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The baby aspirin years

~ Ms. Boice falls in love, travels and eats her way through life in the post-40 years.

The baby aspirin years

Category Archives: Trips

The Tree Tomato Welcomed Me to Ecuador

28 Sunday Apr 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

Ecuador, ecuadorians, Food, international food, Quito, tomato juice, travel, tree tomato

I’m in love with the tree tomato.  Really in love with it. It was my first greeting from Ecuador, as it was the first thing I tasted that was new to me. It told me that I had arrived in a foreign country.

We were at breakfast at the Turi Quindi Guest House in the Los Chillos Valley, just southeast of Quito and about 40 minutes from the new Quito Airport. Since we had to go back to the airport in the morning to catch our flight to Coca (see earlier post about our travel to Sacha Lodge), it didn’t make sense to make the long and arduous journey into Quito. The new airport had only been open a month, but there are no hotels nearby nor is the new main highway to the airport anywhere near completion.

Needless to say, not just visitors, but Ecuadorians are also peeved about it.

Yet, I’m not sure I would have gotten a lovely breakfast like I did at the the Turi Quindi Guest house had we gone into Quito. This family-run guest house has beautiful grounds and a wonderful breakfast. The grandmother makes breakfast and serves your eggs any way you’d like. I didn’t know Spanish for “scrambled,” but a simple wacky hand gesture of crazy whipping in circles got the point across.

But it was the juice that caught my attention. Steve and I couldn’t figure out what it was. We were guessing and then popped in one of the sons, Jose Andres, who pointed out that it was tree tomato, or Tamarillo.

It was like a tomato juice but sweeter.

Juan-Andres holds up a tree tomato, also known as a Tamarillo

Jose-Andres holds up a tree tomato, also known as a Tamarillo

Tree Tomato Juice

Tree Tomato Juice

Later on during our trip, I would have tree tomato juice again (at Sacha Lodge), have it as a dessert (Tandayapa Lodge) where the cook had baked it in cinnamon and some sugary syrup (sigh), and as a salsa on top of baked chicken at a hotel in Quito.

Oh tree tomato, I love you.

And I miss you terribly.

Tree Tomatoes at Otavalo Market

Tree Tomatoes at Otavalo Market

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The Amazon and Sacha Lodge: Getting there is half the fun (as long as there are toilets)

12 Friday Apr 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 23 Comments

Tags

Amazon, birding, birds, Ecuador, Napo River, nature, Sacha Lodge, South America, travel, Wildlife

It had been a long day already. We flew from Quito, the capital of Ecuador, to a city called Coca, which actually was bigger than I thought it would be. I expected a little town with only a dilapidated tin-roofed store where a few locals would hang out, sipping colas. I imagined it quiet and sleepy.  Instead, it was a city with busy streets—one right after another, in a proper grid—where people took their lives in their hands when they crossed the street. There was a man in the middle of one street juggling three machetes. (Note to self: Don’t cross the street there.) Taxis zoomed by, cars were hurriedly negotiating the streets without much concern for anyone else (in other words, get out of the way), and a fish market with a long row of vendors cutting and displaying their catch took up two blocks, attracting a multitude of buyers. This was not a quiet, sleepy town.

I was in one taxi and Steve was in another. I don’t know what taxi our bags were in. The folks from Sacha Lodge had met us at the airport and quickly shuffled a group of us—six new arrivals—in random taxis as if we were planning to escape the country in a hurry. Yes, in taxis. At the edge of the Amazon Rainforest. With Gangnam Style blaring on the radio of our taxi.

That’s how I arrived in the Amazon Rainforest.

Coca is actually Puerto Francisco de Orellana, the capital of the Orellana province in Eastern Ecuador, and is located right where the Coca River meets the Napo River. We were there to take a motorized canoe on the Napo River (the largest tributary that feeds into the great Amazon River) to get to Sacha Lodge.

Excited to begin our adventure in the Amazon

Excited to begin our adventure in the Amazon

We’re totally in the Amazon!

It had just occurred to me that morning that we were going to the Amazon. A place on this planet I never thought I’d ever visit. Mostly because it’s my husband’s fault. Had I not met him, I would probably just do artsy-fartsy stuff like go to museums, tour old European villages and lounge around on sandy beaches reading a book.

No, none of that. Instead, he’s lured me into adventure travel via global birding.  Yes, bird watching is pretty badass. (See my other blog, The AccidentalBirder, where I documented about when we needed armed guards in Belize while we went birding and chasing a swarm of army ants in Panama. Yes, totally badass.)

We didn’t have our luggage on our canoe ride. It was all taken to Sacha Lodge ahead of time so it would be waiting for us in our cabin. (Sacha Lodge is owned by the Swiss.  I would expect nothing less from the Swiss.)

When you arrive at the airport a person from Sacha Lodge puts tags on all your luggage. They're very organized.

When you arrive at the airport a person from Sacha Lodge puts tags on all your luggage. They’re very organized.

After my rear end was numb from the two-hour canoe ride we then arrived at what I thought was our final destination.

Hooray! We're here! Actually, not really.

Hooray! We’re here! Actually, not really.

Getting there is half the fun, or so the saying goes.  Well, that’s only if there’s also a bathroom on that journey. Thankfully, there was a bathroom (flushing toilets!), which I ran to once the canoe docked. There was even toilet paper. (Aw, those Swiss think of everything.)

Now, there’s a reason there’s a bathroom here. Turns out our journey’s not done.  We then had to walk about a mile in the jungle. Over a boardwalk laden path and sometimes over the swamp. Awesome! Kind of.

This trail became known affectionately by others (and us) as the Death March. This was not the only time we would walk this path.

This trail became known affectionately by others (and us) as the Death March. This was not the only time we would walk this path. It’s just long and arduous (for me, at least). And doing it at 5 a.m. in the dark in pouring down rain (which is what we did one morning) makes it seem endless.

Once we finished our mile-long walk I thought we’d be at Sacha Lodge. Not yet, folks. We then got into canoes–not motorized this time, but instead two Sacha Lodge guides paddled us to the lodge through a creek for about 20 minutes and to a lake right outside the lodge. And then there it was–Sacha Lodge. Finally.

Praise the Lord. We're here.

Praise the Lord. We’re here.

Our group of six—they call us “newbies”—had a briefing in the main lodge. We were told the food was all safe (meaning we could actually eat salad), there would be morning wake-up calls (knocks on our doors), always be careful where you put your hands (I didn’t want to know) and then I asked my question:

“Uh, what’s the password to the wi-fi?”

The guide giving the briefing chuckled and said, “You’re in the Amazon. There is no wi-fi here. But there is a shared computer where you can pay $5 for 30 minutes, but I think you’ll be fine without the Internet.”

No wi-fi?  What is this? The jungle?

At least we have toilets.

Oooh! Some bonus video here:

To give you an idea of how large the Napo River is, here’s a very short clip of our ride. You’ll notice that it’s about as wide as the Mississippi River (well, for those of you who know all about the Mississippi River).

Napo River

Napo River

This next video shows our arrival at Sacha Lodge on the non motorized canoe. You can hear our guide, Marcelo talking to Steve and asking him if he’d ever seen a Hoatzin (that’s a very strange bird).

Arriving at Sacha Lodge

Arriving at Sacha Lodge

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Yes, I got me some Custom-made boots in Ecuador. Uh-huh. Big surprise.

11 Thursday Apr 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

boots, Ecuador, ecuadorian amazon, fashion, Quito, riding boots, style, travel

“…Oh, and there’s this place in Quito that will custom make boots!”

As soon as Olga said that I perked up. We met Olga and her daughter while staying at Sacha Lodge in the Ecuadorian Amazon. They had spent some time in Quito and my husband and I were listening to their itinerary to get ideas of what to do during our couple days in Quito. But boots! Custom made! 

It’s shoes, my friends.  And when it comes to shoes I just melt into a blob.

The following day on the way to our hotel, I saw it:

El Palacio de le Bota Españolas

El Palacio de le Bota Española

What girl would pass this up?

What girl would pass this up?

Clearly, it was meant to be, since it was only a few blocks from our hotel in La Mariscal neighborhood of Quito. When Steve and I went inside a wave of the musky, leathery smell hit me in the face. Oh, this place smells yummy.  I picked up a tan pair of boots. Nice quality and stitching, I noted to myself. There were cowboy boots, riding boots and fashionable ladies boots with heels of all heights. They were all simply lovely. Steve sat down, obviously uninterested in my shoe shopping. This happens all the time. Last time I went shoe shopping at Nordstrom, this happened:

This boy can sleep anywhere. Even at Nordstrom. Where there are SHOES. Who sleeps when there are SHOES?!

This boy can sleep anywhere. Even at Nordstrom. Where there are SHOES. Who sleeps when there are SHOES?!

An Ecuadorian woman and her husband began showing boots to me. Actually, not just showing them, but putting them in my hands, pulling one after another off the shelf and offering them to me while speaking Spanish, of course. They spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish. There was pointing and grabbing a lot of boots and then I found a pair I really liked–a low heel with a strap and buckle. I put them in the woman’s hands, pointed and nodded my head and said, “Sí!”

Yes, please.

Sí, por favor.

She then took me to the back room where there were remnants of all sorts of leather on a big table. Oh, she wants me to choose my color, I realized. There were many colors of tan, brown and even different shades of black.  And then I saw it: Red

Ahhh, red leather! Yum.

Ahhh, red leather! Yum.

I have to have that red!

I nodded my head, pointed and said the one word I know perfectly in Spanish: “Si!”

Then before I could even leave the back room, the Ecuadorian man brought out a big paper tablet and pointed to pages that had foot outlines drawn on it. Oh, he wants to draw my footprint. Of course!

Wasting no time, I took off my shoes and socks and placed my foot on the paper where the man drew a line around my foot, then pulled out a measuring tape and measured my width, my instep, my ankle and my calves. So old school. So simple. Why can’t all my shoes be made this way?

Didn't we do this in kindergarten? Ahh, good times.

Didn’t we do this in kindergarten? Ahh, good times.

Measure twice, cut once, right?

Measure twice, cut once, right?

¿Cuánto cuesta? I asked. (Okay, I also know how to ask how much something costs. I’m a seasoned shopper, no?)

Originally the woman had written down $180, but then the man pointed to my calves and said, “Grandé.”

Yes, my calves are grandé. You see, that’s the whole problem with me and boots. It’s the grandé calves, and that’s why I was here. But it turns out, having grandé means it costs more. $20 more.

They had me choose the style of my toe (pointed? round? squared?), choose the buckles out of a cardboard box and then I paid a deposit of $50 and from the sign language and my guess at Spanish, figured that it was going to take four days for the boots to be made. No problem, we were heading to the Andes and wouldn’t be back to Quito for seven days.

So for seven days and nights I dreamt about red boots.

On our last day in Ecuador we picked up the boots. They were displayed in the window when I arrived, and that made me secretly happy to know that others might have walked by with envy. I slipped on the boots and the leather was buttery. My foot fit perfectly inside and zzzzzziiiiip! It was easy. Not a struggle at all! And the boots weren’t cutting off my circulation. They felt divine. I purred inside like a kitten.

I now have red boots. Jealous y’all?

Keep your paws of my red boots.

Keep your paws off my red boots.

Here they are: Luis Arias, who made the boots, and his wife who so patiently helped me out in spite of my very lousy Spanish.

Luis A. Arias, Propietaro and his wife

Luis A. Arias, Propietaro and his wife

You, too, can get your own custom-made boots (for men as well as women).

El Palacio de las Botas Españolas
Reina Victoria E7-14 y Wilson
Quito, Ecuador
Telf: 2567 205
email: elpalaciodelasbotasespanolas@hotmail.com
They’re also on Facebook

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A couple tips for traveling with electronics

17 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

3M, blogging, cruise ships, electrical tape, gadgets, organization, photography, Scotch, travel

You’d think I was some great photographer. Or a very popular blogger or tweeter.

Not really any of those.

But if you were to open my travel bags, you’d say, “My goodness, who is this person?”

I tend to travel with so many electronics and cameras that I realize it’s probably impractical. Especially since I’m a novice photographer and just do it for fun, and when I blog from the road it’s just more of the hobby thing. This week we leave on another adventure—to Ecuador—and this time it’s no different. When you have a camera bag as hefty as mine with two DLSRs, an underwater point and shoot, and a Go-Pro-like camera all the cords get mixed up. I don’t have a problem with my white Apple cords (for iPhone and iPad), but it’s all those black cords that cause me great consternation.

And who wants to be consternated on vacation?

Solution: Colorful electrical tape!

The solution to my troubles exists in 3M’s Scotch electrical tape, which I found in the hardware section of a Kmart where they had all these colors conveniently in one package. (Hey, full disclosure here: I actually work for 3M, but I bought these and paid full price for them, just so’s ya know. Plus, I don’t even work in that division, so I’m not doing a shameless promo here.)

Colorful Electrical Tape

Colorful Electrical Tape

With the tape you can color-code your cords. For my Nikon D7000 I use red for the battery charger and for the USB cord. For my other Nikon I use white for both its USB and battery cords. For my Olympus underwater camera I use blue.  You get the picture. Now you don’t have to figure out which cord goes to what gadget.

My color-coded cords

My color-coded cords

Pack a power strip. Trust me, you’ll thank me.

Also, I wouldn’t dream of traveling without a power strip. I have too many electronics and can’t rely on just one or two outlets, which often seems to be the case. Besides lack of outlets in some hotels or other lodging (especially cruise ships), my travel guidebook warned that in Ecuador there are often power outages resulting in power surges, so traveling with a power strip with surge protection can also help with some added insurance.

My one essential travel item

My one essential travel item

Perhaps one day there will truly be one device that can do everything I want it to do, but so far that hasn’t happened. Let’s be honest, I’m just not going to be one of those people taking a photo with my iPad in the jungle.

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Navigating the airport in a wheelchair

01 Friday Feb 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

airlines, airports, disability, disabled, travel, TSA, vacation, wheelchair

My husband and I passed by the long serpentining line of people and we were ushered through a no-waiting line, as if we were VIPs with exclusive privileges beyond the velvet rope. “Hey, this is great!” I told my husband. “It’s way faster doing it this way.”

My special situation got him rushed through as well, but in the end, it really wasn’t fast for me at all. I was navigating an airport in a wheel chair and what should have taken me only 30 minutes to get from curb to gate took me twice as long.

Airport wheel chair

My airport mode of transportation

Search and Rescue had to haul me out of Zion National Park

Search and Rescue had to haul me out of Zion National Park

Forty five days earlier I had broken my leg in Zion National Park followed by surgery (a plate, 2 pins and 5 screws). The accident put me in a wheelchair and eventually on crutches before I finally was able to walk again, yet I still had to travel for work. In fact, I had two business trips and if you think traveling through an airport is a pain, try doing it when disabled.

IMG_1017

Steve, my sherpa

Fortunately, Steve had the flexibility to travel with me and be my sherpa throughout the whole ordeal of travel. The poor guy had to drag both his bags and my bags around and it became no surprise to me that he suffered months of back pain after doing this for both the trips.

The consistency of inconsistency

Moving in front of the TSA line is a joy, yes, but the pat-down is excruciatingly long and arduous. Everything gets swabbed and TSA was never consistent in its procedures. Every airport seemed to do things differently. One airport let me remain sitting in my wheelchair. Another made me stand up–balancing on one leg. Another airport (Orlando) made me go into a little x-ray pod room (quite strange) where I had to sit on a table and they x-rayed my whole body and they gave me a pat down. Was this all really necessary? Another airport’s TSA even asked me to remove my boot, to which I said, “Are you kidding?” and then the agent decided not to pursue it.

I wore this thing for 3 months. Ugh.

I wore this thing for 3 months. Ugh.

While I was being dismantled like a live bomb, my husband was meanwhile trying to collect all our carry-ons (quart-sized bags of liquids, lap top, purse, both our bags) from the conveyor belt like Lucy and Ethel when they worked the chocolate factory on I Love Lucy.

Wheeling around the terminals

When you book your travel you have the option to let the airline know that you are in need of wheelchair assistance. As a result, all airports (a total of four during both business trips) had an agent available when we got off the plane, but it was a little confusing when we first arrived to the airport. Generally, once we arrived at security the airport wheelchair agent could be called on, but there was a wait and was such a pain.

Hats off to the folks who have to wheel those of us around the airport. The only annoying thing was that nearly all of them made me wear the seat belt on their wheel chair. Oh for Pete’s sake, we weren’t going very fast. I mean, really?

Bulkhead is your best bet (Actually, First Class is)

Only on one leg did I get upgraded to First Class, which was incredibly helpful since I was wearing a boot. (I was upgraded due to my frequent flyer status and not because I was disabled.) The other legs, though, I sat in bulkhead. My Corporate travel agent made those arrangements for me on my first trip, but on my second trip she said the airline indicated that I had to wait until I got to the airport, which was a complete pain and created a little more stress as I worried about not getting bulk head. (I eventually did get it, but my husband couldn’t sit with me.) Again, inconsistencies.

A shout out to the flight attendants who were particularly helpful and sympathetic to my situation, which is always nice, especially in grabbing my crutches for me when I needed to get up and use the bathroom, although I panicked a little when one took my crutches and stowed them who knows where. I didn’t like not having them nearby.

You do get to board first (though after First Class in some instances, which is just plain weird and stupid), which if you’re looking for perks is nice but when you’re traveling by wheelchair or by crutches, who really cares in the end.

By being limited in mobility (and not used to it at all) I felt like I was moving like a sloth. You can’t easily reach for anything, you can’t properly sit to work on your laptop and the swelling from the flight doesn’t help either. Let’s face it, being injured is a complete pain and you can’t do anything normally. You rely so much on help from others. Thank you so much people who helped me along the way.

So what did this teach me?

Patience. That’s what I’ve learned. Yes, me who is not at all patient. Though I think Steve believes I could use some more training in that area. I think there are easier ways than breaking my leg in order to achieve that.

Also, how come airports are doing away with the golf cart shuttles in the terminals? That would have been a much better ride.

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Winter Holiday at the Grand Canyon

27 Thursday Dec 2012

Posted by Ms. Boice in Rendezvous Journal, Trips

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Arizona, Bonneville Salt Flats, Grand Canyon, holiday, Hoover Dam, National Parks, nature, outdoors, photography, snow, travel, vacation, Winter

Grand Canyon Rendezvous

I didn’t expect snow at the Grand Canyon. All I could remember from my first visit 30 years prior was the scorching Arizona heat of 103° F, and add about 10 degrees to that and you get what the temperature was in our non air conditioned family van. My brother, sister and I were passing ice cubes to each other—ice we grabbed from our Coleman water chest—and rubbing it on our faces and necks as my baby sister was bawling because she found the heat unbearable too. It was so damn hot. That’s what I remember from my first trip to the Grand Canyon.

But this time was different. It was my first Christmas with my boyfriend, Steve, who was visiting from Toronto. After our courtship blossomed in Scotland, then grew in England, Steve and I found ourselves in a long-distance romance that was taking us to the Grand Canyon in the winter.

We took our time driving the 500-mile journey from Salt Lake City, stopping in Las Vegas for a night and exploring sites like Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats and Hoover Dam along the way.

We pass the Bonneville Salt Flats of Utah

The Bonneville Salt Flats of Utah (or what I like to refer to as the Devil’s Ice Skating Rink)

It’s a different road trip when it’s not over 100° F. There was no crying baby sister, no suffering in a van with my brother and sisters. Just a quiet ride with a fella I met nine months earlier. This time I could really pay attention to the landscape. And it helps when you’re traveling with a geologist. I learned more from Steve than I ever did in my college geology course. (Even more helpful is an instructor makes you swoon.)

Hoover Dam  on the border of Nevada and Arizona

Hoover Dam on the border of Nevada and Arizona

As we approachedt the Grand Canyon it was dark and snowy and I couldn’t see a thing. I hate driving in the snow and so I pulled over and had Steve drive into the park.

Snow in Arizona. I couldn’t quite make sense of that. Arizona is supposed to be freaking hot, not wintry.

We stayed in the park at the Yavapai Lodge, which had painted cinder blocks for walls. resembling a college dormitory and a toilet that ran all night. The accommodations weren’t lush, but they were practical and we got a good night’s sleep. After a full hot breakfast in the cafeteria we made our way to the rim of the canyon. 100_0824Tourists filled the pathways near the edge, just like they did when I was nine, except people were in parkas, scarves and wool caps, not t-shirts and shorts.

Snow was falling and my fingers could barely stand the icy chill as I snapped photos with my little Kodak camera. This is not the same Grand Canyon I saw when I was nine.

I looked over the edge to look down in the canyon–the Grand Canyon–to see that it wasn’t the hot, scorching beast I remembered, but it looked like a grand dessert with layer upon layer of oranges and browns and golds with a dusting of powdered sugar on top. A geological Mille-feuille.

IMG_0462

A Grand Canyon Mille-feuille

I’m not a fan of winter or snow, which I know is weird because I live in Utah where most people really like the stuff. But to see snow blanketed over the Grand Canyon is a spectacular treat, which most people never get to see. So, you think you’ve seen the Grand Canyon? Sure, maybe you’ve seen it in summer when it’s blowing its hot breath at you, but try seeing it dressed with snow. It’s a much kinder and sweeter Grand Canyon. It will blow you a snowflake kiss.

Click on any photo below and it will enlarge and take you to a slide show. Much better way to view these.

I think I prefer Grand Canyon in the winter
The Grand Canyon Mille-feuille
It’s amazing that on one side of the canyon it’s snowy and the other side is clear.

The best way to see Grand Canyon’s colors is with a little contrasting snow
Grand Canyon
A perfect day at the Grand Canyon

A snowy Grand Canyon
Grand Canyon
A wintry Grand Canyon

No need to cool off from the Arizona heat in this weather.
Grand Canyon
Grand Canyon in winter

Grand Canyon

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The fear of scuba diving and why I do it

09 Sunday Dec 2012

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Belize, Costa Maya, Cozumel, Hawaii, Honduras, Kona, Maui, Mexico, nature, outdoors, Panama, scuba diving, travel, vacation

As I breathe through the regulator, I can’t help but think that if my line gets tangled or caught somehow, or even ruptures I will lose all oxygen and drown.  I will sink to the bottom of the ocean and die.  Maybe Steve will be able to rescue me, but what if he can’t? These are my thoughts, yet the bigger question is, “Why am I even doing this?”

scuba diving in Hawaii

scuba diving in Hawaii

Scuba diving. I never had an interest in it until I was dating Steve, and then, it wasn’t because I was interested in the sport as much as I wanted to impress Steve with my willingness to try something new.  For about a year here’s how the conversations would go:

Steve: “So, do you Scuba dive?”  Me: “Uh, no.”

That little exchange was repeated about four or five times until finally I answered, “No, but I could maybe look into taking lessons or getting certified or whatever.”

“You would?” he asked with excitement in his voice.

And I did. Turns out that even in Utah there was a dive shop three blocks from my home. So, twice a week for a few weeks I took the class, did the drills in the pool and then over a weekend I certified in Open Water Scuba Diving through PADI in a geothermal spring at a crater in Heber, Utah.

All that for love, my dear.

So, let’s make a list to see why I do this

For me, diving is one of the most paradoxical activities I enjoy, endure, do. It’s so conflicting for me that I found myself on dives wondering if I really want to be doing this. So I’ve made a list to figure out where I stand on this whole scuba diving thing.

  • It’s something my husband enjoys so I do it too. His immense curiosity about the world—both above water and below—has opened up my world in discovering and learning so much.
  • I love looking at the earth’s phenomenal underwater world. Did you realize there are really cool things down there in the ocean? Like freaking huge sea turtles, big ass groupers, schools of wildly colorful fish, sea horses, which always seemed mythical to me before I saw one for the first time, eels of all types and even iridescent squid.

    Giant Sea Turtle on the wreck dive we did in Maui

    Giant Sea Turtle on the wreck dive we did in Maui

  • Cool storytelling: We saw a 14 foot Tiger shark TWICE on our dive in Kona, Hawaii (cool story, but a little too terrifying for me. I sucked through my air pretty fast). We also did an amazing night dive with manta rays, which I count as one of the top five things I’ve ever done.
  • I love being on a boat. I don’t get sea sick and I love sitting in the sun with the wind blowing all that hair I have out of my face. Look how happy I am on this boat!

    On our dive boat in Belize

    On our dive boat in Belize

  • I’m still not very good at diving. My buoyancy sucks, I can never remember how to clear my mask and I’m always worried my regulator’s line will have a pin prick in it and I’ll drown.
  • Diving has taken us to some truly wonderful places. Since we’re also birders, we often combine diving trips with jungle birding adventures.
  • It is kind of cool to be able to tell people, “Yeah, I’m a diver.” But the wet suit and neoprene hat, I realize, don’t really make me look cool.  Or do they? Let’s say they do.

    On the dive boat in Kona, Hawaii

    On the dive boat in Kona, Hawaii

  • Diving constantly challenges my fears. Steve is more fearless than I. If I didn’t dive I’m actually convinced I would just stick to routine and become boring in my middle years.

Bottom line, I still like it

I do really like diving. I like that I learned how to do this in my forties and even though it took falling in love with a guy to nudge me to do this, it is one of those things in which I surprise myself. My first real dive (after certifying at the crater) was in Cozumel, Mexico on our honeymoon. Since then we’ve been diving in Belize, Honduras, Costa Maya (Mexico), Cozumel again, Panama and Hawaii (Kona and most recently Maui). The dive companies we go with are as varied as the people we meet on the boat. Some dive companies I like better than others, but overall, I’m glad I’m a diver and I’m motivated to get better at it so I’m not so scared.

But really, it’s not a bad thing to do something that scares you.

Scuba diving on our honeymoon in Cozumel

Scuba diving on our honeymoon in Cozumel

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Tales from Oahu: Follow that van!

22 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Coconut, Food, Haleiewa, Hawaii, Laie, North Shore, Oahu, Peanut Butter, travel, vacation

While driving around the North Shore of Oahu we were making our way back to Laie when all of a sudden this guy merges in front of us:

Did you read that? Yes, on the back of that van it says, Coconut Peanut Butter! To my mom who was driving, I hollered, “Follow that van!”

There are two things I love in this world: Peanut butter and coconut and at this moment I thought either the Rapture occurred and I was swept up into heaven or the tropical trade winds were messing with my head and I was hallucinating. The really good kind of hallucinating. Either way, I didn’t care. Follow that van!

Well, we lost track of the van. He turned right and we went straight because we were in search of a bathroom. Seems I have to pee a lot in Hawaii. Not sure why. So the bladder took precedence. (If we had followed the van, wetting my pants would have certainly taken the joy out of the whole thing. Maybe it was a dream, so bathroom won out.)

Mom took us to a little shopping strip mall kind of thing in Haleiewa. Bladder relief, check! And then my mom in all her brilliance asked a kind lady in a Hawaiian tchotchke shop (Hawaiin and Yiddish–I just cracked myself up writing that) if she knew where we could find this mysterious Coconut Peanut Butter.

Please, oh, please let it not be part of my imagination.

It wasn’t! The lady said, “They have it next door, but it’s a little expensive.” I didn’t care if I had to take out a small loan for it. She started to explain how it’s even good just eating it out of the jar with a spoon.

“You think I haven’t already plotted that out?” I thought.

I don’t even think I let her finish talking about it. I was already out her door and into the shop next door. Here’s what the most heavenly thing on earth looks like:

Oh, and by the way, only TWO ingredients: Peanuts and coconuts. No sugar added! I also discovered that if you slather it on a banana it’s really crazy awesome.

Think I’m gonna share? Nope. Go find your own.

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The disappearance and reappearance of Bryce Canyon

11 Sunday Nov 2012

Posted by Ms. Boice in Rendezvous Journal, Trips

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Bryce Canyon, bryce canyon national park, hoodoos, National Park, nature, photography, travel, Utah, vacation, weather

Bryce Canyon National Park Rendezvous

“It’s here, I’m sure it is,” I said. “I mean, it’s a big ass canyon. Where could it have gone?” It was an October morning and we had just walked on the paved trail from our cabin, following the signs to view Bryce Canyon. The fog was so dense I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of me and the colors that would have been there—the red rocks, the green sage—had been washed away as if we were catapulted into a black and white movie from the forties. And the canyon. It was gone.

It’s as if it were Brigadoon.

That’s me in front of Bryce Canyon. Yes, really.

And this is Steve in front of Bryce Canyon

This was our third rendezvous. We were now on the same continent, which was progress, I thought. It had been two and a half months since our rendezvous in England and six months since we first met in Scotland where Steve had been living. I was so excited to take Steve to see Bryce Canyon. I actually hadn’t been since I was a kid on a family vacation but I remembered the orangey red clayish rock and the hoodoos that pointed up to the sky like a million little fingers. This time was different. I had a geologist with me (Steve) and he narrated our five hour drive from Salt Lake City to Bryce Canyon with explanations about the different color of rock, the strata and iron.

Alas, my excitement and anticipation of experiencing Bryce Canyon with Steve unravelled like an old sweater. I was bummed. I really wanted Steve to see this beautiful part of Utah and the weather ruined it. It’s like traveling a long distance and finding that the museum you wanted to visit is closed. Or that all the tickets to a tour are sold out. Just as we were beginning to turn around on the path back to our cabin a couple emerged out of the fog. Really. Like right out of the fog. They could tell that we were a bit disappointed as we were snapping pictures of each other in front of a backdrop of white and as they approached us one of them said, “You have to take the trail down. It’s beautiful down there and the fog is beginning to lift. You see more at the bottom.”

No convincing needed. Off we went down the trail.

We walked down, down, down and we began to see the red rock. Fog curled around the hoodoos and the more we walked down the less fog we saw. It was quiet—there weren’t very many people around, but what I thought at first to be a disappointment ended up being an extraordinarily unique experience in one of the most popular National Parks in the U.S.

Bryce Canyon, alone, is a spectacle to behold, but without all the summer tourists and with curling, swirling fog, it’s a whole different experience. Not many people get to experience Bryce Canyon this way:

I imagined that maybe I was on another planet. Is this what people mean when they say,”Out of this world?” If so, I totally get it now.

Four years later we visited Bryce Canyon National Park and as we walked down the same path on a warm September day we saw the hoodoos standing upright without the curtain of fog, and in unison we said, “So this is what it looks like!”

A picture perfect Bryce Canyon (sans fog)

For more pictures of Bryce Canyon National Park check out the photos in the slide show.

Uh, yes. That’s me in front of Bryce Canyon

Bryce Canyon
You have to admit, it’s kind of cool looking.

Hey look! We the fog is lifting!

Waiting for the fog to lift.
On our hike down to the bottom

And this is Steve in front of Bryce Canyon

A picture perfect Bryce Canyon (sans fog)

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Sorry Canada, but I’m telling everyone about the Okanagan Valley

27 Saturday Oct 2012

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

British Columbia, Canada, Carmelis Goat Cheese, Kelowna, Marmalade Cat Cafe, Okanagan Lake, Okanagan Valley, photography, Retirement, travel, vacation, wine

Calgary has it’s Stampede, Banff lays claim to Lake Louise and the rising Canadian Rockies, but head just west of there and you land smack into a wonderful valley called Okanagan in British Columbia. The Okanagan Valley is wedged between two mountain ranges (Columbia and Cascade) and painted with orchards and vineyards that line the long, meandering Okanagan Lake, which travels southward toward Washington State. Canadians seem to know all about this place (natch), but the rest of us? Not a clue. And I think the Canadians like it that way.

Vineyards in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia

This wasn’t my first time visiting Okanagan Lake. My first visit was when I was dating Steve five years ago. Color me so shocked to find all those vineyards lined up as grids all along the valley, and the orchards of apples that stretch from Kelowna–the main city in the valley–up into the hills.

The weather is very mild compared to the rest of Canada, which I realize is not saying much. The speed is slow like you would expect in an area that attracts retiring Canadians who consider themselves snowbirds, but not snowbirdy enough to dip their toes into the United States. In fact, living in Okanagan Valley is much more tolerable than, say Montana, which though certainly south of Canada isn’t a place where you’d want to winter.  It’s all relative, you know.

Vineyards in Okanagan Valley, British Columbia

I’ll state the obvious here: water sports are aplenty and a person has no trouble finding their preferred watercraft. There’s also the Jazz Festival every September, and winery after winery. I’m not talking a handful of wineries–but oodles of wineries. Sure, there are some smallish operations, but there are also the more well-known Inniskillin, Mission Hill and Jackson-Triggs. And with wineries you’ll naturally find award-winning restaurants. Oh, the restaurants! (Can we retire here, sweetie?  Just wonderin’. Oh wait, I forgot we were retiring in Panama. Maybe the Okanagan Valley can be the Summer home.)

Say “cheese!”


In between our decadent winery meals we returned to one of our favorite lesser-known points of interest: The Carmelis Goat Cheese Artisan, Inc.in Kelowna.To get there you take a road that serpentines up one of the highest hills overlooking the lake and where you can still see the remnants of charred trees from the firestorm of 2003 that burned over 60,000 acres.

At Carmelis you simply must sample the cheeses, buy some goat cheese and crackers to take back to your hotel room and especially don’t miss the goat’s milk ice cream. It’s totally worth the calories.  (In fact, everything in the Okanagan Valley seemed to be worth the calories, so bring pants with an elastic waistband.)

Speaking of that elastic waistband…

Tim Horton’s and I are just taking a break from each other

On our last day in Kelowna we decided to do something absolutely crazy and not have breakfast at Tim Horton’s. (Tim Horton’s was the Yin to our Yang of decadent and pricey lunches and dinners at wineries.) So instead of our usual breakfast sandwich and donut at Tim’s we found the Marmalade Cat Cafe where you smell the tea brewing as soon as you walk through the door and where their breakfast sandwiches are, well, look at this:

The best breakfast place in town (Sorry Tim!)

The Okanagan Valley isn’t a one-note region. You don’t have to drink wine, enjoy jazz, water ski or even collect a pension check to find your niche here. Hey, I’d keep coming back just for that goat cheese. It was my second trip to the area and I still feel like I haven’t fully realized everything there is to enjoy, so I’m going to keep the idea of a summer home alive with Steve. (And sorry all my Canadian friends–I just let the cat out of the bag about the Okanagan Valley.)

More photos here. Click on any of them and it will take you to a slide show for better viewing. Everything looks yummier with a black background anyway, doncha think?

Okanagan Valley, British Columbia
Vineyards in Okanagan Valley, British Columbia

It’s harvest time!

Bell Tower at Mission Hill
Terrace Restaurant

Entrance to Mission Hill Winery
Great historic hotel where we stayed–right on the water

Best darn breakfast in town.

Goats Milk Ice Cream

Pears picked that morning
Beach at Penticton

Steve’s awesome breakfast sandwich.

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