Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • On Coffee

      This morning I’m sipping a Starbucks Italian Roast coffee.  I could have chosen Peets or something else.  I’ve grown lazy in my coffee habit.  I have coffee beans and could have ground them using my hand grinder, poured them into a French press and savored the rich results.  Brewing coffee is a ritual.  Some days I’m into ritual.  Today I’m into having a cup of coffee in my hand in under a minute.

      Coffee probably came to New England sometime in the early 17th century, but New Englanders were tea drinkers like their cousins in the mother country.  Coffee didn’t really take off here until after the Boston Tea Party, when coffee became an anti-establishment beverage of choice.  Boston still wasn’t known as a coffee mecca though.  Coffee was something you sucked down to give you a boost or warm you up on a cold day.  And the choices were the same as in most of America – Folgers, Maxwell House, etc.

      Now anyone from Boston better mention Dunkin Donuts when talking about coffee.  Some of my earliest childhood memories were sitting at a Dunkin Donuts counter eating an Old Fashioned Donut.  Coffee memories with Dunkin started much later.  Back before the McDonalds lawsuit, I remember the coffee was scalding hot and you had to wait it out for a bit before you could safely drink it.  Being of questionable intelligence, I always tried to start drinking my coffee a bit sooner than I should have.  Since that lawsuit coffee seems to have throttled back on the temperatures.  Probably for the best but it does take some of the adventure out of the morning.  We all must be protected from ourselves.

      Like many people after college I started paying more attention to the stuff I ate and drank.  Beer was the first thing to get upgraded.  Coffee followed shortly after.  I know it’s sacrilege in New England, but to me Dunkin Donuts is like that K-Cup coffee.  It does the job, but it’s not something I’ll savor.  But savoring coffee wasn’t a thing around New England for the first half of my life.  It became a thing in the 90’s.

      Around Boston, Coffee Connection was our first exposure to a truly rich coffee experience.  It was a place you stopped in when you went to Harvard Square.  Then they started growing and you could find it elsewhere.  Coffee Connection peaked in the mid-90’s and then was acquired by Starbucks.

      Starbucks changed the way we looked at coffee.  It changed the way I looked at coffee.  The first time I had it was on a ferry between Seattle and the San Juan Islands.  I was in line to buy a coffee and when I got up to the front they had two kinds; “coffee” and “Starbucks”.  I remember asking “What’s Starbucks?”  The answer, “It’s like coffee but stronger.” still makes me smile.  Starbucks coffee is not just stronger coffee.  It’s more robust, more flavorful, richer coffee.

      Starbucks jump-started their presence in Boston when they acquired Coffee Connection.  And started a religious war in the process.  Starbucks vs. Dunks.  West vs. East.  Lakers vs. Celtics.  Flashy and expensive vs. working class.  Dunkin Donuts has seized on this in their ads, and customers followed suit.

      I’m an unapologetically diehard Starbucks fan.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll buy DD when I need to, and I love Peets and some of the local coffee houses that serve rich dark roast coffees.  Coffee, like beer, is something to savor.  And the growth of microbreweries coincided with the growth of the coffee industry.  But it’s not for everyone.  Just as InBev owns 45% of the American beer market, and MillerCoors owns the next 26%, Folgers and Maxwell House own the majority of market share in coffee.  Sometimes taste matters, sometimes people only care about the net result.

    • Ice and Snow

      New England in winter is a land of ice and snow.  Sure, there’s all that other stuff here, but when you live here you’re always aware of these two things that encroach on your daily routine more than anything else.  Want to double or triple the time it takes you to get to the office?  Add ice and snow.  It’s the one thing New Englanders never get tired of talking about.  Well, that and sports.

      This morning we got a dusting of snow.  Maybe half an inch of fluffy white snow.  Nothing for us, especially on February 1st.  Now on April 1 we might think half an inch of snow was psychological warfare, but we wouldn’t even bother shoveling it.  You do the math when you live in New England.  Snow in April will go away quickly.  Even the crocuses would laugh at half an inch of snow in April.  Back in February this barely registers.  Just brush of the car and move on, right?

      The wild card with this snow was the ice underneath it.  Snow is a headache but we know it well.  Ice is our other headache, and we deal with it.  Put ice on top of snow and you get a nice crusty treat that my dog Bodhi loves to snack on during our walks.  Crunch & munch the entire walk.  He’s never met a crusty snow bank that he didn’t love.  Add a little road salt and he’s in heaven.  Ice on snow can be beautiful as it glimmers in the sun.  You aren’t making snowballs out of this stuff, but at least it’s nice to look at.

      Ice and snow in reverse is a different story.  Put a half an inch of snow on a patch of ice and now you’ve got a minefield of comic, sometimes tragic proportions.  Add a slight decline and the magic happens.  Slip-sliding, arms waving, eyes-widening magic.  Caught unprepared, snow on ice let’s you know quickly who’s boss.

      I feed birds.  I don’t feed them in summer, when they have plenty of food.  Mostly because I don’t feed bears.  Do we have bears here?  Maybe.  I’ve seen or heard almost every other kind of wildlife native to this area.  So bears are a possibility.  But in February they stay indoors bing watching Netflix, so I feed birds.  Birds bring motion, color and life to the frozen landscape.

      The bird feeders are on a pole out back where the lawn meets the woods.  I realize having bird feeders close to the house would allow me to see birds close up.  That’s nice.  Mine are farther away.  Out beyond the snow covered ice.  Filling bird feeders back there is like going north of the wall.  You need to be prepared.  Dress for success.  I was dressed.  I felt prepared.  I neglected to wear my micro spikes over my boots.  Turns out I wasn’t prepared.  I wasn’t dressed for success.  And so I brought my own motion, color and life to the frozen landscape.

    • Sand, Snow, Sea and Shells

      Winter brings seclusion to the beach.  After all, who’s really lingering on a beach in January anyway?  Well, I am when the opportunity presents itself.  I’m not a beach person in that I don’t see any point in lying on the sand while the sun cooks your skin.  And yet I’m a beach person in that I love to walk on the beach, especially near the surf, and especially when I may find solitude.  Since I’m not wealthy enough to own a private beach, my options for solitude are early in the morning and in the off-season.  A beach in the Northeast doesn’t get much more off-season than January.

      January beach time brings together seclusion, sand, snow, sea and shells.  If that’s not an attractive alliteration I’m not sure what is.  I seek out solitude because I like to think, and I like to re-charge my batteries through nature and walking.  I welcome the occasional sniff from a dog running free with it’s human.  I take a picture that strikes my fancy.  Sometimes I pick up a shell or driftwood or sea glass.  I try to get my steps in for the day.  And I think.  Being alone with your thoughts seems to be less of a thing nowadays.  People escape into their devices, their TV shows, politics, celebrity gossip or sports.  Some escape into a bottle or religion or drugs or exercise programs.  I’m not interested in escape.  I’m interested in enjoying the ride while I’m on this earth.  Now.  Not deferred to some retirement or vacation in the future.

      Tim Ferriss calls this living the lifestyle of the New Rich.  Time and mobility.  I’ve tried over the last decade to build my career around this NR lifestyle.  While I haven’t pulled off the rich part, I’ve generally lived in such a way that I’ve had the freedom to do what I want to do most of the time.  Generally that means being able to see my kids play sports or attending other milestones in their lives, but sometimes it means taking a walk along a cliff in Portugal, or seeing a sunrise from the easternmost point in Newfoundland, or taking a walk on the beach on Plum Island on a random Tuesday.

      Through Ferriss and Ryan Holiday I’ve found myself reading more stoicism lately.  There are three phrases in Latin that I’m trying to embrace.  Amor fati, or “a love of fate”, Memento mori, or “remember that you have to die” and of course the old standby Carpe Diem, or “seize the day”.  Each day I’m trying to live a complete life.  Some days I accomplish more than in others, and I’m always seeking improvement.  Life, like the sand, shells and snow on a beach, is fleeting and ever-changing.  All we’re guaranteed is now.  So if now is all I’ve got, I might as well walk on a beach in January.

       

    • Red #2

      Standing watch at the Mouth of the Merrimack River is Red # 2.  Red # 2 is a navigational buoy that rides out some of the most violent conditions on the East Coast.  Red # 2 is not as well known as MR, which is the first red navigational buoy on the approach to the Merrimack River and the one that most boats set their course to.  MR is the glamor buoy in this part of the Gulf of Maine.  Important, much discussed by boaters and the mark of choice on the GPS.  MR is not just a navigational buoy, it’s a destination.

      Such fame is not in the cards for Red # 2.  But I’d contend that Red # 2 is responsible for more safe passages through the Mouth of the Merrimack than any other.  Set beyond the Salisbury Jetty, Red # 2 marks the channel around the treacherous sand bars beyond the jetty.  Without Red # 2 boaters would be tempted to cut the corner around the jetty on their way north.  These pictures shows the waves breaking over the sandbar between the jetty and our friend Red # 2.  On a calm day a boater wouldn’t realize just how dangerous a tight course around the jetty would be.  So thank you Red # 2, you’re tops with me.

       

    • Portugal: The End of the World

      Started strong on this blog, then petered out as the realities of a job spiraling downhill combined with an irony-filled sales kick off meeting in Portugal left me with not much to say.  Which of course is not the case at all with all that going on.  I’ll work to be more consistent.

      The sales kick off meeting was the usual stuff that goes on when a company goes to great lengths to inspire a sales team.  Well prepared executives telling us how great things are.  Product Managers telling us how great things are going to be.  Sales awards for the past and optimistic spin on the future.  And a dose of ass-kissing and opportunistic positioning by the sleazy element.  Still, as with most companies the majority of employees are truly great people who work hard, are ethical and want to do good things.  I wish them well, and hope they clear the hurdles ahead of them.

      The real adventure in Portugal began when the meeting was over.  I drove from Lisbon to Sagres for some hiking along the coast, fresh seafood and time to reflect in a place completely new to me.  The drive down from Lisbon began on the extraordinary Vasco da Gama Bridge over the Tagus River, continued across a changing landscape of vineyards and cork tree groves that gave way to more arid climate as I approached the Algarve Region.  My destination was the end of the world.

      Sagres was once called that – the end of the world.  The rocky cliffs of Cape St Vincent were the southwestern corner of “civilization”.  And no wonder they thought so.  The rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean crashing into the cliffs of Western Europe certainly felt that way.  Ships rounding the Cape of St Vincent looked to the treacherous cliffs and prayed for favorable winds to keep them from being bashed against them.  Many of their prayers were unanswered and countless sailors perished along this coast.  Imagining the New World beyond the horizon was likely beyond the scope of many of the people living in the Middle Ages.

      Sagres today is a sleepy surf town, full of beautiful vistas and great seafood.  The world back then, as in many places, was a lot more violent and uncertain.  Sagres is incredibly rich in history.  Pirates and privateers raided this coast to rape and pillage and enslave those they didn’t kill outright.  Explorers setting sail from this region mapped the African coast, opened up the sea route for spice trade and eventually circumnavigated the world.  Sagres was the home and final resting place of Henry the Navigator (Prince Henry the Navigator – Wikipedia) who changed the narrow view of Europeans in this time and fueled the Age of Discovery.

      Hiking a portion of the Rota Vicentina in the offseason provided me with a glimpse into the past.  I was struck by the powerful waves of the Atlantic colliding with the sheer cliffs along the coast, and the splendid isolation as the trail moved towards the interior.  For much of my hike I was alone.  Fishermen and tourists were clustered at the lighthouse on Cape St Vincent, but after that I saw five other people on the rest of my 12 mile hike.  Offseason for sure.  Soon after passing the last of the fisherman precariously dangling their poles over the cliffs near Cape St Vincent I found myself virtually alone in the harsh, beautiful terrain.  The footing is challenging; alternating between red sand and sharp limestone and sandstone ready to trip and greet the careless walker who dares to enjoy the stunning scenery for more than a step or two before validating the path.

      Portugal, like Newfoundland, offers seclusion mixed with warm encounters with friendly people.  It’s still relatively unknown as a vacation destination, but that will change.  As indicated by the graffiti I saw throughout Portugal and the broken glass on the trail, not everyone embraces leaving no trace.  I hope that the cultural intolerance for these things increases in the years to come.  I fell in love with this place and hope it never becomes the overbuilt, resort-clogged destination that some other parts of the Algarve have become.

      And now I’m back, with memories, pictures and video of this incredible place.  As with all solo travel I felt the conflicting emotions of savoring the meditative qualities of going it alone with the longing to have shared it with family and friends.  Hopefully I’ll see you again Sagres.

       

    • Don’t Cry About the Weather

      Don’t Cry About the Weather

      The day after the “bomb cyclone” storm that dumped a foot of snow in my area, and wreaked havoc on the coastal areas.  It’s a day when we all take a breath, finish cleaning up the mess and get on with living.  The weather, and the seasons in general, are just part of the cycle.  New Englanders generally don’t get too spun up about it, no matter how much the news channels try to raise your heart rate.  We’ve seen it before and know what to expect.  Though “bomb cyclone” is a new one for us, the weather is what it is.  No use carrying on about it, just clean it up and move on.  Which is what I’m doing now.

      Over the next few weeks I’m going to explore the history of the region, add some cultural observations, write about food, travel, and generally try to make this an interesting read.  After all, this blog could either be an ego stroke or something slightly more worthwhile of your time.

    • Surviving Winter

      Surviving Winter

      Bomb cyclones and polar vortexes, blizzard conditions and brutal cold.  That’s 2018 weather so far.  I think about the first settlers to this region when the weather gets like this.  Depleted food stores, meager heat thrown from the fire you had to feed all year to survive.  Threats from the native population that they were encroaching on, or from the turf wars between the French, British and Dutch.  Tough to stay alive in those days, let alone thrive.  But many of these settlers were used to violent displacement.  Life is easier in so many ways now, and there are safety nets for most of us should be flounder.  Yet most people don’t live.  They seek distraction from their lives in celebrity culture, sports, politics, or television.  We all do it really, but I’m trying to make 2018 more about making progress in my own life and less about everything else.

      Outside the wind howls like its the end of days.  I hope not, because I have a lot to do.