Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz: City by the Sea

(Outside my room in the chalet-like building in the midst of the giant redwood forests of the University of California at Santa Cruz)

Santa Cruz is a neat little city by the sea–by the Bay, really, MOnterrey Bay, at whose head it nestles quietly in the midst of soft fogs that swirls in at dawn and dusk each day.

A drive around the town revealed to me the interesting topography as well as the financial range of its inhabitants. Hugging the cliffs that dip steeply into the Pacific are expensive homes of varying design from Spanish-style haciendas and Santa Fe-style adobes to New England-style McMansions with all the bells and whistles. Sprucely landscaped gardens welcomed the visitors to these homes down neat paths to front doors that were splashed by salt spray. Ah, the privileges of the wealthy.

Most of the people of Santa Cruz, however, live in modest homes along the hillsides. All action begins and ends at the beach which, in the manner of most English seaside resorts, has a lengthy pier that juts far out into the water. The rewards of walking all the way to the very end of the pier is the bellowing and sighting of sea lions who haul themselves out on the wooden scaffolding of the pier to rest from their endless swimming. I realized why they are called ‘lions’ when I heard them roar. Turning their heads upwards, they let out these great belly-turning grunts for no reason at all, then calmly turn over and settle down. It must be a disquieting sound in the dead of night.

The pier is lined with shops selling cheap souvenirs, cotton candy, ice-cream and hotdogs—the predictable detritus of most American beach resorts. The water was not warm enough for a comfortable dip—which explains why most people were sunbathing and so few were actually in the water, though Santa Cruz is a popular surfing destination.

Its biggest attraction, however, apart from the boardwalk, is the amusement park on the edge of the sea where the country’s oldest roller coaster still gives bone-rattling rides to those who enjoy such thrills. The roller coaster is wooden and, though by today’s standards, its height is pretty unimpressive, I have long lost my appetite for such amusements. Those, like me, too chicken to brave the dips and climbs of a traditional roller coaster can opt for a much tamer ride that takes one along the periphery of the shore, the dangling baskets skimming under waves and sand at the same time.

For those with more sophisticated tastes, Santa Cruz does boast a few nice restaurants. We had dinner one night at Casablanca, a restaurant overlooking the seashore, where the entrée, a Salmon in a creamy citrus sauce was very delicious indeed and the dessert, a Chocolate Mousse Pie was absolutely scrumptious. On other evenings, I ate at O Mei, a Chinese restaurant with the most amazing selection of Asian fusion dishes, all of which were outstanding. Another evening found me at Avanti, an Italian restaurant that I found to be good if vastly over-priced. It is possible to eat out adventurously in Santa Cruz. For most other lovers of shopping, the venue is Pacific Avenue, a chic street with designer boutiques, museums and art galleries, selling everything from hip clothing and custom designed burgers to antiques and collectibles.

My biggest kick, however, came from exploring the Robert Cowell State Park (left), about a half hour from Santa Cruz, to which my colleague Jeff Spear drove me. Though there were abundant giant redwood trees on campus itself, these were dwarfed by the proportions of the ones I saw in the Cowell Woods. I realized how the Lilliputians might have felt when they gazed up at Gulliver during his Travels. The word ‘tall’ would be a gigantic (pun unintended) understatement with which to describe them. They tower immensely above one’s head, their collective skimpy branches reaching out for the sun’s rays. This leaves most of the tree branchless. They also tend to grow in circles—like many baby trees surrounding the main mother tree. This gives the entire forest the appearance of a land inhabited by druids, or other creatures from some prehistoric past. We saw on display part of a tree trunk hacked out from out of a tree that was 3,500 years old. Visitors who exclaim “Jesus” when they see the trees for the first time are told, “Only one thousand five hundred years before His time to be exact”. YOu can see me below drawfed by the colossal tree trunks.

For those interested in such exploration, the campus of the University of California at Santa Cruz where I taught a summer course as a Visiting Professor is indeed a good place to visit. Apart from its location–perched up ligh in the mountains and overlooking Monterrey Bay on the one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other–it is set in the midst of giant redwood forests which are enchanting at dawn and dusk when fog enshrouds the branches and whispers softly about early risers. Its many trails are ideal for hiking but beware, as the signs say, “of mountain lions”. That put paid to any plans I had to hike on my own in the woods.

Santa Cruz is a charming town indeed and particularly well geared to meet the needs of children. For me, a week spent in its cozy embrace was enough as I hightailed it off north along the spectacular Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco.

Bon Voyage!

San Francisco

Apr12

(In the shadow of the famous Golden Gate Bridge on a fog-enshrouded morning)

We’ve all heard the song: “If you’re goin’ to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair”. Well…I would modify that and say, “If you go to San Francisco, be sure to take some warm clothes in your trunk”. San Fran was freezing and I mean bone-chillingly. For the entire week that I was there, the sun barely made an appearance. Thick clouds hovered over the city and fog blew in from the Bay bringing a chilly wind in its wake. It was very unpleasant for someone who, imagining that she was summering in California, had carried nothing but tank tops and cotton jeans. Thank goodness for a couple of hoodies that kept me somewhat snug, if hopelessly unvaried in my wardrobe. Yet, after one crosses over the Bay and its accompanying hills and goes past Berkely and Oakland and enters the valley beyond, the weather changes dramatically and you can swear you are in the Mediterranean. Maybe that’s why they grow all those wine grapes there.
San Francisco is one of the country’s prettiest cities. Perched on a series of hills, it rises majestically from the water’s edge, presenting a tiered effect. Be prepared to do a lot of climbing. If you’re not fit enough to accomplish that, never you worry. There is an excellent public transport system, consisting of the underground BART (Bay Area Rapid Transport) and the cable car lines, not to mention a series of buses and trolleys that whiz you around the city very conveniently indeed. In fact, San Franciscans so love their cable cars that when a move was made to discontinue them, the citizens rose up in arms to protest.

Thus, two or three cable car lines continue to run, offering the tourist the opportunity to ride in an old-fashioned vehicle that travels at about ten miles per hour along trolley tracks for the princely sum of $5 per ride. This system is clearly tourist-dominated today which explains why you will see serpentine queues at the terminal points of these lines. Another fascinating thing to watch is the cable car turnaround at the end of the Powell-Hyde line and the Powell-Mason lines where the entire car is swung in the opposite direction on a giant wooden turntable illustrating the fact that low-tech does not necessarily mean inefficient. The Powell-Hyde line that I took from Taylor Street at the Fisherman’s Wharf provides the added thrills of climbing up then dipping down a series of hills as it makes it way to Market Street, causing me to bite off a few nails in nervousness as it conducted its breath-stopping maneuvers.

For someone without a car, the best way to see the city is to take the Hop-On Hop-Off City Sight-Seeing double-decker red bus. I have used these in other major cities (Dublin, Ireland and Vancouver, Canada, for example) and have not been disappointed. If bought on the Internet, one had the additional benefit of procuring two days sight-seeing for the price of one. Not a bad bargain when one is paying about $25 a ticket. The bus originates at the Fisherman’s Wharf but one might hop on at any of the 11 stops around the city. Plying once every half hour, it offers the most ingenious way of allowing tourists to stroll through a neighborhood on their own to meet it, as it were, on foot, before boarding the bus again for a dekko at the next neighborhood. In this fashion, I took walking tours of Chinatown and Little Italy and enjoyed them both.

San Francisco’s Chinatown (left) is the largest in North America. It was created after Chinese workers were brought in by the thousand to build the trans-Continental railroad in the mid-1800s. After the completed railroad snaked its way from sea to shining sea, the Chinese laborers stayed on, settling in the Bay Area and creating a Little China across the pond. Today, the area is bustling, busy and deeply interesting. I snooped around the souvenirs stores and bought a T-shirt for my brother Russel for $1.88 (yes, that is a dollar eighty-eight). I also bought a magnet and my stash of postcards for pennies. I poked around a few of the ancient temples with their intricate combination of pagodas and pediments on a street that was fully festooned with red Chinese paper lanterns with gold dragons and dogs painted on them. Typical architecture in the form of shops and buildings is very pretty indeed, some streets sporting balconies painted in such vivid colors, I thought I was in a Jackson Pollock painting. In a Chinese bakery, I ordered a moon bun that was thickly studded with dried fruit and nuts and was very tasty. Innumerable Chinese restaurants offered dim sum lunches that I was sorely tempted to taste. As in all Chinatowns around the world, the shopkeepers were eager to please and very attentive. When I had enough of Chinese culture, I boarded the bus again and proceeded to the next stop—the area known as North Beach which is also Little Italy.
Little Italy is the settlement of Italian immigrants who brought their food, culture and traditions to the city. It is a very intellectual area, studded with bookstores of which City Light (named after the Charlie Chaplin film) is most famous. Running right by it is Jack Kerouac Street, so-called because the Beat Poet frequently this enclave with his buddies and spent many a night drinking in its bars and speakeasies. At the flat-iron building that houses Café Zepoloft (?) today, Italian-American film-maker Francis Ford Coppola still edits his films and his writer protégés still work on scripts. I ordered and ate more pastries, this time Italian ones, from an Italian bakery that offered biscotti, napoleons, pine nut cookies and macaroons. Italian restaurants in this quarter serve steaming bowls of saucy pasta and minestrone and residents flock here for all manner of gigantic meals. At the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, a place where animals are blessed once a year, I admired the ornate altar and crossing Washington Park, I entered the Church of Saints Peter and Paul where baseball legend Joe DiMaggio hoped to marry Hollywood legend Marilyn Monroe but was prevented from doing so because they were both previously married and not yet divorced. However,once civilly married at City Hall, they did pose on the church’s steps for the paparazzi. Inside, the marble altar is more ornate than its close companion, St Francis’, down on Columbus Street.

Using the same bus service, I made my way to the historic Ferry Building which, before the advent of the BART system, ferried passengers across the Bay to suburbs such as Tiburon and Sausalito. Today, the ageing building that features a handsome clock tower has been fully refurbished to house a variety of snazzy shops offering all manner of pricey enticements such as gourmet chocolates and candles, artisan bread and local wine. Perhaps the best-known restaurant in that building is The Slanted Door, made famous by its talented chef, Charles Phraan who specializes in Vietnamese fusion cooking. Deciding to try out his creations, I opted for lunch there and, seated at the bar where I made friends and chatted with a gay couple named Brian and Tim, I ordered the Pho Bo, a huge Vietnamese soup made abundant by the addition of glass rice noodles, smoked beef, sprouted beans, fresh basil (lots of it) and mushrooms. It was delicious and very filling and replete with my meal, I walked to Fisherman’s Wharf’s Pier 33 to take my tour to Alcatraz Island to see the infamous prison that closed down in the 1960s.

Tour to Alcatraz Island:
Alcatraz Island lies a half hour ferry ride away in the Bay of San Francisco, a protruding rock first inhabited by Native American Indians, then by U.S. Defense forces during World War II. When the war ended, it was converted into a maximum security prison and attained notoriety as the place where such people as Al Capone of the Chicago Mafia spent years under lock and key. Today, the U.S. National Parks Service runs the island which has become a museum of sorts. Tickets to the island are sold on the hour, only a limited number of visitors permitted to cross the swirling currents and get to the island which is a paradise for a variety of bird life. Indeed, long before the ferry approaches the island, visitors spy snow-white egrets and night-dark commorants and any number of grey seagulls.
Once on the island, we were greeted by a cheerful park ranger named John who suggested that we watch a 15 minute movie giving a brief history of the island or proceed to the place from which audio tours are handed out for self-guided walks through the main prison. I chose to do both, watching the movie which I found quite fascinating indeed for its presentation of life on Alcatraz long before it became a prison and long after it disintegrated into disuse. When I did proceed up a steep hill to the Visitors Entrance, I was already within the prison. With the aid of the audio tour, I was able to traverse the space once occupied by some of the most notorious criminals in history. We were taken to the room in which they would have been fingerprinted and searched, provided with mandatory prison gear, then shown up to their cells to the raucous and jeering sounds of their cell mates.

The audio tour is one of the best I have ever taken. The Parks Service reportedly interviewed more than a thousand people to make the tape. In the voices of former prisoners and correctional officers, the story of Alcatraz is told in cold and realistic fashion. Examining the prisoner’s cells, their dining hall, the kitchen, their prison yard (where exercise was permitted once a day), the cells in which they were held is solitary confinement, etc. gave me the creeps. Fabulous sound effects and the use of actors to play the key roles of escapees, jailers, etc. make the entire experience extremely realistic and deeply troubling.

The masterminding of two successful escape bids was amazingly well re-enacted. The complete sterility of the environment, the sparseness of the prisoner’s belongings, the ways in which they found amusement (oil painting, reading Kant and Hegel by borrowing books from the library) were profoundly evocative of an era. There were also interviews with the families of the correctional officers and wardens for whose children Alcatraz was home. Despite the dangerous elements lurking in their own backyard, as it were, they had a very pleasant and comfortable life, crossing the bay by ferry each day to get to school and returning in the evening when the prisoners were safely locked up for the night. Of course, references to the movie Escape from Alcatraz were everywhere and I vowed to watch this sometime soon just as a visit to the Bridge on the River Kwai that I took in Thailand last year led me to watch the film of the same name again.
Back on the mainland, I took the Mason-Powell cable car back to Market Street before calling it a day.

(At Alamo Park in front of The Painted Ladies with the skyscrapers of downtown San Francisco in the background)

The next day, before I began my bus tour, I walked all the way to Alamo Park in the western reaches of the city to see a sight that has long been printed on postcards of San Francisco—the row of ‘Painted Ladies’, as the decorative row houses are called—with the city’s towering skyline just beyond it. The walk was very pleasant indeed and took me through parts of the city that I would never, otherwise, have explored. When I did get to Alamo Park, I found myself preceded by other eager-beavers strewn with cameras who positioned themselves in such a way as to overlook the majestic scene before us and get pictures from the best angles. Once again, distant fog blurred our pictures but the sight was so enchanting that I overlooked my disappointment and focused on the wisdom that had led me to discover this corner of the city for myself.

Later that morning, I took the Hop On Hop Off Bus once again and explored Union Square (left), San Francisco’s answer to New York’s Times Square. Encircled by fine department stores such as Macy’s and Neiman-Marcus and fancy hotels such as the Westin St. Francis (San Francisco is Italian for St. Francis, after all), the Square is highlighted by a bronze sculpture of the goddess of Victory created by Robert Aitken in 1903 that stands high on a towering pedestal. It is the central hub of the city with tourists seated on the steps, listening to buskers play music or provide street entertainment or walk busily in and out of the larger, more fancy stores. I chose to visit Gump’s, the department store that is a San Francisco institution, a kind of Tiffany’s, stocked full of jewelry, crystal and china to make any bride’s heart beat faster.

Back on the bus, I made my way to the famous Fisherman’s Wharf where every tourist in the city seems to congregate. It is a busy pier-like place facing the waterfront where shops, restaurants, museums and amusement arcades (Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, for instance) are located. Deciding to get lunch first, I made my way to Cioppino’s (pronounced Chip-ee-nose), the restaurant that serves the famous Fish Soup called cioppino, San Francisco’s version of Marseille’s bouillabaisse. It is so-called because the soup was concocted when each Italian fisherman “chipped in” a part of his catch—one gave monkfish, another threw in some mussels, a third stuck in a crab while a fourth donated some clams and squid. Braised in a rich tomato-fennel broth, cioppino is served with hearty slices of garlic sourdough bread—at $22 it is expensive but made a filling meal for two. I took more than half of my soup away and ate it for dinner that evening.

Replete with my delicious native meal, I hopped on the bus again to take the Golden Gate Bridge Tour, which offered the experience of driving right over the bridge and taking pictures in the shadow of its graceful arches. Unfortunately, the bridge was shrouded in fog, scenes beyond the bay were barely visible and most visitors shivered in the damp air. Its rich ochre color came as something of a surprise to me but when viewed from certain angles, it presents itself as a very delicate, even fragile, structure indeed. The bus then looped us around the Presidio, which is a state park that borders the Bridge. Filled with the former barracks of soldiers that have now been converted into summer homes, it is a quiet and bucolic place, far from the bustle of traffic, yet just within the city’s shadow.
Driving further away from the bridge and towards the city, the bus deposited us at the Museum of Fine Art whose domed roof and circle of Greek columns each of which was topped by a vestal virgin weeping for the sadness of a life without Art was stunning. We took many pictures in that enchanting spot and I was a little annoyed at tourists who frolicked upon the structures desecrating the sanctity of the place.

As the bus drove forwards, it climbed high into Pacific Heights, the elite part of the city where more ‘Painted Ladies’ reflect San Francisco’s prosperous heyday. These Victorian and Queen Anne style mansions give the city a very distinctive look—one of the most spacious, the gigantic Spreckles Mansion, is today occupied by romance novelist Danielle Steele who has constructed a huge hedge around her abode to discourage fans from snooping around–and compete with the more contemporary skyline that has developed in the wake of the construction of the downtown skyscrapers. Of these, the Bank of America building is the tallest but it seems dwarfed by the Transamerica Tower whose interesting modernist design makes it stand out. Other structures built on the city’s hills include Coit Tower to whose tops visitors can climb if they are so inclined. I declined the challenge just as I refused to climb to the heights of Lombard Street to see the “Crookedest Street in the World”, a narrow downhill winding street superbly manicured and decorated with a riot of flowers. I did see the street from a distance, though, and did not feel quite so deprived for giving it a miss.

That evening, I met my friend Ash Rajan at The Westin St. Francis Hotel as he decided to treat me to a slap-up dinner at Michael Mina, the restaurant that is the most sought-after reservation in town. Before we sat down to dinner, though, we had fabulously creative martinis at Cliff’s, a very chic but understated hotel two blocks away where we sipped lychee martinis, lavender and lemon grass martinis and mandarin orange blossom and thyme martinis—all of which were fabulous. When we did get to Michael Mina’s, an hour later, we were treated like royalty. Mina’s exclusive menu features three to four variations of a single ingredient that becomes part of a prix fixe menu featuring an appetizer, entrée and dessert. Ash and I consulted long and hard about the menu and chose fois gras and lobster as our appetizers, pork and lamb for our entrees and chocolate and a selection of cheeses for our dessert. Accompanied by a glass of champagne and some exceptional wines, we enjoyed one of the most memorable meals of my entire life.
The tab was hefty to say the least but the unique experience was worth every penny and is highly recommended if your pocket should permit such indulgence.

Fisherman’s Wharf:
Indeed the Fisherman’s Wharf provides a great number of attractions to cheer the heart of even the most jaded tourist. Hence, I made a return to this spot. I headed first for Ghirardelli Plaza, perched on a height, which, once I got there, opened up to a square around which was every manner of chocolate haven. Most visitors made their way, however, to the Original Ghirardelli Shop where the lines to get in were long and somewhat discouraging. However, they moved quickly. I joined the throng and realized why the site was so popular. Free samples of Ghirardelli squares were given to each visitor who could then choose to browse around the store selling chocolate or make their way into the ice-cream parlor where at the soda fountain bar, waiters took orders for gigantic sundaes each of which was flooded with the most luscious Ghirardelli hot fudge sauce, whipped cream and a cherry. I placed my order for a Chocolate Hot Fudge Sundae and seated myself at one of the tables inside where a waitress appeared magically, just a few seconds later, and presented me with a scrumptious scoop of Paradise in a glass.

With a bag full of chocolate samples, I walked away from the plaza and towards Pier 39, an amusement arcades of sorts, littered with souvenir stores, T-shirt shops, hot dog and burger stands and every manner of distraction for kid and adult alike. Then, because my guide book told me not to miss the sea-lions that congregate at the end of the Pier, I walked briskly towards the bellowing animals and watched their antics. At least a hundred of them had ‘hauled’ themselves upon the pier where they were being photographed by tourists in the midst of their deafening roars—a sight better than seen at any zoo.

Walking away from the Pier, I arrived at the Boudin Bread Factory where San Francisco’s famous sourdough bread originated. Indeed, the bread was created quite by accident when a batch of dough was ‘spoiled’ by the addition of a sour yeast starter. When the bread emerged and was tasted, however, it was found to be not just palatable, but delicious, and lo and behold, a winner was born. Sourdough bread loaves are hollowed to form bowls and are filled with creamy, hearty clam chowder all over the Wharf—a typical lunch for most visitors to San Francisco. As in all other gourmet stores, here too samples of sourdough bread were available for those who had just lunched and did not wish to purchase a whole loaf.

On second thoughts, San Francisco is such a fun city that you still might want to wear some flowers in your hair when you get there–just for fun, for that’s why the city stands.

Bon Voyage!

Napa Valley

Apr12

Napa Valley: Heart of California Wine Country

(With my wine-connoisseur friend Ash Rajan at the V. Sattui Winery in Napa Valley)

Within an hour and a half out of the city of San Francisco, traffic thins considerably and the landscape completely transforms itself. Not only does it grow considerably warmer, but the fog lifts and a mantle of golden sunshine floods the valley that is filled with mile upon mile of neat vineyards whose vines were heavily laden with fruit. If I closed my eyes, I could have sworn I was in Provence for the entire landscape reflected the laidback ambience of the Mediterranean.
Indeed the people of Napa Valley, most vulgarly rich from the fruits of their labor (literally—for those vines have borne fine grapes!) have embraced a life of discerning luxury. For the visitor, a drive up the main snaking arterial road that takes one deeper and deeper into Wine Country, is a most pleasant experience. Everywhere one sees ripe fruit just begging to be picked and wineries that offer endless tastings at very modest prices. Larger establishments offer picnicking facilities in their gardens and gourmet delis that stock a variety of finger food such as olives and cheeses, mustards, jams and preserves, salsas and chocolates galore. I had a field day nibbling on the samples freely offered together with a variety of crackers and cubes of bread. One can purchase wine, of course, and have it shipped to any part of the world.
Ash and I had lunch that day at Siena, the Italian restaurant attached to a new resort called Le Meritage where I chose Dungeness Crab Cakes for starters, a Rock Shrimp Paella Risotta for my main course and Tiramisu for dessert. Then, barely able to move, we stumbled into our car to begin our drive through the heart of Napa Valley taking in the little towns en route such as Oakville, Yountville and Rutherford with their well-known, easily recognized wineries sprinkled through the entire territory and fancy restaurants skimming past us.
We made certain we stopped at V. Sattui Winery that has become a mandatory destination for almost every visitor to Napa Valley. In extensive gardens, picnic tables with checked tablecloths are laid out for the benefit of the traveler while, in the deli inside, one can buy picnic items such as french bread and dijon mustard, cold cuts and fresh strawberries, chilled sparkling wines and creamy desserts. Further down the street is Oaklville Deli, another Napa institution ,where most visitors stop to buy more unusual eats and cheeses that can be carted in coolers to their next destination. Apart from offering onophiles a variety of wines to suit the most fastidious palate, Napa is a gourmet’s paradise as well as there is something to tickle every taste bud and all under one roof.

When we finally arrived at the lovely little one-street town of St. Helena, we got off to explore the attractive stores full of home décor items that reproduced the ambience of the South of France in the warmth of California. Luxury items such as antique house wares and toiletries, stationary shops and designer clothing boutiques and loads of exclusive gourmet markets offered the heavy-walleted a variety of items to pander to his every desire. I window-shopped freely, waltzed in and out of several stores, explored the town’s main street with its ornate theater (left), bought myself a few inexpensive souvenirs and about an hour later made my way back to the car for our return drive to the city.
Napa Valley is a dream resort for anyone who wishes to get away from the rough and tumble of everyday life. It offers world class cuisine, exquisite wines and pairings that are made in heaven. The air is soft and warm and rich with the scent of laden vines. Sculptures of grape-crushers dot the skies amidst the shrubbery. The soft shades of beige hills contrast with fresh greenery and the deep purple and grape-green of the ripened fruit make one feel as if one is in an Italian bower. Traffic can get a little heavy during the peak hour rush but there are enough new resorts, hotels and restaurants to keep the visitor spellbound for at least a good few days.

I was glad I visited this very exclusive part of the United States to which I had become introduced through the Food TV I watch regularly and the programs on potent potations that cannot stop discussing the wines of Napa, one of which is hosted by the inimiatable Michael Chiarello, founder-chef of Tre Vigne. Napa’s most famous retaurant.

Bon Voyage!

Muir Woods

Apr12

Muir Woods: Home of California’s Giant Redwoods

(At the entrance to the Muir Woods, home of the giant California redwoods)

I thought I had seen the most awesome giant redwood trees on the campus of the University of California at Santa Cruz. But they were dwarfs in comparison to the ones I saw at the Muir Woods, about 45 minutes north of San Francisco.

The City Sight Seeing Company provided a wonderfully comfortable van that seated about 10 tourists and in the company of a knowledgeable guide called Tonas, we made our way over the Golden Gate Bridge and into the beautiful stretch of eucalyptus woods that comprise Mount Tamalpais before arriving at the Muir Woods. The drive across Mount Tamalpais is incredibly and unexpectedly delightful. One expects to be awed by the redwoods, but the sharp hairpin bends and the steep dips into the valleys, san guardrail, amidst the spicey scent of eucalyptus, are heart-stoppingly lovely.
The Muir Woods remind one of Robert Frost’s famous lines: “The woods are lonely, dark and deep/ And I have promises to keep/And miles to go before I sleep.” Despite the fact that so many people had made the journey to see some of the tallest trees in the world, the sequoia sempervirens, popularly known as the California redwoods, the woods are so vast, and the height of the trees so towering that one feels lonely in their midst—shrunken, as it were, to insignificance, in their mighty presence.

Past the Visitor’s Center, there are trails that enthusiastic walkers could take to get deeper and deeper into the woods. But one doesn’t really need to trudge for more than twenty minutes along them to be completely ensconced by the immense girth of these tree trunks, most of which have been around for at least three to four centuries. It is one of the miracles of ecology and conservation that these trees have been left alone for such a long period of time, allowing them the luxurious opportunity to reach out towards the stars in their attempt to find sunlight. Meanwhile, at the base of each tree grows a ring of young ‘babies’, which also, as time marches on, begin their own process of reaching for the light. Thus, the width of each tree trunk is as stupendous as its height. The overall effect is one of walking under a natural canopy of green pine branches that provide a complete umbrella against the sun’s rays—hence, the darkness that envelopes one even in broad daylight.

(Standing inside the tree trunk of a California giant sequoia redwood )

A picturesque creek wends its way through the woods. Park rangers have thoughtfully created natural redwood bridges to span this creek at intervals, allowing the visitor to walk from one trail to the next at will before returning to the wood’s entrance. Having taken several pictures of the trees, their tops, their bottoms, their fallen tree trunks, their hollowed interiors, the natural bridges that some of the tree trunks have formed over time, I was ready to leave, knowing that I had seen one of the most amazing natural sights in the world.

(A stunning view of a circle of redwoods in the depths of the Muir Woods)

Bon Voyage!

Berkeley

Apr12

Berkeley: California’s Historic University Town

(At Sather Gate, entrance to the campus of the University of California at Berkeley)

Being an academic, I could not possibly leave the San Francisco Bay Area without visiting Berkeley, the pretty town north of the city where the famous campus of the University of California at Berkeley is located. Berkeley was the hot seat of much historic eruption in the 1960s when the protest against the Vietnam War began. These protests then filtered down through the entire country until the feverish momentum created by American students finally brought the war to an end. I couldn’t help but wonder, as I walked through those historic campus streets, where the spirit of America’s students has gone and why there have been such few protests on America’s campuses today against the war in the Middle East.

I reached Berkely by taking the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) underground subway service to the town. From San Francisco’s City Center, it took me approximately 45 minutes to make the journey. Berkeley is known for being more than just a university town. It is an upscale enclave of Californians who have been at the cutting edge of all kinds of revolutions—including culinary ones.

Indeed, one of America’s most famous chefs, Alice Waters, quietly began a food revolution in the 1980s when she promoted the use of nothing but organically-grown, fresh produce and ingredients in her restaurant which became famous as Chez Panisse. Eager to sample one of her unique creations myself, I took the bus up Shadduck Avenue and got off just a few steps away from the restaurant only to find that being a Monday, it was closed. I was bitterly disappointed, but at least I had the opportunity to skim through her menu and take in the uniqueness of her vision. Today, most restaurants worth their salt in the United States use organic ingredients in their cooking, serve them raw or uncooked so as to present them in as nutritionally rich a form as possible and in doing so, they pay homage to the lady who scoured the country to find local farmers and artisanal purveyors of cheeses and wines to satisfy her exacting standards. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Chez Panisse and Alice Waters converted American from a nation of processed food addicts to one that embraced freshness and thus, good taste.

Having made a pilgrimage of sorts to this amazing place, I took the bus back towards University Avenue to begin my walking tour of the campus of UC Berkeley. I did not realize how vast it was. Indeed, in encircling it on foot, I walked a good three and a half miles! My Eyewitness Guide Book presented a fine walking tour of the campus and following it, for the most part, I explored the most significant buildings.

Architecturally varied, they differ from the Neo-Classical façade of Sproul House, the magnificent building on which protestors during the 60s congregated in their thousand, the Italianate Sather Tower based on the campanile in the Piazza San Marco in Venice (left), the ornate verdigris Sather Gate and the solid Greek lines of the Doe, Morrison and Bancroft Memorial Libraries (below left), all of which are spread out over a network of pretty gardens, burbling creeks and urban shop-lined streets.

This becomes more evident as one reaches the outer limits of the campus on Telegraph Avenue where the Museums are located. I dipped briefly into the Art Museum and the book store, saw the very exclusive Faculty Club inside and out with the unique log cabin building sitting right besides it, the Greek amphitheater on whose stone steps I sat and took a brief rest and nibbled on a brownie imagining what it might feel to listen to an opera in those environs, then walked right through the Business school which is an example of truly modernist architectural perfection, The campus is everywhere punctuated with sculpture donated by its various benefactors. Magnolia trees enliven the walkways and make the entire stroll a delight. If you are fond of noticing the architectural splendor of university buildings and the genius that it takes to position them to their best advantage, you will thoroughly enjoy this exploration of Berkeley.

Since Telegraph Avenue is the most happening street in Berkeley, I strolled slowly down it taking in the vibrant tourist energy all around me. Tatoo parlors, ethnic restaurants, trendy boutiques, used book stores, souvenir shops—you name it, Telegraph Avenue has it. On and on the street seemed to go, getting more and more exciting and crowded the further one walked away from campus. I realized why Berkeley has such a hip reputation and why real estate is so expensive in this intellectual enclave. It made very intriguing browsing indeed and I was glad I stopped by.

Bon Voyage!

California

Apr12

Northern California revealed itself to me in varying guises. From the chic urbanity of San Francisco with its neatly wrought hill side mansions, world-class restaurants and enticing stores to the quaint, quiet country side of Napa Valley; from the historic Spanish mission plazas of Sonoma to the intelligentsia swarming the steps of Berkeley’s most famous buildings; from the creepy cellular jail at Alcatraz to the astounding natural beauty of the redwood forests at Muir; from the raucous beach front attractions of Santa Cruz to the awesome coastal wonders of the Pacific Coast Highway at Monterrey Bay, I felt as if I had traveled through many countries without having left a single state.

It was with the greatest sadness that I boarded my flight to return home to Connecticut, only to find that the flight offered another multitude of wonders. From my window seat, at take off, I had the most splendid view of the Bay Area. In the distance, I saw the red lines of the stately Golden Gate Bridge, flanked on the opposite end by the graceful lines of the longer, lovelier Bay Bridge. Downtown San Francsico rose up to greet me, its skyscrapers presenting themselves in a different perspective as I recognized the landmark buildings from the air. As the aircraft skimmed over Monterrey Bay, just a little further south, I saw the coast settlements of Pebble Beach and Santa Cruz, then further south Carmel-By- The Sea. Then, suddenly, veering sharply north, the plane began its ascent passing over the great expanse of Lake Tahoe that lay shimmering like a glass mirror below me. From that point onwards, it seemed that every time I stuck my head outside the window, we were flying over a great body of water. In Utah, we flew right over the Great Salt Lake, so that I saw Salt Lake City lying sprawlingly below me. Much further east, we flew directly over Lake Erie in Pennsylvania and I realized why those bodies of water are called the Great Lakes. Indeed they are enormous and no stretch of the imagination can quite conjure a sense of their vastness or magnitude. Then, night fell over the continental United States and I had to end my rumination of the fascinating and varied geography that makes up this great nation. Indeed, as I flew from sea to shining sea, I realized how grand is this nation, how diverse, how completely awe-inspiring. It is travel that truly opens up one’s horizons, not just broadening them, as the old cliché goes, but deepening them. My visit to Northern California certainly did all this for me and more.

To read about my adventures within the varied terrain of Northern California, please clink on the links below.

Vancouver

Apr12

Elegant Canadian City

Drive from Calgary to Vancouver:
By the time we boarded the Greyhound bus that took us from Calgary to Vancouver, we were almost trembling with anticipation as we had heard so much about the scenic beauty of the area from friends who had visited the Parks earlier. And indeed, the drive did not disappoint. Both Llew and I were traveling by Greyhound after years. We had both forgotten how convenient, courteous and pleasant the service can be. The bus made frequent stops to allow us to use restrooms, stretch our legs, buy snacks (we ate loads of ice-cream on this journey) or eat picnic meals.
As for the scenery, it was simply spectacular! I was delighted that we passed through Yoho and Glacier National Parks, stopping at the towns of Golden and Revelstoke. As we went through Roger’s Pass, we saw the historic monument by the wayside. Needless to say, the mountains were our constant companions, following us in and out of the many tunnels, as we passed by bubbling rivers and playful cascades. We followed the tracks of the Canadian Pacific Railway throughout and once I even spied one of those elegant silver VIA trains snaking its way on the mountain in the distance. The air was so perfectly pure at those heights that we did not notice the hairpin bends that are sometimes prone to cause travel-sickness.
It was a bit disturbing, at one point, to see a forest fire blazing on a mountain top far away sending thick whorls of black smoke spiraling into the air. A few minutes later, we saw the fire-fighting helicopters with the water bombs attached to them that open up just above the fire to douze it. We napped frequently on the bus and once we reached Kamloops, we were instructed to turn our wrist watches one hour behind for the change in time zone. When we entered the province of British Columbia, the landscape changed completely but remained extraordinarily beautiful as we passed by the lakeshore towns of Salmon Arm, Sorrento and Sicamous on huge Lake Sushwap. We enjoyed that drive tremendously and it will always remain in our memory as one of the most scenic we’ve ever taken.

Arrival in Vancouver:
When we did arrive in Vancouver, after darkness had fallen over the city, we found our friend Margaret Deefholts waiting to receive us at the Greyhound Terminal. She drove us to her home in Surrey, about 45 minutes away, and had a hot Indian dinner waiting for us. After a whole week of enjoying varied ethnic meals, we were delighted to tuck into Fish Curry and Alu Mattar and Pea Pullao with Indian mithai for dessert! Margaret proved to be a most warm and generous hostess. Our bed was comfortable each night, she provided gargantuan breakfasts which included my favorite cereals (Kellog’s Mueslix and Jordan’s Muesli from England), chauffeured us to the railway station and back for our trips into the city, bought us take-out meals from local Chinese-Indian restaurants and provided valuable sight-seeing advice. We could not have asked for a better guide as Margaret is a well-published travel-writer and her tips were invaluable.

Exploring Vancouver:
It was at Margaret’s suggestion that we purchased tickets online for the Hop-On, Hop-Off Bus that took visitors through the heart of Central Vancouver allowing them to explore the major sights at their leisure. We had used such a service in Dublin, Ireland, a few years ago, and what with the humorous commentary given in a rich Irish brogue by the accompanying guide, we had thoroughly enjoyed that tour.
We took the Sky Train from Scott Road Station in Surrey and enjoyed the experience of using local transportation the way most city dwellers did. Once we got off at Vancouver Central Station, we marveled at the architecture and the interior design of the building that housed local and long-distance trains as well as offered harbor ferry rides for those wishing to cross over into Northern Vancouver. As we made our way to Water Street to pick up our tickets, it started to drizzle slightly, a condition, we were told, that was quite common in Vancouver in the mornings. Fortunately, it did clear up and by the time we reached the famous Steam Clock to watch it toll the hour to the accompaniment of billing clouds of smoke, the sun had begun to peep out shyly. Then we were back at the main train station to board a ferry that took us to Lonsdale Quay on the opposite shore where a perfectly spruce and entirely enticing farmer’s market awaited us. We were amazed at the quality of the produce and the attractive manner in which fruits, vegetables, chocolates, baked items and other goodies were displayed. They were all quite irresistible but we had eaten an enormous breakfast and felt no hunger pangs at that point.
Back in the main city again, we walked to the near-by Canada Place building to see the interesting sail-like architecture of the space that is used mainly as a launching pad for cruises to Alaska. Then hopping on to our bus one more, we rode it all the way to Granville Island which we reached across a very interesting bridge constructed in Art Deco Style. By this time, the sun was well and truly out and we had beautiful views of Vancouver Harbor as it lay in the midst of its scenic splendor. For the mountains in the distance, the sea views, the skyscrapers and the little yatchs in the marina on Granville combined to create picture post-card views of the city.
Granville Island was once the center of Vancouver’s thriving industrial base. But when it fell to disuse and the warehouses rotted for years, it was truly an eyesore. Deciding to refurbish the area by converting the warehouses and factories into ample spaces for craft stores, public food markets, restaurants and boutiques, Granville Island today enjoys a second lease on life as the center of tourist activity in Vancouver and we saw hundreds of visitors enjoying the food courts and browsing through the one-of-a-kind stores. Llew and I chose to enjoy a tasty but very late and light Japanese sushi lunch in the food court in the public market before we hopped on to the bus again to take us past English Beach Bay and Stanley Park (both of which we would explore the next day) towards Chinatown, one of North America’s largest.

Chinatown and Gastown:
Most of the Chinese who are settled in Vancouver today came to the country over a century ago as cheap labor to build the Trans-Canada railroad. While they are spread all over the more fashionable suburbs of the city today, their original settlement of Chinatown still retains a great deal of ethnic flavor. Arriving there about 5 pm, however, we found it surprisingly quiet and lacking the bustle that is traditionally associated with Chinatown in New York. However, we did follow the hints in our guide book and strolled along East Pender Street stopping only to see the Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Classical Garden, a wonderfully green cultural oasis in the midst of the busy city. We took many pictures around the pagodas, bridges, stepping stones, etc. that characterize such gardens before we decided to walk the short distance to trendy Gastown.
We arrived at the famous bronze sculpture portraying “Gassy” Jack Deighton, a British sailor who boasted that he could set up a drinking saloon in the area. Before long, his boastfulness proved to be justified for the bar did sprout up. “Gas”town owes its name to the Braggart Deighton. A delightfully old-fashioned neighborhood of cobbled streets, quaint squares, an old inn, even a charming “Gaoler’s Mews”, we walked through it at leisure noting the history behind every unique building.
Then we were back on the Sky Train again heading towards Margaret’s place where we regaled her with our varied adventures that day over take-out Indian-Chinese dinner from The Green Lettuce, an eatery that is run by Winston Wang, nephew of the famous Nelson Wang of Bombay’s China Garden Restaurant. Margaret is known by name in this place and we received VIP treatment though we had only stopped to pick up a take-out dinner!

Strolling Around Stanley Park:
The next day, we continued our exploration of Vancouver heading on the Hop-On, Hop-Off bus (whose ticket is valid for two days) to Stanley Park, the vast green expanse at the east end of the city. The Totem Poles there are the biggest draw and we posed for pictures by these interesting native Indian art forms that signify one’s family ties in the same way that British crests, heralds and coats of arms do. Beautifully carved and painted by local native Canadian Indians, the poles are found all over British Columbia, a province that is extremely proud of its native Indian heritage. The free shuttle bus in Stanley Park took us through most of the sights in that sprawling space, but much as we wished to stay on to explore every nook and cranny, we had to hurry off to Granville Island once more to meet our Ontario-based friends, Valentine and Jacinta Gomes, who happened to be visiting family members in Vancouver at the same time that we were.

Lunch on Granville Island:
While on Granville Island the previous day, we had spied the Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts and since we know from experience that such training schools offer meals that are incredible value for money, we had inquired about the possibility of a lunch reservation. As it turned out, we were able to reserve a table for noon the next day and our friends met us there for a long, leisurely and completely satisfying meal that was huge in both portion size and taste. Over Seafood Quiche, New York sirloin strip steak and Black Forest Gateau, we chattered incessantly. Then, full to bursting, we strolled around the island and returned to the city for more exploration. A few minutes after our friends bid us goodbye to keep another appointment, it began to rain again and the bus proved the perfect refuge for it allowed us to see the city while staying dry. Unique in every way, in its layout and its location, being surrounded as it is by inlets and creeks that are connected by imposing bridges, punctuated by lush gardens and boasting a large variety of interesting neighborhoods, Vancouver is indeed a very beautiful city and has much to offer both visitor and settler alike. It had met all our expectations fully and since we had two leisurely days in which to explore it, we felt as if we had seen it in its best attire.

Bon Voyage!

Calgary

Apr12

Canadian Rockies

(At Bow Lake in Banff National Park, Canadian Rockies)

As I gaze with awe (undiminished by the fact that that they are mere celluloid reproductions on film-quality paper) at the many pictures we took on our trip to Canada, I relive the indescribable joys of having spent such a special time cosseted by the embracing arms of Nature. Having devoted a whole week to an exploration of the national parks in Alberta, Canada, and a second to a discovery of her Pacific coastal cities in British Columbia, Llew and I have returned home, renewed, refreshed and rejuvenated beyond belief.

Arrival in Banff via Calgary:
Our vacation began in the Canadian city of Calgary to which we flew from New York’s La Guardia airport. But setting aside the exploration of that city, famous for its August Stampede for a later date, we picked up our rental car from the airport and began the interesting drive towards the Rockies which, at that distance, were only faint outlines in the far background.
Within a half hour, we were closer to those mountains that would keep us company for the next couple of weeks. Another hour later, we had reached the entrance to Banff National Park where we purchased annual passes into Canada’s park system and passing the “hoodoos” or rocky limestone formations along the highway on our right, found ourselves, just a few minutes later, cruising into the toy-like township of Banff.
Without any further ado, we found and settled into our Bed and Breakfast accommodation, quite suitably named Squirrel’s Nest. A very modest homestead indeed, run by Calvin and Paul Shalotka and their four children (little Morgan was the friendliest), we were allotted the en suite bedroom that adjoined the dining room where all guests met in the mornings for breakfast.
Our first stroll around Banff introduced us to a town that’s almost Disney-like in its story-book charm. The Alpine ambience of the entire township struck me immediately, as seen in the chalet-like houses and the masses of flowers that poured out of every available hanging basket and window-box. Banff sits silently in the verdant Bow Valley in the immediate shadow of two towering heights, Mount Rundle and Cascade Mountain. While these natural bastions quietly guard the town, it is on Banff Avenue or “Strip” that life becomes most vibrant. Lined by well-stocked souvenir shops and eateries, ice-cream parlors, old-fashioned “fudgeries” and bakeries, dalliances along the Strip are regular evening activity and by 6 pm., about the time we were checking out a possible place for dinner, most tourists, weary from having hiked and biked, fished and kayaked their way around the parks all day, were ready for some substantial sustenance. And the restaurants do not disappoint. From pricey gourmet eateries to more modest bistros and delis, you can find exactly what your taste buds desire in this eclectic place. There is every possible kind of ethnic cuisine available and for the next few days, we experimented widely. Though we settled for steaming plates of pasta at The Old Spaghetti Factory (the lasagna was fabulous, saucy, cheesy, gooey) that first evening to quell our own appetites, made gigantic by the bracing mountain air, we were equally pleased to spy the local Safeway from which we intended to purchase fresh ingredients each day for the picnic meals we wished to enjoy by lake side or gushing river beds.

Musing in A Museum:
Morning breakfasts at Squirrel’s Nest were carb-heavy (think cereal, toast, bread and muffins, washed down by orange juice and coffee) but provided the requisite fuel for energetic holiday-makers, such as ourselves, who couldn’t wait to get out there and explore. Our guide book told us that if there was just one museum we would visit in the parks, we should make it the Whythe Museum of the Canadian Rockies—and that was where we headed first off. Based around the widely divergent but very fulfilling lives of Bostonian Catherine and Banffian Peter Whythe who adored the Rockies and spent a lifetime exploring and documenting them through their association with local Stoney Indians, the museum presented a lovely special exhibit on their own personal love story as well as their substantial collection of art work based mainly around the mountains. We learned a great deal about their lives and left with much admiration for this adventurous couple who braved harsh terrain and brutal winters so that they could live in the midst of so much unspoiled beauty.

Trekking and Hiking:
Though we did have a car at our disposal for the entire week, Llew and I did a great deal of walking and biking, having equipped ourselves with one of the trail guides that allow self-guided hikes. Each trail took us deep into the woods, far away from the seductions of the township and provided us with the possible opportunity for spying wildlife. Since we had both arrived in the mountains hoping to see animals and birds in their natural habitat, we kept our eyes peeled for any possible movement in the bushes and the trees overhead for our furred and feathered friends. That first morning, we enjoyed a trek along the Bow River banks towards the Fenland Trail where, deep in the heart of thick aspen forests, we felt completely isolated from the world, surrounded only by the murmuring of crickets and the occasional chirping of the birds. We saw large and beautiful magpies along the river banks and paused often to take their pictures just as we stopped on our woodland hikes to notice the numbers of evergreen trees that had fallen across the rivers—“deadfall” as rangers label them—several uprooted at the base. The Bow River, crystal-clear and reflecting the jagged ridges of the mountains, is present ubiquitously in this area all the way from Calgary up to Jasper, creating gentle waterfalls and deep canyons at frequent turns.

In Quest of (and Running Into) the Deadly Grizzly Bear:

It was on our way to Johnston Canyon by car along the gently meandering Bow Valley Parkway that we spied our first black bear, a cute cub with its forearms wrapped adorably around a tree. The bear attracted a great deal of attention and we learned, soon enough, that when a number of cars are parked on the motorway ahead, it is a sure indication that some interesting wildlife is lurking in the woods. And then imagine how overjoyed we were, when just a few yards ahead, we spotted a brown bear. Of course, on our first trek that morning, we had seen signs “warning” us that with the buffalo berries so ripe in the hedges, it was very likely that bears would be about as they love this treat and come down from the mountains into the valley to snack on them. But little did we realize that we would see them so early in our stay. Llew was not content with taking pictures of the brown bear from the car and, quite fearlessly and much to my anguish, he stepped out and headed towards the large and rotund animal, his camera poised high in the air, ready to click each time the beast raised its head and looked our way. We soon attracted a number of other drivers who also slowed their cars down, then got out of their vehicles for a closer look. The bear, quite nonchalant about all the attention, continued gobbling the berries and permitted us to take that occasional picture upon which Llew was so bent. A little later, its meal consumed, it ambled off rather peaceably into the woods, leaving us quite delighted at our sighting. Imagine our thrill, a few days later, when on talking to Gord Antonius, a park warden, at whose lodging we stayed in Jasper, we discovered that the “brown bear” was, in fact, a grizzly, and that we had been privileged to receive one of the rarest sightings in the park! Oh, our trip was made, and we were left on such a high! We were still talking excited about it at dinner that night at A Taste of Sri Lanka in the Cascades Mall Food Court where we elected to find a curry meal after we had stopped to take pictures at the marvelous monolith of Castle Mountain, so-called because its ridges are reminiscent of the turrets of a fairy-tale castle. It was on this drive back home that we spied our first elk, a large buck with a magnificent set of antlers that bounded joyously into the undergrowth.

More Woodland Creatures:
Reaching the waterfalls at Johnston Canyon proved to be quite a challenge that day as one had to climb quite steadily up a narrow path all along the banks of the Bow River before one finally got to the cascades that thundered down into the canyon below. We were rewarded along the way with sightings of rather friendly golden-mantled squirrels who were tame enough to eat out of the hands of passers-by who insisted on feeding them though repeatedly instructed not to do so. Llew then decided to follow a bird-watcher into the woods at a clearing where I chose to take a bit of a rest and returned to me about fifteen minutes later with the greatest excitement. He had just spotted a pileated woodpecker, a large and very attractive bird with a deep scarlet crest that made it stand out magnificently against the green of the trees. Another birdwatcher had kindly passed his binoculars to Llew and together they shared the deep excitement of having spotted another rare species in the Canadian woodland. That evening, we drove as far as the village of Lake Louise, but we decided to save exploration of the lake for the following day.

The Bow Falls and the Cascade Gardens:
That was when we followed yet another trail along another bank of the Bow and arrived at the Bow Falls.

Quite unimpressive really, the trek to these falls followed the serene banks of the turquoise river until we reached the rapids and we realized why they are called “white water” rapids. As the rivers churned ferociously over the little embankments on the bed, it created miniature falls that would be loads of fun if one were in a rubber dinghy.

This trek also afforded us our first glimpse of the famous Banff Springs Hotel (left) at which we had a reservation for lunch later that afternoon.
That morning, we also visited Canada Place, a rather nice stone building at the end of Banff Avenue.

Though we only visited the interior briefly, we spent a great deal of time in the lovely Cascade Gardens (left) outside that we were privileged to see in their full summer glory. Indeed August is the best time to visit gardens in Western Canada and since both of us are such lovers of gardening, we had a marvelous time strolling among the raised beds that were planted thickly (50,000 plants each year!) with an abundance of annuals—petunias, impatiens, snapdragons, dahlias, geraniums, begonias and poppies in the most amazing shapes and colors, even early asters, created a riot of color in that lovely space. Woven between a rippling brook and lilting fountains, these beds made of natural stone from the neighboring mountains, were punctuated by arches, bridges and curving walkways. Overall, discovering the Cascade Gardens was an unexpected treat and one we enjoyed immensely.

Lunch at and Tour of the Banff Springs Hotel:
But soon it was time to return to our lodging to change into more formal clothes. Our treks had worked up quite an appetite for our lunch appointment at the grand Banff Springs Hotel which we reached by a winding drive along a mountain road. At the Bow River Grill that overlooked the mountains and the Bow Valley below, we found ourselves overwhelmed by the choices available at the buffet table. Determined to try out the local game, we tasted elk burgers, medallions of Canadian buffalo, venison steaks in a Bordelaise sauce and roasted wild boar. Every single meat was so succulently cooked that it seemed to melt in our mouths and each one tasted completely different, the accompanying sauces simmered long and slowly to extract every last bit of flavor. Though we started with Coconut Coated Tiger Shrimp, freshly-harvested mussels gently steamed in white wine and served in a raspberry cream sauce and Buffalo chicken wings, we made sure that we savored each course slowly and left room for dessert. Indeed, the selection of sweets was quite astounding and as we relished the Tri-Chocolate Terrine, the Mango Mousse, the Mocha Cheesecake and something called Hello Dollies (a delicious combination of cookie crumbs, roasted nuts, chocolate chips and caramel sauce), we felt so stuffed we could barely stand, leave alone follow a guide for what was a guided tour of the “Castle” as the hotel is called.
The Banff Springs Hotel is one of the great Rocky “mountain lodges” and Canadians are fiercely proud of these posh heritage buildings that sprouted after the hot sulphur springs were discovered in the Rockies at the end of the nineteenth century. Perched on the mountainside and completely enveloped by stately conifers, the hotel cuts an imposing figure with its stone siding and its gabled roofs in shades of verdigris. As hordes of people poured into the West Country to “take the waters”, urged on by the creation of the Canadian Pacific Railway that finally reached the west coast, Canadian entrepreneurs and hoteliers such as Van Horne, originally from the highlands of Scotland, saw a new way to tempt them into the wilds by creating super-luxurious accommodations that would provide every possible creature comfort. The thistle, Scotland’s national flower was the recurrent motif throughout the castle seen woven into the carpets, on mosaic tiled floors, on wrought-iron doors, etc. As we explored the massive environs of the hotel, gasped at the huge size of the rooms designed in Medieval, Tudor and Al-Hambra styles, their fittings and accoutrements, the Victorian conservatory with its pretty trellis overlooking the golf links, not to mention the stunning views from every curtained casement, we realized why the Rockies developed as rapidly as they did into the playground of the rich and famous. Today, many visitors arrive in Banff and Jasper on the Rocky Mountaineer, a deluxe train that provides its passengers with accommodations for a couple of nights in these fancy hotels and allows them to experience the grandeur of the mountains in the same comfortable way that their predecessors once did.

Exploring Lake Louise and Moraine Lake:
That afternoon, replete with a meal that had proven to be incredible value for money, we took the Trans-Canada Highway to Lake Louise. And what a sight awaited us at the end of that one hour drive! As Llew picturesquely put it, “Lake Louise is one of God’s masterpieces!” Indeed even if one were an atheist, one would have to accept that only a Higher Being could create so stunning a scene (left). The lake, aquamarine and mirror-clear, sits at the base of Victoria Glacier that soars behind it. Framing the lake on two sides are twin mountains. The stark white of the glacier, the aqua-blue of the lake and the emerald green of the pine-draped mountains combine to create a sight so breathtaking that it is no wonder that it is has become iconic in Canada and is used on most posters advertising Canadian tourism. Named after one of Queens Victoria’s daughters, the lakefront is like a magnet drawing visitors to capture futilely its indescribable beauty on celluloid. After we posed for pictures together with busloads of other visitors, we started to walk along Lake Louise’s famed shoreline, but alas, it began to drizzle big fat drops that caused expanding rings in the water. We weren’t able to complete our ambitious plans to reach the Teahouse at the end of the hike, but we did nip into the lovely and very luxurious Chateau Lake Louise, a beige building on the edge of the lake, another wonderful “Mountain Lodge” that is as famous as the one in Banff.
With evening swiftly descending upon us, we took the meandering mountainside detour towards Moraine Lake, a less visited but, in our opinion, no less startling lake. Indeed Moraine Lake is encircled by the peaks of the Ten Sisters, a chain of mountains that seem so close that you can be fooled into reaching out and touching them. The cobalt blue of the water at Lake Moraine has to be seen to be believed and though we spent a great amount of film trying to capture that dazzling shade, we simply don’t feel as if we were able to do justice to it at all. Choosing to see the lake from an interesting vantage point, we hiked up to an overview which also gave us an opportunity to see a pika, a small rodent-like creature with the cutest round ears and no tail!
Our strenuous treks that day led us straight to a trendy Western-style club called Wild Bill’s Legendary Saloon where we chilled to country and western music from a live group called Chronic from Edmonton over cold Canadian Molson beer.

Biking to Sundance Canyon and the Cave and Basin National Historic Site:

Early the next morning, we breakfasted heartily and headed for the rental bike store on Bear Road. There, outfitted with suitably-sized bikes, helmets and trouser straps, we headed on the Cave and Basin Trail towards Sundance Canyon. To say that these two hours spent pedaling into the wilds was exhilarating is to say the least. As we biked out of town, we circled the Cave and Basin National Historic Site (which we would stop to visit later) following the banks of the incredibly blue Bow River, past the dog-toothed peak of Mount Norquay (which we would climb later than day) and luxuriant coniferous forests towards Sundance Canyon way in the distance. Most of the trail went downhill, providing us with some fantastic speedy runs that brought the wind rushing into our faces. Llew and I enjoyed every single second of this thrilling bike ride and chose to take the Marsh Loop on our way back to town, passing vast wetlands full of bird life and a number of kayaks and canoes with enthusiastic rowers on the river who waved to us as we pedaled.
At the end of a two hour bike ride, just before we turned them in to the rental store, we visited the Cave and Basin National Historic Site, a most interesting place that is perched on the mountainside and conceals the original hot thermal sulphur springs that first brought visitors to the parks. Known only to the native Stoney Indians for centuries, the secret was shared with employees of the Canadian Pacific Railways who instantly thought of capitalizing on their find. By 1886, the Banff Hot Springs were perceived as therapeutic. The earliest visitors rowed along the Bow River, then climbed the strenuous reaches to get into the springs for repeated dips. Today, the springs, set at the base of a dark and circular rock cave, are only open as a museum exhibit. One can still see the waters steaming gently in the mountain air but no one is allowed to plunge in anymore. We had to save that experience for later in the day. But we also enjoyed the exhibit in the museum that quoted the words of early explorers in the Canadian Rockies who were enchanted by the landscape and waxed eloquent about it in their journals. A.P. Coleman, for instance, visiting in the 1880’s, wrote that being in such virgin country was “like catching Nature unawares in the act of Creation”.
Indeed, with our bikes returned, we hurried off to meet Llew’s friends from Karachi, Birchman and Vicki Pereira who drove up from Red Deer near Edmonton to spend some time with us at Banff together with their grand-kids Madeline and Brandon. They drove us up Mount Norquay for a bird-eye’s view of Banff Township that slept quietly in the watery sunshine.

Soaking in the Banff Upper Hot Springs:

Birchman and Vicki then suggested that we give ourselves up to the soothing delights of the Banff Upper Hot Springs, a large pool (left)that opened by the 1920s to accommodate the overflow of visitors that poured into the mountains for sulphur soaks. Driving up the mountain roads, we arrived at the lockers where we rented old-fashioned swimsuits (dating from the 1920’s) and joined a large number of visitors who enjoyed the steaming waters. This giant bath-tub reminded us very much of a similar soak we had taken last year at Budapest, Hungary, in the Scezeni Hot Springs, a Hungarian past-time that is enjoyed by young and old. This Canadian experience was made special by the fact that we were surrounded by lofty mountain peaks and the fresh scent of spruce trees. Then, having worked up an appetite for lunch, we settled down at East Express for large plates of Chinese foods that allowed us to catch up on our lives and reminisce about mutual friends.
Later that afternoon, we drove to Lake Minnewanka, a large artificial lake, created from glacial run-off, that provides the region with drinking water. Boat rides are available on the lake, but, once again, developing rain sent us scrambling back to town. Mercifully, the weather cleared up by the time we reached the Strip, allowing us to arm ourselves with ice-cream sundaes and browse together in the shops such as The Bear and Butterfly where a great amount of native Canadian Indian pottery, ammonite jewelery, jade figurines carved from local Rocky Mountain stone, etc. were quite enticing indeed.

Driving along the Tunnel Mountain Loop:
When our friends left, Llew and I spent the evening on another driving tour, this time heading out of town towards the Tunnel Mountain Loop. It was a long weekend in Canada and the parks were filling up fast that Friday evening with a caravan of RV trailers that climbed the mountain to find parking in the many campgrounds that dot the area far from pedestrian traffic. We stopped along the Hoodoo Trail to see the peculiar limestone formations up close, viewed Tunnel Mountain that loomed large ahead of us, spied the Banff Springs Hotel in the distance beyond the reach of the minor tributaries that laced the landscape picturesquely. Then, we continued our drive to Surprise Corner on the other side of the mountain where the Banff Springs Hotel sprang hugely into focus on the opposite bank of the Bow River while the rapids churned deafeningly below. Soon, we were returning to town and settling down to a slap-up dinner at the well-touted Maple Leaf Grille and Spirits where we ordered bison tenderloin stroganoff and apple crusted roast pork loin. Exhausted by our tireless activity of the day, we gratefully returned to the comfort of our lodge.

On the Icefields Parkway to Jasper:
We fully enjoyed our days in Banff and were sorry to leave the peaceful serenity of this unique settlement, but we also anticipated eagerly our arrival in Jasper National Park via the famous Icefields Parkway. Not for nothing is the Icefields Parkways known as one of the world’s most scenic
highways. North of Banff, the landscape gets progressively more awe-inspiring as even higher mountain chains come into view. Ice-encrusted for the most part, due to the slow accumulation of snow over centuries, these heights are breath-taking. The drive from Banff to Jasper would normally take about four hours; but if the visitor stops, as we did, at every natural wonder and scenic lookout point, it could take anywhere between 10 and 13 hours. We left Banff at 9.30 after breakfast and arrived in Jasper only at 6pm. Since we are great believers in the adage that one ought to enjoy the journey as much as the destination, we made every important stop, scaled every challenging precipice, descended into every extraordinary ravine, and, much to our profound joy, walked on glaciers.

Visiting Bow Lake, Crowfoot Glacier, Peyto Lake and the Mistaya Canyon:
The first few stops along the Icefields Parkway took us to spell-binding lakes and canyons. Take Bow Lake, for instance, where the waters were so still that the lake created perfect mirror images of the mountains and glaciers that ringed it. We also saw Crowfoot Glacier that is fast receding due to global warming. One of the crow’s toes has disappeared completely though it did exist until the 1960’s. To reach Peyto Lake, we had to hike up a steep incline past the tree line and into Alpine Tundra where we encountered meadows just chockfull of wild flowers such as Indian Paintbrush, a spikey flower whose color changes from red to pink to orange at different times during the season (hence its colorful name!). Though the trek was challenging in the extreme, we were rewarded by the sight of the most marvelous jade green lake sitting quietly in the silent valley below. Luckily, we were blessed by an amazingly temperate day that despite the long climbs and intense waking did not leave us spent.
It wasn’t long before we learned the reason for the incredible color of these mountain waters. Fed by glaciers, these rivers and lakes carry with them a massive amount of eroded material or glacial silt that stays suspended just below the surface of the water. Called “rock flour”, it is these tiny particles that glimmer in the sunlight and give the rivers and lakes their jewel-like green-blue colors. Llew, as always, drove expertly along the curving hairpin bends of the mountain road, but I often felt sorry for him as he seemed to miss the glorious landscape from which I just could not take away my eyes.
A few miles later, we were at the Mistaya Canyon, a natural formation to which one descends down a steep mountain path. Needless to say, I did not relish the thought of climbing back up to the surface. However, once we were at the base, we were completely taken by the narrow but very deep canyon that the Mistaya River has cut into the limestone crags of rock. Surrounded by the gushing waters of the river, the rest of the world seemed to stand still for us as we listened to the constant roar of gallons of water tumbling over giant boulders. Since we paused to read the many signs that explained natural phenomena to us along these interpretative trails, the ascent to the top did not seem half as frightful as I had expected and it was with renewed energy that we set out in the invigorating air for the remainder of our journey to Jasper.

Visit to the Icefields Center and the Athabasca Glacier:
Soon we arrived at the Icefields Center, an oddity of sorts in the midst of that unspoiled mountain scenery. A squat building that was built as recently as 2000, the Icefields Center is the starting point for any kind of excursion to the Athabasca Glacier that sits right opposite it. Giant snowmobiles transport visitors to the surface of the glacier allowing them to walk upon it at leisure for the princely sum of $35 per head. We preferred the challenge, however, of climbing on to the glacier (for free) and we set out right after we had eaten our picnic lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches. We drove our car as far as the parking lot, then began the slow ascent up the glacier.

As we covered the extensive landmass, we saw signs telling us how far up the road the glacier had existed in the year 1880. Soon we were able to see where it had shrunk by 1900, where it had stood by 1920 and so forth, until we did finally reach the present freezing heights. This was a slow but steady climb and the temperature got progressively colder. Fortunately, we had known that we’d be walking on glaciers that day and we had taken precautions to dress really warmly.
In about an hour, we were standing on the frozen icy floor of the Athabasca Glacier (above left), a truly formidable experience. It was hard to believe that this body of frozen ice has existed for centuries. Even as we watched, we saw rivulets of icy water making their way into the streams at the base—a sure indication that global warming is affecting the thickness and density of these glacial deposits. Llew and I could not but remember that a few years ago, we were walking on solid lava that had been left behind by active volcanoes in Volcanoes National Park in Hawaii. Now here we stood walking on ice and the striking contrast was not lost on us. After we had taken pictures, trying in vain to capture the majesty of the glaciers and the frozen ice-covered mountains that surrounded us, we slowly made our way back to the car, filled with such a sense of awe that both of us were speechless.

The Sunwapta Falls and the Athabasca Falls:
Banff National Park is pockmarked with canyons and waterfalls, some not very impressive, others deeply stirring. The Sunwapta Falls and the Athabasca Falls, for instance, were really nothing to write home about but they made us aware of the many rivers that crisscross this territory—the Bow, the Miette, the Saskatchewan, the Mistaya, the Sunwapta and the Athabasca. Canada has carefully retained the original native Indian names of all these rivers and the park rangers try hard to instill in visitors the same respect for the environment that characterized the behavior of the earliest human settlers in this region, the Athabasca Indians.
Another few miles later, we found ourselves skirting around Jasper National Park. Mount Edith Cavell came into view and in the distance, we could see Mount Robson, the highest peak in the Rockies. But just before we entered Jasper Township, we spied herds of elk, all sunning themselves in the late evening light, quite oblivious to the presence of delighted visitors who stopped frequently to take pictures.
When we did arrive in Jasper after a very strenuous day spent climbing up and down canyons and dampened by the spray of thundering waterfalls, we found our accommodation very easily and settled down with Gord Antonius, the park ranger who offered us several wildlife guides to the Rockies and welcome information on where to go out in search of dinner. We settled for a Greek meal of dolmas (rice stuffed grape leaves, my favorite), donner kebab and spankopita (spinach and feta cheese in phyllo pastry, Llew’s favorite) at Something Else, a restaurant that afforded us lovely views of Patricia Street, the main artery that runs through the township. Exhausted from our adventures of that day, we ate heartily and slept as soundly as hibernating bears!

Exploring Jasper:
Since our accommodation did not offer breakfast, we went out in search of it and at Gord’s recommendation, arrived at the Bear’s Paw, one of the world’s most-reputed bakeries, if you went by the long lines that reached well outside the doors! And we could see why. Inside was a mouth-watering array of breads and scones, bagels, muffins, sandwiches, Danish pastries and pies. It was next to impossible to make a choice from the enticing possibilities, but we stocked up on both breakfast and lunch items with the idea of picnicking at leisure for the rest of the day. With cups of steaming coffee and hot chocolate, we drove out to discover Jasper heading first for Patricia Lake and Pyramid Lake by whose placid shores we munched on muffins and sipped our warming drinks. Fuelled for the rest of our day, we walked across the short bridge that led to Pyramid Island, so-called because it sits in the massive shadow of Pyramid Mountain. Popular with wedding couples as the perfect spot for their pictures, this little island in the middle of the lake was a quiet haven. On the lake, we could hear the quiet swish-swish of paddles from the occasional canoe that was out on the water.

Napping at the bottom of Maligne Canyon:
Though it was hard to drag ourselves away from such tranquility, we were soon driving towards the famous Maligne (Maleen) Canyon where we had to undertake another long and challenging descent downhill. Steeply carved in the mountain face, this trail required the hiker to cross six bridges that connected one side of the canyon with the other at different intervals. All the time, one enjoyed the damp but cool environment created by rushing water and the virtual lack of sunshine, thanks to tall vegetation. In fact, moss grew everywhere and made a soothing green carpet as we negotiated our way up and down those craggy rocks. When we got to the base, I was so tired that I promptly curled up on the rocks by the waterside and took a short nap. Lulled by the rushing waters, the sharp rock face staring at me just ahead, the towering branches of aspen trees and the occasional cheep cheep of birds, I enjoyed one of the nicest naps I have ever taken as Llew went off in search of the sixth suspension bridge even further down in the valley. I have taken naps during my travels in rather unlikely places and I know that this is one I will not forget.

Medicine Lake and Maligne Lake:
Soon we were in our car again bending and curving around the many U-turns of the mountain roads on our way to Maligne Lake. But before we reached there, we passed by the almost dry beds of Medicine Lake, so-called by the Indians because it “disappeared” during some parts of the year and the Indians believed that this had to do with spells cast by their medicine men! It was here that we encountered a whole herd of long-horned mountain sheep right in the middle of the road. All traffic slowed down to allow the lazy animals to pass by, though several cars stopped to take pictures.

Joining the curious hordes, Llew was rewarded for his interest by a ram who came right up to him to smell his palm, nuzzling it affectionately, much to Llew’s astonishment and delight (left)!
When we had quite recovered from the joy of seeing so much wildlife seemingly so tame, we continued on our drive to Maligne Lake, a large expanse of water on which all kinds of water-sports are practiced such as kayaking, canoeing, water-skiing, etc. It was on the banks of this lake that we ate our picnic sandwiches and then decided to take short naps, as much to enjoy the calm serenity of the landscape as to rest from our exhausting treks of the morning. Little did we know that we had one more challenging hike ahead of us yet!

Riding the Jasper Tramway to Whistler Summit:
Yes, within a short while, we were re-tracing our steps and driving back to Jasper Township in search of the Jasper Tramway, a cable car that whisks visitors up to the mountain tops to experience the eerie stillness of altitudes that only mountain-climbers can dream of conquering. For the sum of $23 each, we bought tramway tickets and patiently waited our turn to board our “flight”. When we did start to rise high above sea level, the outline of the town of Jasper—a very clear J-shape–became evident. Even higher, we passed the tree line and began to ascend into tundra altitudes where the only vegetation capable of growing in the dry and icy air is lichen and moss. At this point, we had dramatic overviews of the mountainscape below, the occasional lakes that punctuate the landmass, and the Athabasca River that flows through the township. When we alighted from the tram car, we could have stayed right there and elected to return to the base whenever we pleased.
But, of course, we were not content with doing that and next thing you knew, we were scaling the steep sides of Whistler Mountain to try to get up to the very summit, several hundred feet above us. This was a long, steep and very challenging climb indeed and we did it slowly. Though we’re both in great shape, thanks to all the workouts we do all year round, I found myself huffing and puffing with the effort and had to rest frequently on our journey to the summit. By this point, the crowds had thinned out as only a few people felt strong enough to encounter such heights. Not to be daunted, we continued along the way, struck by the sheer silence of those peaks. We had 360 degree views of the mountains, snow-sprinkled and dazzling in the dying rays of the sun. Twilight brought an almost magical quality to the mountains and combined with the silence, I felt as if I were in an other-worldly place. Heaven must feel like this, I thought to myself, as my eyes roamed over the most pristine landscape as rocks, mountains, rivers, and lakes combined to create an effect that was so phenomenal, it brought quiet tears to my eyes. When Llew left me to climb even higher, I sat back on a giant rock and listened to the awesome sound of silence and, believe me, I felt transported somewhere beyond our earth–almost to another planet.

This, for me at least (left) , was one of the most unexpectedly moving of experiences on this trip and I know that I will never be able to forget my feelings as I stood on the summit of Whistler Mountain with nothing but the companionship of friendly mountains enveloping me.
All to soon, with the light quickly fading, we made our way back to base camp, took the tramcar and arrived at Jasper in search of dinner as both of us were starving by that point. Though we had many choices, we elected to eat at L&W Family Restaurant, because the way it was written, it looked like LEW Family Restaurant. We could not have made a better choice. The Alberta Prime Rib that we ordered was so astonishingly good, it reminded us of the scenes in Brokeback Mountain where the main characters are cowboys keeping watch on herds of Alberta cattle! I understood that story then…I understood why the stark loneliness of the landscape would convert even the straightest of people into homosexuals—so great, I figured, would be the need for compatible companionship, if one were in the great outdoors for weeks on end with no other human being in sight. Indeed, the landscape can be more than a little frightening in its stark silence. There is a terrible beauty about the place which begs for a loved one to share it with and I was glad to have Llew with me, appreciating every crag, every corner, every curve.

Journey to Calgary:
The next day marked our return to reality. I had come close to having a supernatural experience on the mountain-tops. So, it was with a heavy heart that I packed my bag the next day to undertake our drive back to Banff and from there on to Calgary where we needed to return our rental car.
Perhaps it was the spirituality of our environs which made me react as uncharacteristically as I did, but when we spotted a hitch-hiker standing on the side of the road with a sign that said “Banff”, I urged Llew to stop and pick him up. Now we had never ever done anything of the kind on all our travels as we know better than to subject ourselves to the company of some smelly stranger or, worse yet, someone with a gun bent on robbing us. But Llew was persuaded and turn around we did to pick up Toby, who turned out to be a 29-year old German trainee fire-fighter who had arrived in the Rockies to do some serious mountain-climbing. Well, he was so grateful for the ride and for our Bear’s Paw goodies that we shared with him for breakfast. Well-educated and well-traveled around the globe, Toby regaled us with fascinating stories of his travels as our car ate up the miles. At times, I dozed off, lulled by the constant beauty of the passing landscape and the soft purring of the engine. Before we knew it, we were in Canmore, dropping Toby off at his request, then setting off on the last lap of our journey towards Calgary where we attempted to find our River Wynde Executive Bed and Breakfast where we had made arrangements to spend the night. Our hostess Diane checked us in, showed us into our “Earth Room”, where we stashed out stuff and went out in search of the city.

The next lap of our travels in Alberta showed us the city of Calgary. Please click on the link to join our exploration.

Bahamas

Apr12

Bahamas

Cruisin’ in the Caribbean!

At Port Lucaya in the Grand Bahamas

We boarded our cruise ship, Discovery Sun, at 6 am the next morning at Port Everglades in Fort Lauderdale. Since neither Llew nor I are too keen on cruises (we like to be in control of where we go and what we do while on vacation), we decided to try a day cruise to the Bahamas to see whether we were really “cruise people” and to find out what the Caribbean Islands were really like. We weren’t sure what to expect but in my mind’s eye, I saw the gorgeous lush landscape of Hawai’i and expected a replica of the South Pacific Islands in the West Indies. I was very much mistaken.

When we did coast into Freeport, the landscape showed gray boulders and skimpy tall pines. There was none of the abundant foliage that I had so loved about Hawai’i. We decided to reserve judgment, however, until we’d seen more of the Grand Bahamas. This, we discovered quickly enough, was a complete misnomer. The island is not grand in any way other than the fact that it is the largest of the group of islands that comprise the Bahamas! After two humongous meals on board (buffet breakfast and lunch that offered every opportunity to indulge) and some serious sun-bathing, we were ready for a dip and elected to take the Beach and Shopping Package that the Cruise Director recommended.

As soon as we disembarked from the ship, we found ourselves in an area that offered absolutely nothing to the visitor. It was necessary to rent a private taxi to get anywhere on the island. Since our package included transportation by air-conditioned vans, we were left stress free, but we did wonder at the fact that in 80 plus degree heat, the taxi drivers were dressed impeccably in long-sleeved shirts and ties!

About twenty minutes later, we were at Taino Beach where we settled into Taino by the Sea Beach Resort and tasted our first sips of the famous cocktail called The Bahama Mama. A really potent libation made with dark rum and fruit juices, we took our drinks in hand and walked out on to our private beach where we were struck by the purity of the white sands. In fact, the sand is so deceptively white that some of it was sold as sugar by unscrupulous dealers during World War II. The white sands were contrasted fiercely by the dark, smiling faces of the hotel staff and the local people who were gracious and kind and very proud of their island. We enjoyed strolling along the pristine beach but when we dipped our toes tentatively in the water, we discovered that it was much too cold for our liking. This explained why there weren’t too many people frolicking in the waves though there were water scooters a-plenty and other fun ways to enjoy the ocean.

Strolling around our resort (left), we saw water slides and a beautiful kidney-shaped pool with floating mattress for sunbathers and pool-side service for swimmers. The hotel itself was a lovely tropical wooden building painted in bright island colors. Flower arrangements in the hotel featured exotic tropical flowers such as hibiscus and Birds of Paradise.

We did indulge in some sun-bathing and zipping around on a water scooter (left) but soon it was time to get into the “water-taxi” (below right), a large launch, organized by our day trip personnel that took us to Port Lucaya past a picturesque lighthouse and more snazzy resorts.

The Port Lucaya Straw Market consists of a cluster of duty-free shops that offer pricey indulgences in the form of watches and jewelery, perfumes and electronics—the sort of baubles you find at duty-free stores in airports.

However, the Straw Market (left) was by far the more interesting part of the shopping adventure for me, offering locally made handicrafts featuring shells and straw hats, gaily printed skirts and home furnishings such as tablecloths and cushion covers and other cheaper tourist trinkets. Interspersed among the shops were a number of restaurants offering Bahamian cuisine such as conch fritters and bars with every possible fruity libation. Shop fronts were gaily colored and decorated in “island style” characterized by strong geometric patterns.

There was a casino called the Isle of Capri for those looking to woo Lady Luck and a number of cafes and bodegas offering light refreshment. In keeping with its past British colonial heritage, there were red pillar telephone booths in Freeport and Lucaya (right). I was fascinated by the crisp accents of the vendors who spoke exactly as educated Indians in Bombay do—put this down too to the British legacy. Roads were beautifully paved and maintained and there was not a piece of paper tossed on the streets. I did not see the face of poverty anywhere on that sparsely populated island of 45, 000 souls. The people were not well-off, by any means, but they were not in want either. This was our little taste of the Caribbean and far from inducing us to return to the Islands, we think we’ve already had our fill of the West Indies.

Before we knew it, our day of exploration had ended and boarding the vans again, we returned dockside for our cruise back to the Florida mainland. This time, dinner served on board kept us sated as did a wonderful evening of entertainment featuring a Caribbean cabaret singer who did some wonderful soca songs and a hilarious stand-up comedian who kept us in splits. By the time we returned to Fort Lauderdale, after witnessing a spectacular sunset over the ocean, we were ready to call it a day.

Bon Voyage!

North America

Apr12

(This map shows all the states in the United States that I have visited so far–in red. To create a similar personalized map for yourself, click on the link below and follow the prompts.

Visited States Map

How does one introduce North America? A part of the globe that was most recently “discovered”, this hulking sub-continent defies description. Comprising just three countries, yet occupying a substantial part of the world’s total land mass, North America is enigmatic.

Over the past two decades, I have explored its varied landscapes and have never ceased to be fascinated. From the pristine grandeur of the glacial Candian Rockies to the steaming volcanoes of Hawai’s Big Island, from the steaming bodegas of Mexico to the glacial glances of snazzy sales personnel in the ultra-ritzy shopping arcades of the United States, North America offers a gamut of experiences.

Having been based on the East Coast of the USA, my initital travels were confined to the North Atlantic corridor. Over the years, I have explored far beyond domestic reaches, venturing into the West Coast regions of California and Nevada. One trip saw the Almeidas cover the native American culture of the rugged Southwest from Santa Fe in New Mexico to Phoenix in Arizona. On another adventure, we traversed the Midwest to see Ohio and Kentucky. Yet another tour took us to Florida where we scoped out the length and breath of the state, imbibing its colonial Spanish and contemporary Italian ambience. All over the former thirteen colonies from the northernmost boundaries of New England to the graciousness of the Carolinas, we have followed in the footsteps of pioneers from the Pilgrims to the Huguenots. In the process, we’ve savored every taste of this bubbling melting pot that is the United States.

Not content with the offerings of this huge country, we’ve crossed north and south of the American border to take it the vast mileage of Canada and the quaintness of Mexico. Apart from breathing in the big city wonders of Toronto and Vancouver, we’ve enjoyed the charming fragility of Quebec City and the French ethos of Montreal. We’ve hiked and biked our way through the Rocky Mountains at mighty National Parks in Banff and Jasper and enjoyed the decidedly British feel of stately Victoria.

Leaving behind me the land-line crossing of San Diego in California, I took a cruise to the Mexican border city of Encenada in Baja California where the spirit of Old Mexico City was very much in evidence. I have yet to discover the intriguing hinterland of this once-propserous Spanish colony and do look forward to such a visit at a future date.

What never fails to amaze me is the difference in landscape, culture, accent and lifestyle that one encounters in each part of this massive sub-continent. You need drive only two miles out to enter a different world altogether. Whether it is the glistening white beaches of Florida or the golden sands of Hawai’i, the cacophonic waters of the Niagara Falls or the eerie silence of the Grand Canyon, the golden lushness of autumn in Vermont or the virginal purity of freshly fallen snowscapes in Connecticut–there are natural vistas galore to enjoy. Whether it is enchiladas or endive spears, ratatouille or rogan josh, sushi or smorgasbord, one can find it in North America in the cute wayside eateries that pockmark the highways or the Michelin starred restaurants run by five-star chefs.

What’s not to love about North America?

Join me now on a leisurely armchair sojourn. Pause frequently to browse through pictures as you cross the many longitudes and time zones that comprise these pages.

I have completed pages on The South, Florida, Hawai’i and the Canadian Rockies so far. Look for British Columbia including Vancouver, Victoria and Seattle very shortly.

Bon Voyage!

Rochelle's Roost

Welcome to Holly Berry House!

Archives

Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz: City by the Sea

San Francisco

Napa Valley

Napa Valley: Heart of California Wine Country

Muir Woods

Muir Woods: Home of California’s Giant Redwoods

Berkeley

Berkeley: California’s Historic University Town

California

Vancouver

Elegant Canadian City

Calgary

Canadian Rockies

Bahamas

Bahamas

Cruisin’ in the Caribbean!

North America