Dinner At Buca Di Beppo

We wanted dinner. We were tired. We wanted to stay close to the hotel.

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Helaine and I walked through the parking lot to Buca di Beppo. Who knew it was a chain? Well, you probably. We went in as innocents.

As soon as we entered, I thought to myself, I’ve been here before? Buca di Beppo is the spitting image of a restaurant my friend Howard favors on Ventura Blvd. somewhere in the San Fernando Valley.

In fact if I find out this chain was ‘inspired’ by Howard’s restaurant, I won’t be surprised.

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We walked through the kitchen, past a table where some lucky customers ate to one of many different dining areas. Though each is different, they’re all meant to be over-the-top Italian. It’s not a put down, but an homage.

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One small room contains a solitary round table, big enough for a family. The center of the table rotates, so you can pass things back and forth. Since it’s too large to use the middle, that portion of the table has been taken up by a bust of Pope John Paul II.

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We shared shrimp scampi, which was very good. Truth is, the decor was more fun.

We leave in the morning for a very long drive to Kayenta, AZ. Google says it’s 332 miles, most of which is off the Interstate.

We’re Floating

Photo from my Motorola RAZR cameraphone

14 Oct ’06, 10.33am EDT

Originally uploaded by Geoff Fox.

Though I’m typing this text from the hotel, the photo was sent through my cellphone while cruising at around 1,500 feet over Albuquerque.

We are bushed! This is the part of the vacation when I get behind in my postings. I’ve got photos from last night and today to get online.

Here’s the important part – We flew. It was great, even though it wasn’t really sunny. And, we landed on a street!

More later from Albuquerque.


Full Day And The Glowdeo

After the morning balloon session, Helaine and I returned to the hotel for a while. The Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta has distinct morning and evening sessions (with separate admissions).

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After a brief nap it was off to the tramway which climbs Sandia Peak. Only one problem. Everyone else in Albuquerque had the same idea. The Friday afternoon wait was two hours! Helaine wasn’t going to take the tram to the top anyway, so we left.

Even from the base of the tramway, over 6,000 feet above sea level, the view was excellent.

Next destination was Old Town Albuquerque, a picturesque area of artsy stores and native craftsmen. We walked around for a while and Helaine found something for Stef.

The Fox Family Secrecy Act of 2006 prevents me from disclosing what she got.

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By the way, parking near Old Town is interesting. The parking lot has a series of boxes at one end. Each box has a slot where you put your money for parking. I slipped two dollars in the space marked 122.

We ended up overstaying our time, but got no ticket. I suspect it’s not heavily enforced. In fact, it sound like my money went all the way to the bottom, not my individual ‘cash cubby.’

Old Town is conveniently located next to Albuquerque’s museums. Helaine asked if I wanted to go to the Natural History Museum? I would have, had I not spied a small building, previously used for something else. It was the National Atomic Museum.

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The signs outside made it look a little off center and not afraid to poke a little fun of itself. Was this a real museum or a sly museum takeoff?

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The first thing I noticed inside was a collection of slide rules. I stopped to gape. This was my kind of place. Before calculators, I was a slide rule expert.

In the history of atomic energy, New Mexico stands tall. Remember, there’s a lot of space here… lots of room to do things you don’t want found out. Our first atomic test was held not far from Albuquerque.

We paid our admission, walked in, and quickly walked into the theater where a movie was about to start; “Ten Seconds That Changed The World.”

Narrated by Richard Basehart and produced by the legendary David L. Wolper, this was a collection of grainy black and white footage which traced the real history of the atomic age, all the way to Hiroshima.

It seemed like it was originally cut for TV with distinct fades to black for commercial inserts. Whatever the case, it was fascinating. It was jam packed with historical film I’d never seen before – really good stuff from the 40s.

As we left, Helaine said, “That was worth the price of admission.” It was.

We only spent a few more minutes in the museum before heading back to the hotel and then the park-n-ride bus to Balloon Fiesta Park. There sure is a lot more traffic on a Friday evening than a pre-dawn Friday morning.

It was still light out as we approached the park. A dozen or so balloons floated about the area. The real action was shaping up on the field.

The Sun went down. The balloons lit up. The was a “Glowdeo.”

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Tethered balloons were kept inflated enough to float up, while their attached baskets sat on the ground. Lit from the inside, the balloons glowed in the fading twilight.

I can’t imagine there’s anything else like this anywhere. There were dozens… maybe hundreds of balloons. Most of the time, each was dark, sometimes illuminated by neighboring balloons. The scene was constantly changing and since the balloons were all cheek to jowel, walking a few feet changed the perspective.

I decided to leave my tripod in the car and take my monopod. The monopod provides plenty of support, but not the rock solid steadiness you’d get from a tripod.

In a perfect world, the tripod would have been a better choice. With a few hundred thousand of our closest friends it would have been a significantly more cumbersome one.

To make up for the monopod’s shortcomings and the fact that the gas jets on the balloons were constantly going on and off, I overshot. Sometimes I shot 4,5,6 snaps of the same thing, hoping one would work.

I also kept the shutter very slow, having it open for a quarter second at times. That kind of setting almost guarantees some blur, but most of my shots are very sharp.

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As the “Glowdeo” came to an end, we grabbed some tasty junk food and waited for the fireworks… but this was the end of a very long day. About two thirds through the fireworks I turned to Helaine and said, “Let’s head to the bus.”

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We caught the spectacular display at the end from the bus stop, but there was little strength left between us to get excited. As the only event of the day the fireworks would haev been great, but we were well into sensory overload.

In the morning we fly… or at least we’re scheduled to fly in a balloon. The forecast has a chance for showers and lots of clouds. It’s iffy, but I’m cautiously optimistic.

Helaine’s never flown in wicker before. It’s a great experience. I’m really looking forward to it.

Blogger’s note: This is my 2,000th blog entry.

The Balloons Fly

Photo from my Motorola RAZR cameraphone

13 Oct ’06, 9.46am EDT

Originally uploaded by Geoff Fox.

More to come. This is from my cellphone, taken in Balloon Fiesta Park in Albuquerque, NM. The mass ascension Friday morning was beautiful.


ABQ – We’re here

You can’t sleep well on a plane. You can sleep fitfully. That’s what I did for a good portion of our Baltimore to Albuquerque flight.

Albuquerque’s airport is unusual because there are no rental car counters. A rental shuttle, which serves all the companies, takes you to what looks like the rent-a-car mall.

Everything was quick and easy.

I asked the agent for a car with satellite radio. He said “maybe,” there weren’t many cars around. As it turned out, I was fine. Most of the cars had XM.

I ended up with a white Impala with a gigantic trunk.

With Casey Kasem on the radio with a classic American Top-40, we set out finding the hotel. It wasn’t too much of a problem. Only one u-turn! Even Google can’t get everything right.

We’re on the 7th floor, and the fun begins in the morning.

You have on idea how tired I am right now.

On Our Way

Greetings from Gate 6 at Bradley International Airport. Our plane is listed ‘on time’, though there’s no plane at Gate 6 right now. We fly to Baltimore, stop for dinner, then board another flight to Albuquerque.

The Albuquerque airport is called the “Sunport.” A little too cute for an airport.

I pulled up at the curb, took the bags out of the car and milled around, hoping no policeman would ask me to move along. The idea was to get the bags checked, then drop off the car at long term parking. It worked.

We passed security unscathed. If I would have removed any more clothing, I could have been arrested for indecent exposure.

Some folks were being sent through a ‘puffer.’ I don’t know what it does, but I feel no more secure knowing it’s there. I’m sure GE, whose large logo is festooned on the side, is thrilled.

As we removed our sneakers, a steady beep came from a line of passengers nearby. A fierce looking 80 year old woman was being given the once over. Something she brought through the X-Ray machine wasn’t making the screeners happy.

Considering my feelings about the screening process, you might think I’m making this up. I am not.

As we continued through the screening area, I flashed back to the first real estate closing I ever had – the one for our condo when Helaine and I moved to Connecticut. That morning I looked at all the people sitting at the table and thought, “I’m paying for all these people. Why?”

The TSA’s secure area is now plastered with signs printed on 8 1/2 by 11 inch paper. Take off your shoes. Are your gels in small see-through plastic bags? Are you packing fireworks? It’s beginning to resemble the DMV with its institutionalized surliness.

Where are the good old days when the only signs you saw warned you about Murtala Mohammed Airport?

Oh, there’s one more thing about the airport. At least at this gate, the PA system is set at stun level.

At last check, the weather forecast for our Saturday morning balloon ride was still iffy. I’m hoping for better news.

See you from New Mexico.