First Mainland Visit in ~Four Years
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| Getting Lei-ed on my 60th birthday |
After a few weeks of Hawaiian fresh air therapy, I settled in to write about my first time off the islands in almost four years. Time to visit the mainland. As I opened up the blog I could not help but notice that more and more time was passing between posts. So I clicked on my first post Chef Ted Gettin Started published on March 28, 2012 to see where my mind was at as I opened up Chef Ted's A Wanderin' and A Ponderin'
On, or really long before that date, I had come to the decision that I didn't want to do what I was doing anymore. What with three children doing their thing, two contested divorces under my belt and the fact that the cool shabby chic college village of Charlottesville, one that I had first hung out in in high school, had disappeared into a booming metropolis with bus lines, ~700 restaurants and a Walmart.
Although my catering business did fine right up until it's last day, the writing was on the wall. Increased competition from everywhere in America and the burgeoning farm to table Millennial movement meant fight or flight. And I was tired. Work harder and smarter against increasingly younger and younger chefs to make less and less profit because of the costs associated with the organic movement, or say fuck it and find another way to live. Like a wanderin' and a ponderin'. But how? Where?
Although the house was paid for, I still needed some money for taxes and the constant upkeep on a five bedroom mountain house that eventually found only me and my daughter living there. And some money for me meant more unrewarding work just to be open for business.
Although my catering business did fine right up until it's last day, the writing was on the wall. Increased competition from everywhere in America and the burgeoning farm to table Millennial movement meant fight or flight. And I was tired. Work harder and smarter against increasingly younger and younger chefs to make less and less profit because of the costs associated with the organic movement, or say fuck it and find another way to live. Like a wanderin' and a ponderin'. But how? Where?
Although the house was paid for, I still needed some money for taxes and the constant upkeep on a five bedroom mountain house that eventually found only me and my daughter living there. And some money for me meant more unrewarding work just to be open for business.
Although Caroline wasn't settled yet, I knew she would make it on her own schedule, the two boys were doing fine in their jobs in the Washington DC area and they were less and less frequent visitors. They had busy lives as they should; so I decided: you know what? I am going to hit the road again.
Get an RV and drive around until something happens:
Hopefully I mulled, the RVwill end up in a place like this and I will be, doing something like this:
Get an RV and drive around until something happens:
Hopefully I mulled, the RVwill end up in a place like this and I will be, doing something like this:
Now the blog is over five years old with some 87 posts and details the liquidation of nearly everything I owned and eventual escape here:
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| My Happy Home for several years now. |
Had I become a local?
The posts between that first one and the April 9, 2013 post I think Ted just joined a cult in Hawaii (which remains to this day the most googled of all the posts, as, I guess, people are interested in cults in Hawaii) document the different roads that led to the the decision to sell it all move to Hawaii.
August 19 will mark four years on the Big Island. If I had to choose one word to define my mood these days: gratitude. I am grateful for my Hawaiian life every day, sometimes several times a day. I always wanted to live in a terrarium and now I live in a tropical botanical garden. Looking back, man did I hit the gold mine. The adventures started as soon as I woke up August 14, 2013 in a tent in the jungle.
Be that as it may, now is not time for a reprise of former glory. I have a new adventure to report on: an extended visit to the *real world*.
Be that as it may, now is not time for a reprise of former glory. I have a new adventure to report on: an extended visit to the *real world*.
I flew into Baltimore from San Diego on the red eye, so I was in my rental car and on the Baltimore-Washington Expressway just in time for morning rush hour by 8:00 AM. As I merged onto the on ramp, a tractor trailer with what, a DC 9 bulldozer strapped on to it's trailer, came barreling down the entering lane at ~75 miles an hour. This rig was like the Titanic, it would have take the dude 10 miles to stop, maybe even set his brakes on fire in the process. Right then, I thought that people die out here every day and I need to get *mindfull* real quick and get to DC in one piece; and I ain't talking yoga *mindfulness* either. Four years in la-la land and a leisurely red eye flight; it was time to get into this rush hour game.
Oh, yeah. Living in NOVA land is starting to come back to me now.
Charles had stayed at the Anderson House as much as I had in the late Jurassic and and I had taken the kids there a time or two when they were young. So for a couple of nights we four drank, reminisced about what went awry, and generally caught up since their respective last trips to Hawaii. We snooped around the deserted king's abode, always mindful of possible hidden alarms (now that would have been bad!) and then headed out to Dupont Circle for more inner city hipster dining.
As I planned to have this little reception in my suite for Hunter's 30th birthday party, Charles and I stocked the old fashioned sink with iced libation before heading out again to restaurant land in the Dupont Circle neighborhood.
I kinda knew that the conservative Anderson Houseraised an eyebrow at prohibited any behavior that could be construed as merry, gleeful, rowdy, debauched or mirthful jollity.
As I said before, after the museum on the first floor closed and the office employees left for the day, I had the place to myself. EXCEPT THE DAY OF THE PARTY. Unfortunately for us, there was a wedding photo shoot for an Ivanka and Jared type wedding.
We kept an eye out for Hunter and Giles and their girlfriends, Danielle and Lauren, from the third floor, sipping on a few Liquid Alohas from Kona Brewing Company. Then we saw them coming up the driveway, all looking dashing, but stunning would be more applicable to Danielle and Lauren. Just as we opened the door for them, the wedding party broke from a shot in the driveway and headed through the front door as well.
Fucking unluckily for us, the manger happened to be standing right there and probably thought our group was either part of the shoot or that Charles and I were getting ready to have some kind of creepy sorority party up on the third floor.
"NO GUESTS ALLOWED ON THE THIRD FLOOR!!"
Grumbling and mumbling under or collective breaths, we did the adult thing. We quickly assessed our options, regrouped and adjourned to a happening outdoor happy hour on Dupont Circle and then went on to have a big night at Hank's Oyster Bar
Actually, had I taken the time to ever read the rules of the place, and I had a lot of decades to do so, I would have read that no guests are allowed on the third floor and especially UNMARRIED WOMEN.
So I guess what appeared to be a potential hootenanny getting ready to happen on the third floor on his watch, the manager was correct in his brusque alarm.
Next was a visit to Baltimore to visit Charles and his better half, Rebecca. Charles and I pulled out of DC, after an awesome hangover cure visit to the best Jewish Deli ever, per Lauren. Maybe true delis exist somewhere in Hawaii, but not on the Big Island. I haven't encountered a pastrami and Swiss like the one I had at DGS Delicatessen in ~four yeas. We headed onto parkway after on ramp, after bridge and tunnel, to cover the ~30 miles back to B-Town.
They live in a townhouse that borders leafy older parts of downtown as well as da hood. One afternoon we walked to the only grocery store that didn't require a complicated drive to suburbia. Sure there are liquor stores and fried food places with barricaded order windows, but a paucity of places to buy decent food. Other neighborhoods in the area have 5 or 6 different grocery stores with the likes of Whole Foods competing with Trader Joe's. Oh, well, now's not the time to worry about the inequities of life.
I have read thatsome all of these chains are reluctant to invest in the inner city because of the recent riots where they looted and burnt the last one down. This store was poorly maintained, many of the shelves were stocked with the cans and bottles still in the boxes and hardly a veggie in sight. We did manage to put together a low quality frozen egg roll appetizer and a bottled spaghetti sauce and garlic bread dinner (actually not that much different from a "quiet night" meal we would fix at someone's house here in Hawaii) . Went well with fine wine from Charles' cellar.
A day or so later, I rode along as retired Charles did the weekly shopping, as dutifully employed Rebecca was atwork prison (her words). We drove over a bewildering array of several bridges and ramps, cars and trucks whizzing everywhere, to go to a Wegmans.
The grocery stores in Puna have more resemblance to the stores in the hood than to a place like Wegmans. What, as big as a football field, 100 people working there, with an organic vegetable section bigger than that whole store in the hood, sushi bars, pizza bars, a bar with like 20 happening beers on tap.....whew.
It is not like I didn't know what a giant suburban grocery store was like before, but with several years of living in this part of Hawaii juxtaposed with the yoga moms pushing giant strollers and checking out item's bar codes on their smart phones was a little jarring. Feeling a little vertiginous, I envisioned an earlier than usual happy hour to treat MAINLAND ANXIETY.
One afternoon we went to Parts and Labor Butchery a butcher shop centric restaurant in an about to be gentrified Baltimore neighborhood. Awesome; don't have shit like that in Hawaii either. As I watched the young earnest butchers and cooks safely from the bar, I was thankful that I am too old too work there and content to be on the right side of the bar. Check please!
It was then time for Hunter's 30th birthday party. We went to the house in Arlington, where Hillary and I lived and where Hunter came home to for his first night in the *real world* after the hospital.
There is a picture somewhere of me holding Hunter, in his first minutes home from Arlington hospital, in this exact spot, a few days after May 5, 1987. Hunter's mom and I couldn't really afford this house then, which I think we bought for $220K. What did the young couple that allowed us to take this picture as they unloaded a fairly new baby pay? Shudder.
Giles did a extraordinary job of arranging this 30th birthday bash at an Arlington Irish Bar.
Many friends and parents of Hunter, Danielle and Giles attended, and it went on for more than six hours. I ended up a Millenial party back at Hunter and Giles' townhouse that went past 2:00 AM. Me, the old boy, held his own to the end though.
Next I wandered down to Richmond,Virginia to stay with my mom and stepfather. I had not seen them since Conversations, Fine Restaurants and Ghosts in Kansas City The big event was for Caroline's graduation with a major in Criminal Justice from Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond. You go girl!
We all went to the Convocation Center on the sprawling urban campus of VCU in a nice chauffeured Sprinter bus. Afterwards my Mom and Billy hosted a reception at the house they moved to since that post about Kansas City.
Caroline's Ohana
Caroline's boyfriend Michael, was very helpful in guarding our seats at the Convocation Center where the hungry mob was clawing at him for the dozen or so empty seats he had reserved for us. Later, he did what any sensible person would do in a situation in which you are a stranger surrounded by your girlfriend's ohana all going blah blah blah...he went and got his Armenian oud. You did great Michael and at times, I felt for ya dude.
And she's off! The graduate cutting the cake. Bon Voyage, Caroline and Michael! Thank you Mom and Billy!
Packed things up and took a leisurely ramble to Charlottesville, passing through Cuckoo,Virginia on my way.
To visit my long time friends, Calvin and Louise. I have known Calvin since high school and he made his fortune investing in Chef Ted Catering in 1992. Could do a years lasting blog devoted to Calvin's...."travels".
Passed by Stony Point School, where all three children went to elementary school. It was/is? a classic public country day school. Classes were small and the teachers cared. The kids still see friends from those days. As I drove by and I swear I saw Mr. Flynn watching over recess. He retired 20 some years ago, but damn if it didn't look like him.
Drove by 733 Wolf Trap Road where I lived from ~1991 until moving to Hawaii. Used to cut that lawn with a push mower when the kids were young. We built that wall and did most of the landscaping. They had cut out a few more driveways on the street since I have been gone, but it was still pretty peaceful at 10:00 AM on a school day.
Had my breakfast at Bodo's, a Charlottesville tradition, institution and success story. Ate there hundreds of times over the years and it was always big city spot on. Had my usual pastrami and Swiss on an everything bagel with brown mustard and their signature Caesar salad. Pure Joy.
There was a time I would have known a dozen people in there at anytime of the day. On this visit, I knew no one and could have been in any bustling restaurant in any city USA. Maybe they all died or moved away?
Sat out in the parking lot of the former Chef Ted's Shimmy Club. Whew! the shit that went on in that building. I actually had a little anxiety attack sitting there. The traffic in Charlottesville is horrific now and seeing that white van parked where my van used to park made me briefly think I was late for a big job up at the Law School and mired in traffic. But all was quiet on this workday and I had to *mind fully* remind myself that I sold the business five years ago and had moved to Hawaii.
I first came to Charlottesville with a friend's family to see the University of Virginia Cavaliers lose when I was in about the 8th grade. At that time you basically just walked to the stadium and ran around on a big grassy knoll. We usually didn't watch the game much and usually UVA lost. Real student athletes then.
I continued to visit while at boarding school mainly because of my friend Will at EHS, who you will meet next, lived there. It was a funky little mountainous college town, shabby chic, and in 1974 Playboy left UVA off it's list of the best party schools in the country.
When faced with howls of indignation and outrage, the editor said he did it because "we don't rate professionals". The rock and roll scene was burgeoning and the drinking age of 18 was laxly enforced.
I was lucky enough to get into UVA and basically C'Ville then became my home.
The above picture is Main Street today which back in the day was a empty, kind of spooky at night, corridor between the University and downtown. Someone said it was a "wino safari" to walk downtown. Someone else then said "we need to develop this wasted part of Charlottesville!" And boy is development developing.
And since I moved to Hawaii the development has frenetically continued. It is now a small city on it's way to becoming a medium city. Growth is good, right?
Will and Cindy always loved the bucolic life and even in the day, Charlottesville proper had too much hustle and bustle about it for them, so they moved to Orange. Here we are at the restaurant that Caroline works at and was our waitress that night.
While Cindy and Will were atwork prison, I wandered around Wilderness Battlefield with Caroline one day before she went to work and later Spotsylvania Courthouse Battlefield. Bloody business in these fields folks.
Been a fan of The BBQ Exchange outside of Orange in Gordonsville since they opened. Big time chef Craig Hartman gave it all up to do BBQ right. Place has brisket and home made pickles down.
Kept a drivn' and cryin' for all the good food I had been enjoying for the past few weeks to Hanover County, outside of Richmond.
To visit my brother Carter and his wife Leesie. They are one example in the family for how to stay long time married.....MOVE AROUND!
The most current move was to a farm and Leesie seems in heaven with various horses, dogs, ducks, gardens, compost piles and sundry farmy things.
It was nice to hangout with them, maybe for the first time ever, without children and of course no offense to children intended.
One day we went to a grand opening of sorts at Shalom Farms My cousin Nan was heavily involved in this project, which basically is to get fresh veggies to people who do not traditionally eat vegetables, or at least educate people about vegetables.
It is cool that Carter, Leesie and Nan are in to this kind of agrarian thing or the area would end up looking like Main Street in Charlottesville: Everywhere USA.
Retraced my itinerary to see my Mom and Billy, the boys and Charles and Rebecca one more time, a few naps here and there, a few cookouts here and there, a little wanderin around old stomping grounds and pondering if all these things had even happened; and it was time to head home.
Had an unexpected layover in San Diego.
I always loved old school train stations. Caught a train to the end of the line to the border crossing at San Isidro.
Had a hankering for chilis rellenos in Tijuana so I walked towards the border on this foot bridge.
But thought better of it when I got to these gates and realized that it might be easy to walk into Mexico, but maybe not so easy waltzing back into the US, especially with a flight to Hawaii leaving in 6 hours. What could go wrong?
And nothing did go wrong, so I had the lunch in old town San Diego.
Got the chili relleno that I could have gotten in Anywhere USA.
So after three weeks I landed back in Kona to regroup for a few days in a dark room at the gigantic Marriot.
"What reality was *real* I thought?
Was it all those photos above recording all the good times I had just had catching up with family and friends?
Or was it the four years in Hawaii documented in this blog?
It is both of course.
It was the coconut lady bringing by a Samoan green coconut to my hale on a Saturday morning to naturally replace the lost electrolytes from the night before and to hopefully spur me into beach mode.
At the beginning of this post, I wondered how many times could I post cool pics on the beaches of Kona and still have the blog remain interesting?
But even so, Hawaii continues to interest.
Should I post pics of of a trek through Kalopa Reserve's old growth forest, micro-climate after micro-climate, on a Tuesday afternoon? Not a soul in sight and the giant Ohia tree's branches rubbing together in the wind in such a way that echoed eerie, slightly threatening flute music?
He had a group of us over to his oceanfront unfinished, abandoned and if he doesn't do something pretty soon, sinking back into the jungle mansion. The invitation said to bring bathing suits if you wanted to take a tour of the lava tube.
Adrian removed a large tree trunk that was blocking the entrance to a muddy, totally dark, flooded by heavy rains and seawater, lava tube. (The tree was put there after at least one person recently died up in there *meditating* The water was chest deep and the only lights they had were from smartphones. All's well that ends well for the folks that swam up in there and the Facebook shots and videos brought envy to those who the posters thought should be envious. Glad they did 'cause....
Like I was gonna put down my beer, take off my cocktail hour Hawaiian shirt and swim up in that shit.
JOY/DANGER/HASSLE/REWARD RATIOS AIN'T RIGHT!
These are the kinds of happenings that maybe need witnessing, that just pop up in this neck of the woods if you just put yourself out there .
Late night Korean style ribs in the haunted unfinished jungle mansion with no electricity. I hope the good doctor didn't mind us chillin' and grillin' at his place.
In this case yes.
I went to the ENO Hammock website to ask them just how long are these things supposed to last anyway?
I also entered these pictures in a "send us cool pictures of yourself enjoying ENO hammocks in exotic locals, preferably with a girl in a bikini and you might just win something" promotion/contest to present ENO hammocks in the best possible light.
Just because I thought it would be as humorous to someone at ENO as it was to me here at Laupahoehoe Park, having been on the receiving end of said calamity.
Replacement hammock came in via Fed Ex a few days later.
In the meantime though, I just tossed the ripped hammock and moved on over to the zero gravity chair to sort out the matter of:
"Egad! Have I become a local with nothing left to say?"
Oh, yeah. Living in NOVA land is starting to come back to me now.
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| Where am I?
No GPS yo. I got to DC just "aiming" with stored knowledge from yesteryear. I then spent a frustrating hour parking in an antiquated underground parking space, under a hotel that had seen its better days. The concrete ceilings were like 8 feet high, scraping another car or the concrete roof with my brand new rented Nissan Rouge was always a possibility; and it was $30 per day for the parking. ANGST!
I checked into the Anderson House in the leafy historic neighborhood of Dupont Circle. I am a hereditary member of the Society of Cincinnati and have stayed in this Washington DC mansion every decade or so. True to its unique way of operating, they flipped me a key to the joint and soon I was banging around the palace by myself; just me and the ghosts, like I have been doing since I was about ten. |
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When the gang came to visit, they could see me in that window on the third floor left, as I signaled that I would catch the elevator down and open the massive front door in a few...like I was the master of the house warmly welcoming weekend guests.  |
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Seriously, I had the key to this place. I remember when they locked us in here while visiting Washington DC as a kid. The riots had just broken out after Martin Luther King's assassination. If the rioters wanted to scare the shit out of white people by setting the town on fire, they kinda succeeded. But not with the Leake family as we could watch the show with popcorn safely ensconced on the third floor patio of our very own Bastille. The purpose of choosing the Anderson house this time, besides letting me be a pretender for a while, staying in a cool relic of another incredibly conspicuous consumptive era, was to be near my brother and my children Hunter and Giles as well as an unique place for a little gathering feteing Hunter's ensuing 30th birthday. |
As I planned to have this little reception in my suite for Hunter's 30th birthday party, Charles and I stocked the old fashioned sink with iced libation before heading out again to restaurant land in the Dupont Circle neighborhood.
I kinda knew that the conservative Anderson House
As I said before, after the museum on the first floor closed and the office employees left for the day, I had the place to myself. EXCEPT THE DAY OF THE PARTY. Unfortunately for us, there was a wedding photo shoot for an Ivanka and Jared type wedding.
We kept an eye out for Hunter and Giles and their girlfriends, Danielle and Lauren, from the third floor, sipping on a few Liquid Alohas from Kona Brewing Company. Then we saw them coming up the driveway, all looking dashing, but stunning would be more applicable to Danielle and Lauren. Just as we opened the door for them, the wedding party broke from a shot in the driveway and headed through the front door as well.
Fucking unluckily for us, the manger happened to be standing right there and probably thought our group was either part of the shoot or that Charles and I were getting ready to have some kind of creepy sorority party up on the third floor.
"NO GUESTS ALLOWED ON THE THIRD FLOOR!!"
Grumbling and mumbling under or collective breaths, we did the adult thing. We quickly assessed our options, regrouped and adjourned to a happening outdoor happy hour on Dupont Circle and then went on to have a big night at Hank's Oyster Bar
Actually, had I taken the time to ever read the rules of the place, and I had a lot of decades to do so, I would have read that no guests are allowed on the third floor and especially UNMARRIED WOMEN.
So I guess what appeared to be a potential hootenanny getting ready to happen on the third floor on his watch, the manager was correct in his brusque alarm.
Rebecca contemplates the Pacific southern view and Charles enjoys a pond at Secret Beach on a visit to Hawaii a few years ago.
Next was a visit to Baltimore to visit Charles and his better half, Rebecca. Charles and I pulled out of DC, after an awesome hangover cure visit to the best Jewish Deli ever, per Lauren. Maybe true delis exist somewhere in Hawaii, but not on the Big Island. I haven't encountered a pastrami and Swiss like the one I had at DGS Delicatessen in ~four yeas. We headed onto parkway after on ramp, after bridge and tunnel, to cover the ~30 miles back to B-Town.
They live in a townhouse that borders leafy older parts of downtown as well as da hood. One afternoon we walked to the only grocery store that didn't require a complicated drive to suburbia. Sure there are liquor stores and fried food places with barricaded order windows, but a paucity of places to buy decent food. Other neighborhoods in the area have 5 or 6 different grocery stores with the likes of Whole Foods competing with Trader Joe's. Oh, well, now's not the time to worry about the inequities of life.
I have read that
A day or so later, I rode along as retired Charles did the weekly shopping, as dutifully employed Rebecca was at
The grocery stores in Puna have more resemblance to the stores in the hood than to a place like Wegmans. What, as big as a football field, 100 people working there, with an organic vegetable section bigger than that whole store in the hood, sushi bars, pizza bars, a bar with like 20 happening beers on tap.....whew.
It is not like I didn't know what a giant suburban grocery store was like before, but with several years of living in this part of Hawaii juxtaposed with the yoga moms pushing giant strollers and checking out item's bar codes on their smart phones was a little jarring. Feeling a little vertiginous, I envisioned an earlier than usual happy hour to treat MAINLAND ANXIETY.
One afternoon we went to Parts and Labor Butchery a butcher shop centric restaurant in an about to be gentrified Baltimore neighborhood. Awesome; don't have shit like that in Hawaii either. As I watched the young earnest butchers and cooks safely from the bar, I was thankful that I am too old too work there and content to be on the right side of the bar. Check please!
It was then time for Hunter's 30th birthday party. We went to the house in Arlington, where Hillary and I lived and where Hunter came home to for his first night in the *real world* after the hospital.
There is a picture somewhere of me holding Hunter, in his first minutes home from Arlington hospital, in this exact spot, a few days after May 5, 1987. Hunter's mom and I couldn't really afford this house then, which I think we bought for $220K. What did the young couple that allowed us to take this picture as they unloaded a fairly new baby pay? Shudder.
Giles did a extraordinary job of arranging this 30th birthday bash at an Arlington Irish Bar.
Many friends and parents of Hunter, Danielle and Giles attended, and it went on for more than six hours. I ended up a Millenial party back at Hunter and Giles' townhouse that went past 2:00 AM. Me, the old boy, held his own to the end though.
Next I wandered down to Richmond,Virginia to stay with my mom and stepfather. I had not seen them since Conversations, Fine Restaurants and Ghosts in Kansas City The big event was for Caroline's graduation with a major in Criminal Justice from Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond. You go girl!
We all went to the Convocation Center on the sprawling urban campus of VCU in a nice chauffeured Sprinter bus. Afterwards my Mom and Billy hosted a reception at the house they moved to since that post about Kansas City.
Caroline, Billy and my Mom
Hunter, Hillary, mother of my offspring, my ex-wife and Caroline's biggest supporter, Caroline, me and Giles
Can't forget Hillary's husband Steve who enthusiastically supported Caroline's journey for years.
Caroline's Ohana
Caroline's boyfriend Michael, was very helpful in guarding our seats at the Convocation Center where the hungry mob was clawing at him for the dozen or so empty seats he had reserved for us. Later, he did what any sensible person would do in a situation in which you are a stranger surrounded by your girlfriend's ohana all going blah blah blah...he went and got his Armenian oud. You did great Michael and at times, I felt for ya dude.
And she's off! The graduate cutting the cake. Bon Voyage, Caroline and Michael! Thank you Mom and Billy!
Packed things up and took a leisurely ramble to Charlottesville, passing through Cuckoo,Virginia on my way.
To visit my long time friends, Calvin and Louise. I have known Calvin since high school and he made his fortune investing in Chef Ted Catering in 1992. Could do a years lasting blog devoted to Calvin's...."travels".
Passed by Stony Point School, where all three children went to elementary school. It was/is? a classic public country day school. Classes were small and the teachers cared. The kids still see friends from those days. As I drove by and I swear I saw Mr. Flynn watching over recess. He retired 20 some years ago, but damn if it didn't look like him.
Drove by 733 Wolf Trap Road where I lived from ~1991 until moving to Hawaii. Used to cut that lawn with a push mower when the kids were young. We built that wall and did most of the landscaping. They had cut out a few more driveways on the street since I have been gone, but it was still pretty peaceful at 10:00 AM on a school day.
Had my breakfast at Bodo's, a Charlottesville tradition, institution and success story. Ate there hundreds of times over the years and it was always big city spot on. Had my usual pastrami and Swiss on an everything bagel with brown mustard and their signature Caesar salad. Pure Joy.
There was a time I would have known a dozen people in there at anytime of the day. On this visit, I knew no one and could have been in any bustling restaurant in any city USA. Maybe they all died or moved away?
Sat out in the parking lot of the former Chef Ted's Shimmy Club. Whew! the shit that went on in that building. I actually had a little anxiety attack sitting there. The traffic in Charlottesville is horrific now and seeing that white van parked where my van used to park made me briefly think I was late for a big job up at the Law School and mired in traffic. But all was quiet on this workday and I had to *mind fully* remind myself that I sold the business five years ago and had moved to Hawaii.
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| Main Street Today |
I first came to Charlottesville with a friend's family to see the University of Virginia Cavaliers lose when I was in about the 8th grade. At that time you basically just walked to the stadium and ran around on a big grassy knoll. We usually didn't watch the game much and usually UVA lost. Real student athletes then.
I continued to visit while at boarding school mainly because of my friend Will at EHS, who you will meet next, lived there. It was a funky little mountainous college town, shabby chic, and in 1974 Playboy left UVA off it's list of the best party schools in the country.
When faced with howls of indignation and outrage, the editor said he did it because "we don't rate professionals". The rock and roll scene was burgeoning and the drinking age of 18 was laxly enforced.
I was lucky enough to get into UVA and basically C'Ville then became my home.
The above picture is Main Street today which back in the day was a empty, kind of spooky at night, corridor between the University and downtown. Someone said it was a "wino safari" to walk downtown. Someone else then said "we need to develop this wasted part of Charlottesville!" And boy is development developing.
And since I moved to Hawaii the development has frenetically continued. It is now a small city on it's way to becoming a medium city. Growth is good, right?
Will and Cindy always loved the bucolic life and even in the day, Charlottesville proper had too much hustle and bustle about it for them, so they moved to Orange. Here we are at the restaurant that Caroline works at and was our waitress that night.
While Cindy and Will were at
Been a fan of The BBQ Exchange outside of Orange in Gordonsville since they opened. Big time chef Craig Hartman gave it all up to do BBQ right. Place has brisket and home made pickles down.
Kept a drivn' and cryin' for all the good food I had been enjoying for the past few weeks to Hanover County, outside of Richmond.
To visit my brother Carter and his wife Leesie. They are one example in the family for how to stay long time married.....MOVE AROUND!
The most current move was to a farm and Leesie seems in heaven with various horses, dogs, ducks, gardens, compost piles and sundry farmy things.
It was nice to hangout with them, maybe for the first time ever, without children and of course no offense to children intended.
One day we went to a grand opening of sorts at Shalom Farms My cousin Nan was heavily involved in this project, which basically is to get fresh veggies to people who do not traditionally eat vegetables, or at least educate people about vegetables.
It is cool that Carter, Leesie and Nan are in to this kind of agrarian thing or the area would end up looking like Main Street in Charlottesville: Everywhere USA.
Retraced my itinerary to see my Mom and Billy, the boys and Charles and Rebecca one more time, a few naps here and there, a few cookouts here and there, a little wanderin around old stomping grounds and pondering if all these things had even happened; and it was time to head home.
Had an unexpected layover in San Diego.
I always loved old school train stations. Caught a train to the end of the line to the border crossing at San Isidro.
Had a hankering for chilis rellenos in Tijuana so I walked towards the border on this foot bridge.
But thought better of it when I got to these gates and realized that it might be easy to walk into Mexico, but maybe not so easy waltzing back into the US, especially with a flight to Hawaii leaving in 6 hours. What could go wrong?
And nothing did go wrong, so I had the lunch in old town San Diego.
Got the chili relleno that I could have gotten in Anywhere USA.
So after three weeks I landed back in Kona to regroup for a few days in a dark room at the gigantic Marriot.
"What reality was *real* I thought?
Was it all those photos above recording all the good times I had just had catching up with family and friends?
Or was it the four years in Hawaii documented in this blog?
It is both of course.
It was the coconut lady bringing by a Samoan green coconut to my hale on a Saturday morning to naturally replace the lost electrolytes from the night before and to hopefully spur me into beach mode.
At the beginning of this post, I wondered how many times could I post cool pics on the beaches of Kona and still have the blog remain interesting?
But even so, Hawaii continues to interest.
Should I post pics of of a trek through Kalopa Reserve's old growth forest, micro-climate after micro-climate, on a Tuesday afternoon? Not a soul in sight and the giant Ohia tree's branches rubbing together in the wind in such a way that echoed eerie, slightly threatening flute music?
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| Am I still even in Hawaii? |
Should I post about Adrian who I met because of the heavy equipment work he does in the area? He is quick to point out that "this is not who I am". He was veterinarian and investor in "some businesses" in Romania. This evening we never got to the English refugee camp part of his journey.
Anywhoo...he always liked my Europe-centric style of cooking and greeted me warmly as "Mr. Cook-man".
Anywhoo...he always liked my Europe-centric style of cooking and greeted me warmly as "Mr. Cook-man".
He had a group of us over to his oceanfront unfinished, abandoned and if he doesn't do something pretty soon, sinking back into the jungle mansion. The invitation said to bring bathing suits if you wanted to take a tour of the lava tube.
Like I was gonna put down my beer, take off my cocktail hour Hawaiian shirt and swim up in that shit.
JOY/DANGER/HASSLE/REWARD RATIOS AIN'T RIGHT!
These are the kinds of happenings that maybe need witnessing, that just pop up in this neck of the woods if you just put yourself out there .
The gist of the story is ~20 years ago, a retired doctor was to build a beautiful retirement home here on Red Road. Details are sketchy, but he fell off the roof one day and was paralyzed.
Ryan, who reluctantly works on a fishing boat in Alaska part of the year, stands with me in front of the RV that the good doctor lived in with a ventilator and a morphine pump for several years after the accident; and eventually died in. The wife went back to California and Adrian ended up with the property. Gotta post it, no?
You can see that it was going to be a fine retirement hale for the good doctor.You just never know sweet reader, when the jig is going to be up.
Meet Crandle, born and bred Hawaiian, a Kalani legend, who holds court at dinner. I am going to have to do a whole blog on his story and it is quite a story.
In short, DON'T FUCK AROUND WHEN CRANDLE TELLS YOU TO STOP DOING WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU ARE DOING!
Should a catastrophic equipment failure while reading be recorded and if so, will the blog still stay pertinent?
In this case yes.
I went to the ENO Hammock website to ask them just how long are these things supposed to last anyway?
I also entered these pictures in a "send us cool pictures of yourself enjoying ENO hammocks in exotic locals, preferably with a girl in a bikini and you might just win something" promotion/contest to present ENO hammocks in the best possible light.
Just because I thought it would be as humorous to someone at ENO as it was to me here at Laupahoehoe Park, having been on the receiving end of said calamity.
Replacement hammock came in via Fed Ex a few days later.
In the meantime though, I just tossed the ripped hammock and moved on over to the zero gravity chair to sort out the matter of:
"Egad! Have I become a local with nothing left to say?"
Thanks for stopping by
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