More of BigJ's European Vacation

One of BigJ's goals on our Christmas vacation was to go to McDonalds in foreign countries. He wanted to see whether McDonalds food really is the same everywhere you go or not. And also, since he is a true McDonalds fan, he wanted to eat the food in a foreign land. The following is BigJ's story.


My trip to Europe was insane. I'm just a plain dude from America. I met my stepfather's family the
morning after I got there, what they call Boxing Day, what we call the day after Christmas. They're very nice people. I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to understand their accents, but I did, it was fine.

I was mesmerized by the size of their streets. They're like two thirds of a normal road, and I don't mean a highway, I mean the road your house is on. And as everyone knows the driving is on the other side and the steering wheel is on the other side. Totally freaked me out. The first day out and about we went and did touristy things. We went to an old cityand saw a real castle. It was so big it was like the real deal.

I decided I wanted to only eat their foods that you can't get in the states. So - first meal bangers and mash. It was good. It's just sausage links and peas and mashed potatoes and carrots on a plate. No biggie. If you go there -- chill out.One thing about America -- everything's go go go. I've been a few places out of America. The rest of the world moves a little slower with service; and its not such like clock work.

 We went to London. I am so blessed to have done that. It was past great. We even went to Harrod's, the most expensive store in the world. If you can ever get there please do, it's like another world, all the old sights and the things in the movies I've seen before. I saw all of that in London. I didn't get to see my Stonehenge, but that's another trip, hopefully. 

So for New Year's Eve we went to Boulogne in France. Now that's more WILD than London. Everyone was like staring at me, because I'm a really tall and big guy and people don't wear Polo shirts and khakis. Little did I know at the time, that's just very American. Plus being well over six foot, I definitely had some onlookers.

And omg, THE PIZZA IN FRANCE -- I wish they could deliver to Florida. I swear to God, unless you go to the Motherland of Italy, which I haven't been to, no one holds a torch next to French pizza. Twice I had it and it blew me away, way more expensive though of course.

All in all, it was a great experience, and if you can do it -- DO IT.

Daytona Beach: "The World's Most Famous Beach"

I never thought I would love Daytona Beach. After living there for 19 years, I have to say it is my home in my heart. Growing up in Jacksonville, Daytona was looked upon as a seedy tourist trap, and far beneath the attention of real Floridians. Sometime in the late 80’s, while living in Orlando, my then husband had the idea that we should move to Daytona to get out of Orlando’s party atmosphere. It turned out that party time in Daytona was more frequent and more intense than Orlando’s ever was. My ex embraced the party; I stayed home with our boy.

     It isn’t an easy place to survive. My mother liked to remind me that Volusia County, which includes Daytona Beach, is the lowest paying county in the state. One of my professors relished telling us that Volusia is a third world county. Yet, I stayed all those years, and enjoyed them.

    One of Daytona’s claims to fame is that people can drive on the beach. Many years ago they had car races on the beach; and not so many years ago driving on the beach at night was legal. It is a strange way to treat your beach -- to drive on it. The old school race fans support beach driving as a tribute to Daytona’s history. I once worked for a man that was founder of a group called, “Sons of the Beaches”, whose sole mission was to preserve beach driving for all. The turtle ladies down south, in Ponce Inlet, fought hard against beach driving in front of their homes, and won. They fought in the name of environmentalism to keep the beach safe for sea turtle nests; and in my opinion to keep the beach in front of their homes private for themselves. Sadly, a child was killed recently, run over by a car on the beach. When my son was little, we would go north to Ormond by the Sea where beach driving wasn’t allowed. It was difficult enough to keep an eye on a child in the surf, without also having to worry about traffic.

    There once was a boardwalk in Daytona, all gone now. We went there often to play at the arcades and ride the rides. I convinced my son that the Space Needle was our own personal space ship. For about two dollars you entered a round glassed in room that rose fifty feet or more into the air while rotating on a shaft. We delighted in looking down at the itty bitty people on the beach. The boardwalk had a carnival atmosphere, cotton candy, trinkets, souvenirs, T-shirt shops, air brush artists; all just ten minutes from our house everyday of the week.


    Daytona Beach has no real industry outside of tourism. Shifts of people come into town for an event and them go away only to be replaced by another shift of people. Sometime in January the race fans start coming into town. The Daytona 500 is the big one; and Nascar seems to add on another race or two every year. Race fans are mostly middle aged, and well behaved. They inject money into the local economy. They come back again in July for the Pepsi 400; now much more popular since it’s a night race, and fans don’t have to withstand the brutal midsummer midday heat.

    After the race fans leave, after the Daytona 500 is over, the bikers come. They roar into town on their shiny chrome Harleys wearing black shirts and leather. Bikers are also mostly middle aged, but not as well behaved as the race fans. A popular saying is that, they’re all doctors and lawyers in real life, although I don’t think it’s so. I think plenty of the bikers are only bikers for bike week; but also plenty are bikers all the time. Their bad behavior is their driving. Many, no not all, insist on modifying the pipes on their bikes to make them as loud as possible; and insist that “loud pipes save lives”. Some dart dangerously through traffic; likely the same ones that complain that auto drivers just don’t see them. There is no doubt that the bikers inject money into the local economy. So, they are rarely ticketed for loud pipes, although they’re illegal. Laws seem to be in abeyance during bike week. It’s an interesting way to live.

    After bike week has come and gone, the spring breakers arrive. College students from cold places come in early spring to enjoy what they consider warm weather. Locals are horrified at the sight of people swimming in the ocean in April; it’s still way too cold by our standards. Spring breakers are young, and reasonably well behaved. There is advertising headlined,  “Come on vacation, leave on probation.” Spring breakers do not inject nearly the amount of money into the local economy as race fans and bikers; and it seems their indiscretions are far less likely to be overlooked. Temporary holding cells are placed behind the Ocean Center every year during spring break for breakers that get out of line, mostly for under age drinking. In roughly two year cycles the welcome mat is extended and withdrawn. Sometimes the local politicians believe that their tourist dollars are important; other times the spring breakers are deemed more trouble than they’re worth. They stay on the beachside, eat fast food, sleep on the beach all day, and go to the bars at night.    

    After Memorial Day, budget conscious families vacation in Daytona Beach. The local politicians wish that Daytona could attract a more up-market class of tourists. Many of the families that vacation in Daytona are from southern states seeking the most economical beach vacation possible. As long as I can remember, Daytona Beach’s nickname has been “The Redneck Riviera”; a name that is embarrassing to some. I never minded the name.




    The best times of year in Daytona Beach are spring and fall. Spring -- after the breakers leave and before the summer families arrive; and fall -- after Labor Day and before Biketoberfest, (the other bike week in October). The town is empty, the roads are no longer busy, no lines at the restaurants. The weather is perfect, not too hot and not too cold. Daytona Beach transforms back into a sleepy beachside small town. These are the glorious days that make locals remember why we love it here.
       
      I feel at home in Daytona Beach, not just because I lived there for so long -- I felt at home right away. Maybe part of that feeling comes from knowing that people come to Daytona for vacation, many return year after year. And we, the lucky ones, live year round in this beautiful crazy corner of the universe.

UPDATE - 2/14/2013 - I love Daytona Beach. I'm hoping to move back near Daytona Beach soon. I don't know how or why this article has recently received so many hits ... thank you for the attention! And more pictures -

More Daytona Beach Photos

 

   

Did Someone Say Paella?

    One of my favorite parts of traveling is the food. I have compiled my own collection of recipes ruthlessly adapted and shamelessly replicated from the delicious food I have eaten while vacationing and traveling. I consider cooking an art form and recipes merely guidelines to be changed, evolved and adapted at will. I share with you one of my favorites, tested and perfected. Feel perfectly free to adapt it to your own tastes and remember to use the best and freshest ingredients you can find.

    I have prepared and served paella many times using the following recipe. I am not a purist, and I do not necessarily use the traditional methods. I do not cook over an open fire and I do not use a paellera. I use a cast aluminum pan with good result. Whatever pan you use, it should be heavy enough so that the heat will evenly distribute and it must have a tight fitting top.


Paella de Marisco

Ingredients:

One pound of medium sized shrimp (25-30 shrimp per pound), peeled and de-veined
One pound of scallops     
One half pound of clams
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
Two tablespoons of fresh cilantro, chopped
One medium onion, chopped
One half tomato, chopped
Olive oil
One quarter cup of mixed vegetables, frozen or pre-cooked (corn, peas, green beans)
One half cup of dry white wine
One and a half cups of medium grain white rice, uncooked and not instant rice
One packet of Goya brand or Accent brand seasoning, with achiote and saffron

1. This is cooked on stove top, and is essentially a one dish meal. Put enough oil into the pan to generously cover the bottom. Sauté onion and garlic in the oil. Add cilantro. When the onions are half cooked and semi-transparent add the scallops, shrimp and clams and sauté gently for about 10-15 minutes; until the shrimp start to change color.  Drain the liquid, and reserve it.

2. Turn your burner to low while you add the rice and measure the liquid. Cooking rice requires a 3:1 ratio of liquid to rice. Since this recipe calls for 1.5 cups of rice, you must add 4.5 cups of liquid for the rice to absorb the liquid correctly. So, add the rice to the pan. Then measure the reserved liquid, you will likely have about a cup, slightly more or slightly less. Add the half cup of wine; the remaining liquid is water. Use as much water as you need to make the total liquid including the reserved liquid, the wine, and the water to a total measurement of 4.5 cups. Add the spice packet. Turn up the heat, until it starts to bubble, it does not need to come to a full boil. Next turn down to medium, keep it covered, and let it cook.

It should take about twenty minutes for the rice to absorb most of the liquid. Now add the chopped tomato and mixed vegetables, and stir. Cover for about five minutes more, just long enough for the tomatoes and mixed vegetables to get hot. Then remove from heat and you’re ready to serve!

This recipe serves four hungry people. Black beans with a few chopped onions on top is the perfect complement. I have cooked this dish many times for American and British friends and family, and have always received high praise. But, if you cook for people from Latin America they will likely expect a rice dish to be toasted to crunchy on the bottom. To do this, turn the burner on very high at the last minute just long enough to sear the rice. It’s a little tricky on an electric stove, and most Americans would think it was a cooking mistake anyway, so I seldom do this.

This is an excerpt from an article previously written by this author and published in "Caribbean Property and Lifestyles Magazine". www.caribpro.com

Dusty's Early Travels

I could feel the time coming -- the time in April or early May when I would be taken out of school for two weeks. I was just a kid, about seven or eight years old. I'd hear the key turn and click in the front door, I hadn't gone to bed yet. It was Dad home from work. I was right there, asking the question: " Have you booked our vacation?" eagerly awaiting his answer. This time it was yes.

Great excitement grew inside of me as vacation grew nearer. My parents took us on vacation each year around this time, always to the same place, a Hotel, the Hotel Cala Fornells. It was a family run hotel back then, on the island of Mallorca, more commonly spelled Majorca, pronounced "My-orca". It had its own private beach and was about two miles away, down a winding and hilly road, from a town called Paguera. This island is one of  the main islands in the Balearics.

I packed my suitcase days before we were ready to leave for vacation. My love of aircraft at that early age was incessant, and this was my early love travel. The day wouldn't come soon enough, when we all got in the car and headed to the airport, London Gatwick, in England. After we checked our luggage and cleared passport control we'd wait in the departure lounge. There I would find a window and watch the planes taking off and landing.

Once it was our turn, we boarded and soon were in the air. That's the magical part about travelling -- flying. In a short two hour flight we would be on the ground in Palma. I will never forget the smell of that airport terminal -- the aroma of Spanish cigarettes and cigars. It wasn't offensive -- rather sweet and pungent. If I ever, to this day, smell the lingering aroma of Spanish cigarettes and cigars, it takes me back to these memories of childhood vacations.

Before long we would be at the Hotel Cala Fornells, we knew the owners and were quickly greeted. It was full board here, so we had missed lunch and would get a soda and snack from the bar. Mum would then head down to the private beach with us, masks and snorkels in hand. It was great for snorkelling and we would spend hours in the sea throughout our vacation, searching for unusual fish, seahorses, crabs and octopuses.

Sometimes we took the time to walk through the pine forests, to Paguera, where we played mini-golf, drank soda and ate ice creams. Back to the hotel at dinner time, and it's Paella, my favourite; followed always by ice cream, yoghurt or fresh fruit. Those yogurts were amazing, I always wanted to keep a lifetime supply of them. We took boat rides and go around some of the coves, go ashore, and even swim in some of that crystal clear sea. I remember my father hiring a small sailboat. I had sailed with my school, and when the rental company representative realised I could handle this thing, we were off, me teaching my dad how to sail!!

All too soon, we were back on the bus and heading to the airport, sometimes I would cry, I didn't want to go home, the love of travel was well inside me, no more paella, no more of that wonderful yoghurt, swimming in those crystal clear waters or playing mini-golf.

Travel has taken me far and wide. I have been fortunate in my life for that. Travel also found for me my wonderful wife in Florida where I now live, and we have an adventure together of traveling. Teaching my father to sail was great, it was the beginning of a whole new adventure. Maybe soon I'll get to write about more sailing adventures.

Island Dreams

    I dream of being on an island surrounded by brilliant green sea, a place where palm trees sprout from soft white sand. I want the sun to shine bright and the sky shine blue. The fresh air breezes caress my bare arms. I watch the boats tied to the docks slow dancing with the lazy waves. More boats rest on the beach. At my table beneath the palapa,  I kick off my sandals and feel the sand between my toes. My coffee and eggs taste better because I am here.  
    We plan our day. Whether we will walk to the far side of the island where tourists never go; and there marvel at the ruins left by the last hurricane so many years ago, slowly being rebuilt. Or we might sail out to swim by the reef; try to touch some colorful fishes before they dart away. Or maybe drive past the jungle to the end of the island where the shrine of the Mayan Goddess Ixchel remains standing on the rocky coast.
    Or maybe we stay in town. We can wander the narrow streets and shop at the sidewalk stores. Or watch the spray paint artists in the plaza create visions of other worlds. Or we can string the hammock between two palms and make our home on the beach for the day. From there we can watch the boats carrying day trippers come and go. Late in the day after a swim or two, when the sun grows hot, a waiter serves us five bottled beers in a bucket of ice, two apiece and we share the last.
    I dream of slow sunny days in my island paradise.
  

A Couple of Days in France - Boulogne

    The three of us set out around four in the morning to drive to the ferry port in Dover. Dusty had the unenviable job of having to drive on the left in England, then on the right in France in a right hand drive vehicle. I think the driving was harder for him coming home because we returned to England late in the day, so he had to switch sides of the road yet again, and this time it was dark. Dusty managed the driving changes like a champ, he always does.

    The car ferry was three levels with various shops, restaurants, arcades, gambling rooms, and seating areas. Big J and I, felt right at home in the video arcade, and started playing shoot ‘em up games straight away. None of us are gamblers, so we left that part alone. The duty free shop was nearly bare, and the deals weren‘t impressive. On the ferry ride home, at one of the many restaurants I ordered a lamb curry, a “Rogan Josh“. It was good, better than the curry I ate at a fancy Indian restaurant back in England. We were never able to see the white cliffs of Dover, coming or going. It was foggy leaving England, and dark coming back.

    In Boulogne, our very first project was to find the hotel we had booked online, a three star, named Hotel Alexandria. Dusty had visited Boulogne many times, but not recently. He said the town had grown a lot, and he had always come in on a private sailboat way at the opposite end of the waterfront. So, we drove in circles for a while. Dusty always insists we are not lost, because “we don’t do lost“. Dusty is great to travel with because nothing fazes him; and he always knows east, west, north and south.

    After a few passes through town, we parked the car to narrow our search to a few square blocks. We asked two young guys passing by, but they had never heard of it. Once we found the hotel, we realized we must have passed it by, over and over. At check in the desk clerk explained that the parking garage was around the block and next to a Chinese restaurant. Along with the room and garage keys, she wrote down a pass code to open the overhead door.

    If the garage were not being used for parking, it would make a great dungeon. As you drive in, there is a steep descent into a dark, damp, dingy, space. The ceiling is so low that most American trucks or SUV’s wouldn’t clear it; Big J’s head nearly touched the ceiling. We snatched our luggage and hurried out of there, happy not to have met any resident rodents.

    After dropping off our luggage in the room, we set out walking to explore. It was raining and cold, and I was the only one of us that was decked out for the weather. I planned ahead this time, and wore a pair of boots borrowed from Dusty’s mum, and an authentic Antarctica jacket, borrowed from my mom. Since I’m a Florida girl, I don’t own much in the way of winter clothes -- exactly one pair of shoes that cover my feet, and those are my sneakers. 

    We walked through the old town to the fort, and then back down the hill another way. Then we stopped in a coffee shop to warm up. To me the look of Boulogne is completely foreign and European -- tall old worldy buildings towering above narrow winding streets. The differences from one place to another is what I like -- the different look, different customs, and different languages. After living in Japan as a military brat, and then returning to California, the sameness of it all made me feel like the whole of the United States was one immense military base. This was the beginning of my love of travel.

Christmas Vacation - London

    Dusty, Big J, and I went to England and France for the Christmas holidays. It was very cold. We narrowly missed the even bigger chill that set in the day we flew home. The Saturday after Christmas, the three of us took the train from East Sussex to Charring Cross Station in London, walked across the bridge over the Thames and headed for the London Eye. We had high hopes that the lines wouldn’t be too long so early in the day, around 10:00 in the morning. But, no, the line was already deep enough to have made us stand shivering in the cold for hours. So we paid the extra money for the Fast Track tickets instead. It worked out to about $45. per person, and well worth it. We were onboard in less than 20 minutes.

    The London Eye, built by British Airways, is a huge glassed in ferris wheel; each compartment holds about twenty people. The highest point of the ride takes you 400’ above London, and offers breathtaking views of the city. The Thames snakes out of sight amid the rooftops. Having Dusty there to give us the guided tour and identify all those old buildings was a huge plus; but the handy guide books they give away on Fast Track might work almost as well.

    The views seen from the London Eye are impressive, and so is the way they handle security. Before boarding, handbags are checked and everyone is scanned with a metal detector. After the ride, security personnel enter each compartment and make a thorough check for anything left behind.

    Our next destination was the National Gallery of Art. Dusty and I had visited there before, and Big J couldn’t have cared less. The first time I went I cried in the Impressionist Room. I had seen so many of the paintings in books all my life, I was overwhelmed to see them in real life. The impressionist collection includes many paintings by well known artists like Degas, Cezanne, Van Gogh, and Manet. The show rotates so the paintings I saw there on my first trip had been replaced by others. I didn’t cry this time. I was happy to see more of my familiar favorites for the first time. Dusty and Big J seemed to enjoy some of the art, and patiently seated themselves on a bench once they grew bored. 

       Next on our list was a pilgrimage to Harrod’s so Big J could see the world’s most expensive store. Before doing that though, we headed to Leicester Square and into a  pub. Dusty and I had meant to have one and go. But, once inside the warmth, Big J planted himself comfortably at the bar, and we stayed a while. It was Big J’s first trip to London, and now his first pint in an English pub. Our turn to indulge him.

    We took the subway to the other side of London to get to Harrod’s. Dusty had warned me that London subways, the tube I think they’re called, gets very crowded. I reminded him that I once lived in Japan, nothing can be much more crowded than a Japanese subway at rush hour. I was right about the London subway, crowded, but not so bad. But, Harrod’s, the crowds there were intense. It was absolutely heaving. Dusty and Big J each bought something for friends back home. I just wanted to get out of there.
    Our day trip to London went well. Like most big cities, it is impossible to see all the sights in one day. The three of us were perfectly matched for this trip. Wherever I go, I’m happy as long as I see the art gallery. Dusty knows his way around London and never gets lost. And Big J was happy to see any of it, since it was all new to him.