Victoria and Seattle

September 15, 2007 -- Victoria was too quick a trip for us. We arrived at 6pm, the sun went down two hours later, and we sailed out at 11pm. Diane and I got off the ship as soon as they allowed it, and we took a shuttle into downtown. She really wanted to visit the Butchart Gardens, but at $65 per person, I thought it was too expensive for seeing flowers. We later heard of another tour service that charged only $40, but by then, it was rather late.
So we visited the Empress Hotel - a sumptuous old structure in the grand European style. It was filled with English antiques, Spode dishware, mahogany woodworking, Indian tapestries, historic photos of the hotel in the 1930s, and many other elements of refined living. The exterior was old brownstone covered with ivy, and the gardens were lush and well cared for. It was all quite lovely.
As we walked along the small craft harbor, we snapped photos of the hotel reflected in the water and studied the Parliament buildings, which were constructed to honor Queen Victoria's jubilee. Later that night, they were lit up like a big wedding cake, as they have been for 100 years.
As evening fell, we walked up Government Street, poking into one shop or another - looking at handmade soaps, fine bags, cheap t-shirts, luggage, and other goods. Street musicians played to the delight of passing crowds, and everything seemed very safe and clean. Canadians, by and large, were very polite, and the streets were free of graffiti and litter.
By 9pm, we were quite tired from three hours of walking, so we caught the bus back to the ship. The Vista Restaurant had already closed, so we had a quick bite at the buffet. It was our last official meal on the ship, and you could sense the low-key feelings from all the guests. Tomorrow would send us back to reality.
Saturday morning came too quickly, as we finished our last-minute packing and had a quick breakfast of fruit and coffee. We were off the ship by 10am, saying our last good-byes to the stewards and others who had become our temporary friends during the trip.
My college friend Margie Coles picked us up at the terminal and recommended a quick run through Pike Place Market. Talk about mind-boggling! It was a long stretch of stalls packed with all manner of local goods - giant peaches, exotic vegetables, juicy berries, aromatic mushrooms, two-pound lobster tails, whale-sized salmon, spiced teas, handmade sausages, local arts and crafts, organic honeys, huge colorful bouquets, and much more. We pushed our way through the crowds doing their weekend shopping, as well as tourists snapping photos and gawking at the sheer variety of goods.
Along the streets, there were life-size pig sculptures, each designed by an artist and intended for a fundraising auction. Celebrating the market's 100th year, the pigs were done up in Piccaso-style paints, or covered with pennies, or dressed like Carmen Miranda, or wearing baby clothes, or looking like mermaids. It was all very clever.
Taking us up to her home on Queen Anne Hill, Margie gave us a running commentary about the neighborhood history before we met her husband Neal. What a great guy... someone who obviously loves Margie and is quite settled, bright, and funny. He's a real keeper.
After conversation over cheese and crackers, we drove over to see a fantastic view of the city from one of the local parks. A couple of bridal families were there for photos - a Seattle tradition, with the Space Needle and the city skyline in the background. We couldn't believe how young the newlyweds looked. But at our age, everyone looks too young to be married!
Then it was off to the airport, where there were hugs all around and sad good-byes. Diane and I had a pre-flight lunch and then our vacation was over. "I love you," we said, parting at the foot of the C and D terminals. She went one way, and I went another.
My next trip? Spending Thanksgiving with her daughter and family...

Victoria BC -- Where everyone says "Eh?"

September 14, 2007 – Today was a full day at sea as we head down the western coast of Canada to make it to Victoria by 6pm. That’s our last stop before we end up in Seattle first thing in the morning. We were unable to meet up with our friend Robin Bruins because she is in Tucson for a few days. However, we did connect with my former college housemate, Margie Coles. She plans to meet with us in the morning and show a few sights before we have to leave for the airport around 3.

We are having a hard time thinking about returning to work on Monday. It’s been so far from our thoughts this week, though it will be nice to get back to normal eating habits. We’ve been dining on more stuff than usual – full lunches and dinners, plus desserts. Typically, both Diane and I stick with a daily allotment of about 1500 calories, though we’ve gone far, far beyond that on the trip, where there are no Lean Cuisines or non-fat yogurts. But we’ll be back to those quickly enough – and to the gym. We did do a “walk for the cure” today, which the cruise line organized. It was a 5K walk for breast cancer, with each of us making a cash contribution for the privilege of walking nine times around the Promenade deck. I made it only five times before I got shin splints, but Diane managed to finish the entire walk. (Last year, this ship alone raised $50,000 of the cruise line’s total donation of about $500,000.) Tonight we’ll be walking around Victoria, adding more mileage to our shoes.

We are already packed up, with only our clothing for tonight and tomorrow left out. We’ll be off the ship around 8 or 9, back on solid ground and into reality. There will be no more room stewards to put out fresh towels, to make our beds, or even fold the toilet paper onto little pointy ends. I wonder if I can take any of these guys home with me…

So far, Ketchikan has been our favorite town, not only because the people are so friendly, but because the economic developers care enough about the tourist trade that they’ve created a district that’s inviting, clean, and friendly. It’s the polar (pun intended) opposite of Juneau. When we landed, the first thing we saw was a school bus storage lot. The shuttle buses were $2 for a one-mile ride into town, which we could have walked, except it was raining. The port area was littered with cheap little shacks staffed by people selling tours. The stores looked old, and the few restaurants were really bars that smelled of old alcohol and cigarettes. We stopped at a coffee shop offering free internet service, but when we ordered our drinks and sat down, we learned that the service wasn’t available that day. But we could get some for a dollar a minute across the street. No thanks.

Lunch was at a Mexican restaurant – the only place we could find – recommended by a man standing on the sidewalk in front. “It’s really good,” he said. “My wife had a whole plate of nachos, and it was so big that she couldn’t finish it all.”

Well, never visit a restaurant when the only recommendation is that the portions are large. I had a taco and an enchilada, and both were cooked in old grease. They sat hard in my stomach.

In fairness, I did like the people at Temsco helicopter service, even though our flight to the Mendenhall Glacier was cancelled because of weather. They were friendly, chatty, outgoing, and helpful. It seemed that they really appreciated people’s business. Our bus drivers were enjoyable to talk with, too. But the port area left a lot to be desired.

Sitka was terrific, especially considering its small size and remote location. Here, too, the people were friendly, especially at the information center, which was set up right by the water. The local arts and crafts displays were very basic, but the goods were great quality. Both Diane and I bought some handspun and dyed knitting yarns made by a local woman who explained how she created each color combination – from watching a stormy sky, to sitting on a boat in the middle of a kelp bed, to researching the clothing colors worn by the Russian settlers. Everything had a story. Sitka is not a wealthy town, but we liked the people and the history and the fact that there was a lot of pride even if there wasn’t much money.

I'll be posting a lot of photos as soon as I can wade through them. More later...

Ketchikan - "The Sound of Thundering Eagle Wings"

September 14 – From Donna: Thursday we awoke at 6:30am and found the seaport of Ketchikan ("The Sound of Thundering Eagle Wings") right outside our balcony… literally. It was still dark, but the streets were lit up, a few cars were making their way here and there, and sleepy dock workers were ambling toward our ship to help pull it up against the pier. It was almost a parallel parking job, as we first lined up with the pier and then moved in sideways while a few men grabbed various lines and tied us into place. Pretty soon, the gangway was dropped, and everyone started lining up to depart the ship for a quick few hours in town.

We were very impressed with Ketchikan – perhaps more so than with any of the other towns. The port area is newly rebuilt, with many buildings standing in piers right over the water. Because the mountains come right down almost to the water, the people here decided to make their own flat ground by constructing almost their entire tourist district right over the sea.

The structures were new, clean, brightly painted, and all decked out like a Maine fishing village. Assorted boats bobbed in a marina and the sun came up bright and warm, turning it into a perfect morning. “You must have brought the good weather with you,” one shop owner said to us. “Normally we have rainy Septembers. You’re very lucky.”

We walked around, up one street and down the other, enjoying the array of local crafts and art, though we sneered at the interminable collection of jewelry shops. It seems that every port town is set up to lure in shoppers to buy diamonds, tanzanite, jade, emeralds, gold, watches, and other expensive goods. A local explained that most of them are owned by the cruise lines. “If they don’t get you to buy on board, then they get you to buy on shore,” he said.

Diane and I agreed that it was better to spend money in shops owned by the locals and to buy their handmade goods. After all, if we’re visiting their towns, we should contribute to their livelihood.

We stopped in one taxidermy shop where the proprietor was grizzled and friendly, but he appeared to have been quite handsome in his youth. Behind his counter, he had some artwork done by his grandkids. “My own kids don’t like me,” he said, “but the grandkids think I’m wonderful. My wife and I really like being grandparents.”

His shop was jammed with all kinds of leather, furs and skins – all beautiful pieces made into coats, collars, gloves, shawls, jackets, hats, scarves and anything else to ward off an Alaska winter. He also had collections of animal skulls – wolves, tortoises, beavers, wolverines, coyotes, and other animals found in the woods. “You need fur to stay warm here,” he said. “I don’t understand those places where they don’t like you to wear fur. Up here, they think you’re nuts if you don’t use it.”

In another shop, the owner sold beautiful arts and crafts made by local people. I picked up a pretty piece made from weathered beach glass and armature wire. “These are made by two sisters earning their way through dental school,” the woman said. “Their parents said that if they wanted to get eight years of college, they’d better start wrapping glass and selling it. Both of them are great kids. One of them is Alaska’s Junior Miss.”

She had another story for Diane, who picked out some brushes made from animal fur. “These are made by identical twin brothers,” the woman said. “They’re potters by trade, but they make their own glazing brushes. After a while, they started selling the brushes because people liked them so much.”

That’s the reason I prefer spending money on local stuff. The things in a jewelry store can be found anywhere. But you can help two girls in dental school only by picking up their handmade art.

We hadn’t seen much in the way of exotic wildlife, so we asked the shop owner in Ketchikan where we could see some eagles. “Oh, those are as common as pigeons around here. Just walk up the creek a bit, and you should see some feeding on the fish.”

So we headed in the direction she pointed us, arriving at a short bridge spanning the creek. It was incredible to see the water alive with fish leaping here and there. The creek was teeming with salmon, all crowded together, aiming in the same direction – upstream. Moving only a few inches at a time, they swam against the current to reach their spawning grounds, where they would lay and fertilize eggs before dying off. Three years ago, these same fish had hatched and moved down toward the sea, where they matured and grew into adulthood. Now they were returning to the place where they were born, ensuring that there would be a next generation to do the same thing.

We followed up the creek along a wooden sidewalk elevated on the steep banks. It was lined on both sides with old wooden buildings transformed for commercial use – mostly shops and museums. The most notable was Dolly’s House, a former bordello once owned by a young woman who earned her living by pleasing the old gold prospectors from a century ago. Her place was not illegal, as any place with only one or two women living together was not considered a bordello. So many houses of prostitution were set up by these solitary ladies. Dolly herself ran away from home at an early age to escape abuse. At 18, she figured out that she could make a better living in prostitution than by waiting tables. Her home proved to be one of the most popular in town.

Our stay in Ketchikan was too short. We had to return to the ship by noon, giving us only four hours in town - a huge disappointment because there was so much more to see. We envied the passengers on the other ships, who got to spend all day. As consolation, we hoped to see some bears along the shoreline as we left town, but alas, we saw no bears, just as we’d seen no eagles. However, a few hours later, a passing whale put on a great display of raising its tail above the water and splashing his way through the sea.

Sitka All Day...

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September 12, 2007 - From Donna: Sitka was a delight. We arrived to a foggy morning, putting a somber cloak of gray on the islands dotting the bay. Because the dock is not very deep, our ship had to anchor about a half-mile away, and we were transported by small boats over to the pier. Our cold-weather clothes helped prepare us for a long day of chilly temperatures. However, within an hour, the sun broke through and painted everything with a brilliant light. We grew warm enough to shed our jackets and even wished that we’d worn t-shirts instead of our pullovers.

The colors are so clear here, with a sapphire sky, lapis water, and emerald lawns. We could not believe that grass could be so thick, so lush, or so green. Apparently, drought isn’t a problem here!

The people were friendly and kind-spirited – well, except for the young woman at the coffee house, who was a little surly. I’d guess she isn’t a morning person. We picked out a few things at the gift shops (ka-ching), took some photos of totem poles (used only by northwest Indians, not those all over the US, by the way), viewed a few attractions like the Russian bishop’s house (used when Russia owned Alaska), stopped by a couple of cultural sites, and visited the library for some free Internet time. I also found out why I’ve been having such a terrible time downloading my email. Someone sent me a 24MB file filled with photos – and it wasn’t even anyone I knew. I had to get Yahoo to delete it for me so I could get my Outlook working again.

Lunchtime was late for us – around 3pm – when we stopped at a diner for sandwiches. The place was jammed with cruise ship passengers, so the waitresses were almost wearing roller skates. We couldn’t decide between the Reuben sandwich and the reindeer sausage sandwich, so we ordered one of each and split them. The deer was surprisingly good, more like a Polish than an Italian sausage, with a mild flavor. Our waitress looked definitely Eskimo or Aleut or something similar, with a broad face and black hair pulled into two braids. But practically everyone here seems to be some kind of aboriginal descendant – or some wanderer who wanted to get away from civilization.

Back on board the ship, we found an invitation from the Captain to have cocktails at a private party with him and the other officers. What fun! So we jumped out of our jeans and into our dressy wear and mingled with the folks who were spending a lot more money than we are. But when you’re part of the media, you always get special treatment. We have been fawned over and treated well almost since we arrived.

Tonight at dinner, our waiters hovered like helicopters to ensure that we were happy with our meals. (Diane had prawns Provincale while I had roasted Muscovy duck breast.) One of them reminded us that tomorrow’s formal dinner will be the last one where he will see us. “I know what you’re trying to say,” I teased. “You’re letting us know that next week you’ll be flirting with two other ladies!”

We had one pretty exciting event today. While we slipped out of Sitka’s harbor, we spotted a couple of whales. They spouted several times, and one even flipped his tail above the water. All of us passengers lining the railings let out a round of applause and many “bravos”.

Tomorrow, we hit Ketchikan, but only for a few hours. By noon, we’re due back on the ship again. Otherwise, they leave without us.

We Visit the Ice Age

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September 11, 2007 - From Donna: Here we are, in our room, rocking out to the rhythm of the waves. Diane has taken a couple of meclazine so she doesn’t get seasick tonight. If we’re dining at the elite Pinnacle Grill, then we want her in the best of health.

The glaciers today were simply stunning. At first, we approached what we thought was the Hubbard Glacier, but the National Parks Service people on board said no, that was the Turner Glacier, not as impressive as the one at our destination about 30 minutes ahead. We couldn’t imagine anything looking better than this – a massive wall if ice shedding chunks that floated all around us. Some were striated, with stripes of sediment alternating with white or gray layers of ice. Others were just black from rock and dirt. Still others were white – pure snow and ice.

Eventually we chugged through a narrow opening into a bay, where monstrous sheets of ice were coming down from saw-tooth mountain tops, flowing ever so slowly into the tidal water. We stopped our engines close to the glacier edge and watched as “calves” of ice fell from the face of the glacier and landed with a huge splash into the frigid water. The air was filled with the familiar crack-and-roll of thunder – but it wasn’t thunder at all. It was the sound of ice moving down the valleys toward the Bay of Alaska. It boomed and ricocheted again and again even while we could see no actual movement except for the occasional chunk of ice floe coming off the forward wall. Huge rafts of ice floated around us, embedded with thousands of years’ worth of mud and rock, pulled down from the mountain tops and finally ending up in the sea, where it would melt and flow away to some other part of the world.

Although we’d spent more than an hour watching nature’s spectacle, we were disappointed to turn and sail out of the bay again, past a long chain of mountains cloaked entirely in ice and snow. The colors are difficult to describe – water that’s alternately blue, then khaki, then olive, then gray, then brown with silt. Above it, the mountains are either a shade of green that almost becomes black, or they’re white and ice blue, almost pastel in delicacy while displaying a harshness of frigid temperatures and unlivable slopes.

The Hubbard Glacier itself is more than 70 miles long, its long finger stretching down from the mountains as a frozen river. The face is only about six miles wide, moving a fraction of an inch at a time. Even so, this massive wonder has retreated several miles from where it once reached. We were sailing on a bay that used to be solid ice only 200 years ago. It’s funny because I remember being in fourth grade and seeing a photo in my geography book of a Canadian Mountie standing at the edge of a glacier. It was fascinating to me because, at the time, I’d thought glaciers were extinct – that they were a phenomenon limited only to the Ice Age. And now, here we are, witnessing them in person.

We have taken many, many photos, but have not been able to post them because it’s such a huge expense to access the Internet while on board. So I’ve had to limit my time to uploading text only, while saving the photos for later. I’ve also tried to download my email, but that, too, is a challenge because I have been receiving large files that take up a lot of download time. Even going directly to Yahoo has been impossible because I can’t seem to get access that way. In any case, the photos will come later. For now, it’s just a quick hop on and offline so I can at least get these posts uploaded.

Okay, more later. We pull into Sitka in the morning, which means more souvenir hunting. Maybe I’ll find a free Internet connection somewhere.

Galley Tour and More

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September 11, 2007 - From Donna: What an incredible day it’s been. First we got a personalized tour of the galley and the storage facilities, thanks to Jonathan, the personable and bright-spirited junior officer. And then we sailed past the Turner Glacier and on into the bay to stop for a couple of hours at the Hubbard Glacier. I have never seen anything like this in my life. What a terrific opportunity this has been, even for two women who grew up in the middle of Snow Country. But more on that later.

Our galley tour started with an interview of the Food & Beverage Officer and the Executive Chef. Both were businesslike and even a bit reserved, but we had an interesting conversation with them both. Bert was born and raised in Holland, where his parents were in the hotel industry, as had been his grandparents. In fact, he said his grandfather had an illegal bar, he was always getting arrested, and his grandmother had to pay the equivalent of fifty cents to bail him out each time.

Eventually, Bert left for other places, and now he makes South Africa his full-time home, where he has an olive orchard. He invited us down to visit, but Diane said only if we can fly because she isn’t spending weeks on a ship.

We were turned over to Jonathan, a personable Brit who took us into the nooks of the galley, which was impressively spotless and organized. He kept disagreeing, though, saying that they were in the middle of food preparation, so it wasn’t as clean as it could be. However, I could find nothing to complain about – there was no food lying about, scraps were cleaned up, dishes were out of sight, floors were free of grime and spills, and there wasn’t even the hint of old grease, like you find in many restaurant kitchens. Everything was organized like clockwork – particular stations for beef, chicken, fish, salads, desserts and more. “That’s so the waiters will know exactly where to come to pick up each dish,” Jonathan said. “With so many people to feed, you have to be completely efficient and cut down any confusion.”

The crew were very animated and lively, posing enthusiastically whenever Diane raised the camera. And we met several of the officers who typically remain out of sight, including a friendly Russian, a cheery Scot, several Dutch, and many others. We finished the tour with a glimpse at The Pinnacle Grill, a restaurant that Diane and I had not seen before. It was furnished with pewter chairs, dishes that cost $200 each (designed and made by Bulgari, the jewelry makers), and crystal glasses. Obviously, this was the place where the elite meet. It costs extra - $30 per person – but we decided the price was worth it just to see how the other half lives.

Later, as we sat at lunch, one of the restaurant officers came up and introduced himself, saying we were having dinner at The Pinnacle as his guests. We were thrilled, of course, and he even took our reservations right there. So tonight we’re going to dress up again just to make up for the night when Diane got sick. Then afterwards, we’re going to our rooms to change into jeans for the Western line dancing classes in the disco.

More later, when I’ll describe the glaciers.

Day Three

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September 10, 2007 - From Donna: We got all dressed up last night for the Captain’s Dinner – the dressy party where everyone wears tuxes and gowns. I had on my black velvet gown, and Diane had her long black skirt and sequined tank. We looked delicious. But the ship had been rocking much of the day because we were on the open sea, and she was getting dizzy. It didn’t look good for her, but she put on a brave front and we went down to the dining room. On the way, we passed the ship photographer who was taking pictures of the passengers in their finery. Two gentlemen were by themselves, so I said, “Let’s grab these guys as temporary dates.” They looked surprised, put their arms around us, and said, “Oh, Rent a Date! We like that!” So we had our photos taken with them and then we continued on to the dining room.

Diane put up a brave front, but she could not eat a thing. She was so dizzy that she could barely sit there. After a few bites of salad, she went back up to our room. The maitre d’ was concerned and asked me why she left. I explained that she was sick from the movement, and he said it was a good thing we hadn’t been on last week’s cruise. Even some of the crew were sick.

Our waiter came by and asked how Diane was doing. “Is she your – uh – sister?” he asked. I said no, she was a friend. He paused and said, “Is she – uh – just a friend?” I considered the various ways he could mean that, and I said yes, she was just a friend. After a second, he said, “So. Do you have – uh – children?” I almost laughed. Yes, she has two kids and three grandkids, and so do I. I’m not sure what he was thinking.

After dinner, I returned to our room to check on Diane, but she was sound asleep, thanks to the two seasickness pills. So I went back down to the cabaret and watched part of the show, went off to the gift shop, and wandered around a little. Then I did something really exciting – I returned to the room, got into bed and started reading my American history textbook.

Around 1am, Diane woke up and we chatted until 2. She was feeling better, so we went to sleep and woke up around 7am. Finally we were on smooth water again, gliding toward Juneau. The weather had turned drizzly, foggy and chilly, but the mountains of coastal Alaska were impressively high and rugged, with thin waterfalls tumbling all the way down to the ocean – thin white pencil lines etched into the darkly green forest. Trees grow thick here, and it looks as if the land is harsh. The climate is hard on buildings, which have a weather-beaten look even though they’re generally well kept, with property owners staying one step ahead of the next rainstorm or blizzard.

Thick jagged clouds hugged the mountain tops and dipped into the valleys, almost dropping down to touch the water. Everything was washed in the grayness of a rainy day. Even the inky green mountain sides were lightened with a curtain of gray mist. Small fishing boats and tugboats steamed by as we maneuvered into place, along with two other cruise ships – the Golden Princess and the Holland America Zuiderdam.

As we disembarked for the shuttle to take us into town – only about a mile away – a light drizzle began to fall, but everyone was in high spirits. Juneau’s waterfront was peppered with shops designed to lure in tourists – signs everywhere promised great deals on diamonds, tanzanite, Alaska t-shirts, gold nuggets, Native American goods, and all manner of mugs, key chains, postcards, and other goodies targeting people who came in to drop some hard cash along a two- or three-block stretch and then return to the ship, never getting a glimpse of real life here.

Diane and I joined the throngs piling into a souvenir shop offering half off everything in stock, as it is now the end of tourist season. In two weeks, these shops will close up until the spring, when tourist hunting season is open again. “You have to stay really busy here in the winter, or else you can go nuts,” one young man told us, explaining that he held three jobs and was going to school.

At 2pm, we met up with the shuttle that would take us to the helicopter port so we could fly up to the Mendenhall Glacier, land on the surface, and fly back. The people at the heliport kept talking about how much we’d love the trip, building our excitement. This was the one thing that Diane really wanted to do while we were in Alaska – walk on the glacier. But in a flash, the flight was cancelled. A rain squall had come in, making landing too dangerous. All pilots were grounded. Although it meant that we got our $225 (each) refunded, we still were disappointed.

Instead, we took a bus out to see the glacier from a distance, standing in the rain just to take a few photos and then dash back to catch the next shuttle in to town. The glacier was quite spectacular, even from across Mendenhall Lake, which was littered with ice floes that glowed an eerie blue. The glacier itself was in retreat, melting back several miles from where it had been even 30 or 40 years ago. All across its face, you could see tracings of silt deposited over time – thousands of years. Now global warming is slowly forcing the ice to melt, with the water coming down the mountains in rapid cataracts that tumble and flow at full force even in drier months.

Tonight we sail out of Juneau and pass by the Hubbard Glacier fields tomorrow. I hope we can see some calving, as the glacier breaks loose with icebergs. We also have a couple of interview appointments for my food articles – one with the galley manager, another with the hotel manager, etc. We also get a private tour of the galley and the food operations so they can tell us how exactly the crew can keep more than 2000 people fed and happy for seven days at a time. Everywhere we turn, there is an opportunity to eat, whether it’s a taco bar by the pool, a burger place near the shuffleboard, a sandwich bar on the Lido Deck, a restaurant lunch in the Vista Dining Room, a meal taken in your room and delivered by a smiling Indonesian man, a build-it-yourself ice cream station, or a midnight buffet of light snacks before bed. The eating is non-stop for most people, and I want to know how the cruise line manages to keep the masses fed while controlling costs, avoiding waste, and never running out of anything.

Tonight we’re just having salad in the dining room, as we had a Mexican meal around 4 in Juneau. It was the only place that looked like it served regular food. Everything else was a souvenir shop or a stale-smelling bar. Even at that, the taco I had was quite greasy, and the chicken filling was so finely shredded that I suspected it was made up of scraps.

But that’s the nature of the touristy parts of town – get them in, get them to spend their dough, and send them on their way. Meanwhile, you miss the real heart of the place.

Do I sound cynical? No, I’m just realistic. I live in a tourist town, so I know how it is. It’s like going to Las Vegas, seeing only the Strip, and never getting a taste of the real city.

Okay, time to clean up for dinner. I’d better wake Diane. She’s already conked out.