Well, folks, here I am. The wedding-posting frenzy is over, and I feel like there's not much exciting to post about. But I am trying to be better about posting more frequent, shorter updates.
Kate and I have been married for a little over a month now, and everybody always asks me how it is. I never know quite how to answer that one. Truth be told, it's a lot like it was before I was married. I still sleep away a third of my day, I still am at work for about 11 hours every day (including the commute), I still come home and watch movies with Kate (although now we are actually watching them together instead of over gChat). Not much in my every day life has changed.
Any of my married readers feel the same way when you got married? Is there a good response to that question?
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Wedding posts
So, I finally sat down and wrote out all the story from the wedding and receptions and all that. I wrote them in reverse chronological order, so that when you are looking at them here on the blog, they are actually in order top to bottom. Unless you are reading this way later in the archives. Don't blame me- blame blogger. It was their idea to make the most recent posts show up at the top.
Anyway, just thought I should give a heads up that these posts might seem out of order.
Anyway, just thought I should give a heads up that these posts might seem out of order.
Wedding, receptions, and an awesome mustache.
Let's do the timewarp again!
This should (should) be my last retroactive post. Soon the time space continuum will be back in order. The Doctor can rest easy.
So, Monday night, December 20th, was the day before the wedding. There was the Big Family Dinner thing. I guess it's still called a rehearsal dinner, even if there's no rehearsing going on? I dunno. We had Chinese food from Dad's favorite place. I love it too, but we had it due to a funny miscommunication. Kate's Mom and my Mom were having lunch together a few months ago, and talking about all the weddingy plans that had to be made. Laura asked Mom what she wanted to do for the rehearsal dinner, and Mom joked "well, David would pick Grand Buffet, of course." The David there is Dad, who eats at Grand Buffet approximately 10 days a week. Laura missed the joke, thinking that Mom meant that I would pick Grand Buffet, and so she started planning on that. In another conversation, Mom brought up the question again, and Laura said "David wants Grand Buffet," so Mom got the idea from Laura who got it from Mom, and both of them thought it came from me. I feel like I'm watching Inception again...
The dinner was good, and we all had a good time. Kids ran around screaming, in-law-in-laws met (I wish there were a word for that relationship), and Chinese food was delicious.
The next morning, Kate came over to drive to Houston with me. Yes, I saw her the morning of the wedding. When she walked in the room, nieces and nephews were running around, and nieces were trying on flower-wreaths (is there a name for that? Flowers for their hair?). Mom saw Kate and said "Who is that beautiful girl!?" At this moment, Olivia was trying on her flowers and thought she looked beautiful, so she declared to her grandmother that she herself was that beautiful girl. "Olivia!"
The wedding itself was simple, as Mormon weddings tend to be. The ceremony was very simple, followed by a bit of advice from the man performing the ordinance. He only told us to remember the covenants we had made today, both those we made with each other and with the Lord. After, we took lots of pictures. Kate's brother-in-law Josh had said he wouldn't take pictures so we found another photographer. Josh decided that he would take pictures too, so we had two photographers and lots and lots of pictures. One of these days I'll get them sorted through and post some here. Or maybe not. Who can say.
After the pictures, Kate and I went to eat together at a sushi place in Huntsville. It was pretty darn good. Then came the reception. It was not nearly as bad as people say. We didn't have a formal line, just Kate and me standing in the middle of the room and people came and talked to us. I feel like there's not much to tell about this. Maybe when I post pictures there'll be more stories and stuff.
After the wedding and the party and all that, Kate and I drove to Madisonville where we were staying at a bed and breakfast. We had called them earlier in the day and mentioned that we were going to be getting in late, and they told us not to worry, that the key would be in our door if nobody was there to greet us. I remembered from the website that some rooms opened directly to the outside of the building (onto a big porch) and some opened to the inside, but I couldn't remember which we had. I just sort of assumed that ours opened to the outside.
When we got there, the place was locked. I could see the front desk through the windows, and nobody was there. It was late, we were tired, and we were locked out. Kate sat in her dress with her bags on a bench on the porch while I walked around the building trying to find a way in. Eventually I found a couple around back who had stepped out to sit on the porch and drink some coffee. The husband was named Sydney (I think) and really looked the part of a good old gentleman from Texas. Bolo tie, cowboy hat, and mustache. He let us in the building, and even carried Kate's bag. What a guy.
When we got inside, there was our key sitting in our door as promised. I appreciate their help leaving the key there, but I kind of wish they had told us "you can get into your room, but good luck getting into the building, suckers!"
The next day, we drove to Daingerfield for another reception. More of the same, but less formal. Kate hung out with her friends and I sort of wandered around trying not to look too lost. And that's about it.
This should (should) be my last retroactive post. Soon the time space continuum will be back in order. The Doctor can rest easy.
So, Monday night, December 20th, was the day before the wedding. There was the Big Family Dinner thing. I guess it's still called a rehearsal dinner, even if there's no rehearsing going on? I dunno. We had Chinese food from Dad's favorite place. I love it too, but we had it due to a funny miscommunication. Kate's Mom and my Mom were having lunch together a few months ago, and talking about all the weddingy plans that had to be made. Laura asked Mom what she wanted to do for the rehearsal dinner, and Mom joked "well, David would pick Grand Buffet, of course." The David there is Dad, who eats at Grand Buffet approximately 10 days a week. Laura missed the joke, thinking that Mom meant that I would pick Grand Buffet, and so she started planning on that. In another conversation, Mom brought up the question again, and Laura said "David wants Grand Buffet," so Mom got the idea from Laura who got it from Mom, and both of them thought it came from me. I feel like I'm watching Inception again...
The dinner was good, and we all had a good time. Kids ran around screaming, in-law-in-laws met (I wish there were a word for that relationship), and Chinese food was delicious.
The next morning, Kate came over to drive to Houston with me. Yes, I saw her the morning of the wedding. When she walked in the room, nieces and nephews were running around, and nieces were trying on flower-wreaths (is there a name for that? Flowers for their hair?). Mom saw Kate and said "Who is that beautiful girl!?" At this moment, Olivia was trying on her flowers and thought she looked beautiful, so she declared to her grandmother that she herself was that beautiful girl. "Olivia!"
The wedding itself was simple, as Mormon weddings tend to be. The ceremony was very simple, followed by a bit of advice from the man performing the ordinance. He only told us to remember the covenants we had made today, both those we made with each other and with the Lord. After, we took lots of pictures. Kate's brother-in-law Josh had said he wouldn't take pictures so we found another photographer. Josh decided that he would take pictures too, so we had two photographers and lots and lots of pictures. One of these days I'll get them sorted through and post some here. Or maybe not. Who can say.
After the pictures, Kate and I went to eat together at a sushi place in Huntsville. It was pretty darn good. Then came the reception. It was not nearly as bad as people say. We didn't have a formal line, just Kate and me standing in the middle of the room and people came and talked to us. I feel like there's not much to tell about this. Maybe when I post pictures there'll be more stories and stuff.
After the wedding and the party and all that, Kate and I drove to Madisonville where we were staying at a bed and breakfast. We had called them earlier in the day and mentioned that we were going to be getting in late, and they told us not to worry, that the key would be in our door if nobody was there to greet us. I remembered from the website that some rooms opened directly to the outside of the building (onto a big porch) and some opened to the inside, but I couldn't remember which we had. I just sort of assumed that ours opened to the outside.
When we got there, the place was locked. I could see the front desk through the windows, and nobody was there. It was late, we were tired, and we were locked out. Kate sat in her dress with her bags on a bench on the porch while I walked around the building trying to find a way in. Eventually I found a couple around back who had stepped out to sit on the porch and drink some coffee. The husband was named Sydney (I think) and really looked the part of a good old gentleman from Texas. Bolo tie, cowboy hat, and mustache. He let us in the building, and even carried Kate's bag. What a guy.
When we got inside, there was our key sitting in our door as promised. I appreciate their help leaving the key there, but I kind of wish they had told us "you can get into your room, but good luck getting into the building, suckers!"
The next day, we drove to Daingerfield for another reception. More of the same, but less formal. Kate hung out with her friends and I sort of wandered around trying not to look too lost. And that's about it.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Honeymoon part II
Did anybody see the Operation Condor movies? Jackie Chan put out a movie called Operation Condor part II, with no part I. It worked out so well that he continued the story in part I later. Since I am doing this bit of blog in a weird time-warpy place, this'll be like that. I'll post part I first, then this one (part II), but just keep reading in reverse chronology like the last few (or next few... man this is confusing).
So, we've done the drive up to Michigan and the first few days here. Time to step back to the honeymoon. I promise that this post will be g-rated. The raunchy details can be found at Kate's blog (probably). I can also promise that it will be fun and no too lovey-dovey. I'm no Kyrie, after all.
Warning: this post will be really, really long.
After the Daingerfield reception (more details on that in the next post, which I haven't written yet), we drove to Dallas to stay at the Red Roof Inn (I know, I know, I'm the classiest guy around. You don't have to tell me). In my defense, it was close to the airport so we wouldn't have to get up too early the next morning.
The next day (Thursday), we went to the airport to fly to Cancun. When we got there, we had some trouble checking in at the kiosks, so somebody had to help us. Kate checked in with no problems and was in boarding group 2. When they figured out my stuff, I was in group 3 or 4. Then they noticed that we weren't sitting next to each other, and changed both of our tickets to get us together. Then we looked at our new tickets: we were both in boarding group 5. I don't know how, but I always end up in group 5 (the last group to board the plane). Somehow, the Airline Gods decided that if anybody's carryon gets checked, it should be mine.
Anyway, we were there and through security with plenty of time to spare (thanks for the genes, Dad!), so we had breakfast at the airport and sat around talking about the Wheel of Time. Yeah, we're that nerdy. The time came to board, and we watched as group one boarded, and group two, and so on. As they all got on, the group standing around got smaller and smaller. Group four boarded, and there was a long pause with only me and Kate still there before they called for group 5. We were the only people in group 5. I seriously don't know how this always happens to me.
The flight was good and pretty uneventful. It was empty enough that the seat next to Kate was empty, so she got to lie down and put her head in my lap for a head scratch. When we landed in Cancun, customs was quick (I guess nobody tries to smuggle stuff into Mexico from the US), and we found a taxi to Puerto Morelos where we were staying. The taxi driver had no idea where Rancho Sak-Ol was, but said to trust him and he would figure it out. He got directions from another driver (in Spanish) and the exchange went something like this:
"You know where this place is?"
"Rancho? Nah."
"No?"
"Not really. Just go to Puerto Morelos and ask somebody there."
These two kept looking at us the whole conversation, trying to decide if we understood them. I did, and I think Kate had an idea, if not all the details. So, Gustavo drove us to Puerto Morelos and casually asked somebody there where our hotel was. Partway through the drive I realized that he was using his hazard lights instead of turn signals. It did not inspire confidence.
We eventually got to Rancho Sak-Ol (which I will just call "the hotel" or "Rancho" because I'm too lazy to keep typing Sak-Ol). It was beautiful, and exactly as advertised (which is not always the way these things work). We went to our room and the towels were folded on the bed in the shape of a swan.
That's right. A swan.
So, it was really, really pretty. It was right on the beach, and the people there were super nice. After walking around on the beach, we decided it was about time to head to town to find some food. It was getting dark, and we wanted to get to town and eat and get back before it was too late.
We asked some people at the hotel how to get to town, and they said it was super easy. Just walk along the beach for a bit, turn off the beach onto a road. Take the first right from that road and follow it straight into town. Simple. We walked along the beach to the road, and saw our first right. It was a kind of scary, dark alley. A few yards past it was another right, that looked like the entrance to a construction site. We decided that they really meant the first right and took the alley.
We walked that alley for a few hundred yards, not super far, and walked right into a restaurant we had seen from the beach earlier. We told them we didn't have any cash, and they told us they didn't accept credit cards. I gave the guy a kind of weak "well, we'll find our way into town and get cash at the ATM and maybe come back tomorrow night." He went to get another guy who spoke English (Latins have a strange disease that causes them to hear all white people speaking English even when some of us speak Spanish just fine). That guy was Carlos.
Carlos was possibly the friendliest person I have ever met. He heard we were newlyweds and gave me a hug and kept congratulating me. Super-nice. He told us to just sit down and eat, and that he could give us directions to the ATM after dinner so we could pick up cash to pay him. He clearly was just happy to have customers, as the whole restaurant was empty.
The restaurant had a very interesting layout. There was no real theme or central organizing factor. The kitchen had a little bar-type window, with a couple fancy-looking couches and a weird-shaped coffee table. Like a classy coffee shop or something. Next to those was a little pergola with a table in the middle and a reclining bench looking out over the beach. Down half a dozen stairs on the beach was another similar pergola. There was a hot tub, and 4 or 5 more tables that didn't match. But with all this random stuff, it didn't seem messy or weird. It felt more like an eclectic collection of settings.
We sat down at the pergola and Carlos started telling us about the restaurant. He had a chef who used to be a famous Mexican movie star, and following his career in movies, he traveled to Tibet to learn how to "cook with the weather," which means tailor the menu to what the body needs depending on the heat, humidity, etc. Apparently you need more protein on dry days or something like that.
Carlos brought us some chips and salsa (which was made from 3 different peppers and 2 herbs harvested from the jungle), and offered us the local drink called Mayan Secret, which is booze with some sort of aphrodisiac properties. We politely declined and asked for some Pina Coladas sans alcohol.
As the night went on, the stories got more and more ridiculous. The mole took two days to cook, the seafood had been cooked underground in a clay pot, etc. He brought us a new salsa (this one was made with 2 peppers and 3 herbs, all of which were harvested fresh in the jungle). I'll have to come back some time to tell all the tall tales Carlos told, but I think you get the idea. The point is we really enjoyed our time there. He was chatty and fun, but left us alone enough that we didn't feel smothered.
At the end, he brought us some home made bread, on the house. Like everything else, it was fantastic. Remember, dear readers, that we had not paid at this point, and had no idea how much this evening was going to cost us (there were no menus, just the two dishes the famous cook made for us). Carlos had a little golf cart, and his wife was headed into town to take their son to a park, so he suggested that we hitch a ride with her, drive around town a bit, then just bring the cart back whenever we were ready to pay.
And that we did. We rode into town with his wife, whose name I can't remember right now, and she was charming to talk to. She pointed out the swamp right next to the road and said "sometimes crocodiles come out of there" as if she were saying "and here we have a tree with green leaves." No big deal. Just crocodiles.
We got to town, got cash, drove back, paid Carlos, and went back to the hotel. All in all, we had spent probably 3 hours at Carlos' place, just enjoying the company.
And now, this post is way too long, so I am going to break it into two.
Honeymoon
So, honeymoon. This is the second half of my honeymoon, followed by part II, which is (of course) the first part. Clear?
The next day was Christmas eve. Kate and I woke up and ate breakfast. Rancho has an open kitchen for breakfast, where they provide eggs, bread for toast, fruit, etc, but you have to cook it all. It was kind of fun. Kate and I ate, then went out on the balcony to play Yahtzee. That's right. We were on our honeymoon, on the beach in Mexico, playing Yahtzee. It was awesome.
We wandered the beach looking for cool shells to take back to the nieces and nephews (only to realize when we got home that they had all gone already...so we gave them all to the one set that lives in Texas), waded into the ocean, and in general had a great time. Maybe Kate can give more details on this, but mostly we relaxed.
That evening, Christmas Eve, we knew that Carlos was having a big party at the restaurant starting at 5. Lobster and all that. We figured we didn't want something so big, but we could definitely go for some drinks and chatting with Carlos again, so we went by about 8 hoping to miss the dinner but catch the party. When we got there, Raul, the cook, walked out of the kitchen. And boy, was he drunk. Very nice, but unmistakably drunk. No one else was there. Raul said that Carlos was in the city grabbing some supplies for the Christmas Eve dinner (that was supposed to have started already), so we figured he wouldn't be long.
So, we talked to Raul for a while. Where to even start? Kate went to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Raul, who offered me a Pina Colada. I accepted, and he invited me into the kitchen to talk with him while he made the drinks. It became pretty clear to me pretty fast that Raul had no idea how to make them. He said "So...Pina Colada...that's got coconut and pineapple, right? And ice?" I said yes, and he grabbed some pineapple juice, some coconut something, and some ice, and threw them in a blender.
We talked while he poured and mixed about his past (he repeated himself quite a bit, being extremely drunk and all). After retiring from the movies, he learned to cook from Jorge de la Silva, who had traveled to Japan to learn to cook with the weather (note that this is not the same story that Carlos told us the night before). Later the story changed yet again, and became even more incredible.
You see, a Japanese fighter pilot was shot down over Pearl Harbor, and swam back to Japan (I feel the need to put "seriously" after pretty much every sentence, so just insert it yourself- I promise this is exactly what he told me). When he (the pilot) got there, none of the doctors could treat his condition, so he went to China, where he was taught by a monk (I think) to treat his body with food. Proper eating apparently did more for shrapnel and bullet holes than medicine and stitches. So, somehow Jorge de la Silva found this ex-pilot and studied under him, and eventually came back to Mexico where he taught Raul.
Raul continued to tell crazy, incoherent, and very entertaining stories. Often these stories included his good friend, George of the Jungle. Again, I kid you not. We stayed there partly because the stories were so insane and entertaining that we couldn't leave, and partly because we couldn't leave this drunk, crazy person alone with a restaurant's stock of booze. Eventually, a van pulled up, and we were kind of glad that Carlos was there so we could wish him a merry Christmas, pass off custody of Raul, and go home.
But what's this? It wasn't Carlos at all! It was some white dude. He ran up to Raul, and they started rough-housing. Eventually it became clear that this man was George of the Jungle. He was some white hippy with a fanny-pack. Then came a stranger revelation. George of the Jungle. Jorge de la Silva. This was the same guy. This was the guy who went to Japan (or China or Tibet, depending on which rendition of the story) to learn to cook with the weather.
So, we started talking to Jorge. More like I started talking to Jorge while Raul continued to talk at Kate. When she had trouble understanding, he tried speaking English to her. But the problem was alcohol related, not language related, so it didn't help. Jorge loved the fact that I'm a scientist, and started telling me about his playmate-ex-girlfriend who got cancer, causing him to go on a journey of spiritual enlightenment or something. It was crazy. After a while of trying to talk to him rationally, I just started talking crazy right back at him and he loved it. He had clearly smoked some pot that day, and it was definitely influencing his thought process.
After a while, Raul started thinking about the hour of judgment, when Carlos would come back from the city (which we realized was Cancun, not the town) and find the bottle of Tequila mostly empty. So, he decided to go to town to buy another bottle. He got on his bike and started riding to town. After half a bottle of tequila. I was amazed that he made it out of the restaurant, but he did. About 15 minutes later, he came back and said he had only made it 100 feet up the alley before deciding to come back. After almost crashing into the table where we were sitting, he gave up on the bike. He had a much better idea. He hopped in the golf cart and drove to town.
This left Kate and me alone with Jorge. Jorge of the Jungle. I can't come close to portraying how crazy and entertaining it was to talk to this guy. He talked a lot about energy and auras and all that crap we associate with crazy people. We talked about science and cancer and what it means to be alive. He told us that he lives in a hut in the jungle and gives tours of Mayan ruins and teaches people to respect nature. And talk to animals.
Meeting Jorge was amazing, because some of the stories that Carlos and Raul told were starting to be corroborated. He lived in the jungle and harvested the spices and peppers for the salsa. He really did probably learn to cook from a shaman or a monk or whatever. It was all falling in to place.
Raul came back from town safely with a new bottle of tequila, a bottle of red wine (for Jorge to drink while he smoked some more pot), and two loaves of bread. The same bread that he "made" us the night before. After all the crazy stories they told, that one was the lie: that they made their own bread.
The conversation got crazier as Jorge turned to a long, drawn out allegory about the first organism to achieve self awareness. The allegory went on for a very long time, but never really went anywhere. Eventually the organism evolved into a dragon and something happened. It's hard to remember since it made no sense.
Then Carlos came home. There was a look of terror on his face when he saw Jorge talking to customers. The terror quickly turned to a resigned sadness, then quickly back to his old smiley self. I think it's like walking in to find the girl you have a crush on looking through your baby pictures with your mom. At first you're terrified, but then you say "meh, if she's still sitting there, that's got to mean something good." Carlos realized that if we hadn't left yet, we probably wouldn't get chased off. He went to the kitchen (and yelled at Raul for not starting the dinner yet), and came out eventually with two Mayan Secrets on the house for me and Kate. I explained that we don't drink alcohol, and he responded that this didn't have alcohol- only liquor. I again explained that we don't drink alcohol, and he said that it was made with fermented fruit juice. I finally explained that we didn't drink alcohol for religious reasons and he let it go. Such a nice guy not to take no for an answer.
Anyway, this is turning into the Carlos post. I'll end the story with one more moment of crazy. When we finally got to go, Jorge followed us down the stairs to the beach. He grabbed our hands and said some weird hippie prayer to Gaia or something and married us (I think).
It looks like I'll have to break this into three posts. See you in the next/previous one!
The next day was Christmas eve. Kate and I woke up and ate breakfast. Rancho has an open kitchen for breakfast, where they provide eggs, bread for toast, fruit, etc, but you have to cook it all. It was kind of fun. Kate and I ate, then went out on the balcony to play Yahtzee. That's right. We were on our honeymoon, on the beach in Mexico, playing Yahtzee. It was awesome.
We wandered the beach looking for cool shells to take back to the nieces and nephews (only to realize when we got home that they had all gone already...so we gave them all to the one set that lives in Texas), waded into the ocean, and in general had a great time. Maybe Kate can give more details on this, but mostly we relaxed.
That evening, Christmas Eve, we knew that Carlos was having a big party at the restaurant starting at 5. Lobster and all that. We figured we didn't want something so big, but we could definitely go for some drinks and chatting with Carlos again, so we went by about 8 hoping to miss the dinner but catch the party. When we got there, Raul, the cook, walked out of the kitchen. And boy, was he drunk. Very nice, but unmistakably drunk. No one else was there. Raul said that Carlos was in the city grabbing some supplies for the Christmas Eve dinner (that was supposed to have started already), so we figured he wouldn't be long.
So, we talked to Raul for a while. Where to even start? Kate went to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Raul, who offered me a Pina Colada. I accepted, and he invited me into the kitchen to talk with him while he made the drinks. It became pretty clear to me pretty fast that Raul had no idea how to make them. He said "So...Pina Colada...that's got coconut and pineapple, right? And ice?" I said yes, and he grabbed some pineapple juice, some coconut something, and some ice, and threw them in a blender.
We talked while he poured and mixed about his past (he repeated himself quite a bit, being extremely drunk and all). After retiring from the movies, he learned to cook from Jorge de la Silva, who had traveled to Japan to learn to cook with the weather (note that this is not the same story that Carlos told us the night before). Later the story changed yet again, and became even more incredible.
You see, a Japanese fighter pilot was shot down over Pearl Harbor, and swam back to Japan (I feel the need to put "seriously" after pretty much every sentence, so just insert it yourself- I promise this is exactly what he told me). When he (the pilot) got there, none of the doctors could treat his condition, so he went to China, where he was taught by a monk (I think) to treat his body with food. Proper eating apparently did more for shrapnel and bullet holes than medicine and stitches. So, somehow Jorge de la Silva found this ex-pilot and studied under him, and eventually came back to Mexico where he taught Raul.
Raul continued to tell crazy, incoherent, and very entertaining stories. Often these stories included his good friend, George of the Jungle. Again, I kid you not. We stayed there partly because the stories were so insane and entertaining that we couldn't leave, and partly because we couldn't leave this drunk, crazy person alone with a restaurant's stock of booze. Eventually, a van pulled up, and we were kind of glad that Carlos was there so we could wish him a merry Christmas, pass off custody of Raul, and go home.
But what's this? It wasn't Carlos at all! It was some white dude. He ran up to Raul, and they started rough-housing. Eventually it became clear that this man was George of the Jungle. He was some white hippy with a fanny-pack. Then came a stranger revelation. George of the Jungle. Jorge de la Silva. This was the same guy. This was the guy who went to Japan (or China or Tibet, depending on which rendition of the story) to learn to cook with the weather.
So, we started talking to Jorge. More like I started talking to Jorge while Raul continued to talk at Kate. When she had trouble understanding, he tried speaking English to her. But the problem was alcohol related, not language related, so it didn't help. Jorge loved the fact that I'm a scientist, and started telling me about his playmate-ex-girlfriend who got cancer, causing him to go on a journey of spiritual enlightenment or something. It was crazy. After a while of trying to talk to him rationally, I just started talking crazy right back at him and he loved it. He had clearly smoked some pot that day, and it was definitely influencing his thought process.
After a while, Raul started thinking about the hour of judgment, when Carlos would come back from the city (which we realized was Cancun, not the town) and find the bottle of Tequila mostly empty. So, he decided to go to town to buy another bottle. He got on his bike and started riding to town. After half a bottle of tequila. I was amazed that he made it out of the restaurant, but he did. About 15 minutes later, he came back and said he had only made it 100 feet up the alley before deciding to come back. After almost crashing into the table where we were sitting, he gave up on the bike. He had a much better idea. He hopped in the golf cart and drove to town.
This left Kate and me alone with Jorge. Jorge of the Jungle. I can't come close to portraying how crazy and entertaining it was to talk to this guy. He talked a lot about energy and auras and all that crap we associate with crazy people. We talked about science and cancer and what it means to be alive. He told us that he lives in a hut in the jungle and gives tours of Mayan ruins and teaches people to respect nature. And talk to animals.
Meeting Jorge was amazing, because some of the stories that Carlos and Raul told were starting to be corroborated. He lived in the jungle and harvested the spices and peppers for the salsa. He really did probably learn to cook from a shaman or a monk or whatever. It was all falling in to place.
Raul came back from town safely with a new bottle of tequila, a bottle of red wine (for Jorge to drink while he smoked some more pot), and two loaves of bread. The same bread that he "made" us the night before. After all the crazy stories they told, that one was the lie: that they made their own bread.
The conversation got crazier as Jorge turned to a long, drawn out allegory about the first organism to achieve self awareness. The allegory went on for a very long time, but never really went anywhere. Eventually the organism evolved into a dragon and something happened. It's hard to remember since it made no sense.
Then Carlos came home. There was a look of terror on his face when he saw Jorge talking to customers. The terror quickly turned to a resigned sadness, then quickly back to his old smiley self. I think it's like walking in to find the girl you have a crush on looking through your baby pictures with your mom. At first you're terrified, but then you say "meh, if she's still sitting there, that's got to mean something good." Carlos realized that if we hadn't left yet, we probably wouldn't get chased off. He went to the kitchen (and yelled at Raul for not starting the dinner yet), and came out eventually with two Mayan Secrets on the house for me and Kate. I explained that we don't drink alcohol, and he responded that this didn't have alcohol- only liquor. I again explained that we don't drink alcohol, and he said that it was made with fermented fruit juice. I finally explained that we didn't drink alcohol for religious reasons and he let it go. Such a nice guy not to take no for an answer.
Anyway, this is turning into the Carlos post. I'll end the story with one more moment of crazy. When we finally got to go, Jorge followed us down the stairs to the beach. He grabbed our hands and said some weird hippie prayer to Gaia or something and married us (I think).
It looks like I'll have to break this into three posts. See you in the next/previous one!
Honeymoon part 0
So, that was Christmas Eve. I promise that the rest of these will be shorter. Heck, why am I apologizing? If you're bored, go somewhere else.
The snow of Christmas morn fell like...wait a minute, we were on the beach. Scratch the snow thing.
We went to a nearby underground lake called a Cenote (which, I think is "sinkhole" in Spanish). We got a ride (since we didn't have a car there) with a couple of gay French tourists. I don't say gay just because they were French. George and Pascal were traveling in Mexico and were staying at our hotel. We went out to the Cenote and swam around for a while. It was really nice. The water was clear down as far as you could see, which was pretty far. It was kind of creepy, if you let it be. George and Pascal were very nice and very fun to be with. We swam around the Cenote for the better part of an hour.
From there we went to a different hotel. The parent company that owned Rancho was opening up another hotel in the middle of the jungle, and as a sort of publicity thing they took everybody who was staying at Rancho out there for a lunch and a tour. The hotel was very nice. Only 8 rooms, one of which was occupied by the staff. There was no internet, no cell reception, and no access to the land line except for staff use. It was very quiet (and intentionally so). They didn't even allow children to stay there.
Kate and I, being weird, thought the place would be the ideal setting for a slasher film. I mean, honestly, it's a small hotel in the middle of the jungle with only one road leading there, you can't use phones, and they lock you in at night (because it's in the middle of the jungle and it's not safe to go out). So we started sketching out a scary story filled with the people we had met set at that hotel. Maybe one day we'll get around to filling in more details and Kate will write it.
When we got back to our hotel, it was close to dinner time, so we wandered into town and went to a seafood restaurant. The waiter was really nice and attentive, mostly because it was raining and it was Christmas, so he didn't have much else to do. He (like everybody else in this place) talked lots about Mayans and all that. When he came out with Kate's Coke, he walked it out on top of his head. Dude must have been to finishing school.
The next day, Kate and I woke up early to watch the sunrise. Yes, I know it's lame. We get to do at least one lame romanticy thing on our honeymoon. Anyway, it was beautiful. Sunrise on the water is very nice.
After that, Kate went back to bed for a bit. I went down to the common room to grab something, and when I left, the door slammed on my foot and broke my pinky toe. I didn't go to the hospital or anything, because there's not much they can do, but I did go to bed to complain to my wife.
Later that day we went into town, walking slowly because of my foot. I guess I haven't even talked about the town much so this is as good a place as any to do that. It was a simple little place with a main square and not much else. In the square was a nice little park for the kids. There was a fountain in one corner that looked like a Mayan pyramid. The square was right next to the beach, so you could see the water. There were lots of restaurants and shops all over, as well as hawkers standing outside the stores trying to get the white people to come in and give them money.
We realized that we hadn't bought any cheap touristy crap, and that's kind of a must when you go on vacation. We wandered around looking, but didn't really see much. It was kind of interesting to see that in all the shops on the main street they sold the same crap (as is to be expected), but then later we found a little way off the main street the actual workshops that made the crap and sold it way cheaper. Weird, that.
In one store, Kate was looking at jewelry. One of the guys there held up an amber necklace and said "real pearls, real pearls!" trying to get Kate to buy it. Clearly, not the brightest. The other guy in the shop said (in Spanish), "dude, that's amber..." to which the first guy replied, "ah, it's all the same to them." Then he saw me snickering and remembered that I had talked to him in Spanish when we walked in. With a guilty look, he said "You speak Spanish, don't you?" Silly kids.
We went into town to a Chinese place called Hello Asia. Before you judge our choice, let me say this: I wanted to see if Mexican Chinese food was the same as American Chinese food, because I know that German Chinese food is different. We were curious. Turns out, it is the same. Good, but the same.
My foot was aching in a way that even ice cream couldn't cure (not that we didn't try), so we decided to head back to the hotel and spend the rest of the day in hammocks on the beach.
The next day was our last in Mexico. We could have spent the morning snorkeling, or touring the town, or any of a number of things, but we just wanted to sit in hammocks and enjoy the last hours of vacation. Right after lunch, our taxi came to take us to the airport. We got there over 2 hours early, and there were huge lines to check in. The bad weather in the Northeast US was making everybody's day miserable. Kate and I accidentally got into the (unlabeled) "people trying to fly to the Northeast whose flights got screwed up and will take forever to help" line, but we eventually got to the right place. It took an hour and a half to get us checked in.
We ran through security (which was slowed by a bag check where we were informed that chocolate is a liquid and cannot be taken through), and made it to our flight. Somehow we managed to get in the last boarding group again and not to be sitting together again. The nice folks next to us let us switch seats, and all ended well. On the plane my toe was hurting pretty bad, so I asked the flight attendant for a plastic bag full of ice, thinking I would get a small zip-lock size bag. She came back with a huge, shopping-tote sized bag full of ice. I was very thankful, as it lasted till I got to Huntsville.
Customs in America took like an hour (I don't remember how long). We just stood in the line, moving our two bags and huge bag of ice (which I kept on my foot most of the time- nobody told me that it is only beneficial for 10 minutes at a time). Eventually we got through, and out of the airport. The Hotel shuttle (we parked at the hotel) took forever as well, because the driver didn't want to leave anyone out in the cold. He packed 15 people into a 12 person van (with 12 seatbelts...) and we got back to the truck, and on the road.
We stopped at Whataburger because, let's be honest, we'll miss it while we're here in Michigan, then headed to Huntsville.
Honeymoon over.
The snow of Christmas morn fell like...wait a minute, we were on the beach. Scratch the snow thing.
We went to a nearby underground lake called a Cenote (which, I think is "sinkhole" in Spanish). We got a ride (since we didn't have a car there) with a couple of gay French tourists. I don't say gay just because they were French. George and Pascal were traveling in Mexico and were staying at our hotel. We went out to the Cenote and swam around for a while. It was really nice. The water was clear down as far as you could see, which was pretty far. It was kind of creepy, if you let it be. George and Pascal were very nice and very fun to be with. We swam around the Cenote for the better part of an hour.
From there we went to a different hotel. The parent company that owned Rancho was opening up another hotel in the middle of the jungle, and as a sort of publicity thing they took everybody who was staying at Rancho out there for a lunch and a tour. The hotel was very nice. Only 8 rooms, one of which was occupied by the staff. There was no internet, no cell reception, and no access to the land line except for staff use. It was very quiet (and intentionally so). They didn't even allow children to stay there.
Kate and I, being weird, thought the place would be the ideal setting for a slasher film. I mean, honestly, it's a small hotel in the middle of the jungle with only one road leading there, you can't use phones, and they lock you in at night (because it's in the middle of the jungle and it's not safe to go out). So we started sketching out a scary story filled with the people we had met set at that hotel. Maybe one day we'll get around to filling in more details and Kate will write it.
When we got back to our hotel, it was close to dinner time, so we wandered into town and went to a seafood restaurant. The waiter was really nice and attentive, mostly because it was raining and it was Christmas, so he didn't have much else to do. He (like everybody else in this place) talked lots about Mayans and all that. When he came out with Kate's Coke, he walked it out on top of his head. Dude must have been to finishing school.
The next day, Kate and I woke up early to watch the sunrise. Yes, I know it's lame. We get to do at least one lame romanticy thing on our honeymoon. Anyway, it was beautiful. Sunrise on the water is very nice.
After that, Kate went back to bed for a bit. I went down to the common room to grab something, and when I left, the door slammed on my foot and broke my pinky toe. I didn't go to the hospital or anything, because there's not much they can do, but I did go to bed to complain to my wife.
Later that day we went into town, walking slowly because of my foot. I guess I haven't even talked about the town much so this is as good a place as any to do that. It was a simple little place with a main square and not much else. In the square was a nice little park for the kids. There was a fountain in one corner that looked like a Mayan pyramid. The square was right next to the beach, so you could see the water. There were lots of restaurants and shops all over, as well as hawkers standing outside the stores trying to get the white people to come in and give them money.
We realized that we hadn't bought any cheap touristy crap, and that's kind of a must when you go on vacation. We wandered around looking, but didn't really see much. It was kind of interesting to see that in all the shops on the main street they sold the same crap (as is to be expected), but then later we found a little way off the main street the actual workshops that made the crap and sold it way cheaper. Weird, that.
In one store, Kate was looking at jewelry. One of the guys there held up an amber necklace and said "real pearls, real pearls!" trying to get Kate to buy it. Clearly, not the brightest. The other guy in the shop said (in Spanish), "dude, that's amber..." to which the first guy replied, "ah, it's all the same to them." Then he saw me snickering and remembered that I had talked to him in Spanish when we walked in. With a guilty look, he said "You speak Spanish, don't you?" Silly kids.
We went into town to a Chinese place called Hello Asia. Before you judge our choice, let me say this: I wanted to see if Mexican Chinese food was the same as American Chinese food, because I know that German Chinese food is different. We were curious. Turns out, it is the same. Good, but the same.
My foot was aching in a way that even ice cream couldn't cure (not that we didn't try), so we decided to head back to the hotel and spend the rest of the day in hammocks on the beach.
The next day was our last in Mexico. We could have spent the morning snorkeling, or touring the town, or any of a number of things, but we just wanted to sit in hammocks and enjoy the last hours of vacation. Right after lunch, our taxi came to take us to the airport. We got there over 2 hours early, and there were huge lines to check in. The bad weather in the Northeast US was making everybody's day miserable. Kate and I accidentally got into the (unlabeled) "people trying to fly to the Northeast whose flights got screwed up and will take forever to help" line, but we eventually got to the right place. It took an hour and a half to get us checked in.
We ran through security (which was slowed by a bag check where we were informed that chocolate is a liquid and cannot be taken through), and made it to our flight. Somehow we managed to get in the last boarding group again and not to be sitting together again. The nice folks next to us let us switch seats, and all ended well. On the plane my toe was hurting pretty bad, so I asked the flight attendant for a plastic bag full of ice, thinking I would get a small zip-lock size bag. She came back with a huge, shopping-tote sized bag full of ice. I was very thankful, as it lasted till I got to Huntsville.
Customs in America took like an hour (I don't remember how long). We just stood in the line, moving our two bags and huge bag of ice (which I kept on my foot most of the time- nobody told me that it is only beneficial for 10 minutes at a time). Eventually we got through, and out of the airport. The Hotel shuttle (we parked at the hotel) took forever as well, because the driver didn't want to leave anyone out in the cold. He packed 15 people into a 12 person van (with 12 seatbelts...) and we got back to the truck, and on the road.
We stopped at Whataburger because, let's be honest, we'll miss it while we're here in Michigan, then headed to Huntsville.
Honeymoon over.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The drive
My last post was about Monday and Tuesday, so for this one we're going back in time to Sunday. It's a weak excuse for a Back to the Future reference, but I'll take it.
So, Sunday morning very early Kate and I left Texas for the long drive to Michigan. We had the truck packed and tarped, so everything was ready. We woke up at 1:30 in the morning and were on the road at 2:01. For those of you who don't know, that's early.
Kate took the first shift and drove till the sun came up. Then I drove till lunch or so, and Kate took another turn, and we alternated till we got to Michigan. We made the whole trip in a little over 16 hours. Not bad. The weather was good, and the only complaint was that police enforce the speed limit in Illinois. Seriously. No tickets this time. We did see lots of people get pulled over, though, so we kept the cruise control carefully set at 65.
When we got to our apartment, we spent half an hour unloading the truck and were about ready to call it a night. I was beat, Kate was beat, so we ordered a pizza and ate sitting on the floor (because the kitchen table had boxes on it).
This was when I learned that I had, in fact, married a woman. You see, I was tired and felt gross from a day in the car, so I decided to take a shower. I grabbed a towel that we had been given and headed for the shower. It was a very nice towel, soft, white, and monogrammed. Kate saw me and said "You can't use that towel, it's white." To me, that's like saying "You can't use that rectangle, it's a square." You see, to men, towels serve one purpose. They absorb water from wet things like bodies after a shower. White towels are a subset of towels, so by definition they are towels. Therefore, white towels serve one purpose: drying wet things.
It turns out that white towels (especially monogrammed white towels) are for display. To look pretty. So, I dug through some boxes to find a blue towel and took a shower. I guess Kate has some work to do teaching me what's what.
So, Sunday morning very early Kate and I left Texas for the long drive to Michigan. We had the truck packed and tarped, so everything was ready. We woke up at 1:30 in the morning and were on the road at 2:01. For those of you who don't know, that's early.
Kate took the first shift and drove till the sun came up. Then I drove till lunch or so, and Kate took another turn, and we alternated till we got to Michigan. We made the whole trip in a little over 16 hours. Not bad. The weather was good, and the only complaint was that police enforce the speed limit in Illinois. Seriously. No tickets this time. We did see lots of people get pulled over, though, so we kept the cruise control carefully set at 65.
When we got to our apartment, we spent half an hour unloading the truck and were about ready to call it a night. I was beat, Kate was beat, so we ordered a pizza and ate sitting on the floor (because the kitchen table had boxes on it).
This was when I learned that I had, in fact, married a woman. You see, I was tired and felt gross from a day in the car, so I decided to take a shower. I grabbed a towel that we had been given and headed for the shower. It was a very nice towel, soft, white, and monogrammed. Kate saw me and said "You can't use that towel, it's white." To me, that's like saying "You can't use that rectangle, it's a square." You see, to men, towels serve one purpose. They absorb water from wet things like bodies after a shower. White towels are a subset of towels, so by definition they are towels. Therefore, white towels serve one purpose: drying wet things.
It turns out that white towels (especially monogrammed white towels) are for display. To look pretty. So, I dug through some boxes to find a blue towel and took a shower. I guess Kate has some work to do teaching me what's what.
First day of work
Well, friends, for those of you who don't know, I recently got married. More on that to come (I haven't written anything about it because I've been pretty busy with finals then getting married then driving from Texas to Michigan, then starting a new lab...lots to do).
So, Kate and I spent most of Monday settling in to our new place. There was lots to do. The AT&T guy came to help us hook up our internet and took forever. I'm pretty sure he made another service call in the middle of helping us. He was there at our apartment, sort of in and out a few times to the truck to get tools or whatever, then he left. Didn't say anything, didn't ask if we were planning on being there for the next hour, just left. The only way we knew he wasn't done was that he left some tools on our living room floor. An hour later, he came back and went back to work without saying anything about having been gone.
Then, when he left after several hours, he informed us that we were ready to install our internet. I was a bit confused because I thought that was what he had been doing, but he kindly informed me that we were self-install customers, and that he was just making sure that the phone lines were ready for us to do the installation ourselves. So, that was weird.
By the time he left it was after 2PM, so I just decided to stick around the apartment and help Kate unpack stuff and organize. There's a lot of that to do, it turns out. The next day I went to work in Lyle's lab, which is being pretty fun so far. I'll probably talk more about that once I get caught up on past events.
On Tuesday I came home from work on the bus, and it was cold. I was tired. And when I walked in the house, Kate said those three simple words every man longs to hear. "Dinner is ready." It was beautiful. She had thrown some meat and stuff in the slow cooker and we had it over rice. Simple for her, wonderful for me. I truly have a great wife.
So, Kate and I spent most of Monday settling in to our new place. There was lots to do. The AT&T guy came to help us hook up our internet and took forever. I'm pretty sure he made another service call in the middle of helping us. He was there at our apartment, sort of in and out a few times to the truck to get tools or whatever, then he left. Didn't say anything, didn't ask if we were planning on being there for the next hour, just left. The only way we knew he wasn't done was that he left some tools on our living room floor. An hour later, he came back and went back to work without saying anything about having been gone.
Then, when he left after several hours, he informed us that we were ready to install our internet. I was a bit confused because I thought that was what he had been doing, but he kindly informed me that we were self-install customers, and that he was just making sure that the phone lines were ready for us to do the installation ourselves. So, that was weird.
By the time he left it was after 2PM, so I just decided to stick around the apartment and help Kate unpack stuff and organize. There's a lot of that to do, it turns out. The next day I went to work in Lyle's lab, which is being pretty fun so far. I'll probably talk more about that once I get caught up on past events.
On Tuesday I came home from work on the bus, and it was cold. I was tired. And when I walked in the house, Kate said those three simple words every man longs to hear. "Dinner is ready." It was beautiful. She had thrown some meat and stuff in the slow cooker and we had it over rice. Simple for her, wonderful for me. I truly have a great wife.
Back from the dead
No, not in the way you're thinking.
More like I'm just less busy now and am going to blog the last month or so of my life in reverse chronological order. It'll be kind of like watching Citizen Kane, except that I've never seen it so I don't know if that holds.
Anyway, enjoy!
More like I'm just less busy now and am going to blog the last month or so of my life in reverse chronological order. It'll be kind of like watching Citizen Kane, except that I've never seen it so I don't know if that holds.
Anyway, enjoy!
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