Retro Elsa

Modeling for quite a few years now I've had my hair and makeup done in many ways. Not all of it works well with my ethnic features (read: my Basque nose and big bedroom eyes). But once in a while the stars align and voila! I come out with something that tickles me pink!

 

This video was shot after modeling bridal gowns all weekend in Orange County. I returned to have dinner at my parents and where I am caught on camera (oh man - I didn't mean to sound bossy - I was being silly) modeling my 1920s 'do and makeup.

Upon returning home to Patrick he broke out his camera like he usually does when I come home full of hair and makeup to shoot some impromptu shots. I love these shots as they remind me of an old picture I've seen of my grandmother Araiza looking as glamorous as possible in the heat and dirt of Mexico posing Hollywood style for the camera = = I obviously got a little bit of flair from her - amidst the modesty we were brought up with heheheh :) I'd also like to thank Patrick for his shots of me - they are fun and show a bright side of me that doesn't shine as often as it used to..
Click on slideshow below for more!

RetroElsa

Macys Runway - part 2

So what the heck are these short videos of runway? They would be the Macys Spring INC Trunk Show back on my 36th bday in May 2008. I barely got them off the camera a couple months ago and am barely getting them on utube. I find them fun as they are not high-fashion but a good lesson in down-to-earth runway walking - meaning playing to the crowd, having a good time, and being able to have personality - Tyra Banks and Americas Next Top Model fans take note: as she got more established she was able to get away with standing out and having personality instead of 'straight modeling'. In San Diego with most of the runway shows we do here they actually like a lot of personality - which is, incidentally, the biggest reason I get work in shows down here - super tall and super skinny and super young: I am NOT, but personality and being able to 'sell the clothes' - I can do...
Click on slideshow below!

Macys Spring Trunk Show

Venice Beach and Santa Monica

 

Again, I am very backlogged - or back-blogged, I should say. Here are some photos from 1.5 weeks ago at my reunited trip to Los Angeles with Patrick.

You may have read we attended an unforgettable and unique concert of the shoe-gazing genre group, "My Bloody Valentine" in Santa Monica on October 1. We had barely enough time to check into our charming (but not cheap) hotel, The Venice Beach Suites, before going to the concert. The hotel was fabulous - right on the famous boardwalk. I imagine during the summer months it must be jumping with noise. We were there on a quiet Wednesday night in the Fall, so we didn't quite have the ambiance that I think P was looking for in order to take pictures - but more on that later.

We simultaneously 'ohh'd and 'awww'd upon entering our room with real brick walls, a cute archway leading to the tiny kitchenette and mini fridge, a free bottle of Chianti wine and a darling old-fashioned heater in the corner next to the bed.

Back from the concert (I already blogged about that) we both scrambled to get pictures of that heater especially hehehe. A swell room, and yes, upon checking out we did take the complimentary bottle with us :)

 

Bright and early the next morning we arose to walk around and take pictures. If you read my blog at all or know us, you ought to know by now that Patrick is really learning wonderful skills as a photographer. You can click on his Flickr photo link to the right hand side of my blog to check out some of his work.

Patrick has invested in some serious equipment in the past 1.5 years. If you want a laundry list of the several cameras and lenses he has, again, I say go to his Flickr profile where he lists what he has - I guess that is what the pros do on Flickr photosite.

That said, with said equipment and having just finished a 2 month photo class at UCSD, he is even better than before. I know he was hoping to get some great subject material in the interesting people that inhabit the Boardwalk and beach, but it was so early and midweek we didn't quite get what we both wanted. It also was extremely bright - not great for lighting purposes. That said, P finally got to spend time in Venice with the liberals and likes of star Angelica Huston walking her dog right next to us (I had to point it out, of course - because he won't admit it, but he gets a little starstruck - I tease, P, well-kinda).

Afterwards we drove up to and walked around the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica as well as the famous Pier. Back in my days of living in LA and pursuing acting, I used to love the Promenade - always full of life, great shopping, and people-watching, and then a sunset walk at the top of the cliffs overlooking the ocean and pier. Since this is a journal of my life, first and foremost I admit remembering that the Promenade was the location of my first date with my boyfriend of 10 years ago or so - Mark, the writer/publicist - where we shared an umbrella and dashed romantically through the rain to grab our first drink and dinner together. The Promenade was also the sight of a not-too-proud moment of mine where while overlooking the famous ocean view from the cliffs, I broke up with writer/director/producer/actor Rick N. - my Hollywood connection and the reason I learned that even sweet Elsa from Bonita, California could move up to hard LA and try a career in Hollywood. Sadly, I broke up with him when I finally DID move up there - he would have been an amazing contact and relationship for me to have career-wise had I been raised to use people hehehe. So many stories I have to tell of the few that meant something in my life... sigh - one day I will get it all down on here... Come to think of it I have 100s of pages typed and printed out meticuously about Mark and Rick - hahaha such is how I used to do it in the old days... :)

Click on my slideshow below and see my pics using P's expensive real camera, his Canon digital!! And then go on his site and see some real photography :P

Venice Beach and Santa Monica

P gives in!!!?

I like to tease. My family teases each other a lot. I tease those I love. Let that segue to my Love: P. Republican. Conservative. Possibly brain-washed from his 21 years in the Military. He went to the NCLR Republican convention in San Diego a couple months ago and shook his nominee's hand, shouting, "I'm With YOU, John!" He is a card-holding supporter of the McCain campaign. My guy has taught me mucho about the Party.

Shoot - he even has an 8x10 picture of McCain and Palin held up by a magnet on his fridge - right next to a pic of his photogenic daughter and dog.

Well, 2 weeks ago we went to Venice Beach in Los Angeles (you may have read my blog about going to the My Bloody Valentine concert at nearby Santa Monica.)

Venice is uber liberal and I have pics and a blog yet to write about it all - stay tuned.

Until then - enjoy this hilarious pic of P playing the good sport!! :P

Birthday Shout-Out: my P

 

Never thought I'd fall in love with a tatooed ex-Navy, ex-punk from Ireland he he he. Here's a swell picture of Patrick undoubtedly pondering the meaning of life at his ripe old age of 42!!! Felicidades, Mi Amor :P

P loosens up at STIFF Concert

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While I have music and concerts on my mind, I decided to blog about a concert Patrick and I went to a few weeks ago at the House of Blues. It was one of his favorite Punk bands, Stiff Little Fingers, from his region of Northern Ireland.

The evening started out on a good note - while we were waiting in line to buy tickets there, a gal suddenly came up waving 2 and said, "I've got free tickets!" We were too slow (probably from shock) and the 20-something kid in front of us snatched them to find out a couple minutes later that there were 2 concerts going on that night and he was attending the other one. So his friend turned to us and said, "You can have them, they aren't for our concert." But the taller one who first snatched them literally held onto them for a few seconds and we could just see him greedily adding up in his mind how much he could sell them to us for. Please - the concert was around $20 bucks. And not selling out, so he wasn't going to make anything from us. The shorter friend read his mind, and ordered, "Dude - just give them the tickets!" Which he did - begrudgingly.

So we happily entered and ordered a drink while people-watching before the show started. One could see a few aged punks in the crowd of dressed-in-black alternative kids and T-shirt wearing men like P in their 40s. (note - I wore jeans and a dark t-shirt too, but I am sure I stood out by a mile he he he). There weren't many women there, let's just say.

I love Patrick's stories from growing up in Ireland and he commented to me that when he was about 12 or 13, the older boys about 16 would come up to all the young boys and demand to know if they liked and followed "Stiff Little Fingers". And if the 12 year old was naive or for some reason didn't like punk and answered, "no", then the older boys would punch and slug him. Let's just say that the Irish (especially those in Northern occupied Ireland) seemed very loyal of their region's great punk band.

At last the band came out and started - P, had, of course seen them a few times previously. I have to admit for some older guys they could strum some seriously quick guitar licks but it was not without raised eyebrow that the band looked vastly different than their heyday - see video above. The lead singer Jake even joked about it, "Now we're fat and 50!"

Still, the crowd really enjoyed it, and I am not above enjoying the music and atmosphere. Very interestingly was P pointing out the dynamics of the mosh pit. As the concert first started there were about 5 guys center and up front who were doing the 'pogo' jumping-up-and-down dance that punk invented. Halfway through the concert and with the alcohol starting to be felt they switched to moshing on the popular songs. As I commented to P having seen one mo-hawked, angry-looking 40ish punk, 'That one punk has been waiting all night to start moshing."

It was true. And here was where P pointed out the dynamics of the pit. He noted how no one really was pushing or slamming into Mo-Hawk because he was obviously OG (original) and not there to play. He was violent and probably wouldn't care if he hurt someone or got hurt himself. That said, the younger boys and 1 girl who were also moshing on an adrenaline high were running around in the small circle pushing each other excitedly - but not out for blood. Meanwhile, the rest of the standing crowd - like us - served as a barrier and anytime anyone fell out of step of the mosh circle, the barrier would just push them back in.

On the final encore of the night, SLF played P's favorite song (the video above) and in the blink of an eye he disappeared from my side to ....join the pit!!!! I was half-screaming and half-laughing as I stood on tippy toes desperately trying to keep an eye on his bobbing head in the circle of violence. "NOOOOOOO!" It was hilarious to see him do something I'd heard stories about when he was a teen but to see my man at 41 pushing and slamming into others and then eventually losing sight of him altogether was just awesome!! he he he

When he returned to me triumphantly he was breathing heavily, and soaked with sweat - I hate to admit that it wasn't just his sweat on him. When we got home Fred-the-basset was intrigued by all the different smells of sweat on his owner and heavily sniffed him from head to foot, thus also partaking in our entertaining evening of fine Irish punk music. :P

From Aliens to Craters - "Beam me up, Scotty"

 

Editor's Note - It's a strange headline - but it makes perfect sense if you follow my previous blogs on Death Valley... he he he
After our impromptu photoshoot at Racetrack Playa, P and I packed up and set off around 8:30am back on the dusty, slow dirt road back towards the one main (and paved) road that cuts across the entire Death Valley from one park entrance to the next (a 1.5-2 hour drive in itself). It was growing quite hot already and the road was incredibly dusty - since we had driven down at sunset the previous day we didn't realize how painstakingly slow and hot it was during the day. P's windshield actually developed a large crack from the shuddering and vibrations of the car going s-l-o-w-l-y over the dirt, bumpy road. (Shoot - Good thing we had a great night alone with the stars and good pictures for P to make the damage worth it).

Park Rangers warn people that cars can overheat on that road and you need extra tires if they should go flat. Well, we did run into the abandoned army jeep of the weird guy alone in fatigues that we had passed the night before. Evidently, on his return his car didn't make it and he tried to start walking back all the way (about 30 miles) towards the paved road - - incidentally, this is exactly what they tell you NOT to do. They tell you to stay with your car and with water and food, hopefully, and eventually in the next day or so someone will be making the off-road drive to the Playa and can pick you up. We never saw him on the road back so either he got picked up or the cannibalistic "These Hills Have Eyes" people or aliens came down and ate him!!! (Insert the cascading musical sound effect here: Duh-duh-DUHHH!!!!)

As we almost reached our glorious, paved road we sidetracked shortly to the top of the Ubehebe crater to check out the view. (By the way: I LOVED repeating over and over the name "Ew-buh-hay-bee - so much fun - try it!) The crater was from a volcanic eruption that left a several-mile radius of black, dry lava on either side of the unpaved dirt road. I hadn't seen any lava fields except for in Maui a couple years back so this was pretty cool to look at.
After the crater we got back on the real road and wound ourselves up a hillside to a natural oasis (I have always loved that word, too) with probably an acre of lush grass, believe or not, growing amidst some tall palm trees and other man-planted trees. Next to that was the tourist destination of "Scotty's Castle".

 

Death Valley Scotty told everyone that he built this castle in the hidden canyons of Death Valley. But that was not quite the truth. Albert Mussey Johnson, Chicago millionaire businessman, built his "Death Valley Ranch" in the cool of Grapevine Canyon and he let his cowboy mining partner, Scotty, live there as a guest. Ahhhh, it's a bit more than a white lie, Scotty, okaayy?? Scotty's Castle is a fantasy house. We didn't pay to take the guided tour, but one can still freely walk the grounds and take pictures and see the now empty huge swimming pool that rivals the Hearst Castle one we saw last summer. We also went up to the stables which have now been turned into a 'garage' of sorts of some of the old cars and wagons used during that time around the 1920s. Fantastic and interesting!

Click below for slide show!

Death Valley - Ubehebe Crater & Scotty's Castle

My Favorite Easter Moment

  Here is a picture of me crying happy tears and my Irishman grinning like I've never seen him before (isn't he just purty? - sigh) whilst my mom and dad give us their blessing...

Ironically, as the day-after Araiza family get-together emails and pictures began today, my mother mentioned her favorite moment at easter was the singing together and the good food.

I wrote back and I qoute, "umm: the real best part about Easter was my dad announcing to the family Patrick and Elsa's ENGAGEMENT!!! helllooooo!! (See how it stinks to be the baby of a huge family?? By now the novelty has worn off). Well, I ain't no spring chicken but at least I am not going to be a crazy old maid with cats any longer.....!!!"

Enough said!

Be My Valentine

  Well, shoot - P put his foot down and, although without any romantic fanfare (or even presented on V day, itself): went conventional on me and bought his gal a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a single rose after all.... :)

**Editor's Note - of course the gesture was sweet and appreciated (he he he I woulda killed him had he spent more on me). But perhaps he was also making up for my UTTER DISAPPOINTEMENT from the night before when he and I, accompanied by his Irish guest, Billy, and my friend (and sometimes blog-subject) Richele went to the club "Shooters" in North Park for 80s Night to find it gutted and closed!!! Absolutely shocked and saddened am I - can't a mid-30s broad just get her 80s 'skank' dancing on???? :(

Thanks for being my Valentine, P. Love you...

Valentine's Day of Love, Friendship (and SKAKEDOWN)

Hee hee hee. If you don't know what I mean by the term "shakedown" please refer to this previous blog here.

 





So tomorrow is Valentine's Day. It will be my 2nd with Patrick. And for the 2nd year we will be doing nothing to celebrate it. Last year we had his daughter Ciara that night. This year we have his childhood friend, Billy, visiting from Ireland - whew hew - I get to hear P's Irish accent come out (he only uses it with his Irish 'peeps').

I read that the average amount of money that men spend on their women on V Day is $122.79. Holy frijoles! Our plan tomorrow night is to go to 80s Night (loyal elsamart readers know I just LOVE my 80s music) up the street at the North Park bar/disco "Shooters". Totally radical - I can't wait to put my dancing shoes on! Shoot - maybe I will make P pay my $5 cover charge - he he he.

That said: I'm in love, I love my God, family and cat, too. In fact I love many things in this life and world and I am appreciative of the friends and family I have - including you: my readers around the world - so consider yourself all my Valentines ... and none of you have to buy me dinner! Hugs and Kisses!!!

San Fran - continued....

Editor's Note: Shame on me for not getting this posted right after my wedding blog, but my mind is cluttered with things to do. In any case, please excuse my not posting in chronological order lately.

In any case, the morning after Jake and Rosa's wedding in San Fran 2 weeks ago, Patrick and I had the luxury of strolling about town, taking in the sights and stopping by the Chinese restaurant, Sam Wo, in China Town.Truly a hole-in-the-wall you actually enter through the kitchen and head upstairs to a few run down tables and booths. It ain't pretty but it's fascinating. One single waitress, a middle-aged Chinese woman literally exploded with energy back and forth, up and down, even working an old-fashioned pulley that the kitchen staff used to hoist up the food on a tray so she wouldn't have to go downstairs. The restaurant is an old haunt and favorite of Patrick's parents (who met in San Francisco). He even remembers them going often when he was a little boy. Evidently there was even a now deceased infamous waiter who was extrememly grouchy and awful to the customers - it is said his 'rudeness was legendary'. The food is also great and remarkably cheap. A definite treasure.

After that bit we took the very efficient Bart underground where I emerged into the gay Castro District. Whew hew - E loves the gay part of town - wherever I might be! After window shopping and enjoying myself watching P being checked out, we eventually met up with Dick - his 2nd cousin on his paternal side.

Thus ensued a most lovely afternoon spent in the gracious and intelligent company of this old gent - they hadn't seen each other in about 8 years. Dick is extremely well-read and intelligent, getting old (in his 80s I believe) but his mind and memory are as spry as ever. He is essentially a walking encyclopedia. His house was quaint and full of character - with a fridge from the 1950s, artwork and absolutely congested with books (his passion) that were alphabetized and categorized according to subject matter.
As we got a tour of the house Dick would have stories about the Merritt family and Patrick as a teen, as well as P's father. At one point he pulled out an old family photo which I tried to take a picture of as you can see. Dick is but a boy in the photo - it was a family-party and he told stories of that day - how the African American maid was sneaking yellow colored, tulip-shaped ice cream to the kids, etc.
As we ohh'd and ahh'd over the picture and listened to the stories, both P and I squinted at the same time at the top right image of his grandfather - looking just like his Dad over in Ireland!! We were amazed at the likeness in expression and heavy eyebrows. Very cool...
We really had such a wonderful time. Dick is so polite, well-spoken and interesting with a sense of humour as well (he and Patrick do not see eye-to-eye when it comes to politics especially). hahaha.

It is times like the afternoon we spent that I really get inspired to interview and get the history and family tree down from the elders in the family. Especially the wonderful stories - when Dick is gone, so much will be lost within that great memory of his. It was as Patrick smiled and complimented him as we left, "You're a dying breed, Dick.."

Simple Pleasures

I once wrote a blog (see previous) about simple pleasures. Nowadays one can get very caught up in the many gadgetry, technical toys to play with. Perhaps it's a good thing to be reminded that quality time with loved ones doesn't require anything more than simply getting outdoors.

A couple weekends ago I told Patrick and his daughter, Ciara, that I was taking them to one of my favorite places in the afternoon. Ciara was bouncing around pleading, like any 8-year-old would, for me to tell her where I was taking them. I ignored her and told her after we did some chores around the house we would go.

Eventually I corralled everyone into my Scion car and I drove us to La Jolla Cove. I have always loved this place. It's great. You can go down into the sandy cove to the beach if you like, or stay dry and have a picnic in the grassy park. Or perhaps you choose to climb around the big rocks on another part of the beach or simply stroll along the sidewalk along the top of the cliffs and enjoy the view of the waves and people from above. Ciara had a blast and of course opted to go running into the water. Then we searched the tidepools while Patrick took some great shots of the big waves crashing. It was such a lovely afternoon - reminded me of my childhood when Sundays after church were always Family Day and my mom would pack a picnic and we'd drive the 8 of us to the beach, park, mountains or somewhere in nature. We are so blessed to live in such a beautiful city with nice weather and I was so pleased to share it with my special ones.

At the end of the day I commented to P, "Wasn't that a lovely afternoon?" And he answered, "Yes... it was all about simple pleasures."

Simple Pleasures

Click to watch on slideshow :)

Only shots at Shooters

So last night, Patrick and I ventured down the street to "Shooters" bar/club on 30th Street, in the heart of North Park, San Diego. I've only gone 3 times before and enjoy my Thursday nights because it's "80s Night". And if you've been reading my blog you ought to know by now that Elsa loves her 80s music!

As we sipped our Citron-Tonics the sad fact was not lost on us that it was the least crowded we had ever seen it. Well, it did get better by the time we were leaving around midnight but it just plum made us sad. The music was great: hits from Duran Duran, Pet Shop Boys, Midnite Drexy Runners, Falco, A-Ha, Devo - to name a few. Also there is no cover charge to get into the bar with pool tables and a minescule $5 to get into the actual dance floor club - they are playing the same music on both sides.

So P and I just don't get it. The club is situated in a great, central part of town, plenty of parking, great nostalgic music, a choice to go to the dance floor portion or stay on the calmer side of the bar, no waiting in line out in the cold to make it look like it's packed (like they do in the fru fru clubs downtown). Even the drinks aren't expensive. And we know there are plenty of 30 and 40-somethings that are huge 80s fans who would enjoy the atmosphere and music. I mean, I dont' even know of anohter club that does all 80s nights off the top of my head.

Such a shame... I'm afraid that if it doesn't pick up they might do away with my beloved 80s Nights there. And where else can I get my 'skank' dance on where it's appreciated???!!!

Freakin' Fred

This blog entryis for all those crazy dog-loving owners out there. I need help. My boyfriend, Patrick, thank God has returned safely back from spending the holidays in Ireland with his family. I was meanwhile dog sitting El-Fred AKA Fred-the-Love-Machine for 10 days. Now this is the not the first time my readers have heard me mention Fred. Fred is P's basset hound, you know: hush puppy? I gotta tell you: I love animals and I am good to them. And heaven knows, I am good to this hound. But he is so emotionally high-maintenance!

First of all he is King of the Roost (or P's home) and MINE when he comes to visit. He plops himself anywhere he likes, whines this pitiful plea to jump on beds and spoon, (oh and he has 2 big, comfy doggy beds of his own!!). When I first met Patrick, Fred was fatter. I used to fondly refer to him as "Fat Fred". ha ha ha. I started taking him out on daily walks (something P shame shame was not doing!!) Fred has, indeed, lost weight. But the walks are painful! First of all he is a hound. That means he has tracking and sniffing in his blood. Also, those little short legs of his means his head is right there basically at ground level. So, our walks are basically him with his wet nose to the ground sniffing everything. I mean.....EVERYTHING!! And this dog may be small but he weighs in at a solid 75 pounds. And he is strong and stubborn on that leash. So if he catches a scent that he needs to check out: I can huff and puff and pull but he is so strong he pulls ME to where he wants to go.

He also has a tiny, oh, shall we say itty bitty problem of NOT being potty-trained completely yet!!! And he is 3 and a half! Ciara, Patrick's daughter, defends him saying he is just a puppy. HECK NO, HE AIN'T!! That dog failed obedience school and Patrick and Ciara spoiled him rotten with kisses and love when he was this puppy with big, long ears and dark droopy eyes. Well, now he is big, and goes to the bathroom leaving BIG messes inside the house at times (ruining P's gorgeous hardwood floor). Patrick admits that Fred only seems to do it when he is rebelling against something. Sometimes he won't do it for days...then BAM! A week of it straight! And there is no excuse - he has a doggy door.

Ah.. Fred. Fred is nicknamed 'Love Machine" because this breed is not that common around these parts and he gets so much attention out in public for his cuteness - which he KNOWS he possesses. (P undoubtedly back when he was single picked this breed for the utter CHICK MAGNET that he is!!) GEEZ!!! This dog especially LOVES women! He trots right up to any strange lady and rolls over for her to pet his stomach. I mean, he has no shame - it's almost embarrassing! I told Patrick and he agrees that, although happy, that dog would go off with the prettiest 20-40 year -old woman in a snap and not look back!

So let's see. He is a chick magnet but he is great with kids. He gets tired fast on those little legs but he can get fat quickly and bitches if he doesn't get his walks from me. He follows me all around my house or P's house. He loves and licks Jordy-the-cat all over but he isn't potty trained. He let's himself get molested by this big black poodle at the dog park and ignores Patrick completely until he is ready to go home. He is a very vocal dog - he "talks" to me and P all the time. And we can tell when he is disgruntled with us by how he semi-growls, yips and grunts. I mean, he definitely has some beef with us and wants to let us know. Walks are all about him, I am just along for the ride. And lastly: did I mention - he has a problem with rolling in other dog's crap??? If it's there, he goes in for a shoulder dive - I have learned to look out for his diving posture after having to bathe him a couple times.

And where is his real owner all this time? Shoot. Patrick has let me take control of that dog. Heck. He is SO fascinated by his hound that he overlooks all the insanity. Sometimes I see P sitting on the couch just staring at Fred's antics or bitching, happy as can be. He adores his "Little Man" so much that I have NO doubt that I'd be sent packing if I didn't like Fred as much as I do or if Fred didn't accept me.

Shoot - give me my easy cat any day. Cats are independent. And small. And not loud. Or stinky. (sigh) :)

Does anyone else out there have a basset hound or other dog so crazy?? (Di - I know you got a 'horse', er Rottweiler you keep inside your house). I'd appreciate any suggestions or advice. Leave a comment so I don't feel all alone in the insanity that which is Fred.

click on Fred's slideshow!

Fred-the-Love-Machine

Today I fell in love with you again...

At your 'best and strongest'
I realized that I loved you
even more than I thought I did...

For everything that you are to me, thank you.

The Incan Trail

On our 3rd day in Peru Patrick and I were to awake early in order to be picked up by our tour and the rest of our fellow hikers to begin the 3.5 luxury bus-drive to the beginning of the Incan Trail. After having asked Patrick the night before to make sure (you can all see where I am going with this) that his alarm was set for 4:20am (they were coming at 5) I opened my eyes the next morning to.....daylight. Not full-on sunshine, but that said I knew it was a lot lighter than it should have been at, oh say 4:20!!! "Patrick...?" I woke him up, "What time is it???" "Curses!!" (Well, he didn't say that but he DID curse). Both of us jumped up to see it was indeed about 5 minutes till 5! Fabulous. Good one, Patrick. If I hadn't woken up myself who knows what would have happened.

After the morning drama of us getting our stuff together and downstairs (while trying to grab some of the free daily breakfast buffet that the hotel offered), we finally set off on the road to get to the Incan Trail. Andean Life was our tour and they ended up being even better than expected for the mid-range tour price - about $300 per person which included 4-days camping/hiking, our english-speaking Quechan guide, Romelo; 10 porters carrying the food, cooking equipment and tents and our fellow troop which consisted of 2 aussies, 3 brits, 1 german and us.I was most pleased with our WONDERFUL porters and our troop couldn't have been any cooler than the hip, game 20-somethings (I was in my element being with a bunch of foreigners). Meals were full of laughter and stories from everyone as we fortunately all truly got along very well. Our porters took great care of us: the food (from our 23 year old cook) was AMAZING: several courses made at each meal and TONS of it. Not to mention afternoon tea with bisquits (cookies) and popcorn (the Brits loved that special touch). We couldn't believe what could be made in that little cooking tent they would pitch next to our dining tent. Plus, they would do that on top of having trotted (that is: slowly jogged) past us bent over double on the way to the next plain packed up 3 feet high with bulky tents and such. We were amazed at their calves and the fact that these tiny indians (ranging in age from 18-46) had such strength. I hated that they essentially were pack mules - but the fact was that it is a high paying job for them and we made sure to tip them very generously on top of that. Like I mentioned previously: traveling in Peru is cheap, so I could be generous.In continuation, the porters would pass our hard-working selves on the trail and pitch our camp, make our meal and all the time - be it, day or night: take turns having one of them posted as guard by our sleeping tents (as bandits have been known to rob hikers). They really were remarkable and I understood from other hikers that they were not as pleased with their tours: leaky tents, not good food or attention paid. When our 2 British gals were put in an awkward situation with a rude porter from one of the other tours at one of the pit stops it was OUR porters who sought him out, surrounded him and confronted him (getting him fired from his good-paying job).

The Incan Trail, itself, is not a hike for the wimpy, out of shape, or prissy. It can be tough if you are over 30. One must be ready for anything regarding the weather changing in a snap from a downpour (pulling on the rain poncho), to cold, to foggy ("don't fall off the cliff", our guide warned), to HOT. You pretty much always use the bathroom in the Great Outdoors (although there are a couple "toilets" on the route - holes in the ground with a door), you don't shower for days, you wear the same clothes pretty much since you can't afford to carry more than 1 change of clothes, and you sleep cold nights on the ground in tents.

That said I HIGHLY recommend tackling the adventure. Mother Nature is absolutely splendid in her various forms there: you hike through plains, to steep summits, valleys, jungles, rain forests, rocks, cloud forests, the River Urubamba running below... and the final destination of the mighty ruins of Machu Pichu are absolutely breath-taking! (Just remember that no matter how young and in shape you are - you WILL need a hiking stick). And after 4 days when we did finally reach Machu Pichu, I felt a lump in my throat (akin to when I passed the finish line of my 1st half-marathon at 30 years of age) of pride that we made it. An old running injury definitely made the going slow and quite painful at times, with everyone suffering on the 2nd day (the hardest hike - with 2 very steep climbs and very steep descents - muy painful on the knees). It was as Patrick commented as we admired the amazing ruins along with the other 100s of tourists who took a bus there - "We REALLY earned it!"
**click on picture below to see photo album!!

The Incan Trail 10.06

Cusco, Peru

*click on Patrick photo after blog entry to see Cusco photo album!!
After spending the entire night and getting stir-crazy with exhaustion at the airport in Lima we flew out bright and early to Cusco - get this - it is the OLDEST continuously-habited city in the American continent! We took it seriously when we read we needed 2-3 days to acclimate to the 3200m altitude before heading out to the Incan Trail. (My last trip I had lost an entire day suffering from very bad altitude sickness. It was miserable and there was no way I was going to risk that again - much less in the middle of our hike where turning around was impossible.) That said, we made sure to drink TONS of the coca-leaf tea that is free at all hotels and helps fight against altitude sickness (yes, I can officially say I've tried drugs now). I actually liked it so much that I wanted to buy a box of it at the store and bring it back before reading the label that "Americans will be thrown in jail for bringing back even the tea since it is a Grade A drug". Okay okay, I got the picture...

I love Cusco. Not only is its architecture beautiful but it is most interestingly laid out in the shape of a Puma. The natives are very kind, always smiling, and extremely hospitable. It could be far more down-trodden and 'kichy' considering it's where most of the tourists go since it is the only airport to fly into on the way to Machu Pichu.

As with most Latino cities there is a central garden or square that is not only picturesque but is lovely to just enjoy un helado (ice cream) or meal in one of the 2nd-story patio restaurants overlooking the view. Patrick and I simply sat on the steps in front of an old, beautiful church on our first day and people-watched.

Now, yes: we admit to going to the Irish Pub or having very tasty pizza while there but we did it all after earning it after our day hikes to the ruins of Sachsyhuaman (pronounced similar to "sexy woman") located outside the city in the hillsides, visiting Barranca - where the very cool artisan shops are, or renting Peruvain horses (how could I NOT adore this man since he is an ex-horseman like myself??!!), and riding the hillsides.

One of the most interesting sights is seeing the native Quechuan indian people in their colorful garb with their Alpaca (llamas) in tow carusing the cobble-stone streets amidst the bustle of tourist hostels and taxis. A little bit of the old mixed with the new...

Cusco, Peru 2006

Padraig go Bragh!

You know, Life sometimes can be interesting. It can play tricks and it can turn on you. The Truth is: I have always been a huge believer that God has a plan for all of us. It's a great way to have perspective on Life's twists. (And it certainly has made me accept the good and the bad that has occurred in my life). I always said things will drop in one's lap when you least expect - so stop looking!

I am not shy. I work very social jobs. I meet a lot of people. I am a real people person and have perfected being able to approach and talk to anyone. But, no doubt about it: I am not a kid anymore and I have been around the block. When it comes to men I decided at this point I knew I was pretty cynical (which has come to look a lot like Wisdom as I get older). Now, don't get me wrong - I have dated a couple lovely chaps in long-term relationships - and I think I'd be pretty good in a debate about not getting married until you've reached your 30s and HAVE dated more than 1 man - but I digress.

For 6 months now I have had the blessing and curses of falling for an Irishman with merry eyes. Why is it a blessing and a curse? Because, my friends - Love is very hard for a stubborn, creative, passionate and utterly unconventional woman like me. As much as I have to offer (how could I NOT, with the family that has raised me??) I have already put this lad through the ringer.

And you know what? He has forgiven and he has accepted. He once acknowledged to me, "It's because you have so much to give..." You've no idea what at this age and time in my life it means to me for someone to recognize my strength!

For the first time I have pictured myself with a life partner. For the first time I have met someone so wonderfully unique yet, conventional; challenging, yet, supportive.

He is responsible for some of my recent changes - without a doubt. Alas, he is also responsible for my being Happy and planning for a somewhat conventional future for the first time in my adult life.

Meet Patrick...