Saturday, June 30, 2012

Brave: Such a Disappointment

Pixar, I am disappointed in you. Not mad, just disappointed. Though we all know that the latter is always much worse, especially when spoken by parents to their children. Here is why Brave was such a disappointment:
1) The preview was misleading- it looked like a fun film with strong visual feasts for the eyes and a plot injected with subtle jokes for the adults as seen in Finding Nemo and Shrek. Well, I guess Pixar strayed a bit too far from the Ogre hole (or tavern, or cave- not sure what term he uses for his abode) when they decided to give this cinematic disaster a shot. First of all, at NO point of the preview were bears mentioned, and yet they were the raw material for everything that happened in Brave. May as well have called the film The Jungle Book in Scotland or just Bear, since one word titles or way-too-many-word titles are more popular than the Hunger Games books (which ironically are reasonable with the amount of words in their titles. Maybe the crazy cases just apply to film titles).

2) That's too much, too much!! I wanted to shout that at the screen while gesturing to stop as the writers tried desperately to shove the amount of stories found in an epic novel into a 93 minute movie. I get it, it's Scottish. But this film is a kid's movie, not a history lesson. There a heck of a lot of history to the country to try and shove into a short kid's movie which is supposed to be light hearted. You can't just interject here and toss in another plot line there and expect the audience to be able to follow it. I have seldom felt more confused- I can't imagine how the little kids felt. Maybe they just focused on the pretty scenery (the movie's one redeeming quality).

Friday, June 29, 2012

To Feel My Pillow Beneath my Weary Head

...was a greatly welcomed comfort after forcing myself to remain awake for over 24 hours straight. Even more welcome after the sheer hell that I went through to get back into the United States. I almost had to throw in the towel on all my life plans and settle down in Toronto, since it was there that I almost was not allowed to leave. It was all thanks to a misunderstanding caused by my dear buddies at Orbitz. For those of you who do not recall the previous hell they put me through, you can scroll back to an older blogpost entitled "RyanOrbitz" which shall catch you up on this.

Air Canada quickly moved over to my bad list- that is, the list of airlines with whom I will never soar the skies again if I can help it. Oh Air Canada, how hath thou offendeth me? Let me count the ways:

1) Flight Delay with No Updates- I am generally a punctual young lady. I was promptly seated at the departure gate indicated on my boarding pass one hour before the boarding time, which was one hour before the flight was scheduled to leave. I relaxed, caught up on the latest news with my beloved NPR iPad app, read a bit of a novel, and then glanced at my watch. It indicated 10 minutes until boarding. Therefore, I had one last bathroom run, during which I marvelled once more at the baffling fact that airport bathroom stalls open inwards, making it extremely difficult to get your bags in the loo with you. I parted with the infamous European toilets with their low water levels making them appear to be clogged at all times, and with the environmentally-friendly hand dryers which ironically do not dry your hands. Then, I was back in my seat and ready to go. Boarding time was 9:45, and that time came. And then it went. 10 minutes passed... 20.... 30... at this point, all of the passengers were desperately craning their necks to see the screen for any updates. None were made. No announcements on the PA, no carrier pigeous, no 1920s children shouting "extra! Extra! Air Canada flight delayed!". Nothing. 40 minutes pass....50.... finally, a barely audible voice rings over the PA "Air Canada flight 895- all passengers can board now". Of course, this announcement caused a mad rush of all passengers to the gate. No hope of an organized boarding process, as is typical in much of Europe.

2) A Plane that Amelia Earheart would Laugh At- seriously, the thing seemed straight out of the early days of aviation. For a flight lasting over 7 hours, you pretty much count on those little personal, back-of-seat TVs. But no. We were "fortunate" enough to have one of those projector screens commonly found in elementary school classrooms, on which John Carter was projected so out-of-focus that you felt a visit to the eye doctor needed to immediately follow. Basically, I read an entire novel on the flight and talked to my seat neighbor about the Irish economic woes.

3) Customer Service Representatives whose Previous Credits include the Witches in Macbeth- double, double, toil and... you're not getting back into the states unless you buy another ticket. That is the last thing someone who has 20 minutes to make her connection and has already paid 1500 dollars wants to hear. Actually it is something that makes tears well up behind ones eyes as all hope trickles out of a situation. Fine, there was a bit of melodrama in that last statement. But after having gone through such hell with Orbitz and being assured by their moronic staff of customer service representatives that everything was stellar and I needn't worry, maybe it's a justified melodrama. After disembarking the plane, I booked it full speed to the Air Canada counter to print my boarding pass. The lady glared at me since I clearly interrupted her oh-so-important task of picking at her nails. How dare I make her do her job! Sheesh. She nonchalantly informed me, without even looking me in the eye, that I currently did not have a ticket on that flight, and that Orbitz had exchanged the ticket. She then told me it was not her problem and to speak with United, since perhaps Orbitz reissued a new ticket through their airline. I ran over to the United representative who immediately became Glinda the good witch in my eyes- a complete juxtaposition to the evil Macbeth witch in Canada counter-ville. She helped me try to figure out what happened, and gave a detailed account of everything to me to show to evil Macbeth lady. However, when she glanced up from her nail-picking, she looked like a deer in the headlights and decided at that exact moment to take her break. All hope was lost that I would make my flight back to Denver now. The next evil Macbeth witch was a sassy, African-American woman who treated me like a piece of vermin attempting to writhe my way into her life. I explained, in complete detail, my situation. "Honey (what kind of bee makes irony-infused honey found in her tone?), you think I'm just gonna GIVE you a ticket into the US??" I looked at her, mouth literally agape. "No. I PAID for a ticket," I said angrily, pointing to my confirmation on the Orbitz print-out. She hardly even glanced at it. "You can't just get on a flight for FREE" she oh-so-insightfully informed me and then followed that with an even more assuring "there is nothing I can do for you." She almost made me cry. Thankfully, Glinda came floating back in her pink little orb and brought me some ruby slippers (metaphorical ones- they symbolize a window seat ticket on the last flight from Toronto to Denver for the day. She even ASKED me what shade of slippers- did I want a window seat or an aisle?) so I could click them together and get back home and out of the evil Oz of the Macbeth Witches (film and literature intermingling happens occasionally on my blog, sorry).

Then I went to watch Italy kick butt at soccer, and couldn't help noticing how much the German teams' coach is a clone of Tom Cruise. Maybe their loss was some sort of foreshadow to Tom Cruise losing his wife. One loses the prospect of his team winning the European Cup, one lost his "love" who was finally able to escape... I mean.... she left him for mutual disagreements...

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Leaving Madrid- June 24

Unfortunately for all of you reading these, you can no longer expect chronology. Whilst abroad, only occasionally did I have internet, so I collected a great deal of snip-its that I wrote on my iPad during the times when I was connected, and I will be posting them now in no particular order, but will try to include the date on which they were originally written to avoid confusion.

My lack of sleep, mainly attributed to the drum-like sounds produced by the hotel patrons inhabiting the room directly above us, is currently contributing to my delerious state as I write this. Presently seated at gate D60 in the Madrid Barajas airport, I am almost two hours early and thus almost completely alone. Even my excitement brewing from the knowledge that I will soon be in Ireland once more can hardly keep my eyelids from giving in to gravity. Strange as it may sound, I am ready to part with Spain. For physical and psychological reasons, I was never fully able to acclimate to the Spanish schedule and lifestyle. Waking up at 11, going to bed at 2 and physically exerting myself throughout the day did not fare well for me. Combine that with my inability to express myself as I would like to in Spanish and it is not shocking that I am ready to leave even after only 10 days. I suppose, however, that 10 days is a decent amount of time for a vacation.

My family in Toledo and Madrid treated us well as always. Perhaps too well, at times- I started to feel guilty when so much worry stemmed from my vegetarianism. This was especially the case at my second cousin's wedding reception where not one of the six courses served during dinner was suitable for a non-carnivoirous diet. My relatives were so concerned on my behalf that they specially requested a veggie platter. My eyes grew wide upon seeing what the waiter brought out for me. It was a smorgasbord of grilled veggies that could have fed an entire table. Of course, I appreciated their kindess and made that known, but was unable to fill my limited somach cavity with so many vegetables.

Everyone raved about the dinner served at the reception. My mother claimed it was easily one of the best meals she had ever eaten, and I do not deny the sincerity of this statement. The attendees were already insisting that no more food would fit into their stomachs even before entering the building. From the time the guests began to arrive, elegantly-clad waiters brought out tray after tray of kebabs, sushi, shrimp, octopus skewers and more. One server specifically dedicated his time to carving an Iberian ham hock of the highest quality which immediately caused a line to form at his station. At another table nearby, a waiter served paella from a massive pan.

Once seated, five more courses were brought out sequentially, and each in itself was a work of art at which Monet would have marvelled. The first couse consisted of a Spanish soup similar to gazpacho. Upon its completion, a plate of swordfish accompanied by asparagus wrapped elegantly with a strip of meat was placed before the guests. Next came a melon sorbet to cleanse the palate, and then the piece de resistance, a steak filet with au gratin potatoes. Finally came the most beautiful course of all- a dessert plate boasting a miniature flan, a chocolate mousse pyramid oozing white chocolate, a shot glass overflowing with donut flavored cream, and a dollop of whipped cream topped with a cherry. Everyone was forcing the last bites of dessert down their throats and there was still one more course to come- coffee accompanied by chocolate truffles, petit fours and after dinner liquor.

Back to the USA

I erroneously assumed that after about 5 nights of shoddy nights of sleep, my body would be able to overcome all obstacles and pass out for one entire night. Boy, was I wrong. I have never erred so seriously in the past in my choice of hostels. Well, perhaps in Rome where I ignored horrible ratings for the Sun Moon hostel and booked it anyway, resulting in a room with no hot water or electricity. The hostel guilty of depriving me of yet another restful night was Abraham hostel by O'Connell street in Dublin. It was situated in a part of the city which provoked me to clutch my bag close and continuously look behind me- I was paranoid and afraid even during the day to be there. Upon returning at night during one of Ireland's infamous downpours after the Spain soccer game, it was exponentially worse. I made it home unscathed, however, but soon found my sleeping conditions insufferable. The bed was located right next to a window parallel to an extremely busy road, and every passing vehicle made any hope I had of sleeping dissipate immediately. I ended up leaving for the airport an hour before I needed to just because I couldn't send being in that godforsaken hostel any longer. Despite my unfortunate hostel experiences and meeting some questionable characters, my heart is breaking again now that it comes time to leave my beloved emerald isle. Thankfully, the last two nights were filled with the company of charming locals as opposed to creepy drunkards. Traveling alone has taught me more about Ireland, myself, and humanity in general. I am, however, more than ready to get back to a normal eating and sleeping schedule, and to stop living out of a suitcase for a bit.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Burren and Moher

Riding a massive bus down winding and narrow country roads causes me to be nervous enough. When the bus driver happens to be texting while driving after drinking a pint at one of our stops, I begin t fear for my life. I guess that is just the Irish way of life, however, and I made it back to Galway alive. The tour was quite enjoyable. Having done the bus tour of the Connemara area my past two visits to Ireland, I decided to change things up and tour the Burren and see the jagged Cliffs of Moher. En route to the cliffs, we had the option to stop at either an Irish family farm to take a guided walk through the Burren hills and hear about life on an Irish farm. Or, we could go to see a cave. I vouched for the first option, as the bus driver informed us that when you see one cave you have seen them all, and I have already seen a cave. I was pleased with the outcome of my decision. The young farm hand who led us around was interesting and engaging, and I learned a lot about the agricultural industry these days n Ireland as well as a lot about the rocky Burren landscape who's signature limestone hills formed over 350 million years ago. After the farm, we headed to the cliffs and were considered lucky for getting even 5 minutes of visibility. Apparently, 9 times out of 10 the fog is so dense that you can hardly see a thing.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

La Madre Tierra

At first, I thought that hipster vegetarian restaurants could only be found in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Boulder, and other similar cities in the United States. It turns out I was wrong. One of the most uppity of all the uppity vrgetarian restaurants is right here in modest Toledo, Spain. When I studied here two years ago, my friends and I walked past the restaurant La Madre Tierra many times. We, or at least I, always wondered how it stayed afloat since nearly every table in the establishment was empty. This was the case no matter what time of day we passed by. That does not seem to have changed since I was here last. When I say that La Madre Tierra had a snooty atmosphere, I am not exaggerating in the slightest. Immediately upon stepping through the doors, we were greeted with a stronger smell of incense than you'd find in a stoner's house. The soundtrack provided for our listening pleasure was composed entirely of Enya songs. Everything from the walls to the placemats to the waiter's skin-tight jeans (which left very little to the imagination) were the same shade of melon orange. The aforementioned waiter left us unattended to a far greater degree than should ever be acceptable, even in Europe. When he did find the time to stop by, he seemed extremely put out. Despite these "quirks", however, I must admit that the food was fantastic. I ordered the lasagna with soy cheese, my father had the veggie burger, and after being informed that we each had to order an entree (my mother and I had originally intended to share the lasagna), my mother ordered the salad. The quality of the food almost made up for the 45 minutes that we had to wait for it.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Final Day in Madrid

You know the pickpocketing situation is bad when the city government erects signs alerting tourists to keep their purses metaphorically super-glued to their sides. Though I certainly took this advice to heart, I felt that more eyes were drawn to me because of the way I was clutching my purse while walking down Madrid's less tourist-inhabited areas. After paying La Plaza Mayor a visit and dining nearby (which is never a good idea- when you elect to eat too close to tourist attractions, the food is less tasty and authentic and more expensive), my parents took the metro back to the hotel and I once again chose to put the ol' legs to use. I sincerely feel that strolling through lesser-known parts of cities frequented by tourists is the best way to see the good, the bad and the ugly. And I certainly did.

The "good" included the smiles donned by elderly couples strolling arm in arm down a side street, the families laughing and dining at restaurants and the friendly greeting I received from a coffee shop employee who enthusiastically introduced himself and asked where I was from. The "bad" and the "ugly" can be lumped into the same category- the massive number of "for sale" and "for rent" signs adorning apartments, abandoned buildings smeared with graffiti and the scent of garbage wafting out of uncleaned gutters. But this is the case for any city, and it is no surprise that Madrid is experiencing more issues attributed to their economic woes.

Today is our last in Madrid. Tomorrow, we are off to Toledo where upon arrival, memories tucked within the deep crevasses of my mind will come careening back to my cerebral main stage. It has been two years since I spent a semester becoming intimately acquainted with the narrow, cobblestone streets of Toledo. I wonder if anything has changed...

Monday, June 18, 2012

A Lovely Dia Madrileno!

I do not want to complain incessantly on this blog. So, I'm not going to. I just figured that it was in the best interest of my readers to warn them about the dangers of staying at this hotel. I mean, parts of the ceiling are falling! Those who stay here not only risk their comfort level, but their lives! Ok- perhaps that is a slight exaggeration...

Today I went for a run beneath a canopy of clouds, gazed upon the works of Spain's master painters in El Museo del Prado, feasted with friends and family at a vegetarian restaurant, took a stroll through an upscale neighborhood, and conversed with a friendly bartender. To brandish off a lovely day, we got to see Spain win the soccer game against Croatia.

Tourists tend to embrace the slower Spanish lifestyle, and today we did just that. After snoozing until 10, we casually strolled around until happening upon a little cafe offering breakfast deals of cafe or cafe con leche and a variety of pastries or toast with tomato or jam to accompany your selected beverage. Since the majority of Spaniards sleep later than those pertaining to other parts of the world, they tend to skip breakfast altogether or simply eat a meal similar to ours. En route to the hotel, we popped into a market to pick up a few necessities.

After our run, my friend Jordan met us at our hotel and we took the metro to the part of Madrid in which el Museo del Prado is situated. Also situated there is a scrumptious vegetarian restaurant which offered a menu del dia with a variety of options for a three course lunch. I started my meal with a salad, chowed down a carrot and pumpkin tart as a main course, and polished it off with a vegan apple cake for dessert. Once our bellies were full, Jordan took his leave as he had a prior engagement. My parents and I then headed for the museum to visit our friends Goya and Reubens among others. Since I still possess a student ID, I got in for free which was a nice surprise.

After the Prado, we strolled through part of el Parque de Retiro, which resembles New York's Central Park. My parents then headed back to the hotel by metro, and I decided to walk back in order to stretch my legs a bit and explore Madrid. The smell of perfume emanating from upscale clothing stores enticed my nose to enter, but my empty wallet persuaded me otherwise.

It is bedtime now, but expect more tomorrow!

NH Hotel Complaint- Part Two!

I know you have all been left in horrible suspense sitting on the edge of your seats waiting to hear what happened next in the hotel experience. Well, we should have known that something was amiss upon returning to the room to find that the maids had not only failed to leave new mini shampoos, soaps and toilet paper rolls, but had actually taken away what had remained, thus provoking yet another call to reception. Things worsened when later in the day, the phone rang in our room and at the other end was a receptionist asking what time we were going to evacuate the room as a different individual with the last name "Mostek" was expected soon. The mentality of the hotel employee here is far outside the realm of reason. Perhaps it would be understandable if our last name were "Smith" or something equally common. After many failed attempts at resolving the miscommunications on the parts of both parties, things seemed resolved for the time being. My father explained that the "other" Mosteks were in fact, non-existent, and that we had reserved the room until Wednesday. This morning, a large chunk of wood panel clearly not secured properly to its intended location above the window came careening down- likely a mishap that the management will try to charge us for. I contend that it was intentionally loosened to "take care of" the horrible, high-maintenance Americans staying in the room. The Spanish police would inquire what happened to be informed that it was simply an unfortunate accident. We will see how the rest of this stay plays out, but I am truly concerned for my safety at this point. Who knows what other "accidents" lurk about the room...



Sunday, June 17, 2012

You Get What You Pay For

There is a lot of advice that I can share with my readers about Spain. But one of the most important warnings I have is the following: do not stay at the NH Prisma in Madrid. There's a saying which is tossed in my direction whenever I complain about hostels I stay in- you get what you pay for. But when I am with my parents, who paid a significant sum for our lodging, you expect decent service at least. Yet for the first few nights, things went from bad to worse. As the accommodation is for three, the room situation is as follows: a room with a king bed (to be specific, two twin beds pushed together) and a sofa bed in the main room. After the first night, we wanted to return the sofa bed to it's original sofa state, but we could not find the cushions. Upon calling reception to learn their whereabouts, we were informed that since we requested that it be a bed we were not allowed to return it to its original sitting function. It turned out that they locked the cushions away in a closet in our room. So, to watch tv our options were lay on the bed and likely fall asleep, or sit on the one uncomfortable, modern style chair. We were permitted to sit in that one since sitting was the only function it could provide. How lucky. The other issue with the seating situation was that there was one chair for three people. I'm not sure what they wanted to do- sit in each others laps perhaps- but we asked for another chair nonetheless. The one they brought put the other to shame- it resembled one of those chairs in an office conference room. In cheap hostels, Internet is free. However, you try to stay in a decent hotel, and it somehow costs 10 euro every 24 hours PER computer. After attempting to use the provided Internet code on multiple machines it turned out that this was a downright lie, as my father and I were both able to connect. For whatever reason, Internet use was free for half an hour if you were willing to go down to the lobby and sit amid the chilling ambiance created by the glares of constantly angry receptionists. Stand by to hear more oh so pleasant stories of how we were told by reception that we needed to vacate our room to allow the "other Mostek family" who had reserved it to move in.

La Piteria- Posibilidades Para Todos

It somehow occurred that on our first day in Madrid, we came across one of the best restaurants I have encountered not just in Spain, but in Europe in general. First, a disclaimer: La Piteria is not typical Spanish food. For the kind of Spanish culinary experience that would make don Quixote proud, one must sit at a bar or outside table, and order a beer or wine to drink and tapas for the group to munch on. Generally, these tapas include a variety of meats and cheeses typical to the city you are visiting. Therefore, the experience of eating in a restaurant which would not seem out of place in the United States is not, as I previously mentioned, typical. A menu including vegetarian food was enough to provoke a sigh of relief as i had expected that vegetarianism would prove an impossibility on the Iberian peninsula. Better yet was my reaction when the food arrived and produced such a savory culinary sensation on my palate. Flavors from a variety of spices from around the world intermingle in stuffed pitas, freshly made pastas, and a selection of salads. Carnivores fail to be disappointed, as all of these meals have options containing meats. The first time we visited the restaurant, I ordered pasta with mushrooms and asparagus, and the second time a pita filled with corn, rice, curry, pineapple, lettuce and tomato. Both dishes were phenomenal. All meals are served with a little appetizer of bread with a homemade tomato dipping sauce to whet your palate. The service at la Piteria is fantastic- my family and I were on the verge of earning the title "regulars" as we ate there twice in three days. On our first visit, we were served by a kind older man who didn't mind in the slightest taking time to speak with us and share information about himself and learn a bit about us. On our second visit, it was a Filipina woman whose eyes lit up upon hearing that my mother once lived in her native country. She even was kind enough to deduct our dessert from the bill.

The Stains in Spain

Blame it on the economy, for it is almost certainly the culprit responsible for reducing the amount of street and sidewalk cleaning in Madrid. When I was here two years ago, men and women yielding hoses and washing away the days' residue frequented all parts of the city. Now, it is not so.

Aside from millions of people, Madrid is home to a plethora of pigeons and an increasing number of terriers constantly accompanying their owners. A large percentage of Madrid's population are young people meandering along the streets during the wee hours of the night in a place where public restrooms are scarce. Madrid citizens walk the aforementioned dogs up and down the sidewalks thanks to a lack of enough parks. I'm sure this is something that you all love to consider, but where do you think everyone is, to put it eloquently, taking care of their business? I think that question answers itself. Just some nice food for thought.

Speaking of food, (nice segway, Marisa) I have been pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to not only be vegetarian, but vegan. Even in the short span of two years that I have been extracted from this country, the ease at finding food suited for more diverse dietary lifestyles has increased tenfold. The slightest breeze could have knocked me over when I saw that "leche de almendras" (almond milk) was available at the hotel breakfast as well as soy milk.

Anyhow, I am off to lunch, more updates to come!

Friday, June 15, 2012

And the Journey Begins...

I see plenty of laptop users here in the Starbucks in the Newark international airport which is an indication that there are plenty of people willing to hunker down and pay for the wifi. I, however, am not one or the aforementioned individuals, thus I am currently storing away my newly formed thoughts into the Evernote iPad app until a later time. If I don't, there is a good chance that they will be lost forever when replaced by thoughts that out date them. 

Boarding my flight to Newark almost induced an aneurism or a panic attack as I was in the last boarding group meaning by the time they got to lowly ol' me, they had run out of overhead bin space. Upon informing me that I would have to check my carry on, I responded with a declaration that if they were to throw my bag onto the conveyor, I would be accompanying it. They took pity and allowed my bag to fly in the practically empty first class bins. I felt like jack on the titanic as I was greeted with judgmental stares from the first class royalty for daring to traipse on their turf, though briefly. I felt more accepted upon reentry into 'steerage', and envious that my bag got to fly first class while I sat in the horrifically angled United coach seats. Seriously, only when those seats are put all the way back are they in an anatomically acceptable position.

The flight to Spain was incident free. My satisfaction was far exceeded with the vegan meal that I requested prior to flying. First of all, I was served before everybody else, much to the dismay of my seat neighbors. Second of all, it was high quality vegan food! A quinoa salad, a tasty curry dish complimented with basmati rice, a roll with margarine and the best part of all, a vegan chocolate chip cookie! 

I finally got to see an episode of Game of Thrones which has been recommended to me on multiple occasions, and all that happened was I ended up confused since the only episode available was one from season 2 and it is one of those shows you need to follow chronologically. 

Upon arriving in Spain, I was greeted by resurfacing memories around every corner. The route of the metro came fleeting back into my mind almost instantly. One memory which I had suppressed, however, was the lack of escalators not only in Spain, but in Europe altogether. It is not too pleasant getting off of an international flight and lugging a bag up too many stairs to count.


Thursday, June 14, 2012

When you spend too much time with crochety old ladies...

First of all, let me forewarn you- if you are planning to see Bernie and are not familiar with the true story on which it is based, you may not want to read this post. I do not want to provoke my readers to form an angry mob which will be provoked to form a pitchfork and torch bearing mob to show up at my doorstep because I spoiled a movie plot for them. So, consider yourselves warned. Maybe I should make you all sign a waiver. Anyways, as I was saying before my disclaimer which interrupted myself, if you spend time with crotchety old ladies, you will likely shoot one with an Armadillo gun.
Don't worry- if you see the movie, you will understand what's that means. Prior to screening the film, all I knew about this Jack Black flick was just that- Jack Black was in it. I had also pursued some reviews and saw that it fared better than many others that I could choose to spend 8.75 to see. Considering that I was completely in the dark as to what to expect and was clueless as to the true story of Bernie Tiede in Carthage, Texas, I was pleasantly surprised. Bernie is entertaining, induces the audience to laugh out loud, and shares a provoking and true human interest story with a wider range of people. All of the acting was fantastic, especially Jack Black in the lead role. For a quick summary, Bernie is about a Carthage citizen who was one of those jolly, charming people that everyone likes. He was an assistant funeral director, active in his parish, and a much-needed friend to those whose husbands had died. One lady with whom he spent a good deal of time after losing his husband led Bernie to his demise. Though he seemed like a completely stable person, her cruelty eventually provoked him to lose his sanity and kill her. Yet the audience still feels like they are on his side because we were never on hers.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Ye Olde Continuation

The Renaissance Festival is truly successful in extracting the inner child from every visitor. I couldn't count the number of grown women dressed as fairies adorned with floral crowns and glitter, nor the number of people of all ages partaking in the jousting ride. Whether you are collecting action figures or social security, a trip to Larkspur during a summer weekend will be an unforgettable one.

The food was the only disappointment for me, but it was nothing other than what ought to be expected of festival food. As described in my previous post, that included putting everything on a stick and dunking it in a deep "fryer" (not to be confused with Friar). However, I assumed I was safe from clogging my arteries when I selected the portabella mushroom sandwhich. WRONG assumption, Marisa. That thing was swimming in grease like a toddler in the deep end of a pool. Nasty.

One highlight of the day (among many) was the series of jousts. Due to a few late risers in our group, we arrived too late to see part one. However, parts two and three were easy enough to follow on their own. In part two, Sir William and Sir Rodrick partake in some friendly jousting which goes sour when Rodrick decides to cheat. This pisses off William to no end, thus he decides the only way to make up for Rodrick's slap in the face to chivalry is to have a joust to the death at the end of the day. A sort of medieval form of "to be continued". The third and final joust, was the icing on the cake, and even incorporated some elements of pop culture from the movie Avengers. It was a hilarious and subtle injection of comedy into the theatrics and much to the audience's liking.



I left covered in the dust of Larspur and a bit of a sunburn on a patch of skin that was somehow deprived during my sunscreen application which I had thought was meticulous. Yet the smile on my face and the memories incurred cancel out dusty and sunburned any day.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Ye Olde Blogge Poste

I learned today at the Renaissance Festival just how poorly versed I am in old English. My best defense to combat my lack of knowledge was to add "ye olde" in front of everything. It would have been substantially easier if I were writing in old English, in which case you simply have to spell things in ways that do not make any sense to us 21st century folk. For example, spelling "shop" like "shoppe" and "fried" like "fryed". The fact that I would have any need at all to spell "fried" in a Renaissance context seems a bit strange. Yet with ye olde fryed pickles, fryed macaroni and cheese on a stick and sweet potato fryes (did they even have sweet potatoes back then?) intermigling with steak on a stake and frozen cheesecake on a stick (hm yes, very much from the Renaissance), it seemed to be the most common word appearing on ye olde shoppe signs.

Aside from my inability to use old English, I also managed to piss off PETA. Well, they would be pissed if they knew about my doings today. How, you may ask? Let me count the ways...

1) I rode an elephant- I believe that using any animal as a mode of transportation at all is frowned upon by these animal loving extremists, and perhaps the fact that an elephant is somewhat exotic makes it worse. I am not too on the up and up with PETA's opinions on which, if any animal is ok to ride and which are the least acceptable to use in lieu of cars.

2) I rode a camel- I think that using two animals as modes of transportation in one day qualifies as some sort of mega offense in the eyes of PETA. Come on, think of all the gas I kept out of the atmosphere while riding those animals!

3) I observed a show featuring a leopard, an ocelot, a black leopard, a leopard cub and a white tiger performing on stage. PETA would probably send out a group of assassins to take me down while I sleep if they found out that I witnessed that and even enjoyed seeing those lovely cats.

In the defense of the festival, I can attest that the animals were all treated kindly. There were elephants who would take shifts giving rides and then get a shift to rest. They were given hay the entire time they were in the arena.

The camels had the same situation. One resting while one took a short shift giving rides.

I did feel pretty bad for the cats. Their trainer essentially treated them like house pets and they just did not seem to have the best enclosure area going on...

PART TWO of Renaissance Fair 2012 recap to appear in a fort night! And by that I mean most likely tomorrow...

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Whiny Citizens Need a Nanny State

Wah, wah, wah. Americans are always whining like little children. And, who does one hire to take care of whiny children? A nanny. So, perhaps the nickname of "The Nanny State" for New York is fitting and well-deserved by her whiny citizens who are, clearly, acting like children. Wah, we can't have our 44 ounce sodas in movie theaters and restaurants! Boo hoo. I guess it is easier for me to say than for others since I grew up in a soda-free household, so I have never once in my life desired the stuff (thank you, Mom and Dad). But even for those who do crave a refreshing Coke every now and then, I cannot think of a single circumstance where 44 ounces of it would be a necessity.

I think Americans complaining about mayor Bloomberg's proposal to ban the sale of sugary beverages more than 16 ounces in certain venues need to take a step back and look at the current status of our nation's overall health. Obesity is just getting worse and starting in younger and younger kids. So instead of saying that this regulation is a horrendous idea, I think that Bloomberg should be congratulated for taking a step in the right direction and attempting to get his state to wield a weapon and start combating obestity and diabetes. I say, GO BLOOMBERG!

If you don't want a nanny, then don't act like a child. It is as simple as that.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Cameron Diaz's Biceps and a Messy Story Line

These two elements essentially sum up the movie What to Expect When You're Expecting. I am not sure what my expectations were of yet another film based on a book that has no story. Previous offenders include He's Just Not That Into You. The case with Expecting, however, differs in that the plot fell flat on its face with hardly any redeeming qualities.

The trailer did exactly what it was supposed to and made me want to see the movie. I learned during the screening that every funny moment was contained in this minute-long teaser (because in all honesty that is about the length of time that the compiled comedic moments made up). The movie follows the paths of multiple couples who are all planning on becoming parents either by adoption or natural means. Every single one of these couples irritated me in one or more ways.

Cameron Diaz's character was hard to follow less so because her personality had no positive qualities and more because of Diaz's current physical appearance. A bi-product of holding the title "Derek Jeter's girlfriend" (and therefore workout buddy), her overly-toned body now is borderline to the point of screaming "I'm on steroids". Her new body builder look completely overshadowed her character's story and provided far too much distraction- like, theres a baby in there??

Worse yet were the completely unnecessary characters played by Anna Kendrick and Chace Crawford. I truly wracked my brain in hopes of an idea to surface informing me why their couple was necessary. I came up dry. I guess if their purpose was to annoy me and the audience incessantly, then goal achieved. Here's the gist of their sub-plot: girl and guy who once liked each other in highschool had some sort of uninteresting falling out. They both went into the culinary industry and have those trucks that serve unique foods along busy pedestrain areas. At one point the pretty boy makes his move and of course little miss Kendrick wound up little miss preggers.

More on my movie bashing  later!

Blue Lawn Chair

Apparently, I care about lawn chairs. I’ve always known that I typically give inanimate objects personalities and feelings. The “As-is” sect...