Archive for the ‘Travel’ Category

I am visiting Kuala Lumpur for a few days and really enjoying seeing the many delightful friends I’ve made over the last five years.

Staying in a nice, clean hotel. Staff has been great. No complaints.

Until.

Yesterday, I was finishing up something when the guy came to clean the room. When I made my way out of the room he had just finished making up the bed.

I came back a bit later and he was gone. Noticed a stain on the bed cover. Looked like someone spilled coffee. And the mark obviously didn’t come out in the wash. Certainly knew it wasn’t me since the only thing I drank in the room was water.

Besides, it was a new cover. He had taken mine off and put the “fresh” one on the bed.

Left to meet a friend for coffee and when I returned the fellow who cleans the room was back. Making up the bed again.

I said, “Oh, you’re back.”

He replied that he was changing the bed cover because of the stain. Or something like that.

What I wanted to discuss-but didn’t want to lose him in conversation-is why on earth he kept the stained cover on the neatly made bed? Once he discovered the stain why not take it off and go find an unstained one?  

Weird.

This morning I hopped out of the shower and grabbed a neatly folded towel. It felt strange. I then took a good look at it. It had holes in it. Torn and worn.

towel

Weird.

I’m not blaming the cleaning guy (stain boy) who restocks the towel shelf in the bathroom. Because it was probably already folded in the laundry when it got to his cart.

Here’s my question.

Who folded it and thought it passed muster?

We’ve all folded a towel, right? And we all know that no matter how you fold a towel chances are pretty good that you would notice if it was torn nearly in half. No?

I’m not making a fuss. I thought both incidents were sort of funny in an odd way.

I will give my feedback to the hotel. But I’m still really curious.

 

 

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

I have a little more than a week in India under my belt. Yay!

No friends yet but I’m really okay with that for the moment.

Totally chilling after a very busy and sometimes trying year.

The other day I planned to make lamb chops for my husband.

Are you sick of the same old “blah” lamb chop/pork chop dishes? This one is so easy and so delicious. Here it is. I’ve used it for pork and lamb.

http://www.grandbaby-cakes.com/2015/06/balsamic-brown-sugar-lamb-chops/

Anyway, I went to a nice grocery and the meat department didn’t have the cut I wanted.

So, I was taken to a very local butcher by the driver. Place was totally real.

Before you get all, “Oooh, Mary has a driver. She must think she’s something else! Isn’t she a lucky duck!” please remember that this is India and a lot of companies do not allow their employees or families to drive here. So transportation is usually provided. You’d only need to be in Delhi for five minutes before realizing this is a very safe and sound decision on the employers’ part.

Back to the local butcher shop down a Delhi side street.

I walk in and ask for lamb chops. Try not to look around too much because I don’t want to see too much by way of a butcher shop. Like blood or extras if you know what I mean.

The butcher, who is sitting, understands and has his assistant grab the meat from behind a counter. Young guy hands it to the head honcho who then asks me how much I want. I tell him.

He has his butcher’s knife firmly planted between his feet. Yes, that is correct. Knife between his two feet.

Then he takes the meat with his hands and brings it down toward the feet clamped knife and slices the lamb chops for me.

Okay, that’s not something you see every day.

I pay him and am soon on my way back home.

There is no way I am telling my husband the butcher feet story. He’d never eat the meal.

I clean the meat and make my lamb chops.

My husband keeps saying how good it is. Happily chewing away. And it was really good. If I do say so myself.

All of a sudden, he’s got a funny look on his face and is taking something out of his mouth. It looked like a bit of bone.

Oh my gosh. What bit is it? I knew this butcher thing probably wasn’t a good idea.

It ends up being his temporary partial bridge! Poor guy! Must have been the slightly sticky (although yummy) brown sugar sauce.

Ingredient related. Age related. But not butcher related. Whew!

Just the same, I think I’ll hold off on any future butcher shop visits.

At least, for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

I was on one of my visits to New York City. This was a couple of years ago. Totally enjoyed it.

Happened to be outside the hotel one evening and a fellow strikes up a conversation. He was from England. First time in the States. Said that his fourteen year old daughter had wanted to see the 9/11 Memorial.

This guy had nothing good to say about his visit.

He talked plenty about his little garden in Leicestershire (or one of the ‘shires) and how peaceful it is. Also mentioned his work hours (an hour and a half for lunch and home by 4:30pm!)

Bemoaned the long lines (queues) and the expense of New York. He wondered how Donald Trump could have all that money when there are homeless folks in the city.

He said more than once, “How do people live here? How do they do it? It’s not for me.” And he apologized, “I’m sorry. This is just not for me.”

I told him there was no need to apologize to me.

He continued chatting. Said he did a lot of charity back home. His mother was giving and charitable. Had Diwali and Christmas celebrations where everyone was welcome.

He said, “But I guess we can’t change the world.”

I was quick to advise him that we can only do our part. That’s all you can do.

But I sort of felt bad for him. It did sound like he had a nice simple life (and schedule) back home. But he was on a holiday. No one was wanting him to give up his life in the garden or time at his Mom’s house. Cast it all away for a life in the Big Apple.

I kept trying to counter every negative (because there were so many) with a positive. “Well, did you see this? Did you go there? What about the food?”

No positive responses.

He was leaving at 6:00am the next morning.

Finally, I asked, “Did your daughter enjoy it?”

And he said, “Yes.”

So I said, “Well, alright then. There’s something.”

Hoping that everyone, as summer comes to a close, truly finds something to enjoy. It really is what you make of it.

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

I received an email from my husband the other day. Most likely from his phone. He is currently living in India while I have been in the U.S. with my daughter for the summer. We were fortunate to see each other for a few days this past July in New York.

The email’s subject was  “Girl Part Needed.”

Ummm, okay.

I was a little taken aback. I know that we have not seen each other in a month and I get that he misses me but he usually verbalizes this and doesn’t ever put anything racy in writing. He knows the woman he married–I am a bit conservative when it comes to that sort of thing.

Then I see the three accompanying links and I am afraid to click on them.

I shouldn’t have worried.

The three links were for grill parts. He wanted me to order them and bring them to India. So that we can barbecue when I finally arrive in India.

I should have known.

#autocorrect

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Flush

I was in Vermont at the end of June with my daughter who is preparing for university. We were in a hotel room getting ready for the day.

She was in the bathroom drying her hair and her bracelet somehow became unclasped and flew across the room and plunked right into the toilet.

Kerplunk!

What are the chances? Even considering the smallness of a hotel bathroom.

Why didn’t it land in the sink, tub or behind the toilet?

I glanced down at the clean bowl of water. The “Evil Eye” bracelet was staring up at me with something like eleven blue eyes.

Hmmmm. What to do? I’m not overly superstitious but did think that maybe we should attempt to save a piece of jewelry that was designed to ward off evil spirits. Didn’t seem too cool that it was sitting at the bottom of a toilet bowl.

I said hesitantly, “I’ll………”

She replied, “No, Mom, it’s okay. No, don’t.”

“Okay, but I would have totally done that for you.”

“We will see what housekeeping will do. Maybe they’ll flush it or retrieve it.”

Arrived back to the room later in the day and it was gone. We will never know if it was flushed, retrieved, trashed or repurposed on someone else’s wrist. And that’s just fine.

I did, however, have to ask my daughter this question.

“Honestly, what would you have done if it was your iPhone that ended up in the toilet?”

Don’t have to be a genius to figure out that answer.

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

I dropped my daughter off at the Rhode Island airport yesterday.

On the ride, I reminisced a bit.

Said, “Reminds me of all the times Papa (my father) picked us up at this very airport.”

I continued, “Papa knew a lot of people. Whenever we were out with him there would invariably be the hearty hello or head nod to/from some random person.”

Some years ago Dad was milling about the luggage carousel looking for my bags. Think we just arrived from Dallas via Chicago.

Guy walks by, “Hey, Pat, how are ya?”

Dad responds in kind.

Rhode Island is a small state. No surprise that you would run into someone you know. Or their cousin.

Few minutes later a woman strolls by, “Hi Pat! How are you?”

Dad smiles and asks her how she’s been.

Okay, doesn’t stop there. More and more people in our path with same, “Hi Pat, how are you?”

Ummm, Dad, this is getting crazy.

Dad finally clued me in on the situation. These people were all members of an Irish society based in Rhode Island. Can’t remember now whether it was the Irish Ceilidhe Club or Ireland’s 32 Society. Or another group.

Apparently they had been on a trip (and on same flight as me) and were returning back to Rhode Island from Chicago.

Just thought it was a lovely memory. And, according to my kid, I hadn’t shared it before which is amazing in itself. Because I am kind of a broken record with my stories.

Made me remember how I felt when I would first see my father as I was coming down the escalator at the airport after months away.

How he always did the heavy lifting. Not going to let his daughter pick up the heavy bags. 🙂

Brought back the fact that everyone, who knew my Dad, had a smile when they greeted him with nothing but respect.

Made me remember that every time I left him in his later years, he said, with eyes filling, “We love to have you and we sure do hate to see you go.”

How it’s hard to arrive at the airport and no one in that crowd is eagerly and expectantly looking for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Smear

I hopped off a bus, caught an uber and met my husband in the hotel lobby of a New York City hotel. Gave him a big hug and a kiss because we hadn’t seen each other for a month.

Once he was given the keys to the room I couldn’t wait to use the bathroom. Didn’t want to use the toilet on the bus.

Rush to bathroom in the suite. Everything looked clean and tidy on my dervish like sweep through the area.

I’m just about unzipping and lifting up the toilet cover and I spy a smear of brown on the seat.

I’m like, “What?”

Beckon husband.

I call front desk. State that the bathroom is unclean. She’s terribly apologetic. And will take care of asap. My last words into phone, “I think it’s feces.”

We leave the room. Husband heads to fellow at front desk with photo on phone.

He tells me that the guy said, “Oh, that’s shi*&ty. I’d be pis*ed.”

I laughed out loud. Did he actually, really say that?

Yep. Gotta love someone with a sense of humor.

The guy, once he was done funning, totally took care of us.

I’ve been in a lot of hotel rooms in my life. And experienced a lot along the way.

This was a first.

Hopefully a last.

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »