Big Beautiful Day in Budapest

Warning! alliteration with B's coming.

It was a busy day with a bus ride in Budapest today.

Weather: when we got around to go out for the day it was 69.  For you foreigners, that's 20 in dog years.  It got up to around 80...with bright sun (as you'll see from the pics) -- warm.

To begin: we started the day non-too early, except for vacationers, as no site opened till 10.

Here's a pic of breakfast:

EH tells me (there's a reason why she's "Encyclopedia Hicks," EH) that Hungarians love their donuts.  There's actually a listing of top 13 donut shops in Budapest.  NS!

The one in 2nd row down, center right, pink with black center, if you can read the label, is "Happy Poo."

And, Mrs H rightly reminded me of the Jim Gaffigan rift from his new Netflix special about getting caught bringing donuts into the country.  "You know you can get them here, right?" :)

Then to the bottom of the hill in Buda (we are on the Pest side) and the ride of the funicular.  Here's my video -- it would have been better if we'd gotten in the first car instead of the second.  But fun, nonetheless. 

From the top of Castle Hill, the views are amazing.  Here's one.  And here's the link the photo album for the first two days (link):

 We spent a bunch of time in the Hungarian Historical Museum, based around the ruins and not-so-ruins of Buda [not Pest] Castle.  What we learned (adding to EH status): Hungary has spent most of its known history being someone else's b***h.  :).  They even credit the HUNS!  NS!  Then to the Angevins for a few centuries.  There was a Luxemborg prince.  A whole line of Polish kings.  And we shouldn't forget either a century under the Ottomans, another under the Hapsburgs, the Soviets...bleep, I could go on and on.

That they have any real history left is kinda amazing.   And, on top of that, the dumbasses tried to blow up and destroy part of the castle foundation during a construction project in the 50s!  Sheesh.

But our favorite line went something like this about the Soviet era: "the design of this space was bleak and soulless."  Uh huh.  Proud of THAT heritage, say what.

Then we went for a Hop On/Hop Off bus.

This led to today's "can't you be more stupid" tourist "moment."  We were told by a cashier who spoke something like English (we neither speak anything like Magyar, the language here, so she was WAY ahead of us :)) that the stop was down the hill.  We found the stop and the sign had a 3 on the poster.  Stop #3.  Got it.

We waited over half an hour, and we thought the buses were half an hour apart.  After some thinking and wondering, I finally figured out that the 3 was in a black circle and the black circle meant the black line, which, LO AND BEHOLD!  was the NIGHT line!  It wasn't coming for hours.

We walked down to the base of the hill, found sign #20, had "lunch" (I had apple strudel, EH had some green s**t on a pastry, seasoned, I was told, with paprika (wait for it -- this will become a thing soon).

We then rode for an hour.

Two things worth mentioning we saw on the ride: the St. Margrit's Bridge takes an 150 degree turn in the middle of the river (on St. Margrit's Island).   I've never seen such a thing.  Bizarre.

And there are parts of Pest, designed by a Frenchman in the 19th century, that remind you of the boulevards like Hauptmann in Paris.  Unlike the Parisians, they allow gaudy signs and wires for things like street lights and public transport, but the broad avenues with those design buildings have that feel.

Then off, near the hotel.  We then stopped for official lunch, which avid readers will remember from last summer's California trip.  That's EH with her mango strawberry ice cream.  Lunch of the gods.  Okay, in chocolate, it's lunch of the gods.  Mango.  Yuck.

 Not far from the ice cream we found!  this is the Michael memorial picture -- "oh, s**t! there's a Starbucks here."  Wait till you see the picture of the Hard Rock (there was one on Grand Place yesterday in Brussels and there's one somewhere here -- we've decided where 5 Americans are gathered there has to be a Hard Rock.  And where's there's 5 wannabe Irish Americans, there's an Irish Pub (there's one on the main drag here...sigh).

 Now, to the Budapest Eye.  For those of you who don't know, I don't *DO* heights.  EH was amazed I willingly paid and went up.   I was only a little sick. :). But got those great photos, including this one, which is of our hotel (it's right across the street).  The entrance is in that shadow on the left side, but that's it.  We have an inner facing room, so you can't see me standing at the window.  Nevermind.

And, then, after a nap (I have a rule about naps in the vacation agenda, which has been violated constantly since 2002), to dinner.

Another Hungarian place.  This one is small and busy -- the only table we needed to sit down and be done in less than two hours.  Here' the amuse bouche, which had garlic sour cream on top.  ICYMI that orange colored powder on top is...wait for it...paprika!  Who knew?

 Meg had the prix fixe, which included this goulash soup.

 I had the vegetarian option, which was mushroom paprishka (see the orange powder on top?) with dumplings.

 You can see the other items in the link -- Meg had duck over cabbage and we had dessert, mine the chocolate sauce (terrible idea!) slathered sponge cake and Meg the apple torte with custard sauce.

Then we went to St. Stephen's Basilica for a concert.  The organist was quite good (duh).  What I found amazing was the place echoed so much from the dome that I didn't know how the singers didn't just stop to let it roll by -- it was like the echo sometimes stepped on the next line.  I will spare you my "comic" asides ("she's good with that fiddle") and say that Meg's takeaway was that they claim to have St. Stephen's mummified hand in the crypt.  He's only been dead a thousand years!  Gee, I don't get why she questions this.

And, to come full circle (pun intended), here's the Budapest Eye, after the concert, from our hotel entranceway.  Nice, eh?

Great day.  Tomorrow, some Budapest, then off to Vienna (we have hotel reservations there tomorrow night).  Don't count on a blog.  Just sayin'

Day 1+?: Brussels and then Budapest

What day is it?

For those of you who have taken the international overnight flight to Europe, you will be familiar with this question.  You leave the States in the evening and then "sleep" on the plane (my Fitbit denies there was any sleep ): ) and then get off the plane having lost 6 hours (in our case).  

But it's vacation: every day's a Saturday, right?

The journey began in Brussels, where we'd never been, and which both EH and I enjoyed.  The highlight of Brussels, so some guide wag said, was the medieval part of the city.  So, that's where we went.  The Grand Place was excellent -- that's it in the photo.  

 You can see it is quite a nice square.  We were hungry (again, what day is it?) so we sat at the cafe on the square, on this beautiful, sunny day and had...yes, Belgian waffle.  And, no, it didn't taste differently than any other waffle -- the batter wasn't sweeter, the powdered sugar sugarier...but it was fun.

There was that one "stupid American" moment: the menu was in three languages.  So, I spoke some terrible variation of French and Spanglish to the waiter, something like "Merci, por favor."  EH laughed and laughed.

After buying some chocolates (there were only like 6 chocolate shops on the square, including the most famous to Americans, Godiva), EH saw a "comic strip" store and went in.  As I stood outside, leaning on the window sill, no less than two women (I'm NOT making this up) asked me for directions!  IN FRENCH!  The first was put off when I said I didn't speak French, but the second I was able to point toward what I thought was a taxi stand near the train station.  I guess I have that kind of look -- in French.

On the train to the airport, I embarrassed EH again (it's a gift).  The woman across from us was reading a paper titled "Metro" but it was in a language I didn't understand.  So, I asked.  "It's Flemish."  EH said "what did you think Flemish was?"  To which I responded, "Well, it used to be known as the Spanish Netherlands."  The woman smiled and said "Not since the 1500s."  Yes, I'm that old. 

Earlier, when EH wanted to know where Ghent was, as a train was heading there, I reported that all I knew of Belgian geography I got from Uncle Toby, who received his "war wound" (cough cough, literary allusion) "there" in Tristram Shandy during the War of Spanish Succession (ca. 1702).  Not many trains back then.

Then off to Budapest. 

Unbeknownst to us (till we got here), Hungary (to repeat my bro-law Butch's joke, where everyone is...wait for it...hungry) has its own currency.  Although part of the EU, they don't use the Euro!  According to the grocer, the current rate of exchange is 295 HUF to 1 euro!  Whoa!  so, here's what came out of the bank machine. 

 The ride from the airport was meh -- I did the bright thing of hiring a driver, who was waiting for us with the sign with my name on it (I've always wanted to tell someone I was Jones and take their driver :) ). Miklos did not speak much English, but he took his tip in euros. :)

The hotel is about what you expect from 3***s in Budapest, small, clean and ok.  Not your grandpa's Holiday Inn.  And the entryway!  Yikes!

But we are a five minute walk from the Danube and these views.

Budapest has some great looking buildings, but it does seem a bit...well, "Eastern Europe."  The Budapest Eye is right across the street -- tomorrow's blog MIGHT include shots from there.  I think you can see Putin from there. 

And, finally, Hungarian food.  We had the tapas plate, which included horse sausage (who knew?!  -- we were told that it is leaner than most sausage), and a cheese pate that was heavy on the paprika (this is true of ALL Hungarian food, it seems).  EH went for the veal ragout with dumplings (pictured).  It was quite good.

There was a donut shop across the street.  Which tells you where my mind is.

So, that's day 1, or 2, or 1+.  Catch you next time. 

On the Road Again!

Yes, it's that time of year again!  Rah rah!

You can see my bag is packed (packing cubes and all), tightly, ready for another trip and some pictures, some blogs, and, best, some quality experiences.

EH and I are going to Central Europe.  This is her "graduation present" -- we planned on doing it late last May but things never came together.

They did this year.


Where? Our layover Monday morning is 7 hours in Brussels, then to Budapest.  On Wednesday from Budapest to Vienna.  Friday evening to Bratislava.  Saturday noonish we go back to Budapest and fly home through Vienna (ironically).

Itinerary: after discussion, it was "castles, museums, and food."  Yes, I know where the two best donut shops in Budapest (there are such things) are. :)

So, look for your posting email & enjoy the ride.  We will.

Images (yes, many of food) of a Faculty Strike

Hello happy Readers!  I am back because I wanted to put down for my posterior (#joke) what happened this week -- we went on strike!  APSCUF went on strike!  Never done in our 40+ years. Forced to it by a bunch of bunglers on the other side (I recognize the redundancy of that statement).

Let me start with MY overview: it was a great experience!  We had a membership meeting last night (Friday) where many people talked about the friends they had made, friends they had reconnected with and that next time they were asked to authorize a strike, or even do it, it would be an easy call.

IT WAS A WHOLLY POSITIVE EXPERIENCE.

[late addition: my string bag items for first day]

LHU hat, hand  cleaner, REAL drugs, mini-speaker, "schmoo" (hi-tech drink thing), minor drugs, breath mints (a la lobbying school), recharging battery...umbrella & gore-tex pants followed

My role was a picket captain.  When I signed on, I asked if I got a captain's hat; I was told "sure."  (Liars!)  But I "found" a hat.  Here's the picture from day 1:

And, if you missed it, that IS a parrot on my shoulder (more momentarily).  Because every captain in the movies has a parrot on their shoulder -- right, matey? My two shifts called me "Cap'n Graybeard" because, I was told, "Captain Steve" just sounded so...well, not nautical.

BTW, you can see Mark Cloud, in his blue APSCUF shirt, in the background.

I texted both my "crews" (we had 2-hour shifts and we told to take 2 each), supposedly at "5:30 on Wednesday" (it was really 6:30) to make sure they knew we were out & we'd see each other soon.  They all responded with something like "aye aye, captain."  LOL.

I wrote an email about being on faculty strike that I never sent, from my experience in 2011 in California (in two days, I got tear-gassed and then picketed -- an interesting experience.  I love LA!), that said it was a lot of walking, some bonding, and a lot of boredom.  Back and forth, back and forth.  I logged 39,000+ steps in 3 days -- I only took 56K ALL WEEK last week.  There hasn't been enough ibuprofen.

But get this: the one member of my crew, Kate from Rec Science (you'll see that she's both "young" and fit) did 50,000 steps on Thursday!!!!  I think she did 4 shifts.  Inspiring.  And tiring.

#EATING OUR WAY TO A CONTRACT

Since this blog often focuses on food, I can move to that via the students -- they kept bringing food on Wednesday.  And Thursday.  I put in pictures in order...

Crew member Paul with Wed quick lunch -- MacD's (a terrible theme; BTW -- the president's office is in that building in the background)

I thought we had MacD's in last picture!

Warm snickerdoodles.  I can resist anything but warm cookies! 

My lunch Thursday (there was a meeting so I was in "the Temple") -- that's a cheesesteak & donut.  #heart healthy

My vegan officemate Tracey posing taking a freshly baked muffin from one of our English majors

President-elect Matt Girton wanted this shot taken of him finally eating something healthy -- brought by wiser students :) 

Finally for brunch on Friday, yes, that's moist chocolate cake with a heavy layer of peanut butter icing on it.

STUDENTS

If you can't tell from the pics and food above, the students were great.  I wasn't doing numbers (gee, I'm an English professor) but on Wednesday there were lots there, bringing food, just saying hi and talking, and many picketing with us.

(Side story: I talked to a colleague last night -- I knew everyone in the room, OC -- who had his daughter on the line with him yesterday, aged about 12, who wanted to bring her great grandfather's miners helmet and did.  Generational unionism.  Awesome)

They also went into the admin building and had a sit in around noon Wednesday.    The President didn't even stick his head out of his office.  (this in stark contrast to my friend the president at West Chester, who was pictured on Twitter out on the line, shaking students hands and talking to them -- the caption said "this is what leadership looks like.")

We were especially warmed by our (English) majors -- many, many, many came by, stayed and chatted, some brought food, some walked the line, including Meghan, our English Major of the Year two years ago, who walked multiple shifts over multiple days.  Props.

Frank

At some point I was inspired by my parrot to name him/her.  When the shit hit the fan on Tuesday night, and the system was no longer talking, I realized the parrot's name should be Frank.

Frank became famous, of course.  My favorite point on this was running into the HR director, who was friendly back before she got this gig (she worked as the provost's AA) and I was just a faculty member signing a temp contract every year.  She looked at the parrot and I said "his name is Frank" and she said "I don't want to know."  On her return from Starbucks (no, she didn't get me one...so close and so far) she overheard me give Frank's routine: "I expect them to take birdseed...I stopped talking on Tuesday..."  She said "I don't want to know, I don't want to know..." I yelled out his Twitter address.

Frank made the paper (it's a long story but here -- http://www.lockhaven.com/news/local-news/2016/10/faculty-strike-at-lhu-across-the-state/) but here was Frank's reaction --

Frank(THE FL parrot) ‏@FrankFLparrot  Oct 20

Toy effing' parrot! What what what?! Frank. My name is Frank! D*****t! I'm famous! For my color. For my early bedtime! For not talking!

I got a lot of mileage out of Frank. As I should. His last tweet, after the settlement, complained about the lack of mention in some of the press releases and that he decided he'd just go back to Florida.

LOL.

HOME

I think everyone reading this, or on the original distribution list at least, know I live in a mixed home: I'm a union officer and my wife is in HR in the system. I can say, after the strike, we are still married! I know many wonder how that has happened AT ALL for 35 years, but we are actually speaking lovingly this morning. But it was a rough week. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday we competed to see who could get out the house earliest (I won Friday...someone was losing energy as the week progressed), and Wednesday and Thursday she worked till after 8 PM. She said "just the normal 14 hour day."

And this gives me an opportunity to grouse about the system's management (I mean Frank, mostly, and his predecessors) and their strategy on our contracts. The only time we've gotten one on time since Jim White and Jim McCormack wrote one on a napkin in the mid-nineties (I've seen the napkin), was when we said we weren't working without a contract in 2007, and most of us know how well that went on the union side. They waste huge amounts of human energy with this -- the last week the number of hours of meetings, of work in HR offices, is just ridiculous. Moving off campus, contingency plans, having someone go to classes to take attendance, it's all just a big waste and no Chancellor for 20 years has seemed to care. I guess it's Marxist: those who make the decisions really don't care what it does to those of us proles in the trenches, on both sides.

I feel for those in those offices around the system who had to grind all this out, and still will have to put it all back together. Not so bad as to not strike, but bad in the big picture.

The Organization and the Finish

One question is always "how (not can) do we pull this off?" It seems having had two strike workshops was beneficial (I'm here taking credit for the one in 2013 being helpful) because the mobilization chair, our assistant chair, PR chair, spokesperson, and student liaison did great jobs. And the equipment put together -- like bullhorns -- was right. It was smooth as you could expect. The one thing I missed from California was a port-a-potties (CFA hired a consultant to put their strike in '11, with solar powered phone chargers, pop up canopies, coolers and nutritious snacks and high quality sound systems) -- but we all survived, though I'd hate to be the person who cleans the bathrooms in the three homes we used for 3 days.

As I arrived Friday morning (about 830), Rep. Mike Hanna, who is on the Board of Governors, pulled up to our picket station and said that an agreement was close at hand and to hang on and he thought there'd be a deal by noon. Word spread. When asked, I said, we picket till we're told not to -- more than one "almost agreement" has slipped into days, weeks, to nail down.

My heroes (and friends) -- our negotiating team: from left, Ken (Mr President), Mary Rita, Jamie (VP with the lights over her head -- ironically angelic????), Amy, and Chris, with Stuart (our hired gun) in front signing. 

But Friday we had weather. In the night Thursday night the area had 4-7" of rain (my source is a guy in a tee and shorts in Sheetz Friday morning); it was overcast and spitting all morning. Then, around noon, the wind started howling. A student had come by and brought a tarp and hung it between trees with real ship knots and we scrambled to untie it and cover our signs. We used a cooler and folding chair to hold it down, somehow in the meantime using someone's "stuff" (including keys) as the trashbag. She scared us more than the storm yelling at us. LOL.

So all the picketers gathered in the Masonic Temple downtown, our temporary off-campus on Main St., and they had homemade vegetable soup (never got there) and then more MacDonald's (yes, at one  point I had a cheeseburger).  

We had decided to have an all member meeting Friday evening to look at the last proposals and get everyone psyched up for Monday morning -- thinking we wanted to be strong if we went to week 2.  We had slideshow, prepared of course by Mark, ready, but knowing that there was stuff in the air -- Stan (our chapter president) had another conference call at 3:40.  He came out saying it was over -- then the official message came from the state office.  & Mark started working on the slide show of the agreement.  I bought beer.  

It was quite the celebration -- I counted 100 there at one point and some people came and went. 

Many people spoke.  One recurrent theme was our solidarity, and the help and support of so many students.  Many walked the line, many brought food, many were supportive by honking as they passed, some wrote emails to our president, the real Frank, the Governor and representatives.  And they didn't overdo going to class -- we'll spin it positively that they supported the faculty who told them they'd be out on strike.  

It was one happy group in that room last night.  We talked about how easy it'd be next time -- and we're willing for there to be a next time -- and how close we felt after all going through all this.  One of the scabs came and gave a painful speech about how he screwed up and was too weak and knew he didn't deserve the benefits we'd gone out for but he knew that now and he'd be there from now on.  He got some applause.  No one wanted any downers.  (one funny story, one Exec Council member, who might be a bit intense ran into the Starbucks on East Campus [I teach 2 classes there this semester] to yell "scab, scab, scab" at a guy as he got his coffee and then tried to get to his office and, the next day, said he saw another scab a block and a half a day went running after her yelling "scab" but he said "she's faster than I am."  LOL.  Some people will have a tough time ahead.  Just sayin'.  I don't remember there names -- right?

And, so, today, I'm home, not picketing, with a good TA, and a great experience.  

And here's my departmental colleagues (the ones left at the end of the meeting, rocking the blue T-shirts & one Hogwarts scarf): 

From left Nicole, David, Gayatri, Lisette, me, & Rick (the radical)

And, to finish, my memento from 2011 that came in damned handy this time (I have several crew members deaf in an ear...sorry!)  I'll put it aside till next time.  Somewhere, sometime.  

Bob and Dorothy Go to Bermuda

[note: one comment wonders about cars; there are NO car rentals in Bermuda.  Zero.  Nada.  You can rent a scooter...we did in '08.  But decided it was both too expensive (if you get free rides, especially), and we probably weren't "scooter" types in '08 and considerably less so now :) & I was told that if I even asked about golf clubs going, there'd be no next anniversary ):  I got the hint.]

I was told that I MUST write a blog about our trip to Bermuda!

My response had something to do with lack of comic elements, but that notion has been nixed and now --

As for the title, continuing the now lengthy tradition of the Bob and Bing road movies, though indicating there was no Bing (so far less straight lines).  It also assumes Bob ends up with Dorothy, which I don't think is how those movies turn out.

Opening joke: more than one person has had trouble with which Caribbean island we (or others) was going to "Bahamas, Barbados, Belize..." --

So, it might not have been all that funny, or maybe it was, that our cab driver greets us with "Welcome to Barbados."  This was his idea of opening schtick.  :)

This was our second trip to Bermuda -- the other also a long weekend in the late summer after I first became APSCUF president.  There was disagreement on whether it was August or September -- since I never win one of these, but also don't concede, I think I know which it is -- but that doesn't matter.

We loved it.

We got in at 1:30 Bermuda time (which isn't the same as when they say "island time") -- and were able to get to the beach (yes air quotes here) nearest the apartment.  You can see from this shot that it's a lovely *little* cove, but not much to it.

Then back to the apartment, which is in central Hamilton (by far the largest city on the islands), and an easy walk to things downtown.

To know about the apartment -- it was more of a suite -- a bedroom, with a TV over the foot of the bed, the bed with one side against the wall (think crawling over someone in the middle of the night, if you are middle aged), a dresser, a comfy chair and stool, and a bathroom with a very nice, but only a, shower.  Cozy.  But comfortable.  We, unlike every house shopper on HGTV, weren't preparing for company.  We shared a patio with the other apartment in the house and a young couple from Italy -- she spoke maybe 3 words of English -- had just come in Friday morning.

For dinner we decided on the Italian place about three blocks from the apartment.  The food porn is of Karen's HALF ORDER of carbonara:

After watching some Olympics, we both slept more than 9 hours, then began Saturday's trek.

We had taken the bus out to the cove on Friday, so knew where to go on Saturday when Karen decided to go to Horseshoe Bay, which regularly ranked in the best beaches in the world.  It's on the south shore (the island tilt from northeast to southwest, so the south shore is the part most aimed to the open ocean) and was advertised as a 25 minute bus ride.

It wasn't so much the bus ride as the hike from the main road and bus stop down, DOWN, to the beach.  More on that later (remember, what goes down, must come up...or something like that, right?)

We arrived at the beach at the same time, of course, as OUR bus colleagues, most of whom got off with us, and there were several smaller coaches passing us into the parking lot as we arrived!  I don't know how long I waited in line -- the guy behind me, a New Yawker by accent, and I decided there was money in renting chairs and umbrellas (little did either of us know! see Sunday!) -- maybe 45 minutes.  It was such a madhouse that I put our own umbrella in (fortunately I had to take no abuse because it stayed up the whole day -- the pros were using a battery-powered drill with a two foot long bit!).

And then we had drinks --

On the left is a rum swizzle.  It's supposed to have ginger beer (that's what's in the other hand) and rum and it seems pineapple juice is a component.  They sell the mixer in the duty free shop on the way off island.

The pictures (Dorothy says) won't do Horseshoe Bay justice.  Just so you know, all the professionals claim the sand is pink -- and explain why.  If you get it from the pictures, good for you.  It's nice, soft and effin' hot, but pink...not so much.

That's a view to the east -- we explored out that way and here's one of the wonderful shots of that scenery --

Or this one --

Or...

No, it's not pretty.  The water is very clear, and you can see the color.  And it was 85ish every day, got down to like 78 every night (yeah, big temperature variation there) -- perfect for the beach.  And the water was 81º.  No, not the 61º of Cape Cod of 3 weeks ago.

We found out that all the people on the beach were from a cruise ship --which explained why almost everyone around us had these blue-purple towels.  About 3, they all left!  Had to be back on ship by 4 to leave.  A lot of ships come there, it seems.

Now, for the story of the weekend (maybe), on the way back from the walk, "Dorothy" says she's going in the water.  She's gone a long time and I see her out with two other heads bobbing -- clearly talking.  Well, she comes in and tells me about this couple, etc, etc.  Those familiar with her will recognize this -- an exchange of life stories.

Did I mention the road down from the bus stop?  Well, I drug her off the beach (she says her claw marks are still there -- did I mention the beauty, the warm water, the drinks?) about 4 and we began the long, hot climb up the hill.  We weren't out of the parking lot (literally) when she stopped and told me to go on and she'd be there soon.  Well, a car pulls over and says "want a ride?"  It was that couple, who were the local minister and his wife.  After 35 years of chatting people up, I finally see the upside.

They were very nice and drove us into Hamilton, avoiding the 25 minute bus ride (let alone the wait for the bus) back.  Kudos to the Mrs.  Oh, yes, I didn't mention this in all this, but this trip was for our anniversary.  Since I stopped celebrating birthdays, we won't go into numbers.  But this was "a lot" and a number divisible by 5.

Then to a place not two blocks from our apartment for dinner -- the Mad Hatter.  Here's a decor shot --

I had on a flat hat --this year's San Fran model -- and almost took a sombrero rather than it, home!  I was told that sombrero wasn't really the "island look."

To go along with the day, here's their version of the Rum Swizzle, which has a lot more coconut taste --

And here are Karen (aka Dorothy)'s meals, the risotto appetizer, and the hoof and feathers --

Sunday my organizer decided to change beaches again, going to Elbow Beach, which is the nearest south shore beach to Hamilton.  We had breakfast (there are photos from the French place on this link) and then decided to take a taxi.   The driver (another chatty MF) took us to the private beach, then we said we were actually going to the public one.

But we weren't.

We had no umbrella or chairs.  So we walked onto the private beach, (there are pictures of the accoutrements) and I got out the Visa card and paid.  It was many times what the umbrella and chairs were Saturday!  Ouch!  But we got a guy who came and brought us drinks, then dinner.

But it was beautiful, again!

At the end of the day, rather than the long walk up the hill (again) there was a taxi sitting outside the beachside restaurant and we took it!

Dinner was again at the Italian place -- which we liked and not many places were open -- did I mention, the Mad Hatter was tres expensive? -- and had excellent food.

Then back to the flat, avoiding the lizards (did I mention them? there's one photo of a small one, but one regularly attended our entrance to the apartment), or the frogs, which chirped loudly, but which I told her were big crickets. :)

We spent our last few ours having brunch (French place again), shopping -- you can see some of the things on t-shirts we didn't buy -- and then to the plane.

Worth noting: both children got Bermuda shorts for a gift.  Since one has seen hers, she knows they are madras.  We won't mention his until he receives them.  Yes, they are a thing.  The waiters at the Italian restaurant wore them, in various bright, pastel shades, with dress shirts.  And we saw people going into work with that attire on, too.  Into business offices.

So, that was our anniversary trip to Bermuda.  If it weren't for the lizards, I'm not sure anything was funny.  Right?