Like Julie on "The Love Boat" but not so wholesome.
I was in my 20s when I was first dubbed "cruise director" by family and friends, who even presented me with a t-shirt spelling out that moniker in sparkly letters. And, no, I was no more the sparkly letter type then than I am now.
It wasn't because of anything to do with travel over water, mind you, but because I enjoy researching travel plans. I'm that person who will happily devour a couple of travel guides in pursuit of knowledge.
When I went to Memphis and Oxford with a friend earlier this year, she left cruise directing in my hands and later marveled at how much I'd uncovered for us to do.
So it was a no-brainer to use my train ride to Richmond today to gather intel for my upcoming trip. So far, I've found far more I want to see and do than there could possibly be time for, a first world problem if ever there was one. The way I look at it, better to have too long a list than too short.
Amazing what a person can accomplish on Amtrack's Quiet Car (yes, the same Quiet Car Chris Christie was thrown off of for talking on his cell phone). Where to start? Where to stop?
A literary walking tour that includes poetic focaccia (and I have to know)
An oyster company with half price oysters twice a week for happy hour (because I can eat some bivalves)
A garden featuring 150 plants and flowers mentioned in Shakespeare's writings
A western saloon located in an alley and serving lamb pot pie and bone marrow fritters (howdy, pardner)
A Victorian camera obscura projecting outdoor seascapes on a parabolic screen
A restaurant design that won a James Beard award
A sea cave archway that offers end of the world views at low tide (not to self: check tide charts)
A bowling alley that does Soul and Bowl nights (so stoked for this)
A vintage tiki lounge with rattan booths serving Hurricanes with two straws
Communal baths where bathing suits are only required on co-ed Tuesdays (better not to take my suit?)
A dive bar with cheap drinks, pogo-worthy music in the back room and peanuts for eating and throwing
A live music bar in a Victorian hotel, a stalwart of the '70s underground scene and now host to indie label debuts
A park dedicated to a poet laureate with awe-inspiring vistas
A beach shack bistro near a nine-mile ocean beach (this could be an entire day lost)
An art bar with rotating installations and regular Prince/Michael Jackson nights (Purple Thriller, yes!)
And don't get me started on museums, architecture, rooftops gardens and viewing platforms.
Besides, all that just might show up in upcoming posts, complete with details, conversations and conclusions. Consider this the movie trailer version set to the rhythms of a rocking train.
Just don't call me Julie.
Showing posts with label walking tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walking tours. Show all posts
Friday, December 18, 2015
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Dead Don't Whine
Question of the day: Why do people go on a walking tour if they don't like to walk?
Would you enter a marathon if you didn't run?
Honestly, some people just need to get a clue.
With absolutely nothing on the books for this afternoon, I decided at 1:50 to take the 2:00 Hollywood Cemetery walking tour.
As the last arrival, I have to say I was amazed to find forty or more people waiting for the tour to start; later, the tour guide said the average group is ten to twenty.
I just figured there were a lot of geeks like me (walking enthusiasts with a taste for history) free today, but as it turned out, that wasn't exactly the case.
Maybe it was partially an age thing, since probably two thirds of the group was 50+, but some of the loudest complainers were under 30 ("My age may be young, but my body's old," one girl whined).
When the guide told us that we were going to "march up that hill" the incredulous looks on some of their faces were priceless.
Clearly walking means different things to different people.
The guide said that the tour would cover 2 1/2 miles and last two hours.
It actually took 2 1/2 hours because our oversize (both literally and figuratively) group took so long to get from place to place.
Still, I really enjoyed myself. As many times as I've been through Hollywood, including writing and directing a video shoot of it for my last employer, I learned all kinds of new information today, so that was nerdily satisfying.
Before the purchase of the land for the rural-style cemetery, it was a dueling and hunting ground, not that I think for a moment that there aren't still fights and perhaps even a bit of scavenging that goes on there (the PBR cans I saw lined up next to a decorated tomb stone from 1874 attested to something).
I didn't know that the gatekeeper's residence is a Queen Anne kit house, bought from a catalog (or that in the 19th century you could buy burial monuments from a catalog).
Or that stones were left like calling cards at tombstones to indicate a visit from a loved one.
For the most part, I stayed at the front of the straggling pack so as not to have to deal with the painfully slow walkers, but I still heard some of the complaints from the group.
"Does she really expect us to walk for another hour?" and "I'm too old for this much exercise."
One woman said she had been planning to go to Disney World with her grandkids next month, but now she was realizing what a handicap she was going to be to them. How sad is that?
And two women showed up for a walking tour in dressy clothes and heels. Heels!
The guide told me that she's suggested to the tour's sponsor, the Valentine Museum, that they rate their walking tours according to difficulty to prevent people from being subjected to a more challenging walk than they want.
I wouldn't have minded scaring off the whiners either, but then the tour would have been down to about four of us and that wouldn't make much money for the Valentine, now would it?
Since cemeteries were where 19th century urban dwellers went for recreation (before the advent of public parks), I got a retro kick out of doing a Sunday stroll through the headstones and monuments, much like Richmonders did 150 years ago.
I'm going to guess that, like me, they just enjoyed it, rather than complaining all the while.
Not sure, but I don't think whining about walking was done back then.
Oh, for the good old days.
Would you enter a marathon if you didn't run?
Honestly, some people just need to get a clue.
With absolutely nothing on the books for this afternoon, I decided at 1:50 to take the 2:00 Hollywood Cemetery walking tour.
As the last arrival, I have to say I was amazed to find forty or more people waiting for the tour to start; later, the tour guide said the average group is ten to twenty.
I just figured there were a lot of geeks like me (walking enthusiasts with a taste for history) free today, but as it turned out, that wasn't exactly the case.
Maybe it was partially an age thing, since probably two thirds of the group was 50+, but some of the loudest complainers were under 30 ("My age may be young, but my body's old," one girl whined).
When the guide told us that we were going to "march up that hill" the incredulous looks on some of their faces were priceless.
Clearly walking means different things to different people.
The guide said that the tour would cover 2 1/2 miles and last two hours.
It actually took 2 1/2 hours because our oversize (both literally and figuratively) group took so long to get from place to place.
Still, I really enjoyed myself. As many times as I've been through Hollywood, including writing and directing a video shoot of it for my last employer, I learned all kinds of new information today, so that was nerdily satisfying.
Before the purchase of the land for the rural-style cemetery, it was a dueling and hunting ground, not that I think for a moment that there aren't still fights and perhaps even a bit of scavenging that goes on there (the PBR cans I saw lined up next to a decorated tomb stone from 1874 attested to something).
I didn't know that the gatekeeper's residence is a Queen Anne kit house, bought from a catalog (or that in the 19th century you could buy burial monuments from a catalog).
Or that stones were left like calling cards at tombstones to indicate a visit from a loved one.
For the most part, I stayed at the front of the straggling pack so as not to have to deal with the painfully slow walkers, but I still heard some of the complaints from the group.
"Does she really expect us to walk for another hour?" and "I'm too old for this much exercise."
One woman said she had been planning to go to Disney World with her grandkids next month, but now she was realizing what a handicap she was going to be to them. How sad is that?
And two women showed up for a walking tour in dressy clothes and heels. Heels!
The guide told me that she's suggested to the tour's sponsor, the Valentine Museum, that they rate their walking tours according to difficulty to prevent people from being subjected to a more challenging walk than they want.
I wouldn't have minded scaring off the whiners either, but then the tour would have been down to about four of us and that wouldn't make much money for the Valentine, now would it?
Since cemeteries were where 19th century urban dwellers went for recreation (before the advent of public parks), I got a retro kick out of doing a Sunday stroll through the headstones and monuments, much like Richmonders did 150 years ago.
I'm going to guess that, like me, they just enjoyed it, rather than complaining all the while.
Not sure, but I don't think whining about walking was done back then.
Oh, for the good old days.
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