Lake
Express is a Winner
“Sorry for the delay, but we only allow trailers up to 8 feet long on the
ship,” the Captain said to me, as he tried to clear the way for passengers to
drive their vehicles off the Lake Express Ferry.
He and several crewmembers had been trying for about 15 minutes to get a truck and trailer off the center of the boat and onto Michigan dry land.
“This trailer is 8’6” and this delay is going to cost the company about a thousand dollars.” He added.
“Why didn’t they measure it before it loaded on?” I asked.
“ I was told they did, but apparently they didn’t do a good job.” The Captain answered. Another five minutes and the truck and motorcycle trailer were off and the rest of us followed.
Interesting, as people waited not one horn was blown in irritation. People just waited patiently until the matter was cleared up.
I was returning to Michigan from Milwaukee of Lake Express, a company apparently is not hurting from the economy for the only time available for me was 6 AM or 7 PM. The midday trip was, as mine turned out to be, booked solid. The day before had been the same.
The two and a half hour trip across Lake Michigan from Milwaukee, Wis. to Muskegon, Mi. had been a smooth trip despite 3 to 4 foot waters that seemed to toss the boat around, It was kind like rocking a baby to sleep, which come to think of it, happened to me as I slept about an hour during the crossing. That was a lot more comfortable then the stress filled driving through the Chicago area would have been.
The Lake Express Ferry celebrated its 6th year of providing ferry service from Michigan to Milwaukee and back for cars, motorcycles and bikes.
As far as the service provided. . .it’s excellent and at today’s gas prices to relax while somebody else does the driving is the way to go. If I were smart, I would have taken the Lake Express Ferry both ways instead of driving the one way from Detroit to Milwaukee. The problem was when I wanted to go, I didn’t give Lake Express enough warning to get a place on the boat, so book your reservation early, in fact the earlier the better.
Lake Express operates from the first of May through the end of October.
On the Internet go to:
lake-Express.com or call 866-914-1010
for your reservation.
Jerry Stanecki
Impromptu act brings rewards and pleasure
©2005 Jerry
Stanecki
How many times have you wanted to make an impromptu move, but
didn’t because you were afraid? How many
times have you made excuses for taking care of yourself? Or, allowed
procrastination to stop you from enjoying life.
What happens when you don’t
buy into “ Maybe another time?” Read on.
How easily the smell of the
sea washes away the snows of winter, is what came to mind, as I lay under deep
blue
Amazingly, it had been just
seven days since I woke in
“Oh, no, “ I said to the
cats, who, staring out the window, I’m sure shared the same distressing
discontent.
Two choices, I thought.
Find a rope to sling over the branch of the
giant oak tree out back, or— sure, why not?
I reached for the phone and called
Julie Davis, a friend of my daughter Anastasia. Julie lives in
Was it possible to book a
cruise during high season on a Tuesday and be at sea by Saturday, I asked
Julie?
“I can try,” Julie said.
“Why don’t you take Annie? You’d pay the
same as a single.”
“I
don’t know,” I said. “She’s got to find a new place to live in LA, move, lock
down another film to work on, and needs---“
“If I know Annie, “ Julie chuckled, “she’ll
make it all happen.”
“See
what you can do, but don’t tell Annie.”
A few
hours later, Julie called again.
“Diamond
Princess, a new ship, the biggest of the line just sent through a flash sale
for today only.” Julie bubbled. “And,
the price is terrific.”
The
escape gods were with me. I immediately began to procrastinate.
“There’s
one room left, inside stateroom. Not what you wanted but…”
“Can
you put a hold on it while I call the airline to see if I can use miles?”
“Done.”
The
procrastination continued for all of five minutes before I decided to live for
today.
Four
days later my daughter and I stood on the top deck of the Diamond Princess
saying “Bon Voyage” to
“That
was the quickest, most effortless check-in for a cruise I’ve ever experienced,”
I said to my daughter. “I’m impressed.”
“I
couldn’t believe no line, ”Annie said. “And, a full ship.”
It
was the first example of— without exception— excellent service.
The
inside stateroom was compact. Twin beds, built-in desk and mirrors on both
walls to help with size. The problem was, it was not the picture of the cabin I
booked. That one had a chair and small area to sit.
Via
cell, Julie told me to check with the purser and see if there was a possibly
for an upgrade to outside cabin if there were no-shows.
Nigel
Stewart, the passenger service director, who really runs the entire ship,
pleasantly told me that he was sorry for the misunderstanding and would let me
know if any one missed sailing.
As it
turned out, the gods of escape were still with me. Several people did miss the
ship, and we were given another stateroom with balcony and small sitting area.
Clearly it was another sign that my flee to
sanity from dreary weather was the right move.
“Dad?”
Annie said, breaking my thoughts,
“Yes.”
“You
OK?”
“Better,”
I said, rolling over in the
-0-
The Diamond Princess commissioned in 2004, carries 2670
passengers and a crew of 1,000. Four swimming pools, Spa, Internet Café, Casino
and a real treat, you can choose where you want to dine in four differently
themed restaurants. (There’s no fee.)
Or, enjoy the main dining room with two servings nightly. I recommend this
ship and crew highly. www.princess.com
LA Bound, here’s a tip on a swell hotels
“There’s a
small hotel,”— just like the lyrics
of the song, this LA hotel tucked away in a
Leparc Suites
I settled into a
lounge chair poolside at Le Parc when I noticed an atypical looking couple
sitting at a table near the pool. Strange, I thought, bikers are not generally
into boutique hotels. The man looked
like he’d been rode hard and
put to bed wet. Long, stringy dirty blond hair with a face that had the look of
a bad remod job after a lot of hard years of living with finishing touches by a
Mack truck.
The blonde buxom
woman sitting with him was attractive and tough looking. I mean, she looked
like she could handle her own if attacked by three guys.
The next morning, I happened
to be standing at the desk when they showed up to check out. He was dressed in black and had on some
serious shit kicker cowboy boots, Indian brackets, shades and leather vest. I
flashed on Paladin, remember him, the gun for hire from the old television
series, “Have gun will travel?” She was dressed similar.
“Heading
for the office?” I said to him.
“Yeah,
another day,” he rasped in what can
be described as a whiskey-aged voice.
What? Who were they?
Why, it was “Dog” and his wife—Mrs.
Dog? The duo is the latest addition to the A&E Channel. They are real life
bounty hunters and were on the promotion circuit pushing a show that premiered
the following week.
Another time the elevator
opened and five very beautiful women, heavy with English accents, got on. It was a perfect time to be wearing my
Speedo. Kidding.
The girls are a
Oh, and there was another “Brit”
there. A blonde haired fellow whose entire head was bandaged. Apparently, he’d
holed up at LeParc while having a bit of extreme plastic surgery retreading
done.
LeParc is a cool hotel near
the action, but far enough away for privacy.
Kitchenettes make it comfortable for light lunch, breakfast in, or just
a cup of coffee in the evening, perhaps sitting in front of the gas fireplace.
It’s a place where a lot of entertainers—albeit a sub A list stay.
Not far from the famous Sunset strip, Le Park
offers a roof top pool, tennis court and large suite like rooms with
kitchenettes.
A drawback in the rooms is too much
furniture, but it’s
quiet. The very pleasant out-to-please
staff is excellent at serving the needs of guests, celeb’s and non-celebrities alike.
The hotel is a short walk to
LeParc, is clean, comfortable
and entertaining. Suites run in the neighborhood of $150 and up. I recommend it.
tel 310 855 8888
fax 310 659 7812
reservationsleparcsuites.com
A visit to the Queen Mary 2 leads
to a compelling journey
©2004 Jerry Stanecki
What’s this, I thought pulling the envelope from the mailbox. It was so big, it was, well. . . regal.
“Pamela Conover, President of Cunard Line Limited requests the pleasure of your company on board Queen Mary 2—The greatest Ocean Liner of Our time.”
The Queen, the newest ship from Cunard, a company in the business of transatlantic crossings since the early 1840s. Would I like to join them for a pre-inaugural cruise? Is the Pope a Catholic?
I told my daughter Anastasia. “That’s terrific, are you going?”
“Yes, I’m excited about it.”
“All the publicity on the Queen Mary 2 reminds me of the movie Titanic,” Annie said.
“Thanks, “I
replied dryly. “Besides I don’t think we’ll run into any icebergs off of
A month
later, I’m standing on a Port Everglades dock looking up, my neck bent back as
far as it will go as I stare at a ship as tall as a 23-story building. The Grand Lobby, a two-story affair topped by
a six story open atrium has a huge metal wall piece depicting the Queen at
sea. QM2 has it all, and some—Canyon
Ranch spa, a casino,
We leave port and the giant ship,
1,132 feet long with 17 decks, cuts through the water effortlessly. Suddenly,
the night sky is afire with fireworks and music against a fading
The following day, I wander into a news conference. Commodore Ronald Warwick, the distinguished looking master of the ship, dressed in white from head to toe with a finely trimmed full beard says something that catches my ear.
“There’s an infinity in the sprit of the crew that comprise us,” he said.
Hmm, I thought, greatness of spirit that goes into making a complete whole. Is it possible that a thing, like a ship, could have a soul? We know spirit makes up the soul. So, does the spirit of 1250 crewmembers bring about the realization that humility and good intentions of the heart does indeed bring about a power greater than each?
Is the Queen Mary 2 destined to become a community of goodness and well-beings?
Pam Conover, a lovely woman, told me later that day that, yes, she does indeed believe the spirit makes up the soul of the ship. Strange to hear a corporate president talking like this, I thought, but refreshing, especially for those of you who look forward to enjoying a journey on the Queen.
Later, watching a planetarium presentation, the announcer tells of how the andromeda, and earth universes, are headed on a collision coarse that will lead to them slamming into each other in a billion years or so. Maybe, maybe not, I mull as these two universes whirl like seductive dancers on the screen above my head. It’s reassuring, I feel, that there is a force holding it all together. Not just our universe, but throughout the entire dance of a zillion stars and planets as they wildly weave their way through space and time.
Out there, beyond the stars, in deep, deep darkness, I know, is a power greater than any phenomenon we can imagine or understand. A power that reassuringly keeps the harmony and rhythmic melody of all, in perfect tune.
Thank you Pamela, for your kind invitation to more than just a new ship.
*
To order Jerry’s
latest book, Life is a Joke and God Wrote it! ($19.50 includes tax &
S & H-—
Small,
intimate, luxurious and comfortable. You have it your at the Wedgewood
©Jerry Stanecki
Wedgewood. For years when I heard wedgewood, I thought of china, crystal or the color, like in Wedgewood blue. Today when I hear wedgewood, I immediately think Vancouver, B.C. and one of the finest and most comfortable little hotels you could hope to find.
In the very
heart of a fascinating city on
Privately owned and operated by Greek-born Eleni Skalbania, the folks at Wedgewood like to say the hotel combines comfort, class and service, service, service. Ah, I don’t know if they really say service three times, but that’s what I say because the attention to your needs and wants can only be defined as impeccable. Indeed, the service is so flawless it’s beyond any criticism. From owner to housekeeping, the staff cannot do enough for you. That, my friends, is as they say down south, “livin’ in tall cotton.”
If you’ve
never experienced a great European hotel, you can live the dream by a quick
trip to
Fresh flowers, original works of art, antiques add to the overall plush. And, for cocktails and dining it’s the Bacchus dining room just across from check-in.
Bacchus, in classical mythology, was the god of wine and was worshiped with orgiastic and ecstatic rites. Dinner was good, but I didn’t see anybody running naked through the restaurant shouting, “Bacchus is alive, Bacchus is alive.” Oh, well, perhaps another night.
What’s terrific about the Wedgewood is if you fine it almost full occupancy, don’t fret because from a regular executive room to the penthouse suite with terrace, the accommodations in this house are luxuriously superb. You’ll be comfortable in any room.
Now, for
the good part. Late afternoon of each day you suddenly a whiff of something so
seductive that it brings mountains of warm memories. Cookies, like mom used to
make, are prepared and baked in house each and every day, then placed in every
room. As they say in
My daddy
always said when you’re serving the public; one of the most important things is
location, location, and location. When in
From spa to Frette Egyptian cotton bathrobes, to 24 hour room service, to the uniformed doorman, The Wedgwood Hotel highly recommended for your comfort is a place where you can absolutely have it your way. And, when you get there, please give my best to all.
info@wedgewoodhotel.com Free Canada/USA 800-663-0666
Art in Every
Room
Whether your traveling between
Los Angeles and San Francisco or just looking to hang out for the weekend,
there’s a place in mid-California, you should know about.
The Masterpiece Motel is a
nice combination of beds and beauties.
The walls are covered with
art, as are the rooms and you can take your pick of rooms and art as long as
the rooms are available.
Friendly people who make you
feel comfortable and welcome run the Masterpiece. The rooms are large and beds
comfortable and each room is advertised “Every Room a Work of Art.”
The only drawback is no
elevator, only steps to climb, so if you’re in a wheelchair, forget about the
Masterpiece.
A wine and cheese spread, as
well as continental breakfast is laid out daily compliments of the management.
A nice touch to a comfortable
and reasonably priced place.
Masterpiece Motel
1-800-527-6782
A journey to the ridge brings many
pleasant memories
©2003 Jerry Stanecki
I opened the screen door, walked
into the room and stopped. Suddenly, I
felt myself slipping into another time and place. It was like walking into a
1940’s cabin in the woods. The feeling was that quick, that intimate, that
pleasant.
Windemere
Cottage is built partly on stilts, nestled among huge ferns. It’s one of
several different rooms/suites at Inverness Ridge.
Windemere
Cottage is the kind of place you’d see in an old 1940’s movie as the
comfortable personal hideaway where Jimmy Stewart goes to escape from the
madness of
The
website for Inverness Ridge is one of the neatest sites I’ve seen. www.invernessridge.com is a very
cleaver presentation that immediately sets a mood for what can be yours, if you
follow.
Innkeeper
Laura Holland is an interesting and very pleasant young woman who is very
excited about pleasing her guests. She and her husband purchased the inn a few
years ago and starting putting heart, soul and greenbacks into the place.
A
combination of French country and old continent appointments in a room filled
with books is how Laura pays tribute to Gertrude Stein. The room is called
Gertrude’s Atelier. With a little imagination, you can see Gertrude sitting in
the side aside a garden overlooking the hills and
Is
Inverness Ridge convenient?
You
bet it is. If you suddenly want to drive into the city for dinner, that’s
Standing
on the porch of the Windemere Cottage you inhale the freshness of Pacific Ocean
air, and realize that you are among the first to do so, before it continues
it’s journey across the
Watch
the fog roll across the valley as cattle graze.
When
you’re ready to go exploring, this is a wonderful place to do it. You are just
minutes from Point Reyes National Seashore, a spiritual place, and a place of
renewal. The sun warms you and the smell of the sea clears the fog in your head
as you hike the 1.6-mile Divide Meadow trail.
Stopping. you stand where the earth split in 1906, causing the worst
earthquake in
Hike
the Palomarin Trail along the ocean as deer crisscross in front of you. It’s
almost 12 miles one way and during the right time of years you’ll see migrating
Gray whales, Tule elk and Black-crowned night herons. Slow down, look around. Take several deep
breaths and be grateful for the wonderful gift of the moment. The slower you
go, the more alive the universe around you becomes.
If
you walk the beach check tide tables before hand to avoid being stranded.
Respect the signs telling of heavy surf and treacherous currents and enjoy the edge
it gives you. When you grow weary, a
perfect ending to hike waits for Windemere Cottage when you snuggle up on the
window loveseat with a good book. It only takes a page or two to send you to
dreamland.
Inverness
Ridge is a warm and comfortable place to visit alone, or together. Friendly, quite charming hosts top off your
visit. There are five unique experiences
in lodging here, and a perfect place to return to, each time staying in a
different room.
Inverness Ridge, cottages and lodging
— (415) 717-8551
info@invernessridge.com
www.invernessridge.com
_______________________________________________________________
It’s
not easy eliminating those rent-free negatives in life
©2002 Jerry Stanecki
Hurling
through space and time, the Lufthansa jet lifts from the
Quite suddenly, I’m whisked away to
the magnificence of Monument Valley, Utah, as scattered clouds jut up,
silhouetted against the beginning of day. The clouds look like monuments, just
as it did as the sun rose over the valley in
Witnessing the beginning of another day, I realize I can paint any picture I want. Good, bad, bright, dark, happy or one of stress and unpleasantness. What this day would be was my choice.
Thank you God for the journey that’s brought me to this belief.
In a heartbeat, I flash back an hour. It was
in the lounge of Lufthansa business class in
“Excuse me, is that seat available?” I asked.
A man mumbled something that sounded like “Yes.” On the small round table in front of the vacant chair was an empty coffee cup. With my free hand, I picked it up and was going to take it to the dirty dish tray.
“Would you mind?” the voice had an unfriendly edge. “That’s my cup.”
“ Oh, I was just going to clear it for you,” I said pleasantly, giving the guy another chance.
“I can lift my own cup,” he said sarcastically.
Old picture options flashed in my mind.
Should I drop the cup and say, “Oh, how clumsy of me?” Should I grab him by the thro—you get the idea. Instead, I simply told him:
“ I will not subject myself to such an obnoxious person so early in the morning. Life would be miserable being you.”
Ten minutes later, I caught myself still allowing this idiot to live in my life rent-free. Now, an hour later, I was still giving the jerk my happiness. I decided to shift to a new picture.
The sun helped as it made its first appearance sending golden rays through the Jet’s window.
“Excuse me, sir.” The accent is German. It’s the flight attendant.
“May we offer you breakfast?”
“Please,” I said.
The tray is loaded with seasonal fresh fruit— slices of pink and white grapefruit and a slice of orange and one big, plump grape. The fruit was accompanied by a scoop of Greek yogurt.
This is living, I thought, and glanced back at the jerk. You know who. “Hey,” I shout in my mind. “Stop!”
A selection of chilled breakfast specialties helped me shift: Prosciutto ham, bell peppers with slices of Kassen and Manouri cheese. Clutch you chest heart smart eaters.
The entrée came. Scrambled eggs blended into a crepe pancake with ham and cheese and Ratatouille on the side
Yes sir, I love air miles that upgrade you to business class. Especially on extended flights.
The meal was wonderful, the
service? Perhaps American carriers ought to have their employees trained by
Lufthansa. This was my third flight on Lufthansa and it just kept getting
better. As we landed in
-0-
You can reach Jerry at www.jerrystanecki.com. Or write him at
Banff’s a nice place, but Lake Louise is closer to heaven
©2003 Jerry Stanecki
Step outside into the cool of night and look into the darkness. Now, take a deep breath. . .another. That, my friends, is pure mountain air. Feel yourself start to come down, relax; this is what life is all about.
There! Did you see it, a shooting star blazing across the night sky? Ten zillion lights twinkle and directly overhead the Milky Way galaxy pours through the center of your view.
Welcome to
I say almost paradise, because the folks in this community with the wisdom of Job have held down massive development of resorts, spas and tourist attractions. It’s a community that’s small, friendly and peaceful.
Turn off
Trans Canada #1 onto
As you
cross the bridge over the river on
Welcome to the POST HOTEL. It’s a rare treat when I can recommend a hotel and/or restaurant and feel completely at ease about what you will experience when you travel to the recommended site.
The POST HOTEL and award-winning restaurant are like winning a double jackpot at once. Staying there is indeed, a rare treat. Summer or winter, spring, fall, you won’t fine a better place for solitude, beauty, adventure and culinary pampering. Quite simply, THE POST is one of the finest hotels I’ve stayed in.
There’s two big factors going for it, Andre’ and George Schwarz. No, no, I don’t mean they’re big, I mean the Swiss brothers bring to Lake Louise the absolute best in making a hotel as comfortable as your home.
An impeccably trained staff, from general manager to housekeeping, backs the brothers; this team is 100% professional and a most pleasant group of folks. Each member of the staff I visited with from top management to housekeeping, all seem to really enjoy what they do.
Quite a few of the young people are from Switzerland, who journey here for a year or two—some 20—to learn the mastery of inn keeping at THE POST. The employees are trained by the best, enjoy sensational skiing in winter, hiking and biking in summer. I’d guess, it’s kind of like dying and going to heaven.
Walking down the stairs from the second floor one day, I noticed a wall light and wondered why there were no cobwebs on it. It was indicative of the way the Schwarz brothers keep the place. In fact, a former employee of THE POST told me that he’s seen staff use toothbrushes to scrub the bathrooms. Trust me, you’ve never seen a cleaner hotel.
Terrific rooms, indoors swimming pool, fireside lounge, great for meetings; especially you want to eat great.
THE POST is
a few miles from
****
800-661-1586
_______________________________________________________________
“You go to
You come to
Photos
& story ©2003 Jerry Stanecki
Walking down the winding
hand-laid drive of native Peloponnesian stone, the stone warms my bare feet. In the stillness of a new day, I wander
through dancing butterflies way too busy to be bothered. Silver–dollar-size
humming birds buzz up and down, in and out of the colorful flowers. Wondering
if the little hummer's are giant Greek bumblebees, a closer look brings a quick
peak at the long beak.
This is Villa Jenna Marie, a few
kilometers down a winding seaside road just south of
But, before I tell you more—allow me to explain how this journey began.
Sitting in a window booth at
Jimmy’s New Parthenon Restaurant in
“Come to
‘”Gee, I’d like to, but…” I said, starting to make an excuse. But, for some reason caught myself, thinking that life doesn’t get longer and one doesn’t get younger.
“When?”
“ I go for six weeks soon; come anytime. “
Before you could say “Opa,” I was
making plans to fly to
The plan was to spend a couple of days in Athens, see the Acropolis and other sights then met Jimmy and drive to Messini, the town where he was born.
Tommy, another Greek friend, picked
me up at
“There is no “Opa” in
“What?” I said. “The waiter doesn’t bring ouzo
soaked cheese, light it on fire and scream, ‘Opa?’”
“No, Opa,” Tommy repeated flatly.
“What! Why?”
“Because they don’t know about it here.”
“No!” I said.
“Yes.”
“So, Opa is just something the Greeks made up to sell cheese in
“That’s right,” Tommy said chuckling.
INTO THE FUTURE
This is
In February 2002,
In all of the madness of
Sadly, an era is passing.
Greeks confuse me. They are people who literally spend hours sitting, talking and eating. A more laid back people is hard to find. After a meal, Greeks walk slowly, almost drifting, all the time lazily twirling their worry beads. Each afternoon shops close from 2 or 3 till 6 so owners and workers can—what else—eat, talk and rest.
What confuses me is the insane spell that comes over a Greek when they get behind the wheel of a motorized vehicle, Men, woman, children—hell if Greek dogs and cats could drive they too would become an absolute maniac. Greeks are mind-boggling incorrigible drivers.
Stop signs? Poof! Greeks only stop if another vehicle is less then 10 feet from them. If that other car is of equal size, its blow your horn, cut ‘em off and go.
A complete stop? Ho, ho. The closest thing to that in Athens is a rolling almost stop that comes only if a bus, or a huge red Mercedes truck, is about to permanently put your lights out.
Double lane, no passing zone? Hah! To a Greek that means blow the horn and go like hell when you see any miniscule opening.
Double lane no passing zone on curves? Blow the horn and go, go, go. Speed limit? Radar patrolled? Caution? Hahahahaha. Blow the horn.
I didn’t rent a brilliant yellow
car because I liked the color. I haven’t
seen this kind of insane driving since the last time I was in northern
It is absolutely clear to me, that every Greek man, woman and child comes into this world with one indelible inherent deep, deep fear. That fear is that when their time comes, they will go to Greek hell. That’s a place where vehicles have no horns.
*
The first day in
“Attention, Attention,” a raspy, scratchy, whiskey barrel voice tormented through the open bedroom window. The sound was being amplified through the worst, most annoying, aggravating tinny sounding loud speaker ever manufactured by man.
Politician, I thought.
Walking downstairs, I asked Tommy what was that racket about, adding that I’d like to fire a shot across their bow.
“No, no. no.” Tommy said lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone. “Those are Gypsies, you no wanna’ mess with ‘em. They’ll steal your underwear while you’re wearing it, and then cut your throat.”
So, added to the chaos of the traffic, are
loud grating gypsy commercials heard throughout
*
NEXT STOP HOMETOWN
Friday night Jimmy, his sister and
five of his pals gathered for dinner. Dinner in
Sitting comfortably under the
awnings of a waterfront restaurant in the
There’s lots of wine, lots of Coca-Cola, (Greeks mix Coke with wine) lots of Greek salad, bread and lots of different small fishes followed by a main course. There is lots of lots—too much. No question, these people know how to eat.
The conversation shifts to mostly Greek losing me. Killing time, I’m throwing chunks of bread to the fish to stay awake. The live fish in the harbor, waiting for their turn to be dinner on the table, push the bread around the surface. It 's like water bugs skating.
It’s now quarter past midnight—dessert
time and by the size of the crowd in all of the restaurants it could have been
8PM in
The next
day, under a broken cloud Grecian sky, Jimmy and I head southwest toward
Messini taking the new highway. We cross the Gefire Isthmou or
The canal, an astonishing engineering feat was completed in 1893 after the Greeks talked about it for centuries.
Nearing
Mycenae, Jimmy explains that the ruins on the mountaintop I spot is the 13th
century stronghold of Achaean kings—kings like the infamous Agamemnon, said to
be the most powerful king in all of Greece at the time of the Trojan War.
We drive
through
CAREFUL HOW YOU SAY IT
In a little under three hours we arrive in Messini, Jimmy’s birthplace. He drives past his father’s long-gone olive factory and shows me the exterior of the house he was raised in. People shout “Kalispera,” when they see Jimmy’s Jeep. Once around the town square and we pull up in front of The Chef Restaurant, Jimmy’s hangout, where he visits with boyhood friends.
“Kalispera, Jimmy,” a muscular mustachioed man says smiling.
Jimmy returns the greeting and introduces me to his cousin, George and the food and drink comes.
“When I come home,” Jimmy says holding a glass filled with wine to the light, “ all the wine I drink is only homemade.”
The afternoon slips into evening
and, as we start to say good-bye, I figure I’ll show my respect and say
something in Greek. With Tommy’s help
back in
Getting up to leave, I look at cousin George, smile, pat him on the back and say,
“Stokalow.”
George’s
smile instantly turns to an angry frown. The waitress looks shocked, starts
giggling and covers her face with her hand.
Jimmy bursts out laughing.
“What?” I say.
“You better stick to English,” Jimmy tells me— still laughing.
“Why? All I said was have a good day.”
“No, actually what you said to George was ‘Up yours’” like in “Shove it---“ he doesn’t finish. George is laughing now and pats me on the back.
Red faced, I climb into the Jeep.
*
We drive
out for about 30 minutes with Jimmy still chuckling. Just south of the seaside
Jimmy unlocks the ornamental gate and we unload the car. Inside, he gives me a brief tour of the villa and announces it’s time for any good Greek to take a nap.
Too geeked to sleep, I walk the beach.
An hour or so later, we sit on the
porch sipping coffee, eating Greek cookies, watching the day fade. The first
star breaks, it’s the evening star of the west; I feel more settled because this
very star, I see from the deck of my home in
It’s an early dinner at Olympic Restaurant where “English is spoken.”
The owner’s son, Peter, has lived in
“The Greeks have a saying,” Jimmy says
finishing a mouthful of octopus. “You go to
*
CELEBRATE THE DAY
The morning is quiet, sitting here, sipping coffee watching the sun move higher; I realize how peaceful it is, and I am.
The sounds of the sea—a half a dozen
colors of blue and green sing a lullaby so soft it soothes the soul. Cotton candy clouds lay across the mountains
of Mani across the
Sitting here is hypnotic.
“Kalimera,” Jimmy says breaking the spell. “After coffee, we fish.”
Fishing
means snorkeling with spear guns. We are out to get the days lunch and octopus
is at the top of the hit list.
For over an hour we search
in vain for the elusive octopus.
“It must be something in the
tide’s, Jimmy mumbles, as we climb aboard his bright yellow jet boat moored
about 20 yards from shore.
“Forget the octopus,” he
says, “ Let’s go for a ride.”
“I’ll swim in and get the
boat keys,” I tell him.
“That’s beautiful,” he
responds sitting down on the boat.
About
10 yards from shore, I spot something foreboding in the water below me.
“Hey
Jimmy, there’s an eel below.”
He
shakes his head no.
“What
do you mean no? It’s a big eel.”
“No,” he shouts, “That’s a
sea snake, the only poisonous thing around. Where’s your spear gun?”
“By
your feet.”
“Good place,” he laughs
loudly.
I smile—life is good, very
good. . .in fact it doesn’t get any better.
*
Later, cousin George joins
us for a 4 o’clock lunch on the porch, Greek salad, quails, bread, homemade
vino and Greek french-fries (the best I’ve ever tasted because they’re done in
olive oil instead of vegetable oil.)
Jimmy again becomes the
teacher explaining that the meat of the sea snake is delicious, but that he
doesn’t attempt to shoot one unless he’s with someone.
“They’ll chase you if you
wound them,” Jimmy tells me. George grunts agreement.
Lunch
ends and Jimmy announces that any good Greek would do just one thing now, and
he does it. Jimmy laughs as he closes
his bedroom door. It is time for rest.
R O A D T R
I P
It’s
another sunny day and we’re headed for ancient Messini. Dust chases behind a car on a dirt side road
to our right as we approach the ruins.
Built about 370 B.C. Messini was an effort to block the power of
Arriving at the Arcadian Way
Gate, a half mile from the ruins, we find workmen continuing to preserve the
site.
Standing among the ruins of
Messini surrounded by olive trees, I look up to see another village. From the
distance it looks new. It is, in fact,
very old. . . a village born out of the ruins.
A soft breeze whistles
through the marble pillars and abandoned stone scattered on the ground. The
sound is almost that of an ancient melody. Amazingly, part of the ancient
city’s water carrier remains. It’s a rounded trough cut in stone, not unlike a
bowling alley gutter. Water from the
mountains and springs ran throughout the city.
Jimmy sits, gazing out over
the ruins. It’s as though he is seeing through past centuries.
A
In new Messini, folks are
preparing for the
Each September, the priests
begin the walk down the mountain at 1:00 a.m., carrying the icon many miles to
Messini. The procession, growing as villagers along the way join in, arrives in
Messini about mid morning. With musicians playing solemn music, the icon is
carried through town. As it passes the old Bishop blesses the people. The procession winds through town and ends at
the church, where candles are lighted and respects are offered for nine days.
*
INTO EACH LIFE RAIN MUST FALL
The
usual hypnotic rhythm of the sea is far from a gentle lullaby this morning. The
rains came last evening. Even though it was not hard rain, with it came heavy
seas.
Slowly at first, deceptively, the dance began. By
twilight the sea became more and more frenzied. Somewhere out there, beyond the
horizon, perhaps near Africa, deep in the bowels of the
Sometime before midnight,
the fury of the wild sea snapped the metal bracket and thick rope holding
Jimmy’s jet boat to it’s mooring. Like a
toy, the sea threw the sleek yellow racing hull into the waiting rocks of the
cliff.
Just after midnight, I’d
searched the darkness for the brightness of the yellow boat. In minutes, I
spotted it trapped against the jagged rocks. Each wave battering at the body of
the $22,000 ski boat.
At
dawn it is torn and battered. Floating
like a fishing bobber, a large chunk of her topside bounces up and down in the
water
I
go back to bed.
By
seven, under dark clouds, the boat is gone.
The
scene on the beach is frightening. It’s as if an airliner had crashed at sea
and debris washed ashore. Life vests float aimlessly in a large tide pool.
Chunks of fiberglass, foam padding and the skeleton of the seats are scattered
across the wet sand.
Jimmy stares at the ruins,
and the rhythm of the sea continues its song that never ceases.
LESSONS IN LIFE
Driving
south from the villa along a narrow road, I spot a side road almost hidden between
two ancient buildings. Looking like a
road less traveled; I turn onto it and start a climb into the clouds, to end at
the top of a mountain in the southern most part of
Entering a village not on any
map, I come upon ancient stone and mud houses lining a road wide enough for
only one car. Turning a corner, I am in front of the only store in the village.
An old woman sits on a rickety chair in front of the door.
A
huge grapevine covers the one-story building. With a trunk as thick as a big
man’s thigh the vines cover the roof almost hiding the Coca-Cola sign. Deep purple bunches of grapes hang above our
heads.
“Kalispera,” (Good evening) I say, and
smile.
“Kalispera,” she replies, returning my
smile.
Reaching into a cooler the likes of which I
haven’t seen since I was a kid, I take a Coke and notice another woman standing
behind a dusty cooler in the back of the single room. Lined up on a shelf behind her are
dust-covered bottles of Ouzo and other spirits.
“Yassus,” I say. She answers with the
same hello.
The Coke and a bottle of
water cost ninety cents.
She
follows me outside to where the other woman has now been joined by an old man
with a cane. She gestures to an empty chair and I sit. I drink, she smiles and
the storeowner says something. She too smiles.
I smile back.
I
point to the grapes above and give them a thumbs up sign, they all respond with
something said in Greek and more smiles. We are communicating.
I
grab my digital camera and take a picture of the three. As the picture fades
in, watching like kids at their first circus, the brightest smiles appear on
all three faces. Their smiles light the
darkness of the overcast day.
They are amazed; they are delighted . . .we have become friends.
· * * *
_______________________________________________________________
Finding the Spirit in the valley
Monuments
By Jerry Stanecki ©2001
“Ready?”
asked Lorenz Holiday, our Navajo guide.
“All set,” said my long time friend
John Manis as we all piled out of the Jeep and to stare at Mitchell Butte, a monument
in one of the most dramatic places in America today.
It was my second visit to
It would take hours for us to reach
the top of the thousand-foot-high monument, which meant about a 20,000-foot
zigzag climb.
As we started climbing, I felt pain
in my chest—which is not necessarily encouraging for someone who has had five
bypasses. It’s actually tricky at times, because you always wonder is this—as
Fred Sandford always said—“The big one or just gas?”
We stopped at the base of Mitchell,
about 200 feet from the car. John looked at me in a strange way.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
‘Yeah, I’m fine except for the chest
pain,”
“Want to turn back?” John said,
concerned.
“No, I’m thinking like a sore
muscle, the pain will work itself out as we climb. Does that make any sense?”
John, a doctor, looked at me like it
was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.
“That’s the dumbest thing, I’ve ever
heard,” he said.
“Lets just keep moving a bit and see
what happens,” I said, thinking, “What the heck, if something happens, I had a
doctor with me.” Besides, John has been my trusted friend, who I could always
count on without fail in any situation.
‘I’m not gonna’ carry you out,” my
Tonto said.
We all laughed and resumed climbing.
* * *
We had arrived the day before in an
almost blinding sandstorm, one that made sandstorms in movies look like a
little dust in the wind. It was incredible; the day had actually been darkened
by the winds that had been blowing the desert sands from one state to another
for days.
Our plan was to explore the historic
valley, shoot some photos and hike for a couple of days, soaking up the essence
and spirit of the sacred land.
We
headquartered at Gouldings Lodge, a place of rest and nourishment established
long before John Wayne starred in “Stagecoach,” “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,” and
a dozen other western movies shot here.
* * *
It was in the spring of 1921, a
young pioneer named Harry Goulding rode west from
In those days the land was owned by
the Paiute Indians and adjoined the Navajo Reservation. As luck would have it,
in 1923, the State of
Harry
and his new wife Leone, who Harry nicknamed “Mike” plunked down $320 for one
square mile of the valley.
Years passed, tents became buildings
as Mike and Harry became friendly with all around. Well, almost all around. At
first there was friction between the Goulding’s and the Navajo’s, but Harry and
Mike held their ground, all 640 acres, and managed to earn the respect, then
friendship of the Navajo’s. It became a trusted, lasting friendship.
It was the mid-1930s, as the people
of
Old Harry must have been a smooth
talker because he convinced John Ford, the famous movie director to come and
shoot movies in the valley.
Ford
found the valley perfect for his shoot’em-up Westerns, and brought out his pal,
a tall young rugged actor named John Wayne.
The movie people built houses, corrals and
sets—some of which are still stand today You can walk on the very dirt the
“Duke” walked on inside his house in “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.”
In
no time cameras started cranking on the movie “Stagecoach” and, the rest
partner, is. . .well, you know.
* *
About half
way to the top of Mitchell, on one of our many rest breaks, I asked Lorenz
about a hole we spotted near the top of the mountain. It looked like a cave.
He explained that in the 1950s uranium—a key
ingredient in
Nuclear
power has been mined here and the hole was one of the abandoned mineshafts.
“There is also the what’s left of a
work trailer on top,” Lorenz said.
Sitting
there, drinking water, looking out across the desert for at least 100 miles, I
thought of the dawn and how mysterious and eerie it had been as the winds of
Just
after dawn, I’d come across horses feeding oblivious to the winds and blowing
sand. Beyond the horses were the monuments, mystical in the storm.
“Ready, Jerry?” John asked breaking
the spell.
“Yup.”
·
*
*
As the years passed, so did Harry,
then Mike, but not before they added this and that and built another section of
the hotel. From a distance, Goulding’s blends so well with its environment it
almost disappears into the giant mountain behind it.
It’s a terrific place to stay; every
room has a view of
The original trading post, where Mike and
Harry lived is now a fascinating museum. Go up to the living quarters on the
second floor and walk into the 1930s. Look out through the front window and let
yourself escape to yesteryear. Imagine you are Harry or Mike. It’s a satisfying
and peaceful feeling.
The museum it includes a room with
memorabilia from the movies created in the valley.
Tell them in advance if you’d like
them to set up a guided tour of the valley. They offer half–day and whole-day
trips.
If you want to climb, you’ll have to
hire a native guide. With the guide you also get the benefit of seeing places
public roads don’t go.
·
*
*
We reached the top in just under three hours. It was
stunning, like being on a plateau floating in midair. The top of Mitchell is
maybe 300 feet across and wide—very wide.
We found the remains of the trailer; a few rusted
beyond identification tin cans, and, amazingly, petrified wood. I came across it lying among wild flowers
blooming on the mountain.
Standing there, looking down
a thousand feet and more across this most beautiful of valleys, I felt humble,
very humble—a mere spec in a universe truly beyond the imagination. I was
filled with joy and peace.
-0-
www.gouldings.com
or 435-727-3225 (no toll-free number)
Goulding’s
A National treasure brings
peace in a time of chaos
©2003 Jerry Stanecki
As it so often happens in the darkness of the dawn, from deep in the canyons of my mind, comes the echo’s of peaceful places and good times past. It happened again this morning. This time the memory came with music.
Da dum, da dum, da da de dum, “I know. . .a place. . .that no one knows— it’s Ferrando’s Hideaway,” ba, bomp.
I know, I know, the
song is “Hernando’s Hideaway,” not Ferrando’s and it’s from “Pajama Game,” But,
I’m talking about a wonderful escape to Ferrando’s Hideaway, in Point Reyes
Station, Calif. Doris and Greg Ferrando are two of the nicest, down-home folks
you’ll meet. My friend John Manis introduced us some 20 years ago.
What makes Ferrando’s doubly
terrific is the warmth of Doris and Greg and that Ferrando’s Bed & Breakfast is a short distance from
the incredible Point Reyes National Seashore.
Not an hours drive from
Hike the 1.6-mile Divide Meadow trail, or get really physical and hike the Palomarin Trail along the ocean. It’s almost 12 miles one way and during the right time of years you’ll see migrating Gray whales, Tule elk, wild poppies and Black-crowned night herons. Walk this land and think of how to this day, the land baffles geologists because rocks on this coast match rocks found on Tehachapi Mountains more than 300 miles away.
Slow down, look around. The slower you go, the more alive the universe around you becomes. The warnings to check tide tables before walking beaches to avoid being stranded and the signs telling of heavy surf and treacherous currents add just the touch of danger that stimulants.
After your day of exploring, return to Ferrando's Hideaway. A country garden, flowers and vegetables (organic, of course) surround the luxury cottages. The refrigerator in each is stocked with organic foods and breakfast items. It’s a place of peace and warmth. A place to relax in your private hot tub under the stars.
Greg spent years as a painter—houses and the like. A couple of years ago the phone rang. It was opportunity calling. The voice asked if Greg would he like some old paint.
“Sure,” Greg said, and drove over to pick it up.
“I was stunned because there was loads of paint,” Greg told me. “No, not house paint, but very expensive acrylics—artists acrylics.”
The paints had belonged to Sam Francis, a world famous abstract artist who had lived in Point Reyes until his death.
“I found that I love to paint in the rain and the results are very unusual,” Greg said.
Unusual indeed, and profitable.
Today, Greg’s art sells for thousands of dollars. Several pieces of Greg’s art
hang in
-0-
Contact
Doris Ferrando at 800-337-2636 or www.Ferrando.com
Santa Fe
©2001Jerry Stanecki
Not much has changed since the last
time I was in
There’s the Indian Market, Fiesta, Balloon
Festival and a very special time in
“My shrink
asked me if I had any imaginary friends when I was a kid,”
He is
eccentric, out-going and at times even a bit outrageous. Rand Robert Page—Bob
to his friends—owns and operates Casas de
Sitting on
the terrace at one of the Casas de
“It’s not uncommon for a guest to arrive with a large entourage,” Bob said. “Pilot, nanny, maid and assistant. We cater to the rich and famous and never is a story told of their presence.”
Hmmm. I had arrived sans pilot, maid, assistant and I was driving a rental car. You can bet no story would be told about that.
The smell of pinion pine drifted from the fireplace as the cool of evening slipped over the town. It was magical; perhaps it was that magic that helped pry one story out of Bob who, at-all-times, uses no names.
It seems the wife of a very rich attorney from the West Coast called and demanded a certain property. It had to be large enough so the woman could leave the property without her personal maid seeing her.
“She told me the maid was a spy for the husband,” Bob explained. “The woman referred to the maid as a “viper.” ‘That viper would tell my husband everything she sees,’ the woman said. Then added that her lover was coming and needed private access,” Bob said.”
“Did the woman succeed is deceiving the viper and enjoying the fruits of her labor? I asked.
“Most certainly,” Bob answered.
The sun had
set and the lights of
We were at one of the twenty-four
different homes, condo’s, guesthouses and estate houses that comprise Casas de
This one, unit 10 (you can see at www.casadesantafe.com) is a two story home with three bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen, two full baths, and laundry. A senior vice president of a cruise line —a big believer of plush— owns it.
La Vista
Estate, is a rambling old
There’s another property that goes for $1500 a night.
“It’s 8600 square feet of Old New Mexico
grandeur. There’s 11 fireplaces in that one, I think,” Bob said. “And seven and
a half bathrooms. The man lives there and when we rent the property he goes to
What makes Casas de
If you’re a VIP or return guest, Bob provides an exquisite box of chocolates from a dozen different places in the world. The individually wrapped in foil pieces are presented in a box that would make you think you were getting expensive jewelry from Harry Winston.
“We are
here to meet every and all needs of our clients, who range from doctors to
Bob arrived
here in
“Everybody had business shrinks,” he said. “And of course personal shrinks, It was a very fast pace.”
He got the Max Factor job while doing a stint as a flight attendant. (Like I said, he’s done a lot) The president of Max Factor was on his flight and took a liking to him. By the time they reached their destination, our boy was ready to do some different flying.
He came to
All properties are decorated in the famous
Casas de
Checking in Casas de
** *
Your world doesn’t have to run on schedule
©2002 Jerry
Stanecki
From on the road, in northern
It’d been awhile since we’d visited my
nephew, Dan Nolan, and his wife, Jill, so I called him and suggested get
together for dinner.
“Let me check my schedule,” he said.
“And, the family schedule, and the kids scheduled.”
“Okay, call me when you can . . .
schedule it,” I said.
I called my son, Jason, and told him
about trying to put a dinner together.
“Sure, dad, I’ll have to check the
schedules.”
That’s
when I realized we’re all a little nuts with the pace we travel at. Schedules for schedules . . .not a good
thing.
What
drives our society today? Is everybody
so afraid failure will pop up in his or her life that they go, go, go? I
remember when go-go was a dance and fun. Are we afraid to take time to be still
and feel who and what we are?
Today’s societal demands remind me
of what Susan B. Anthony once said:
“Failure
is impossible. Failure is an attitude. Having an attitude of failure can't help
us. It can only hurt us. If we're not careful, it can grow into a way of life.
So, when we feel like failures, we'd better look at our attitudes.”
Is fear
and failure driving you this day?
Thinking
about all this, I realized that there was too much going in my life and that I
needed to get away. I took action.
Driving north out of
The
universe led me a few miles west of Sebastpol to a five building town called
Graton. There, I learned that one of the area’s best-kept secrets was 3.3 miles
down Graton road.
Deep in a stand of young redwoods, surrounded
by rolling hills of vineyards, is Avalon. It’s a real life dream that’s
becoming a reality . . .and there’s not one schedule in sight.
Hilary
and Gary McCalla are taking a chance.
“We
wanted to build a B&B, so we spent a lot of time looking at different
ideas,” Hilary explained. “A diary farm, an empty warehouse, lots of places.
Then we found this.”
Describing Avalon is easy if you use words
like luxurious, beautiful, peaceful, classy, and homey. It is all of these, and
for a lot of folks, it’s more.
Hilary,
a type-A personality, yet with an easy style, gets an A+ for details. Fine
cotton linens, thick towels, soaps and lotions.
There’s even postage on the postcards.
“I
don’t want more than three rooms, “explained Hilary, a woman of detail. “With
more, I wouldn’t be able to provide the class of service I do, and that’s what
the priority is.”
Providing service in a world lacking
service is, Hilary said, a gift she and Gary give to themselves and they do so
pretty much without hectic schedules.
“People come here when they’re
stressed and leave more peaceful,” said Hilary. That gives a terrific feeling of
satisfaction.
“How about your family, three
different schedules?”
“No, not at all,” Hilary told me.
“Some of my friends get down on me because we don’t have our son in pre-school.
I don’t think pre-school is so good.”
“What about learning to interact?” I
said, playing devils advocate.
“What’s wrong with learning to
interact by playing with kids here and not having to be on a schedule? It’s the
way Gary and I were raised and we turned out pretty good.”
Point made.
I wished them well and good-bye to
the McCalla’s. Let’s see now, where’s my schedule, I thought, laughed and
headed off to where ever I ended up.
Are you ready to “schedule” some
down time?
-0-
Avalon—a
luxury Bed & Breakfast Call toll
free 877-824-0880 or www.avalonluxuryinn.com Just three suites in this fantasy getaway,
Just 3 luxury
suites, excellent breakfast, delightful inn-keepers.
Rates depend
on time of year- $195 to $320.
Jerry
frequently speaks on happiness and life, including lowering stress in the work
world. His book “Life is a Joke and God Wrote it” can ordered through www.jerrystanecki.com or PO Box 121,
Bloomfield Hills, Mi 48303.The total
cost is $19.40.
