3:45 AM - Called in and Exhausted

Juliet was on call last night and at 3:30am the pager went berserk! Of course when my lovely wife is called in the middle of the night to report to the hospital I always get up and drive her there. I figure if she has to suffer why should I continue to sleep.

Now she is home and we are both exhausted and have a hike today with our new blog friend Terrified Tastebud at 14:00. This means I need some sleep and NOW!

I will leave you all this Saturday with some images that have been looking for a home. I hope you enjoy and Happy Saturday!

Why I Travel - Or how I almost became a Mexican DJ Part 4

I cannot even remember her name.

I know that the donde boys and I strolled into the Disco Scaramouche that night along with some stragglers and the other kids my age on the trip, who I am certain turned out to be teetotalers, to find the place was busy but not jammed like my father's experience in the past.

Los dondes and I grabbed a table near the dance floor and within moments I was drawing deep straw-fulls of pina colada. Keep in mind I was 17 so the more sugar the better in my drinks to ward off the brutality of cheap well rum. I remember we were all laughing that my dad seemed to puss out and then, like the moment a boy realizes that Jergens is not just for soft skin anymore, I saw her.

Sleeveless white cotton dress, curly blonde hair, somewhere between Baby from Dirty Dancing and Kathleen Turner from Romancing the Stone was a marvelous young woman cutting a rug on the dance floor. She was dancing alone but had what appeared to be a disco employee dressed all in white shadowing her. He was older than I was and at the same time I looked right through him on each turn of the music to see the face of this beautiful girl.

I was a total fool at home when it came to girls. The station of my nerdy-ness and the years of stereotyping that go along with being with the same kids for 12 years had blocked my access to the real teenage wasteland so I often felt myself to be ugly or for some reason unworthy for courtship. I came to find out I simply needed some shitty rum, a little anonymity, and a major push from a fireman and a phone technician (the donde boys).

As I downed my 3rd pina colada I decided it was time. My gut was swimming and all that sugar and booze gave me energy I am sure was on par with at least medium grade meth. I rose from my seat in my light blue Don Johnson trousers I had gotten from Mervyn's onsale. I took a deep breath and straightened my back to reveal my strikingly lanky 6'5" 160 pound frame while my flowing black and white print shirt gave the impression I was hoisting the main sail on a human ship's mast.

I strode out to the floor as my eyes met hers. At this point I had 0 choice but to engage. I tapped the disco boy on the shoulder and straight out of a scene from Happy Days I said, "may I cut in?" I swear upon the graves of my ancestors that was what I said.

The only part more shocking than my dialog was the fact that disco boy took one look at my ghost-like complexion, looked back at the tanned and nubile girl to his left, and simply walked away.

There I was on the floor alone with a girl and we immediately spoke, or tried to speak over the sounds of bad 80s music. Instead of talking we decided to dance. Much like Napoleon Dynamite I may have been an angst ridden, nerdy kid, with a propensity for tall tales, but get me on the floor and I could move. In a matter of seconds I was spinning my girl about like a whirling dervish. I was like a giant rubber band in the day which made for an interesting site I am certain.

While I had excellent rhythm and unique moves. My sheer height and gaunt physique made me a spectacle of curiosity. Wow, that guy is really goofy, but he is kind of good I imagined most people to think. On this night though I was Denny fucking Terrio. I owned the Scaramouche!

I noticed after what seemed like 2 minutes but was more like 45 that the donde boys were gone and it was just me alone with a creature I had no idea how to entertain. It was hot and we were both pouring sweat as the music slowed a bit.

We decided to walk outside and sit on the steps and we must have taken a seat at  or very near the precise area of the steps where my father had been accosted by henchmen just a few years prior. All I knew at the time was that I could have been sitting on the stairway to hell and I would not have cared because I was so much closer to heaven than I had ever been before.

To this day I remember every feeling I had being alone with this girl on the empty steps of a Mexican Disco. I cannot remember a word we said, only that she was from Tyler, TX and as we stared at one another we said some silly things about humidity and Texas before our lips met in a salty perspiration soaked kiss.

The Scaramouche became Shangri-La and although I had never kissed anyone before that moment, I had practiced on my arms, in my mirror, and with my pillow so that when the occasion arose I would be less than a fumbling, nascent, tongue-heavy moron. I think that kiss was the first thing in my life that had ever exceeded one of my lofty expectations. In that fleeting moment I was convinced that coming to Mexico made me the lover I always knew I was. I was never going to go home I thought as we walked across the street to the deserted Plaza....to be continued

Pasquale the Market Man of Monopoli and Other Wednesday Whims

This is the man who inspired my Patron of Caffe' Roma story.

I want to just talk a little this morning with my readers and my images. I feel like there is some magic to be uncovered today as I ponder traveling.

http://vimeo.com/38924239

Juliet in Paris

I like to also think about great wine today

I see art in unusual places and I try to capture it for you

What I see when I wake each day

Contemplative Travelers

Stay tuned for more Mexico stories and our upcoming Italy itinerary

TBA Wins The Versatile Blogger Award!

As some of you who have been reading a bit know, I am not much for the blog awards; or at least that is what I espoused. I am now changing my tune. I was too new to understand what this meant and way too self-focused to notice that I was ignoring the most important aspect of life as a blogger: community.

It is the community of creative and curious friends that has kept my streak of posts, laughs, comments, and vision for the future alive. It is this community of true kindred spirits that has influenced me to believe in my work and that I am not nearly as alone on the planet as I had believed. In fact, I may even go so far as to say I like people more than I did 3 months ago because of all of you.

I am not cynical, I am just funny. The humor may not always be so cheerful as an episode of the Smurfs or slapstick like the Three Stooges, and it is definitely much more akin to Larry David than Larry the Cable Guy; however, take me lightly and you will laugh all the way to the toilet. Seriously, I am actually so excited about this award that I am interrupting the telling of my Mexico story to fulfill the obligations of this blog.

Ahem...so now the funny part is over and here is the truth

Tania Jessica Smith - nominated me for this award. Tania is one of the most gifted photographers and visual artists on the web. I do not know her personally yet her work speaks volumes. I just saw her photo for the first time and she is incredibly young to be so accomplished. It is work like Tania's that makes me in awe of WordPress. Who the hell am I to shun any honor this woman would bestow upon me? Please check out her work, it is phenomenal.

Thank you Tania, you do indeed Rock!

7 Facts About - The Blissful Adventurer

I think people who believe in the death penalty should be shot (OK, that was a joke)

seriously....

1. I started cooking when I was 11 years old and at one point in time had a sideline business cooking wine dinners for clients and friends

2. From 2009-2011 I ate over 1000 meals in restaurants - I believe it is hard to discuss food and restaurants without being an expert on eating in them

3. When I was a child I created an entire make-believe world for my brother and I. We had country names, world maps, various regime types, races, accents/languages, socio-economic circumstances, and of course football teams, tennis players, and lots of wars. My home country was called BLUE LIGHTNING

4. I have a gluten sensitivity which has virtually forced me to abandon some of the foods that I hold dear which include and are not limited to the following: wheat pasta, pastries (too numerous to list), biscuits, gravy, gravy and biscuits, malt-o-meal, ice cream cones, rolls, sourdough, white bread, sourdough bread, cinnamon toast, cheese toast, garlic bread, hamburgers, hot dogs, and beer. If I eat gluten my stomach swells to twice its size and I am plagued by incessant farting deep in the night.

5. I have a genetic flaw in the enamel of my teeth and I require extensive restoration. My condition has now deteriorated and I must get this done in the next 2 years or I could lose my denti. My brother has already done this so he has a killer smile. I have not so people always assume I am always in a somber or contemplative mood. Few people know that I am always laughing on the inside or that I am not an imposing giant with a stoic half-grin. This has been the hardest thing I have ever had to accept about me (an otherwise dashing figure) and this is easily the first time I have ever admitted it publicly. The procedure is $50,000.00 that is a lot of travel and hence the reason why I have yet to commit. :-( One of the reasons I love to blog is that only the sweeter and more likable parts of me are visible and so everyone's first impression of me is not as intense as I come across in person.

6. I was married and divorced once before. I have no intentions of ever going down that path again, the divorced part :-)

7. I have every intention of turning my travels into a television product as well as writing for television and film in the coming years. I sold my company and changed my whole life to write and I will not accept any other path but success. Naysayers be damned I would rather die a pauper than return to doing anything I find to waste my precious time on this planet. So if anyone has any hopes that I will give up on this dream and return to the working class; just know I would sooner die.

Much live Adventurers!

People who deserve this and may have already been nominated, so, if so I am nominating you again category:

The Rules (should you choose to accept them)

• 1. Thank and link to the person who awarded you (you are allowed to be as gushing with this as takes your fancy!)

• 2. Share seven random facts about yourself.

• 3. Pass the award on to more blogging friends.

• 4. Contact those friends with the link and congratulate them!

• 5. Post your award with pride.

Mike's Look at Life - M5Son is one of the finest bloggers and funniest guys on the web. He knows no bounds to his self-deprecation, yet I know his genius is in the underestimation of this talented man. He may post amazing and thoughtful photos, yet his writing is something to behold. I would trust this guy with anything. He also has a very cool first and last name. I admire Mike and his look at life

This Little Light - Cara Olsen may have converted me back to my Christian roots with her wit, devotion, and resilience. She is one of the most gifted people on the web and she marries that with an exhaustive work ethic. I admit freely she is one of the best friends I have whom I have never met. I look forward to augmenting that status.

Italian Wine Geek - Joanie Karapetian makes me smile everyday. When I was her age I lived and breathed Italian wine with no outlet for my passion other than toiling away in a wine shop where Italian wines were second-class citizens. Joanie brings all the passion and knowledge to our community everyday. She is one of the best in the biz and easily one of the nicest.

The Culinarian Guild - The Passionate Culinarian is as straight forward as an F5 Tornado. This guy cooks and he knows why. He is one of the people I knew I liked in the first exchange because there was no need for flowery formality. TPC is also damned funny and so if intensity and honesty are your bag, he is a winner. I would not be surprised if he told me that this nomination was ridiculous because it had nothing to do with food :-)

She Kept a Parrot - Her name is George (not a typo) and she may be the single most insightful and supportive member of this community. I am 100% certain she has been nominated for this award a few times, yet I am doing it again. George is a  woman of letters and a heart of pure luster. I would have quit this long before now if she did not read and support my work while delivering photos and short observations that make Hemingway look like a drunk and Faulkner a verbose pedant. This woman is like Moses come down in disguise to lead all of us. She could call to Heaven at any point for an express ride to the top yet she chooses to love amongst us mortals so that we may experience a snippet of truth in our lives.

There are so many more of you who deserve this. These 5 are people I believe I know a bit and who know me. We are certainly connected in a way that WP could have never imagined was possible when they began this project.

I love being versatile :-)

Why I Travel - Or how I almost became a Mexican DJ Part 3

Travel has been in my blood for nearly 25 years and this is the account of how I became infected.

That night my father said we were going to dine at Pizza Rolandi. I had been hearing about this great pizza joint, in Mexico of all places, for years. I was starving all day after my flailing snorkeling experience and Pizza sounded perfect.

Bear in mind at this age I had never been anywhere, so when we entered the dimly candlelit outdoor patio with high walls it felt like we were in a cave of European royalty; some hidden part of a castle with classical music and nice linens. I was a bit nervous as I thought this was only going to be pizza. It was much more to me at the time, it was another in a series of great escapes on this amazing journey.

The donde boys did not make the journey to dinner on this night, or if they did I can only remember my father and I talking and watching all the people around us drink wine. Wine was such a mystery to me as I had been offered a few sips of Texas homemade wine back in my Bristol days and I found it disgusting. Yet, I was intrigued to see so many people laughing and enjoying the red stuff with their food I knew I was likely missing something. It would take me another 7 years for the light to come on with wine and now look at me :-)

Pizza Rolandi was far better than any description my Dad had given it and was such a beautiful change from our rustic hotel and the dingy dive boat. I was now someplace I could grasp and feel more alive. This feeling never fails to return when I love a restaurant. It is a simple and warm sensation of being welcomed and belonging. I rarely feel like I belong anywhere or with any people. On this night 24 years ago, I did.

After dinner we wandered back to the hotel where the donde boys were gearing up for a night out. At this point in the trip the once full coolers of beer the boys had brought, duct-taped shut as their checked luggage, were running very low. My dad asked me to go with the guys down to the store and help them bring back beer. On that walk the two guys asked if I was coming with them to the disco. I had no idea if I even had permission to go and said as much. The boys did not accept that answer and as soon as we got back to the hotel, arms sore as hell from carrying an inordinate mass of beer, the boys approached my dad about me coming to the disco in town; Scaramouche.

My dad was relaxed in the room and had changed from dinner clothes to shorts and sandals. It was clear my dad was not going to go and so the only chance of my getting out for the evening was sadly the donde boys. They swore they would keep an eye on me and seeing as one of the guys was about 6'2" and 275 pounds of brute strength and sheer force I guess my dad felt like we would be safe enough, and he relented to letting me go.

Of course the boys pleaded with my father to join us, but he was apprehensive and as reserved as I had ever seen him. It was clear he was not coming out to Scaramouche. I had assumed all these years that my father was a bit homesick and lonely for his wife which kept him in the room that night. I only recently discovered after a good bottle of wine one evening that my father was not welcomed at disco Scaramouche. 

A couple of years before this trip when my father was newly single he had been in the Scaramouche one night with BR. BR and my father in the day were like some cross between adventurous explorers like Cousteau and the Contras of Nicaragua. IT was OP shorts, sandals, Peter Tosh music, sailing, diving, and a virtual shit storm of alcohol-fueled trouble wherever they landed. On one particular night in Cozumel, the team at the Scaramouche experienced these exploits firsthand.

My Dad and BR were in the crowded disco late one night and alone without the rest of their dive friends. The club was completely jammed with well-dressed Mexicans and terribly casual tourists. There was not a decent table to be had except for a  sofa, long table, and several nice chairs just above the dance floor which were all empty. DRH (my father) and BR took it upon themselves to plop down on the sofa and enjoy an adult beverage. Immediately upon sitting the club officials came and nicely asked them to move as the area was reserved. BR told the club staff that it was cool and that he and DRH would stay only till the other party arrived. The staff member then implored them to choose another nice table and he would get it for them.

As it turns out, that area was reserved for the Governor of Quintana Roo - the state governing body of Cozumel. DRH and BR called bullshit on this bit of knowledge but nevertheless moved to an alternate table when a gentleman in a military jacket complete with gratuitous medals and epaulets along with his entourage and and obvious American couple arrived and took the seats.

BR did not like the cocky American and  plotted to engage the man as if he knew him from College so he could find out where he lived. At this point the whole scene sounded like a mid-season episode of Miami Vice only it was not Crockett and Tubbs, it was DRH and BR; scuba instructors from Garland, TX.

In moments after BR had lamely tried to pry info from the American DRH sensed it was time to go and quickly. As soon as they hit the door the henchmen in the Governor's entourage grabbed BR and DRH and questioned them mercilessly on the steps of the club. Once the thugs seemed satisfied that DRH and BR were non-threatening, and were just an annoyance they escorted my father and BR to their car and told them never to return. DRH and BR drove back to their hotel followed all the way by 2 black cars that only abandoned the tail when our heroes entered their hotel parking lot.

The following day, Carlos the boat captain told DRH and BR they had been very lucky as the governor of QR was one of the most notorious drug runners in all of Mexico. Carlos explained It would be wise for the men never to return to Scaramouche.

...to be continued