Happy Valentine's Day!

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Knuckle Dragging

Trying not to think about the sore parts...

Sunday was a beautiful day up on the mountain. Jen had just started learning to snowboard and asked me to go up. It sounded like a challenge...

We went up to Meadows and did their 'newbie' package where you get rentals, a lesson and a lift ticket for the kiddie hill all at a decent price. The lesson started with the very basics, "This is a snowboard". After sliding around by the lodge, we finally got to go up the lift.

Snowboarding hurts a lot more than skiing. When you fall in skiing, you land on your side, which is a rather large contact area. With snowboarding, you either land right on you knees, or right on your butt. If any of my readers every try snowboarding for the first time, pray for soft snow.

It was humbling being out there watching people zip past me. The tables were certainly turned... My 24 years of skiing did help, however. By lunch, I was doing fully connected turns. A carved turn is a carved turn, regardless of the equipment. I found that was easier to do the steeper sections. Momentum would let me ride through crappy snow. On the flats, it was way to easy to catch an edge.

The worst thing about snowboarding: standing in the lift line. You can't put your free foot next the one in the binding, so it is always awkward. I never looked forward to the run ending.

It was fun to try. I'll be going up Thursday with work, but this time I'll be back on two planks.

Nostalgia

Clipper over Rio de Janeiro

I have no idea why, but I have suddenly become wrapped up in this nostalgic mood. First, I find that you can't send a telegram. Now, It's something you haven't been able to do for some time; cross the Pacific in a Pan-Am Clipper. I know there are people who long for the Orient Express or a grand ocean liner, but to me, the golden age of travel was with these beautiful flying boats. The idea of landing in a Polynesian bay and having a real flower lay sounds amazing. This was flying with luxury. Now, first class is just extra leg room and free booze.

When getting nostalgic, I know the bad things always hide in the cracks and no one thinks about them. It would take a week to get to Hong Kong. The price? About $10,000 in today's money. Still, I want to do it. Click on the pictures for more background.


Flying over an unfinished Golden Gate Bridge

I'll never get a telegram

Western Union stoped their telegram service on January 27. I wish I would have known, as I probably would have sent a couple. While there are obviously some negative connotations with them (a telegram from the military, obviously), but I just have this romantic view of the telegraph operator tirelessly keying out Morse code. The last commercial Morse code message was sent in 1999. I'm sure the current version is (or, should I say was) computerized, but I would love someone to come to my door with the "Message for William Anderson STOP."

Health to Your Hand

On Monday night, I was invited over to have dinner at my landlords home. I was happy to get the invitation and accepted right away. I went over there straight after work, which precluded me from picking up a gift to bring; a big Turkish no-no. I did have a package I was bringing over from their daughter, so I hoped that would let me off the hook. Their daughter, Nedine, lives in Eugene and I saw here a couple weeks ago while at an Ultimate tournament.

Upon arriving at their apartment, I quick figured out something was wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, but at least something was up. Gulin and Errol looked very happy. On drugs happy. It was odd. Finally I found out that Nadine had secretly flown to Izmir and surprised them, only arriving a couple hours earlier. Daughter home = very happy mother.

The dinner was exceptional. Lamb (obviously not chicken), rice in olive leaves, artichokes, a "Russian salad", and desert. All very tasty and a great first home cooked Turkish meal. The entire family has a very witty sense of humor and I found myself fitting in pretty fast.

At they end of the meal, I let Gulin know how wonderful I thought her cooking was. I then learned that the Turkish expression for "compliments to the chef" literally translates to "Health to your hand". Of course, I can't remember the actual Turkish... Keep that hand cooking, Gulin!