Scenes of Things to Come II

Sheraton Nassau Beach Resort

Scenes of Things to Come

Itinerary for Nassau

Yeehaw! I have finally finalized plans for my 3 night getaway to Nassau.

I will be leaving Toronto on Friday, March 19th, staying at the Sheraton for 3 nights and 4 glorious sun-filled days. The last time I was in the Bahamas was two years ago, in Freeport.

Day 1 - Friday
Arrival and then to the beach for the afternoon.
Dinner at Thai Lotus: "If you want great value, fantastic service, excellent food in a nice quiet, beautiful atmosphere, this is the place for you." (Source: TripAdvisor.com).
Evening: Explore the hotel next door, watch movie in room, sleep early.

Day 2 - Saturday
Buffet Breakfast at hotel.
Day at the beach!
Lunch: Arawak Cay: "Take a cab to "Fish Fry." It is actually called Arawak Cay, but the locals call it Fish Fry. When you get there you will find several shack-looking restaurants. At this point you might want to leave, but don't. My recommendation is a place called "Oh Andros." Many locals say it's the best in Fish Fry, and I must tell you, I had some of the tastiest, freshest seafood I have ever had."
Afternoon: Go into town and check out the straw market and breath the air at some of the pricier stores. Visit art gallery touted as having good Bahamian art.
Evening: Nap at the hotel
Night: Fish Fry on the beach, Casino

Day 3 - Sunday.
Buffet Breakfast at hotel
Morning: Walk through downtown Nassau
Afternoon: Scuba Diving
Dinner: Sushi
Night: Dancing


Day 4 - Monday
Buffet Breakfast
Beach...beach...beach
3 p.m. - Catch flight back to Toronto.

What Am I Reading?

I am currently some 300 pages into Richard Evans' wonderfully written tome on Nazi Germany during the war years -- 1939-1945.

The book (The Third Reich at War) is a beautifully written, meticulously documented (through letters, official documents and diaries of soldiers, victims and leaders)and touches on many different aspects of Germany's war polity.

And when I say, tome, I mean tome. The book is some seven hundred pages long and was well worth the wait time from the local library.

I have read auto-biographies by Elie Wiesel (Night) and Primo Levi's, Survival in Auschwitz and still, Evans' book brings home terribly the obscene depravity of the mass killings carried out by the Nazi's of Poles, Jews, Gypsies and other so called "sub-human" races. One of the most interesting things Evans has done is to bring to my attention the fact that the Nazi's were very careful not to directly order the mass extermination of, as they said, "jewry." Legalist bureacrats that they were, they were aware, even while denying it to be true, that there was something so very wrong in killing civilians en masse based on their ethnicity. And that history would judge their behaviours harshly. In the end, the 'final solution' was an accumulation of speeches vilifying the Jews and others, documents pushing leaders and soldiers to squeeze more work from the forced labourers, a need to keep the area behind the front line clear of partisans, a hierarchy of needs due to food shortages, years of indoctrination and propaganda starting in the pre-war years, which finally gave permission for people to be able to hammer, shoot, kick, hang, starve, over-work and gas the supposed enemies of the Nazi state.

The Man in the Potomac

Today, I thought of a man, whose name was unknown at the time that he became famous, who repeatedly handed over a life line thrown from a helicopter to his fellow survivors in the wintery waters of the Potomac River in Washington D.C. He was the only passenger, as we later learned, to have drowning declared as his cause of death.

I went looking for him today. His name was Arland Dean Williams Jr.

A Wikipedia article quotes the Washington Post's description of what happened after the crash of the passenger plane on January 13, 1982 and is worth quoting at length:

He was about 50 years old, one of half a dozen survivors clinging to twisted wreckage bobbing in the icy Potomac when the first helicopter arrived. To the copter's two-man Park Police crew he seemed the most alert. Life vests were dropped, then a flotation ball. The man passed them to the others. On two occasions, the crew recalled last night, he handed away a life line from the hovering machine that could have dragged him to safety. The helicopter crew - who rescued five people, the only persons who survived from the jetliner - lifted a woman to the riverbank, then dragged three more persons across the ice to safety. Then the life line saved a woman who was trying to swim away from the sinking wreckage, and the helicopter pilot, Donald W. Usher, returned to the scene, but the man was gone.

On January 25, 1982, Roger Rosenblatt, wrote a touching essay for Time Magazinehttp://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,925257-1,00.html on Arland Williams' extraordinary heroism.

Overjoyed

Over time, I've been building my castle of love
Just for two, though you never knew you were my reason
I've gone much too far for you now to say
That I've got to throw my castle away

Over dreams, I have picked out a perfect come true
Though you never knew it was of you I've been dreaming
The sandman has come from too far away
For you to say come back some other day

And though you don't believe that they do
They do come true
For did my dreams
Come true when I looked at you
And maybe too, if you would believe
You too might be
Overjoyed, over loved, over me

Over hearts, I have painfully turned every stone
Just to find, I had found what I've searched to discover
I've come much too far for me now to find
The love that I've sought can never be mine

And though you don't believe that they do
They do come true
For did my dreams
Come true when I looked at you
And maybe too, if you would believe
You too might be
Overjoyed, over loved, over me

And though the odds say improbable
What do they know
For in romance
All true love needs is a chance
And maybe with a chance you will find
You too like I
Overjoyed, over loved, over you, over you

Tarah At Five

When going through the car wash, she calls the pre-soak rinse the "free-soap." This fact is endlessly irritating to her brother.

She is lactose intolerant and lately, obsessed with farts, farting, smelly farts and all things poop (tee hee). She asks, "Mom, can you fart anywhere in this world?" A discussion then ensues about the etiquette of passing gas. About how her pregnant teacher needs to leave the room when a student farts otherwise she will throw up.

Later, we discussed the situation in the Ukraine and other such stuff.

Bo

The last speaker of an ancient language in India's Andaman Islands has died at the age of about 85, a leading linguist has told the BBC.

When Boa Sr sang in her own language, the result was gently hypnotic. "The earth is shaking as the tree falls, with a great thud," she sang, on a recording captured by linguists.

But the grey-haired, 85-year-old woman will not be heard again. And neither will her native tongue – Bo – aside from the recordings that have already been made. Campaigners revealed yesterday that the recent death of Boa Sr on India's remote Andaman Islands marked the end of the Bo tribe and the loss of a language.

Rogaine

This is exactly why I have avoided hair growth products...the results can be frightening.

iLike

Definately like the look of this new gadget. Definately was looking for a tablet pc before settling on my HP notebook. This is neither a tablet (where's the keyboard?) nor a kindle-type reader. To write up longer documents a touch keyboard would not work...even longer e-mails. Nevertheless, iLike. Oh, Bill, enough with the "i" in front of everything. iStop already!

Weekend, My A**!

The two days of rest signalled by the ever-gloried Friday afternoon never really occurs at my home. A case in point: this weekend.

Went to my mother's home at 9 p.m. Friday night after having dinner at home and blowing out the candles with Seth (the birthday boy). Slept overnight at mom's so I could be present to received the carpet installer. In my dad's absence, we are re-decorating his one room office.

After squaring up with the installer, came home to shower and take some goodies to LaserQuest (LQ), where we are holding Seth's 9th birthday party. On the way to LQ will pick up one of Seth's friends and then set up at LQ. My wife, in the meantime, has taken Tarah to ballet class, gone to pick up the cake and assorted goodies. Tarah and mom will arrive at LQ after the first game and then, "Happy birthday to you...Happy birthday to you..." then another game, goodbyes and back home to clean up.

In the evening, I will be taking at least one of the kiddies back to my mom's to check out the new carpet, install a shower head and fix the kitchen faucet. Also, will need to measure room for new shelving and possibly a new desk. Then back home.

Sunday: Go to Ikea in the morning, possibly bring items found at Ikea back to my mother's place and then? Seth has a birthday party to attend! What! What?

Oh yeah, the bathroom needs cleaning and need to vacuum the house. Kitchen floor to sweep and mop.

Ah, I love weekends....what was your weekend like?

What Am I Reading?

Spy (Thriller)
By Ted Bell

Ted Bell is a former advertising exec. turned writer. Spy pits Islamo-terrorism coming out of South America against the wits of a few "good Americans." A good read...but he's no John Le Carre.


The Frozen Leopard (Travelogue)
by Aaron Latham

Aaron Latham, journalist, ventures to Africa (Kenya and Rwanda) and tries to work his way out of his depression/writer's block. The chapters in the book are a little too episodic, but a nice easy read.


Schizophrenia: A Very Short Introduction
By Christopher Frith and Eve Johnstone

Frith is a Professor in Neuropsychology. Johnstone is Professor and Head of the Division of Psychiatry at the University of Edinburgh. (Yikes!) This a fabulous primer on the subject. By a stroke of luck, while prowling the bookshelves at the library, I came across this book which is one in a series of books on subjects like cosmology, psychology, Islam, Communism, etc. etc. Just picked up Galaxies: A Very Short Introduction...the book is much smaller than you would expect.

In reply to my previous post, Anwar Sumar asks:
"Can you describe that whole flesh wound thing...how it happened"

I don't normally indulge obvious attempts to mock me but....An Indian woman (looked to be in her early 20's) and her boyfriend/husband/whatever happened to have sat next to us at the pool that afternoon. They were, in my opinion, trying very hard not to look our way and smile or say, 'hello.' It was quite obvious that the woman in question was, how should I say without seeming arrogant, taken by me.

In order to attract my attention this girl...really, she was a girl...hardly a woman! Ordered a tall coconut drink complete with an umbrella. At least that's the way I remember it. I found this a little embarassing to be quite honest. Such unashamed attempts to gain my attention went on for a good part of the afternoon.

My buddy and pal -- Anwar; normally a schmoozer himself, decided to ignore the pool-side goings-on. He even hinted that this little girl's affections for me were a figment of my fecund imagination. And if there is one thing about me you should know...I do not take lightly people calling me fecund. No sir!

Anyways, to get to the moment of the wounding of my flesh and yes, even my heart...I was coming out of the pool where I had just gone in to void my bladder. I looked up to see my admirer doing exactly that. No. Not voiding her bladder but admiring me. True, the water was dripping off my man-boobs, my taut, muscled legs carried me ever closer to my seat and lo and behold what do I see? The girl in question was sitting in the middle of an inflatable ring complete with pictures of Disney characters. How cute I though to myself. I faltered and blurted out, "That's very nice."

She mis-judged my comment as being sarcastic and made a face which could only mean that our little romance had come to an end. I was Jack Tripper caught in a comedy of errors. Mr. Furley mistook me for something I was not and what ensued was that I ended up walking into my beach chair, scrapping a whole heap of skin (two inches of it) from top to bottom off my glistening shin.

And that, as they say, was that. I hope this satisfies your need to mock me Sumar! You may want to take a gander at Anwar's encounter with a Man-Maid at the Sheraton in New Delhi here. Who's laughing now, laughing boy?

Open Letter to the Park Hyatt in Goa

Dear Park Hyatt,

I know it has been quite some time since I was with you. My apologies for not writing sooner. Between getting back to Toronto, starting into work and family commitments, I simply haven't found any time to write.

I recently posted some more pics of you that Anwar had taken. You may remember him from our visit in late September of last year. Anyways, the pictures have brought you back to mind: Memories of having showers in your rooms...was it 348...how soon I've forgotten. Forgive me.

Your lush grounds which were meticulously kept by the battalion of grounds-people; chestnut brown meandering boardwalks leading to a white-sand beach which literally went on for miles and miles. Your multiple pools: so clean, curvacious and inviting. The fountains on the pathways leading to our room. The palm trees, the Masaai-red earth which nurtured such luxuriant growth, the birds and yes, even the lizards have me singing your praises.

I apologize. For not writing sooner, but also, for not squeezing more enjoyment out of our time together. For taking you for granted and caring overly much for my own comfort. Besides your memories all I have left are questions. Why didn't I take more pictures of you, explore your alleyways and touch the stone work I walked on or use the hot tub at night? Why is it not possible for my mind to be as still as a photograph and for long enough to lull me to sleep with you in mind.

There's a rock in the pool which is closest to the ocean. My friend and I spent a whole afternoon lazing next to this pool. There is a rock that forms the edge of one side of that pool; a seat has been carved into that rock. You know the one I mean? Where one can come out of the pool sit on the half submerged rock and admire the view of the grounds leading to the beach, and further on, the ocean. That was a great place to take a break from the swimming. I did recognize it at the time for what it was -- a sublime spot for a repose.

I hate to sound overly sentimental, but it is this way, especially when I think of you. What can one say in closing except, thank you.

p.s. I inadvertently scrapped two inches of skin off my right shin while walking around that pool. The bleeding wouldn't stop. My friend suggested calling someone to bandage my leg. At the time, it was painful and I was too busy dealing with the pain to give the flap of skin much thought. I tore it off and let it fall. Now, I think, wistfully, that perhaps you knew I would soon depart and this was your way of keeping a little of me with you.

I will return one day. I promise.

Article of Note: The War on Drugs

"Reading the stories of so many lives derailed by drugs and hobbled by poverty, one can’t help but ask: are we winning the war on drugs? It’s been exactly forty years since Richard Nixon declared drug abuse “a serious national threat” and coined the phrase “War on Drugs.”