Disney, Dec 2010
13 years ago
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Pretending
Her face was covered by the strands of hay-colored hair that fell over her eyes as she brought her head down. She pushed them back quickly, but they wouldn't stay behind her ears. Her long fingers grasped the purple-inked pen tightly and she scribbled roughly, pressing the tip of the pen as she wrote her name on the medical form. L-A-U-R-A. Her eyes had the fragments of tears peeking through the corners, but she kept them at bay. She was not about to fall apart in a waiting room full of overgrown grown-ups who would probably tell her she had no business being there.
When she was finished with the forms, she stood up quickly and walked past a woman with the protruding belly who sat with her hands on each side, providing comfort to the parasite inside. She avoided looking at the roundness that it had, fearing that if she stared long, her own stomach would morph into that shape.
Back at her seat, she put one headphone on and listened to Shakira and Alejandro Sanz. She liked their song, "Una Tortura," because it made her feel like dancing. Dancing liberated her from the monotonous trash that she had every day and it transported her into a world that she could feel happiness, something she seldom felt. She had briefly felt the happiness when Doug told her she was beautiful and that he could never live without her, but those had proven to be lies and she had chased him out of her life when she told him she had a parasite in her belly.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought to herself, watching the pregnant lady again. That lady was happy; she could smell the happiness and it made her sick.
"I have to throw up," she announced quietly to no one in particular, and just as quietly made her way to the bathroom.
"Laura Alvarez?" A large nurse called her name right when she was walking out of the bathroom.
"Here," Laura mumbled, and she followed the nurse in aquamarine scrubs.
When she was finished with the forms, she stood up quickly and walked past a woman with the protruding belly who sat with her hands on each side, providing comfort to the parasite inside. She avoided looking at the roundness that it had, fearing that if she stared long, her own stomach would morph into that shape.
Back at her seat, she put one headphone on and listened to Shakira and Alejandro Sanz. She liked their song, "Una Tortura," because it made her feel like dancing. Dancing liberated her from the monotonous trash that she had every day and it transported her into a world that she could feel happiness, something she seldom felt. She had briefly felt the happiness when Doug told her she was beautiful and that he could never live without her, but those had proven to be lies and she had chased him out of her life when she told him she had a parasite in her belly.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought to herself, watching the pregnant lady again. That lady was happy; she could smell the happiness and it made her sick.
"I have to throw up," she announced quietly to no one in particular, and just as quietly made her way to the bathroom.
"Laura Alvarez?" A large nurse called her name right when she was walking out of the bathroom.
"Here," Laura mumbled, and she followed the nurse in aquamarine scrubs.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Half-Colombian
I've always considered myself both Colombian and American. I am a first-generation Colombian-American whose parents migrated to the US as adults. I was born and raised here, although in my younger days I spent a few summers in Colombia. My nostalgic attachments to all that's Colombian come courtesy of my parents and the displaced version of Colombian foods and rituals I grew up with. However, as I enter now into my 30's, the idea that I'm really half-Colombian really hits home. It's almost like an identity crisis. I am not the Colombian girl I thought I was. Sure, I speak Spanish a lo paisa, I enjoy bunuelos for Christmas, and I can dance vallenatos and cumbias, but in Colombia, I'm a gringa, an extranjera, a daughter-of-Colombians. Whenever someone asks, I say I'm Colombian, but then I have to quickly clarify - when asked "de que parte?" - that I was born here to Colombian parents I wasn't born in Colombia, so how could I claim it as a nationality? I'm a half-Colombian.
The same could be said about being half-American, although I guess if you really want to get down to the basics, I'd be three-fourths American and one-fourth Colombian. After all, I don't like natilla or sancochos, and I'm not that fond of sporting the yellow-blue-and-red bracelets and bands to sport my nationality. I was born here, and I am proud to be an American where we have the ability and freedom to work hard and bask in the opportunity of getting ahead. I even enjoy country music. But I'm not really "American" here; I'm a Latina or a Hispanic. American-born but not really American, whatever that means.
I've noticed, though, that the older I get, the more American and less Colombian I seem to become. It makes me sad because I still live in the memories of Colombia and I want my son to grow up with that, only I have to concede that he is second generation American, born to a Colombian-American mother and a Chilean-German-American father. He will know the fragments of Colombian-Chilean-German culture that my husband and I have brought with us. For me, the memories that I hope to pass on include the music, the alegria and the bunuelos and empanadas.
Yesterday, I was almost Colombian again. We got together to celebrate a birthday and most of my mom's family was there - seven of the eight women and three men that make up my mom's siblings (as an only child, I absolutely loved having such a large, extended family). In addition to my mom and aunts, the house was decorated with cousins ranging from the mid-thirties to the pre-teens, our grandfather - the patriarch of the family - and other in-law family members. As in most of our celebrations, the men took out their guitars, passed out miscellaneous musical instruments to those willing participants, and the voyage into a musical past began. The songs were mostly those that they grew up listening to although a few current ones made their way into the repertoire, such as "Camisa Negra" and "Esta Vida." As in my memories, my grandfather danced a cumbia with each of his daughters and one of my aunts video-taped the celebration.
When I was younger, such celebrations were many times met with crafty resistance on my part. When we had the Noche Buenas or New Year celebrations, the locations were filled swiftly with family and friends, and then just as swiftly divided by age groups. The children would run and jump and play around the adults, while the teenagers sulked in corners at having to attend such "boring" events. The adults would sit around in fold-up chairs piled neatly against the walls and the chatter would be nostalgic reminiscences of times past- who married whom, who died, who had left, who was now working for so-and-so, and who had migrated to another country. They would laugh and cry and say, like Alan Jackson's song, "Remember when..." Then, I was one of the teenagers, sipping aguardiente behind my mother's back (because my father never went to these events - he always stayed home) and thinking about the other things I could be doing that did not involve being there. Today, though, I miss those gatherings. The responsibilities of adulthood and the change that comes naturally with time prevent me from being part of those celebrations as much. Now, most of my family lives a good two hours away that, while not that much, prevents family-hopping during holidays since most of my husband's family lives locally. So the times, like yesterday, when everyone comes down here to celebrate, I immerse myself in the memory-made-real.
And it leaves me feeling almost Colombian, at least while I'm there. Once I'm back in my car, going back to my Colombian-Chilean-German-American home, I lose some of the "Colombianness" and become half-Colombian again.
The same could be said about being half-American, although I guess if you really want to get down to the basics, I'd be three-fourths American and one-fourth Colombian. After all, I don't like natilla or sancochos, and I'm not that fond of sporting the yellow-blue-and-red bracelets and bands to sport my nationality. I was born here, and I am proud to be an American where we have the ability and freedom to work hard and bask in the opportunity of getting ahead. I even enjoy country music. But I'm not really "American" here; I'm a Latina or a Hispanic. American-born but not really American, whatever that means.
I've noticed, though, that the older I get, the more American and less Colombian I seem to become. It makes me sad because I still live in the memories of Colombia and I want my son to grow up with that, only I have to concede that he is second generation American, born to a Colombian-American mother and a Chilean-German-American father. He will know the fragments of Colombian-Chilean-German culture that my husband and I have brought with us. For me, the memories that I hope to pass on include the music, the alegria and the bunuelos and empanadas.
Yesterday, I was almost Colombian again. We got together to celebrate a birthday and most of my mom's family was there - seven of the eight women and three men that make up my mom's siblings (as an only child, I absolutely loved having such a large, extended family). In addition to my mom and aunts, the house was decorated with cousins ranging from the mid-thirties to the pre-teens, our grandfather - the patriarch of the family - and other in-law family members. As in most of our celebrations, the men took out their guitars, passed out miscellaneous musical instruments to those willing participants, and the voyage into a musical past began. The songs were mostly those that they grew up listening to although a few current ones made their way into the repertoire, such as "Camisa Negra" and "Esta Vida." As in my memories, my grandfather danced a cumbia with each of his daughters and one of my aunts video-taped the celebration.
When I was younger, such celebrations were many times met with crafty resistance on my part. When we had the Noche Buenas or New Year celebrations, the locations were filled swiftly with family and friends, and then just as swiftly divided by age groups. The children would run and jump and play around the adults, while the teenagers sulked in corners at having to attend such "boring" events. The adults would sit around in fold-up chairs piled neatly against the walls and the chatter would be nostalgic reminiscences of times past- who married whom, who died, who had left, who was now working for so-and-so, and who had migrated to another country. They would laugh and cry and say, like Alan Jackson's song, "Remember when..." Then, I was one of the teenagers, sipping aguardiente behind my mother's back (because my father never went to these events - he always stayed home) and thinking about the other things I could be doing that did not involve being there. Today, though, I miss those gatherings. The responsibilities of adulthood and the change that comes naturally with time prevent me from being part of those celebrations as much. Now, most of my family lives a good two hours away that, while not that much, prevents family-hopping during holidays since most of my husband's family lives locally. So the times, like yesterday, when everyone comes down here to celebrate, I immerse myself in the memory-made-real.
And it leaves me feeling almost Colombian, at least while I'm there. Once I'm back in my car, going back to my Colombian-Chilean-German-American home, I lose some of the "Colombianness" and become half-Colombian again.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Day 3 - Castawat Cay
When we woke up on day 3, we had already arrived at Castaway Cay; we were waiting for the authorities to clear the docking. We got up, got dressed and packed our day bag; then we headed up to deck 9 for breakfast at our usual place: the Beach Blanket. While we were up there, we took the opportunity to take some pictures of the island and of the infamous Flying Dutchman from Pirates of the Caribbean. The ship is docked off Castaway Cay and there are some amazing photo opportunities that capture the ship with the cruise liner on the background.
We disembarked and made our way to the first character greeting: Daisy Duck. We meandered down the road towards the beach destination, stopping for any and every photo opportunity that was available. Have I mentioned that I'm a sucker for photos? A bit further up were Minnie Mouse and Goofy, and of course, we got a picture with them. All the characters were decked out in their summer wear.
The island is beautiful and a curious mixture of Caribbean meets Disney. The buildings, such as the post office, are similar to those you will find at the parks, so it makes you wonder whether the buildings were there before or if Disney set it up with props.
The walking from the ship to the beach takes about 10 minutes. However, half-way there is a tram, and L loves any type of train so we opted to ride it to our destination. If he could have stayed on the tram and ridden it back and forth all day, he would have been content. Once at the beginning of the family area, we were greeted with the last few strollers and wagons that were complimentary on a first-come, first-serve basis. We took hold of a wagon, dumped our stuff, towels, and L in it, and proceeded to work our arms as we pushed and pulled the wagon through the sand. Before we got to the sand, though, we were at a mercantile-like shopping area where little stores boasted Castaway Cay, Disney, and Bahamas souvenirs. In front of that store were the restrooms and outdoor showers appropriately titles "Suns" and "Daughters." Further up the road was an open circle and a small shack where the DJ played music and the characters engaged in some dancing with the guests. I didn't make it past that point. From the map I could see there was a teen area further down, and, at the end of the island, was the secluded, adults-only beach.
But we didn't go forward. We took a left, onto the sand, following the path of tourists who had the same agenda: make it to the beach. By now, it was about 10 AM, and it was cloudy with some rain threatening in the far end of the horizon, behind the buildings. We got the complimentary floats - one large rubber tire, the other a flat, blue mattress. The latter one ended being the most useful. We had received complimentary bike rentals and scuba rentals, but unfortunately, a few hours is just not enough time when you have a toddler in tow that needs to nap.
The beach was full of people. You could barely make out the water on the family beach; instead, you saw a sea of multi-colored dots decorating the little blue that was in between them. Towards the left was the ship, docked and probably hosting very few of its passengers. Between the ship and the beach was the Flying Dutchman first, and then the jet-ski and boat rentals. After that was a small shack with the scuba gear. Next to that shack was the beach, which was separated into the snorkeling area and the family beach area. On the far right hand corner, before the teen beach, was a wooden playground for the older kids right in the water. Kids could swing from one side and jump into the water, or they could monkey around until the were tired and them jump in.
We parked our stuff a few rows back and then went into the water. L was in heaven. Before, when we've gone to a beach, there have been many waves, so he has been afraid. Here, there were no waves, and he felt as if he were in the pool only the water was different (and tasted different, too, as was apparent by his wrinkling of the nose when he took a swig of salty sea water). We were in the water for a while, got some pictures taken by cast members - the only pictures while we were in the water since I was afraid to get my camera wet! - and rested on the blue, mattress float. L even tried "surfing" on it. We spent the next few hours in and out of the water, playing with sand, and making friends with fellow cruisers. Finally, J went to get some lunch and brought it back, but we both quickly realized that sand + food is not a good equation. By now it was about 1:30 PM and it was past L's nap, so we wrapped up and moved towards the hammocks where there was some palm tree shade. Although no hammocks were available, J and L were able to lay down on a lounge chair and soon, both father and son had drifted into a beach-induced slumber. I sat next to them reading Madeleine Blais's Uphill Walkers and avoiding the bird-bombs that were thrown my way. Good luck or not, I'd rather not have to clean up after bird excrement, thank you very much.
At around 3:30 some thunder mixed between the island music, and although L was still sleeping, we decided to pack up. We carefully placed him in the wagon, still asleep, and made our way back to the front. We browsed through the stores, went to the rest rooms, took more pictures and before we knew it were back at the wagon/stroller return place. We took L out, awake but still sleepy and grumpy, and rode the "too-tain" (choo choo tren aka tram) two times before getting in line to board the ship. By the line was Donald Duck posing for pictures, so, you guessed it - we took pictures.
That night was Pirate's night. We dressed L in his pirate costume from last year and then made our way to the usual: lobby for pictures and that night's restaurant, Animator's Palate again. In the lobby was Mickey dressed as a swashbuckling pirate, and the picture of Mickey pirate with L pirate is priceless! At the restaurant, all the servers were dressed as pirates and wenches, and the meal and theme that night revolved around pirates. Even the show was an Argh-inducing show with limbo and dancing in which L and I joined. That night, they brought out a large chocolate cake to celebrate J and L's upcoming birthdays and my what a tasty cake that was! We shared with our neighboring table since it was much too much for us to eat.
Afterwards we walked around and made our way for the Pirate's Deck Party where Mickey and the gang had to save the day from Captain Hook and his pirates. It was awesome! Each character had his/her/its own fave dance moves and music he/she/it shared with the crowd and then Mickey came swinging down from one side of the ship to the stage, marking the beginning of a beautiful fireworks display. Yes, fireworks aboard a ship. Apparently, Disney is the only cruise line that is allowed to do so. I thought L would be afraid but no, he was enthralled (although I think part of that was that he was tired!).
Soon after the Disney channel stars joined the Pirate deck party, we called it a night and went back to the room.
We disembarked and made our way to the first character greeting: Daisy Duck. We meandered down the road towards the beach destination, stopping for any and every photo opportunity that was available. Have I mentioned that I'm a sucker for photos? A bit further up were Minnie Mouse and Goofy, and of course, we got a picture with them. All the characters were decked out in their summer wear.
The island is beautiful and a curious mixture of Caribbean meets Disney. The buildings, such as the post office, are similar to those you will find at the parks, so it makes you wonder whether the buildings were there before or if Disney set it up with props.
The walking from the ship to the beach takes about 10 minutes. However, half-way there is a tram, and L loves any type of train so we opted to ride it to our destination. If he could have stayed on the tram and ridden it back and forth all day, he would have been content. Once at the beginning of the family area, we were greeted with the last few strollers and wagons that were complimentary on a first-come, first-serve basis. We took hold of a wagon, dumped our stuff, towels, and L in it, and proceeded to work our arms as we pushed and pulled the wagon through the sand. Before we got to the sand, though, we were at a mercantile-like shopping area where little stores boasted Castaway Cay, Disney, and Bahamas souvenirs. In front of that store were the restrooms and outdoor showers appropriately titles "Suns" and "Daughters." Further up the road was an open circle and a small shack where the DJ played music and the characters engaged in some dancing with the guests. I didn't make it past that point. From the map I could see there was a teen area further down, and, at the end of the island, was the secluded, adults-only beach.
But we didn't go forward. We took a left, onto the sand, following the path of tourists who had the same agenda: make it to the beach. By now, it was about 10 AM, and it was cloudy with some rain threatening in the far end of the horizon, behind the buildings. We got the complimentary floats - one large rubber tire, the other a flat, blue mattress. The latter one ended being the most useful. We had received complimentary bike rentals and scuba rentals, but unfortunately, a few hours is just not enough time when you have a toddler in tow that needs to nap.
The beach was full of people. You could barely make out the water on the family beach; instead, you saw a sea of multi-colored dots decorating the little blue that was in between them. Towards the left was the ship, docked and probably hosting very few of its passengers. Between the ship and the beach was the Flying Dutchman first, and then the jet-ski and boat rentals. After that was a small shack with the scuba gear. Next to that shack was the beach, which was separated into the snorkeling area and the family beach area. On the far right hand corner, before the teen beach, was a wooden playground for the older kids right in the water. Kids could swing from one side and jump into the water, or they could monkey around until the were tired and them jump in.
We parked our stuff a few rows back and then went into the water. L was in heaven. Before, when we've gone to a beach, there have been many waves, so he has been afraid. Here, there were no waves, and he felt as if he were in the pool only the water was different (and tasted different, too, as was apparent by his wrinkling of the nose when he took a swig of salty sea water). We were in the water for a while, got some pictures taken by cast members - the only pictures while we were in the water since I was afraid to get my camera wet! - and rested on the blue, mattress float. L even tried "surfing" on it. We spent the next few hours in and out of the water, playing with sand, and making friends with fellow cruisers. Finally, J went to get some lunch and brought it back, but we both quickly realized that sand + food is not a good equation. By now it was about 1:30 PM and it was past L's nap, so we wrapped up and moved towards the hammocks where there was some palm tree shade. Although no hammocks were available, J and L were able to lay down on a lounge chair and soon, both father and son had drifted into a beach-induced slumber. I sat next to them reading Madeleine Blais's Uphill Walkers and avoiding the bird-bombs that were thrown my way. Good luck or not, I'd rather not have to clean up after bird excrement, thank you very much.
At around 3:30 some thunder mixed between the island music, and although L was still sleeping, we decided to pack up. We carefully placed him in the wagon, still asleep, and made our way back to the front. We browsed through the stores, went to the rest rooms, took more pictures and before we knew it were back at the wagon/stroller return place. We took L out, awake but still sleepy and grumpy, and rode the "too-tain" (choo choo tren aka tram) two times before getting in line to board the ship. By the line was Donald Duck posing for pictures, so, you guessed it - we took pictures.
That night was Pirate's night. We dressed L in his pirate costume from last year and then made our way to the usual: lobby for pictures and that night's restaurant, Animator's Palate again. In the lobby was Mickey dressed as a swashbuckling pirate, and the picture of Mickey pirate with L pirate is priceless! At the restaurant, all the servers were dressed as pirates and wenches, and the meal and theme that night revolved around pirates. Even the show was an Argh-inducing show with limbo and dancing in which L and I joined. That night, they brought out a large chocolate cake to celebrate J and L's upcoming birthdays and my what a tasty cake that was! We shared with our neighboring table since it was much too much for us to eat.
Afterwards we walked around and made our way for the Pirate's Deck Party where Mickey and the gang had to save the day from Captain Hook and his pirates. It was awesome! Each character had his/her/its own fave dance moves and music he/she/it shared with the crowd and then Mickey came swinging down from one side of the ship to the stage, marking the beginning of a beautiful fireworks display. Yes, fireworks aboard a ship. Apparently, Disney is the only cruise line that is allowed to do so. I thought L would be afraid but no, he was enthralled (although I think part of that was that he was tired!).
Soon after the Disney channel stars joined the Pirate deck party, we called it a night and went back to the room.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Pics from Days 1 & 2
Here are a few pictures from Days 1 and 2.
The columns in Triton's restaurant.
Getting ready to sail away.
The sailaway party on Day 1.
Mr. Panda and Mickey enjoying the sights of Nassau.
We found them - and the towel monkey hanging from a clothe's hanger with my sun glasses on - when we went back to the room on Day 2 to get ready for Gala night.
The Splash Area by Mickey Pool:
Mickey's hand is holding up a water slide that desemboca on the pool side; it's also holding up a star-shaped shower head for the baby splash area.
Mickey's hand is holding up a water slide that desemboca on the pool side; it's also holding up a star-shaped shower head for the baby splash area.
The columns in Triton's restaurant.
Getting ready to sail away.
The sailaway party on Day 1.
Mr. Panda and Mickey enjoying the sights of Nassau.
We found them - and the towel monkey hanging from a clothe's hanger with my sun glasses on - when we went back to the room on Day 2 to get ready for Gala night.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Disney Cruise, Day 2 - Nassau
Monday morning we woke up around 9 am, much later than the usual 7:30 wake time for L, but who could blame him since it'd been around 10 pm the night before when we finally went to sleep and he'd barely napped the day before.
We got up, opened the curtains, and saw that we were arriving at Nassau. We had decided to stay on board instead of racing through Nassau with a toddler in tow and juggling nap time, snack time, and crankiness. Instead, we booked a relaxing spa treatment for couples, and the corresponding time in Flounder's Nursery, all around L's normal nap time. We threw on our bathing suits and headed to breakfast at Beach Blanket Buffet. This time, after piling all the food we could eat on each of our trays - eggs, bacon, Mickey waffles, Mickey chocolate waffles, biscuits, an array of fruits, and some other breads - we made our way with the help of the friendly staff to the outside seating area. With L in his Mickey high chair, we all delighted in the morning sun and breeze and the view of Nassau's port. Atlantis was visible from our seats, so we snapped away as many pictures as we could.
After breakfast, we discovered the Cove, the intimate, adults only coffee/bar lounge area towards the front of the ship. There, they steamed some milk for L, and made me a Disney version of Starbucks's caramel macchiato. Let me tell you, I'm a Starbucks fanatic, but Disney's version was almost as good, if not better!
We hung out at the kiddie splash area since L is not potty trained yet, but he didn't miss the pool. He had a great time, although at first he was reluctant to go in by himself. He clung to the border, shying away from any stray water that went his way. Within a little time, though, he was running around and laughing merrily while he got wet. He even tried copying the older kids and blocked the nozzles so that water would splash everywhere.
Soon it was time to head to the nursery. Unlike the first night, L was not having it and I had to go in with him. Eventually, he relaxed, and we went on our way to the spa for our couple's massage, facial, and champagne with chocolate-covered strawberries. The massage was relaxing and much-needed, but I could have done without the facial. It was the first facial I'd ever done and honestly, I wasn't impressed. I think I'd rather spend those extra 15 minutes on kneading over balled muscles. After that we headed into the rain room, which was basically a combination of steam rooms, saunas, and hot chairs, where our champagne and strawberries were waiting for us. I guess it's fine for those that enjoy being sedentary in a room overflowing with heat, but being that I just need to step out into my front yard and get hit with the same force of humidity as was in that room, I quickly grew bored and restless and decided to head back out into the heat of the sun - at least that was partially dry heat!
I picked up L, and headed back to the Mickey pool along with one of the nursery care givers who was heading there with a bucket of toys. I made a quick stop at Pinnocio's Pizzeria, grabbed a few slices of cheese pizza, and made ourselves home on one of the tables across from the pool. L went in and had more fun while I waited for J to leave the retreat of the rain room.
Back in the room, we prepared for Gala night. I dressed up in a 50's inspired black and white dress with an empire waist (which I later realized was not very flattering); J dressed in khaki pants, a light blue buttoned shirt, and a navy sports coat; and L was decked in khaki pants and a checkered, blue and brown shirt. I kicked myself for not having taken his little suit, but at least he and his daddy matched outfits. We went to the lobby and had a photo shoot with Mickey and Minnie, both dressed in their gala attires: Mickey in a black and white tuxedo and Minnie in a radiant, white, glittery dress with feathers at her feet.
Dinner that night was at the Animator's Palate. If anyone's watched the Travel Channel (or traveled in a Disney Cruise before), then s/he will know exactly what I'm talking about. Animator's Palate is designed to be the sketch-book of all the Disney classics. Hanging on the walls in black and white are framed "sketches" of scenes from Pocahontas, 101 Dalmatians, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, and many other films. The waiters and staff are all dressed in black and white, and even the table cloths are decked in the contrasting shades. As the dinner begins, the lights dim a little and soon, the sketches on the wall begin to gradually transform into their full-color finales; then the paintings change into a completely different scene, again in black and white, and the process from sketch to full-color begins anew. Towards the end of the meal, the waiters disappear, and before you even miss a refill, they are putting on a show for you.
After dinner, we meandered towards the theater to watch Toy Story the Musical. It was cute, but we didn't stay the entire show as L hadn't napped that day and was extremely tired (and moody), and it actually got a little scared towards the end. So back to our room to call it a night it was.
We got up, opened the curtains, and saw that we were arriving at Nassau. We had decided to stay on board instead of racing through Nassau with a toddler in tow and juggling nap time, snack time, and crankiness. Instead, we booked a relaxing spa treatment for couples, and the corresponding time in Flounder's Nursery, all around L's normal nap time. We threw on our bathing suits and headed to breakfast at Beach Blanket Buffet. This time, after piling all the food we could eat on each of our trays - eggs, bacon, Mickey waffles, Mickey chocolate waffles, biscuits, an array of fruits, and some other breads - we made our way with the help of the friendly staff to the outside seating area. With L in his Mickey high chair, we all delighted in the morning sun and breeze and the view of Nassau's port. Atlantis was visible from our seats, so we snapped away as many pictures as we could.
After breakfast, we discovered the Cove, the intimate, adults only coffee/bar lounge area towards the front of the ship. There, they steamed some milk for L, and made me a Disney version of Starbucks's caramel macchiato. Let me tell you, I'm a Starbucks fanatic, but Disney's version was almost as good, if not better!
We hung out at the kiddie splash area since L is not potty trained yet, but he didn't miss the pool. He had a great time, although at first he was reluctant to go in by himself. He clung to the border, shying away from any stray water that went his way. Within a little time, though, he was running around and laughing merrily while he got wet. He even tried copying the older kids and blocked the nozzles so that water would splash everywhere.
Soon it was time to head to the nursery. Unlike the first night, L was not having it and I had to go in with him. Eventually, he relaxed, and we went on our way to the spa for our couple's massage, facial, and champagne with chocolate-covered strawberries. The massage was relaxing and much-needed, but I could have done without the facial. It was the first facial I'd ever done and honestly, I wasn't impressed. I think I'd rather spend those extra 15 minutes on kneading over balled muscles. After that we headed into the rain room, which was basically a combination of steam rooms, saunas, and hot chairs, where our champagne and strawberries were waiting for us. I guess it's fine for those that enjoy being sedentary in a room overflowing with heat, but being that I just need to step out into my front yard and get hit with the same force of humidity as was in that room, I quickly grew bored and restless and decided to head back out into the heat of the sun - at least that was partially dry heat!
I picked up L, and headed back to the Mickey pool along with one of the nursery care givers who was heading there with a bucket of toys. I made a quick stop at Pinnocio's Pizzeria, grabbed a few slices of cheese pizza, and made ourselves home on one of the tables across from the pool. L went in and had more fun while I waited for J to leave the retreat of the rain room.
Back in the room, we prepared for Gala night. I dressed up in a 50's inspired black and white dress with an empire waist (which I later realized was not very flattering); J dressed in khaki pants, a light blue buttoned shirt, and a navy sports coat; and L was decked in khaki pants and a checkered, blue and brown shirt. I kicked myself for not having taken his little suit, but at least he and his daddy matched outfits. We went to the lobby and had a photo shoot with Mickey and Minnie, both dressed in their gala attires: Mickey in a black and white tuxedo and Minnie in a radiant, white, glittery dress with feathers at her feet.
Dinner that night was at the Animator's Palate. If anyone's watched the Travel Channel (or traveled in a Disney Cruise before), then s/he will know exactly what I'm talking about. Animator's Palate is designed to be the sketch-book of all the Disney classics. Hanging on the walls in black and white are framed "sketches" of scenes from Pocahontas, 101 Dalmatians, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, and many other films. The waiters and staff are all dressed in black and white, and even the table cloths are decked in the contrasting shades. As the dinner begins, the lights dim a little and soon, the sketches on the wall begin to gradually transform into their full-color finales; then the paintings change into a completely different scene, again in black and white, and the process from sketch to full-color begins anew. Towards the end of the meal, the waiters disappear, and before you even miss a refill, they are putting on a show for you.
After dinner, we meandered towards the theater to watch Toy Story the Musical. It was cute, but we didn't stay the entire show as L hadn't napped that day and was extremely tired (and moody), and it actually got a little scared towards the end. So back to our room to call it a night it was.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Disney Cruise, Day 1, Cont'd
The meal at Tritons was pleasant, and our waiters were superb. Zeldy, from the Philippines was our server and Danielle, from England, was our Assistant server. I'm not sure if it's the same in other cruises, but it's great to meet people from all over the world. Taking the line from one of Disney's rides, "It's a small world after all!" They were so nice, and they made us and L feel at home. On the first night at Triton's, there was a small cup with L's name on the lid, drawn alongside some Mickey ears. Once they knew he liked orange juice, L would have two cups waiting for him at dinner-time: one with water, the other with orange juice.
Our table, #57, would remain the same table throughout the cruise and Zeldy and Danielle would rotate with us throughout the restaurants. We did not share a table with anyone, and there were always plenty of alternatives, and crayons, to make dining a wonderful experience. And to end the night at Triton's, they brought me a birthday cake and sang happy birthday. Granted, it's early for my birthday, but this year's a biggie for me - the big 3-0. So we took the opportunity to celebrate the birthdays on board. The cake was a yellow-cake with strawberry cream filling in the middle and whipped, buttercream topping. There was a piece of white chocolate decorated with a picture of the cruise ship and the words "Happy Birthday" written on the bottom. That piece sat on top of the cake. It was scrumptious! Before we received the cake, we had ordered dessert: creme brule with a cappuccino. Yum! And to top it off, the steamed some milk for L!
The night ended with a walk around the ship and a trip to Flounder's Nursery, where L couldn't wait to go in and play. We decided to try it out and left him there for an hour while we walked around some more and headed over to try and see "The Golden Mickeys," the first night's broadway-type show. Unfortunately, we were exhausted from the day's trip, so we rounded L, met Goofy in a sailor's suit along the way, and headed back to our room. We had a towel elephant on our dresser and some chocolates, along with the next day's agenda on the Disney's Navigator (or was it Mickey's Navigator - I can't remember right now). L had his bath time, and the three of us headed to slumber land on their queen bed.
Our table, #57, would remain the same table throughout the cruise and Zeldy and Danielle would rotate with us throughout the restaurants. We did not share a table with anyone, and there were always plenty of alternatives, and crayons, to make dining a wonderful experience. And to end the night at Triton's, they brought me a birthday cake and sang happy birthday. Granted, it's early for my birthday, but this year's a biggie for me - the big 3-0. So we took the opportunity to celebrate the birthdays on board. The cake was a yellow-cake with strawberry cream filling in the middle and whipped, buttercream topping. There was a piece of white chocolate decorated with a picture of the cruise ship and the words "Happy Birthday" written on the bottom. That piece sat on top of the cake. It was scrumptious! Before we received the cake, we had ordered dessert: creme brule with a cappuccino. Yum! And to top it off, the steamed some milk for L!
The night ended with a walk around the ship and a trip to Flounder's Nursery, where L couldn't wait to go in and play. We decided to try it out and left him there for an hour while we walked around some more and headed over to try and see "The Golden Mickeys," the first night's broadway-type show. Unfortunately, we were exhausted from the day's trip, so we rounded L, met Goofy in a sailor's suit along the way, and headed back to our room. We had a towel elephant on our dresser and some chocolates, along with the next day's agenda on the Disney's Navigator (or was it Mickey's Navigator - I can't remember right now). L had his bath time, and the three of us headed to slumber land on their queen bed.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Disney Cruise - Day 1
We recently came back from our first Disney cruise. It was a 4-day trip to Nassau and Castaway Cay in the Bahamas, and it has been one of the best vacations we have take thus far. We're relatively new to cruising, only cruised once before with Carnival, and we are absolute Disney freaks, so it just made sense to try this out as a way of celebrating our birthdays. Let me tell you that the magic, as cliched as it may sound, of Disney is magnified tenfold in the cruise. The attention to detail, the customer service, the drive to make sure everyone is happy is amazing. The food is delicious, and the activities for the kids, well, priceless. Here's a recap with some pics.
Day 1 - Embarkation day at Cape Canaveral
We had to drive up to Cape Canaveral on the same day the cruise left, so it was a race to the Disney finish line. We left a little later than expected and had to stop to get lunch for a cranky toddler, but amidst all the rush, we made it at the port with time to spare - barely. It was 2 and we needed to be on by 4pm. We arrived and went quickly through the check-in-process, got our pictures taken by smiling "cast members," and held our breaths in as we crossed over the planks that connected us to the hotel on the water. As we approached the entrance, there were rows of men and women in sailor's uniforms greeting us. One young man stopped us, asked us our last name and where we were from, and then proceeded to announce our arrival into the ship via loud speakers: "The A family has arrived all the way from Miami!" All the white and navy uniformed men and women clapped and we were ushered in, flustered and smiling, while the next family received Disney's version of the royal treatment.
Once onboard, we took a few seconds to look around and made our way to change our dining time. We had been allocated the 2nd seating, which was at 8PM, much too late to have dinner with a toddler. Thankfully, the change was no problem, and we were freed of the unwanted time. Our new dining time was 5:45 - much more reasonable.
We headed to the cabin, and again briefly looked around; we had to hurry or we wouldn't make lunch. As soon as we walked in, we noticed the two bathrooms on our right. One contained a sink and toilet, the other a sink and bathtub. Yes, bathtub. From what I hear, very few cruised have bathtubs. This tub was a savior for giving L his bath because it also contained a shower hose that we could bring down and "hose" him down. I'm not sure what the correct term for that is, but I'm sure you get what I mean. After the bathrooms was the bed, a royal-blue-covered queen bed, in which all three of us ended sleeping, limbs nestled between limbs. Beyond the bed was the sofa, which also converted into a bed, a desk with a mini-fridge, TV and vanity mirror, and the window - a large port hole that provided ample light and scenery when we were close to land. The room was a good size compared to other cruise cabins, although like with all cruise cabins, they're not good for those who are claustrophobic.
We dropped off the stroller and our day bag, and made our way up, with welcome papers in hand, to the 9th deck (we were on the 2nd) where the Beach Blanket restaurant was serving lunch for the next 15 minutes. The Beach Blanket was a buffet eatery that became our breakfast place of choice over the next couple days. This day, for lunch, they had a varied selection of sea food, chicken, and beef. I had some fish and chicken, J had some chicken and beef, and L had some chicken and mac-n-cheese with fruits. Oh, and sodas are included in the cruise! That was a pleasant surprise! We ate inside, quickly, but savored the moment of rest. We were finally on board and there was no more need to rush anywhere.
After the meal, we meandered a bit but made our way back to the room to throw on the life jackets for the mandatory drill at 4 pm. It was funny walking around with the neon orange flotation device sitting awkwardly over the shoulders and around the chest, and we weren't sure where exactly we were going, but we saw many orange dots bobbing on the 4th deck and assumed we were in the right place. We were. After the drill, and after leaving the life jackets back in the room, we went back up to deck 9 for the sailaway party. There, some cast members along with the characters danced and sang, while the horn on the ship tooted the "When You Wish Upon A Star" melody. All passangers were watching, dancing and taking pictures or video. Many had their swim suits on because they'd been smart and arrived at noon to take advantage of the pools. Others, like us, were walking around in part-beachy, part-traveling clothes wrinkled by sitting too long. A young boy caught my attention. He was about 7 or 8, with a bald head, holding the hand of a woman. His shirt read "The Make-a-Wish Foundation Made My WIsh Come True." I stopped breathing for a moment and my eyes welled up with tears. I said a prayer for him, and thought how much fun and excitement he must feel knowing that he got to do this before... it really made me stop in my tracks and ponder the meaning and justice of this life.
After the characters and cat members sang, they introduced some of the Disney Channel stars: Michel Musso and Jason Earles from Hannah Montana, and two others. It was pretty cool, although I laughed quietly because here I was, an almost-30-year-old mom getting somewhat excited about Disney Channel stars. I mean, I watch the shows and they remind me of younger days, so I thought it was pretty cool meeting/seeing them.
Once that was over, we made our way back to the cabin to get dressed for dinner. We had dinner at Tritons first. Tritons is a restaurant "under the sea," inspired by none-other than The Littler Mermaid. Several enchanting mosaics depict King Triton's underwater kingdom and family. There are columns throughout the restaurant featuring circular tops, reminding guests of bubbles. The fare is French, with many traditional French dishes, such as escargots and creme brule. I got brave and ordered the escargots baked in a garlic sauce. I've always wanted to try them, and this day, I felt brave. When the appetizer arrived, it looked more like a dessert dish than slimy, crawling critters. To my surprise, there wasn't much distaste. They were rather good! The texture was not bad - think softened gummy candy, but a little less chewy. The taste, well, it was garlicy. That's really all I could taste - the garlic. I gave some to L to try and would you believe my son ate the pieces I gave him and kept opening his mouth for more! This little one won't eat eggs, but he'll eat onions, lemon, and escargot! Go figure.
That's it for now, but tomorrow I'll continue (day 1's not over yet!).
Day 1 - Embarkation day at Cape Canaveral
We had to drive up to Cape Canaveral on the same day the cruise left, so it was a race to the Disney finish line. We left a little later than expected and had to stop to get lunch for a cranky toddler, but amidst all the rush, we made it at the port with time to spare - barely. It was 2 and we needed to be on by 4pm. We arrived and went quickly through the check-in-process, got our pictures taken by smiling "cast members," and held our breaths in as we crossed over the planks that connected us to the hotel on the water. As we approached the entrance, there were rows of men and women in sailor's uniforms greeting us. One young man stopped us, asked us our last name and where we were from, and then proceeded to announce our arrival into the ship via loud speakers: "The A family has arrived all the way from Miami!" All the white and navy uniformed men and women clapped and we were ushered in, flustered and smiling, while the next family received Disney's version of the royal treatment.
Once onboard, we took a few seconds to look around and made our way to change our dining time. We had been allocated the 2nd seating, which was at 8PM, much too late to have dinner with a toddler. Thankfully, the change was no problem, and we were freed of the unwanted time. Our new dining time was 5:45 - much more reasonable.
We headed to the cabin, and again briefly looked around; we had to hurry or we wouldn't make lunch. As soon as we walked in, we noticed the two bathrooms on our right. One contained a sink and toilet, the other a sink and bathtub. Yes, bathtub. From what I hear, very few cruised have bathtubs. This tub was a savior for giving L his bath because it also contained a shower hose that we could bring down and "hose" him down. I'm not sure what the correct term for that is, but I'm sure you get what I mean. After the bathrooms was the bed, a royal-blue-covered queen bed, in which all three of us ended sleeping, limbs nestled between limbs. Beyond the bed was the sofa, which also converted into a bed, a desk with a mini-fridge, TV and vanity mirror, and the window - a large port hole that provided ample light and scenery when we were close to land. The room was a good size compared to other cruise cabins, although like with all cruise cabins, they're not good for those who are claustrophobic.
We dropped off the stroller and our day bag, and made our way up, with welcome papers in hand, to the 9th deck (we were on the 2nd) where the Beach Blanket restaurant was serving lunch for the next 15 minutes. The Beach Blanket was a buffet eatery that became our breakfast place of choice over the next couple days. This day, for lunch, they had a varied selection of sea food, chicken, and beef. I had some fish and chicken, J had some chicken and beef, and L had some chicken and mac-n-cheese with fruits. Oh, and sodas are included in the cruise! That was a pleasant surprise! We ate inside, quickly, but savored the moment of rest. We were finally on board and there was no more need to rush anywhere.
After the meal, we meandered a bit but made our way back to the room to throw on the life jackets for the mandatory drill at 4 pm. It was funny walking around with the neon orange flotation device sitting awkwardly over the shoulders and around the chest, and we weren't sure where exactly we were going, but we saw many orange dots bobbing on the 4th deck and assumed we were in the right place. We were. After the drill, and after leaving the life jackets back in the room, we went back up to deck 9 for the sailaway party. There, some cast members along with the characters danced and sang, while the horn on the ship tooted the "When You Wish Upon A Star" melody. All passangers were watching, dancing and taking pictures or video. Many had their swim suits on because they'd been smart and arrived at noon to take advantage of the pools. Others, like us, were walking around in part-beachy, part-traveling clothes wrinkled by sitting too long. A young boy caught my attention. He was about 7 or 8, with a bald head, holding the hand of a woman. His shirt read "The Make-a-Wish Foundation Made My WIsh Come True." I stopped breathing for a moment and my eyes welled up with tears. I said a prayer for him, and thought how much fun and excitement he must feel knowing that he got to do this before... it really made me stop in my tracks and ponder the meaning and justice of this life.
After the characters and cat members sang, they introduced some of the Disney Channel stars: Michel Musso and Jason Earles from Hannah Montana, and two others. It was pretty cool, although I laughed quietly because here I was, an almost-30-year-old mom getting somewhat excited about Disney Channel stars. I mean, I watch the shows and they remind me of younger days, so I thought it was pretty cool meeting/seeing them.
Once that was over, we made our way back to the cabin to get dressed for dinner. We had dinner at Tritons first. Tritons is a restaurant "under the sea," inspired by none-other than The Littler Mermaid. Several enchanting mosaics depict King Triton's underwater kingdom and family. There are columns throughout the restaurant featuring circular tops, reminding guests of bubbles. The fare is French, with many traditional French dishes, such as escargots and creme brule. I got brave and ordered the escargots baked in a garlic sauce. I've always wanted to try them, and this day, I felt brave. When the appetizer arrived, it looked more like a dessert dish than slimy, crawling critters. To my surprise, there wasn't much distaste. They were rather good! The texture was not bad - think softened gummy candy, but a little less chewy. The taste, well, it was garlicy. That's really all I could taste - the garlic. I gave some to L to try and would you believe my son ate the pieces I gave him and kept opening his mouth for more! This little one won't eat eggs, but he'll eat onions, lemon, and escargot! Go figure.
That's it for now, but tomorrow I'll continue (day 1's not over yet!).
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Who you callin' a fool, fool?!
It is no secret that babies become toddlers whose favorite word is "NO!" For some (lucky one), this new stage comes after they reach two; for others, the stage begins soon after their first birthdays when they realize just how powerful their language is. Not only can they make themselves understood, but lo and behold, they can make mommy and daddy's eyes bulge out, faces contorted in frustration, anger, and possibly hysteria. It is a marvelous age, really. L can be grouped in the latter, with "no" being his absolute favorite word as of late. My cousin told me about this "no" stage when her son would say no to everything, including a million dollars. It's very close to maddening, she told me. I would have to agree (and I'm sure my hubby would, too!).
Of course, I like putting things to the test. I've tested reactions to food before, including raw onion rings on a burger (he liked those, lord knows why), as well as other things here and there. So I tested this one out as well on our car ride back from the beach.
"L, do you want milk?"
"NO!"
"Do you want to go outside?"
"NO!"
"Do you want to eat?"
"NO!"
"Do you want to play with Abui?"
"NO!"
"Do you want a million dollars?"
"Ohhhhh," he replied, raising his chin and looking at mi de reojo. That's his way of saying yes.
I wonder what must go through his head. Does he even know what a million dollars are? Does he know how they can change a person's life, and not always for the better? I really do wonder if the little wheels that move him to speak can really allow him to grasp the concept of that question. Or maybe he just didn't recognize the option in that question and decided, eh, what the heck, let's go with yes here.
Ah, toddlers.
Of course, I like putting things to the test. I've tested reactions to food before, including raw onion rings on a burger (he liked those, lord knows why), as well as other things here and there. So I tested this one out as well on our car ride back from the beach.
"L, do you want milk?"
"NO!"
"Do you want to go outside?"
"NO!"
"Do you want to eat?"
"NO!"
"Do you want to play with Abui?"
"NO!"
"Do you want a million dollars?"
"Ohhhhh," he replied, raising his chin and looking at mi de reojo. That's his way of saying yes.
I wonder what must go through his head. Does he even know what a million dollars are? Does he know how they can change a person's life, and not always for the better? I really do wonder if the little wheels that move him to speak can really allow him to grasp the concept of that question. Or maybe he just didn't recognize the option in that question and decided, eh, what the heck, let's go with yes here.
Ah, toddlers.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Mi Viejo
The previous post got me googling and looking up Piero and his songs since I couldn't remember all of them. It had been a long time since I'd heard them and the more I remember my father, the more I remember tidbits of music; his life revolved around his music many times, and these songs usually trigger specific memories.
This one song in particular was beautiful. It is an ode to the aging father. It brings me to tears now, when I listen to it, not only because this was one of my father's favorites, but because of the poignant words.
Here is a youtube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x36zzkUB2tc.
And here are the lyrics:
Es un buen tipo mi viejo
Que anda solo y esperando
Tiene la tristeza larga
De tanto venir andando
Yo lo miro desde lejos
Pero somos tan distintos
Es que crecio con el siglo
Con tranvia y vino tinto
Viejo mi querido viejo
Ahora ya camina lerdo (lento)
Como perdonando el viento
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
El tiene los ojos buenos
Y una figura pesada
La edad se le vino encima
Sin carnaval ni comparsa
Yo tengo los años nuevos
Y el hombre los años viejos
El dolor lo lleva dentro
Y tiene historias sin tiempo
Vejo mi querido viejo
Ahora ya camina lerdo (lento)
Como perdonando el viento
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Yo soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
This one song in particular was beautiful. It is an ode to the aging father. It brings me to tears now, when I listen to it, not only because this was one of my father's favorites, but because of the poignant words.
Here is a youtube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x36zzkUB2tc.
And here are the lyrics:
Es un buen tipo mi viejo
Que anda solo y esperando
Tiene la tristeza larga
De tanto venir andando
Yo lo miro desde lejos
Pero somos tan distintos
Es que crecio con el siglo
Con tranvia y vino tinto
Viejo mi querido viejo
Ahora ya camina lerdo (lento)
Como perdonando el viento
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
El tiene los ojos buenos
Y una figura pesada
La edad se le vino encima
Sin carnaval ni comparsa
Yo tengo los años nuevos
Y el hombre los años viejos
El dolor lo lleva dentro
Y tiene historias sin tiempo
Vejo mi querido viejo
Ahora ya camina lerdo (lento)
Como perdonando el viento
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Yo soy tu silencio y tu tiempo
Yo soy tu sangre mi viejo
Sleep
I hear the quiet murmur of the cool-mist humidifier through the baby monitor and its sound is smooth and trance-like. I can see why it helps you sleep. My eyelids, too, are slowly closing to that hum and I have to shake my head to wake myself. It amazes me how delicious sleep is for you, it's nourishment really, and I yearn to sleep like that again. The eight-interrupted-hours-a-night just don't compare to your ten-plus hours a night and the two-and-a-half nap-time hours. That siesta time is the greatest escape; I especially thought so when you were still developing in my womb and I could partake in a siesta at my then-office. I would close the door and surrender to the lull of pregnancy exhaustion for a good fifteen minutes. That was enough to lift the fog and renew my strength for the next few hours.
My father, your grandfather, used to take a daily siesta once he had to stay home. He was sick, you know. He had many heart, circulation ailments, and they soon impeded his ability to work. So, he was the stay-at-home parent and would always pick me up from school, walking, when I was in elementary school since it was a walkable distance; later, when I started middle and high schools, he would be home when the bus dropped my off since then we lived farther away from my schools. During the summer or holidays, I would stay home with my father, and every day, after lunch, my father took his noon-time siesta. I usually welcomed this because that meant that I had at least an hour of uninterrupted me time. I could watch tv, I could read, I could play and let my imagination soar. When I got older, I sometimes would take advantage and hop on the 71 bus all the way to International Mall where I would spend an afternoon of window shopping and trying on clothes I couldn't afford. I would take a book with me for the bus ride, and in between words I would peek at my fellow bus-mates; I would imagine what lives they held and who they were.
Along with the siestas, my father loved music, as I see you do, too. When I was younger, he listened to Piero mostly, among others like Garzon y Collazos. Many of Piero's songs detailed the type of life my father yearned for, a life of the simple past he called it - when everything was not complicated by technology or laziness, according to him. A few of his favorites were De Vez En Cuando Viene Bien Dormir (Every now and then it's good to sleep), Fumemos un Cigarrillo (Let's smoke a cigarette), and Mi Viejo (My Old Man). These were staples of his life.
My father, your grandfather, used to take a daily siesta once he had to stay home. He was sick, you know. He had many heart, circulation ailments, and they soon impeded his ability to work. So, he was the stay-at-home parent and would always pick me up from school, walking, when I was in elementary school since it was a walkable distance; later, when I started middle and high schools, he would be home when the bus dropped my off since then we lived farther away from my schools. During the summer or holidays, I would stay home with my father, and every day, after lunch, my father took his noon-time siesta. I usually welcomed this because that meant that I had at least an hour of uninterrupted me time. I could watch tv, I could read, I could play and let my imagination soar. When I got older, I sometimes would take advantage and hop on the 71 bus all the way to International Mall where I would spend an afternoon of window shopping and trying on clothes I couldn't afford. I would take a book with me for the bus ride, and in between words I would peek at my fellow bus-mates; I would imagine what lives they held and who they were.
Along with the siestas, my father loved music, as I see you do, too. When I was younger, he listened to Piero mostly, among others like Garzon y Collazos. Many of Piero's songs detailed the type of life my father yearned for, a life of the simple past he called it - when everything was not complicated by technology or laziness, according to him. A few of his favorites were De Vez En Cuando Viene Bien Dormir (Every now and then it's good to sleep), Fumemos un Cigarrillo (Let's smoke a cigarette), and Mi Viejo (My Old Man). These were staples of his life.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Check Out L's 2nd Bday Invites!
Check out my baby's birthday invites! The party is Go Diego Go themed as this is his latest hero. I think I'm going to reverse the font, though; the curlier one for the name and the straighter one for the rest of the writing. Hmmm. I'll have to keep playing with it.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Biggest Zap of Creativity
My creative muse has been at a zero these days. Not that it's any excuse not to write (although, I will hold on to that tightly as to why I haven't been blogging - writing I have been doing, just not on here). Between another change in schedules for my hubby, my son deciding to refuse sleep, and responsibilities of online classes (both as instructor and student) have left me drained of creativity. I am now trying to get back on track, especially since my son has been kind enough to get some of his sleep back on track. Apparently, it had something to do with separation anxiety. How fun.
We did take a small getaway to Disney, one of my favorite places in the world. I ignore all the ba-humbugs about corporate and capitalistic monopolies and simply enjoy going to a place where I can feel like a proverbial child again. So what if I have to pay $20 for a meal that feeds two and a half people. So what if I have to wait in the grueling heat, sweat bathing my skin, to enter the cool 7 seconds of a ride. I don't care. I will have to say, though, that going with a toddler is quite the experience. My son absolutely LOVES Disney, definitely got that from mom and dad. His first trip was when he was 6 months old and we've been there about four or five times - in a year and a half. Not bad. ;) Now, though, he's walking everywhere but he's still sticking everything in his mouth and his mouth on everything. That makes for some hair-standing, teeth-gritting moments when I find myself yelling, L, NOT IN YOUR MOUTH! Of course, if it were paper or some small thing that hasn't been touched by the million and one visitors it wouldn't be so bad. But, no, he likes to go for things that have been handled and manhandled. Tastier, I assume, but of how my heart paused whenever he did that. Thoughts of swine flu, resistent bacteria, measles, mumps and ruebella, and an array of other "bugs" swarmed my mind. Thankfully, though, it seems as if all was digested well and no crazy symptoms have appeared.
He did love the characters and character meals. He knows them by name: ma-mouse (both Mickey and Minnie are priviledged to share this title), Puto (Pluto) - and for a brief while, he was saying Puta and you can imagine what a riot that was - Meemo (Nemo), Eeelo (Lilo), Itch (Stitch). I don't think he was able to say Donald Duck or Goofy, although he tried. He ran up to each character, holding out his Disney Autograph Book and matching pen which Nana had bought him on the previous trip, and gleafully watched as each overstuffed character was able to maneuver the pen and pad and provide the awaited signature. He gave them a hi-five, laughed with them with his quirky, covered mouth laugh, and went on his way to the next character. It was cute.
Here are some pics we took over at the parks:
We did take a small getaway to Disney, one of my favorite places in the world. I ignore all the ba-humbugs about corporate and capitalistic monopolies and simply enjoy going to a place where I can feel like a proverbial child again. So what if I have to pay $20 for a meal that feeds two and a half people. So what if I have to wait in the grueling heat, sweat bathing my skin, to enter the cool 7 seconds of a ride. I don't care. I will have to say, though, that going with a toddler is quite the experience. My son absolutely LOVES Disney, definitely got that from mom and dad. His first trip was when he was 6 months old and we've been there about four or five times - in a year and a half. Not bad. ;) Now, though, he's walking everywhere but he's still sticking everything in his mouth and his mouth on everything. That makes for some hair-standing, teeth-gritting moments when I find myself yelling, L, NOT IN YOUR MOUTH! Of course, if it were paper or some small thing that hasn't been touched by the million and one visitors it wouldn't be so bad. But, no, he likes to go for things that have been handled and manhandled. Tastier, I assume, but of how my heart paused whenever he did that. Thoughts of swine flu, resistent bacteria, measles, mumps and ruebella, and an array of other "bugs" swarmed my mind. Thankfully, though, it seems as if all was digested well and no crazy symptoms have appeared.
He did love the characters and character meals. He knows them by name: ma-mouse (both Mickey and Minnie are priviledged to share this title), Puto (Pluto) - and for a brief while, he was saying Puta and you can imagine what a riot that was - Meemo (Nemo), Eeelo (Lilo), Itch (Stitch). I don't think he was able to say Donald Duck or Goofy, although he tried. He ran up to each character, holding out his Disney Autograph Book and matching pen which Nana had bought him on the previous trip, and gleafully watched as each overstuffed character was able to maneuver the pen and pad and provide the awaited signature. He gave them a hi-five, laughed with them with his quirky, covered mouth laugh, and went on his way to the next character. It was cute.
Here are some pics we took over at the parks:
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Cocoa Beach - beachside
After a stroll through downtown Cocoa Beach, we took L to a nearby park with beach access so he could burn off some energy. It threatened to rain, but thankfully it didn't. Here are some scenes from the beach:
Downtown Cocoa Beach
Wednesday, we took a short road trip to downtown Cocoa Beach, a quaint beach town that made us reminisce of our single, younger days. A few things that caught my attention were the tatoo parlors on every street corner and the strip clubs that seemed too many for a beach town of that size. And to counteact the strip clubs, churches surrounded the downtown area, both on the outskirts and within the town. The small stores were iconic of a beach town and many walls were decorated with murals of jazzy scenes. Here are a few pics I took:
First Baptist Church - it sits to the south of downtown Cocoa Beach.
First Baptist Church - it sits to the south of downtown Cocoa Beach. Saturday, May 30, 2009
Solitude’s Company
He lounges next to me at breakfast as I stare at
a glass bowl of cinnamon raisin oatmeal.
He’s waiting for the mathematical equation of
hunger plus thirst divided by sleep
equaling congruent fragmentation of the brain
to surge into attack of my arterial passage,
leading the way, quietly, into a revolution of nerves.
At lunch I feel him breathing hard, laughing,
quite erotically, as the sun decides to overlook me
within a crowd of coffee addicted students.
He pokes his fleshy fingers at me, crossing my eyes,
making me see all sides of the parallelogram,
until my vision ripples into three dimensions.
Dinner at eight thirty, Solitude becomes three
irrational and compulsive characters:
my guests of honor. Wise men traveling from
the corners of his imagination, I become
their hostess and entertainer. He thrusts
the threads of creativity into captivity.
I try to leave him, but he follows
attached to the weight of my ankles,
the pressure of my chest, the blur of my eyes.
I ask him why he bothers stalking me,
we both know he’s not wanted here,
but he remains silent, tapping his toes.
a glass bowl of cinnamon raisin oatmeal.
He’s waiting for the mathematical equation of
hunger plus thirst divided by sleep
equaling congruent fragmentation of the brain
to surge into attack of my arterial passage,
leading the way, quietly, into a revolution of nerves.
At lunch I feel him breathing hard, laughing,
quite erotically, as the sun decides to overlook me
within a crowd of coffee addicted students.
He pokes his fleshy fingers at me, crossing my eyes,
making me see all sides of the parallelogram,
until my vision ripples into three dimensions.
Dinner at eight thirty, Solitude becomes three
irrational and compulsive characters:
my guests of honor. Wise men traveling from
the corners of his imagination, I become
their hostess and entertainer. He thrusts
the threads of creativity into captivity.
I try to leave him, but he follows
attached to the weight of my ankles,
the pressure of my chest, the blur of my eyes.
I ask him why he bothers stalking me,
we both know he’s not wanted here,
but he remains silent, tapping his toes.
When We Were Young in South Beach
We skimmed through the newspaper
for the Magic City’s night charms,
then renounced sleep
because creases on our skin did not
own us, and tomorrow
was still an abstraction.
Sleepily, we doused ourselves
with Starbucks Sumatra coffee, extra bold,
until the last musing of sleep was gone,
then dressed in our evening’s best
ready for El Grupo Niche and Jay-Z
to move us, like melting wax.
We skipped lunch to make room
for dinner at Joe’s, where
we filled our stomachs with
crab claws and Cole slaw
and our wallets were emptied
of Jackson and Grant.
Arm in arm we flirted
through the discolored sidewalks
of Ocean Drive, passing blurred faces
staring at us from the sanctuary of
their dinner tables. Lobster tails, churrasco
and rice pilaf decorated their plates.
We forgot the meanings of
no, can’t, won’t,
refusing to employ double negatives
and preferring to stick with
si, siempre, of course,
like El Zorro and Superwoman.
En route to Washington Ave,
we passed aspiring musicians
in crazed street corners
crooning off-beat one-hit-horrors
fit for an American Idol stage
and Simon Cowell.
We ignored the groans of our joints,
the headaches of neon and bass,
then threw our heads back and
consumed Nyquil with gin.
We ran through the sand
and laughed at the moon.
for the Magic City’s night charms,
then renounced sleep
because creases on our skin did not
own us, and tomorrow
was still an abstraction.
Sleepily, we doused ourselves
with Starbucks Sumatra coffee, extra bold,
until the last musing of sleep was gone,
then dressed in our evening’s best
ready for El Grupo Niche and Jay-Z
to move us, like melting wax.
We skipped lunch to make room
for dinner at Joe’s, where
we filled our stomachs with
crab claws and Cole slaw
and our wallets were emptied
of Jackson and Grant.
Arm in arm we flirted
through the discolored sidewalks
of Ocean Drive, passing blurred faces
staring at us from the sanctuary of
their dinner tables. Lobster tails, churrasco
and rice pilaf decorated their plates.
We forgot the meanings of
no, can’t, won’t,
refusing to employ double negatives
and preferring to stick with
si, siempre, of course,
like El Zorro and Superwoman.
En route to Washington Ave,
we passed aspiring musicians
in crazed street corners
crooning off-beat one-hit-horrors
fit for an American Idol stage
and Simon Cowell.
We ignored the groans of our joints,
the headaches of neon and bass,
then threw our heads back and
consumed Nyquil with gin.
We ran through the sand
and laughed at the moon.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Another trip to Satellite Beach
I am a self-proclaimed mountain-girl, but lately, the beach has brought in a certain allure that I can't help but wonder if maybe there's part of a beach gal hiding in there. With hubby's new days off, and with me being off in the summer for the first time since I was an awkard teenager, we've been able to really enjoy being outdoors - when it's not raining, of course. Thanks to wonderful family, we've been able to visit Satellite Beach twice this month! The weather has been just right: slightly breezy, warm and humid but not overwhelmingly so, and rain that has made it's debut just at the right moments - when we're inside! This pic was on the day we got there. The drive up had been spectacular, and once there, we took a quick walk on the beach, only to scurry on inside because of the storm approaching from the west.
I'll update with some more snipets and pics in upcoming posts. These will include day drips to Cocoa Beach and Historic Downtown Melbourne. Stay tuned! :)
Friday, May 22, 2009
Look who popped in this afternoon
After the rain cleared up, we took a stroll in our backyard. It was the aftermath of rain: lemon yellow and black spotted butterflies made their rounds through the bushes and trees, ants emerged from crevices on the broken cement, and lizards came out of their respective shelters to see what the options were for dinner. This particular one is Laura the Lizard. She lives alongside Lorenzo the lizard in our small decorative fireplace. There's a lone piece of "wood" under which, at various times of the day, one can find them lounging around. Laura is the smaller of the two, as you can see in the picture below. Lorenzo is a larger lizard, who looks as if he's had one-too-many insects to eat. Lorenzo is usually not keen on human attention, but Laura curiously watched me approach her, camera in hand. She allowed me to approach enough to get some close-ups using the camera's close-up mode, and I only wish I'd taken more advantage of that allowance.
Where I Want to Be
The day creeps by as I wait for night to get here. The morning has seen torrential rains, with the continuous drumming of the drops on the roof lulling us into a hypnotic sleep. The sky outside so dark that we are confused as to whether it really is morning, although our trusty digital clock screams in neon green: 10:34 am. I'm silently thankful, though, that the rain is now, and not at 10:34 pm because then that would mean I would have to open the gates to our two close-to-a-hundred-pound dogs (who I secretly think sported feathers and a beak in another life) so they can join us upstairs, having the clackity-clack of their nails on our pergo wood floors provide the beat to the air purifier's purring and the rain's drumming. Right now, Baxter sits close to our feet as the rain is joined by thunder and lightening, his hind legs trembling. Buffy doesn't mind as much, although if Baxter gets started enough, she is right there following his example. Great. So, I'm sitting here, going through my pictures, and found the one place I'd love to be right now:
I can just see myself under that umbrella, basking in the sun's warm rays, taking in all that vitamin D (with protection of course) that we usually lack because we're stuck indoors between sterile walls. Next week, I will be there!
It's cleared up somewhat now; the clouds have parted and the soft breeze is making our bougainvillea and backyard trees dance to its rhythm. I see blue again, mingling with the puffs of cotton that decorate the sky. There's also light again, which means I can go back to saving on electricity and using good ol' mother nature.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Impromptu #1 - Dogs
I grew up with dogs - mutts always. The first one I remember was Pirula. She was a white mutt, with curly, creamy hair that covered her entire body. I had her since she was a puppy, small enough to fit within the empty space between my four-year-old palms. I have pictures of me in my pink Barbie tricycle, carrying Pirula in the back compartment as if she were just another luggage item in my young traveler's mind. Other pictures show a more grown-up Pirula licking my father's feet as he lay on the couch, recovering from his broken fingers that had been caught in a garage door.
After that I remember Princess, my black, shiny coated Labrador mutt. She has short, straight black hair and a skinny tale. She ran with me in the backyard of my Westchester home, and became part of my make-believe games. She was there by my side whenever I had to clean up in the backyard - there's a picture of me at about seven years old, wearing a mustard yellow and black handkerchief on my hair, picking up what I can only imagine to be dog excrements from the recently cut grass. Princess is right there beside me as if guarding me, protecting me, as if she sensed that I needed that extra companion. She accompanied me when I wanted to lay on our cream and brown lawn chairs to catch some rays of sun - she lay curled in a small, black ball, reflecting the sunlight off her coat.
Then there was Lucky. I have never had a dog so hyper, although there are pictures of me in my early years with an exact duplicate of Lucky. I don't remember that one, but I remember Lucky's energy that transferred some of the recklessness to my small child's body. I had a long, colorful Colombian skirt, del traje tipico, that someone had brought for me, but it was much too big - an adult size. I loved to play dress up with it, but soon, I discovered that it could serve as a circus act with Lucky. Playfully, I would slither the rust-colored skirt in front of Lucky who would then gleefully bite at it, clenching his teeth over the soft cotton fabric, until I began swinging the skirt, and the attached Lucky, around and around until the imaginary crowed roared with laughter at the sight of Lucky the Flying Dog! He was the last dog I had while I was still living in that Westchester home.
After that we moved to an apartment, so it was no more dogs for me - until we moved temporarily to a small townhome in another section of town. That's when my two "little" cousins, C + J, decided to give me a little black blur that they named Tomate. I don't think that ended up his real name, but it's the only one I remember. Tomate came to us at a time we were renting, and we never informed the owner of our newest acquisition. He was a feisty puppy, with energy slightly lower than Lucky's, but a lovable one nonetheless. Then, one day, our landlady found out about Tomate, and we had to part ways with him.
All the dogs of my childhood had to be given up. I never had to go through the death of a dog because they were never around long enough. Most of the times, they had to be given up because we moved; but sometimes, they just had to be given up because. I wonder many times what happened to them - comforters of my childhood, friends in my need of time (which, as a child with an over-active imagination and strict parents, they're many!).
After that I remember Princess, my black, shiny coated Labrador mutt. She has short, straight black hair and a skinny tale. She ran with me in the backyard of my Westchester home, and became part of my make-believe games. She was there by my side whenever I had to clean up in the backyard - there's a picture of me at about seven years old, wearing a mustard yellow and black handkerchief on my hair, picking up what I can only imagine to be dog excrements from the recently cut grass. Princess is right there beside me as if guarding me, protecting me, as if she sensed that I needed that extra companion. She accompanied me when I wanted to lay on our cream and brown lawn chairs to catch some rays of sun - she lay curled in a small, black ball, reflecting the sunlight off her coat.
Then there was Lucky. I have never had a dog so hyper, although there are pictures of me in my early years with an exact duplicate of Lucky. I don't remember that one, but I remember Lucky's energy that transferred some of the recklessness to my small child's body. I had a long, colorful Colombian skirt, del traje tipico, that someone had brought for me, but it was much too big - an adult size. I loved to play dress up with it, but soon, I discovered that it could serve as a circus act with Lucky. Playfully, I would slither the rust-colored skirt in front of Lucky who would then gleefully bite at it, clenching his teeth over the soft cotton fabric, until I began swinging the skirt, and the attached Lucky, around and around until the imaginary crowed roared with laughter at the sight of Lucky the Flying Dog! He was the last dog I had while I was still living in that Westchester home.
After that we moved to an apartment, so it was no more dogs for me - until we moved temporarily to a small townhome in another section of town. That's when my two "little" cousins, C + J, decided to give me a little black blur that they named Tomate. I don't think that ended up his real name, but it's the only one I remember. Tomate came to us at a time we were renting, and we never informed the owner of our newest acquisition. He was a feisty puppy, with energy slightly lower than Lucky's, but a lovable one nonetheless. Then, one day, our landlady found out about Tomate, and we had to part ways with him.
All the dogs of my childhood had to be given up. I never had to go through the death of a dog because they were never around long enough. Most of the times, they had to be given up because we moved; but sometimes, they just had to be given up because. I wonder many times what happened to them - comforters of my childhood, friends in my need of time (which, as a child with an over-active imagination and strict parents, they're many!).
Work in progress - While You Dream
This is a poem I'm working on. It's a second draft now, but it's still a work in progress.
While You Dream – 05/12/2009
Your slumber is envious
a sleep so deep that you miss the
barking of Buffy and Baxter –
the two Labrador mutts
you’ve named sister, and brother,
and after whom you’ve modeled
many of your dinner table behaviors.
You’ve been in the same position
since we rocked you to sleep –
arms lifted over your head, one
slightly curled above as if
sheltering you from the night’s
unknowns.
You used to startle in your sleep
when you were days and weeks old
not the months and years you are now.
Without preamble you would strike
your coveted pose, lifting your arms
fiercely at a ninety degree angle
from your miniature body, and then
with a quiver, you would slowly lower them,
only to repeat the gesture a few more times –
that salute of life; a reflex, the doctors said,
and sure enough, you outgrew the
dancing poses and army salutes,
and took instead to sleeping twelve hours
while visiting all corners of your crib, in
a serene slumber.
You stir quietly,
a slight movement
of your Thomas the Train pajamas
as you inhale deeply –
a sigh perhaps as you dream
of luscious, creamy whole milk,
or your tete, sweet comfort,
or maybe your Mickey Mouse peluche
of whom you have four replicas,
one for each room of the house.
Or perhaps you’re dreaming of mama
and dada.
We hug when daddy comes home from work,
uniform wrinkled and eyes telling
of misfortunes and atrocities I thank God
you’re still too young to know about.
We hug a group hug –a playful
hug that intertwines our arms so that
we’re no longer solitary natives
within the cement walls of what we call home,
but a family, and we fall laughing
and shedding the skins of disappointments
and corruption, basking instead in the comforts
of innocence.
But now there’s no laughing,
just a slight pull of your lips,
half hidden
behind your tete –
Tough Guy
Mute Button
Ladies Man –
and I pray every night for you,
for your eyes that look so much
like my father’s – dark
serious ovals that portray a wisdom
you’ve yet to live but seem to already know –
his wisdom.
You size everything and everyone
with those eyes –
open them wide as you analyze
what you can’t understand, or
silently watch the scenes unfold
as if you knew what the outcome
would be before the curtain fell.
You remind me of my father,
your grandfather, who you only met
for the first five and a half months
of your life.
Will you be like him –
an intellect whose thirst for water,
knowledge and language
tormented him every night, and at every nap?
A musician who taught himself
the keys of the organ and to write music,
who composed a song for his only daughter
saturated with prayers for her ninth birthday?
A philosopher with a fighter’s temper
and stubbornness
who refused to retreat or speak
even when entreated?
He is more a part of you
than you realize now. Someday you’ll know,
or perhaps, you already do but are
keeping it a secret from me as you
breath to the rhythms of your lullaby CD
that plays
in the background –
Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town
Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown.
The humidifier competes for your attention
a continuous humming that sometimes soothes
sometimes infuriates,
a seemingly never-ending waterfall of noise –
white noise.
Give babies white noise to help them sleep.
Yes, white noise. But why not scarlet noise,
something more colorful to bring
dreams of rainbows
and unicorns.
But no, white noise to help you sleep.
It does, but I wonder what you dream.
You sigh again as if you knew
I was watching you, perched
on the rails of your Babi Italia Pinehurst crib
in espresso,
staring at your eyelashes, your ears,
your nose.
When my cousin's daughter was born
his wife counted her
fingers and toes
and tongue.
Your tongue remains slightly
visible behind your tete
that is now escaping your
faintly open mouth, as if
it were playing peek-a-boo
with the moon.
You stretch, and moan, and then turn
to your left, your back now to me,
bidding me good night, and
you keep on dreaming
while I watch you grow into a man.
© 2009 A.P.A.
L's water-wrinkled feet
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