Childhood Memories

I've always been fascinated with one's first childhood memory.  My daughter says she doesn't remember anything before the age of 5.  Mostly her memories are unfortunately, of daycare centers and bratty kids.  She does have one special memory of our house in Carlsbad, CA.  She remembers her and I planting seeds in our garden, seedlings sprouting into graceful cosmos along the side of our house.  I remember that day as well.  Her in her tiny jeans, plastic pink garden clogs, and ball cap worn backward. She was 4.

For myself, my first childhood memories are of Japan.  Being adopted at the age of 3, seems like that was the magic age I started to store my memories.  Of running around the statue of the Giant Buddha at Kamakura, chasing my cousin Stevie.  Of being held in my father's arms afraid of the NOH Kabuki players in a street festival.  I remember their white painted faces and their vibrant costumes, swirls of red and white and black.  I remember visiting the Temple at Nikko, peering into the glass boxes that housed fat sumo wrestlers wrapped in snakes, frighten and awed at the same time.  I remember being passed from one person's lap to another at the base theater before the movie started, my mother keeping a careful eye on me.  I recall my mother's beloved Pomeranian she had to give away because it was jealous of me. That must have been hard for her, she loved animals so much.

On the voyage home to America, I threw up on the bunk after a particularly stormy night, it was my 5th birthday, I had pumpkin pie. I remembered the ship's dining hall tables had a raised rim around the edge so the cutlery wouldn't fall off.  It was on that ship I made friends with another girl who asked to borrow my paper dolls.  My precious paper dolls.  I took great care to make sure they were perfect and place just right in the holder.  My paper dolls came back crinkled and creased, heads bend, dresses wrinkled and torn.

Those are my first memories, rich in experience and texture.  They say that you have all your memories stored and that it is just a matter of recalling them.  I hope my daughter will be able to remember more of her childhood, at least more of her memories after we adopted her.  Hopefully hers will be rich with experience as mine were. 

Thinning Hair, Beauty Tricks

So my daughter tells me the other day while in the orthodontist office as we wait to see the dentist, braces being off for the last year, pearly whites smiling at me as she inspects the top of my head, "ewww, I can see your scalp!" 
What do you mean you can see my scalp?
I can see your scalp, it's gross!
Gross?
Yeah, I can't look at it.
What! am I bald or something?
No, I can just see it through your hair, it's thin!
Thin?
Yeah!

Holy Shit I think, this age thing sucks balls!
Not only do I worry about the skin sagging off my face down to my sagging throat, down to my saggy watery pancake of a butt, but now I have to worry about anyone over 5'4" looking down on my head and seeing my scalp, gross indeed!

Over the past few years I've given into some beauty "treatments", out of necessity.  Hell, I still have to look presentable.  I work after all.  Have to keep up appearances.  Not to mention, I'm a mother and want to look like a mother and not a grandmother for heaven's sake!  Some woman at the gym asked me where my granddaughter was?  Granddaughter?  You mean daughter, I ask with obvious contempt.  Needless to say, I no longer acknowledge her presence anymore. You are dead to me! (the woman at the gym).  I don't take these things lightly.

A few things have alleviated the pain of getting old, some of which I shall share with you here.  I'm all for full disclosure and anything I have tried and tested and found to work, more power to us!

BOTOX-while I don't like the idea of injecting botulism, heck if you get botulism from something you've eaten, you could actually get sick and die, but me,  I'm happy to inject it into my crow's feet.  It works beautifully but alas, it only last 6 months.  I should try to be more like Victoria Beckman and not smile or laugh.  And to think I used to think she was such a bitch when she was just probably trying not to create more crow's feet.

LATISSE-I have Asian eyes and therefore, Asian eyelashes or in other words, short, stubby, straight and sparse.  Latisse is the answer for all 4 of the S's above.  It creates beautiful curly lashes in 16 weeks.  Of course, it needs up keep and you have to keep applying, but a small price to pay for never having to use an eyelash curler again!

JUVEDERM-Hyaluronic acid injectable for frown lines of which mine were pronounce and deep.  I looked like a ventriloquist's  puppet.  I've had it done twice and each time, the amount of time lengthens in between injections.  I asked my dermo how long can it last and she said in one of her patients it lasted over five years. It's been over two years and counting for me!  Oh happy day, turning my frown upside down.

And now for my latest at home beauty treatment, drum roll please.....

DERMO ROLLING-What is it you ask. It's a roller that has between 240 to 560 needles anywhere from .25 cm to 2.0 cm.  Rolling it on your skin traumatizes the skin to create more collagen.
More collagen, where do I sign up?  I bought mine online for around $29.00 and I got the 560 needles 1.0 in length.  Of course, I carefully researched the Bible of instructions, YouTube.  Most of the reviews are favorable.  I was excited to try it.  Ok, one word, OUCH, YIKES, OOOOHHH, PAINFUL.  Ok, that's four words, is ooohhh a word?  Well, you get my drift, it's painful, it hurts, your face feels like it's on fire, and it turns red.   Does it work?  Well the jury is still out. I'll keep you posted.  Just remember those famed words, no pain, no gain, right?


As for my thinning hair, I'm on a quest to find the product that works at thickening it.  It's that or wear a hat for the rest of my life!








 

Belize Central America

Come vacation time, I’m always excited to plan a trip.  It's like throw a dart on a map and that is where we'll go!   This year we decide on Belize. Exotic enough and out of the mainstream Central America. Not quite the tourist destination like Cancun or Punta Cana or Costa Rica.  But promising enough to deliver on beaches and jungle adventures.  We flew from Las Vegas to Houston, Houston to Belize.  Not sure if I wanted to stay on the mainland of Belize (Belize City) or stay on the island. We opted for Ambergris Caye, the largest of its Caye's which turned out to be the best decision.  From what I could tell, Belize City was not all that impressive and the beaches didn’t look that great. And hey, if there is an island nearby why not opt for island life? Visions of Castaway.

 

We took a small plane from Belize International Airport.  It's amazing what they call International these days.  Set up a couple of counters and two customs officials and two island airlines and that's international.  The whole customs thing takes about 15 minutes to go through and once on the other side while waiting for your island hopper visit Ray's makeshift bar.  A table with a couple of bottles of beer and boxes of candy bars and one friendly mutt.  Oh yeah drinks, 4 dollars Belize. So if you are wondering how much time to give yourself when you land in Belize to catch your puddle jumper, I’d say about one hour tops.  We bought round trip tickets on Maya Airlines to Ambergris Caye, opting to fly rather than take a taxi from the airport to Belize City and then catch a hour and half ride to the island via water taxi.  Believe me you’ll have plenty of chances to ride the water taxis. 

 

On Ambergris Caye, the only place to stay on the island is RAMON VILLAGE RESORT!  It has the best beach, the best individual cabana rooms and the best location and they have their own small "blue" hole snorkeling right off their dock.  We walked numerous times up the beach into town and saw all the other resorts and none could hold a candle to RAMON’S.  While Ramon’s is definitely the place to stay, their excursions can be expensive.  Before going to Belize, I researched jungle adventures in Belize and decided that we wanted to do the zip lining and the cave tubing.  I managed to find a gem of a company that charged for the two adventures a paltry 75.00 per person (all other companies including Ramon’s were charging close to 200.00 pp).  You can make reservations online with Cavetubing online.com.  Catch their slogan, BUTTS UP!  They offer cave tubing, zip lining and ATV riding through the jungle.  I made the reservation online and got an email confirmation with directions on where to meet.  We took the water taxi to Belize City and was met by our guide who personally drove us to the jungle where we met up with another group.  First stop was to their pit stop, an open air bar like structure, where they gave us cold drinks.  Beware however, the toilets are primitive, hold your nose, and extremely dirty.  Guess they don't have janitors out here.  Best bet, hold the pee until you reach the cave tubing drop off.  There you will find modern amenities.  From there a guide leads you through the jungle all the while delivering funny antidotes on jungle facts.

 

Once at the cave tubing starting point, Jason said we should go in the water to cool off.  Believe me, it's quite a trek through the jungle which is hot and mosquito infested.  Make sure you spray plenty of 100% Deet and bring the bottle.  The mosquitoes are ferocious!  Cooling off in the pool of water was glorious and refreshing.  Here they tie all the tubes together while the three guides actually swim and steer the tubes in the water through the caves.  It was amazing and I was incredulous that they could actually do this job day in and day out.  It was hard work guiding the tubes all the while giving their tour lecture.  Next we walked to the zip lining site where the guides hooked us up to the zip lining gear.  One thing about the whole tour, they were very thorough and careful with the entire tour concentrating safety.  The zip lining consisted of 7 platforms that increased in height and duration.  All together I believe they said it was about 600 ft of zip line.  They are building 2 more platforms which will cross over the river where we cave tubed.  Having never done zip lining, one word AWESOME!! I would do it over and over again!  That was so much fun! Again, spray yourself down with insect repellent!Afterward the tour gave us a lunch of chicken and beans and rice and drove us back down to the dock to catch our water taxi back.  Total experience, amazing!

A word about the ATV's, we didn't do them, but it looked like you get really muddy, dirty, and sweaty.  Then again you have the river to cool off in.

Back on Ambergris, don't miss the Chicken drop on Thursdays, where the chicken or rooster may or may not shit on your winning number.  Jackpot $100.00. One dollar buy in.

One of my favorite places for breakfast, Caroline's.  Get the Mayan Breakfast, scrambled eggs with spicy sauce, beans and fry jacks, an island staple of fried dough.  Fried dough, I knew I liked this island. 

Next it was snorkeling at Hol Chan and Shark Ray Alley.  About a mile off the island where the boats drop you off near the barrier reef.  While I wanted to see the barrier reef, I would have been happy just to stay at the boat drop off area.  It was shallow enough to feel safe and there were plenty of fish there.  Swimming to the barrier reef is definitely not for the faint of heart or weak swimmer, even if they give you life vest and take care to carefully guide you through the channel.  My 15 year old got a panic attack half way there as the ocean gets really deep as you watch the scuba divers below and one realizes holy shit, this is deep!  Next it was a short ride to shark ray alley, where the boat guides throw chum over the boat to attract manta rays and pilot sharks and turtles.  That location is shallow enough where you can swim comfortably and enjoy the wonders of the ocean.

While we stayed on Ambergris for 10 days, my recommendation is that 5 days is plenty.  Then one should stay on Caye Caulker, a smaller island about a half hour from Ambergris and more lay back or as we were told, this is what Ambergris was like before all the tourist.  On Caye Caulker you can get a villager to cook you lobster right on the beach for $10.00 Belize (5 US).  The island has an inlet where one can swim and see lots of fish, starfish and shells.  A great snorkeling area for the beginner.  About 3 days on the island is plenty.

What to take? Plenty of bathing suits, rubber flip flops, snorkels and snorkel vest (order those from Amazon for around 34.00 for two), umbrella and lots of Deet and sunscreen.  Remember it's tropical so you want to take stuff that will dry quickly as once it rains nothing dries.  Buying the island souvenirs, Guatemala textiles, homemade necklaces and bracelets, haggle, something I'm not good at.  Necklace 50.00?  Sure, NOT!  Make sure you buy tamales from the tamale man on the beach, so good for $2.00!  And drink plenty of Belikin beer!  Cheap!

Would I go back, probably not.  There are too many other islands, other beaches and other oceans to see.  Oh one more thing, don't expect beautiful sunsets, as most of the resorts face east on the island, much to my chagrin, I expect island sunsets, but it's all about which way you are facing, duh!

 

 

Mannheim Steamroller

We went to see Mannheim Steamroller at the Palazzo Casino on Saturday.  I thought maybe we would start a new Christmas tradition.  I really don’t have any Christmas tradition except if you can call the dog peeing on the presents under the tree a “Christmas” tradition.  I was excited since I love Mannheim Steamroller Christmas music and their music is definitely a Christmas tradition every year.  I bought tickets online, prices ranged from $70 to $135.  Thankfully I bought the cheap seats because music is music and in my opinion it really doesn’t matter where you sit in the theater to hear music.  After I purchased the tickets I realized that some of the music I thought was Mannheim was actually Transiberian Orchestra, “On this night, on this very Christmas Night!”  Ok, I love Mannheim music too and both I read are from the same conductor Chip Davis, so that’s why the music sounds so similar!

We made it an evening, having dinner at the Grand Lux Café in the Palazzo right next to the Palazzo Theater.  The Grand Lux (owned by Cheesecake Factory) has an extensive menu, from burgers to steaks and is reasonably priced and very good.  Try the brie wontons and the crispy fried pickles, delicious!!  After dinner we made our way to the Palazzo Theater.  I couldn’t help notice that it looked like the bus from Sun City dropped off ticket holders.  There wasn’t a person under 60 in this crowd. The theater itself is small and the seats are pretty tight.  Thankfully the seats in front of us weren’t occupied so we had a clear view of the stage, which later I came to regret (more later on that).  I started to have my reservations sitting there, the theater reminded me of a high school auditorium, none of the grandeur like the Caesar’s forum or the Mirage theater.  The show starts with a cheesy film clip of Chip Davis behind which Mannheim starts playing.  Ah, there’s the music!  The music swells, the percussion chime, drums, snares, violins my ears are in heaven, until they start showing  cheesy film clips again in what appeared to be very bad clips of animated Christmas movies and not even the classic ones like Rudolph or Frosty.  More like very bad claymation from the 50’s.  You almost expected Burl Ives to start singing.  No HD here, video graphics were terrible!  Then rings drop from the ceiling and performers do a very high schoolish performance on the aerial rings.  Hey don’t they know this is Cirque du Soliel town and anyone who has seen a Cirque production would scoff at this amateur attempt?  During the show, I started to fall asleep, that boring yes, (and I was battling a fierce stomach ache and headache which wasn’t help by the fact that on stage there were light props, no attempt to conceal them either) were pointed directly at the audience and shot out lights blinding one in the eyes.  Several people around us were covering their eyes when the strobe hit us.  Not a pleasant experience and very unsettling.  Then performers dressed in fluffy down vest and matching woolen scarves,( were they an ad for Old Navy?) came on stage to horse around and do flips (why?).  Come on, really?  You’re Mannheim, you don’t need cheesy acrobatics, amateur production numbers and bad videos to support your music.  They would have been better off just playing their famous music.  Why ruin it?  Goodness, this is the Palazzo, one of the more upscale casino’s on the strip, you’d expect this show to be on par with that image.  NOT!! 

In the end it was very disappointing.  As we walked out, one man said to me it was very “amateur” and that was the one befitting word perfectly.  AMATEUR!  Don’t waste your time or money.  Have the nice dinner and then go shopping instead, you’ll get more for your money.

Taking a Sabbatical

Fellow readers, I am taking a sabbatical from blogging. I need to find my inspiration, till then, keep in touch!!

Why Do I Blog?

People ask me why is it that I blog. Sure it's some part of an ego thing, but mostly it's because I feel some sense of keeping my self history alive, a little bit of immortality. Writing a chapter in my autobiography, posting my feelings, remembering the past. Easier than writing a manuscript and sending it away to some editor who will in the end reject it for it's narrow appeal.

When I re-read the post of my mother or father or of my dogs, it always stirs those memories long forgotten and makes them alive and real again.

Like the time we bought a 2 story Victorian house in San Francisco. We had been looking to buy a house for a while when one day a painter, in his painter overalls came to our cafe to buy a latte. I asked him where he was painting and he said he was painting his house to sell. Where? I ask. Down the block he says. Excitedly I call my realtor and tell him we have to see this house, and it's not even listed yet! Back then it was bidding wars to find a real deal and this I felt was the real deal. We see the house that evening. The house was a semi-ruin, but I was smitten. Never mind that the first layer of plaster had been scraped off giving it that rustic Tuscan feel. Never mind that it didn't have sheet rock in the kitchen, just bare studs and a non existent kitchen, never mind that the banister was gone so that one could plunge to their death from the second floor, never mind that the two fireplace mantles had been taken off and not replaced (the painter said that he took them to his house in Minnesota, nothing like raping a beautiful Victorian), and never mind that the parquet on the floor had lost it's glorious luster. I was in love and knew with that gut feeling that this was it. Oh by the way, the bottom flat was in pretty good shape and was rented out. Of course we had to jump through so many hoops to get the lender to approve the loan, like going to Home Depot and fabricating a mock kitchen, lenders won't lend on a property that is not livable. We got the house in the end.

After moving in and the tenants downstairs moved out, my partner in the cafe moved in with his boyfriend (this is San Francisco). The house, a two unit flat built 100 years ago started to act funny. Yeah you heard me, act funny. The house was before the Great Earthquake used to be a girl's boarding school. After the Great Earthquake, the city gave tax breaks to convert stately houses into units, which happened to our house. Unfortunately, they split the house right down the middle and created what they would eventually call a railroad house, long and narrow, but still had it's charm.

But getting back to that acting funny part. I believe that strange occurrences starting happening because the house reached it's hundred year mark. Now, I'm usually a doubting Thomas always more scientific than religious , but the stuff we lived through was thoroughly real.

Take the time when I came home, the red light blinking on the phone showing that there was a message on the machine. I played the message only there was no one there, only a recording of our voices in the cafe. I could hear the conversation we had that morning in the cafe, but I could also hear some weird strange One Step Beyond cello music playing in the back ground. This message went on for 15 minutes, strange since my phone messages only held about a 2 minute recording time per message. I had the phone company check it out. They said that the call came from inside the house. This made the hairs on my arms raise. At Christmas, the guys downstairs left the state for the holidays. We stayed home. One evening we heard the piano playing downstairs, Morzart's 9th Symphony (I know this, it's one of my favorites) and you could hear it really clear from our upstairs bathroom since that is where the grand piano was positioned below. We listened to the music with increasing horror. Hey remember there was no one home downstairs. Even my husband, who is the greatest Doubting Thomas ever, was shocked. We both ran downstairs and out the front. We pressed our ears to their door. The music continued to play, loud and melodic. We quietly inserted our key into the lock, twisted the lock and silently pressed the door open. I could still hear the music playing loudly and from in there, and then when we swung open the door, the music abruptly stopped. I pushed my husband through (he's the man for heaven's sake), I walked behind him. We checkout the salon (as they liked to called it) the front family room and there was the grand piano, silent, mockingly still, mysterious and in the air a sheet of music floating to the ground, Mozart's 9th.
And that is why I blog, to remember those weird and sometimes wonderfully mysterious things that happen in life.

Blogging Bourdain-A Post Revisited

I decided to cook a turkey on Labor Day, which my daughter quizzically says, it isn't Thanksgiving. I promptly tell her that turkey can be eaten any day, any month and any time one needs lots of leftovers for the week. This being only the second week of school and the lunch lines being extremely long for the hot lunch, my daughter is forced to bring her lunch or not eat. So turkey sandwiches sounded good and easy for her lunches, hence roasting a turkey on Labor Day. Therefore, a marathon of No Reservations were in order, since there wasn't much of anything. It was either that or the MDA telethon. How long can one watch people answer phones and an amature talent lineup? Anthony Bourdain starts out on a road trip where the criteria for a road trip is lots of eating, drinking and of course puking, I would think that's his criteria for traveling abroad. He makes a stop at the Salton Sea where he recites an interesting history, of forgone popularity and of abandonment, of too much salt and lots of dead fish, of government purchase with no government benefits. It is here he makes a lunch stop at the community of Bombay Beach, currently home to 270 residents or in this case die hards living on the edge of the salty sea. Here he enters probably the only eating establishment where he orders the patty melt which he says he's never had one. Never had a patty melt? Pigeon necks yes, patty melts no. Do these people in there even know who he is? I think not, when one of them says can you eat and drink on the job? To which Anthony Bourdain says that's what I do. Well heck, where do I sign up? Next it's on to some redneck outpost. It is here that I am furiously surfing since this stretch of the road trip is a napper. They stop somewhere to eat a 72 oz steak, the sounds of Deliverance banjos in the background and somewhere there's a redneck wedding going on. Next it's on to Cartagena, romanticized in the "Romancing the Stone", eating ceviche and strolling through the local market for a lunch at Cecilia's. Cecilia is cooking seafood rice in black kettles on an open flame which looked absolutely delicious, where Anthony Bourdain and his guide, Jorge are lunching on endangered turtle stew, is that legal? Slow cooked and perfect. Next a precariously rough boat ride from Columbia's shore to an island time forgot, for some freshly caught lobsters for lunch. I imagine if you have steady sea legs one might be able to enjoy the fresh catch, me, I'd be seasick for 3 days. Anthony Bourdain ask a local if he prefers to live on the island or live there as he points out to Colombia with it's skyscrapers and big city life. The guy says he rather live here on the island. Who wouldn't? No jobs, no responsibilities, just dive for your supper. Next it's on to San Antonia for the deep fried lower intestines of the pig, could that be pig rectum? I'm not too hot on that even if it's deep fried, but the cornmeal cake with fresca cheese and sweeten condense milk looked awesome, although as a child, I remember I threw up on sweeten condense milk. I ate so much poor man's pudding I puked. Poor man's pudding recipe to follow. The next day Anthony Bourdain ate a breakfast of rice and beans and fried eggs and fried plantains which made my mouth water with hunger. It is those moments I live for, because, Columbia for all it's fighting back against the drug cartels makes my bucket list as one of the last places on earth I plan to visit, Romancing the Stone or not.

Poor Man's pudding-one can of sweetened condensed milk. Put can unopened in a sauce pan, add water and boil for 40 to 50 minutes. Let cool, open can and eat.

For Dad

I was cleaning out a closet the other day and found this old photograph of my father and his parents, Frank and Mary. They were from the old country of Italy and are the typical immigrant story. Grandpa was from Sicily and Grandma was from Naples. They say that you can look up your relatives in Sicily just by saying your name to the people that live there. I bet they would be surprised they have a long lost Asian relative. This photo was taken on the steps of my grandparents house in upstate New York, in a small town called Friendship. I remember spending summers there and when seeing my grandparents for the first time, my grandmother touching my face said "bella, bella". I remembered their house smelled of brown eggs and malt and my dad bringing Grandpa Frank a mysterious bag of hops. Little did I know then Grandpa was a brewmister and brewed his own beer in the cellar. Grandma had chickens in the backyard and grew her own vegetables. I remember the heat of the summers and reading comics in the attic. And when we left for our long car trip back to California, Dad would cry beneath his sunglasses and silently wipe away the tears. When I made a copy of this picture for him, I knew he remember those days and I shared in his longing for them. Happy Father's Day, Dad.

Of All The Dogs I've Loved Before

As we came to the finale of the Greatest American Dog, I stopped to think about all the dogs I have owned and loved. My fellow loving, loyal companions of my past, two which rest in cedar boxes on my library shelf.
My only dog of my childhood was a beagle that we got when I was eleven and lived in Hawaii . Only a few memories linger from "Susie", like the one of the day I was taking her for a walk on the base, (we lived on Barber's Point Navy Base, Oahu), when Susie took the biggest snake of a poop in someone's calla lilies. I remember standing there frozen in sheer terror at the size and it's slithery ability of it snaking down the leaf to the stalk while the homeowner yelled at me from his front porch for me to clean it up! Of the time that Susie had gotten bitten from a centipede in the backyard and almost died and had for the rest of her days eat this horrible smelling dog food that my mother would extract from the can in a solid lump and cut it up into small bite size pieces. And of the day Susie died, my mother standing in the doorway in her blue nightgown and hair net, crying hopelessly. I had never seen her cry before.
The first dog of my young adulthood was Charlie, a mutt that someone was giving away in front of a mall in San Diego while I was attending college. She was smarter than most humans and could jump from a sitting position into your arms. She traveled with us from our house in San Diego to San Francisco, feeling at home anywhere she could sleep between us, head on the pillow, snoring. She would sit across the room by the fireplace staring at my dish because that was how she begged for treats, until one day she no longer did that and chose just to sit next to me barely breathing. When we took her to the vet, they told us she had lung cancer, to which I told the vet that I didn't know she smoked. On her final day I brought her to the vet, she knew it was going to be our last day together and as I hugged her while the vet gave her the shot, I could feel her cold nose press against my cheek, her tongue lick my tears, and felt her swallow her last breath. Now I know how my mother felt that day in her blue nightgown and hair net, crying, hopelessly.
There after it was a series of dogs, mostly big goofy labs. A black one named Peppercorn, who insisted on digging up my roses in the back yard, until one day she made a hole so big it was almost in the neighbor's yard, that I put her in the hole and hosed her down with water until she was a muddy mess. She never dug again. A yellow lab named Fanny, hopelessly sweet and kind hearted, who had a benign fatty tumor on her stomach the size of a small football. A purebred Sheltie named Dottie. The day we went to pick her up at the breeder's farm in Livermore, she came out of the barn with her tiny tips of her ears taped down. She was stubborn and refused to be house broken, until into the 8th month, out of frustration, I held her over the balcony of my three story house and told her if she didn't learn to be potty trained she would end up in the garden. She never made a mess after that and her ears never did stay down. The past has been filled with lovable big dogs, sloppy in their affections. Now we have two small Chihuahua's, Henry and Hazel. Loveable, sweet, kind, terrors!

Anthony Bourdain's Worst Meal Ever!

It was another Sunday when I caught Anthony Bourdain in Namibia. This should be good, anything in Africa promises to be an adventure in dining. Here Tony and the bushman are hunting for their breakfast. No quick stop to the local Starbucks or Mickey D's. Nope, it's dry as dust, what could they possibly be hunting for? Why ostrich eggs of course. Tony has a pang of sympathy (for their meager find) which probably should have lasted a lot longer so he could have come to his senses and bowed out of breakfast with the Bushman, leaving them to consume their precious find, but where's the adventure in that? The Bushman tell Tony that they are going to make breakfast right there on the spot. Humm, says Tony? Right here? Not a kettle or pot within 200 miles. Patience, wait for it. Apparently the Bushman are experts at the spontaneous. They quickly heat the ground with their coals. Carefully they make a hole at the top of the ostrich egg, poke a stick through it to scramble the contents. After the sand is sufficiently hot, they flatten the dirt out in a nice circle. Yikes, where's the fry pan I gasp! The Bushman dump the contents of the egg onto the dirt and then proceed to cover the eggs with more dirt and wood. Ugh! Tony is amazing calm during all this dirt cooking. I would be retching in the bush. What seems like an interminable amount of time to cook, for god sakes, it's just eggs Tony says, the Bushman uncover their meal, a baked dirt frittata. They pry pieces of the ash covered eggs, never you mind that it is covered in ash, dirt and whatever dung might be on the land and eat with relish. Tony however is trying to dust his piece off, what's a little grit among friends? Arguably possibly the worst meal I have ever seen on this show! But wait there's more. A warthog dinner is next to what Tony calls his worst meal ever. How quickly he forgets the baked dirt frittata! Tony goes hunting again, a lot of hunting on this episode, where he actually kills the poor creature. Here he gets to sample some of the more juicy parts of the warthog, namely the rectum and brains. When Tony says the tree beetles were the best thing he ate all day, you know it had to be bad. We don't get to see Tony puke his guts, but I'm sure it was on his mind. And when Tony says it's bad, it's got to be bad. Move over Andrew Zimmern!