Dali Nostalgia

Today I went to the mall during my lunch hour, and decided to grab some Chicknuggets. I walked past a perfume store on the way to the food court, and was almost knocked over by a mixture of every fragrance inside. It's an odor that can give you a sick headache, make you see stars, and most definitely... make you dream of being in Paris. For twelve years I visited Paris a minimum of twice a year. Now I haven't walked in her streets, and past her military-strength perfumeries in two years, except vicariously as the hibou spectateur. Elle me manque.

An odor can be awful and nostalgic at once, and the great dissonant cacophony of perfumes I smelled today was both. The only thing worse than smelling such a great melange of perfumes at once is smelling a perfume of great significance by itself that moves you in some way. For example, Old Spice that immediately brings images of my grandfather in his overalls; the smell of Beautiful that I identified with an old friend who succumbed to cancer at the age of sixteen; the smell of Roy de Soleil which brings me to this poem by Edmond Haraucourt (1856-1941) called Le Miroir:

L'odeur de vous flottait dans l'air silencieux:

J'ai vu la chambre vide et la table laissée,

Le livre où palpitait encore votre pensée,

Le miroir qui lui sait comme un morceau des cieux.

Alors, seul, je me suis incliné vers ces choses,

Et j'ai pieusement, de mes deux levres closes,

Baisé sur le miroir la place de vos yeux.*

*My not so poetic translation:

Your fragrance floated in the still air:

I saw your empty room and your things on the table,

The book where your thoughts still palpitated,

The mirror that knows you like the stars in the sky.

So, being alone, I leaned toward your things,

And piously with my two closed lips,

Kissed the mirror at the place your eyes had been.

Alex P. Keaton attends the May Daze Rally

I did something I have never done before last weekend. It was all quite by accident, but I met a friend of a friend who took me to the May Daze Rally. I thought we were going to a bar, but it turns out it was a motorcycle rally.

I walked in and the first thing I saw were two girls duking it out. "That is my friend P," she said as P got punched. I was reassured that I would not get beat up, that fights are rare, and are usually between females. It was the only fight I saw while at the rally.

I walked by rows and rows of tents and motorcycles. Most everyone looked cool and tough in their bandannas and Harley brand boots, beards, long hair, and piercings. I felt out of place with my Alex P. Keaton look, but no one said anything derogatory. In fact, amazingly, I met so many nice people that I still can't believe it.

Maybe it was because I was introduced as a rally virgin everywhere I went. People laughed briefly, but then usually shook my hand or patted me on the shoulder and said things such as 'welcome brother,' 'when you gonna buy a ride?', 'what do you think so far?', and 'have a beer on me.' I was amazed at the amount of professionals I met: real estate agents, drug reps, and accountants. I guess they are normal people who want to live their weekends on a bike.

After making the rounds and talking with people into the night, I became mesmerized by a young lady that was singing folk songs and playing the guitar around a camp fire. She sounded so much like Janice Joplin, and she was so confident in her singing and playing. She drew a small crowd of very appreciative listeners, and sang into the night.

The hot sun woke me up in my tent the next morning, and I felt like I had been run over like a freight train. I had managed about two hours of sleep. I was starving, and had to pass on the Bloody Marys that were making their way around the camp fire. There was really no need for a fire at this point, but it was still smoldering, and still the focal point of the camp.

I am definitely glad for the experience of attending the May Daze Rally. Does that mean I am in the market for a bike? No, Alex P. Keaton is not a one percenter, not yet. It felt really good to get back home away from the sounds and smells of the rally to nurse my hangover in peace.

Reason 4: Destination Times

Most of the destinations we visited had an allotted time window of 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM. Also, keep in mind that it takes almost an hour to get off the boat, and up to an hour to get back on, especially when the destination is one requiring a boat to ferry you from the docks.

This short period of time is just enough to get around to the dockside shops, eat lunch, and either purchase an excursion or spend a short time at the beach. This brief passage does not allow the visitor to really visit the country.

I like Margaritaville as much as anyone else, but if you only visit Margaritaville at each stop have you really visited the country? Do you really have a sense of the people and culture of the country by riding ATV's through the jungle? Have you become enriched by your experiences of shopping at Guess?

Out of the three destinations on the cruise: Jamaica, Grand Cayman Island, and Cozumel, I feel I only know the Mexican culture, having spent several weeks there. Its almost as if I never visited Jamaica or Grand Cayman Island.

Many people are scared to travel. They go and they can't wait to return home. They expect to see the things they see everyday: McDonald's, Margaritaville, KFC, Starbucks and the ubiquitous outlet shops. Outside of that comfort zone, people become frightened. They become pretentious over what they see as cultural inferiority, i.e. "They served me water, and it didn't even have ice. It was ridiculous;" "I'm American, you can't talk to me that way;" "If it wasn't for us, you'd be speaking German right now;" "Why can't you just speak English?"

I have heard their comments and seen the look on their faces. That is unfortunate, because for the rest of us, the ones with true wanderlust know that it is only outside this comfort zone that you can be rewarded and enriched through your travels.

In my opinion, there is little, if any time to venture outside the comfort zone on a cruise, and for that reason, I opine it is not real travel. It is not a real event. It is almost as vicarious as watching T.V. It is sterile; It is bland.

Reason 3: Alcohol and Gratuities

When we first boarded the vessel, it was announced that our rooms were not ready, and we would need to go to the pool deck to wait. My party gathered around a few tables on deck and shortly after, a server started setting drinks decorated with the obligatory umbrellas in front of everyone. Someone asked, "What is this?" Someone else suggested that, "maybe it is a welcome drink like in Mexico." I took one sip of the drink, found it too sweet, and pushed it away. A few minutes later the man returned with a tab for the drink: $7.50 plus 15% gratuity. In a novel, we would call this foreshadowing. Now we just arrived, and I wanted to be cool, so I paid for it. As the week progressed, my party and I became more and more cynical about the gratuities.

The cruise line pushed alcohol like it was going out of style. Conversations were constantly interrupted so we could say, "does it really look like I need more beer? I have a bucket right in front of me." When the elevator doors opened, there was most likely a server holding a tray full of drinks. The pushers were in the lobby, in the halls, in the casino, at lunch, and at dinner. Someone in my group joked that when he stepped out of the shower there was a guy with a tray full of drinks waiting for him.

Water was around $3.50 plus 15% gratuity. Soda was around $2.00 plus 15% gratuity. Beer was between $4.50 and $6.00 plus 15% gratuity. Everything we did involved a 15% gratuity.

Additionally, I was told it illegal to bring your own alcohol on board. Hypothesis: the cruise lines hired guns to go to Washington, and lobby the legislators to protect their vessels from terrorism by forbidding passengers to bring their own Molotov cocktails. Yes, if you want to make a Molotov cocktail you must pay the cruise lines their exorbitant fee and 15 % gratuity.

Oh, on top of the nearly $200 I spent on gratuities throughout the week, I was charged an additional $70 in gratuities at the end, and given an envelope explaining that my gratuities did not cover certain people, and I should give additional gratuities to them. On top of the astronomical prices that were charged just because they could, the gratuity system left a bad taste in my mouth.

Shore Excursion

When I started writing this blog, the idea was to discuss cultural issues. I really didn't care who read it, it was mostly for a personal release from the anti-cultural prison I live in. Not many people regularly read my blog, except my circle- howdy y'all.

Now that I have propounded a few entries about cruises, a few others have read the latest entries. I write about cruises because in my opinion, they are a pseudo-cultural event disguised as a cultural event. Now I have some people wanting to make comments such as, "check out this website on cruise information, its free, its fast, its easy, no obligation, call now and we will throw in not one oar, but two." No offense to anyone, but I am trying to take a critical look at cruise lines, not sell cruises. Also, if you love, love, love cruises, then by all means, bon voyage to you, start your own blog touting cruises. You are a big fan of Smokey the Steam Pipe? Tryouts are coming soon, knock yourself out.

If on the other hand you agree or disagree with the substance of what I am saying, or just want to say, "I'm king of the world," I will gladly publish your comments. Thanks.

Reason 2: False Chic Dinners

Being a bon viveur, I am truly excited about all things Gourmet. That's why the first night at dinner the menu stated the meals were the brain child of Jacques* something-or-another straight out of France, I was prepared to be amazed. The menu made my mouth water. I chose the smoked Salmon, lamb chops and crème brûlée.


First off I was not the sole person at my table to choose the smoked salmon. Another lady across from me said she had always wanted to try it, but never had. The smoked salmon had a hard texture and tasted funny. "I don't see why people rave about smoked salmon," the lady said pushing her plate away. She was right, it was not edible. Maybe she would have reacted the same to a proper smoked salmon, but in her mind this was a proper smoked salmon.


The lamb too cooked. There was not even a bit of pink. Shamefully, I had ordered the most expensive red wine on the menu (a Bourgogne) thinking it would go well with good lamb chops. About this time, I heard a load thump, and thought the boat hit something. In retrospect I know it was simply Escoffier rolling over in his grave.


Well at least there is the single most important food ever created by man, the crème brûlée. In my opinion, crème brûlée should be its own food group. The top of the crème brûlée was caramelized and beautiful. I cracked into the beautiful burnt sugary crust and all seemed well. I raised my spoon to my mouth, and discovered the creme was not smooth and creamy, but curdled, and egg smelling. Again, the person trying crème brûlée for her first time would probably assume this was crème brûlée.

I visited the dining room two more times before swearing it off, and eating hamburgers, Chinese food, and sandwiches for the rest of the trip. At least the cooks would be hard-pressed to screw those up. It was disheartening, but necessary for survival.

Sometimes phrases in French can more easily describe what had happened to the cuisine on this ship: Ils veulent péter plus haut que leurs culs.

*Some French name, you get the picture.