of San Antonio. Again like everybody, I remember those days as idyllic. Swimming in the Frio River (it's fed by icy cold natural springs), sleeping outdoors, hiking in the hills, and going dancing every night. No I'm not hallucinating again. There was a huge outdoor dance pavilion (still is in fact, we went by there a few years ago) under a gigantic live oak tree.
At the time I had hated it, but my mother had made me take ballroom dancing at the YWCA when I was seven or eight years old. Boy did that pay off. When I was eight or nine years old I was the "polka king" of Garner State Park. It didn't hurt in Junior High and High School that I was one of the very few boys who actually knew how to dance. Then came the Twist and the playing field was all level again. Damn!
We usually took my best friend, Roy Milina, with us to keep me company. We always made a day trip or two down to Piedras Negras just across the Rio Grande from Eagle Pass (it was perfectly safe to do that in those days). There was a restaurant called the "El Moderno" in Pedras Negras, which had a modernistic, pseudo-Frank Lloyd Wright decor. I was in hog heaven. They had a dark blue mirrored bar, dance floor, and bandstand. It was like a Fred and Ginger movie set to me. All very elegant, very 1930s modern, and way too good to be true. I can still remember wanting to crawl under the table as my friend Roy took his Mexican combo plate and mixed it all together with his fork. When he saw that I was about to implode, he said quite innocently, "It all tastes the same anyway," and happily ate his Mexican Mush.
Those were truly wonderful days. If there were bad things, which I'm sure there probably were, I don't remember them. Ah, if only all of life's memories could be the sweet. I guess it's something to shoot for.
Oh my! Such a plethora of wonderful comments. I hardly know where to begin ... but I'm sure I'll figure it out....
Clara, your story about your trips to "cosmopolitan" Altus is just wonderful ... such a time capsule of family travel during those years. Until about 1956 or 1957, we always drove to Denver from Childress, up 287 over Raton Pass, leaving Childress about 3:30 or 4:00 in the morning so we'd get to Denver at a reasonable hour. I've always liked to read when I'm traveling (and couldn't on the Paris flight because of the light and "maintenance" problems ... grrr!) and I remember always having my flashlight to read by until the sun climbed high enough. Of course we had sandwiches to eat on the road ... but one of my favorite things was to stop for a cold Coke (in the old bottles) and then put peanuts in it and shake it up, drinking and munching simultaneously and happily.
Of course there was no air conditioning in the car ... but we didn't know to miss it then.
Starting in the late 1950s, after my parents divorced (but with both of them living in Denver), I always caught the overnight Fort Worth and Denver train there at the old Childress depot, and would sit there reading in my seat all night (using a flashlight again after the railroad car lights were dimmed), counting off the towns along the way.
Considering that I was about 11 years old when I started the train trips, I always felt quite grown up, being allowed to take the overnight train alone. Don't know if that would be possible today, but I remember those unchaperoned railroad "adventures" so well. The train always left Childress about 7:00 p.m. and arrived in Denver almost exactly 12 hours later, and I recall so clearly stepping out into the crisp Colorado morning air....
I'm looking forward to more of your travel stories, and those about being a "savage" at Yellowstone ... and that marvelous vanilla ice cream. I hope you're not going to tell me they found out it was made of pesticides.... Or has that only become fashionable in the past few years????
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Nicki, your story about the car trips jogged my memory, too ... and the South Fork area of Colorado, the Taos region ... and the Grand Tetons! ... are all lovely. I had to laugh at your story about you and your brother ... it sounded so much like traveling in the car with my brother Scott. Threats of grounding and promised (but non-existent) physical violence never dissuaded us from our self-appointed tasks of irritating each other to the max ... and then pointing and declaiming loudly, "He/She started it!!!"
I am envious that your parents allowed you to listen to Elvis in the car ... mine wouldn't hear of it. (grin) But, their choices in music ... whenever we could pick up a radio station between towns ... did give me a good grounding in old Big Band and "Your Hit Parade"-type music, for which I am grateful.
And I am so glad that you and Jim have enjoyed listening to those CDs. I love to play them occasionally and let them just take me back to those times. A fabulous nostalgia trip for sure, for which I owe my friend the DJ (Johnny Goyen) a great debt ... although he has never let me pay him for doing the work, even when we expanded the original tape to the CDs. A good friend, indeed....
As for airline problems ... once Yahn and I were on a plane bound out of Athens (after our trip there and a cruise through the Greek Islands and up to Instanbul) which was held hostage for about six hours by striking Greek transit workers, and was absolutely miserable. No air conditioning, no water ... awful, awful, awful!!! And we missed our connecting flight in New York ... fortunately TWA put us up in an airport hotel for the night.
However, once we had a six-hour delay out of London after the plane was loaded ... but since we were flying free First Class (frequent flyer miles ... yaaaay!!!!), we just kept quaffing all that champagne and munching the gourmet snacks they were serving. Not nearly as bad as Athens....
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Phil, I am SO delighted that we'll be in Dallas when you are ... and we are SO looking forward to that much-anticipated get-together. And ... and ... Nicki and Jim are coming from Amarillo, and Linda Kay and Wayne from Grapevine, and maybe Clara and Don from Boerne ... it's going to be a fine time!!! Let's do Pappadeaux's ... one of our VERY favorite places in Texas ... AND they have a wonderful oyster bar!!! And you're right ... it will be 5:00 o'clock somewhere!!! I used to say that a lot when I worked in legal....
Yahn says we won't tell the religious community ... so nothing to be offended about ... grin....
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Soon after we were married, Yahn introduced me to Gaido's on the Seawall in Galveston ... and I fell in love with the place ... even the giant crab outside.... When we lived in Dallas 1968-80, we tried to get down to Galveston every year ... and during our 20 years in Houston, we went as often as possible. People used to love to visit us and make the trip to the island, because Yahn is so knowledgeable about Galveston history, and our guests always said it was better than having a tour guide. We will get back down there eventually, I'm sure....
We've also been in Piedras Negras a few times ... to the same El Moderno he went to as a child ... and I so enjoyed seeing Garner State Park where "the Polka King" spent so many happy days. And ... he is still a good dancer ... always was when we were dating ... just no polkas ... but now it takes more effort to get him on the dance floor....
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The picture Jennifer included at the top of this post was taken in 1983 at the Acapulco Princess hotel. We went there several times over the years. It was and to my best knowledge still is one of the most beautiful resort properties I've ever seen anywhere in the world. The Four Seasons Resort at Jimbaran Bay, Bali, Indonesia would have to be right there in the running.
The photograph is of the Princess's main pool (there are five as I recall) and where we spent most of our time. This pool was the first of its type with the artificial waterfall, waterslide, and grotto swim-up bar. It was copied in resorts all over the world. This was the first swim-up bar I had ever seen. You'd wade or swim through the waterfall into a little grotto where File (pronounced fe-LAY), the bartender, was whipping up Coco-Locos in fresh coconut shells with the husk still on and decorated with colorful tropical flowers. They actually had seven shots of rum and tequila in them but they tasted like a coconut milk shake. The frozen drink would stay icy in the coconut shell for an hour or better, not that ours ever lasted for an hour. The truly great thing about a swim-up bar is that even if you get totally blown away and fall off your barstool, you just kind of splash the people next to you. Or so I observed (now you believe that, don't you?).
We always tried to stay in the main tower, shaped like an Aztec pyramid, and facing West over Revolcadero Bay and the Pacific beyond. Many an evening we would have room service set up dinner on our balcony and we would dine while watching the magnificent sunsets over the Pacific. Ah, that's what life should be like all the time.
The middle two photos are of Bali, one of my very favorite places. The first one is of our private plunge pool on the patio of our private villa at the Four Seasons. You'll probably not be surprised to learn of the little deal I made with this really, really sunburned guy I met to get these little getaways, but that's another story altogether. (Paging Daniel Webster....)
The third photograph is again among my favorite pictures. This one is of Balinese farmers working in their terraced rice paddies. The last one is of Lynn Purcell at Purcell Castle in Ireland. That country is soooo green, it ought to be the national color or something (grin). You might have guessed, but when I stroll down memory lane, much like Mike Spradley, it's a heck of a hike.
The worst flight I have been on in my life was not on any commercial carrier (U.S. or foreign), but in a small private prop plane one of my attorneys had engaged to take us from Houston to Dallas to interview witnesses in a murder case (we were defending the corporate owner of a convenience store which had been sued by the parents of a girl who had been killed on the premises).
We took off from a small private airport just outside of Houston as the sun was rising, and had a wonderful, smooth flight to Love Field. After inspecting and photographing the store and its surroundings, we got the interviews out of the way and then had dinner that evening with our client, the insurance company which covered the store.
By the time we arrived back at Love, the weather had turned nasty ... stormy ... a typical March in Texas, with rain, wind, tornado warnings, etc. The pilot of the plane said we'd have to wait to see if the weather improved, and about three hours later said he was willing to make the return flight ... despite the fact that there was still lightning all around.
Nevertheless, I climbed stoically into the back seat of the little plane, fastened my seat belt and got ready for a "bumpy night" (with a nod to Bette Davis). Well, it was worse than I could have imagined. About halfway between Dallas and Houston, the full fury of the violent spring storm struck ... wind was rocking the plane, bolts of lightning were flashing all around us like strobes, rain was lashing the windows and the sides of the plane ... and I was sitting in the back, teeth clenched and contemplating what I might be in my next life. It continued like that the rest of the way back to the Houston suburb, where we landed around 4:00 a.m.
As the plane was taxiing to the hangar, my attorney called my name softly, as if hesitant to disturb me ... and when I answered immediately, he expressed surprise, saying "Gee, you were so quiet back there! I thought you were asleep." My indignant answer: "What the hell did you expect me to say? 'Let me out, I'd rather walk'?"
Obviously what I should have said back at Love ... but hindsight, you know....
)O(
Nicki----loved your family vacation story. It seems we've opened an unending vein here---loved Yahn's Galveston story and Garner Park (our territory) and Jennifer's train/Denver, etc. All stories brought to mind other early travels.
My grandfather took us (4kids, Mom, Grandmother) to Taos many times in the late 40's, early 50's, again all of us in a huge old boat of a car. I don't remember how much of the roadway was paved----probably not much. We also packed lunches for the trip, stopping at a school playground in Springer, NM to eat. After eating we would play on the swings and merry-go-round until at least 2 of us were throwing up.
I was most facinated by the art galleries in Taos. I was drawn to the abstract---thrilled to learn that that was acceptable art!-----made a most lasting impression.
Jennifer reminded me of the wonderful train adventures. I, too, traveled alone by train to Dallas on several occasions, probably in 5th grade. I loved it----felt so worldly.
Jennifer---I'll get to the ice cream later.
The stories of eating on the road bring back so many memories for me, too. Every time we went to Colorado, Mother would pack a lunch of fried chicken, deviled eggs, bread, cookies, and cold drinks (bottles of course) as well as other goodies. We always stopped at a certain tree outside of Santa Fe to eat. We all loved it. I have actually thought of doing that with my family, but somehow I don't think they would appreciate as we did.
Jennifer,
Your "bumpy" airplane story is a classic! I am actually getting nauseated thinking about it. Your comeback was perfect.
Jenn, Your choice sounds perfect. I'm not familiar with the area. Is it in north Dallas? We'll talk more later. I'll be riding my scoot back to California on the 3rd. Talk with you later.
Clara, I am waiting (more or less patiently) to hear about the vanilla ice cream ... although something comes to mind about curiosity and cats.... I must say you are no slouch in the "playing this out for dramatic effect" department....
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Nicki, "road food" has always been one of the joys (or in some cases, the sorrows) of travel by car. I remember that I got the first "Slim Jim" I ever saw (or consumed) at a little wide spot in the road just outside Raton, and thereafter I always wanted to stop there, until they became generally available.
Whenever we planned a few days in Colorado Springs, we always stayed at the Broadmoor (where my uncle TO worked for many years, and my Dad worked for a few), where I had my first "Shirley Temple." We also looked forward to a place in CS called the "Red Top" which had absolutely HUGE hamburgers ... and then there was Michele's just off Acacia Park in the Springs that had wonderful, exotic ice cream treats ... huge concoctions that it took three people to consume.
Loved going up into Manitou Springs to watch the Indian dances and see the Cave of the Winds, as well as making the trek up Pike's Peak, either by car or cog railroad. And we always looked forward to climbing up to the top of Seven Falls. Royal Gorge, to the south of CS was fabulous, although it took a leap of faith to ride across that high bridge (which swayed scarily in the wind) in a car ... and walking across wasn't much easier....
As a golfer, Jim should know all about the beautiful Broadmoor course and its setting at the foot of Cheyenne Mountain ... and I always loved their pool.
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Phil, the Pappadeaux's I've picked is in northwest Dallas, more or less equidistant from all of us who will be coming from different directions. I sent you and Nicki and link to the Pappadeaux's menu so you can be anticipating. I promise you will love it!!! As I think I've said, it's one of our favorite places!
This is going to be soooo much fun!!
)O(
Everyone may have guessed that I have opinions on just about everything. Jennifer says that it's part of my charm and we know she never exaggerates. Jennifer and Nicki have been talking about "road food" and I got to thinking about one of my favorite road food places. In the olden days (yesterday to those of us of a certain age) when you drove through Waco, there was a traffic circle you had to live through. Right there on the loop was a dinner called the "Elite" but their revolving neon sign said "Elite Eat Here". In spite of that name it was really good. After the traffic circle was bypassed, we'd still get off the Interstate just to get their chicken fried steak.
There's another great diner just off I-45 in Madisonville. We always tried to stop there also. Meatloaf, fried chicken, fried catfish, and, of course, chicken fried steak as well as other equally dietetic specials were absolutely wonderful. I once looked in their kitchen and I swear, every gray haired granny in town was working in that kitchen. It's very hard to remember that we are now the "gray haired grannies" and poppas. Life just isn't fair!
I don't think that I ever had Tex-Mex better than at El Mat (El Matamoros actually) just off I-35 in Austin. They had Guacamole that was perfect. Not runny, not dry, not too much onion or garlic... just perfect.
It wasn't road food but when I was a kid there was only one "good" seafood restaurant in Dallas, Jay's Marine Grill. There were long lines just to get in. I can remember looking at their extensive seashell collection displayed in glass cases in the lobby while waiting for a table. So you see some things are better than in the "good old days". There's a lot more good food around today. Maybe that's why we're all getting SOOOO skinny.
Good food, good company, and enough time, now that's about as good as it gets in my book. I'm looking forward to the get-together.
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