Copenhagen, episode 1. In which we get Danish.

Copenhagen has never been on my travel radar nor had it ever cropped up on one of my infinite travel lists. That confession confessed, I must apologize for that omission to the beautiful and colorfully magnificent and magnificently majestic ancient city and its people who welcomed us warmly last June when Mari and I enjoyed some pre and post cruise time in Denmark's capital city.

Yes, Mari and I are cruisers.

We came to the floating hotel concept a bit late (a 20th anniversary trip in 2010 was our first experience), but we have quickly embraced not only the concept of cruising, but the convenience (and the pampering), too.

Fortunately for both of us, we seem to come from seafarer stock and enjoy the (mostly) subtle floating-on-water experience. Regardless of how much I can say in favor of cruising, if you suffer seasickness, of course, my persuasive skills shall still have you over a barrel.

More on cruising later in this series because I would like to share with you some fleamarket experiences (and secondhand goodies, of course) from several cities beyond Copenhagen visited on our Baltic cruise. I also would like to share with you some tips on getting the most of your cruise as well as explore some of the benefits.

Mari and I snapped our colorful selfie above on our first full day in Copenhagen, which just happened to be fleamarket Sunday. That "just happened to be" is for poetic license only because you know that was no accident.  Of course, we planned a fleamarket Sunday!

Here's a quick look at one of the first locations we visited at the Ravnsborggade street market. As you can see it is definitely on the street and also very colorful and eclectic. And certainly very rustic!

Mari and I had a little trouble first finding the location, but once we did, we just followed the crowd, the music, and the lively atmosphere. The bargains came easily after that.

I'll return with you to Ravnsborggade next time and share some of our Danish rescues in future posts.

Let's get back to the beautiful city of Copenhagen, a new favorite for us, and meet one of its most famous residents.

Located on a peaceful promenade leading to the sound which eventually leads into the Baltic Sea, the famed bronze sculpture by Edvard Eriksen reclines on a rock and looks peacefully yet longingly to the North as if awaiting a lover's return.

Awaiting The Little Mermaid the evening we visited during our sunset walk along the bay's Langelinie promenade was not a single true love but multitudes.

Several tour buses of extraordinarily excited tourists looking for good luck as much as The Little Mermaid may have been looking forlornly for true love were mid-tour and frantically reaching out for souvenir photos.

Mari and I were a little surprised to find so many visitors during our evening stroll, but as much as we had hoped for a romantic stroll, our out-of-town compatriots were hoping for a perfect Copenhagen photo op. They found one and so did we.

Click on my YouTube video above to watch some of my video footage from that evening. It's only two minutes long but will give you a good idea of the frenzied atmosphere surrounding the seemingly serene tourist icon.

I believe the intention of setting the bronze sculpture on a rock off shore was to keep people from climbing on one of Denmark's national treasures, but, of course, good intentions never stopped no tourist from gettin' no photo!

I'm not sure what the motivation was behind touching the actual statue, but I'm wishing all the tourists we met that evening the best of luck, safe travels, and many thanks for a memorable experience!

Just a few minutes' walk away, Mari and I came across another couple of peaceful observers out for an evening stroll (float).

More from Copenhagen (and beyond) next time.

Rose Bowl, episode 7. In which the sun sets in LaLaLand.

I am not typically the person who posts photos of sunsets every day and I'm unfortunately not the person who makes it a point to step outside and admire a sunset or sunrise on a typical day, either.

I'm no Walt Whitman.
I am not a poet, nor prophet.

I am simply a (past) middle-aged man who has been undeservedly but most appreciatively blessed. I have also been blessed with a seemingly perpetual travel bug and a perpetually supportive wife who has been my constant companion all these miles, all these literary-referenced musings, and all these browsed marketplaces of which I write.

Mari and I spent a peacefully relaxing and restorative morning at Will Rogers State Beach during my 50th birthday weekend in September of 2016.

If you recall, that was before a rather hectic (obsessively-itineraried) day which involved snapping the perfect view of the Hollywood sign and having a James Dean moment at the Griffith Observatory, enjoying a live taping of 2 Broke Girls at Warner Brothers Studios, and then, finally, surrendering our hunger pangs to Pink's hot dogs on LaBrea for lunch/dinner at 10 PM.

That was my birthday.

Mari's long California 50th birthday Rose Bowl weekend was now nearly complete save for one final request.

Following a heavenly gourmet birthday lunch at Spago in Beverly Hills (more on that below), and a touristy drive through the bustlingly fashionable Rodeo Drive, Mari and I returned to relax at the Channel Road Inn before heading out (just a five-minute walk, remember) to our little stretch of Will Rogers State Beach to enjoy the sunset.

My favorite not-quite-yet-vintage pineapple-dappled shirt made its second appearance of the trip (4 days = 2 shirts x 2 wearings) during the evening sunset show.


I know you've seen the sun set, maybe even seen it rise, but intentionally and purposefully watching it happen (like it was some DVRed informational or competition program hosted by Lara Spencer or RuPaul) is not an activity most of us regularly schedule.

I am ever thankful for that particular sunset, amateurishly documented here. What you can't see in the photos are the dramatically slow-motioned sweeps the sun swept on its plotted path (seemingly) into the ocean.

It happens slowly at first, then suddenly you turn to take yet another photo or laugh at a dog rescuing a frisbee from the crashing waves, and the moment's almost lost, but it still happens, with or without you.

Trying to make sure every moment happens with me rather than without is why I enjoy fleamarketing and traveling near and far with Mari.

This SoCal sunset inspired me to reflect on the many people we have met throughout our fleamarket travels, searching secondhand stock that has been recollected across time and across the miles onto that one discount table at the center of that ginormous stadium parking lot that meets your collector's gaze and leads you into colorful conversation with an often like-minded individual or charming couple whom you would never have otherwise met.

As I conclude this revisit to California I must confide a confession.

Although last year's birthday adventure was my first trip to California, it was not Mari's. Like our previous Paris adventures, Mari had once ventured to Los Angeles without me.

A national committee meeting had landed Mari in LA for a business weekend about 15 years prior to our TPIR-inspired visit. It was during that professional weekend that Mari first discovered Wolfgang Puck's flagship Spago restaurant and she wanted me to enjoy the experience as well.

Visit the temptalicious site to explore, plan, and make a reservation.

wolfgangpuck.com/dining/spago

Be sure to request a table in the center courtyard, especially if you are dining during the day. The natural light was almost as breathtaking as the food, but not as breathtaking as a sunset on the beach, of course.

My timeless and tireless thanks, once again, to my life's companion for helping me discover the best views, best bargains, and the best in myself.

Next time, we travel to a new favorite city, a colorfully vibrant European capital with centuries' old inspiring architecture, an eclectically wonderful weekend flea, and a legendary little mermaid.

Rose Bowl, episode 6. In which we walk the Walk.

Here I am posing with a couple of golden boys lining the red carpet outside the TCL Chinese Theatre (originally known as Grauman's Chinese).

If you've been to Hollywood, you have probably struck a similarly goofy pose and, since this was our first visit to the legendarily historic site (opened over 90 years ago), I was no different. I'm all about all things touristy, especially the first time around, but I'm also about finding local favorites as well as discovering my own future favorites.

Much of our last full day in LA for Mari's 50th birthday long weekend was spent lollygagging about the original Walk of Fame surrounding the famed theater.

Echoes of Old Hollywood grace and glam still resound despite the touristy fandom. Even a Tuesday morning wasn't safe from the boisterous bedlam of which Mari and I were an unwitting part.

Although there were no actual celebrities present, Mari and I found ourselves sufficiently star struck as we walked the Walk of Fame.

I was delighted to pose my tired walking shoes alongside Jane Fonda's stilettoed impressions, dated about a year before the photograph of us was snapped at the ALA annual convention in Las Vegas (about 6 months before the premiere of Grace and Frankie).

I had attended Fonda's talk (at 8:00 AM on a Saturday!) promoting teen girls' health and had just queued up approximately an hour to have her sign my book and tell her in person how much I have appreciated her acting and admired her activism.

When I leaned in for our photo, I also desperately wanted to tell Miss Fonda how amazing her hair smelled (and how she was absolutely still Barbarella-lustrous), but I refrained from schoolboy behavior and remained professional (appreciative, but professional).

Mari and I wandered the hustling historic courtyard of the Chinese Theatre amazed at the considerable coalescence of stars (and ever thankful for the alignment of stars that allows us to have these awesome travel moments).

We were unfortunately unable to tour the theater or attend a screening as it was closed in preparation for a premiere that afternoon. Be sure to check the site for movie (and tour) times and for notices of closures which happen throughout the week, not just on weekends.

tclchinesetheatres.com

You can also check the incredibly well-curated Walk of Fame site for notices of upcoming ceremonies, video clips from recent ceremonies and celebrity sightings, as well as a helpful search engine which will give you the precise location of your favorite beloved (stalked) celebrity star. Mark Hamill's recent (March 8, 2018) star ceremony, attended by Harrison Ford and George Lucas, is currently featured on the site's home page.

walkoffame.com

There is much to see surrounding the Chinese Theatre, including the Dolby Theatre (home of the Academy Awards), Ripley's Believe It or Not!, Madame Tussauds, and the family-friendly Hollywood & Highland Center complex that includes shopping and dining favorites. From the rear/north end of the outdoor mall, just past the Hard Rock, you have a nice view of the Hollywood sign in the distance, too, although you will need a good zoom for a souvenir photo.

I managed to snap this snappy souvenir photo of Mari among a colorful canvas of Hollywood and LA souvenirs inside Souvenirs of Hollywood at the southwest corner of Hollywood Boulevard and North Highland (across the street from Ripley's on the southeast corner). Mari and I couldn't resist the souvenir temptations and I also couldn't resist a great photo op.

When taking photos inside a place of business, be sure to always ask an employee for permission. Sometimes, there are signs posted banning photography inside stores for legitimate copyright reasons and sometimes it's just an annoyance or disruption business owners would rather not encourage. We asked, of course, and were welcomed by the manager to snap away.

Mari and I call it a wrap next time with just one more slice of birthday cake and an all-natural, calorie-free California treat that can't be beat.

  

Rose Bowl, episode 5. In which we find our mojo.

You know how it is with memory and food, right? That first bite of the right dish will flood memories right through your brain and (in my case) sentimental heart. I especially savor that moment in Pixar's 2007 feature, Ratatouille, when Peter O'Toole's aloof restaurant critic takes his first bite of Remy's elegantly deconstructed rustic dish. His flood of memories immediately returns the rough-edged critic back to his provincial childhood and the comforting warmth of his mother's lovingly-prepared casserole of farm-fresh vegetables and herbs.

Although my own meatloafing of America throughout these here ramblings can recollect many happy memories of traveling with Mari, there was no meatloaf in my childhood. There are other dishes that evoke strong memories of my mãe e pai, especially Portuguese and Brazilian recipes from my childhood. Although I've managed to nearly recreate a few family favorites, including stuffed peppers (a hint of cloves in the ground beef mixture was my mom's secret signature) and pudim flan (slowly stewed sugary prunes embellish the otherwise silky smooth surface), the recreations are never quite perfect as you know if you've ever tried to copy a family recipe.

I've also never been able to come close to my favorite family dish, my mom's obsessively layered lasagna. I have no clue where my mom came up with her recipe, but her carefully constructed casserole has absolutely no origins in Portuguese or Brazilian cuisine. The weight of that finished glass lasagna pan and the corresponding heft of the memory of family celebrations will forever cloud my gastronomic judgment, I suppose, and (much like a cake left out in the rain in MacArthur's Park) I will never ever have that recipe again.

Many thanks to Donna Summer for bringing me out of that foodie reverie!

Sometimes, however, you do happen across a heavenly taste of the cherished past and such was our good fortune the weekend of Mari's Rose Bowl fleamarket 50th birthday weekend. During last year's LA visit for my 50th, I was surprised and happy to discover a West Coast location of a Midwest favorite, Portillo's, where Mari and I enjoyed a post Long Beach flea Chicago dog and Italian beef sandwich.

Another Midwest favorite blipped its way onto my culinary radar while planning this year's post flea refueling. I could not believe that after all these years (our last visit was in 1989 in South Bend) Mari and I were about to enjoy pizza and perfectly seasoned slices of Mojo potatoes at Shakey's!

Thinly sliced and delicately battered, Mojos are the perfect side dish to accompany a memory-inducing and oh-so-savory starch-fest. Our trip down memory lane was incomplete, of course, without our college friends with whom we had shared many a heavenly Mojo, many a comforting meal, and many a lasting memory.

Visit the site to plan your own starchy walk down memory lane. Although no longer in the Midwest, there are Shakey's locations in a variety of unexpected regions of North America (and Asia).

shakeys.com

Originally, our plan was to enjoy a memory (and Mojo potato) filled lunch at the Glendale Shakey's, the closest to the Rose Bowl, immediately following our 3-hour shopping safari, but along our route that morning we couldn't help but notice a few colorful and strategically-placed signs advertising an estate sale. Hmmm.

That hot pink sign a mile south of the Rose Bowl stuck in our memory throughout the morning and we couldn't help but be tempted by it again on the way to our well-deserved and much-needed Mojo-memory-filled nourishment.

And, of course, you know how these things go...

there was a garage sale on the way to the estate sale.

This delicate beauty made its way into my weekend stash of treasures. For all of two dollars, I was absolutely elated to still find this bone china beauty so late in the garage sale day. 

Remind me to share with you some blog day the location where I am now cleverly displaying my fleamarketed teacups that could no longer control themselves in their own display cabinet. It combines two things I cannot live without.

Now, I have a confession about estate sales.

I have kind of a love-hate relationship with them.

I love them because I enjoy hunting for treasures as you all know. I hate estate sales because more often than not, they are happening because someone has moved on (and I'm not talking about a simple move across town, but a more metaphorical move).

As you know I can sometimes get a little (way too much for my own good) sentimental even about such seemingly meaningless miscellany as indelibly-inscribed slide rules, 99-cent owl-emblazoned souvenir plates, and four-dollar Avon pressed glass rose bowls. Imagine what it's like, then, for me as I walk through someone's former home and forage through items that have been selected for one final purge.

Let me share with you, though, one final bargain purchase that helped round out a small collection started a few years ago. I don't know what Lenox was doing getting involved with spices, but back in the late 1980s the Lenox Spice Village made its debut to the delight of collectors somewhere.

Miniature (each about 3 inches tall) Victorian-style cottages, each unique and delicately embellished with painted artistic interpretations of two dozen herbs and spices, were available to culinaria collectors who likely never used them for their implied function.

None of the dusty but still brightly embellished spice cottages still remaining in the emptied Pasadena townhouse that afternoon, the final (deeply-discounted) day of the estate sale, bore witness to any trace fragrant herb or spice.

Each porcelain cottage, I'm absolutely confident, had displayed proudly in that formerly pristine and orderly kitchen. The three carefully-chosen beauties photographed here found their (discounted to $2.50 each) rightful route to join two previously fleamarketed rescues (Bay and Saffron) on my kitchen counter. I make no attempt to disguise their far from utilitarian function although I did select herbs and spices that are among my favorites. My functioning spices (all 48 of them) have their own spice drawer where they are alphabetically tucked away in identical Penzey's spice jars with all their labels dutifully facing upwards as they await appropriately seasoned selection.

The five members of my Spice Village help maintain the eclectically collectible vibe on the countertop where I enjoy experimenting and recreating family food memories.

Chive, Tarragon, and Nutmeg have found a new home in my controlled clutter and will have their own spicy story to share some day.

This was my last photo at the flea. My drooping pineapples and I are posing with reminders to all visitors of other upcoming local events.

So many fleamarkets...

so little time!

A return trip (or two) is on our list.

More sites (and maybe a few stars) from SoCal next time.