Thanksgiving Travel to America

Stop and smell the coffee

A cup. The floor. Sadness.

Well, that’s great advice but it needs to be made first so I did just that and did it before the sun got a chance to make my day a bit brighter. But then gravity took over and my coffee fell to the floor of my car. A taste would have been nice, but it really did smell good for the next three hours as I drove from Naples to Rome. The extra moisture caused me to turn on my defroster from time to time. No problem. But then twice at the airport I was taken aside and swabbed. I began to wonder if whatever was in the artificial creamer settled on me and set off the machines. I think it was a coincidence. Create your conspiracy theory and leave a comment. We all could use a chuckle or two.

Monte Cassino and the snow covered mountain

Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Monte_Cassino

Just below and to the left of the mountain is a rebuilt abbey. It was destroyed for the fifth time during World War II. I have been there twice and it is amazing so much of it survived. I saw the snow long before I saw the abbey as I drove to the airport. It was the first snow of the season. A large storm passed through Italy a couple of days before and snow was visible once the clouds lifted. Thankfully the traffic was light and I was able to snap a few pictures as I passed. There was no point and shoot–it was more like shoot in the general direction and hope that something turns out.

A flower for Steve

A beautiful plate of ham in Rome’s Fiumicino airport

Okay. Okay. This was not a flower. But it was a beautiful and tasty display in the ITA lounge. For some reason I reached Gold Medallion status at Delta Airlines so their Italian partner gave me free access. Very nice! After a couple of cappuccinos, some eggs, bacon, and a couple of servings of yogurt later I entered the plane very contented. By the way, I should have said cappuccino instead of cappuccinos as the plural form cappuccini is derived from Italian cappuccini. The more you know….

Too much information

I am hoping my plane is not below the ocean

I can almost see the ocean from my seat in the plane and I know for a fact that I am not 14 below sea level. No problem….unless the instruments are wrong when I land and the landing is really, really hard.

Flying over my house in NY

Somewhere over NY

After listening to many hours of podcasts and sleeping a bit from time to time, I looked at the monitor and saw I had entered the United States. Only a few more hours to go.

As it turned out, the landing was smooth and I barley woke up. Kudos to the crew. A peaceful flight uninterrupted.

Reminds me of a sunset from another time

A beautiful Atlanta sunset

This was a beautiful sunset and it reminded me of a home movie my dad made 50 years ago. There is nothing more magnificent than looking at the beautiful side of Mother Nature. And there is nothing better than being reminded of a parent who took the time to share his interest in our world. I have remembered that sunset since I was a kid.

Thankful for my mom

Thankful for the food and those who prepared it

My sisters and their many helpers created a wonderful meal and a beautiful environment

A bonus the morning after Thanksgiving

My mom made biscuits from scratch

My sisters decorated their Christmas Tree after Thanksgiving

Epilogue

Remember those cheesy TV shows that wrapped up everything in a few words before the credits began to roll? Well, these are my parting words. My trip back to see family in America was filled with food and happiness and love. There is never enough time and that was certainly true of this trip. 24 hours to get to America, 72 hours on the ground, and 24 hours on the return to Italy. A lifetime of memories were made in that short time. I love my family and I appreciate how they welcomed me with open arms. One last thing. As much as I loved being with these family members, I missed being with those that couldn’t be there. I hope to see them soon.

Facebook Refugee

Featured

After nearly 14 years of Facebook interactions I am calling it quits.  I have requested a copy of my information and it totals about 10GBs.  Wow!  That is a lot of interaction.  I will miss interacting with people who became Facebook friends and real world friends who use Facebook.  I’ll miss wishing and receiving birthday wishes and sharing headlines, memes, and funny stories.  I won’t miss the rancor and disturbing posts I read and wrote and shared.  Those negative posts didn’t change minds and didn’t make any of us feel better about the world.  And we need to feel better about the world.  The real world.  Our families live in the real world and this online Facebook world is more of a distraction than anything else.  So, thank you to all who wished me happy birthdays over the years.  Thank you to all who tried to get me to see things from your point of view.  Thank you to those who listened to my side of things.  I wish all of you well as I leave Facebook.  

I am reviving a blog I started many years ago and will post travel pictures and random thoughts.  You can find the blog at dreamsofmysonsfather.com.  Feel free to leave comments.

My Facebook Messenger will remain so I can be reached there.

Finally, my personal email is steve@ursell.org.  Drop me an email and we can stay in touch the old-fashioned way.  Whoever would have thought emails would be the old way of contacting each other.  I still have my sursell@aol.com account from nearly 40 years ago.  Wow!  Now I really feel old!

All the best to those of you who continued to read this far down the page—and to those who couldn’t resist the need to look for the next shiny object after about 10 seconds.  It’s a joke.  It’s a joke.  You know who you are!  LOL

21 Years and Counting

Today is my anniversary and I am so happy! Of course everyone might say that, but not everyone can say it with enthusiasm. The road has been long and we got started late and we still have many more miles to go, but this anniversary is an important milepost along the way.

Steve and Jessica
21st Anniversary

There is always a danger when you become romantic with a friend because you might lose that friend if things don’t continue romantically. But there is another aspect to dating someone who is your friend, you have seen that person in a different context and you already know whether there is a basis for continuing once the butterflies in your stomach settle down.

The butterflies have not settled down yet. Each day is a gift and I am so happy to share the day with Jessica. Each day is full of wonder and often contains a bit of mystery. By the time I close my eyes at night I realize that my day has been full and my heart is content.

In this, the year of COVID-19, we are simply celebrating our journey with a meal prepared by a guest chef and served in our house in the country. The guest chef is our son Michael and we are happy to spend some extra time with him, and enjoy his cooking creations.

Next year we will have a different backdrop to celebrate our love. We will be in Italy soon and we will be there when we celebrate year number 22.

All my love, Steve.

A year with Trump

Three more years to go and then the title will be “A full term in office for Trump.”  Would anyone like to wager whether that happens?  I’m thinking it will be amazing if he lasts that long.  He might get pushed out by Republicans, or impeached by Democrats, or he might just walk away to spend more time with his family.  Why anyone in the last years of their life would want to put up with the nuttiness that comes with being the President of the United States is beyond me.

At this point, it seems that Trump is content to fight back against those that would like to defeat him.  How long will he want to fight?  Why does he want to fight?  Will he continue to view everyone as a potential enemy?  Probably.  Will he continue to pick a fight with everyone?  Absolutely.  Will insiders continue to align with Trump’s real and imagined enemies?  Regrettably, that answer is also yes.

And, who are those insiders?  The Justice Department seems to be infested with insiders who work against Trump.  They appointed their own employees to investigate Trump and they chose people who actively worked to derail the election process.  Justice personnel covered up the crimes of one candidate and fabricated crimes about the other candidate, and they did this during the election.  And then, the Justice Department assigned these same people to investigate the very candidate they actively worked to defeat.

Many people cringed when Trump led campaign chants that called for Hillary to be locked up.  In America, we don’t jail opposition candidates or have them killed.  But, in America, we also don’t expect our justice system to choose sides.  Justice must be a non-partisan organization, and individually, its employees must also remain non-partisan.  It is clear that biased Justice employees thrived in an environment that was highly partisan.  How did an exception become the rule?

It is easy to blame the previous Justice leaders and supervisors.  In fact, who else can be blamed?  These biased high-level Justice Department personnel advanced to the upper levels through a largely non-competitive process.  Lower levels government positions are earned, but not the upper levels.  Upper-level personnel advance to their positions through political patronage and not merit, and this is not unique to the current or previous administration.  The Bush administration sent incompetent personnel to Iraq after it fell and Iraq is still dealing with the mistakes they made.

So, should Justice Department employees be screened against some standard of fairness?  Who would develop that standard and who would administer the test?  And, when the next administration assumes power will they create their own version of the test and eliminate personnel who don’t measure up to their standard of fairness?  I don’t think a standard is possible.  We are all human, and those that create a test are human, and that means even the best effort will result in a flawed product.  Personnel will incorrectly be screened out and some of those that should leave will probably be missed.

Donald Rumsfield said, “…you go to war with the army you have, not the army you might want or wish to have at a later time.”  We have a flawed Justice Department and we can accept that as a fact when it comes to low-level employees; however, those at the top need to be fired.  New leaders must change the biased culture of the Justice Department because the tone of the office environment is established by leaders, not the employees.

Pod People

We have all had a similar experience I am sure.  We really enjoy watching someone or listening to a celebrity, but then you get a closeup view and they are not a person you would ever want to know.  It happens.  We watch and watch and then see a quote or police blotter or a twitter rant, and that person’s persona dissolves into an ugly puddle at the bottom of your brain’s drain.

It happened to me this weekend when I responded to Susie Ochs’s, @sfsooz, tweet about the “loser” president-elect.  She is the executive editor at Macworld and she took exception to my suggestion that she should stick with tech.  Well, the suggestion was just that, but she sent some tweets about being a female and not being silenced, blah, blah, blah.  She is a tech writer.  If I want to read about politics there are plenty of Twitter feeds that supply that content.  If I go to tech, I go to those feeds.  Why would I want to sift through content to find what interests me that particular day.

It is not just Susie Ochs, other tech tweeters also have a severe liberal bias.  I have looked the other way because I like their tech insights, but I think I am done looking the other way.  I’ll listen to them–they are nearly always non-political in their podcasts–but I am no longer going to follow them.  Why should I continue to read their drivel about politics when it is their tech insights that interest me.

Here is a list of tech people who I would encourage others to unfollow:

Susie Ochs, @sfooz, Mark Gurman, @markgurman, Marco Arment, @marcoarment, John Siracusa, @siracusa, John Siracusa, @siracusa, Chris Breen, @bodyofbreen, Erfon Elijah, @erfon, Leander Kanye, @lkahney.

Other blatanatly left people I am going to unfollow:

Catherine Fugate, @katherinefugate, Michael Feldman, @myfeldman, Stephen King, @stephenking, Mark Hamill, @hamillhimself.  (Note:   Michael Feldman’s show is blatantly, liberally biased–but he is just so funny–I’ll miss his tweets though.)

I look forward to blindly listening to their podcasts without all the political drama.  All the best to techies and left leaning entertainers in the new year.

But wait!  There is more!  Had these tech writers looked into Hillary’s server vulnerabilities once The NY Times broke the story in 2015, they could have informed the world from a professional point of view.  Instead, tech valley let the story be told by political hacks and Hillary continued toward the election year.  Now, tech writers slander the president-elect they helped put into office.

Maybe tech writers should look inward to find the cause of their discontent.

One final point needs to be made.  My Twitter feed has equal parts left and right from news organizations and political sources.  Bernie, Trump, Hillary, Warren, Biden, Pence, Ryan, and even Donna Brazile are among the 200+ people and organizations I follow.  I like to hear both sides of the issue and do not live in an echo chamber.

I am not a pod person.

What could have been

We had a few hours in Tenerife’s capital, Santa Cruz.  We sampled coffee, walked through a local market, and took a bus to a beach several miles away.  The time went by quickly and we got underway.  That’s all.  The end.  Really, unless a person gets outside this capital city, there is not much to distinguish it from an industrial city.

If only city planners had kept the industrial parts of the city away from the city center.  If only.  The needs of city inhabitants were not part of the planning process.  It appears that industrial giants took advantage of a weak local government.  The port was covered with huge cranes and dreary support buildings.  It was one of the ugliest ports I have every seen.  Once I got away from the waterfront, the city took on the appearance of any other modern city.  Cafes, traffic, and a horn or two greeted those who walked along the streets.

The beach was well-known and beautiful except for the oil exploration platform floating a mile or so away in the “currently” crystal clear waters.  The beach had soft clean sand and there were little places to purchase a bit of food and drink.  Umbrellas and chairs could be rented and paddle boats too.  No matter where we went, the locals were friendly.  Very friendly.  But Santa Cruz could have been so much more.

The next day we entered Madeira’s capital, Funchal.  The port was absolutely beautiful.  We took a taxi to a beach only a couple of miles away and the city was like something out of a Disneyland resort theme.  Green plants were everywhere and the houses or apartments were well maintained and had a sense of coordinated planning.  The taxi driver let us out where the road met the beach and offered to return if we called his personal number.  We got out and began our walk along the beach.

This beach is not how most Americans would think of this beach.  The small grey stones were piled up into dunes and they were missing at other locations where the ocean met the land.  Pebbles and stones the size of soccer balls met anyone who decided to go to the water’s edge.  Though few people were in the water or on the beach, it was obvious that people enjoy this beach at other times of the year.  Steps to the beach were available every hundred feet or so and we stopped at the first place we found that served coffee.

Who ever heard of putting wine in coffee?  Not me.  But, I wanted to try something local and it was called a Madeira coffee–made from coffee, local wine, and whipped cream.  It was yucky to the last drop.  We tried a few more items and then moved on to the next eating/drinking establishment.  We might have stayed at the first place had their WIFI worked.  Oh well, I’m so glad the WIFI wasn’t working.

The next place was amazing as were the people who sat down next to us.  The server brought a local red wine and a plate with bits of fish and vegetables.  Soon, a couple of ladies sat down and ordered a green wine and I asked them what it was.  It turns out that Jacquie and Sylvia journey to Madeira every year from England and I ordered my own glass of their green wine.  They ordered some food and I ordered their food too.  We shared a conversation about the beans brought out with their drinks instead of nuts and chips.  At this point, a man at another table said the same beans are served in Italy.  It turns out Igor is from Denmark and is a tour guide several months of the year on the Amalfi Coast.

Soon the English, Americans, and the Danish customers were all crowded around a couple of tables talking about local wine, food, and the beach experience.  More wine was served and Poncha too.  Igor told how it used to be served to poor fishermen and that it was now served to everyone.  After FaceBook friend requests were made and accepted, we had to leave and we left with Jacquie leading the way.  We walked along the beach past where our taxi driver left us and continued toward our cruise ship.  The walk was beautiful and involved some caves and plenty of steps and the usual, beautiful vistas.  A taxi took us the rest of the way to the ship since we were nearly out of time.

Even without meeting such wonderful people, Madeira was a wonderful place to visit.  It is definitely a place I’d like to explore even more.  Santa Cruz?  Never.  This is my tale of two cities.

And then there was Morocco

With all the turmoil in the world centered on beliefs that usually include the descriptor “Islam,” booking a cruise specifically because the cruise included Morocco was probably a strange choice.  We had been to the northern tip of Morocco a few years ago, but we wanted to go to Marrakech and that was just not possible because that trip was so short.  

We arrived in Casablanca just as the sun came up and all a person could see outside were industrial cranes.  Dozens of cranes and only one minaret–a very tall one–the only one visible.  It appeared that Capitalism was the true religion and I think this guess iw probably correct.  It turns out that the minaret has a powerful green laser that points to Mecca, but I wouldn’t know about it until 12 hours later when our tour guide told us about it.

I didn’t know what to expect when we drove through Casablanca.  It was nothing like the movie, of course.  It was a mostly modern city with all the conveniences and inconveniences we accept in other parts of the world.  One of the more interesting features was the large numbers of farm animals kept in pens the size of a city block.  Sheep, cows, and goats walked around on dirt and waited for their human servants to bring nourishment.  Shanty towns, where rooftops were secured by old tires sitting on plastic sheets, existed next to modern buildings.  Modern trams waited for cars to unblock intersections so they could pass, and the passing almost always was accompanied by the blare of multiple horns.  Miriam, our tour guide, said car dealers had a phrase for customers:  “good horn, good brakes, and good luck.”

For most of the three hour drive from Casablanca to Marrakech, Miriam told us one fact after another and all of them were fascinating.  We were curious whether she was Jewish when she told us her name, but we didn’t want to ask.  Actually, we did want to ask, but it was too personal.  Miriam told us that Casablanca was divided into sections and each section had a mosque, synagogue, and a Christian church.  She talked about how Morocco was very tolerant of all religions and also how Morocco took in Jews when they were expelled from Spain.  She talked about how Islam came to Morocco and how the mainly atheist Berbers were among the first converts.  She also talked about how Morocco was mainly Sunni and they were much more tolerant than Shiites.

Miriam said there was so much construction because the king wants to eliminate the shantytowns and was building condominiums everywhere.  Tourism is one of Morocco’s main industries and they are working to make Morocco even more beautiful.  Some features needed only to preserved from human intervention.  We saw beautiful rolling, green hillsides and rock formations.  The Atlas mountain range was visible as we entered the outskirts of Marrakech.  Most surprising to me was how green everything was.  I expected to leave Casablanca and drive through a desert until Marrakech.  Miriam said it had been raining “cats and dogs” for days before we got there and it was obvious because of the standing water in the fields.  But, Miriam also talked about how they have irrigated the land for centuries and that only the method of irrigation had changed as modern methods had improved the old.

We saw Saudi tombs and a palace that housed the wives and concubines of someone of old times.  Pictures can provide better explanations than words so come back to this blog after pictures have been added.

What was probably a close approximation to a real Moroccan feast was one of the highlights of the tour.  The food was really good as were the musicians.  A lady danced with a multi tiered candelabra balanced on her head.  A belly dancer entertained all of us and danced with a few members of the crowd.  And, it was a feast.  Spicy baked chicken, local bread unlike bread I’ve tasted before, several plates of sauces, and a very large plate of cous cous with vegetables.  Cookies were dessert, but I think I left out the wine.  Yes.  I left out the wine.  There is something extra special about having a glass of wine in an Islamic country.  The wine was not spectacular, but it was good. 

No excursion is complete without a place for tourists to contribute to the local economy–a well connected member of the local economy, I am sure.  We contributed and contributed and I carried a bag full of spices and oils the rest of the trip.  The cooking spices were the hook for me, while others dreamed of  “medicinal” oils solving the world’s problems.  It was probably more snake oil than anything else, but the presenter was very entertaining and I am so glad we ate before we started smelling the spices.  I’m sure a second bag would have been required.

“The square” was our final stop in Marrakech.  We were given 30 minutes to explore what was a circus and open air market rolled into one.  Monkeys, beggars, and peddlers of all sorts of wares assaulted our visual, audio, and nasal sensors.  I had been warned by an Italian coworker to be careful in that square because the pickpockets were experts.  She said, “and I say this as someone from Naples.”  Well, the only way someone got my money was when I handed it to them.  I handed it to a person apparently in need, the waiter who brought excellent mint tea, and the snake handler who draped a snake around my neck and placed the snake’s head between my index finger and thumb.  He was going to put another snake in my other hand, but that snake bit him and I declined.  A 14 foot black cobra was just a foot or so away from me and raised up to keep an eye on me.  Okay, it wasn’t 14 feet long, but it was right next to me as I was kneeled on the ground with a snake in one hand as the snake handler beginning to negotiate the price for my freedom.  $20 was the cost instead of 30 Euros.  Probably not a bargain, but I can live with it.

“Oh my god” said the woman who was trying to sell bracelets.  She asked $10 dollars for a bunch of them and Jessica asked “you want to buy my husband for $10?”  After fending off many other street sellers while we waited for our bus to arrive, we got back on the bus and drove back to Casablanca.  It was dark very soon and there wasn’t much to see until the green laser appeared.

We got off the bus and went through a security check which consisted of a very quick electronic scan of our bags and a walk through a scanner set to let most everything through.  We were then allowed to walk back toward the bus and the ship.  Because there was no line or supervision, people could literally walk to the ship without being scanned.  Thankfully, real security people on the ship scanned our bags, coats, and items emptied from our pockets.  The last thing I would want is for someone to bring something onto the ship that would do us harm–especially something brought onto the ship from a very tolerant Islamic country–maybe the last one on the planet.

Borgo di Ostia Antica

I have driven by this place many times and have eaten meals in a couple of its restaurants, but there is nothing like stepping outside your room and walking around–and walking around some more.

Definitely a dreamy place to be.  Enjoy the pics.

Our bed and breakfast: Wisteria House.

Our bed and breakfast: Wisteria House.

Our BnB was part of this wall

Our BnB was part of this wall

One of the buildings in the borgo

One of the buildings in the borgo

One of the buildings in the borgo

One of the buildings in the borgo

Via del Forno

Via del Forno

One of the many water fountains in the bongo

One of the many water fountains in the bongo

Looking toward Parrocchia Saint Aurea a Ostia Antica

Looking toward Parrocchia Saint Aurea a Ostia Antica

The left side of the piazza looking toward Castillo di Guilio II

The left side of the piazza looking toward Castillo di Guilio II

The right side of the piazza looking toward Castillo di Guilio II

The right side of the piazza looking toward Castillo di Guilio II

A portion of Castillo di Guilio II

A portion of Castillo di Guilio II

Reused marble from the ancient city of Ostia

Reused marble from the ancient city of Ostia

Reused marble from the ancient city of Ostia

Reused marble from the ancient city of Ostia

A cute toe carved 2,000 years ago and displayed on the wall of our BnB

A cute toe carved 2,000 years ago and displayed on the wall of our BnB

Ostia Antica Borgo

Ostia Antica Borgo (our BnB is in the building at the top of the image)

 

Hotdogs. Get your hotdogs.

Does anyone else vaguely remember a thin skin on hotdogs 50 years ago?  I’m not sure if it is a real memory, or if maybe it was one hotdog among the hundreds (thousands?) eaten as a child.  Hotdogs today are prepared from mystery meat, cooked and formed (or formed and cooked?), and then hurried to grocery stores where they can remain viable nearly as long as a Twinkie.

I like a grilled hotdog as much as the next guy, but I really like a “dirty water dog” served on the streets of New York City.  The water isn’t really dirty, but the name is a holdover from days when maybe it was a bit more true.

Speaking of New York City hotdogs, has anyone tried to buy one that is not marked halal?  It turns out that most hotdog stands are owned and operated by Muslims–not that there is anything wrong with that.  (A bit of Seinfeld.)  Decline of the Dog talks about the evolution of the hotdog cart, but don’t read it on an empty stomach or you’ll raid your refrigerator.

And, how does a person spell this childhood treat?  Either way is the answer according to a search of the internet, but I’ll go with hot dog.  Hot Dog History claims two words so I’ll change my spelling preference too.  Whether hotdog or hot dog is correct, it sounds much better than the original “dachshund sausages.”

And then there is this guy Weiner.  Kids in my neighborhood called each other weiners, but it was all about a certain male appendage and it was always funny calling someone a weiner, or chasing someone after being called a weiner.  We were kids.  That’s what kids did.  We taunted each other and name calling was just normal.  Being called a weiner never hurt anyone, at least until the last few years.  Being called a weiner now has a different meaning.  Liar.  Exhibitionist.  Someone who endangers his own child.  Loser.

But, where was I?  Oh yes.  I have four dachshund sausages in my refrigerator and four buns.  I see a plan coming together.

The home of the brave

Kaepernick won’t stand during the national anthem.  Gutsy move for someone who depends on fellow American’s to support his lifestyle.  Endorsements, ticket sales, employment after professional football; these and more considerations must have gone through his mind when he decided to take a stand.  Gutsy move.

While others mindlessly stand and place their hands over their hearts, this guy took a stand by not standing.  This is a true American.  He does what he thinks is right no matter what others think.  I disagree with him, but I admire his courage.

I see others place their hands over their hearts as a sign of their belief in our country and it makes me sick.  These people (and you can guess who they might be) demonstrate acts of patriotism, but they do not love our country.  It amazes me that these people can look themselves in the mirror or sleep at night.  They do not share the central belief system of those they govern.

Someday, someday soon, these people will be cast off and relegated to the trash heap of civilization.  They will not have to pretend to be Americans much longer.  We will see who they really are.

I hope Karpernick will eventually stand for the national anthem.  I hope he will regain pride in all things American.  Until then, he should sit out the anthem.  Only those who believe in America should join those of us who renew our pledge to America every time we we stand, face the flag, and let America’s anthem wash over us.