Belated Happy Birthday ..... to me.

I'm not usually one to aggrandize my birthday, especially as the years start rolling by.....but, I just have to pass this on to you, even if it is a couple of days late!

Some of my dearest friends (who happen to be Argentine blues musicians) recorded a birthday song for me, and I'd like to share it with you here.

Meeting Rod Carew

It's not often that you get to chat with a Hall of Famer. It's even more uncommon to do so at an ambassador's house in Nicaragua. A fitting 'birthday present', my encounter with 7-time batting champion Rod Carew was quite memorable.

A friend of mine made it happen...knowing what a baseball junkie I am, she made sure that I was able to meet with the 1977 MVP, as he was here in Nicaragua as a representative for MLB, conducting baseball clinics and whatnot in this already baseball-mad country.

As it turned out, I showed up at the ambassador's house and mingled with some co-workers, sipping on some rum, and before long, the baseball delegation began showing up. There were execs, a handful of Dominican scouts, and, of course, Rod Carew. Biding my time, I eventually got to chat with the famous Twin and Angel icon from the 70s. I think I may have freaked him out when I introduced him to a friend of mine as 'the only man other than Ty Cobb to win 3 consecutive batting crowns'. He responded with eyebrows raised, 'Some people know my career better than I do....'. So, at that point, I decided not to mention that I knew he had stolen home 17 times in his career, and that he and Willie Mays share the distinction of winning Rookie of the Year, the MVP, and a batting title.

What we did talk about was the state of baseball. You see, Carew is a purist. He explained how great the Canseco steroid thing would eventually be for the sport, ferreting out the cheaters and the one-dimensional ballplayers, hellbent on hitting 'jonrones'(home runs). I mentioned that my dad had always taught me to 'hit the ball where it was pitched', and he replied that was what he tried to teach young ballplayers. Notably, he mentioned a particular admiration for Japanese players, such as Ichiro, and he commented that pitchers, such as Nicaraguan-born Dennis Martinez, would do 'whatever it took' to get hitters out (read: cheat).

Interestingly, I found out that Carew was a former Marine, and he and Tug McGraw were very close to being sent to Vietnam. Seeing that everyone at the party was there to chitchat with Carew, I limited my time with him to a subtle 15 minutes or so, returning to the rum and coke circuit with some of my embassy friends. In all, it was a great night.....a perfect beginning for my birthday....

Midnight Hike of Momotombo Volcano

Well, it's about the craziest thing I've done....at least in awhile. Last week, a buddy of mine invited me to hike the Momotombo volcano with him, starting around midnight, and finishing around sunrise, providing great photo opportunities and a unique experience here in Nicaragua, especially since our time here is dwindling.

So, naturally, I accepted.

Seeing that you need special permission from the government, and there are no formal trails at the top, we needed a guide. Indeed, my friend's (Ron) neighbor is a French 'volcanologist', arguably the most experienced volcano climber in all of the region. So, upon arriving at the Frenchman's house in Managua (might I add, this man has a striking resemblance to fallen Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceasescu )

Joining us was 'Ceausescu's' nica wife, 2 Nicaraguan adventurers, and us 'chele' Americans. After a spirited drive to the other side of Lake Managua, we arrived at the foot of the volcano around 11:30 pm.....and off we went!

Keep in mind, I had already given everyone in our group the 'once over', meaning I had deduced that I would be able to physically match any of them on this journey, including the wiley 'Ceausescu'. So, we began our midnight journey up a set of switchback-esque trails, through typical Nicaraguan shrubbery and underbrush, until we reached a point where the trees were sparse, and the soil resembled black, sandy, shale.....crushed volcanic rock. Now, I'm no geologist, but I can tell you that is quite challenging, walking up a big black shale hill, taking two steps foreward, one step back..... So it went for....well, the next 2-3 hours.

Around 2am though, we had to take a break. At this point, I kind of realized what I'd gotten myself into. My friend Ron and the Frenchman were leading me on one of the those crazy journeys that you read about in a magazine. The two Nicaraguan adventurers had fallen behind by this time, leaving us battling 40 mph winds in our faces. So, we decided to wait for the lagging Nicas, and sought out shelter under a pathetic shrub. It was decided by Ceausescu that we should 'wait out the wind', and continue in an hour. So there we rested, laying around like some iguanas on uncomfortable volcanic rock.....Oh, did I mention that I completely forgot to pack any warm clothes or sufficient food. (I had a Milky Way bar and bottle of water).



3am. We continue on with our journey. By this time, the true nature of the challenge revealed itself. Due in part to a full moon, I could see the face of the volcano in it's entirety, and doubts began to creep in as to whether I could complete this journey. What was supposed to culminate in a 5-5:30 destination at the top had now become an 'I don't know if we should attempt this because I've never seen the wind like this' from trusty 'Ceausescu'. Adding to the bluster was the fact that clouds had completely enveloped us, limiting visibility severely.

6am. We're definitely not going to summit this thing anytime soon. Not only were the 2 Nica stragglers impeding our efforts, the wind was unbearable, literally picking us up off the ground if you weren't careful. It was also at this point that 'Ceausescu' explained just how steep the summit was, necessitating a frantic 'crawl' to the top...Um, have I mentioned that I'm afraid of heights?!.....



Shine a light on me.....ahh, sun breaks, still no sleep, no food, but I can see all around me. This is a good thing....kind of. Did I tell you that I don't care for heights? So, between 5-7am, I was part of the 'A-team', essentially Ceausescu, his Nica wife, and Ron....who I might add, is the craziest, most ambitious hiker I've ever encountered. He simply chews up mountains and spits them out! So, we get to the point of no return, essentially the 'end game', as we're faced with the last 100 yds. or so to the summit. You know, the part with the 'frantic crawl' to the top. I had previously decided to go for it, overcoming my fears, until Ceausescu's wife opted out. This woman admitted to around 300 successful climbs of the summit, and I was guessing that her good judgment aided her in this number. If she wasn't going, nor was I. You see, the wind and clouds were simply too much....



So, around 7:30am, we made our way down the mountain, taking a brisk 1 hour walk/tumble down the shifting volcanic rock pebbles. It was like downhill skiing on glass shards, making wipeouts less desirable. In the end, I made it down about halfway, where I waited for crazy Ron....and lo and behold, you could see him literally skiing down the steepest face of the mountain, like a crazed downhill skier with no skis. He made it down the face in 10 minutes, whereas it took me a good hour of rock balancing.



By the time we rendezvoused, I had no food, water, or desire to be on the mountain. Furthermore, we had both told our wives that we'd 'be home for breakfast'. Ha! So, by 11am, we made it to the car, completely wiped out, tired, thirsty, and hungry. We hit the road, listened to some Led Zepplin III, and weaved through the normal menage of Nicaraguan Sunday drunks. Aided by Jimmy Page and Fanta soda, we cruised back to 'civilization'....that is, until Ron's Jeep broke down and I enlisted the help of a drunk Nica to fetch us beers while we waited for the tow truck....but friends......that's a different story!!

Bourgeois Town

Well, I just got back from Washington D.C., the nation's capital.... Some of you already know the reason of my visit: to interview to become a Special Agent. Well, folks, it wasn't meant to be.... My background of brewmaster and east European studies didn't parlay well into a career of security and bringing down bad guys. I guess I could've got 'em drunk and bored them to death in the damp, basement room, with tales of Balkan despots....but I digress....

Actually, it was a great trip, a wonderful experience, if only to keep my interviewing skills from becoming too rusty in the hazy rain forests of Nicaragua. It's been awhile since I posted anything on this site, other than the occasional youtube clip and some videos of my offspring. So, here are some of my observations from my recent D.C. trip.

First of all, I must say that I had forgotten just how 'fast-paced' the U.S. is, especially on the East Coast. When I arrived, I was whisked around with great efficiency, from airport to subway station, to taxi stand, etc... One of the first things I did, post-interview, was to check out the Smithsonian. To me, this is a cleansing, reflective exercise. Our nation has a proud and illustrious history. This fact will not be lost upon you if you live in a place like Nicaragua. Don't get me wrong, Nicaragua has a colorful history....

Sadly, though, I found that the American History Museum was closed for renovations, so I quickly changed course, and went to the National Museum of Art. What a great idea! I've always been an avid fan of art. At one point, in my pubescent days, I fashioned myself to be somewhat of an artist. Although my output was modest, by absolutely all accounts, I enjoyed the genre. Naturally, my interest carried over into an appreciation of the artists themselves, their work, and how it fit into the chronology of the craft. So, I spent the better half of my 'free', non-interviewing morning, perusing the labyrinthian maze of our nation's art collection. In particular, I was drawn to the Spanish and Italian masters of the Dark Ages, the iconography of the earliest frescoes and religious themes, as well as the Impressionists of late 19th century fame. Seeing a Van Gogh up close, studying the brush strokes and really taking the time to interpret the paintings, I was really fortunate to be there on a lazy Thursday morning, sans the crowds and hubbub.

Well, gazing at masterpieces can make a man quite hungry, I looked for a bite to eat. But, seeing that it was such a beautiful day, I decided that I would take a nice little 45 minute run around the National Mall. Taking in the din of befuddled schoolchildren from Iowa, sunbathing interns, silver-haired politicos and the like, I ran around, taking it all in... I got to see, firsthand, a loud protest at the Capitol by organized dump truck drivers, honking and making a commotion, while driving around the for everyone to see. I went up and asked one of the drivers what they were protesting, to which he responded, 'high fuel prices man!'. Seems to be a theme these days....

At any rate, after my run, my next plan of action was to check out the Museum of the American Indian. Luckily, I resisted the urge to eat junk from an outside vendor, and decided instead to take my chances on museum fare. I was rewarded with some of the finest museum cuisine imaginable. The restaurant was divided into 5 regions, offering distinct choices that included buffalo chili, tamales, baked salmon, and seafood bisque. I ended up going with the baked salmon, with an asparagus salad, and turnip greens. This was simply the best meal that I'd had in the States in quite a long time. The museum itself was somewhat confusing, as the thematic approach only covered a limited amount of vast, Native American experiences. Overall, the mood is heavy, as the national guilt of Native American eradication is prominently portrayed. ...This fact actually makes me more proud of my country, as we have the confidence and intellectual honesty to explore this topic.

Finally, after a full day of American Indians and Art, I wandered over to the new baseball stadium over by the Navy yard, on the east side of the city. Wow! What a stadium! Now, if the Nationals can only match the impressiveness of the stadium... I showed up around 5pm, a little over 2 hours before the first pitch. For $5, I got a cheap bleacher seat, and moseyed down to try and catch a batting practice home run. Instead, I watched as some annoying 'ball hawk' was snagging everything coming our way. Otherwise, my experience was absolutely positive. The Marlins beat the Nats in a closely fought, late-inning back-and-forth affair. Afterwards, I quickly made it back to Arlington, via the ever-dependable Metro.

All in all, it was a memorable day....and a worthwhile trip to my homeland.

Brodie and Ewan

Here's the latest of Brodie and his baseball travails....He really loves this sport. I think he got the 'baseball gene' from his Grandpops (something that his Poppy didn't seem to get!)

Brodie Baseball Part 2

Also, we shouldn't forget little Ewan!

Ewan Wants Milk