Epcot

After living in Florida for almost 5 years, we finally made it to our first Disney park, Epcot. And why not? After all, it is as much a part of real Florida as the Everglades or St. Augustine. Ever since the first Epcot brochure that I saw, I wanted to do three things:
1) Ride the monorail;
2) Find out what's inside the huge Epcot sphere;
3) Take a picture in each of the World Showcase countries and be able to say that I travelled around the world in just one day.

And so we charged the camera battery, drove an hour, parked the car in the Discover lot, paid for two adult one-day passes and followed several thousand other people through the park gates. The park itself has two parts - the Future World (with the monorail and a huge sphere) and the World Showcase, spread around the World Showcase Lagoon. We decided to follow the yellow brick road clockwise and see it all.

First stop was the Spaceship Earth, the iconic 180-foot tall geosphere. Inside, we boarded a little cart and moved through an animated display of the history of human communications, from cave paintings to instant messaging. The whole experience was very much like being inside a PBS educational program. It was not interesting and undoubtedly educational, just rather mellow and a bit old-fashioned.

Not to worry though, since we had plenty of thrills and excitement ahead of us. The Universe of Energy attraction was closed, so we went straight to the Mission: SPACE. It is the kind of ride that can send one to a hospital and should not be attempted by those that suffer from claustrophobia, motion sickness, back and neck problems, heart problems, high blood pressure, headaches, migranes, vertigo, or anxiety. For the rest of the tourists there are motion sickness bags located within an easy reach. The G forces and the super-realistic graphics will sure make you sick, especially if you don't follow the simple rules, such as DO NOT try move, close your eyes, or attempt to take your eyes off the monitors. Let's just say that this Mission: SPACE left me sick to my stomach, covered in cold sweat, hyperventilating, and experiencing a mild case of claustrophobia, something I'd never had before.

Feeling very sick I asked Chris to bypass the Test Track ride and we continued on to the World Showcase. Very slowly we made our way through Mexico and Norway. Every time I would turn my head to look at something, a wave of nausea and dizziness would flush over me. So I don't remember much of either of these showcases except a little boat ride inside the dark and chilly pseudo-Mayan pyramid. By the time we got to China, I started getting my bearings and was able to not only snap pictures of a fantastic floral dragon and a colorful pagoda, but even express mild interest in the menues. Unfortunately, the Circle-Vision 360 film about China's grandeur set me back a couple of steps on my way to recovery. The film reminded me of the best Soviet propaganda movies, with overjoyed kids with red kerchiefs tied neatly around their necks, red flags flowing over the Tiananmen Square and a larger-than-life portrait of the fearless leader guarding the gate to the Forbidden City.

There are many ways to cure post-motion sickness nausea. One is to sleep it off. Another one is to drink some Ginger Ale. Yet another one is to eat something with enough salt and spicy mustard to jolt your stomach back into submission. And that's exactly what I did once we reached Germany and its beergarden-style cafe. A fresh salt-covered pretzel and a bratwurst smothered in mustard and buried under a heap of warm sourkraut did the trick and I was back to feeling peachy once again.

What are the country showcases anyway? Well, these are mostly souvenir shops and ethnic restaurants hidden inside stereotypical structures and manned by country natives. Name a country, than quickly write down the first couple of things that come to mind and presto - you got yourself a country showcase. Mexico is Maya pyramids and sombreros. Norway is vikings and swords. Germany - beergardens. France -the Eiffel Tower and snobby waiters. Some country showcases have additional attractions, such as China's Circle-Vision fild, Japanese drummers, or American animatronics puppet show featuring Ben Frankling and Mark Twain.

And so we made our rounds, through the Italian vineyards and the a capella presentation of American patriotic songs, through the bonsai forests, and past the Moroccan belly dancers, bypassing the very tempting French bistro and British fish & chips place where you can drink beer while listening to the Beattles tribute group. And we finally made it to Canada. Even though Canada smelled like a medium-rare filet mignon (they have a steak house on premises) we decided against stopping there. After all, we can always go see the real thing, right?

Instead, we left the World Showcase alltogether and returned back to the Future World for some more rides. The next ride we went on was the "Honey I Shrunk the Audience". It is a very old, what's called "venerable", attraction scarred by a horrible Kodak-sponsored pre-show. And yet having legions of white mice run over your feet in the dark theater and a giant friendly dog sneeze in your face makes up all the outdated cheeziness of this attraction.



Next we spent hours in line waiting to get on the new attraction called Soarin'. The first hour was passed in playing an on-screen geography trivia. In 60 minutes I learned, among other things, that Atacama is the driest desert on the planet that once went 40 years without a drop of rain; while the dunes in the Namib Desert reach 1000 feet high; that at the current rate of destruction the rain forests will be completely destroyed in less than 50 years; that an acre of these said rain forest has more species of plants and animals than in all decidious forests of Europe; that Himalayan mountains are not only the youngest on the planet, but also grow at 4 inches a year; and that Bryce Canion is famous for its fantastic rock formations. But the ride was absolutely worth the wait. How did they do it, I don't know. But somehow the ride designers managed to create an exhilarating and very real hang gliding experience. At some point it seemed I could almost touch the water surface or kick a surfer right in the head. And the golf ball that went wizzing by only inches from my face was so real that it made me duck.

Our last attraction was the Test Track. Even though we were promised a 40-minute wait, the line actually moved much faster. The ride simulates testing conditions that cars experience during development process. It provides a succession of climbs, bumps, sharp turns and unexpected stops, a heat chamber followed by an ice chamber and a corrosion chamber, and a sudden acceleration on a super-elevated stretch. It's fun and all, but not nearly as much excitement as driving on I-4 through Orlando in heavy traffic or driving on I-95 through all the construction zones.



By the time we were done with the rides it started getting dark and the time drew closer to IllumiNations: Reflections of Earth fireworks display. Our plan was to watch the fireworks and then have a nice dinner at a Morroccan restaurant. Except we didn't know that the entire park essentially shuts down right after the fireworks, at about 9:15pm. And so we got some ice-cream instead and found a spot along the World Showcase Lagoon for firework watching. I'm not going to try to describe the show itself, except to say that it the most fantastic 15-minute fireworks, light, and music show that we've seen.

Wine Tasting

Dear Diary,

Two days ago I went to my first real wine tasting event. I was so excited yet nervous about being surrounding by snobby middle-age high-brows. What's all the excitement about? Well, I'm not a wine afficionado and have little interest in the subject. But for the past couple of weeks I was stuck in the house, mostly confided to my office. When I would get out, it would be to get the mail or do grocery shopping or go to the blasted mall. In short, it was a typical case of cabin fever.

Now, Chris on the other hand has gotten into wine tasting. It started with a book that I got him for Christmas, "Windows on the World Complete Wine Course". Next thing I knew, my husband was leafing through the issues of Food & Wine while sipping espressos at Barnes&Noble and spending money on esoteric accessories such as a professional bottle opener and a decanter.

While working in Deland, Chris found out about the Elusive Grape wine store. He used to spend his lunch breaks there, talking to the owner, Bill, or sitting in one of the overstuffed chair in the back of the store with an old issue of a Wine Spectator. Most of the time he would emerge from the store carrying a brown paper bag with a bottle or two. Chris even signed up for a 5-week Wine Appreciation course at a local community college. And so our spare closet was converted into a wine-cellar, our Wednesday nights at B&N were moved to Thursdays, and our wine glasses were filled with Merlots, Shirazes, and Cabernets on most evenings.

And that's how we ended up at the Elusive Grape's wine event a couple of days ago. We paid $10 each, got our glasses and duly entered our names in a raffle. Inside, a 100 or so people, all middle-aged and all with glasses in hand, were standing in the ailes between the wine racks, crowding around the counter, occupying every nook and crany of the lounge, and even spilling over to the sidewalk and into the back alley. Deland is a small town and most of the guests knew not only each other, but each other's friends, bosses, and most family members several generations back. We were clearly the outsiders. Feeling slightly (read: very) uncomfortable in this convivial atmosphere, I was pretending to study the labels while tasting some red wine. As I said, I can't tell the difference between a Merlot and a Cabernet, nor can I taste smoky flavor, ripe cherries, leather or any other tastes that supposedly are present in wine (I guess part of the problem is that I never bothered to spend time munching on BBQ chips or licking leather belts). My wine descriptives are generally limited to "dry, spicy, sweet, fruity, watery, and bitter". If it's not too dry or bitter, it's a good wine as far as I'm concerned. (here's a good article).

Nevertheless, things started looking up as I discovered the Chocolate Amore, a dessert Merlot with a distinct flavor and taste of all the warmth and spicyness of a raising-and-hazelnut dark chocolate bar. Now, that was a find worth the money! Perfectly content, I retired to the lounge with my perfect wine while Chris was breaking "one bottle at a time" rule and buying half the store's inventory. I forgave him for his acquisition included a bottle of my new chocolate obsession.

Soon enough we started some perfectly delightful and non-commital conversation with some perfectly middle-aged people. Hours later we emerged from the store into the perfect summery breeze and quietness, walked along the perfectly quaint streets of Downtown Deland back to our perfect little economy-size answer to the rising gas prices, and drove 30 perfectly safe miles back to our perfectly simple and inviting house.

Another Trip to NY - Part 2 (Parents)

Ok, so this part is long overdue. But my work has been really crazy lately. I even had to work until 7pm a couple of days. Of course, by now the details of our stay in NY faded and are of little interest to anyone. Let's just say that it rained non-stop for our entire stay in NY. So instead of going to the City or to experience some great outdoors in rural NY or PA, we divided our time between devouring my Mom's cooking and window-shopping at the Garden State Mall. Speaking of Mom's cooking, as if non-stop eating wasn't enough, we stopped by the Rockland Bakery on our last day in New York. There you can actually enter the production area and grab fresh out of the oven bread right off the conveyor. Not to mention that you can try all sorts of bread there for free as long as you don't take it outside. If you want to take it outside, you got to pay for it. Rules are rules and so we spent some time there stuffing our faces with deliciously fresh walnut-raising rolls.



To be fair, the weather cleared up for about 30 minutes on Sunday and we used that time to go on a walk around the Rockland Lake. We got there, got out of the car, and walked for about 200 yards when it started raining again. But I did get to take a couple of pictures.




At home, my parents provided us with non-stop entertainment of their own. Let me tell you, I doubt anyone else would be able to create a non-stop buzz out of half-finished dialogs, laughter, petty quarrelling, phone calls, and background TV noise that the way my folks do it. And then sometimes my brother would join our beehive as well. In short, it was a short, loud, and cozy visit.

Another trip to NY - Part 1 (the drive)

Last weekend Chris and I went to NY to visit my parents. Of course, they don't live in the City, that would be too expensive and crazy. Instead, they live in a typical burb in Rockland County, 30 miles away from the excitement.

Now, we decided to drive to NY instead of flying. Flying costs a lot. And even with the gas prices being what they are, driving is still cheaper for us. But between Daytona Beach, FL and New City, NY it's a lot of miles. It was kind of exciting driving there the first time. The second time wasn't too bad either. But after a couple more trips back and forth, one tends to loose any interest in the scenery and attractions along the I-95.

The South-North drive goes something like this:

Florida - we set the car on autopilot and drive with our eyes closed. After all, we drove this portion countless times. We open our eyes only to admire Jacksonville's skyline and its famous blue bridge. It is a very nice skyline that makes you want to move to Jacksonville to work in one of the downtown highrises and after work cross its bridges heading eastward, towards the oceanside neighborhoods. This is very misleading because Jacksonville has very little to offer except for red-necks, heavy traffic, suburban sprawl (it is the largest city in the US by land area) and one of the highest murder rates in the country. Of course, none of this information is listed on the city's website (except for it being the largest city by land area). So just trust me on this - don't move there!

Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina - this is the longest and the most boring part of the drive. I-95 doesn't go through any big cities there and stays mostly uncrowded. It becomes a 4-lane highway with a wide wooded zone separating North and South directions. The roadside is either an endless grassy marsh, easily identifiable by the smell of rotten eggs, or a dense woodline of mostly palmetto bushes and pine trees. The only two things that break the monotony of the drive are the billboards and the road construction. I don't know what the deal is with road construction in these states. I never see anyone actually working there. But the lines of orange and white traffic barrels stretch for miles and sleepy drivers are sure to get a jolt driving at 75mph over the patched roadways. This is a huge distraction to my favorite road game - counting the "South of the Border" billboards. Now, the billboards in this tri-state area are pretty boring. They are very old-fashioned and rarely rise higher than 20 feet or so. They don't show as much color, sprite, or sex appeal as the boards up North. I guess, they are built with a traffic-less highway and a bored driver in mind because they have almost no pictures, but force you to actually read. Most of these billboards advertise chain hotels, endless Cracker Barrells, BBQ restaurants, roadside strip clubs (windowless shacks no bigger than a one-bedroom house that sprout in the middle of nowhere and make one think of scenes from "Deliverance"), and discounted cigarettes. The only exception to this are the "South of the Border" billboards advertising all different ways Pedro can entertain you. At first they appear every 10 miles or so, but soon they are seen more and more often, counting down miles and even fractions of a mile to this Pedroland. It can only be compared to a Ron Jon Surf Shop billboard assault for those driving to Cocoa Beach on I-95 South. And just like the surf shop, the "South of the Border" amusement park/hotel/conference center/restaurant/fireworks store is kitchy, mostly empty, and infinitely disappointing. So just trust me on this - read the billboards (some are pretty clever) and skip the exit!

Virginia - Things start happening here - there are more lanes on the highway, more traffic, more signs to historical attractions, and no palm trees at all. This also marks the half-way point of our trip and unless we drive straight through we stop here for the night. I highly recommend Hampton Inn for its upscale interior design, highspeed Internet, super-comfortable mattresses and the most delicious little omelets that come with a hearty breakfast. In general, driving anywhere in the US makes me very appreciative. I generally love adventure and quirky attractions. But there are some things that I prefer to be as predictable as possible - clean restrooms with unlimited toilet paper along the way or Starbucks coffee, for example. The kind of stuff that most people here take for granted until they end up in another country, desperately looking for a WC only to find out that you have to pay to get in and the only toilet paper available is the used one (yes, it is gross, but I'm keeping it real). Driving also lets one appreciate how many wealthy people are in the US. High gas prices nonwithstanding, they chug along in huge RVs, sometimes towing an SUV or a boat, going South in the winter and North in the summer. And the rest of us shouldn't be jelous because we are reacher than most people on this planet. Otherwise how would one explain huge 18-wheelers rushing at neckbreaking speeds to deliver goodies to Publixes, Wal-Marts, and Home Depots all over the country.



Maryland - One must stay very alert because a lot of things start happening here. First of, the bathrooms at local gas stations stop being predictably nice. Some of them even stop being, period. On the way back we had to stop at a couple of the gas stations off of Baltimore-Washington Parkway before we actually found one that was open, reasonably clean, and could be locked from the inside. But if you stay on the Interstate, things actually improve with appearance of Service Stations, one-stop-shops with large restrooms, a food court, and a gas station or two with their own convenience stores. Imagine - all this and you don't even have to get off the highway! Of course, maitaining services like this costs money. And so tolls are introduced. The first toll on the way up North is around Baltimore. It's $2.00 and you get to drive in a pretty cool-looking tunnel for a minute or two. Another thing that happens in Maryland is highway patrol. I mean, of course, every state has them, but these guys are especially vicious in Maryland. They park the cars in the median, get out and literally flag down speeding cars right out of the left lane. Nobody goes the speed limit on I-95, so they must be making a killing on a traffic-free day. Lesson learned - stay in the middle lane.

Washington, DC - It's like right in the middle of Maryland. More traffic and construction. Don't leave I-95 trying to catch a glimpse of the national monuments - you will see the Capitol dome and the Washington Monument, but would have to pay for it dearly driving through slums for 30 minutes or so. Don't be fooled into taking a scenic ride along the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. It starts out innocently enough with tree groves, stone retaining walls, and the complete absence of billboards. But just as you start enjoying the boucolic views while getting all misty-eyed about the glorious job our National Park Service does here, it takes you right into the slums. But then again, we're talking about Washington, DC which is mostly a slum.

Delaware - ok, that's the state that really screws you. You only drive in it for about 18 miles, but you pay 2 (!) substantial tolls (about $3.00 each) for this privelege. Other states have "Welcome!" signs while Delaware has a state-of-the-art toll booth. Of course, the big attraction is to see Wilmington, DE - the town that gets more than half of our paycheck. But they cheat you here too. Of course, plenty of corporations are registered in Delaware, but not that many have headquarters there. Or maybe they try to keep low profile to avoid inevitable retribution from angry credit-card holders. Either way, Wilmington isn't much to look at.

Pennsilvania - ok-ok, we could take New Jersey Turnpike straight from Delaware, but we missed it and ended up stuck in traffic around Philadelphia.

New Jersey - Officially, the most irritating state to drive through. First, you get on New Jersey Turnpike, then - on Garden State Parkway. Either way, you get stuck in traffic. In Florida, if there's traffic it means somewhere out there there's an accident. It might even be clear on the other side of the highway, so everyone is rubber-necking, but it's there. In Jersey, traffic is existential in nature. That's just how things are in this state. Both the Turnpike and the Parkway are toll roads and we end up paying around $7.00 for going less than 200 miles. And they still can't fix their traffic situation?! But at the same time getting gas in New Jersey is a great experience. First of, it's much cheaper than anywhere else. Second, you don't have to get out of the car; an attendant will pump it for you and process the payment. And finally, they have LukOil gas stations and it makes me proud for my Motherland. Also, New Jersey wins a trophy for a state with least diverse license plates. They are all yellow and white and say New Jersey on them. No one tries to save the dolphins or manatees or express pride for being in the Armed Forces, graduating from college, or routing for the winning team. There are almost no plates from other states either, which just proves the point that the only people that find New Jersey tolerable are New Jerseyers themselves (and yes, it's a real word - I looked it up on Google).

New York - my parents live almost right on the border with New Jersey. We only get to drive about 2-3 miles on I-95 in New York. So we get off the highway after almost 17 hours of driving, standing in traffic, driving some more, getting mad, bored, sleepy, and irritated. Only 10-15 more minutes of relatively sane and definitely scenic (spring time in New York State) drive and we arrive to my parents' house!

P.S. To get an idea of what our drive home was like, just read this post from bottom to top.

Pie in the Sky

America is a great country! You don't have to be a John Travolta to own a plane. Ordinary people, average Joes and Janes, can with some studying get their private pilot license, buy a plane, and fly to Iowa for a family reunion or to Bahamas for a weekend of scuba-diving. Hundreds of thousands of little planes are available for purchase - new and used, historical replicas and real vintage things, planes that land on land and planes that land on water, planes ready to fly and planes in kits waiting to be assembled and even little helicopters.

Now, just as dog owners have dog shows, bikers have the Bike Week, and pumpkin growers have the Cirleville Pumpkin Show , the airplane owners and owner-wanna-bees have airshows and fly-ins. One of the most famous small plane shows is the AirVenture held annually in Oshkosh. Of course, that's in Wisconsin.

It would be really surprising if Florida did not have some kind of an airshow, right? I mean, we have everything else here (except for mountains, snow, and good-paying jobs). And so of course, we have the Sun-n-Fun airshow and fly-in held annually in Lakeland. AirVenture-shmareventure, our event even sounds cooler! Now, an airshow of this kind is not just an airshow. First, it lasts a whole week. Second, air performances with all the fly-bys, aerobatics, wing-walkers, precision flying, and such are held every single day of the week. Third, besides an airshow itself various exibits, classes, swap meets, and other events are held daily for everyone to enjoy.

Of course, Lakeland is 2 hours away from us. And the admission to the show is $30 per person once you get there. Neither Chris nor I are small aviation enthusiasts. So how come we ended up at the Lakeland Airport last Saturday and willingly paid $60 for something we had little interest in? It's elementary, my dear Watson! My father, who is a big general aviation enthusiast, drove all the way from New York just for this show.

My father used to fly little YK planes when he was young and impressionate. I have no clear idea as to what happened back then that effectively ended his pilot career, but I believe it involved some kind of a prank or probably even several that he pulled during his flight training. And so he got kicked out at some point. But, as they say in cheesy novels, the dream stayed alive in the young man's heart. Of course, being that my Dad lived in the Soviet Union, there was no way for him to fulfil his dream of flying outside a para-military flight school. And so the dream curled up snuggly in his cerebral cortex (or wherever these things are stored) and took a long nap.

It was awakened with Dad's arrival to the US, the land of unlimited possibilities. And it became particularly strong once Dad turned 60 and both my brother and I were semi-established on our way to that pie in the sky commonly known as The American Success Story. To make the long story short, the dream reared its ugly head and took posession of my Dad. He started spending long hours on Internet searching for good deals on planes and became a regular on eBay. He talked of FAA regulations, torque, altitudes and cross-country flights. He even started saving money. Of course, he understood his limitations, both financial and linguistic. So he set his sight low - on a no-license-required category of ultra-lights.

It would be a mistake to think that these things are cheap. Of course, compared to a Cessna, a $12,000 price tag is really a bargain. But let's not forget that $12,000 effectively buys you a motorized chair with a 5-gallon jerrican of gasoline underneath, a swamp-boat propeller strapped to its back and an oversized kite on top that keeps you from falling 500 or so feet to the ground. Of course, there are plenty of schools and clubs throughout the United States where one can pay money and experience a solo or a tandem flight on one of these things. But my Dad has been in the US long enough now to catch the ownership bug. And so he came to Florida to find an ultra-light of his dream. We followed.

The day we went to the show was hot, sunny, and very windy. After walking a bit around the ultra-lights, we left Dad and a couple of his friends and made our way to the airfield. There was but little time to spare as the skydivers drifted slowly on their canopies signaling the start of the daily airshow. As we tried to get closer to the stands, we passed a field of small planes parked neatly in rows with the camping tents taking the space between them. Just like on a regular camping trip, their owners were sleeping, snacking, sunning themselves, or in one case rocking in a hammock carefully hung under a wing. In short, it was very Norman Rockwell.

The closer we got to the airfield, the more crowded it got. Keeping one eye on a 11-plane formation flight, we passed by a showcase of military planes. It was a little bit weird to see people sitting under the guns of an F-15, hiding from the sun; children, excitedly watching the show from its wings; and a young Air Force pilot smiling good-naturadely while posing for a picture. It was weird because somewhere thousands of miles away another F-15 was probably executing a less friendly mission bringing fear and pain to both adults and children in its path.

After walking aimlessly for a little while trying to find some shade, we finally saw a patch of grass that was not only shaded by a wing of a small plane, but was miraculously unclaimed by anyone else. As far as we could see it had no trash or signs of spilled beverages or melted ice-cream either. We sat there and watched several great aerobatic performances for some time before my Dad called. He was done with the ultra-lights and was looking for us. After much confusion ("let's meet by a small plane, the yellow and red one") we finally found each other. Dad was very tired and sun-burnt. His leg was bothering him and he was limping more noticeably than usual. And so instead of returning to our seats, we tried to find something nearby.

Luckily, we were next to a row of YK planes that were flying in a show earlier. We stretched out on the grass under a red-star studded wing and watched the rest of the show. At some point the owners of the plane, two men from Tennessee, showed up and Dad started a conversation with them. The airshow was almost over. And of course, the best or at least the most impressive, was saved for last. We watched as the American newest figher plane, the F22-Raptor, took off, completed several fly-bys and performed some aerobatics. Finally it was joined by an F-15 and a P-51 for the final fly-by.

The show was over and everyone headed home. Most people shlepped to the parking lots. Ultra-light owners were disassembling their flying chairs and carrying the propellers to their trucks. The real planes lined up at the runaway waiting to take off.

On the way home we stopped to buy some freshly-picked strawberries. There are tons of strawberry fields in and around Lakeland. It is the heart of the strawberry country, so to say. For 6 dollars we bought a big cardboard box full of freshly-picked strawberries. And so, in a strawberry-smelling car, we sped up to I-4 in a vain attempt to beat its eternal traffic.

A big box of strawberries proved a bit too much for us. We ate the berries ourselves and force-fed them to guests, we gave them away to friends, and had them for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and occassional munch attacks. But there was no end to them. We even baked a strawberry shortcake. Days later we still had a couple of pounds of berries in the refrigerator.

A boring lunch break

What is the difference between Xander, my cat, and a loquat?

This sounds like a stupid question. But if you think about it, both are round, orange in color, sweet and soft. But of course, there are important differences that one must be aware of. Xander is furry and a loquat's smooth skin is covered with fuzz. Xander can jump up and down and sideways, while a loquat can only fall down. Xander chases lizards and birds, but a loquat is indifferent to both. Finally, Xander is raised inside a house and is pretty much useless. A loquat grows outside and is used in landscaping as well as for eating.

One of the pictures here is of a loquat and the other one - of Xander. Thanks to my little explanation you will never get mixed up over which one to eat and which one to pet.

But that's not it! This is Ponce Inlet Lighthouse as seen last Saturday from a park in New Smyrna Beach. I also saw a family of dolphins there, but they were too hard to photograph. So just use your imagination.

COLD HARD CASH - 2

Why "2"? Because I wrote the first "COLD HARD CASH" entry on Monday, but just as I was about to post it the electricity went out with a bang, literally and so all my efforts were erased. Lesson learned - "Save as Draft" button comes in handy after all.

So needless to say that I was extremely pissed. It took me two days to get over this and I've still not come to terms with what happened on Monday. Besides, it was a really nice story that I wrote.

In my description of an opera, Rossinni's "The Barber of Seville", I described, quite eloquently, the feeling of smug content with life, universe and everything that one experiences watching, free of charge, a very good performance of a great opera. Yes, that was the last performance of the 2005-2006 International Series presented by the Daytona Beach Symphony Society. And it was the last time in the foreseeable future that we got to go to a major cultural event for free. Therefore, I lamented in my last post, that from now on we must pay COLD HARD CASH to enjoy theatrical performances here in Daytona Beach, a town not known for its student or military discounts.

In my original post that didn't survive the blackout, I also provided an entertaining description of our trip to the SkyVenture Orlando, an indoor skydiving attraction. It would be useless to try to re-create my story again. Да, рукописи может и не горят, но электронные статьи точно исчезают без следа. So now noone, except for myself, Chris, Albina and her daughter Bianca, will know how great it was to float 10-15 feet off the floor in a 250-mile per hour wind inside a pressurized tunnel. Noone will know how difficult it is to stay afloat and not crawl on the floor like some bottom-feeder in a fish tank. Nor will I explain again how even the smallest movement throws you off balance and make you twist and turn and fly all over the chamber, hitting the glass walls and generally providing entertainment to the spectators outside. The only thing that I will repeat is that high price non-withstanding ($20/minute for an introductory 2-minute session), it is tons of fun and is worth doing at least once. For more than that we'll need, once again, COLD HARD CASH.

Bike Week 2006

What is a Bike Week, you ask me? It's another manifestation of an American love affair with all things loud and gas-consuming. It's a city-wide celebration of the three Bs - bikes, boobs, and beer. It's a mostly red-neck festival of loud pipes, leather chaps worn over bikini bottoms, five-dollar cans of Bud (if you count a tip), live music performances, and politically incorrect T-shirts. It's a Spring Break for yer old, bald, fat and ugly. It's a party that goes on for 10 days, 24 hours a day and that brings close to 500,000 people into Daytona Beach and its environs.

Yes, it is true that every year the Bike Week grows more diverse. There are more young people attending, more women, more black folks, more Northerners, and more foreigners. But overwhelmingly it's a red-neck and Southern event through and through, at least for now.

Now, let's get something straight right away. First of all, what goes on at the International Speedway during these 10 days should not be referred to as Bike Week. It's a commercialized event heavy on big names in motorworld and stinking of corporate America. I'm not saying don't go. By all means do, if you want to see some pretty darn good bike racing or test-drive a nice new Buell, Harley, or BMW. Nor am I saying not to go to the Daytona Flea Market, just around the corner from the Speedway, a great place for fresh fruits and vegetables, kitchy souveniers, a daily motorcycle stunt show and a swap meet. Nor am I advising you against going to Ridgewood Ave, lined up with souvenier stalls, for some shopping, to Ormond Beach for some old-fashioned Harley experience, or to Samsula for a night of female cole-slaw restling. All I'm saying is if you want a real party, go to Main Street. And that's exactly what Chris and I did last Saturday.



First, we went to a free concert at the bandshell on the beach. It's really a very nice place with great ocean views. Plus there are several restaurants, a Marble Slab Creamery, a Starbucks, and a large movie theater. So first we watched the concert and then decided to get some coffee for Chris at the Starbucks (see picture).

Then we slowly made our way along the beach to Main Street for the big party. As usual, it was jam-packed with bikes and people. To get a temporary relief from streams of leather-clad human flesh we stopped by a couple of bars. Now, there are several that are a must-do during Bike Week. Dirty Harry's is famous for it's thrice-daily wet T-shirt contest. Any woman is welcome to give it a try. There are usually 5-6 contestants per show - 1-2 "heifers", 1-2 desperate housewives in their last attempt to get attention to their overly tanned, wrinkly and sagging body-parts, and a couple of wayward college chicks drunk off their behinds at 2PM on a hot Saturday afternoon. The boobs are all freshly enlarged, except on the "heifers", with the white stretchmarks and the bluish veins forming a "Stars and Stripes"-like patterns. It's all good to most of the spectators who haven't been sober since last Monday.

A good place for food and music is the Full Moon. They always have a huge stage set up outdoors with rock concerts going on pretty much non-stop. The food is fresh and abundant if not cheap. A plate of shredded beef with rice and veggies will set you back $15. Better go for a flavorfull turkey leg, as big as your head or a jumbo hotdog generously smothered in ketchup, mustard, and relish. You have two choices here. You can take your food inside a dark saloon, away from the blistering afternoon sun, with the floors a bit sticky from all the spilled beers (and hopefully not from something else). Or you can grab one of the bar tables outside, preferrably away from the stage and under an umbrella and watch other patrons getting their pictures with the smiling beer girls. They are believe it or not one of the best-looking ones that the Bike Week can offer.

Froggies is a fun place too. Right of the bat, you are offered a good spanking from a couple of scantly-clad chicks. They do it for tips, administering the "punishment" with a rather heavy hand, according to the suckers that pay to be belted in public. Once inside though there isn't much to do, but drink. I don't really know if they have any concerts there at all. But the music is loud and in the evenings there are dancing girls, the stripper-wanna-be ones, shacking their money-makers on little baby-blue platforms.

Finally, no trip to the Bike Week is complete without visiting the Boot Hill Saloon. It's right across the street from an old cemetery which explains their motto "Better Here Than Across the Street". And who can argue with that! It is indeed better at the Boot Hill than almost anywhere else on Main Street. First of, they have probably the best-designed T-shirts and ladies love wearing them too. Second, even though their beer girls are not the prietiest bunch, they sure dress the best or should I say, the least, always setting the fashion for Bike Weeks to come. They ditched T-shirt and bikini tops in favor of underware and pasties years ago. Since then, the pasties got progressively smaller while the body parts under them - progressively bigger (evidently, plastic surgeries are becoming more affordable; I think Wal-Mart should look into the opportunity). I bet $10 that next year it's all going to be nothing but some body-paint. But apart from girls, they do play some good-old country music and their performers are most engaging. Then again, how can one not want to join in signing the "Gang Bang" song?!




And what about the bikes, you ask? Well, what about them? With so much going on, bikes are constantly in the background. The stream of riders along Main Street never lets up. The lucky ones manage to find a free parking spot along the street. Others drive slowly through to A1A and funnel out, seeking $5 parking spaces around the neighborhood. If you enjoy Discovery and TLC channels' shows about custom-built bikes, you'll see a lot of that here as well. Lately trikes and bikes with side-cars are all the rage. But pretty much any bike with custom paint, outrageous accessories, or nice detailing (including girls in the back) draws attention and countless camera flashes. Many people come to the Bike Week every year. Many bring the same motorcycles so occassionally we get to see a familiar "face" (paint job). Many people bring their bikes here to sell and the price tags range from $4800 to $75000.

Now for the men that drive these bikes. They sport beer-bellies of various sizes, facial hair, wear black Bike Week-themed T-shirts or muscle shirts, have a beer in one hand and a digital camera in the other. They show various stages of farmer's tan, from lobster-red (most often) to leathery brown, and many - elaborate tatooes. Of course, this description applies to a lot of Bike Week women. So here's a tell-tale sign - no make-up and loose-fitting jeans mean it's a dude. There are some extreme cases, of course.

But overall, you gotta love the Bike Week. It's loud, obnoxious, in-your-face, and expensive to go to. But here in Daytona Beach, where the rest of the year we live on a set of the "Cocoon", it feels great!

My Typical Work Day

Today is Thursday and the week is winding down already. Less than an hour into my work day I decided to keep track of all the things I do from 9 to 5 (5:30 to be exact). Why? Well, first of all, I don't have much to do right now, although it might change any second. And then, you get a better understanding of what my job is like and how cool (or not) it is.

9:00am - Turn the computer on, log in to the Mondial server, and check my Outlook. I have only 4 e-mails this morning - not bad at all. Two of the e-mails let me know that one of the projects is going to be delayed. Another e-mail is from my new Russian translator confirming his availability for a project I sent to him yesterday. The last e-mail is from my boss, letting me know that he initiated a wire transfer to one of our overseas agencies.

9:05am - I reply to all the e-mails and contact my co-worker, Leo, to let him know about a delay in project delivery. Find out - Leo is sick and is taking a day off. Oh no!!! My typical day just turned a bit less typical. Let's hope that it's a slow day because now I'm not only getting all Leo's e-mails, but also am taking over all his projects for the day.

9:10 - I'm checking my Hotmail account. I won another ProZ challenge and earned 4 more points. I'm quickly approaching 100 points! ProZ is an on-line community of translators and interpreters. We go there sometimes to look for translators, especially for obscure languages. Also, translators use ProZ for help with difficult or unfamiliar terminology. Other translators offer their answers or comment on previously suggested answers. Then an asker gets to choose the best answer and the answerer is awarded 3-4 points (unless it's a non-profit question). Usually about 15-20 questions are posted daily in my pair (English<>Russian) and in my areas of expertise or interest. I answer a couple of them at most and comment on another 2-3.

9:35 - checking my e-mail took me a bit longer than usual since I was interrupted a couple of times by my boss. He just wanted to make sure that I was ok getting all that extra work. No biggie, I told him, at least for now. And then I checked my Army e-mail. I usually don't get anything very important or interesting there unless it's a week before my drill weekend.

9:40 - breakfast time

9:45 - back to work. First, I had to search for some English<>Albanian translators for a potential project. I found several on the ATA website and shot them an inquiry e-mail. Then I received a fax from one of our clients approving a quote we gave them yesterday for English>French translation. So I prepared a work order for one of our translators and sent the project out to her. She confirmed almost immediately - fantastic!

10:03 - our Marketing Manager, Robin, IMs me and asks to give her a call. She has a log book, hand-written in Traditional Chinese, that needs to be translated into English. She sends it to me for review. Immediately, we see several potential problems - barely readable text, uncertainty over a character count, and such. I decide to send it to our Chinese team in Canada (has to be native English speakers for an into English translation) for evaluation. Let's see what they have to say.

10:15 - two projects arrive. One is a Spanish translation and one is a German into English translation. So now I have to check both translations against the originals. Even though I don't speak either Spanish or German, I do catch errors from time to time. After the files are checked, I have to do word count and enter the billing information into our master Profit & Loss grid. Then I create invoices and send them out to the clients along with the translated files. Finally, I close the projects and take them off my task schedule.

11:14 - Eleonora stops by. She's off today and we had plans to go to the beach on my lunch break. I'm not sure if we're still going to do it since she's got a migrane headache.

11:18 - Robin sends me another project - two files are to be translated into Spanish and two - from Spanish into English. I'm going to take a look at the files, figure out who to assign them to, prepare the work orders and send them out.

11:36 - Just as I finished sending the EnglishEnglish project out, another one came in. This one is English>Chinese and requires some desk-top publishing services. Here's the problem - we're not sure if it's into Traditional Chinese or Simplified Chinese. So we're trying to find out.

11:47 - I got a call from дядя Гриша, Irka's father. He works for IMA, the motorcycle organization that hosts Bike Weeks in Daytona. Apparently he's right here, at the race track. Maybe he'll stop by.

12:02 - The so-called "typical" day of mine turns out anything but "typical" after all. Uncle Grisha stops by. I finish all my e-mails and a couple of work-related phone calls and we go out to lunch. Of course, it's a Bike Week in Daytona, so everything is packed with people. It takes half an hour just to get to the beach side. Fortunately, Johnny Rockets is not too busy when we get there. They have great views of the beach and probably the best milk shakes in town.

14:48 - I'm back from my very extended lunch. Tons of e-mails. First, my Russian translator needs clarifications for an on-going project. So we're contacting the client. Also, teh quotes that I requested earlier today for possible Chinese and Japanese translations came in and they don't look good. Forwarded them to our marketing manager for consideration.

15:04 - one of the projects that were completed earlier today has to be re-sent to a different person because the original contact person is at a trade show in Germany, the lucky SOB!

15:07 - received two new files from our old client, a company that makes fireplaces. Now I'm going to prepare a quote and send it out to the client for approval.

15:17 - called one of the clients to ask to send me the project files. They signed an agreement earlier today, but still haven't sent the file, duh!

15:19 - a English>French translation project is in. I'm checking it, completing the usual P&L entry and an invoice, and sending it on its way to the client. Thanks God it's a small project, not much to check!

15:25 - trying to call one of the translators (English>Japanese) to confirm that she received a project I sent her yesterday. But she's not in the office and I can't reach her on her cell phone.

15:28 - ok, seems like things have quited down a bit. So I'm just checking my Hotmail account and my military e-mail. My friend Rob dropped a line (he's chilling in his new pad in St. Pete, FL). Hope he follows the link and gets to this blog. Hey, Rob, how does it feel to read 'bout yourself? :)

15:53 - not much is going on right now. At this point, all the projects that were due today came in and were processed and sent out to the clients. So I'm using this time to add new proposals to my database.

16:00 - break time is over. Next request for a quote just came in. This one will take a while to prepare - first I have to download a huge file from the client's FTP; then I have to run the Acrobat version of the file through a program that will convert graphics into editable text. This will allow me to do a word count for the file. Only after all this prep work will I be able to put together a proposal.

16:08 - still have 25 minutes left for FTP download. I'm going to finish watching the PBS movie "The Elegant Universe" (based on Brian Green's book with the same title that deals with quantum mechanics and strings theory).

16:32 - play time is over. More work just came in. I have to e-mail one of our agencies in China and find out if they are available for a large translation and how soon can they do it.

17:33 - just finished putting together a large proposal. See my note from 16:00. Sent it out. Also, had to e-mail last-minute changes to our agency in China regarding a possible project that just got downsized big time (4000 words instead of 20000). Also, had to e-mail a French Canadian translator requesting him to translate some words that he missed in the last project.

17:35 - time to sign out and go home. Wait, I am home already! Ok, then it's time to sign out and go cook some dinner.

Survivor - Army Style

That was some weekend! Our brigade decided to finally start doing some real soldiering and not just paper pushing. And so they held a soldier competition called..."Survivor". Each unit was supposed to provide several 5-person teams that were to "outrun, outwin, outsoldier, outeverything else". I ended up being a team leader for my team which was a bit scary.

The competition started on a Saturday morning with a breakfast at a mess hall at Camp Blanding, FL. Well, at least I thought of breakfast as an unofficial first obstacle since it was absolutely disgusting. I guess, not all the teams survived it either, since only 31 out of 33 teams reached the starting point. The second unofficial challenge of the day was to survive an unexpectedly cold morning while geared up for an exceptionally hot day. While at it, we also made some last-minute adjustments to our gear, locked and loaded our M-16s with some blank ammo, and mentally prepared ourselves for the tasks at hand (read - complained about how we didn't want to do it).

At exactly 0900L or 9AM ET for non-military folks, my team was finally given a green light. We briskly marched the first 500 yards to our first challenge - a Leadership Reaction Course. That's where an entire team had to solve an action puzzle based on one of many scenarios. In our scenario, we had to move a box of food concentrates across a contaminated stream over to the other side to save some starving people. The concentrates looked very much like red bricks and on closer inspection proved to be them. And of course, there was no bridge over the stream, just some randomly placed stumps, some not big enough for even one person to stand on them. There were some other details of the assignment that added to the challenge. We were given 5 minutes to come up with a plan and 15 minutes to execute it. Surprisingly, we completed the mission in 2.5 minutes! Even more surprisingly, we got a "NO-GO" on it! Why? Because we forgot that the concentrates aka bricks couldn't be exposed to air for more than 5 seconds at a time. If only we remembered to close the box every time a brick was added or removed!!!

A bit bummed, we left the Leadership Reaction Course and set off on our way to the next checkpoint, a Confidence Course. Some teams actually ran this 3-mile long stretch. Chris' team did. My team wisely decided not to get in over our heads and just walk as fast we could. 59 minutes and some seconds later we arrived at the obstacle course. This was not a timed event, but the points were taken off every time a team member failed to complete an obstacle. And there were plenty of opportunities to fail - 19 obstacles total. Some were ridiculously easy, such as crawling under a barbed wire, walking on balance beams, or moving through a scary-sounding "Nut Cracker" (it's on one of the pictures). Others were really challenging, such as a very long "Monkey Bars" obstacle, an incline wall, and a "Belly Buster". I am very proud to say that I passed all of the obstacles. But overall, my team did rack in enough penalties to set us back quite a lot. Nevertheless, our spirits were high since we knew we did our best and earned some bumps, bruises and cuts along the way that would guarantee us some admiration from our non-military friends and family.

After taking a short break, we set off on the next leg of our course to the IED lanes. Unfortunately, we lost one of our soldiers to a case of blisters. We knew that we would get some more penalties for loosing a team mate. And so we tried to move even faster to the IED (Improvised Explosive Device) lanes, some 3.8 miles away. And we did it, covering almost 4 miles in 54 minutes! Needless to say, we were pretty tired and hurting by then.

The IED lanes were probably the most interesting and the most challenging part of the entire competition. After a short break and a situation brief, we set off tactically (in a wedge formation, weapons at ready) on a narrow sand road into the palmetto underbrush. Some 300 yards into the patrol, our "point" (a forward person) noticed a canister that we suspected was an IED. Immediately we halted all movement, then moved back, set up the perimeter and called in with a report. We thought we were safe, but all of a sudden a second IED, this one much better camouflaged, went off right next to us. Our point person became a casualty. We had to react correctly, figuring out her injuries and providing first aid, calling for MEDEVAC, and then putting her on a litter and moving her 300 yards to a safe area. Now, that last part almost killed us all - carrying a 110-lbs casualty on a litter through loose sand and dirt is not as easy as it sounds. The 110 pounds become more like 1100 pounds and the 300-yard level road feels like an up-hill marathon. But we did it all from start to finish in 9 minutes and 25 seconds - not bad at all!

After catching our collective breath and drinking some water, we pressed on to our final challenge, only 1 mile away. We were so tired and aching! And the dirt road was killing us. But we all broke out into a run as soon as we caught a glimps of the finish line. And so we ran straight to our final challenge - disassembly and assembly of M-16s. I don't really remember much about this task other than we were tired, thirsty, my feet were killing me, and my hands were shacking as I was putting the parts back together. But apparently we finished it with little penalty.

Grateful for this thing to be over, we climbed on an old bus (no AC) and were driven (what a novel experience!!!) to the fun part of the day - a paintball game. On any other day it would be a great opportunity. But we were all very tired to really enjoy it. Still, we got off the bus, received our gear and a block of instructions on use of paintball markers, and set of on a foot patrol. Our first scenario was to react to a sniper attack. Right after it, without a warning, a second scenario - an ambush - kicked in. 5 minutes later, covered in sand, paint, and bits of green plastic from the balls, we returned to our bus.

After getting back to the barracks we had to immediately turn our weapons in and go to an award ceremony. Another team from my unit finished 1st. Chris' team got 2nd place. And I have no idea about my team except that we weren't in the top three. By the time we got to the barracks it was past 8pm (or 2000L for us military people).

It is Tuesday now. The sense of accomplishment and the feeling of pride subsided. What remains are the blisters, the bruises, and the sore muscles. Oh, yeah, and this is going to be an annual event. But no matter what, it was still a pretty freaking cool thing to do! Give me another couple of months to recover and I just might want to do it all over again!

Pictures

Too lazy to write. A picture is worth 1000 words, apparently. It takes me about 2 hours to write 1000 meaningful words. So I just saved myself (and you all) tons of time!

250,000 or so people in the stands watching the Daytona 500 Nextel Cup Race


Most of these people drove to Daytona (imagine the traffic). And plenty of those that drove, drove RVs (and then probably bitched about the cost of gas).


Blissfully oblivious of all the commotion in the area, Xander spent his Daytona 500 sleeping on the stairs.