Scotchies Jerk Spot in Montego Bay ... The MoBay Hip Strip with an unhip guy

Computer is giving me problems and can't send any photos just now, so words will have to suffice until I get a wireless signal I can use....

Spent a great morning at Half Moon, A Rock Resort, outside Montego Bay. Look for more on their equestrian program in a future edition of Star Travel, for sure. After that it was a lunch stop that failed to disappoint: the famous Scotchie's.

It's a roadside attraction of its own near the Montego Bay Airport. You line up at an open-air counter and place your order for jerk chicken or pork or, on some days, ribs. There's also breadfruit and yams and something called festival - long, skinny pieces of flour and cornmeal together, I think.

You sit outside at giant, round tables under a thatched roof, so it's quite cool. It's great jerk, but I was surprised it wasn't spicier. I was dipping mine in the fiery yellow hot sauce for some extra kick and was shocked my tour guide/driver wasn't doing the same. But then he explained the main part of Scotchie's makes things a little more mild for tourisits and that the locals usually get their fix by pulling over on the way home and that they get the spicy stuff.

A fun spot and a good deal; only a few bucks for a whole chicken. There's no gift shop that I spotted, but give it time....

ON TO THE "HIP STRIP"

For two days I'd been telling folks I was going to stay the night on Montego Bay's hip strip. I hated saying it as it sounds so stupid. But part of the travel gig I have is doing things I wouldn't normally do. So yesterday it was time to check out the action on Montego Bay's big tourism strip, Gloucester Road.

It's a bit like Wasaga Beach meets Clifton Hill in Niagara Falls; tacky and garish but hard to take your eyes off of. There are a million shops selling a million Bob Marley t-shirts and flags and key chains and what have you. And, of course, millions of bottles of Appleton Rum and hot sauce and Rasta hats and caps with fake dreadlocks and t-shirts reading "Ja-mai-ca me so crazy" and other kitschy stuff. There are a lot of ganja jokes and sex-related themes to the shirts, as well as tiny statues of small men with Rasta dreads and those big yellow, red and green hats and GIANT penises. I spotted two schoolgirls of about eight or ten years old walking past some of the statues,then pausing to point and giggle. Oh, well.

I checked out Doctor's Cave Beach, which costs $5 to get in. It's nice, but there are too many guys selling junk, including "Cheap Charlie" with his necklaces. I only heard one guy mention the word "smoke" so that's not bad. Anyway, everyone was having fun in the water and jumping on off-shore trampolines and proudly strutting their stuff on the beach. There's a nice little bar/restaurant called the Groovy Grouper where you can sit and sip a $3 beer and watch the action. Definitely a good spot, although the service is terrible.

Over at Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville, they'll line you up near a giant shark's head and pour double shots down your throat if you're so inclined. Or reclined, I guess you'd say. I don't get the attraction. I like a good drink but I'd prefer to be sitting down or standing and to sip my alcohol, not be force fed. But I don't think I'm in the target group...

Margaritaville is one of the hippest spots on the strip, packed late at night they say. It was busy during the day as a Carnival Cruise LIne ship was in port. There were dozens of people on the top deck, sunning and drinking before storms rolled in. They have a giant water slide that goes from the top deck down to the water two floors below, where they also have a floating dock like those in cottage country, and two yellow and blue trampolines for bouncing, just in case the alcohol didn't have enough of an unsettling effect on your brain.

I got there at 5:30 and the guy manning the slide's entrance said he usually would be closed at 5 but was staying open a bit longer. I dashed down to leave my camera and wallet at a locker but there was nobody there, so I ran back to my hotel, the fine but forgettable Wexford Court, and dropped it off in my room, then ran back. I had given the guy three bucks U.S. to keep the slide open. But when I got there there was a sign saying closed. I asked around for the guy but couldn't find him. I started to leave but he spotted me and said he had been looking for me. He promptly opened the slide and down I went. Damn, it was fun. Very, VERY fast, and then you're suddenly splash down in the Caribbean. I swam out to the trampoline but only had a second before being called back.

Definitely worth doing if you're in the 'hood.

After that it was a killer sunset at a pub called The Twisted Kilt, where the t-shirts read "What's Up Yours?" Another $3 Red Stripe, thank you, this time on draught. Much better than out of the bottle, I think. And then dinner at  a renowned, casual place called The Pelican, where the emphasis is on fish. I had a very good conch chowder and local fish that was fried and then sauteed with onions, carrots and Scotch bonnet peppers. Only a tiny bit spicy but very nice. There were four people across from me who were, I think, British. One guy was a big dude with a bright red, sunburned face and bleached white hair that was all teased up as if he was in a Billy Idol look-alike contest. They all ordered steaks, medium-well. Ugh.

I had planned something of a pub crawl after that, heading out to check the night action. But my being of a certain age and all, it was only 8:15. I heard some commotion at the park across from my hotel and wandered down to see a group of 70 or 80 folks gathered in a square, playing a counting game that looked like a stand-up version of musical chairs. Quite enjoyable. But I felt like a voyeur, so I slunk away towards the Hip Strip.

My first stop was The Blue Beat, a very chic martini bar. There were very cool, wavy seats and lots of blue lighting and red pillows and tv screens showing sexy videos and a Beyonce concert. Not my kinda music, but the girl can put on a show. I ordered a Passion-tini with passion fruit puree, vodka, pineapple juice and Cointreau; yum. But, again, being on my own I felt like a goof so I was outta there in a half hour. There were two people at the bar when I went in and that's all there was when I left.

I wandered back to Margaritaville, a few steps away, and arrived at 9. Okay, now I can mingle a bit, I thought. Nope, there were four or five tourists on stage, dancing, and about six people in the restaurant/bar. I killed a few minutes in the gift shop and came out to find about the same number of folks, including a couple I had seen at dinner and six folks from Philadelphia who I had taken a photo of at the Twisted Kilt.

I gave up. My decadent pub crawl was over at 9:06 p.m. I walked back to the hotel to type up my notes for the day and sort through the 457 photos I took in the day (it might have been more than that, actually) and hit the sack at 10. I would've liked to stay out longer, I really would, but when you're on your own it's not much fun and I didnt' feel like making any new friends.

Of course, I woke up at 2 a.m. and a club down the street was at full throttle. I could hear the beats pounding even with my Shoppers Drug Mart trusty ear plugs in and a pillow over my head. I got back to sleep okay, but couldn't help wondering how it was I never went through a stage where I wanted to slurp back shots or stay out until two or three in the morning.

Me? I like to get up when I'm someplace tropical and enjoy the cool mornings and have a couple cups of coffee and get started on the day. I've been up for sunrise, around 5:30 or 6 a.m., every day since I got here. It's a glorious time of day if you can manage it.

On today to Negril to scope out more of the action and the beaches. My aim is to live on the edge tonight and maybe even be at a bar after 10 p.m. Woo-hoo!

 

Half Moon Resort Golf, HouseBoat restaurant Montego Bay and Ernie Smith!

MONTEGO BAY, JAMAICA - It’s great to eat dinner at your resort, but sometimes you want to get out and see the sights a bit. I hired a cab (more on the outrageous costs in a minute) at Half Moon Resort and asked the driver to take me to the HouseBoat Grill in the Freeport Montego zone, about 20 minutes away. It came highly recommended and sounded funky – a floating restaurant.

Anyway, I get in the cab, which is actually a van that can seat eight people, and I start chatting with the driver, Dennis, who’s maybe 40. It’s a slow time of year down here, with a few families and newlyweds but not so many Canadians trying to escape the cold. I asked where he was from and he told me on the southern part of the island, in Manchester, I think.

I told him I was going down there Friday, or near there, and that I was staying at a hotel designed in part by a woman who was married to the producer or director of the reggae film classic “The Harder They Come.”

The conversation shifted to the soundtrack to the movie and to the main singer on the soundtrack, Jimmy Cliff. Pretty soon out came a shiny, gold CD and two perfect strangers were belting out “but the harder the battle you see, it’s the sweeter the victory” from “You Can Get It If You Really Want”

After three tunes I asked to hear some of his favourite music to broaden my horizons a bit. I kinda expected something edgy, although the guy wasn’t that much younger than me.

“Yeah, mon,” he said. (It’s a cliché but so many folks down here still talk like that). On came something that sounded like country/western hurtin’ music meets reggae meets Detroit Motown soul, with horns pounding behind the chorus and a shuffle beat. What in the world, I asked.

“Ernie Smith,” he said. “Back in the 1960’s. Great stuff, mon.”

It was. I wouldn’t buy an entire CD but there were three or four really fun tunes. By the time the songs were half-finished I was able to pick up some of the lyrics and the chorus, so we sang along together as we rolled through Montego Bay and past a glorious sunset that backed a group of kids playing soccer. Vendors hawking lord only knows what patrolled up and down between cars and we drove past some real shanty-towns; a definite change from the resort.

We soon pulled up to some seafood joints and large factories in the Freeport zone and he stopped the van. I walked down a short pathway and saw a large (maybe 80 feet long, but that’s a guess) houseboat anchored in a quiet bay about six feet from a bank that was lined with mangroves (I believe; don’t hold me to it). There was a tiny, rickety “ferry” that was really just a wooden cart that floats. I asked if I could swim instead but the guy shook his head and laughed.

“Not unless you like eels and manta rays.”

Okay, let’s take the boat. To call it a ferry is to laugh. The guy just pushed off with one foot and we glided across to the restaurant in about 3.7 seconds. It makes the Toronto Island Airport ferry look like the Atlantic Crossing.

Anyway, the restaurant was outstanding. Service, as advertised in the guidebooks, was a touch spotty. But everyone was friendly and the food was great. I had spicy shrimp in a scotch bonnet beurre blanc sauce, a Queen Conch fritter with slaw and a nice salad of mixed greens with orange slices and beetroot, plus a Coke and Red Stripe Bold (6 per cent alcohol, so watch yourself, Byers) and a nice-sized crème brulee for about $35. Expensive for Jamaica but not by North American standards.

The atmosphere was the best part. It’s a touch rickety but the upstairs is wide open to the elements, with a small bar at one end and great views out over the bay to the hills west of Montego Bay. It was nearly a full moon and the light danced on the water and tiny lights on the hills flashed yellow, orange and white as small shards of distant lightning lit up the night sky.

Giant fish came out and splashed about under the boat’s lights, no doubt attracted by the bugs who came to check out the lights. The place was pretty full of what seemed to be locals – one man was pointing out the family home to his daughter – and tourists, including a couple Peace Corps volunteers from New Orleans that I briefly chatted with. A great spot.

The only drawback is that if you’re staying at a resort, you’re likely to get hammered by the cab fare. I don’t know what the deal is, but the resorts seem to have a deal with a local tour company. There’s a big sign at Half Moon that points out the fares for rides to Montego Bay or to local golf courses and such. My fare, for 20 minutes (roughly) each way? $40 U.S. Meaning it cost me $80 to get to a restaurant where I spent $35 for dinner.

Crazy. I mean, those are Toronto prices. I suspect I could’ve done a helluva lot better if I’d walked out into the road and flagged a passing cab, but I can’t say I saw too many of those.

I kept thinking about being in India in April and how a similar ride in a tuk-tuk would’ve cost maybe $4 each way. Maybe.

Oh, well. My driver was there to meet me after dinner and we rifled through another half dozen Ernie Smith tunes before I was deposited back at the hotel for a wonderful half hour out on the resort’s pier, watching the moon dance on the water and the lights on the shore twinkle as gentle waves rolled past.

I almost forgot to mention the morning, which started with a fabulous sunrise and then a great round at the terrific Half Moon Resort golf course. I teed it up with Ewan Peebles, the affable and helpful director of golf, and had a great time. He and our caddy, Kevin, did a great job helping a 55-year-old hacker with his downswing and had tremendous laughs as we watched a good eight or ten drives of mine trickle into fairway bunkers.

I’ll write more about the course in next year’s Golf Magazine in the Star, but suffice to say it’s a very fair resort course. No tricks. No roller coaster greens. No stupid, forced carries. Just good, fair, honest golf. And that’s something we don’t get enough these days.

Thanks, guys.

Finally, I managed lunch at the resort’s Seagrape Restaurant (great snapper in coconut milk and chicken/pumpkin soup with “spinners” - pieces of dough that folks “spin” into small, spiral shapes. Half Moon GM Aram Zerunian, a great guy, told me Canadian arrivals have been growing at double-digit levels for four or fiveyears in a row, which is quite something.

Zerunian is from Austria originally but has lived in Jamaica for some time. Rather than have his family in Europe, he chose to have them live in Toronto – Thornhill to be precise.

“Crime is zilch, the education system is terrific and I love the multiculturalism.”

Heavenly Half Moon Resort in Jamaica ... Can you get too much Bob Marley?

HALF MOON RESORT, JAMAICA - There are resorts. And there are RESORTS.

Half Moon, just outside Montego Bay, would have to be included in the latter, not only for the insane number of amenities and attractions but also for the sheer size of the place.

The resort was born in 1954 on a half moon crescent of sand east of Montego Bay in the Rose Hall  district. A mere 35 acres it was. A baby. It has since grown to a full, Dolly Parton-esque 400 acres.

You like oceanfront? They’ve got two miles of it, much of it lonely, deserted beach. You want swimming pools? They have 54, albeit many of them private ones that are for shared units or villas.

Attractions? How about a top-notch golf course (I’m playing in a couple hours), tennis courts, basketball courts, squash, a cricket and soccer field, a teen’s club, a huge children’s play area named after the famous Anancy books in Jamaica, six or seven bars (I forget), a fabulous spa run by a guy who spent part of his childhood in Goose Bay, Labrador and lived to tell the tale, a yoga centre, spa treatment rooms that are perched out on the water, a conference centre with a room that can fit 1,500 people, a lagoon with two dolphins, croquet, an equestrian centre for riding along the beach, a nature reserve, a hospital on the grounds and a whole bunch of stuff that I’m too lazy to write down right now.

The buildings are all done in up in regal white and there’s plenty of dark wood and lovely stone work and modern bathrooms and tv’s and all that. When I came into my room, they had folded a towel up to look like a swan and had sprinkled it with brilliant pink-red bougainvillea blossoms.

I had a brief lunch and a tasty mahi-mahi sandwich at the Seagrapes restaurant, right on the half moon-shaped beach. The water’s a touch murky right now but it’s fine for swimming and even a bit of body surfing Monday afternoon.

They had me try a little bit of everything, which added up to a lot, up at Sugar Mill restaurant, next to the golf course. It’s a beautiful spot with a patio that’s lit up by overhead lights hanging from gnarly, old trees with huge, droopy leaves on them. The constant, high-pitched pinging of the tree frogs took a minute to get used to but it was a great time, with some really cool Caribbean-fusion food; a jerk chicken spring roll, a fabulously tasty piece of snapper in a coconut-saffron sauce, fresh grilled lobster, deep and smoky crayfish bisque and a wonderful orange-banana bread pudding and mango cheesecake for dessert with Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee.

Yum.

Gonna check out the place some more today and also head into MoBay for a little look-see and dinner. I suppose the size might be a detriment to some people. You need a golf cart to get from one end to the other. But it seems like a place that would be fabulous for families, as there truly is something for everyone. There also seems to be enough privacy that a high-falutin' movie couple could come and find some solitude.

The Queen came here a few years back. Prince Charles and Camilla used one of the villas not long ago, as well. Now, if they can only get Will and Kate....

11 BOB MARLEY SONGS AND COUNTING

I’m a big Bob Marley fan. I remember being in France in 1979 and doing a 2 a.m. conga line to “Exodus” with college kids from all over the world sang at a farmhouse/commune outside Nantes, and, no, I’m not at liberty to reveal any more details.

But as I listened to the speakers at the Sugar Mill Restaurant play his greatest hits album last night, this after landing at the airport and hearing another Bob Marley tune and then listening to some reggae music (and the great Montego Bay song made famous in the 60’s by Bobby Bloom) at the Seagrapes Bar before dinner, I wondered.

I mean, the guy’s awesome, but do people here ever get sick of hearing “Jammin’” and “One Love” over and over?

“Oh, no,” my waitress at the Sugar Mill told me. “He’s so inspirational and the music is so positive.”

I pressed her a little.

“Well, they had a duo playing here every night for a while. Now they’re down at the Seagrapes so we have the Bob Marley music at night. It’s only been two weeks.”

It’s interesting how Marley has come to symbolize an entire nation’s music, even though there are a lot of other great reggae singers and many, many more types of music made on this beautiful island. I mean, Gordon Lightfoot is huge but no Canadian musician garners as much of our country’s musical attention as Bob Marley seems to here.

Maybe the Beatles and England are comparable, but even then I don’t think so when there are the Rolling Stones and so many other popular singers.

Anyway, I gotta admit I fired up “Montego Bay” and “One Love” on my iPod when I was watching the sun go down at my unit Monday night. Why not? Music is a large part of many of our trips.

My son tells me he thought it was corny, but the first time he ventured to Barcelona he turned on his iPod and listened to "Holiday in Spain" by the Counting Crows. Whenever I’m in Hawaii I listen to slack key guitar and ukulele and even the odd bit of Don Ho, who I sang with on stage in Honolulu when I was 12. Okay, I was with a dozen other kids but I was up there.

He even asked all of us to give him a kiss on the cheek when we finished. I was, naturally, horrified. I seem to recall running as fast as I could to get back into the audience but the memory fades….

 

Beautiful new hotel in Vancouver this week ... Winter the Dolphin Movie on way

I had a chance to tour the Rosewood Hotel Georgia in Vancouver in June while it was under reconstruction. I came away hugely impressed with the restoration work and the old-time style, combined with many new and modern elements.

Rooms are in fairly neutral shades, as is the norm these days, but with some nice, bright additions (see photo at left).

Originally opened in 1927, it was something of a revolution in terms of opulence and style for Vancouver. Over the years, such names as Ginger Rogers, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra and the Rolling Stones have stayed there.

They just finished a four and-a-half year renovation, managed by Rosewood Hotels & Resorts, and it's set to open July 15. Officials say the hotel has one of the world's largest private collections of Canadian art. There also are some very cool spaces, including a restored "Spanish Ballroom" and a lovely pool complex on the roof that looks wonderful.

It's located in the heart of downtown Vancouver, near many shops and close to the waterfront.

WINTER THE DOLPHIN

Thanks to Mary Haban at St. Petersburg/Clearwater tourism for filling me on the coming movie "Dolphin Tale."

I hadn't heard the story, but apparently back in 2005 a porpoise was found in a crab pot and lost its dorsal fin. it was all but certain to die, but was rescued and sent to the Clearwater Marine Aquarium.

A character who builds prosthetic devices, played by the wonderful Morgan Freeman in the movie, was enlisted to make a prosthetic dorsal fin for Winter.  It worked, and Winter (played by himself in the movie, by the way) lived to tell the tail tale. Apparently he also has gone through five prosthetic tails over the years.

Heart-warming stuff, although possibly a little over the top for some movie-goers....

Anyway, it comes out Sept. 23 and also has Ashley Judd and Harry Connick Jr. in it.

"The great thing is Winter still lives with us in Clearwater, so people can go see the movie and then come to Clearwater and see Winter in person," she said.

Haban tells me the Clearwater facility is being given a good makeover, including a new dolphin pool complex and a large expansion of the sea turtle rehabilitation facility.

Clearwater remains one of the great beaches of Florida and is, of course, hugely popular with Torontonians. The Blue Jays play their spring training games in nearby Dunedin.

 

 

 

 

Royal couple in Alberta ... Big days for (of Sherlock Homes) and the Beatles

Freelancer Roberta Avery checks in on the royal couple's stay in Alberta.

Media reports that William and Kate stayed overnight in the honeymoon cabin at Skoki Lodge brought back memories of my own visit to Skoki in 2005.

With no electricity and no running water, the words rustic and basic come to mind, but it's also a stunningly beautiful setting on an Alpine meadow high in the Rockies and the welcome I received from managers Leo and Katie Mitzel was, well, fit for a queen.

Not sure if the Mitzels are still there – they were in 2009 when my husband visited - but if they are, I wonder if  Katie cooked them her famous wild salmon with fresh tarragon.

I stayed in the honeymoon cabin on the second night. It was like something straight out of a Heidi novel. The wooden bed covered in thick duvets was soft and comfortable, but the floor of the cabin sloped so much it was easy to imagine that you would slide right out of the front door. Not a happy thought after a nocturnal visit from a grizzly tromping on the front porch.

Then there is the question of the outhouses. The Metzels did their best to keep them clean, but you still had to brace yourself against the overwhelming smell.

There are reports that the cabin was fixed up and a new bathroom was flown in for the royals If that's true, hopefully it will still be there when I next visit.

I always thought that Skoki would be heaven if it just had a flushing toilet.

Meant to get this report from Toronto Star reporter Petti Fong into the blog on the 7th. Mea culpa. But think of me as 364 days early....

Edinburgh, SCOTLAND – Had he lived and had he been a real person (not necessarily in that order), Dr. John H. Watson, Sherlock Holme's faithful companion, would have been 159 years old yesterday.

Some devout Sherlock Holmes fans have tracked July 7, 1853 as the date when Watson was born which gives the fictional character a link to his creator. On this day in 1930, Arthur Conan Doyle, the Edinburgh physician turned writer who created Holmes and Watson, died at the age of 71.
During his time in medical school, Doyle met the men who would inspire him to create Holmes and Watson.

At a current exhibit at Surgeons' Hall Museum in Edinburgh, there are photographs, letters and articles about Doyle's connections in the city and details of his relationship with Dr. Joseph Bell, his teacher in medical school and another physician Dr. Patrick Watson.

“I thought of my old teacher Joe Bell, of his eagle face, of his curious ways and his eerie trick of spotting details,” wrote Doyle. “If he were a detective, he would surely reduce this fascinating but disorganized business to something near an exact science.”

A photograph of Bell, in a deerstalker hat and cape, looks eerily similar to the portrayal of Holmes by actor Basil Rathbone (see photo) in the black and white movie versions.

In Doyle's medical school class notes, he wrote about an exchange between Bell and a patient who walked into a clinic. Using his observation skills, Bell was able to even before talking to the patient, assess the man had been in the army, a Highland regiment specifically, and had recently been stationed in Barbados.

It's the kind of assessment that Holmes would have done with startling accuracy much to the amazement of his sidekick like the time Watson returns for a visit and the detective correctly deduced he went for a walk in the country a week ago, was quarrelling with his maid and had gained seven pounds.
“You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago,” Watson once told Holmes.
Dr. Patrick Heron Watson, the real life counterpart to his fictional namesake, was an assistant to Joseph Bell.

Later, the Edinburgh physician who received his medical licence at age 22 went to the Crimean War where he became a war surgeon just like the fictional Watson did during a rotation in Afghanistan. The real life Watson eventually became a physician to Queen Victoria and later King Edward VII.

The Conan Doyle and Joseph Bell exhibit called The Real Sherlock Holmes include some of the author's first writings including his first published article in the British Medical Journal dated to 1879. Conan Doyle poisoned himself taking a dose of gelsemium over a period of days to see what kind of effects it would have on him.

“I determined to ascertain how far one might go in taking the drug and what the primary symptoms of an overdose might be,” he wrote.

Sherlock Holmes would have been proud.

The Surgeons' Hall Museum is located on The Royal College of Surgeons' campus on Nicolson Street in Edinburgh.

And now for something completely different. Back to Jim B...

A GREAT BEATLES MOMENT

I spotted something on Twitter the other day to say that July 6 was the day Paul McCartney met John Lennon, and that's DEFINITELY worth celebrating.

For those unfamiliar, McCartney was a young lad and went to a neighbourhood party called the Woolton Fete at St. Peter's Church in Liverpool. There, John Lennon was up on stage wearing a checkered shirt and singing for a local "skiffle" band called The Quarrymen.

Paul tells a great story about how Lennon (see photo) was singing "Come Go With Me" but ad-libbing - as only Lennon could, I think - lyrics about going "down, down, down, to the penitentiary."

"I liked that," McCartney has said in numerous interviews. "I thought that was very clever."

Lennon got McCartney to play "Twenty Flight Rock" for him and, I think, show him how to tune his guitar properly and that was enough soon after to get Paul an invitation to join Lennon in The Quarrymen, who eventually morphed into the Silver Beatles and then The Beatles.

They became somewhat popular.

Gotta get myself to Liverpool soon to check out the Beatles sites. I'm told the city has gone through tremendous changes and is now quite something to see.

 

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Porter Airlines perks up with solid numbers... City of Toronto continuing idiocy

Good for the folks at Porter, who continue to carve out a very solid niche in a tough market. Figures for June show Porter Airlines had 64.6 per cent of seats filled with paying customers (called a load factor by people smarter than me).

That's not so high on its own (more in a minute on the competition) but it's far above the 52.2 per cent figure they managed in June of 2010. Chairman Robert Deluce told the Globe and Mail it's their highest mark for ANY month ever; surpassing the 63.9 per cent figure they had last August.

The Air Canada strike might have helped, but it's certainly good news for Deluce, who's talking about expanding to Washington D.C. and perhaps Philadelphia, as well as keeping an eye on spots such as London, North Bay and Timmins.

"Largely, our competition is Air Canada in the East, and we seem to be faring quite well," Deluce said.

Air Canada on Wednesday said its June passenger load factor was 84.2 per cent, down a bit from 84.7 per cent a year ago. WestJet dropped substantially, falling from 78.2 per cent in June of 2010 to 75.7 per cent this past month.

WestJet CEO Gregg Saretsky tried to paint a sunny picture on the June numbers.

"Although loads were slightly down for June, ... We are pleased with the advanced bookings for July and August, and the pricing environment continues to be strong," he said.

CITY OF TORONTO - UNHEARD OF STUPIDITY

I had a remarkable run with the City of Toronto over a fallen tree a few years back; a real comedy of errors. This isn't that bad, but it does make me wonder what city officials are smoking when they tell us how efficient they are.

Last year, the city came to my house in North Toronto and dug up my lawn to replace some old pipes. That's good. They left a huge, gaping hole in a lawn that I had finally got looking great after years of work. That's bad, although unavoidable.

I was told the city would come by and lay down some sod. I waited. I waited some more. Finally, I called. The person on the other end of the phone said, "We can't come lay down sod because we haven't dug up your pipes yet."

I couldn't believe it. I explained there was a six-inch deep and four-foot-wide and six-foot-long hole in my lawn. I was not imagining this.

They took note, but after several days there was still no sod. So I went to Home Depot and bought grass seed and soil and did it myself.

Now, last week, the city came and dug up the sidewalk in front of my house. It was perfectly fine. It wasn't mint condition sidewalk but it wasn't cracked or sprouting weeds big enough to hide small children under or anything like that.

The sidewalk on the other part of my house? Around the corner? That's a mess. Been that way for some time; all raised up in one portion and creating a slope you could nearly ski down. THAT portion they left alone, figuring instead to fix something that didn't need repairing in the first place.

I guess they were worried that their digging might harm my grass, so whenthey had finished the work they nicely laid down some soil along the edge of the sidewalk. Nice, but instead of sprinkling it just where it was needed they dumped bucketfulls of the stuff in a six-inch strip all along the new sidewalk, thus burying the grass I had worked so hard to get back into shape under a thick layer of dirt.

I spent a half hour this morning scraping the dirt off my perfectly good grass and onto the sidewalk, then sweeping it up and, finally, hosing down the sidewalk so that gleaming new patch of cement would look all pretty and nice and so much better than my neighbours sidewalk and make them jealous and confirm the City of Toronto's status as having sidewalks you could not only fry an egg on in summer but WANT to use as a cooking surface because they're all so damned nice and all but certain to attract worldwide attention from major news publications and thus further enrich our city by attracting investment from China and India and maybe even Calgary if they didn't hate us so much.

Have a niceday.

 

Underwear exhibit at N.Y. museum ... Lonely Planet's top food destinations

I've heard of the sex museum in New York City. I even went in once and found it rather unexciting, to be honest.

But now comes something slightly different; an exhibit about underwear through the ages. It's being staged at the History Center in Ithaca, N.Y. - only a few hours drive from Toronto if you're so inclined.

A piecein USA Today says the exhibit features "woolen long johns, corsets and cage crinolines -- a rigid structure worn under long skirts, which not only made sitting impossible, but, in a stiff wind, could lay a hapless wearer flat."

"If anything, this exhibit shows that women have long suffered for fashion," says The History Center's executive director, Scott Callan.

But men have been victimized by their underwear, too. Woolen long johns were standard issue into the 20th century, as were corsets, worn by high-ranking military officers, Callan notes in the USA Today piece.

"I'm happy when someone comes in and has a good laugh," Callan said. "After all, everyone can relate to what's in the exhibit. "

Given how stiff some museum types can be, Callan sounds like a good guy.

TOP FOOD DESTINATIONS - NO USA?

Lonely Planet has a list out of its top 10 food destinations. Thailand, which I'd have to put right up there, was listed first although the LP folks said the countries weren't listed in any particular order.

Also on the list are Greece, China, France, Mexico, Spain, Italy (naturally), India (ditto), Japan (for sure) and Indonesia/Malaysia. It's hard to argue with those, although I might have put Argentina in there for a bit more geographic balance and a bit of old-fashioned steak and potatoes sort of thing.

I guess it's because Lonely Planet is based in the U.S., but I still was surprised to see the USA not listed. I mean, any place that can deliver awesome barbeque, original Cajun recipes and fresh takes on cuisine from around the world deserves a mention.

I'd probably put Thailand and Italy at the top of my list. I can think of no better soup in the world than Tom Yum Goong, with its spicy, rich flavours and shrimp and lemongrass and mushrooms and coriander and chiles. Italy, of course, for pasta and wine and olive oil and great cheeses. I've been making bucatini alla amatriciana a lot since gorging on it in Rome last summer, and it's really terrific.

 

 

 

Surprisingly sexy destinations in Europe ... Venice in danger of vanishing?

Fun item at cnn.com/travel this morning on five "surprisingly raunchy destinations" in Europe. It seems a gent by the name of Tony Perrottet has written a book about European travel and sex, calling it "The Sinner's Grand Tour: A Journey Through the Historical Underbelly of Europe."

It's a great concept. We don't want to admit it, but obviously sex has a lot to do with travel. I mean, those British guys who set out to see Istanbul and Paris on Grand Tour's weren't simply interested in old buildings, right?

"They're very intertwined, sex and travel," Perrottet told CNN. "You didn't just want to go to Rome to see the Colosseum. You didn't go to Paris just to have a look at the Eiffel Tower or the Seine. There was a sense of sexual liberation in these places."

(We here at Star Travel did our own Grand Tour of world destinations last fall, but somehow missed the sexual stuff. Oh, well.)

The CNN item lists five places that are surprisingly raunchy. The one big surprise to me was the Vatican. Until a few minutes ago, I had no idea there was a bathroom in the papal apartments called Stufetta del Bibbiena that featured erotic (not pornographic) paintings by Raphael. There are some two dozen images painted in 1516 that feature the goddess Venus in various poses with Cupid.

Fascinating.

Also on the cnn list: a small village in the French Pyrenees called Montaillou, where there apparently were all sorts of sexual shenanigans played out in the Dark Ages; Paris (naturally) from the Belle Epoque era, including a chair for highly overweight royal family members that allowed them to more comfortably engage in sex; Casanova's Venice, and Lacoste, France - one-time home to the Marquis de Sade. I don't know if the book as a whole has so much on France, but it's interesting that three of the five places mentioned in the CNN story are in France.

VENICE IN TROUBLE?

USA Today is reporting that Venice is "under siege" by tourists and faces "irreversible" catastrophe if limits aren't imposed on visitor numbers. They cite a report issued July 4 by Italy's "leading heritage group," Italia Nostra (Our Italy).

A report from Reuters says the Italian government (perhaps too absorbed with sex scandals?)  has been "underestimating the devastating effects of past and future development projects and tourism policy" and that UNESCO will be asked to put the city on its endangered list and consider pulling it from its list of World Heritage sites.

Some 60,000 tourists a day pour into Venice. I went for part of a day in 1979 and haven't been back. I guess I should go some time, but the day I went I was tired and without much cash and didn't think as much of the place as I had expected.

Either way, the new reports about the city's future are worth watching.

 

Wine, food and fairs; the not inconsiderable charms of Pleasanton, California

We hear a lot of about the Napa Valley and Sonoma and even the central coast of California in terms of food and wine. But not so much about the Livermore Valley, just a little southeast of San Francisco.

It's too bad because it's a great destination that's still relatively low-key. I grew up out there and my first newspaper job was at the Tri-Valley Herald in Pleasanton. I mostly knew it as the home to the still-going Alameda County Fair, which touches down for a couple weeks in late June and early July and is like the Canadian National Exhibition but with live horse-racing that's pretty good.

The ferris wheels and rides are great, there's good entertainment, the beer is cold and the people-watching is superb. Better yet for my taste are the terrific wineries in the Livermore Valley area.

My sister and I did a recent tour, skipping the big boys such as Wente and Concannon (both can be found most of the time, especially Wente, at the LCBO here in Ontario) and instead starting out at Page Mill (see photo at right). They have a nice tasting area with a small but cute courtyard out back for al fresco drinking, and they put out nice chocolate brownies to try with their port. The syrah is quite nice, and the workers are friendly.

We also checked out Thomas Coyne in Pleasanton, which is situated up a dirt road and sits on a small hill overlooking the west end of the Livermore Valley. There's lots of old farm equipment lying about, which makes you feel a bit like you're in the old west. They do a large variety of wines, from Bordeaux style to Rhone varietals, and, again, the people are low-key and friendly to the max.

We retreated downtown after seeing the band Tower of Power at the fair (stupidly they played all of their hits at the second of two one-hour shows, leaving the people who went to the early show steaming mad) and had a fine dinner at a place called Strizzi. We originally were headed to another Italian place on the main street of Pleasanton but found out Strizzi doesn't charge for opening your bottle of wine so checked it out.

They do great pasta and there's a small patio out front if you want to eat outside and enjoy the charms of downtown. There are lovely brick buildings and tons of flowers and an old, green sign that stretches out over Main Street. There are also are funky shops and a couple rough-and-tumble bars, so it's not all cookies and cream.

There's great biking, hiking and golf all around, as well, and plenty of B and B's and larger hotels if you want to bunk down for the night. It's really one of the great small towns of California. Livermore has undergone a huge transformation as well, with fabulous stores and great landscaping and a real country charm. Both are worth checking out, and they're only about 45 minutes from downtown San Francisco and less than that from the Silicon Valley.