Categories
Food and Drink Getting Old Sucks SoCal Life Travel

Halloween Time at Disneyland — for Grown-Ups

This post is a mushy love letter to the folks at Disneyland, whose kind invitation to their annual #Halloween Time Media Day allows me to bask in all my Disney dreams… despite the fact that my child is no longer a little kid. I am living proof that you don’t have to be a kid or have young children to have a good time at a Disney park. You can even be a woman in your 50’s and have a great time there. It’s just that the experience becomes a little different.

#Halloweentime at Disneyland
This giant Jack o’Mickey greets visitors to Disneyland ‘s main park at Halloween Time. And every year, I take its picture.

My sister, Linda, is also a Disneyland devotee. She dropped everything this weekend and drove down here from Sacramento so she could enjoy the Halloween festivities with me.

“I really want to spend some time at California Adventure,” she told me. The last time we visited the Disney parks together, California Adventure was torn up for its $1.1 billion renovation, and she didn’t get to see much of it at all. It’s gorgeous now and better than ever. But she wanted to see that for herself.

As it turned out, the Media Day event included a reception in a “soundstage” on the Hollywood Backlot area of the park, so that was our first stop. On the way, Linda got her first glimpse of what a billion dollars buys you these days.

Buena Vista Street at California Adventure
I took this photo last year, the first time I got to see the new Buena Vista Street entrance to California Adventure.

“This is beautiful,” she said as we wandered down Buena Vista Street, Disney Imagineering’s re-creation of Los Angeles circa 1923, the year a young Walt Disney arrived in Southern California. Buena Vista Street is very similar to the original park’s Main Street: It greets visitors by setting the stage for all the magic that’s to come, with period buildings, shops, restaurants and transportation (in this case, a replica of the old Red Cars, which criss-crossed the region and enabled residents to travel from one end of the city to the other).

Saturday was the final day for high school seniors applying to college to take the SAT, and so it was already past lunch time when we arrived at the Park and once we had checked out the reception, my daughter and her friend went off on their own, promising to check in with me by text every couple of hours. My friend Marsha (who blogs at Sweatpants Mom) joined us in a quest for something good to eat. Our first stop was the Carthay Circle, a restaurant designed to look exactly like the movie theater where Disney’s Snow White premiered in 1939. I remember seeing that theater, and also remember it being torn down in the late 60’s. This is probably the most elegant dining establishment inside either of the Disneyland parks — it is also tough to get a reservation on as busy a day as Saturday (I know — I tried to get one two weeks ago and the only available time for dinner was 4:00 PM).

So I suggested we mosey over to the Wine Country Trattoria, where I’ve always had good luck being seated. I had tried to take my sister here on her ill-fated previous visit to California Adventure, and we simply could not find the entrance behind all the construction. We were ushered to a table right away, and that’s where we made our first California Adventure discovery: There were cocktails on the menu. Now, California Adventure has always differed from the original Disneyland Park by selling wine and beer… but it you wanted a real mojito or martini, you still had to go to one of the hotels or Downtown Disney.

“Do you really have a full bar here?” Marsha asked. Our waitress assured us they did, and in the spirit of “if you build it they will come,” she ordered a margarita with her lunch. I toyed with the idea of having a cocktail and decided I might fare better on a hot afternoon with something a little lighter, so Linda and I each had a glass of white wine. Either way, we decided that feeling free to order a drink was a major benefit of enjoying Disneyland without our kids.

Beverages at Wine Country Trattoria
Yes, when bloggers get together for lunch it is totally normal for them to Instagram their drinks.

With lunch out of the way, it was time to explore the Parks. Our first stop — as always — was Space Mountain, my all-time favorite Disneyland ride, which adds a fiery ghost for Halloween excitement this time of year.  For the few of you reading this who do not know, Space Mountain is a high-speed, high-tech thrill ride — the kind of attraction women our age are thought to avoid. And I will be honest: I am not as hardy as I used to be, especially when it comes to things like motion sickness. That’s one reason why I stay away from the Tower of Terror attraction at California Adventure. I think it’s a great ride — but the only time I tried it, I thought it was going to give me a heart attack. (My daughter, however, loves it and rode it twice on this visit.)

“Uh, maybe this isn’t such a great idea right after lunch,” Linda noted as we climbed into our “rocket.” By that time, it was too late. Thankfully, we made it through the ride with no ill effect, and later rode the California Screamin’ roller coaster, complete with 360-degree loop. What can I say? We may be middle-aged but we’ve still got it.

From there, we journeyed to the other side of the Park, past Frontierland and New Orleans Square to the Haunted Mansion. I was fortunate on a previous Disney excursion to enjoy this ride beside Disney’s Michele Himmelberg, who offered up lots of background on this most appropriate Halloween time attraction. I love how they pay tribute each holiday season to Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas. Michele is the one who told me that the huge cake in the ride’s party scene is made of real gingerbread, baked by the Park’s pastry chef — and each year, he whips up something different. (This year it’s a Skellington-themed Advent Calendar.)

We did a few more rides in both parks and a bit of shopping before we met Marsha back for dinner at Catal’s UVA Bar in Downtown Disney, which is becoming a part of our new Disneyland tradition (this is my third year dining at either Catal restaurant or UVO). And this time, I did opt for an actual cocktail because the menu offerings all sounded yummy. (And they were.)

We finished by watching the spectacular Halloween fireworks show. This is another feature that is all-new every year: The one thing you can expect is that you will walk away saying it was the best fireworks you’ve ever seen.

The Park started to empty out after the fireworks, and we toyed with the idea of getting on at least one more ride. But my daughter and her friend put the kibosh on that plan: We found them sitting on a bench and looking really sleepy. They were tired and wanted to go home.

HAH! Score another one for the middle-aged moms, who were still up for more Disney fun. Then again, by the time we hit the freeway, we realized the girls’ wisdom in exiting when we did. We were tired, too. The Fitbit I wear reported that all in all, we had walked over six miles.

“You know, it really isn’t possible to do all of Disneyland in one day any longer,” my sister remarked.

She’s right. There is so much more to see than there was when we were kids, and the wait times for the “E-ticket” rides seem even longer. I’ve gotten used to leaving the Park still wanting more — which isn’t bad for an attraction that’s thought of as just a children’s place. I guess it just goes to show you that some kids never grow up.

DISCLOSURE: I received four park-hopper tickets from Disney to visit the park during their Family Media Day event, so I could experience this year’s Halloween Time. I was not compensated to do so and all opinions are my own. The print and broadcast media who were also invited don’t have to offer one of these disclosures — just those of us publishing on the Internet.

 

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Food and Drink Travel

Chicago is My Kind of Town

That old Frank Sinatra tune has been playing in my head since I landed at O’Hare Tuesday night — which is not really a bad thing. (It could be worse, right? Like a Justin Bieber ear worm?)

How can you help singing when the view from your hotel window looks like this?

There’s no shame in being a total tourist when visiting a new city, and I had hoped to get some big time sightseeing in yesterday, but that was not to be. Between the MOMocrats’ regularly scheduled Wednesday podcast and my sister’s business dealings, we were unable to meander too far away from our temporary home at the Chicago Sheraton and Towers.

Fortunately, we’re in a prime location, with easy walking to the Magnificent Mile — fabulous shopping and restaurants on Michigan Avenue, not to mention the absolutely gorgeous buildings I was clued in to by friends who have lived here.

My sister had already been here for several days, having attended another convention that concluded just as BlogHer was starting. So she already knew where we were going to have lunch: a trendy, noisy, foodie spot called the Purple Pig.

It was an excellent choice: We each had salads (hers was a classic wedge with slices of heirloom tomatoes; mine a stack of heirloom carrots, shaved fennel and avocado) and split a dish made of fresh peas, mint and bacon. Not quite vegetarian, but light, fresh and delicious.

Of course, as this was the eve of BlogHer, there were plenty of old friends to catch up with in the hotel lobby. On top of that, the hotel held a happy hour event called Sheraton Social Hour: A Taste of Chicago, co-hosted by Wine Spectator magazine. This was basically an all-you-can-drink buffet of truly excellent Oregon and Washington state wines, paired with yummy appetizers.

This had the effect of loosening people up, and even though I’m naturally kind of reticent and shy with crowds of new people, we found ourselves making new blogging friends — which is what this event is all about

Today, I will be learning some new photo and video-making tricks at the BlogHer Viewfinder event. I have always done some form of live blogging here and will likely attempt that again (despite the challenges of my iPad’s virtual keyboard). I’ll keep you posted.


– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Cardiff England Generation Fabulous Travel

A Family of Travelers

Dec. 1991: Upon landing at Heathrow, we took the Tube so I could get my first glimpse of Buckingham Palace before going on to Wales.
Dec. 1991: Upon landing at Heathrow, we took the Tube so I could get my first glimpse of Buckingham Palace before going on to Wales.

I recently became a member of the Generation Fabulous group of midlife bloggers, which runs a monthly bloghop. This month’s topic is “Transformative Travel.”

I rarely went anywhere in my 20s and early 30s. I was too focused then on trying to stay employed in the entertainment industry… and looking for love in all the wrong places.

And then: I finally found it, with someone who was here on a student visa. And a few years later, I found myself on a plane to London so I could meet his family.

It was Christmas, and as a lifelong Californian, I expected to be cold. That frightened me.

“I’m kind of a hothouse flower,” I reminded him.

But you know what? Weather conditions that would keep me indoors here in Los Angeles didn’t phase me in the United Kingdom. OK, there was that one outing on the top of Caerphilly Mountain that brought tears to my eyes that I swore at the time were frozen — but I discovered that I could handle freezing temperatures, rainy weather and cold, blustery wind just fine… so long as I was experiencing them anywhere but California.

Dec. 1991: The Norman Keep and me. At Cardiff Castle.
Dec. 1991: The Norman Keep and me. At Cardiff Castle.

That trip taught me a few other lessons:

  • That my American accent was just as incomprehensible to my future in-laws as theirs was to me.
  • That the United States and Britain are indeed two countries separated by a common language. (Helpful tip: Do not put “salad cream” on your salad — unless you want said salad to taste like cole slaw.)
  • That socialized medicine is a beautiful thing in action. (Both of my husband’s parents ended up in the hospital – for separate ailments – over my two weeks in Britain on that first trip. And the care they received was impressive. With no scary bills to pay.)
  • That I love to travel.

I love seeing new places, trying new foods, learning new histories, taking photographs (prior to that trip, I did not even own a camera). And as the years have passed and we married and became a family, this love is something we shared with our daughter. She made her first trip to meet her British grandparents when she was just four months old and we visited as often as our budget would allow — until the economy crashed. By then, my father-in-law had passed away. We could have saved a lot of money by staying home, but I’m proud that our girl has a relationship with her cousins and wonderful memories of her grandpa.

She has also been to big cities like New York and Paris and natural wonders like Yosemite and Alaska’s Glacier Park. And I know she won’t wait until her mid-thirties to get out of her comfort zone and see the world outside Los Angeles. Because we are a family of travelers.

Read the rest of the BlogHop Entries at Generation Fabulous:

 

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Travel

California Travel: Mendocino

It started in January 2012, when my sister forwarded me a Groupon: $165 for a two-night stay in an ocean view room in Mendocino, plus a bottle of wine.

“This is a great deal,” my sister said. “We should do it.” She did not have to do a lot to talk my husband into it. We bought the Groupon and set about trying to find a date that would work for the four of us. The problem is that the coastal town of Mendocino is a four-hour drive from my sister’s home in the Sacramento area — which is a six-hour drive from our house. This would make it tough to do over a weekend. We needed to identify a school holiday and then arrange for my husband to take a couple of days off work to accommodate the travel time.

We decided on the first weekend of Spring Break. But a funny thing happened on our way up to Sacramento in March of 2012: my niece got home from school feeling sick, and her parents did not feel comfortable leaving her home alone (albeit with her cousin and older siblings). My sister suggested that Gareth and I go alone — but we did not want to do that, either.

So we re-scheduled for the next holiday on the calendar where all the pieces might fall into place for a getaway: Thanksgiving Weekend. But by the time November rolled around, we realized that this was not going to work, either: Linda always hosts a huge dinner with lots of guests, and we were not the only ones coming in from out of town. There was no way to graciously leave town the next day. So we rescheduled again — for Spring Break of this year…

…and once again, we found ourselves unable to make it.

By this time, we had lost the “deal” part of our Groupon: We each had our $165 on account, which we could redeem whenever we actually showed up to stay. We reduced our time from two nights to one at $200 per night. So by the time we actually got in the car and made the drive to Mendocino, we were determined to make sure our money did not go to waste. We were also pretty sure that the staff had started a pool to bet on whether or not we’d actually show up this time.

I was relieved not to be greeted with sarcasm upon check-in. In fact, everyone we met at the Hill House Inn was friendly and pleasant. Our rooms were spacious and clean. The furnishings were a little bit dated (which you can get away with in a historic hotel) and the televisions were older models — but we had free wi-fi, which I really appreciated since my phone didn’t work so well up there.

And as my sister had promised, the town of Mendocino is absolutely charming:

 

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Travel

Our Authentic Selves

My youngest niece graduated from high school last week, and so we packed up our things and drove up to Sacramento to celebrate — just as we did when her older brother and sister reached that milestone.

But this year, we did something different: we stayed a while. My sister and I have been trying to arrange a couples’ trip up to Mendocino for the longest time, but between the restraints of work and school, it’s been hard to coordinate. With the start of summer and all of us in the same place, we were finally able to make that happen.

And as it’s just silly to rush back home so you can get back to work mid-week, we extended our holiday until Friday, and made a pit stop in one of our state’s natural wonders: Yosemite National Park.

It was our first real vacation – not just an extended weekend – in three years.


As you all know, I’m not the outdoors type – but I still found plenty of ways to enjoy the beauty of Yosemite, including a morning art class that had me wielding a paintbrush for the first time since I was a kid. The resulting watercolor wasn’t great – but it didn’t totally suck, either. And I got in touch with a part of myself that’s been dormant for a long, long time.

Yosemite Watercolor
My first attempt at painting in something like 40 years.

In fact, I think just the fact of being on vacation – without the usual workday stress – allowed each of us to be our authentic selves again. You know, the people we were before we became parents and homeowners and had to act like responsible adults. For one week, we were relaxed. For one week, we weren’t bickering with one another. For one week, I felt at peace.

Now that I am back, I am trying to figure out how to hold on to that authentic self I got to meet again while on vacation. I may make some time to do more painting, if only for myself.

And start planning my next vacation. Hopefully, I won’t have to wait as long.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

 

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Travel

Air Travel is an Adventure. And Yesterday on American Airlines, It Was Torture.

Los Angeles International Airport (LAX/KLAX), ...
Los Angeles International Airport (LAX/KLAX), Westchester, Los Angeles, California, USA (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m back from my business travel to Denver.

Barely.

I was one of the unfortunate souls who were supposed to fly yesterday on American Airlines.

I arrived at a terminal that was in chaos:

I was one of the lucky ones. I only had to wait about twenty minutes before the computer system went back online. I checked myself in to my 3:25 pm flight and stood in line to get my back checked.

Unfortunately, the system was busy printing out bag tags for hundreds of other people who had checked in prior to the system outage. And most of those people were on a Dallas-Fort Worth flight that had already been canceled.  People were not happy. I decided that getting angry at the situation would not help.

Air travel these days requires patience, I told myself. And a sense of humor. After what happened in Boston on Monday, I expected security delays at the airports. Boston was a tragedy. This was just a nuisance. I stayed calm.

“Your flight to LAX is still on,” I was assured by the poor ticket clerk who was dealing alone with angry passengers and the backlog of luggage tags.

My own tag eventually spooled out of the printer. He placed it on my bag and instructed me to put it on the belt and I headed downstairs to the TSA checkpoint.

According to my boarding pass, I had just 10 minutes to get to my gate. I wasn’t going to make it. But I figured I wasn’t the only one, so I stayed fairly calm (mostly fixating on the fact that I was hungry and wouldn’t have time to grab any lunch before my flight). By the time I got to the gate, it was 10 minutes past my scheduled flight — which was OK, because it had been delayed until 5:00 (I was trying so hard to get there on time that I didn’t think to stop and check the flight schedule board).

So now, I had time for lunch. Hooray. I bought a sandwich, found a seat near the gate and settled in.

There was a long line of people at my gate. I wondered if there was some kind of additional check-in procedure for this flight. I asked one of the women in the queue. “We’re all trying to reschedule our flight to Dallas from this morning,” she told me.  She had a toddler with her. They were not happy campers. I felt bad for them and grateful that my flight was merely delayed a couple of hours.

Five o’clock came and went. I stayed calm.

At 5:15, the airline announced that our plane had arrived. “We just need to get these passengers off, clean it out and then we’ll get you all to Los Angeles,” they said.

At 6:00 they let us know that they were waiting for one more member of the flight crew to arrive.

I texted my husband and daughter updates on my flight status. My original plan — when I was landing in the middle of rush hour — was to take the Flyaway and get picked up by one of them in Van Nuys around 6:00. Now that I’ll be landing around 8:00, I might be able to get my husband to pick me up at LAX, I thought.

Twenty minutes later, a notification from my Tripcase app flashed on my iPad. It said that my flight was now canceled, but the info board at the gate listed it as going out at 6:30. I got into the line behind the last two remaining Dallas folks — and was in position when American finally announced that my LAX flight was canceled.

“We can get you on a United flight that’s going out at 10:00,” the airline rep said. That meant I wouldn’t get back home until after midnight. Not ideal, but I was happy to take it. By now, all I wanted was to get home. There was just one problem.

“I checked my luggage. Do I need to go somewhere to get it?”

“No, we will move it over to United for you. You just need to check in to your flight over there,” she said. She handed me a meal voucher and my original boarding pass from American. The receipt from my luggage tag was stuck to the back of it. “You’ll need this to get your bag,” she said.

At the United desk, I asked again about my checked luggage. “Is it going to make it on to the plane?” I asked. I was assured that it would.

You know how this story ends, don’t you? The flight to LAX went smoothly and arrived 20 minutes ahead of schedule. I made my way to baggage claim, where a clerk was arranging bags from another flight.

“Are these the ones from Denver?” I asked.

She told me I had to wait.

So I waited.

And waited.

I was nodding off against a column when she called me. “Are you waiting for someone from Denver?” she asked.

I told her I was on the flight from Denver and was waiting for my bag. She shook her head. “I thought you were waiting for a passenger,” she said. “We got all the bags from that flight. We’re done.” She looked at my tag from American.

“Your bag is not lost,” she said.

I was tired. I wanted to cry. “It’s not here, so it kind of is,” I whined.

“The problem is, because the computers were down, your bag never got scanned. It has to be matched with your name manually. It’s probably still with American. You can either make a claim to have it traced here, or go over there to look for it.”

It was now 12:30 in the morning and the last thing I wanted to do was march across LAX to the American terminal. Besides, if I wasn’t able to fly to LAX on my canceled American flight, how could my bag have made it here?

I made the claim at United. “They’ll find your bag and deliver it to your house tomorrow,” she assured me. “And you can trace it on our website here.”

As of this writing, it is nearly lunchtime. And so far, the United website is reporting that “the tracing process is continuing” and I should check back later.

I wish this was the end of my pitiful tale — but it’s not. While I was eating my dinner alone in the United terminal last night, I arranged for Super Shuttle to take me home. The van I ordered did not arrive until nearly 1:00 A.M. And on the ride, I noticed that my battery was running low. I turned the phone off and placed it back in my computer bag. Or so I thought. Because once I was finally home and had access to a charger, I could not find it.

One of the traits I really hate in myself is absent mindedness. It gets worse when I’m tired, as I was last night. I waste a lot of time trying to locate things I’ve misplaced. I spent an hour this morning trying to reach Super Shuttle’s Lost and Found.

So far, my phone is in the same boat as my lost luggage.

At least, I made it home all right. And after I get a little more sleep, my sense of humor may return.

 

 

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Travel

Packing It In


I like to travel. That is, I like getting out of Los Angeles and visiting other places. The problem is the part about “getting out.” Road trips are fun, but it’s hard to find the time to drive longer distances than between here and my sister’s place in Sacramento.

Today, I had to travel to Denver – and that meant taking an airplane.

I am not afraid of flying. I am, however, afraid of becoming one of those travelers from hell who ends up being walked off the plane by the Air Marshals.

Flying these days means subjecting yourself to one indignity after another, beginning with the airlines’ crazy policy of making you pay for the privilege of bringing a suitcase.

I truly admire people who have the knack for packing everything they need into a little carry-on bag. I have friends who were able to do that for a two-week vacation in London – and it was in the winter, when you need the extra heft of warm clothing.

I have never been able to do that. What if we end up dining someplace fancy? Better pack a dress. And heels. What if it’s really hot? What if it rains? What if we do so much walking that my feet blister and I need different shoes?

And now that I’m older, it’s even worse. I can’t leave town without a bag full of creams and makeup and lotions, all of which are too large to fit in a TSA-approved transparent bag. And don’t get me started on how much tougher it is to dress now that I’m getting hot flashes several times a day. The only way to deal with that is layers of clothing. This takes up more room. Especially when you check the weather and discover that it may snow in Denver this weekend.

Snow? I tossed my daughter’s ski jacket into the suitcase. It’s costing me an extra $25 each way, so I may as well fill it to capacity.

And don’t forget the electronics. Twenty years ago, I didn’t fly with anything that needed to be plugged in. Today, I can’t go anywhere without my cellphone, iPad, camera, camcorder, Fitbit…and all the chargers and cables that go with them. I almost brought a laptop, too. I am praying I’m not sorry I left it at home.

But in the end, despite the hassle of packing and the airport and the lines and the waiting… There’s nothing like getting out of town to break yourself out of a rut. And now that I’m here, I’m happy.

Until Tuesday, when I get to do it all over again to get back home.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

 

 

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Food and Drink SoCal Life Travel

Taking a Los Angeles Food Tour: A World of Exotic Cuisines Right Here

Thai Spirit House
Thai Spirit House (Photo credit: socalmom)

I may live in the Valley, but I consider myself an Angeleno. I was born right here in Los Angeles and have always been fascinated by our mythical, colorful, multi-ethnic city. And I jump at any excuse to go over the hill and experience it.

I am also something of a foodie. I love trying new dishes, whether in restaurants or cooking it myself. I am on a lot of travel site mailing lists, and I spend way too much time poring over the restaurant reviews in cities I know I will visit some day. This is why I love the idea of taking a food tour, where you learn about a city’s history from the primal perspective of how its residents EAT. Instead of traipsing through museums and climbing monuments, you stroll through farmers markets, snack on street fare and sample regional cooking in family-owned restaurants.

And you can do all this without leaving LA, as we have an entire world of exotic cuisines right here — along with a handful of tour operators who can give you the inside scoop on where to find them.

Last year, I covered one such tour for CBS Los Angeles. I had so much fun on the Boyle Heights tour that I dragged my husband back to the neighborhood a few weeks later. And he liked it so much that we’ve gone back a couple of times, just to eat and take photos of some of the historic landmarks.

And last month, we embarked on a different tour in a different LA neighborhood, offered by a company called Los Angeles Urban Adventures. Ethnic Neighborhoods Food & Culture takes you on a walking/bus tour through L.A.’s Koreatown, Thai Town and Little Armenia. These neighborhoods are part of my personal history: The hospital where I was born, the approximate site of my parents’ first home, and the office building where my dad worked were all seen during the course of the tour, which originates at the historic Gaylord Apartments, which used to make my husband snicker until he learned that the building was named for Henry Gaylord Wilshire, the socialist entrepreneur (yes! only in Los Angeles, right?) who developed this part of the city and whose other famous namesake is the lengthy Boulevard that stretches from downtown to Santa Monica.

Our tour guide, Summer, told us the fascinating history as we walked a couple of blocks north to the first of several stops on what was supposed to be a three-hour tour. It turned out to be a bit longer, partly due to the variable of Metro bus schedules but also because the proprietors of just about every dining establishment we visited insisted on plying us with lagniappes — extra dishes that were not on the menu carefully planned by the Urban Adventures tour guides. This is not a complaint, as the tour operator warned us to arrive with empty stomachs… and who doesn’t like getting more than your money’s worth?

Thai Town SausagesSo the delicious Korean barbecue kalbi we enjoyed at Ham Ji Park was augmented with additional calamari… The handmade Thai sausages Summer ordered for us at Spicy BBQ was just the appetizer for an amazing coconut flavored Thai chicken noodle soup… the taste of middle eastern cooking at Carousel turned out to be a full dinner plate… and don’t get me started on all the desserts!  The only reason I did not gain five pounds from this excursion was the fact that we made the entire trip on foot (aside from a short bus ride up Normandie, from 6th Street to Santa Monica Boulevard).

As I said before, this part of the city is really familiar to me — but it’s been years since I’ve done more than just drive through. You miss so much when you are watching through a car window. When you are led on a walking tour with an enthusiastic guide like Summer, you really see the sights. And when those sights include places to shop and eat, you engage all your other senses, too.

During the course of eight stops from Wilshire and Western to the Red Line station at Hollywood and Vermont, we learned the history of Wilshire Boulevard, the old Ambassador Hotel (now the site of the Robert F. Kennedy School complex), the gorgeous Chapman Market complex on 6th (the first shopping center built for cars! Who knew?), and the origins of the Little Armenia and Thai Town communities.

It was all fascinating. But what I will remember most is the food. And I don’t think I’m ever going to be just “driving through” the neighborhood any longer, because now I know exactly where to stop.

DISCLOSURE: I was not compensated for this post, but I was comped my spot on the tour. We paid a discounted price for my husband to come along. And for a limited time, readers of SoCal Mom can do the same when booking a tour with LA Urban Adventures: Just enter the code SOCALMOM13 good for 20% off any tour booked by June 1st (depart any time in 2013). This includes their other tours, like Stars and Bars Tour (which I think would be a blast for a birthday celebration or Girls Night Out – hint hint), Hollywood 101 and the Beverly Hills Golden Triangle Tour. This is great fun for visiting family and friends or just to get out and learn more about our great city. Summer can even create a customized itinerary that includes more kid-friendly spots for a family outing.

 

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
England Original Blogsta Travel

And Yesterday, We All Took a Bath

This is one of a series of old blog posts I’m re-publishing in honor of my 9/10’s of a decade writing SoCal Mom. This was posted December 29, 2006 while on another Christmas visit to England and Wales.

Bath, England
In the shadow of the cathedral in Bath. (c) 2006-2012, Donna Schwartz Mills

I had a good laugh Christmas Eve, while watching the weather report on the BBC News channel.

“Today was cold and gray all over the country,” the weather reporter intoned. “Tomorrow we’ll have more of the same. Frankly, we don’t foresee anything different until later in the week, when we will see a drastic change…”

I held my breath, hoping for the announcement that we would finally have a sunny day.

“…when the gale winds return, bringing colder temperatures and rain.”

Drastic change? I told my husband of this forecast, and he just groaned. Of course, having grown up here, he couldn’t have expected anything else in late December. The days are short, the skies are gray, and the temps are as far away from Southern California as you can get.

“It’s beautiful in L.A.,” my sister told me on the phone Boxing Day. As usual, she spent Christmas Eve with her mother-in-law in San Pedro, before moving up to our house. (After all, why should the fact that we’re not there prevent her and her family from spending a restful day at our house before driving back up to Sacramento.) “The sun is shining, and I think it must have hit 80 degrees this afternoon.”

“Is it smoggy?” I asked her.

“No, it’s clear and beautiful,” she replied.

I sighed. I was definitely feeling a whiff of homesickness. Come to think of it, that’s what usually happens after I’ve been away for two weeks. It’s predictable.

Besides, after three days of Christmas partying, we were all getting a little stir crazy. I still cannot get used to the fact that EVERYTHING closes here from late afternoon Christmas Eve until the end of Boxing Day on December 26. That’s three days of little to do but enjoy the company of your family within the confines of your home. Yes, the parks are open and we saw plenty of folks walking around Roath Park Lake, but that wasn’t all that appealing to this heat-seeking Californian.

It was clear to all of us that it was time to plan a day trip.

In 15 years of travel to Britain, I’ve seen remarkably little of the country. For years, we’ve talked about taking side trips to other areas of interest: the Lake District, Devon, Cornwall, even North Wales and Edinburgh. The problem with each of those locales is that it would take more than an hour’s drive to get there – and all would be more enjoyable in the summer, when we have a shot at enjoying some decent weather.

“How about Bath?” I asked my husband.

Bath is in southwest England, just about one hour’s drive from Cardiff (and two hours from London). Gareth and I met friends there on my very first trip to the UK 15 years ago, and we returned with his fam ily a few years later, but we’ve never brought Megan there, so it would be new to her.

“I don’t know. You really want to go to Bath again?” he asked.

Well, it’s close. There’s plenty to see and do there. And the gorgeous architecture and scenery would ensure that he would be able to take some wonderful photos, even if the weather is horrible. That last point clinched the deal. We awoke early yesterday and set out for Bath.

We couldn’t have picked a better day. “What’s that funny looking yellow thing up in the sky?” my husband joked.

“I believe it’s called the sun, Gareth,” I said. And it remained visible in the sky until it set.

Bath has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, thanks to its spectacular Georgian architecture and the remains of baths and temple built when the town was a major outpost of the Roman Empire. However, the restorative waters of the hot spring that gives the city its name have made it a destination since the days of the Celts. This year, the city opened up a state-of-the-art new spa where modern day visitors can experience the reputed healing properties of Bath’s famous hot spring.

We began our day by touring the ruins of the Roman baths, which were uncovered in the 1880’s by sewer system workers. Excavation revealed one of the most elaborate structures left by the Roman occupiers. As I’m still feeling a little guilty for taking Megan out of school three days early so we could save some money on this trip, I’ve been determined to include some education for her. This was a no-brainer.

The tour concluded in the 18th Century Pump Room, where Jane Austen (and many of her characters) often dined. There, a man dressed in Georgian attire was handing out glasses of the fabled spring water. Gareth and I weren’t going to try it again, but Megan was game.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said after her first exploratory sip. “It’s not so bad.” She then proceeded to drink the water and almost did a spit take. “Yes it is that bad!” she coughed. We thanked the gentleman as we returned her glass.

It was lunchtime and the Pump Room was still fairly empty, so we decided to stay for a bite. The room is rather formal, with a bill of fare to match. Fortunately, they offered a children’s menu that included simple dishes like spaghetti, so everyone was happy.

Gareth and I do not usually drink at lunch, but the ambiance of the room suggested that a glass of champagne would not be inappropriate. I started my meal with a mixed green salad dressed with an olive oil and coarse mustard vinaigrette. Both Gareth and I ate the Slow Roast Belly of Somerset Pork, a small roulade of meat set on a bed of creamed cabbage and leek-mash potatoes and apple gravy. It was delicious, but I think my mother-in-law made the best choice: a vegetarian strudel of butternut squash and spinach in puff pastry.

It was after 2:00 when lunch was finished, and Gareth wanted to get some pictures of Bath’s famous Royal Crescent, where people still reside. As we only had about 90 minutes of daylight left, we decided to find it – but first, we were captivated by a pair of very professional buskers, performing a juggling and unicycle act in front of the Pump Room. (Sample patter: “Oh, you’re from America? Here on holiday – or studying a foreign language?”)

As we made our way back down to the center of town, we passed the Jane Austen Center, and I realized that there was so much to do and see in Bath that we should have planned this to be an overnight visit. We decided to leave Jane for the next time so we might be able to tour the city’s magnificent Abbey before it closed at 4:00.

It was dark when we exited the Abbey gift shop and we were feeling a little peckish, so we decided to have a spot of tea before heading back to Cardiff. We stopped at Sally Lunn‘s, which has been in operation for 300 years in Bath’s oldest former residence (built around 1482 — but with foundations that date back to when the Romans were there). Sally Lunn herself was a French refugee who opened a shop in 1680, where she sold buns that became the rage of Georgian England… and whose recipe is still used today. I ordered the “Victorian Cream tea,” which included one-half toasted bun smeared with the establishment’s own lemon curd and accompanied with clotted cream. My bun-half looked like the bottom of a giant hamburger bun — but it was soft and fresh and yummy, as was the lemon curd. I would definitely return.

We left Bath feeling happy and full. And as we awoke this morning to a day of steady rain, we are happy to have had a sunny day in Bath.

(See more of our photos at Flickr!)

Enhanced by Zemanta
Categories
Cardiff Original Blogsta Travel

Cardiff and London, 2003: Earliest Posts at SoCal Mom

Why am I posting old photos of Cardiff and London today?

Because today marks NINE years of writing SoCal Mom! The launch of this new site is one way I’m commemorating my “blogiversary,” especially as I speed to to the decade mark. (What do you get a blogger for her tenth blogiversary? You have a year to figure it out!)

Over the next year, I’ll be highlighting some of the better posts I’ve written over most of the last decade — especially those you are likely to have missed. (Want to see that first post? It’s still over at Typepad.) I think I was a better writer then. There were no rules every blogger HAD to follow. I never expected anyone other than friends and family to read my blog, so there was no pressure to do any SEO. And nobody I knew even understood what a blog was – let alone companies, PR people, marketers. There was no Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Tumblr or any other social media platform to distract me from doing what I wanted to do: write an honest account of what I was experiencing at the time.

I started blogging in December 2003 to share one of our family vacations in the UK – which included a brief fling in Paris (my first — and so far, only time there).

We snapped a ton of photos with our first-ever digital camera (they had only just become affordable then), and upon our return, I created a Typepad “Photo Album.” I put together a number of these until 2005, when I began sharing my photos on Flickr instead. As years went by and my sidebars became more and more crowded, I stopped displaying the photo albums on my home page. So I suppose it’s fitting to make this the first post I’m porting back from the original site.

These are shots taken in my husband’s home town of Cardiff, Wales. Much of what is depicted has changed — especially my husband, my daughter and me.

Tesco Extra

 

Tesco Extra, Cardiff, Wales UK
Is it weird that the first thing we do in Cardiff is head to this grocery store to shop?

Gareth and I really love to shop at this supersized supermarket, the first store we’ve seen in Britain that’s open 24 hours. Except on Sunday. Gareth and I joke about it being 24/6. Still, my sis-in-law says this has saved her, because between raising three rambunctious boys and going back to school for her degree, she can shop late at night. At least, they are moving in the right direction.

Schwartz Christmas
H Not too many Schwartzes I know celebrate Christmas.

Schwartz Christmas

While shopping in the Tesco SuperCentre, I found this display of Christmas baking items and thought my nice Jewish family would get a kick out of it.

 

Cardiff Market
Cardiff Market, established 1892

Cardiff Market

Here’s the the entrance to the  more traditional Cardiff Market, one of my favorite places to visit in the City Centre. It reminds me of our own Los Angeles Farmers Market, where my grandmother used to take me for an international lunch… and where Gareth and I often visit now with Megan. The one in L.A. was established in 1934. The one in Cardiff opened over 40 years earlier.

Gareth snapped this shot of the booths (which sell everything from fresh meats, fish & produce to rugs & clothing, etc.) from the second level of the Market (where vendors sell fast breakfasts, lunches & teas — as well as used records, videos, pet supplies and collectibles). Check out the Victorian glass and ironwork ceiling!

Cardiff Market
View from the second level of Cardiff Market.

The Cornish Bake House

Our favorite spot for Cornish pasties.

No trip to Britain would be complete without a savoring a hot pastie (pronounced “pah-stee”). These are like meat turnovers and were the original bag lunch for the men who used to go off to the coal mines. The Cornish Bake House in Cardiff makes some of the best we’ve ever tasted.

Unfortunately, there’s no seating inside the shop — and our picky little eater refuses to even try them. So we hit upon a great idea: after buying our pasties, we hightailed it over to the nearest McDonald’s, where we purchased a Happy Meal and some nice soft drinks… then went up the stairs to find ourselves a comfy table and chairs. (This McDonald’s was decidedly upscale, with a large-screen TV showing music videos and expensive Internet kiosks.)

Terrace Houses

This is the hood where my husband grew up. Most of these houses were built around the turn of the 20th century.

Home Away from Home

When I first started visiting Cardiff, this was a Lloyd’s Bank. On our last trip, we discovered that it was now a Starbucks! Looks just like the ones in the States, doesn’t it?

One of the nice things about this trip is that after 12 years, I finally feel confident enough to walk to the shops on Albany Road unaccompanied by Gareth. I know that sounds weird, but my instinct when crossing the street is to look in the wrong direction — and pedestrians in the UK do not have the right of way, and motorists will not stop for them!

But I guess I finally licked the fear of becoming roadkill — so this time around, if I awoke before my husband, I didn’t have to sit around and wait for him to go and get a paper — I said good morning to Neil and Marion, walked out the door, bought a couple of papers — and if I really craved a cup of coffee, I stopped off at this Starbucks. (Note: My husband tells me our beloved Starbucks on Wellfield Road is no longer there. I will need to find another spot for coffee the next time we visit.)


Roath Park
Roath Park opened in 1894. This lighthouse was erected in 1912, to commemorate Captain Robert Scott, who embarked on his ill-fated Antarctic expedition from Cardiff.

 

Bridge at Roath Park, Cardiff
Check out the Victorian ironwork along the side of this bridge.

 

Ice cream truck at Roath Park
We All Scream for Ice Cream – Even when it’s freezing.

I found it amazing that the ice cream truck at the park gets such great business, even on days that just hover above freezing. Then again, I am also perplexed by the fact that the Brits will often drink a steaming cup of tea on a hot summer day (and pronounce it “refreshing”).

No trip to Cardiff would be complete without a visit at Castell Coch, one of three very different old fortresses in the area.
However, in Wales, it seems as if you cannot walk 10 blocks without stumbling over the ruins of some old castle.

 

Help! I’m Trapped!

After Cardiff, we moved east to London for a 24-hour period before we had to catch our flight back to Los Angeles.

That’s where Megan took this shot of Gareth clowning around in a phone box. It was rumored a few years back that these distinctive booths would be discontinued in favor of something more modern. I’m glad that didn’t happen. But I just read in a magazine that BT is converting some of them to Internet kiosks, which would allow people to hook in and check their email. I think that’s a wonderful way to integrate the traditional with modern communication needs. (You can tell this was written before the advent of affordable smartphones!)

Harrod's

There was very little we can afford at Harrod’s (even truer in 2012!), but I’d heard they held a great January sale. Alas, even at 40% off,  Dior clothes for kids were still too rich for my blood. They do have fun souvenir items for tourists, and over the years have expanded that department so that it now takes up about half the floor it is on — and we did end up buying a lot to bring back home. The Food Hall is also something that is not to be missed.

Princess Diana Memorial at Harrod’s.

As the signs around Harrod’s expressly forbid photography, we were not able to show you the in-house Starbucks and Krispy Kreme (imagine! at Harrod’s!). But owner Mohammad Al-Fayad has been on a crusade to prove to the world that the deaths of his son Dodi and the Princess were the result of foul play, so a sign next to this memorial announces that photos are allowed here only. Encased in plexiglass in front of the pictures are the wine glasses the couple drank from prior to embarking on that fatal ride, as well as a huge diamond engagement ring that Dodi purportedly was going to give Diana that evening.

Tower Bridge

 

The Paris leg of that trip included an enjoyable cruise down the Seine, so we decided to repeat the experience in London. Unfortunately, we opted to ride the Thames in the wrong direction, toward Greenwich, which means that the Tower Bridge was the first — and final — famous structure we would see on the voyage. However, all was not lost as we did enjoy visiting Greenwich.

Cutty Sark
One of the first things you see when you dock at Greenwich is this famous clipper ship, the Cutty Sark.
The First Shop in the World, Greenwich
This souvenir shop claims to be the world’s first, thanks to its geographic location.
The Royal Observatory at Greenwich
This is the building that housed the observatory in Greenwich. It is no longer used as an observatory, because of all the interference from the lights of London — but it’s still home of Greenwich Mean Time and the Prime Meridian.
The Prime Meridian
My husband straddling the Prime Meridian, with a foot in each hemisphere.