Wednesday, September 20, 2023

La 70 de Ani - o Retrospectivă


Sascut, județul Bacău, 21 septembrie 1953. O zi de toamnă, probabil blândă și senină în care albastrul nepătat al cerului urma să se reverse în ochii tăi care abia se deschideau către lume. 


Maia a zis că te-ai născut după o nuntă la care venise din Timișoara, unde locuiați atunci, doar pentru un weekend. Dar viața nu te-ntreabă când vrei să vii - așa cum nu te întreabă când vrei să pleci. Soarta a vrut să fii născută în Moldova, vatra străbunilor tăi, chiar dacă părinții trăiau la celălalt colț de țară la acea vreme. 


Erau frământări mari în lume, în 1953 - Stalin abia murise, războiul din Coreea se termina și americanii plecau acasă cu coada între picioare. Așa cum o vor face de repetate ori de atunci înainte. Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej era prim-ministrul Republicii Populare Române și încă nu se transformase în oraș. 1953 pare cu o veșnicie în urmă. Dar sunt de fapt doar 70 de ani!


E mult? E puțin? Mie mi se pare cât o clipă! 


Mă strădui sa găsesc cuvinte potrivite pentru așa o ocazie de imensă! Și mărturisesc că mi-e greu. Cum sa sumezi doar în câteva cuvinte omul care ți-a dat viață și fără de care nu ai fi existat? Dar încerc sa merg înapoi pe drumul memoriei și să pun pe hârtie (virtuală) câteva gânduri despre cea mai importantă femeie din viața mea! 


Ai fost cu mine toată viața mea, de la prima răsuflare și până azi. Și în zi de celebrare mi-aduc aminte de toate zilele frumoase și de cele mai puțin frumoase pe care le-am împărtășit. Pentru că viața nu e făcută doar din fericire. Amar și tristețe există pentru a ne aminti cât de sfinte și binecuvântate sunt zilele senine! Așa e rostul lumii ... decis de o putere mai mare decât noi. 


Serbările de sfârșit de an când îmi făceai coronița pentru premiul întâi. Zilele toride de vară când mergeam la mare și mă forțai să stau la plajă ca “să prind culoare”. Serile reci și întunecate de iarnă, când eram prin clasa întâi și mă învățai să împletesc: “un ochi pe față, unul pe dos.” 


Lecțiile de viață pe care mi le dădeai de obicei în bucătărie unde petreceai cea mai mare parte din timpul în care nu erai la servici. Mai ales mi-aduc aminte când mi-ai dat să curăț primul meu morcov, când locuiam la Târgu Frumos. Țin minte cum m-ai avertizat că sigur o să mă tai și că trebuie să fiu atentă. Eu, încăpățânată cum sunt, am zis că nu mă tai, lasă-mă să curăț eu. Și bineînțeles că m-am tăiat. Dar am învățat cum să țin un cuțit de atunci. Și așa ai fost mereu: alături de mine, veghind, îndrumând, dar dându-mi libertatea să încerc viața în felul meu. 


Mi-aduc aminte multele excursii pe care le-am făcut împreună, când am mers împreună la Durău când am terminat clasa a 10-a în care ai mers doar din întâmplare, fără a planui dinainte. Apoi toate excursiile în America atunci când ai venit să vezi viața pe care mi-am făcut-o aici: Myrtle Beach, Atlanta, Las Vegas, Monument Valley, Parcul Arcurilor din Utah, Barajul de la Hoover Dam, Salt Lake City, cutreierând cramele și degustând vinuri în Carolina de Nord și Virginia ... Când ai venit la Summerfield și l-ai crescut pe Gypsy dintr-o mână de pisic. Gypsy pe care de fapt tu l-ai și “botezat”. Când ai venit în Utah și m-ai vegheat la spital, după operația de inimă.  Amintiri de neuitat care mi se par ca s-au întâmplat ieri ... 


Astăzi, de ziua ta, când vremurile ți se par triste, când marea dragoste a vieții tale te veghează de sus, și nu din dreapta ta, îți aduc aminte că ești înconjurată de dragostea noastră. Nu putem aduce niciodată trecutul în prezent și nu-l putem duplica în viitor. Tot ce putem face este să privim înainte, și să încercăm să creăm în continuare amintiri frumoase împreună. 


Maia ne spunea ca te-ai nascut dansând, a doua zi după o nuntă. Așa aș vrea să te vedem mereu: dansând și zâmbind și bucurandu-te de muzică, de familie, de viață ...  


Mom, te iubim mai mult decât o pot spune în cuvinte. Când mă uit la cei 70 de ani (48 dintre ei din amintire, și restul din poveștile altora) sunt uimită de câte au trecut peste tine și prin câte ai trecut, fizic, psihic, și emoțional. Cât de mult te-ai schimbat și totuși cât de mult ai rămas aceeași femeie frumoasă, puternică, și de bază care ai fost mereu - un exemplu de tenacitate, ambiție, inteligență, circumspecție, și onestitate. 


Sper din tot sufletul că astăzi să te uiți în urmă și să nu plângi după toată fericirea care a fost odată și care poate ți se pare astăzi estompată, ci să te bucuri că ești alături de cei care te iubesc, și să zâmbești la gîndul posibilităților vieții care vor veni ... 


Ce a fost nu mai poate fi, dar astăzi deschizi o nouă decadă, un nou capitol, și îți dorim să-l umpli cu speranță, sănătate, și lumină ... 


Acuma când la multele atribute ți se adaugă și înțelepciunea, sper să o folosești pentru a-ți găsi în continuare făgașul tău spre zile bune, ca să ne bucuri mulți, mulți ani de acum înainte cu prezența ta minunată, precum o floare de câmp supraviețuiește extraordinar furtunilor și rămâne mereu verticală,  învingătoare și parcă mai proaspătă, în câmpul dur și aspru al vieții.  


Te iubim și vrem sa te știm puternică așa cum ai fost mereu ... Uită-te în adâncul inimii tale și găsește comoara de neprețuit care ești ... și care ne ești tuturor ... 


La mulți ani! 



16 aprilie 2010 - ziua cea mai fericită din viața mea, ziua nunții.
Te iubesc! 


Friday, August 11, 2023

Every Day Is a First. And So Is Today.



You know when you are too close to someone, or to some thing ... you can no longer really see all their details anymore? Nor can you appreciate all their intricacies, quirks, charm, uniqueness? You feel like you’re too close to them to be impartial? You’re too close to them to know ... do they have blue eyes or green? Do they roll their Rs or have a lisp?  - it takes you a minute to know for sure ... 


This is how I feel about you: you consume my every thought every single second of every day. Every minute, I think or wonder: what is she up to today? I wonder what crazy file does she have to wrestle with today that would throw her in the midst of stress and frenzy? What worries will she face today? How can I make her smile more? How can I surprise her more (for I know how you much you love surprises - just about as much as I hate them!) 


I asked myself a rhetorical question today: what can I possibly say about you today, for your birthday, that I have not said before? I feel like every thought I ever had about you has been spent. Every word - uttered. Every feeling - expressed. No surprises and no novelty here. Until Aa. blurted out: “She is 45!” - and I laughed out loud! Yep! “A. is 45” has never, till today, been said before ... 


When did this happen? 45 years ago today, while I was at the beach with our grandparents, walking the streets, you were born many miles away in our home town. They told me when I would get home, I would have a sister and I did not understand, at 3 years and 4 months, what that exactly meant. When I did get home, I asked them all if you were going to spend the night. That shows you how smart I was ... 


But you did spend the night. And every night after that, thank God! And you became part of the family and slowly part of me, too! Your presence, your being, your antics and your life ... became part of mine too. 


I think what amazes me, still, 45 years later is how different we are and yet how common our lives have been. We grew together, almost twinned,  branches from the same trunk, but turned out so incredibly different. Just like branches feeding from the same life-giving water, we twisted in different directions, we grew a different number of twigs (me - none, and you - two), we turned different directions (you - North, and me - South), we bloomed at different times (you - early, and me - late), we will most certainly turn to fall at different ages, too ... I grew out tough and gnarly, you - thin, slender, flexible like the draping branches of a willow. Both, beautiful and strong, but also both singular in who we are ... 


We have faced so much together, in our own time and on our own path. But I never, for one second, ever felt like you were too far away from me. This past year has been so hard! So incredibly hard. And although I thought I knew everything there was to know about you, and about us, I have learned so much more, still. I have learned how much unassumingly stronger (than me) you are. How much more poised and dignified, to my erratic, crazy mess! You have revealed a new sorela to me - I would not say that it’s one I never knew was there, but one that I only guessed that must be dormant, lurking in the darkness, ready to come out when the time was right. And the time for strength, for ultimate, desperate strength, did come this year. And for you sharing it with me, I will thank you forever ... 


Happy 45th, Sorela! I wish you many clear mornings with strong coffee and kitty cuddles. Sunny days, as sunny as your own outlook on life. Many runs in dewy meadows, downhill and bug-free. Many days of health and lightness - in body, in spirit, in laughter ... I wish the good and easy parts in you would never change nor spoil. I wish life, no matter how hard, would never harden you. And I wish you’ll know that every day, every second of every day, I am here for you to gladly lighten the load if I can, and just like one branch supports the other, to ask for you to catch me if I am fixin’ to bend. 


I remember today more than ever what our parents have always told us: when they will be no longer, we will have each other. This promise on their part seemed but a dream till recently. But after this past year, I am starting to see that day more and more clearly come into focus now, and I am so incredibly grateful that you will be there to hold me up! You’re the only human that knows my past and my soul as well as I do. You’re the only one who speaks the same unspoken language I think and feel. 


I wish you the strength, the lightness, the youth of your first 45 years for the next 45 and beyond! 


I love you more. Now, and always. 


Tuesday, July 11, 2023

A Drive through the Heart of the Nation during the Most American Week of the Year

Columbus, OH was really a nice surprise. I am not sure why, but I was thinking it’ll be another depressing, Midwestern town, loud with darkness and sad people looking down, gray skies, and putrid humidity in July. And it was nothing of sorts. It was clean, and svelte, and cosmopolitan, a mix of historic and modern, loaded in stories of German ancestry as loud as the brick walls are red. It had a vibe - people were walking, and skateboarding, and running amok towards the baseball stadium, restaurants were open and so diverse in every way. All the staff was friendly, with a sunny (and not gray) disposition, chatty, even, and kind. We stayed at a historic hotel, during “modern times” bought by Marriott (who, we hoped cured it from all the ghosts), but with a history of its own - originally called when it opened in 1896, “The Great Southern Fireproof Hotel and Opera House" - I’ll let you dig that story up! It’s fascinating! 



Street corner in Columbus, OH



The lobby at The Westin Great Southern Columbus hotel, formerly The Great Southern Fireproof Hotel and Opera House




The making of The Bourbon Twilight at Bar Cicchetti - The Westin Hotel


The breakfast at the hotel was a different story. Who puts butter on a smoked salmon bagel sandwich? Apparently Bar Cicchetti does. The cocktails the night before were spectacular, especially the Bourbon Twilight. Bourbon flambé, anyone? 


The vibe was gone in Charleston, WV. I have not really experienced West Virginia more than just driving through it and cursing the broken highways. What I have seen of it is indeed “wild and wonderful”, as the state slogan advertises. But I also know of poverty and deep challenges, cracks in infrastructure and education so big that they seem that can never be mended. I have always wanted to visit at least Charleston, the state capital, even if for no other reason than because they have - from the speed of the highway, at least - the most beautiful Capitol dome that I can remember of any other US State I have been to. Gilded in 24K gold, it reminds one of the riches of castles of Europe or the church domes of Russia. 



The Capitol in Charleston, WV


As I have already said, Charleston did not have a vibe. It felt like a town that is virtually, generally closed for business. We arrived on a Thursday evening and most restaurants were already closed at 7.30 (had already closed at 6PM). The handful that were open would have closed by 9 PM. Driving through the city felt like driving through a ghost town. Maybe it’s because it was the week of July 4th and the government (and maybe the city folk) were on vacation? But there were tons of businesses closed, some stripmalls that looked deserted truly, and some of the houses in what one would deem the “desirable” neighborhood of The Capitol block, right along the Kanawha river (waterfront, in fact) bore many signs that announced them to be “available”, “for sale” or “for lease.” Most had the sign of age and decay written clearly on their chipped brick walls and cloudy windows thick with cobwebs. 


The Capitol building is indeed impressive. But, Charleston was sad, dark, and lonely ... I wished that the stereotype of West Virginia being one of the poorest states in The Union, lacking opportunities and draw would be busted ... But from the little time we spent there, we were left wanting for more ... 


Indiana Dunes is the 13th National Park we have visited so far. You’re not really sure when you’re drifting from Ohio into Indiana and into Michigan onward. The park is unique because it’s a National Park surrounded by a State Park beach that opens up on Lake Michigan. The National Park piece is wild, criss-crossed by trails, and really diverse, a mix of sandy dunes, juniper trees and desert-like vegetation, right along marshes filled with birds, turtles and ducks. The State Park piece is full of people sunning on the beach, bringing all their people-ness along - noise, mess, busy-bodiness ... Quite mysteriously placed, only to remind us we’re still in the manufacturing Midwest, a very active steel plant neighbors the parks; its flames rush towards the skies frantically, adding more heat to the already melty summer air.  I wish we had a wee bit more time to explore the trails ... 



The beach at Indiana Dune State Park on Lake Michigan



An oasis in Indiana Dunes National Park

Kalamazoo, MI used to be somewhat of a sad, gray, Midwestern, blue-collar city, too, when I first started visiting, back in 2009. But with every visit since, it has come more into its own. Tons of new stripmalls are popping up, new construction, condos, new homes, some of them incredibly modern in architecture, new coffee shops, updated diners (instead of the greasy-spoon ones of the 50’s). It was particularly cheery in the summer - weather does cast a more somber shadow on it, when days on end fail to show the sun during winter and fall ... But the feeling of fresh, new blood and life was refreshing.  


Holland and South Haven, Michigan have similar characteristics to one another. My husband said they are “typical coastal towns” which I guess makes sense: they are both sitting proud on Lake Michigan. Holland is a college town meets mid-century modern homes. South Haven leans more towards the colonial, or even Victorian architecture. 



South Haven Lighthouse in South Haven, MI. You can tell the muckiness of the smoky and humid air above Lake Michigan


Outside of Holland, we went for some baked goods at Crane’s Orchards. My companions raved about the freshly baked pie. My pretzel was delicious, so hot out of the oven that it burned my lips. But the waitress had a terrible time figuring out how to charge for two slices of pie and a pretzel. You see, people come here for pies, mostly. That part, she figured out. The pretzel was an appetizer, and although I ordered it as it was on the menu, she was taken by surprise and could not figure out what to tell “the computer”. Crane’s is one of those places that has ‘regular” dining options (like sandwiches) just to attract the new folk, but they are known well for one thing only by “the regulars” (pies) and they draw probably 99% of their customers for pies. They are on autopilot for pies. The rest of the options on the menu seemed to be a mystery to them ... A nice stop, overall, but just be ready to allow for some ungainliness if you crave something other than ... a slice of cherry pie a la mode.  



The pie place: Crane's Orchard in Fennville, MI


Speaking of ungainliness, at Anna’ House (a modern diner with a very exhaustive and diverse menu in Kalamazoo), they will spill two pints of ice water and half of a hot cup of coffee on you without much of an apology. After drenching my mother-in-law in said liquids, we all got free coffees ... No apology, really (other than “Sorry, this happens sometimes”), no manager came to visit, no one offered a dry cleaner’s coupon for the snow white shirt that was not splotchy brown from coffee stains ... But the food is delicious! 


We passed through Springfield, Ohio, where we stopped for a couple of hours to visit The Westcott House, a Frank Lloyd Wright construction which was finished in 1903. This is only the second F.L. Wright building we have seen (the first one was Taliesin West which is a home and a school - a bit of a different purpose), and the first one that we have seen that was built for a family. If you are at all interested not only in architecture, but human innovation, history, and the daring ideas of a visionary spirit, I strongly encourage you to get into the mind of Frank Lloyd Wright. The possibilities of learning about looking at the world through different-colored glasses are endless with this guy! When you think of the period he grew up in and of the years during which he created (between 1860s and 1950s) and the type of architecture he created (some elements of which did not become mainstream till 1980s and 1990s), your mind will be blown away! 


America was still designing homes with 2x4 ft closets all the way into the 1970s! Wright designed walk-in closets (arguably some of the first ones ever), with built-in drawers, shelves, areas separated by function and purpose ... When people hardly had indoor plumbing, he added bathrooms to every bedroom or, for smaller bedrooms (meant for children), he connected them by Jack-n-Jill bathrooms. The craftsmanship, the wood paneling, the unique pigmented stucco walls, the stained glass doors and light fixtures, the long, tunnel-like, canopy gardens are signature items we have seen in both of the places we visited. They bring everything together into a cohesive style, stamp it with his unique signature ... Oh, how I wish I would have met him and seen his thinking process. As the granddaughter of a construction engineer, I am fascinated by how people create something from nothing. Or something from a dream, or a feeling of where things should go ... I wish I could see a house from a plotting design, but I can’t ... And it’s perhaps because I can’t see this that I appreciate and respect it so much. 


Full disclosure: The Westcott House you see today is almost a 100% restoration. The home was inhabited by the Westcott family who commissioned it from the famous artist between 1903 and 1926. After that, it went through many identities, being anything from a single-family home, a boarding house, and later an apartment complex. The house was later left in disrepair which made the ubiquitous wood fixtures rot and the foundation collapse. The floors, the built-ins, the roof beams collapsed and made it unsafe to live in. The Wright Foundation eventually bought it from the last owner and restored every inch of it. They used the original plans, and pictures from different stages of the house’s life to restore it. I think the job was done well and the place shows like the masterpiece that was intended to be. You’ll learn about the Springfield and Ohio history and industry while you're here - the docent is a retired newspaper employee and she is full of facts. After telling us the many details about the many industries of Springfield and Ohio, in general, she concluded with pride “We are pretty cool!”. 




Frank Lloyd Wright's The Westcott House in Springfield, OH

We traveled for the entire week through the smoke of the wildfires in Canada. Couple that with the normal wet heat of the East Coast, you’d know that the weather was a hot stew: wet and burning any way you breathed it ...


I love summer travel when kids are out of school and they are instead serving customers at the fast foods on their summer jobs. Their innocence and sometimes charming absent-mindedness is somewhat endearing to me (maybe now that I have nephews old enough to work in a restaurant for the summer is what causes this nostalgia).


In Columbus, we had to allow our car to be parked by the valet. We had a 6 pack of beer in the trunk and someone got a little happy with the steering wheel on the way to or from the parking lot. The following morning, they brought it back with broken beer bottles in the trunk. We drove from Columbus to Kalamazoo the next day in beer fumes, trying nervously not to get pulled over and charged with drunken driving, considering the obvious stench ... 


West Virginia had the most, shall we say, unique ...  billboards. Some websites advertised in big, bold letters things like helltruth.com and hicksoutdoor.com. I am afraid to ask! 


We passed innumerable mobile homes on this journey, some of them so decrepit and run down, we wondered how many breaths they had left before their time was over. Leaning walls, leaking roofs, boarded windows, but with perfectly-looking cars parked up front and small, half-naked, mired in mud, little kids upfront. I would only wonder what they had for breakfast or dinner the previous night ... It could not have been much. The penury was palpable. And yet, on so many of them, there was a sign on their front door that spelled in bold, bright letters very clearly: “BLESSED”. I have zero room to complain! 


One of the most beautiful drives is along the river Kanawha through West Virginia. The river flows right along the side of the highway like a good, loyal companion. It, with the road and the train tracks, snake along together telling the same coal-dark story ... 


America is a country of contrasts. Of rich and poor. Of sad and happy. Of light and shadows. 


Confederate flags hanging on farmlands like bleeding wounds, Trump political signs reading like the sure threat they are.  All this while the cd was spinning in our dashboard and Jeb Puryear of Donna the Buffalo was bellowing out: “Let’s build a fortress of love by the river with all the happiness that we can find.” 


Let’s! 




Quintessential America: Charleston, WV around the Capitol block, and on the side of the road somewhere in the Midwest.

Thursday, June 01, 2023

The Dog That Never Stopped Barking

The day they come into our lives is the happiest. And the day they leave us, as all things do, eventually, is the saddest. Today is one of these sad days. 


I speak, of course, of our pets. Our creatures. Our friends. Our family members. Our companions. Our worry. Our ball and chain. And our ultimate happiness, joy, and sometimes even single reason for getting out of bed in the morning. 


Our family has had cats that we all shared. They were our cats. Maybe only Bella, the half-siamese stray kitty (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2018/12/good-night-sweet-princess.html) was half a stray and half my dad’s cat. But the rest of them were ours


The dogs, though, the two dogs my family ever had, were without a question my dad’s dogs. No one disputed this! They were both named Bobby, both pure-bred German Shepherds. And were absolutely 180-degrees diametrically opposed! They were massive, scary-looking dogs, all chest and muscle, all head. But temperamentally, they could not have been more different!


Bobby #1 (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2010/06/cainele-care-latra-numai-la-pisici.html) was quiet, and patient. He used to put his large head on your knee as you sat down and just sit there, looking at you with begging eyes, just to be close to you. Not Bobby #2. 


Bobby #2 came into dad’s life mere months after Bobby #1 died. Dad got his first Bobby the year my sister got married (2000) and when he died, the year I got married (2010), dad got Bobby #2. The second Bobby was all voice! You could hear him from two neighborhoods down the street! He would bark at cars, people, birds, cats - a loud, aggressive, piercing bark and howl. All lungs. All power. You’d wish you died a decent, painless death before you came face-to-face with that dog. He seemed to be a menace and he was after you till you were over, for sure - the very last breath of you.  


Dad loved it, though, because he wanted people to fear him so they’d never think of approaching his house! It worked. I am sure of it. 


The first thing he did when he grew up tall enough to not be a puppy anymore was to pull down all of mom’s laundry off the clotheslines and bury it in the yard! Freshly clean white sheets - buried in the yard’s muck. Deep. It was the day I thought for sure mom would kill dad! 


Then, my aunt went to feed him one day, and he shredded off her pants! Never bit into her flesh at all, but tore up her pants. And she is the kindest, most caring people you’d meet! And she was, after all, the hand that fed him. No matter! 


My parents knew pretty early on that this was no dog to be let loose in the yard, like the first Bobby. Dad immediately built a separate yard enclosure for him, where he was free to roam and as loud as he wanted to be (and boy, was he loud!), but where he could not get in trouble with people. Mom and dad went in there to feed him. Dad had his meat-smoking and wine-making equipment in there, so he went in there quite often. He played with him every time he went into his "territory". He also had a clear view of the rest of the yard and who came and went. He never seemed alone nor lonely because he spoke with every breath he took. You could say he was the perfect dog for our chatty family! Finally we met our match! He'd wag his whole body and pull at the fences and gate around him to tear them down if you ever so much as made eye contact with him! You would never be able to ignore him. Ever. It was a thing to watch!


For years - 10 or so - I believed Bobby #2 was just an aggressive, angry dog that was so defensive of my dad and the house that he was willing to tear anyone or anything up that, to his perception, came between dad and his security. But later on people started debating whether  he was truly just angry and hateful towards people (he was raised from birth by people, always with a family, always cared for), or just lonely and asking to play ... A dog that should have never been a yard dog, but rather a family, living room kinda dog?! We will never know, because all he ever was was a yard dog ... 


It was not till last year, when we went back to bury dad and when he was over 12 years old, that I finally got the courage to pet him! It took 12 whole years for me to build up the courage to approach him. And for mom to feel safe enough to let him out of his enclosure and around people. 


Bobby #2 died today, June 1, 2023. Ironically enough, like the big kid looking for play that he was all his life, he died today, on International Kids’ Day! 


Six months, one week and three days after dad left us, Bobby finally crossed the rainbow bridge to be with him. They are both in Heaven now, Bobby waking up the dead, quite probably, and dad trying to catch up with his shenanigans. They are probably both looking for Bobby #1 and all our kitties to have a good ol' family reunion and dad is surely smoking some yummy ribs and sausages and sharing them all around. I'd like to think of this, rather than spend some time just crying and letting my heart bleed ...


Our house back in Romania is probably dead-quiet. Our streets have found a silence and a peace that they have not known for 13 years now. As much as the neighbors will enjoy the silence, they will also probably miss the bucolic flair of the barking dog in the night... 


My heart goes out to my grieving mom who had to muster the courage and the force to put him down after he had been suffering for months from a tumor and a frail back. 


Rest in peace, sweet fellow! Our lives are richer and kinder because you were in them! 



Bobby #2 in 2018 and last year (2022) when he finally came out of his enclosure. He was a handsome guy, for sure.

Monday, May 15, 2023

A Bit of Everything: St. Petersburg, FL

St. Petersburg, FL is a city on water. It sits on the Pinellas peninsula between Tampa Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, and is connected to mainland Florida to the north.


I finally managed to string a few thoughts together after our trip there about a month ago. 


  • On our first morning in St. Pete (as we have learned that everyone calls it), we went to The Hangar restaurant for breakfast. Appropriately named, it is perched above a small private airport, where planes take off right from under your plates. I actually know someone who lives in Florida and not only owns their small private plane, but they built it themselves (former airline pilots, now retired). Yeah, Florida does seem sometimes like the land of all possibilities, until you check out their politics (I could not help but notice that there is even a “Fox” car rental place in the Tampa airport. No joking!). I was just fascinated how much traffic that small airport displayed in just less than an hour while we were eating our fresh fruit. And Florida does have really good fresh fruit! 

  • At the restaurant, we had a very cranky waitress. She was fine and all till the hostess placed two small children with their grandmas (who reminded me of Grace and Frankie: one, in a posh pair of pressed pants, and the other in a Dali “surrealist” shirt and a flower-pattern Hawaiian pair of baggy pants) in her section, right next to our table. She hurried to get the kids’ order ready first, saying that “She tried to be fast so they have something to keep them busy for a bit.” One of the grandmas is impressed and says “Wow! You must have kids of your own. You know how to handle them!” to which the waitress says with a frown: “No, I don’t have any. I actually very much dislike kids.” Mic drop! I have been accused of being bluntly honest myself, but dang! 

  • The cranky was everywhere in Florida, I might add: the hotel receptionist was flustered when someone came to grab a drink from the fridge at the front desk and asked them to add it to their room tab (why? isn’t this how it works?!). Then, the receptionist told us that to get our valet to drive our car around, we should text this number (showing it to us on a piece of paper), and “they sometimes answer it.” I was confused. So, sometimes we won’t get our car back (the parking was valet only). Another hotel guest confirmed in the elevator that “yeah, you need to call and then come down and wait for at least 20-30 minutes and sometimes they need reminders even after that. But they will eventually get your car.  Good times!” - she added. I was beginning to wonder where the “Southern hospitality” lives in Florida?! Definitely not in the ... umm ... “hospitality” industry. 

  • We did run into this sweet hostess at the Dali museum, right after we stepped in. She advised us, unsolicited, where we could go and start the guided tour through the museum with a docent. This proved to be a really nice experience as the docent walked the galleries with us, sharing real-life stories about Dali and explaining the paintings through that realistic frame. This docent was one of the most memorable parts of the trip: she could not have been more than 4ft 11in in height, with a voice as quiet as a whisper, and she must have been at least 100 years of age! And this is no exaggeration. She was using a walker and her small frame was bent over by age and osteoporosis. Her fingers crooked and gnarly. She was frail in stature and physique, but so sharp in mind and humor. At times, she made the stories about Dali eating cheese on the Parisian sidewalks and watching the bull fights so real that we were thinking she must have been there and witnessed these moments herself. 


There are details like these that make travels unforgettable. The museum was everything I was looking forward to: originality, breathlessness to be in the same room with some of the most amazing works of art of all centuries. But the docent, the Avant-garden where we had a small pastry snack on the persistence of memory bench, were details that punctuated it with uniqueness and gave it a vivid contour, all ours.







Various scenes from The Dali Museum. Standing in front of "The Ecumenical Council" (and so many others) was a "bucket list" moment for me


I could not peel myself away from the trompe-l'œil of the "Gala Contemplating the Mediterranean Sea which at Twenty Meters Becomes the Portrait of Abraham Lincoln" painting. I just could not figure out "how he did that" ...
(For full effect, click the picture to enlarge it, then look carefully at it by squinting your eyes. After a while you will see that the window becomes Lincoln's portrait.)

  • If in Arizona, we had the best experience with foods - availability and diversity everywhere - in St. Petersburg we had some spotty encounters.
    We were hard pressed to find a breakfast place on Sunday morning (which was also my birthday as well as Easter). After striking out on several places that could not place us or offered to place us after a minimum of two hours, we ended up having breakfast at Starbucks! And what do you know: even Starbucks was out of bagels. 

  • We wanted to try out what seemed to be a more off-the-beaten-path breakfast place called Bacon Bitch. Seriously - who would not want to eat in a place by this name?! But as we were waiting to be seated, I saw one of the waitresses smoking in the kitchen as she was rearranging her shorts and ponytail while she cleaned out the edges of the plates with her spare hand before taking them to the customers in the dining room. I was hungry, but umm ... Nope ... Sorry, Bacon Bitch: clever name, but you lost me! Literally.  

  • We did find a couple of good food places. Frenchy’s Outpost in Dunedin had the fresh seafood you expect from a seashore town. The Teak restaurant is a show stopper: it is at the very end of the St. Pete Pier and a feat of architectural design. It looks like a spaceship waiting for lift-off. Although the food was remarkable (they had replaced their regular seafood menu with “Easter”-inspired dishes, so it was more mashed potatoes and ham and less seafood gumbo), the view is why it’s worth the trek. Best views of the water and of the bay towards the city that we could find. The sunset over St. Pete was stunning, even on a cloudy day. 



Scrumptious claws at Frenchy's Outpost





Various views of and from The Teak restaurant, on the St. Pete Pier

  • We visited the Chihuly Collection at the Morean Arts Center on one of the days. The Chihuly pieces were amazing, as we expected, but what was truly memorable was the glass-blowing demonstration we watched after visiting the museum. Glass blowing is not only an amazing feat of human skill and ingenuity, but there is also so much science - particularly chemistry, physics and biology that goes into it - and those were explained in detail. Made me want to call my nephews and ask them to make sure they stay in school and won’t skip their science classes ever. They will be useful for something. One day! 



Glass blowing demonstration at the Morean Arts Center


Ceiling in the hallway at the Chihuly Collection

  • I am glad to see more and more mural art in many of the towns and cities we visit. I have always liked murals and even tasteful graffiti art - it’s always surprising the amount of talent and thought that goes into creating them and really gives the flavor and tone of a particular city. And St. Pete is another one of these “mural cities”. 




Just a small sample of the much mural art adorning the walls of St. Pete's buildings

  • St. Petersburg seemed like a mish-mash of a variety of styles, really: I would say that here, modern meets art deco meets traditional Southern charm. In terms of vegetation, palm trees, live oak and Spanish moss dress up the avenues. A bit of the tropics line up the St. Pete Pier parks. If you really want to take in the tropics, the Sunken Gardens has them on display! You get lost in the tropical forest there, with no hope of finding your way back. 








Small glimpses of Eden at the Sunken Gardens

  • We had a lunch snack at the Doc Ford’s Rum Bar and Grille right at the pier. The place was an absolute zoo on a holiday (there is definitely no Covid19 anymore, folks!), but The Eagles (who we had just seen in concert in Greensboro only 4 days before our trip) music was blasting and our waiter, Patrick, knew how to serve up pina coladas and yummy crab cake appetizers. 


Beach fare at Doc Ford's Rum

  • Not sure if this is all of Florida, but at least St. Petersburg on a busy, warm afternoon in the blazing sun is a pure stench cocktail:  the smells of the ocean, salt, sewage, and sweat mix together in the most distinctive odor. 

  • The area around the St. Pete Pier reminded me of so many other public touristy piazzas where jokers, dancers, mimes, religious orators trying to save your soul merge to remind you that this world is nothing but Babylon redone: we saw  people walking a tightrope as they were practicing yoga in a park, people stringing hammocks from palm trees on the bay, and a crowd of people dancing on club techno music, as if in a reinvented version of the 1990’s MTV’s Spring Break shows. 

  • You know you’re in Florida when you drive on what seems to be a highway but you see nothing but water all around you, not a lick of civilization, for miles on end. Only in Florida do you drive endlessly on ... water. We saw this sign while getting ready to drive on one of the many bridges that read: “Long bridge ahead. Check gas.” And I thought running out of gas in the middle of the desert in Utah would be bad ... 


This was a weekend of strange coincidences. As coincidences go, you never know what they mean. You just notice, if barely: we went to St. Petersburg for my birthday which is 4/9 - or 9/4 in Europe. The entire weekend, these two numbers kept popping up everywhere:

  • The Starbucks we finally had a small breakfast at on 4/9 was at the corner of 4th St N and 9th Ave N. Its address was 900A 9th Ave N. 

  • When I woke up that morning, I had 9 tabs open on my google app.

  • Chihuly’s Macchia Forest collection has 9 pieces in it.

  • At the end of the day, I had walked 4.09 miles, according to my watch.

  • Our departure gate was number 90. The very last one. 



Chihuly’s Macchia Forest with the 9 pieces

Seeing the Dali museum was the purpose of this trip and that did not disappoint. Everything else was just the cherries on top. 



Sunset over St. Pete, as seen from The Teak restaurant on the St. Pete Pier