I missed the San Jose Grand Prix, again. Not that it’s really a problem. Unlike last year, where I just sat on the couch the entire weekend, missing both the Grand Prix and the Garlic Festival, this year I opted for a cooler end of July weekend. I headed for the aquarium in Monterey.

This is the second time I’ve been to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and while I wasn’t rushing as much as the first time, I didn’t get to see all of it. But, I did hit the highlights.

The boyfriend and I decided we wanted to see the Sharks & Myths exhibit before it ended in September. Since I will be out of state for most of August, we thought we’d better go while we had the itch to. Plus, when we weighed the options (hot downtown San Jose, pavement, and more heat from the cars, vs. the cool ocean breezes of Monterey and fish) we decided it wasn’t much of a competition. The exhibit did not disappoint, though we did sort of rush through it because it took us a while to find it. And, I kept getting distracted, wanting to show the boyfriend, who had never been here, all of the cool exhibits.

My first stop in the aquarium, as last time, was the sea otter tank. It’s central in the aquarium, and it’s my favorite spot. Otters of any kind have long been a favorite of mine, since my first visit to Bays Mountain’s otter exhibit in Kingsport, Tennessee. I could spend hours sitting and watching the otters float, swim, groom, and play. One of the things that made me fall in love with the Bay Area is that you are likely to see these playful creatures in the harbor or at the beach (or, if you don’t see otters, there’s a great likelihood of spying on sea lions or seals). One of the things that made me fall even more in love with the boyfriend was the night I saw an otter in the harbor, and he just enjoyed sitting there with me watching the otter for however long I wanted to be there. There was no rushing, we just sat there and watched the little guy play and twirl around in the dark, inky water.

Next, I drug him into the Jellies: Living Art and the Outer Bay exhibit. We spent lots of time there watching the huge bluefin tuna, the sunfish, a few sharks, and other miscellaneous fish swim around.

We did see lots of sharks during our tour. There were hammerheads and Galapogos sharks in the Outer Bay exhibit, we finally found the Sharks & Myths exhibit that had not only sharks but lots of rays, and we found our way to the shark tank after a brief stop watching the Kelp Forest (which had some sharks as well, and an ugly, ugly eel) which featured some beautiful leopard sharks as well as 7-Gill sharks and some more hammerheads and rays.

Unfortunately, I forgot my camera again this trip. So, for now I’ll just have to post an image of the sharks at the Audubon Aquarium in New Orleans (images from 2003). Next time, oh there will be a next time, I will not be without a camera. Although by then, the blacktip and whitetip reef sharks, zebra shark, pajama catshark, and all the other species that were featured in the Sharks & Myths exhibit will be gone. But maybe they’ll have another Great White by then! And, maybe I can get there earlier so I can devote an hour or two to chilling and watching the otters play…

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Miscellany by Courtney

I’ve long wanted to do a photo series on the south, but never could figure out exactly what I would do. Whatever it was, I wanted to portray the south in a good light — portray my culture as I see it, not as much of the rest of America has seen it up until the last couple of years: Backwards, slow. Hillbilly/red-neck country. Barefoot and pregnant at the age of 16.

In my excitement to go home, I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I’ve come up with one of the reasons I love the South is it’s timeless. No, not stuck in time, but it just has a timeless quality. It’s a place of family, friends, neighbors and gatherings. A place where you can take the time to enjoy the small things, the things you often don’t notice on a day to day basis. It’s a place of just stopping by to say hi and meeting new people who you find out you may already know through so-and-so or from such-and-such. It’s a place that still has carbs, fat, and calories (and it’s not a sin to consume these). A place where a person cooks meals that were passed down from great-grandmother to grandmother to mother. A place where you can feel the dampness of the air on your skin and you can hear the bugs chirping in the morning and evening. It’s a place where I can run barefoot through the grass, or through the dirt. A place that’s laid back and casual — it’s okay to walk into the convenience store wearing a t-shirt over your bathing suit, hair in a tangled, pulled up mess, slathered with sunscreen. A place where you leave your front door unlocked and when someone knocks you just yell, “Come on in!” Of course, they’re already half way in, because the knock is just meant to announce that your here — you know you’re welcome.

So, I’ve decided that’s it. I want to capture the timeless qualities. Maybe in early September you’ll see that, maybe you won’t. Art is, after all, shaped by a person’s experiences. If I’m successful, the photos will show the South that I know, even to that person who’s only contact with the South has been Jeff Foxworthy and Civil War history.

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Miscellany by Courtney

If anyone is wondering why the frog is in some of the pictures — He’s the Spotless Cleaners Frog from Johnson City, Tennessee. He apparently hopped in my bag as I was leaving Tennessee and hitched a ride to Tahiti. Only then did he hop out and make his presence known!

So, since he was there we figured he might as well have a good time. Spotless frog not only enjoyed the views, but he went snorkeling with us and even relaxed and had a Hinano or two. He enjoyed the islands, but now I bet he’s regretting coming back to California with me. There’s a heat wave — 104 all weekend — and no where near the humidity he enjoys in Tennessee. I bet he’ll be hitching a ride back when I head to Tennessee in August!

Check out the frog, in all his singing glory, in the video below (Isn’t it amazing how different he looks when he has his professional makeup on??):

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French Polynesia by Courtney

Ahhh… the real airport! How silly of me to think the place we landed and were picked up was the airport! So where is this real airport located?

Well, instead of taking a left at the road, you take a right. And we had actually rode by it on the bikes (the “real” airport is also within walking distance). It was the place where I had seen the roosters — yes, that’s roosters, at the airport.

The airport was an open air structure, with a few benches (very similar, thus far, to where we landed). It had two check-in counters and one baggage-weighing-doo-hickie. It also had what I am assuming was a snack bar (it wasn’t open, and this was one of the two flights out for the day) which is what you see pictured above.

As we wait at the airport I see more puppies. One a guy is carrying in a tote bag. This pup goes along on the plane with us, sacked out underneath the seat in front of his owner (no crate, and he’s out of the bag at this point). The other is really a pup, probably about 9 or 10 weeks old. He was fiesty but friendly.

When we land in Tahiti we’re greeted by Marama tour guide guy and he shows us the sites of the airport. We attempt to walk towards town a little ways, as the pearl boutique woman had told us about a good Chinese restaurant, but alas, it wasn’t open. So we head back to the airport and enjoy their cafeteria-style food.

We get a half-bottle of wine, a bottle of water, each of us have chicken and rice, and we split a chocolate mousse. Now, this was by far the best airport food I’ve ever had — a very tasty meal (good restaurant quality). But, for $70, it should be! Yes, $70 for dinner, in the airport. Man, this is worse than Disney (but, the quality of the food is much better than Disney, so I guess it all evens out).

We continue to roam around for a while, wandering in and out of the shops. We spot a kitty and stop to pet it. Finally, we decide it is time to grab our bags and head through the security checkpoint.

This is where it gets fun. Remeber how it was a breeze getting into the country? Well, leaving was a different story. I walk up to customs and hand them my passport, the form I received on entry, and my boarding pass. The man starts looking at my passport, which wasn’t stamped.

“Did you come in to Tahiti via air?”
“Yes, I came in here, this airport.”
“Not by boat?”
“No, by airplane. I came in here, at this airport. Right back there.” I point. “They gave me that form and waved me through.”
“Are you with someone?”

At this point I wave Raju over, and he proceeds to ask him the same questions he asked me. Then he assk me the questions again. Then there’s some discussion with another guy, who walks off to a back room to have more discussion. When he comes back, they discuss a little more. Then:

“So where is your form?” he asks me, referring to Raju’s form he has in hand.
“I gave it to you, it’s right there.” I point to where he has now laid down my passport, boarding pass, and form.
“You didn’t give it to me. Where’s your form?”
“Yes, I did. It’s right there. Underneath my passport, underneath my boarding pass!” At this point I’m starting to get slightly irate, and I’m really trying to refrain from reaching my arm through the window and picking up the form (my arm has a mind of it’s own and it already half-way in). I know this probably won’t end good if I keep up.

Luckily, he sees the form, and my boarding pass at this point. He shakes his head, stamps both of our passports, and lets us go through. After some quick security checks of our baggage, we are in and able to continue wandering through shops until time for our plane to board.

Unfortunately the food wasn’t as good on the flight back, and I was a lot more fidgety this time. But, 21 hours later, I was stepping out of a cab and walking through my front door, being greeted by the Milo. And that, my friends, was my Polynesian adventure.

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French Polynesia by Courtney

Our last day on the island we visited a pearl farm. We boarded the boat and zoomed across the lagoon, getting a good look at the huts/houses built out in the middle. Some were decrepit, some were veritable mansions.

As we pulled up at the farm, the first thing I noticed was a dog! Black doggie was hunting out something in the water. It ended up just being a piece of string, but at this point I didn’t care about the pearls, I just wanted to pet the dog.

And I got my chance. There were actually two dogs, Maya and Sebastian. Maya was the black dog I had seen down at the water. Both dogs were extremely friendly and wanted to be petted. As I listened to two presentations about Tahitian pearls, one in French and one in English (still not understanding a lick of French) Maya came over to be scratched and petted. It made me not so sad to be leaving the island, because she had those same big eyes that Milo has, and I couldn’t wait to get home to him.

After the presentation was finished, and we knew everything there was to know about the pearls (it was like a classroom presentation, but being the geek I am, it was cool), we went into the working area and saw the process first-hand from a grafter. She showed us how it was like being part dentist/part gynecologist as she peeked inside an oyster to see if it had the correct coloring (this would be the dentist part), then pried open another shell to implant the nucleus with the meat that gives the pearl its color (and this would be the latter part).

Apparently I looked like the best mark for being grossed out by eating an oyster, because the woman leading the tour kept teasing me about eating one. I love oysters, so I was definitely game for trying one that was this fresh. I think the entire group (with exception of Raju) was suprised that I ate it. It was good, but it looked nor tasted like any kind of oyster I’ve ever had. It was served to me on a mother of pearl shell with a little lemon juice. The meat was tougher and more chewy, instead of the slimy oysters we eat here. Think sea scallop. But it was tasty, and I wouldn’t have turned down a dozen of them with a bottle of wine for sure.

After the oohs, aahs, and giggles that the blonde, American girl had eaten the oyster, it was back to the boat for us, zooming across the lagoon, and back to the hotel room to pack. We did stop by the shop to buy a few pearls, then we had our last meal at the resort.

Which brings me to the coconut pie. For days I had tried to order the coconut pie for dessert. The first day I ordered it they had just ran out. Each subsequent day, they didn’t have it. But today, oh yes, today they had the coconut pie. So I eagerly ordered it — not because I love coconut pie, but I had been craving what I couldn’t have.

But, my hopes were dashed. Before I could have my coconut pie, reception called and said we needed to leave immediately in order to make it to the airport. What??!! It’s within walking distance and there’s nothing there! Why would I need to leave an hour before my flight? Why can’t I have my pie?

“Oh, you’re not going to the airport you came in at. You’re going to the real airport today.”…

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French Polynesia by Courtney