Castaways

 Grand Cayman

As we were walking from the ship to a bus on a pre-booked “shore excursion”, I was debating cutting my loses, breaking away from the pack and hailing a cab.  We spent the majority of the morning getting wrist bands and waiting for others.  The tour leader kept repeating, “Two-by-two, line up two by two.”  It was worse than public elementary school.  Sam was exuberant, spinning around, pretending he was a sea bird, enjoying the sun and breeze and not hurting anyone except the ticket collector who was eyeing him as if he were an escapee.

A Disney cruise is a slice of mainstream America.  All of what’s good and bad rolled up into one big fat sunburned ball of choices.  We had a really fun week and got lucky with beautiful warm weather.  There was a lot to do on and off the ship and the boys met some nice kids.  I mostly policed sugar intake and observed the other parents.  I saw three basic types:  super-parents, intervention-would-be-nice and M.I.A.

Super-parents are constantly applying sunscreen to themselves, each other and their children, are always together and often wear matching t-shirts.  You will never find them in the nightclub dancing inappropriately or snoozing away with empty margarita glasses nearby.  I think they live on caffeine or some other drug I would like to learn about.

The second group comes from generations of stuffing faces and feelings.  Picture a beefy guy, lying on his lounge chair, yelling at his chubby little boy who was floating around in a pee-filled pool.  Imagine a thick “fuggedaboutit” accent and some barking about hurrying up to go to the buffet.  Similar looking and sounding wife next to him, sucking on a soda.

The last group checks their children into the “kids’ club” and takes off for hours on end.  I can see using the babysitting for an “afternoon delight” or dinner alone.  Some kids even beg to go, with seductive names like "Oceaneer Lab" (kids under 10) and "Edge" (tweens).  I get (and like) having some freedom and time alone, but isn't the operative word in "family vacation" "family", not "vacation"?  My son pointed out one couple to me that left their kids on the ship and went to the beach for the day without them.  Am I missing something?

I decided to teach my boys to swim upstream.  During the at-sea days, we got up early and enjoyed the ship before others were awake.  Then, as the sun rose high in the sky, we went inside and had leisurely seafood lunches and watched movies (first run Disney in two theatres on the ship, "Secretariat" was my favorite) when everyone else was lining up for pizza outside and deck chairs by the pool.

After that tour with the militant guide, we took our own port adventures.  On our best day, I almost gave up too soon.  We were on Grand Cayman walking down the beach looking for a place to park it.  Our bag was heavy with towels and water and even though the boys were helping, I was doing most of the toting.  I massaged my sore shoulder as we passed people head-to-toe on shore and looking like snorkel stew out in the water.  I couldn’t understand why they would stay all clumped together when anyone who picked up their head and looked could see lots of open space.

We made it to a stretch of sand and ocean where we had the place to ourselves.  I can’t explain the crowd.  Maybe they wanted to be near the restaurants, or bars, or other families.  I don't know, but we found paradise. 

Happiest Place on Earth

Suitcase #1:  41 pounds.  Perfect.  Enough room for the snorkeling gear.  Suitcase #2:  47 pounds.  Not enough room for a bottle of wine (3.5 lbs) but I could have squeezed in another pair of shoes (2 lbs).  I decided not to risk the weight allowance on the return trip.  We are setting sail on another Disney cruise.

This is probably the only vacation I can schedule without the Professor that does not incite sadness at him being left behind to work.  The Professor doesn’t do Disney and isn’t really a “cruiser.”  I learned early on not to drag the man to things that require him to stand in line or make small talk.  Think Larry David.

I knew I was right about taking a Disney cruise on my own with the boys when we were boarding last year—standing behind a woman wearing white Minnie Mouse ears with a wedding veil flowing out of the back.  As much as I wanted to roll my eyes, I didn’t want to model being a jaded snob. 

“Look, they’re on their honeymoon.”

“Is that why she has a special hat on?”

“Yes, it means they just got married.”

They gave me their sheepish grins, like they were in on some big secret. 

The song that plays as you board the Disney ship Magic is the one I have been humming to myself since I was seven years old.

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you

If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do

Fate is kind
She brings to those who love
The sweet fulfillment of
Their secret longing

Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true

Time to set sail!

Lessons for Everyone

The Professor is going to Saudi Arabia today to teach a few classes at the King Abdullah University.  We’ve been joking around for weeks about what will happen to him.  He never predicted he’d be working in a place where a man can get caned for wearing shorts in front of a woman.  Preparing for the trip went beyond deciding what to pack.  He had to file for a travel visa, and while he may occasionally forget to claim a wad of Cuban cigars stuffed in his pocket, he doesn’t fudge government documents.

“I’m putting down my religion as Jewish,” he informed me.

“That’s good, better to play it safe.”  As if everything about him doesn’t say “Jewish guy from New York.”

Then, as he was digging around for two-ounce plastic travel bottles this morning, he started tossing the good stuff out of his Dopp kit, like the expired Oxycodone he carries for kidney stone attacks.  When I asked why he was worried about a few painkillers, he mumbled something about the kingdom’s Royal Order and hillbilly heroin.  I wonder what the street word is for chardonnay?

Neither of us really worried about the trip but I did do a quick Google search just to check it out.  Wow!

The King Abdullah University of Science and Technology (KAUST), funded with a $10 billion endowment from the king, is central to Saudi Arabia's effort to overhaul its system of higher education and become a global center of collaborative science and technology research. The university is home to "Shaheen" -- the world's 14th fastest computer, a six-sided virtual reality facility, 10 advanced nuclear magnetic resonance spectrometers, a coastal and marine resources laboratory and bioengineering facilities with labs for studying cell molecules for DNA sequencing (not to mention male and female students studying side by side!)

The university, described by the king himself as a new Beyt al-Hekma, or House of Wisdom (referring to the medieval center of learning in Baghdad), will be governed by an independent board of trustees and open to researchers from across the globe. Its charter stipulates leading roles for women and people of diverse nationalities and faiths.

Well, I am resting easy and not just because I got all of the Professor’s discards.  It’s a relief to hear about the positive going on out there.  In the face of last week’s political storm over the shooting in Arizona, I am happy to report that even in the places you least expect it, there is hope and progress.

Voyage en Voiture

Traveling by auto can be very relaxing. Except when there is an oil well gushing uncontrollably in the Gulf as you set out on your adventure.



Once over the guilt, I was excited about tossing casually packed bags into the boot of the car, plotting a route that took us over scenic waterways, and stopping for lunch at a funky roadside cafe.



Everything except the fossil fuel consumption and actual driving part fits into my vignette of a perfect road trip. Slipping into a car that has a radar detector mounted on the windshield and a nav system talking at me makes me feel more like Lieutenant Uhura than a cute passenger on a romantic getaway.



We arrived in Montreal in record time and enjoyed a very French experience with lots of walking, talking and eating.



The city is beautiful and as progressive as it is historic.



The pièce de résistance was the last evening when we tried a tasting menu at a trendy restaurant. There was no description about the meal—and when we asked, the waiter in a pitch perfect accent told us, “No, no, it is the chef’s surprise.” I was never more happy in my life to have chosen the vegetarian option than when they presented a pigeon leg over foie gras to the Professor.

Bon Appetite!

Halfway Home

In transit—sitting in the British Airways Lounge in London, which, let me tell you, is a far cry from the Food Court in Istanbul. I am not sure if it’s the mood music, the plush carpet vs. the sticky linoleum that Sam is pretending to be swimming on, or the frothy cappuccino served in real china cups, but I am happy as a pig in… a blanket!

Steve grumbled that all marriages are better with airline clubs. I suspect he was referring to the pleasant mood which we are all in…but little does he know how correct he is…because there is much less of a chance I will run off with an uptight business man wrestling me for a better seat than the cute Rastafarians boozing it up in Istanbul at the bar at 7:30 this morning offering to buy me a beer…

If we took a holiday ...Took some time to celebrate

I am enjoying some quiet time on the last night of our European holiday. My husband, our two sons, my mom and I all took a cruise from Athens, Greece, through the islands and several ports in Turkey, and ended here in Istanbul. We just got back to the hotel after walking the streets during the first night of Ramadan…there were people, music and parties all over…

The trip was incredible. The only nerve-racking part was putting my mom into a Taksi last night. As the bellman loaded up her suitcases and I gave her a big hug, she all of the sudden seemed like a little girl that I was sending off with some driver who didn’t speak a lick of English in a very foreign city to an airport hotel all by herself…

Dear Allah, even though I drink, I do not pray 5 times a day, I only fast for secular reasons, and I will probably never make a pilgrimage to Mecca, I do, in fact, give money to the poor and I do believe there is a God, please keep my mother safe and get her back home in one piece. Thank you. P.S. If it isn’t too much trouble, could you also please make sure that I got a fair price on the rug I bought so my husband doesn’t get mad when he researches it, I would really appreciate it.

I'll Take Manhattan

My husband grew up in Manhattan so I have been visiting the city for years. But when you visit as the member of an Upper East Side Jewish family, you don't do the typical tourist stuff. Sure, you eat out, you maybe catch a show, you shop a little, but mostly, you visit aging relatives, take walks through Central Park and argue.

This past week, I had a change of pace. I hit the city with a group of friends visiting from La Jolla and Toronto. One of my best friends who lives there guided us to the hip and fashionable things to do. And, thanks to Chrissa, we got a reservation at a hot new restaurant, The Grill, at the Standard Hotel (meat packing district). She also recommended a better way to see NYC than the double decker bus--the Circle Line Boat Cruise. It was an incredible way to learn about the city (on a hot summer day). The boats are new, not crowded, and the tour guide gives a pretty good overview of the city's history and all its famous buildings, landmarks and people. And they serve adult beverages.

Other highlights included shopping on 5th Avenue, drinks at the Four Seasons (east side, near Columbus Circle), brunch at Balthazar (SoHo), and a Broadway show (Jersey Boys)...we walked for miles, drank for hours and completely recharged our batteries. Taking time out to hang with the girls is key to my sanity. I am now refreshed and ready to referee, buy meal worms, pick up Nerf bullets and discuss the merits of sunscreen ad nauseam.

Part 3: Live free or die

The last leg of our summer road trip was to Manhattan, but our flight out of Bangor was canceled due to weather. There were no more confirmed seats available for another week, so we re-booked for the next day out of Portland.

Steve and Charlie made it out on the 11am flight. Sam and I were booked on the 11:40, but it was delayed so we headed to the waterfront and while we were monkeying around our fight took off, as scheduled! We got back to the airport to find a group of angry, confused people standing at the gate. The best were a mother and daughter from Kennebunkport, prepped out from head to toe, complete with monogrammed carry-on. The daughter yelled, “This is bullshit!” I guess even Muffy can be brought to crude behavior. The monitors still read, “Flight Delayed to 12:45”. Someone’s ass is grass.

I was told that the best they could offer me was a cab ride to Boston and a late night flight to New York City. I asked to be on the next flight out of there, on any connection, to get me home to Ithaca. The “most senior person” at the airport said there wasn’t anything available for days. I pulled out my computer and as I was booting up, I looked him straight in the eye and said, “I hope you are right. I hate to think what will happen if I find two seats out of this airport today.” It didn’t get me seats but he did look a little scared.

After sizing up the scene, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. I got a refund for my U.S. Airways tickets and went over to the rental cars. There were lines at every counter with signs that read, “No cars available”. Sam can’t read but he can sense emotions. As I marched up to the National desk, he put his hand on mine and said, “Now, Mom, don’t get angry!” I went straight to the bald guy who looked intelligent and within 10 minutes, we had a car, nav system and full tank of gas. I know what the “override” button is for!

The best part of the whole experience was that Sam and I had a really great day driving back (8 hours). He did not complain once and was like a little bird, chirping and singing away in the backseat. It was sunny, we stopped for a leisurely lunch, saw lots of spectacular scenery—New England churches, harbor towns, farms and bikers! I was surprised at the number of motorcyclists without helmets. In California I call them “organ donors” but here I see people who are literal examples of the New Hampshire state motto, “Live free or die”. Words to live by.

Sam, my hero, on his "ship"

Part 2 of 3: Maine

Our extremely cool friends invited to us to stay at their family home in Maine—a gorgeous lake front property in Machias. They were gracious hosts…and we had such a memorable visit playing on (and in) the lake, hanging out, boiling innocent lobsters, and eating fresh blueberry pie that it felt like a Big Chill weekend, minus the single friend needing a favor from an old college buddy. Maureen and I usually end up talking all night, or at least until the wine runs out but this time we set a record--we were laughing so loud that her daughter was forced to come downstairs to tell us to knock it off.

We were also treated to a tour of Camp Eagle Wing, a classic New England sleep-away camp on the property next to theirs. Maureen’s oldest son is a CIT (Counselor in Training) there. Chick (preppy New England nickname for Charles), who owns and runs the camp, is an old family friend (Maureen worked for him growing up in Conneticut) and ended up sailing us all over the lake while giving each of the younger kids a sailing lesson... Of course every time he said “Prepare to Jibe”, and everyone chorused, “Ready to Jibe, Captain”, all Maureen and I wanted to do was break into song-- “Jibe talkin’” to the tune of the Bee Gees.

My entry wouldn’t be complete without saying what troopers the men were—they tirelessly gave the kids inner tube rides on the lake, boated and swam, and then, on the rainy day, while Maureen and I had coffee talk for 6 hours, Dean and Steve took the kids to get us all fresh lobster off the boat and later that day, after some old Fitch-Weber family traditions (naming the lobsters and racing them to see who will be cooked first), we sat down to a magnificent feast, complete with fresh corn on the cob so sweet Sam called it nature’s candy.

Finally, to make clear that Maureen and I are not the sit-on-the-dock, afraid-to-get-wet types, I should mention that we swam for an hour from the lakeshore, out to an island and back in dark water (read: cannot see what is swimming underneath you). Maureen and I felt like we had just swam the English Channel and were really proud of ourselves until Steve told us that he thought Maureen’s synchronized swimming demonstrations were pleas for help and he stood at attention the whole time on the dock with binoculars to make sure we weren’t drowning!

We had an incredible time and are thankful for such wonderful friends. An extra special hats off to Maureen’s mother who had the vision, wits and stamina to build “Camp Clyde” from the ground up—it is a magical place—thank you for sharing!

Cornell Plantations

Seeking inspiration and an outing for my family, we found both at the Cornell Plantations--an incredible spread of botanical gardens, arboretum (150 acres) and natural areas (4,300 acres of trails and ecological conservatories). I took the kids and my in-laws for a mini hike in the natural areas and through the arboretum. It was so impressive, I am adding it to my list of things that give me hope:

The List
1. We elected Obama
2. Good Samaritans (my favorite: last summer, trying to get out of the Tanglewood parking lot late at night, after fireworks and James Taylor concert, 8 men in country club garb stopped to help push our massive rental SUV out of the mud--they sunk down to their ankles and while I hit the gas and splattered mud all over them, they kept rockin and pushin that beast of a vehicle until it was on solid ground--leather loafers and white linen be damned!)
3. Cornell Plantations

You can see my list is short, which is why my goal for the year here is to restore my faith in humanity. No pressure on my Ithaca followers, but it feels really good to be living in a place where people not only know about the mass of plastic bottles the size of the United States floating around in the ocean, but they are actually doing something about it. And even though it's embarrassing, I am relieved when people stop and stare at me on those days I drink from a plastic water bottle or tote my groceries home in a non-green bag.

Cayuga Nature Center

The good part of living so close to all of this nature is the hiking...streams, wild flowers, moss-covered logs, majestic trees...The boys love it, too, which makes my heart soar. The only tricky part is navigating the trails with my New Yorker husband. "Is that poison ivy?" "Should we do a tick check?" "My GPS says we are heading in the wrong direction." No one will get hurt, lost or suffer any discomforts on his watch. I, on the other hand, think scratchy legs and getting lost in the woods are a right of passage...so, stay tuned. This is only hike #2 of about 50 I plan to do this summer, with or without our very well-educated bodyguard.

Cascadilla Gorge

Can you believe this is only 2 miles from us? Cascadilla Gorge is in the middle of downtown Ithaca, running through Cornell's College Town. Despite being surrounded by roads and buildings, it still has something of a wild feel due to the depth and steepness of the gorge. There is a well maintained trail through the gorge, which students use as a shortcut to campus. We hiked the little stretch from Linn Street to College Ave...