Now I am in New York, in a place called Fishkill. Before everyone gets upset, the name doesn't mean kill fish, it means Fish Creek in Old Dutch. The names around here tend to be leftovers from when the Indians sold Manhattan Island to the Dutch.
Friday, I went to my niece's wedding in Yorktown Heights in Westchester. It was all very nice and traditional and I really enjoyed myself at the dinners and reception and then hanging around with my family. We only get together now for weddings and funerals and I much prefer the weddings.
I flew down from Maine last Wednesday and that was an adventure that is becoming all too routine. I don't mind flying but going through airport security is becoming a bigger hassle every trip.
I had intended to come down last weekend and visit with my relatives on my wife's side of the family, but I ended up in a hospital in Central Maine for five days. The injury to my shin that I got in Jamaica wouldn't heal and was beginning to look ugly. When I went to the emergency room, I expected that they would give me some medicine and maybe some pills and send me away. They took one look at my leg and the next thing I knew I was in a bed with all kinds of IVs stuck on me. Then I was put in isolation until they were sure I didn't have some exotic bug from Jamaica. So they let me go but when I get home I have to go to my family doctor as soon as possible.
So no visit to Yankee Stadium or Shea. I'm going this afternoon to visit the cemeteries and my Aunt Agnes who will have her 101st birthday on the 22nd. Tomorrow I may go to the old hood in the Bronx, if I have enough courage, and maybe try to look up some of my old friends.
On Tuesday, I am flying home. Summer is over it's time to go home and back to work, if I can get up the energy.
For those who have been following this blog, the adventure will continue, just maybe at a little slower pace for the next few months.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
BACK IN THE WORLD
It started at the resort in Negril. The 90 minute flight from Montego Bay to Fort Lauderdale ended up taking 10 hours by the time I got to my hotel in Florida.
It started with getting my luggage to the porter at 9AM to be ready for the two hour bus ride to MOBAY. The bus schedule was moved up to allow time for the new security procedures. The bus still operates on Island time so it still didn't leave so early. Jamaicans are supposed to drive on the left, but I noticed that like the Italians, they prefer the middle of the road, particularly on narrow country roads. That makes for some interesting moments.
The airport at MOBAY was total chaos. The lines to check into flights stretched everywhere and many of the tourists were from countries where line discipline is unknown. I thought there was going to be a riot at one point. Then the line to get through the door to Jamaican emigration stretched about 200 yards. Then get your passport stamped and the to carry on searches. Then there was the shoe inspection. Then they went through my carry on luggage again and made me take off my shoes before I got into the airplane.
The flight was uneventful, but at FLL we had to wait and the blackshirted Border Patrol came aboard and took one passenger off for interrogation. I began to think about old war movies with the German soldiers checking everyone's papers at every corner.
Then when I finally got to the hotel and settled in, dinner was a bar frozen pizza and a bottled beer with no breakfast and McDonald for Lunch. What a comedown, but I had to come back someday and now I've gotten adjusted to doing for myself again.
It started with getting my luggage to the porter at 9AM to be ready for the two hour bus ride to MOBAY. The bus schedule was moved up to allow time for the new security procedures. The bus still operates on Island time so it still didn't leave so early. Jamaicans are supposed to drive on the left, but I noticed that like the Italians, they prefer the middle of the road, particularly on narrow country roads. That makes for some interesting moments.
The airport at MOBAY was total chaos. The lines to check into flights stretched everywhere and many of the tourists were from countries where line discipline is unknown. I thought there was going to be a riot at one point. Then the line to get through the door to Jamaican emigration stretched about 200 yards. Then get your passport stamped and the to carry on searches. Then there was the shoe inspection. Then they went through my carry on luggage again and made me take off my shoes before I got into the airplane.
The flight was uneventful, but at FLL we had to wait and the blackshirted Border Patrol came aboard and took one passenger off for interrogation. I began to think about old war movies with the German soldiers checking everyone's papers at every corner.
Then when I finally got to the hotel and settled in, dinner was a bar frozen pizza and a bottled beer with no breakfast and McDonald for Lunch. What a comedown, but I had to come back someday and now I've gotten adjusted to doing for myself again.
BACK IN THE WORLD
It started at the resort in Negril. The 90 minute flight from Montego Bay to Fort Lauderdale ended up taking 10 hours by the time I got to my hotel in Florida.
It started with getting my luggage to the porter at 9AM to be ready for the two hour bus ride to MOBAY. The bus schedule was moved up to allow time for the new security procedures. The bus still operates on Island time so it still didn't leave so early. Jamaicans are supposed to drive on the left, but I noticed that like the Italians, they prefer the middle of the road, particularly on narrow country roads. That makes for some interesting moments.
The airport at MOBAY was total chaos. The lines to check into flights stretched everywhere and many of the tourists were from countries where line discipline is unknown. I thought there was going to be a riot at one point. Then the line to get through the door to Jamaican emigration stretched about 200 yards. Then get your passport stamped and the to carry on searches. Then there was the shoe inspection. Then they went through my carry on luggage again and made me take off my shoes before I got into the airplane.
The flight was uneventful, but at FLL we had to wait and the blackshirted Border Patrol came aboard and took one passenger off for interrogation. I began to think about old war movies with the German soldiers checking everyone's papers at every corner.
Then when I finally got to the hotel and settled in, dinner was a bar frozen pizza and a bottled beer with no breakfast and McDonald for Lunch. What a comedown, but I had to come back someday and now I've gotten adjusted to doing for myself again.
It started with getting my luggage to the porter at 9AM to be ready for the two hour bus ride to MOBAY. The bus schedule was moved up to allow time for the new security procedures. The bus still operates on Island time so it still didn't leave so early. Jamaicans are supposed to drive on the left, but I noticed that like the Italians, they prefer the middle of the road, particularly on narrow country roads. That makes for some interesting moments.
The airport at MOBAY was total chaos. The lines to check into flights stretched everywhere and many of the tourists were from countries where line discipline is unknown. I thought there was going to be a riot at one point. Then the line to get through the door to Jamaican emigration stretched about 200 yards. Then get your passport stamped and the to carry on searches. Then there was the shoe inspection. Then they went through my carry on luggage again and made me take off my shoes before I got into the airplane.
The flight was uneventful, but at FLL we had to wait and the blackshirted Border Patrol came aboard and took one passenger off for interrogation. I began to think about old war movies with the German soldiers checking everyone's papers at every corner.
Then when I finally got to the hotel and settled in, dinner was a bar frozen pizza and a bottled beer with no breakfast and McDonald for Lunch. What a comedown, but I had to come back someday and now I've gotten adjusted to doing for myself again.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Something different
Here I am in Maine! No half naked Toga parties, drinking games or swimming contests here.
There is a lot of boating to be done here, especially with the remnants of ERNSTO going through.
Last week we went to a county fair. I was surprised to see that people still live that way.
We saw the cattle auctions, milking contests, horse races and the giant pumpkin jugding. I didn't know that a pumpkin could weight in at 400 pounds.
On Friday, my daughter Clair and I drove her daughter Claire to Montreal to her college. She is a senior at McDill College. This is the first time I have been in Montreal in 45 years.
My daughter's friendry Fleightrer made his movie "Don't tell a soul" in Montreal. In the outside scenes. Montreal really looks a lot like like downtown New York.
Then we came back on Sat 3 Sept. It was very interesting. Sat afternoon is the time of Flea Markets and Yard Sales.
From Vermont, through New Hampshire and into Maine, it seems that the main industy in New England is to sell your junk to someone else.
Maybe some more tomorro.
There is a lot of boating to be done here, especially with the remnants of ERNSTO going through.
Last week we went to a county fair. I was surprised to see that people still live that way.
We saw the cattle auctions, milking contests, horse races and the giant pumpkin jugding. I didn't know that a pumpkin could weight in at 400 pounds.
On Friday, my daughter Clair and I drove her daughter Claire to Montreal to her college. She is a senior at McDill College. This is the first time I have been in Montreal in 45 years.
My daughter's friendry Fleightrer made his movie "Don't tell a soul" in Montreal. In the outside scenes. Montreal really looks a lot like like downtown New York.
Then we came back on Sat 3 Sept. It was very interesting. Sat afternoon is the time of Flea Markets and Yard Sales.
From Vermont, through New Hampshire and into Maine, it seems that the main industy in New England is to sell your junk to someone else.
Maybe some more tomorro.
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