Category: Running

Europe on a Whim

July 6, 2010

The nation’s capital was recovering from the festive Independence Day events, and piles of trash were strewn all over the lawn and pavement. I was on my routine run on the National Mall when I suddenly realized how much better it would be to run in a foreign country. I was on summer break from George Washington University (GWU), and I needed respite from working exhaustively on my startup business plan.

So I stopped in my tracks, pulled out my phone from my fanny pack, and called the Andrews Air Force Base passenger terminal. A C-17 was departing that night for Germany with a roll call of 2210. I rushed home and started stuffing my garb into my threadbare backpack. Normally I would need a couple of days to pack for these trips. But today, I only had a couple of hours.

Service members, retirees, and their families were traveling “Space-A” — short for space available — on an Air Mobility Command flight to Germany. If a seat on the 54-seat Globemaster cargo aircraft was available they could travel without charge.

The C-17 with the 445th Airlift Wing normally ferries troops and cargo around the world. On its way to Afghanistan, plenty of people were headed to Europe for the Christmas holidays.

There were no more seats available. As a military retiree, I was bumped to the bottom of the barrel. A family of four had to rush home to grab some gifts they forgot to bring. If they didn’t come back in time, I would be assigned one of their seats.

Needless to say, by midnight I sat shivering away on a metal seat, the only cost for the flight was $10 for a box lunch, its baloney sandwich and carrot sticks as hard as ice. Many families with children were bundled up in blankets and lying on sleeping bags. The jet was so loud passengers had to wear earplugs and thankfully my dose of trazodone reposed me to psychedelic-like sleep. When I woke up, eight hours later, we were arriving at Ramstein Air Force Base. The sun was just rising over the Luxembourg horizon. It was Christmas Day, and there were plenty of rooms available at the Ramstein Inn.

I’ve been to Germany many times over my career. My last duty station in the Navy was at the U.S. European Command in Stuttgart. I would love to enjoy schnitzels and Pils for Christmas, but the main intent on this trip was to run in warmer pastures.

So I found a flight to someplace more sultry and exotic for only 150 Euros. It was an Air France flight from Frankfurt to Paris. I was fortunate to have an overnight, 9-hour layover in Paris — the only catch — it was in Orly, an airport an hour and a half from Charles de Gaulle.

What a weird concept. It was like having an overnight layover in Reagan. Then hopping on a taxi to Dulles 30 miles away to board the next flight.

Orly Airport was as dead as a wing joint in Paris. The terminal was closed but luckily several of us managed to find a spot to catch some ZZZs, away from the custodians and security guards.

The next morning, I hopped on a taxi to CDG and then caught a puddle jumper to Barcelona. I was excited but also dead tired — flying on military Space-A and sleeping on the floor in Paris airports started to take their toll.

I checked into the Party Hostel Kabul, a vibrant oasis located just a 4-minute walk from the Liceu subway station. Its prime location in Plaza Real, nestled amidst the ancient streets of the old city and a stone’s throw away from the illustrious Picasso Museum, made it an irresistible choice. The name itself evoked an aura of revelry, beckoning me into a world of excitement and adventure.

Arriving exhausted, I opted for a mixed-gender dormitory and immediately crashed into bed. When I woke up at 6 pm, I refreshed myself with a shower and checked my email before venturing downstairs to explore the bustling Las Ramblas. It was there, on my way down, that I encountered a group of friendly backpackers – Brazilians, Canadians, and two adorable American sisters named Meagan and Marcy Miller from NYC.

Curious about their plans, I put on my best Southern twang and asked, “Where y’all headed?”

“Marsella, the oldest bar in Barcelona,” Meagan replied.

“Yeah, Picasso and Gaudi used to frequent that place. It’s still exactly the same as it was in 1820,” added Marcy.

Intrigued, we embarked on a journey through the charming Gothic Quarter, wandering its narrow medieval streets adorned with trendy bars and Catalan restaurants. The district, once a Roman village, juxtaposed ancient architecture with buildings from the turn of the century. Artisans sold leather and jewelry near the 15th-century Barcelona Cathedral, where a delightful courtyard housed playful geese. Meanwhile, working girls roamed the winding streets in search of love and fortune.

“10 Euros,” one of them advertised, while another whistled and winked, provoking a ripple of mixed emotions within me.

Cathedral of Barcelona

Barcelona proved to be a shopper’s paradise, offering everything from large commercial stores on Calle Portal de L’Angel to pint-sized boutiques on Calle Avinyo. Our intended 5-minute stroll turned into a 45-minute sightseeing excursion, filled with cultural attractions and delightful diversions..

Finally, we arrived at Bar Marsella, stepping into a bygone era of old Barcelona that still clung on but was slowly fading away. The walls, stained chocolate brown from years of cigarette smoke, and the century-old whiskey bottles covered in dust created an atmosphere steeped in history. Chunks of paint fell from the ceiling, while thick cobwebs adorned the vault and antique chandelier, adding to the bar’s mysterious ambiance.

Our bartender, Sebastián, greeted us warmly, boasting, “Hemingway was a regular here. We’re famous for our absinthe.”

“Really? Absinthe is banned in the US,” Meagan remarked. “They say it causes hallucinations.”

“Absinthe is a spirit, not a liquor,” corrected Sebastián with a crude smile. “And we serve 100 proof here.”

“Well, we’ve made it this far. There must be a reason why Picasso was such a great abstract artist,” Marcy quipped playfully. “I’ll buy the first round of shots.”

“You don’t drink the absinthe straight. It’s too potent and disgusting,” Sebastián said flashing a crude smile.

“Then how do we drink it? As a cocktail or a mixed drink?” I asked.

Sebastián explained that we could order it in a cocktail, mixed with a mojito, or experience the traditional French way. Intrigued, we opted for the latter.

Sebastián prepared the Marsella, a concoction of one part absinthe and five parts iced water poured over a sugar cube on a fork until it dissolved. He advised us to sip it slowly, warning of a scalding sensation if we gulped it down.

The absinthe’s wormwood and anise flavor proved acrid and potent, but the sugar mitigated the bitterness, while the water diluted the drink, making it more palatable. It was a Mediterranean ritual, marking the beginning of an extraordinary European adventure.

“Swallow this slowly,” Sebastián suggested. “Or else it could scald your throat.”

As the night progressed, Marcy exclaimed, “Ok, the next round, I wanna light it on fire.”

“You can get lit tonight Marcy as long as you live tomorrow to tell the tale,” Meagan quipped.

“And I’ll be sure to wake you up early so we can catch the beautiful Barcelona sunrise,” I added, raising my eyebrows for emphasis.

The next morning, Marcy and I caught a glimpse of the first rays peeking over the Mediterranean Sea at Port Olímpic. Built in 1991, the marina hosted water sports and sailing for the ’92 Summer Olympics.

We ran on the spacious stretch of sand alongside sculptures of sea life to the Barceloneta fishing village. Then we ran past the ferry station and the largest Marine Aquarium in Europe.

“We went there yesterday,” Marcy said, pointing to its unique, cylindrical shape. “It’s a Mediterranean-themed aquarium, and they have a large tunnel which gives you the feeling that you are swimming with the sharks.”

“I would love to pay a visit, but I’m running out of time here. Where else did you guys go?”

“We visited Camp Nou. Meagan and I are both Barcelona FC fanatics.”

“Is that right? I’m a big fan of Lionel Messi, too. He’s the greatest of all time.”

As we ran past the World Trade Center, we saw Christopher Columbus pointing to the distant west over an ornate Corinthian column.

“The hostel staff told me that this is the top tourist spot in town,” Marcy stated

We stopped to admire the statue and then approached to read the plaque.

Monumento a Colón

Monumento a Colón — constructed for the Exposición Universal de Barcelona in 1888. Location of the site where Columbus returned to Spain after his first voyage to the Americas. The monument serves as a reminder that Barcelona is where Christopher Columbus reported to Queen Isabella and Ferdinand after Columbus’ most famous trip.

“Columbus is such a hero in this country.”

“But he’s not adored back home,” Marcy rebutted. “Many consider him a villain who embraced slavery, colonialism, brutality, and theft of indigenous land.”

After discussing the significance of the memorial and watching people starting to accumulate, we ran back along the tree-lined promenade on La Rambla.

“So now that you’re retired from the Navy and getting your MBA, will you be working a government job?”

“I dunno, but I really hope not. I want to do something entrepreneurial, something that will help people and continue traveling not just overseas, but in the US.”

“How old are you?”

“42, and you?”

“24, I thought you were a lot younger.”

“Age is how you perceive it.” I replied with a grin.

Returning to the hostel, we witnessed fellow backpackers emerging for breakfast, enjoying sweet rolls with jam and café con leche. Meagan descended the stairs, stretching her arms and yawning before giving her sister a warm hug.

Meagan came down, stretched her arms, and yawned. Then gave her sis a heartfelt hug.

“Glad you’re alive after last night.”

“We’re very much alive. We ran three miles and saw many Barcelonians jogging,” Marcy uttered. “The city is most spectacular at the crack of dawn.”

“So I’m sorry to see you go tomorrow,” Marcy said with a twinge of sadness. “Where’s your next adventure?”

“Normandy, France, then off to London to see my folks. You guys should join me.”

“Well, it’s not like we have much going on. What do you think Meagan?”

“Thanks for the invitation, but we really have so much more to see and do in Barcelona.”

“Like what?” Marcy asked with a twinge of displeasure.

“Well for one we have to do the obligatory girly thing and lots more shopping on La Rambla. And two, we still have lots of museums to see such as the Picasso Art Museum.

“Those things are important, but recognizing the sacrifices of the greatest generation is priceless,” Marcy replied.

Normandy

As we looked over Omaha Beach, we paid homage to the D-Day troops in Normandy. The troops faced a daunting challenge. The invasion was beset with ineffective air strikes, and poor naval bombardments. This set up the Allied troops against an almost unscathed German front, armed with formidable machine gun fire. The only chance of cover, was to run towards the enemy.

Sixty-five years later, the hilly seaside bore few scars from the dark and gray day of June 6, 1944. But on that longest day, things had turned to hell in a hurry.

I could not imagine these young soldiers jumping out of their LCAs (Landing Craft Assault), crossing the slippery beach and climbing the cliff face via ropes and grappling hooks in the face of nasty fire.

It was extremely unnerving. The soldiers could hear the heavy thump of shells bombarding the exterior of the coffin-like LCAs as they were approaching the shore. They knew death was knocking, but they kept approaching. They kept their mind affixed on the Star Spangled Banner and Her Majesty the Queen.

Some shells hit dead on, the LCAs exploding into tiny pieces like a box of eggs dropped from the Eiffel Tower. Many soldiers perished from gunshot, blast or drowning before even hitting the shore. They would never set foot on the foreign beach they aspired to reach, the sea crimson red, their faces, white with shock and trepidation.

It was a travesty to see so many young, unbounded lives forever lost on the blood-soaked beaches. At the American Cemetery, we could see thousands of white crosses and Stars of David facing patriotically towards their homeland, saluting with only their solemn smiles. This is the final resting place for 9,400 Americans along with a monument to 1,500 more listed as missing in action. How sad that we never found their bodies — brave Americans who never got to come home, their bodies washed away in the English Channel.

“Have you lost close friends in the current conflict?” Marcy asked as she placed her hand softly on my shoulder.

[ Image: American Cemetery .png ]

American Cemetery

“Yes, one to each war – a buddy who I went to school with and a coworker at the Naval Hospital in Bethesda.”

“I’m very sorry. D-Day was necessary to allow the Allies to complete the liberation of Western Europe. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are unjust and a tragic verdict of 9/11.”

Marcy and I continued on our run along Av. Moulin flanked by hedgerows and surrounded by geography very similar to what our soldiers faced 67 years ago.

A couple of km later, we were back in Omaha. The beaches still bore witness to the immense human sacrifices. Numerous German battery sites were maintained in excellent condition (since countless, young Germans had surrendered without putting up a fight). As a result, we were offered a rare glimpse into a living, life-less museum that clearly depicts the power and plight of the mighty German defensive. Luckily, many of the troops from Eastern Europe and Asia would surrender at the first opportunity. Many of them were comprised of an international army made up of troops from throughout the Soviet empire and even China and Korea. Can you imagine the looks in the eyes of our GIs when they first faced their enemies?

But still, many Germans fought viciously and effectively. The Germans had four huge casements with a 205 mm cannon. These guns were effective in dueling with American battleships. For eight days, the German soldiers stayed inside the casements with virtually nothing to eat and drink but stale bread and bad water. They had no place to use the bathroom — yet they stayed. Many did not surrender until they ran out of ammunition.

“If you were a young soldier during Normandy, would you risk your life for your country?”

I thought long and hard. “The simple answer was yes, but would I be brave enough to carry out my duties the same way these men did on these beaches? That is an enduring question that bears no easy answers.”

“Why don’t you plan a run back home,” Marcy suggested. “Kind of like the run we did in Barcelona, to see all the amazing sights and to ponder on the significance of these historic landmarks?”

“That’s a wonderful idea. It’s a great way to understand different cultures and to navigate through the sights and sounds of the old continent.”

The English Channel was rough and choppy the next day when I caught the Normandie Express to Portsmouth, England — a high-speed catamaran cruise ferry. I would have time to reflect on the profound question and consider the interesting suggestion from Marcy. She and her sister would catch the Eurail to Paris, and I thanked them for giving me incredible ideas to ponder.

In London, I visited my sister, Kim, my nieces Kae and Rio, and nephew Rintaro at their Chiswick, West London flat. It was a special, last-minute, family reunion – my first time seeing everyone all together.

I gave Kim a tight embrace. “I’m very sorry for the loss of Grandma.”

“Thank you. She will always have a special place in my heart.”

August 7, 2022
Apollo Asala

In 2011, I kicked off the EU Embassy Run as a casual run on a whim. I coerced a couple of friends to join and for the last several years, a small gaggle would gather at the French Embassy and run 13 miles visiting a dozen tightly-packed embassies along the way, ending up at the Austrian Embassy in Van Ness in NW D.C.

By 2014, I wanted to expand the run, so I contacted Rick Amernick to post the event on the DC Capital Striders homepage. Surprisingly, 40 eager runners signed up. We were indeed bursting at the seams, but there was room for one more stowaway — Apollo who would fly alongside and blithely perch on people’s shoulders. Apollo was a veteran runner who has enjoyed going on long-running excursions with me throughout this sociable city. Naturally, Apollo loved to fly, but with his wings clipped, he wouldn’t go too far, normally to the nearest shoulder or to a low-hanging limb.

On May 10, 2014, the jaunt started at the Embassy of France and followed Reservoir Road through Georgetown, before climbing uphill on Wisconsin Ave.

Then we meandered our way through Embassy Row visiting Greece, Ireland, and Romania successively.

There were a lot of cultures to experience and of course fabulous food tastings not to mention the most magnificent, crisp lagers this side of heaven.

Motivated by the allure of fresh hops, we steadily climbed Mass Ave until we reached Netherlands, Belgium, Hungary, Czech Republic, and Finland.

My neighbor, Quentin Cummings ran along and was more than eager to imbibe on traditional European beer along the way.

Throughout the run, we proudly raised the dark blue flag with a circle of twelve yellow stars and ran at a steady pace until reaching Austria and Slovakia on International Drive. There, we celebrated and rejoiced when we reached the coveted black and white checkered flag.

“Say, the run is picking up speed with D.C. locals. Why don’t you organize an official run next year? Have people register online so people can commit ahead of time,” Rick suggested.

“That’s a great idea. Charge a nominal fee and raise money for charity. I can also get T-Shirts printed out and put our logos on the front.

Orlando Darden Jr

To have the honor to lead 45 amazing runners, along a scenic, occasionally hilly 13-mile journey starting from France and ending at Austria. All enjoyed a diverse cultural experience! Thank you Runin Out for creating such a fun and memorable event and thanks to #RunnersWorld for enduring the busy streets to photograph our entire run! This year’s event turned out to be an awesome adventure! Next years promises to be EPIC!

The week after the run, I gave Rick a call.

“Hey remember that Lebanese bistro on Connecticut Ave that we passed on the way to the Hungary and Czech Embassies?”

“Yup, the Taverna. Love their hummus — great protein-infused snack to fuel up right before a long run.”

“Well, we can’t make Lebanon a part of the EU, but we can definitely host a meetup and entice runners with healthy Mediterranean cuisine paired with a high-energy form of dancing?”

The following week, runners from all over the DMV came in droves to appreciate the benefits of consuming hummus with tahini and shaking hips to develop core strength.

Asala’s willowy arms and legs moved in synch, captivating and charming Lebanese guests and runners alike. Her trademark was attractive and personable, and she was easily able to entice hardy runners to join her.

Rick raised his arms like a ballet dancer. “Have to say, this is the most exotic event, we’ve hosted so far. Great way to train for a marathon.”

I raised my arms in unison. “You guys are totally hot. Women dig dudes who can dance.”

Orlando swung his hips smoothly like Fred Astaire. “Yes, that was a blast. Enjoyed balancing the air cake on my head. That was no joke a cakewalk.”

Asala reached over to pick up a prop. “Glad you enjoyed it. Since you thought it was cake, you can balance my sword next time. And you better not drop it on your toes.”

Orlando picked up the curved sword and felt the sharp blade with his hand. “Yes, that does seem quite dangerous. Girl, you got talent.”

“Next time, I’ll bring my Shamadan Candelabra. Men who incite danger are inspired by the sight of fire.”

I used a spare tablecloth to mimic Asala’s magic motions. “My personal favorite are Asala’s wings. They’re colorful and shiny and quite dramatic.”

Rick took a large bite from his shawarma slider. “And the food was indeed healthy and appetizing. If I ate here regularly, I wouldn’t need to run every day.”

“So happy you all enjoyed it, and I am thrilled with the audience participation. I perform every Thursday. Tell all your friends to come — it’s more challenging than yoga and more fun than running.”

Charlie came by to check on the setting of the tables. “Yes, we need to fill up the restaurant. We love to bring in new guests who will also enjoy our food.”

I raised a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon to my lips. “How ‘bout we host a fundraiser here next time. We can just host RUNINOut events in conjunction with Asala’s performances.”

“Well get our fattoush and tabbouleh featured prominently online, and we’ll be happy to provide you with all the hummus you want for future events and fundraisers.”

“Thank you so much, Charlie! Can I have another Almaza please?”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough already? BTW, next week, you should visit Grace, the owner, at the original Taverna in Arlington. Maybe she’s got more work for you to do. I know they need a new website to feature all their locations.”

In the following months, we held fundraisers for We Are Family Senior Outreach Network and the Association of Young Americans. Together, we had saved the Raqs Baladi events from the chopping block.

The working relationship with Lebanese Taverna, local meetups and Asala El Masri would pay off splendidly for months to come.

July 15, 2022
The Skies are Gray

Donald “Clay” Clay, an Air Force veteran, was enjoying his stogie while chit chatting with friends, watching boats slipping by. On every weekday afternoon when the weather is fine, he and a half dozen of his perennial friends such as Robert “Bleu” Jones and Kimo Tavares gather at the Slip Inn to chill, booze up and snack on the crowd-favorite George wings. No one knows for sure why they call them George, but rumor is one of the cooks from the earliest days in the 80s came up with the secret breading.

The Tiki bar and restaurant wasn’t located in the Navy Yard, Old Town Alexandria or the National Harbor — places packed with tourists. Instead it was tucked away at the edge of Joint Base Anacostia Bolling, a well-kept secret amongst retirees. That’s why Clay, Bleu and a handful of old timers made it a daily ritual when the clouds are clear and the skies are blue.

And the weather forecast for the next three days was bright and promising. There was a ton of activity as military personnel and their families kicked off the glorious weekend with Country Western Night featuring a local, up-and-coming talent.

Sara Gray is a singer, song-writer from Indian Head, MD., just down the beaten river in Southern Maryland. The first time she sang in public was at the age of three on a cruise ship — from the soundtrack of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. She watched her father sing in his local band, then started performing at church and has rendered the National Anthem at various community events. At 16, she wrote her first song and her budding repertoire focuses on country and classic rock. For the last year, her schedule has been in high demand, opening for country stars such as Toby Keith, Dierks Bentley, the Zac Brown Band and Luke Bryan and performing all over the DMV.

Sara Gray covering”Cowboy Take Me Away”

Sara Gray loves audience participation

“I’m so happy to be on the stage where I feel right at home. I love getting the crowd involved, clapping, dancing and singing along. They inspire me.”

Justin Voskuil bartending at the Slip Inn Tiki Bar

Sara Gray singing her original “One of A Kind”

Photos by Skvora limited media

July 14, 2022
Pedicabber

The following weekend, Zach and I were in my Subaru Baja, driving at full speed on the N.J. Turnpike to NYC.

“Why are we driving up to the Big Apple just to pick up a damn rickshaw?” Zach asked incredulously. “Segways are all the rage on the Mall.”

“So we can hang signage promoting our brand and ride it all over town like a taxi cab.”

“Can’t you just buy one in D.C.?”

“There’s a premium for these three-wheeled wonders in the metro area. But in NYC, where their popularity was spurred, there’s a superabundance.”

Many tourists choose to ride the pedicabs instead of taking a bus or taxi because it allows them to observe the surroundings better and because the bikes can squeeze through heavy traffic. And sure enough, as soon as we crossed the Lincoln Tunnel, the busy streets of Manhattan were congested with taxis, bikes, scooters, and pedestrians. One pedicab driver just purchased a medallion to own a taxi and was selling his weaning out of the travel destination business. He was happy to let it go for $1800, and I was delighted to take it off his hands. We deftly squeezed the pedaled contraption on the bed of my Baja and with the handlebars hanging over carried it home to greener pastures. When we landed at the Mall and took her on a spin-down Constitution, she looked like a Lamborghini basked in sunshine.

“I will dub her Lil Yellow.”

“Yes, she looks sleek and shiny and will definitely turn some heads.”

“She’s not just for advertising. She’s to make a few bucks, and you’re welcome to ride Lil so you can earn extra beer money. How else is a scavenging Colonial supposed to survive? I know it sucks to be a non-paid intern.”

“Yes getting paid with cheeseburgers and subs gets old after a while. Yes, I’ll love to take her on a spin after class and see if I can coerce some stray tourists to pile on.”

“Sounds like a plan. And don’t forget we’re not licensed to charge a fare but can easily take donations.”

“Super, I’ll bring along my school work which I can tackle when there’s a lull.”

“Yes, please use your time wisely, and take the opportunity to learn more about the history and landmarks so you can better inform and entertain your guests.”

When Zach was parked at the green zone in front of the American History Museum, he spotted a pretty Persian girl with long brown hair and knee-high socks. Tall and tanned, she looked like a supermodel on wheels, and it was evident that she was passionate about her mission.

Her name is Shaadi, and she was a former elementary school teacher turned into an enterprising rockstar.

“How did you get into this business dominated by jocks, vets, and hippies?”

“Well, I got into an accident, and doctors found a tumor in my left leg. They removed it, and the tumor returned. When I was rehabbing on a stationary bike, it was challenging to have my right leg get my other leg to go around. So I made a pact with myself. ‘The day I can ride my bike again, I’m gonna ride for 50 miles, and I’m not gonna stop.’”

Shaady took Zach under her wings and got him up to speed on the history and background of this fledgling business.

Last summer, the Park Police started cracking down on pedicabbers on the Mall. They claimed we were cutting into the Tourmobile monopoly that the National Park Service had a long-term contract with. An operator was attempting to pick up customers in front of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum when he was tased, tackled, and arrested.

“Damn, that’s harsh. So the Park Police Gestapo felt threatened, so they started suppressing our Eco-Friendly business model.”

“Yes, we’ve come to a truce now. I love your silly monkey logo, by the way. I’ve got six pedicabs and would love to advertise your brand on our backs.”

“Love how environmentally friendly this is,” stated a tourist from Maine. “Summer days are just roasting, and we’re too exhausted to walk up and down the Mall. Take your time and tell us all you know about the spots.”

When Zach wasn’t using the cab to shuttle tourists, Lil Yellow was employed during multiple events such as Taste of D.C., where we interacted with various vendors such as the Cupcakes Lounge. The multi-day culinary event along Pennsylvania Ave attracted some of the region’s best restaurants and lively entertainment.

People loved the thrill of the ride and they loved posing and shooting selfies. Even met a young, newlywed couple who deemed it quite romantic and were found smooching in the back.

“Are we allowed to drink inside the cab?” a passenger asked meekly.

“I don’t see why not. The only stipulation is that the driver can’t drink. But please buckle up.”

During our reconnaissance and cold calls with Suzannah, I would drive the pedicab and she would sit in the back waving at dumbfounded passersby. From time to time, we would pick up a sightseer or a tipsy passenger bar crawling along H Street. Lil Yellow was our lucky charm. We were able to negotiate business with Biergarten Haus on H St., Ulah on U St., and Jake’s American Grille in Chevy Chase.

Our pedicab and signage got a lot of attention, and we were invited to provide complimentary rides during the H Street Festival, the quintessential 10-block street party featuring live music, karaoke stages, live music, and yes, even belly dancing.

It was a sweltering, hot day, and many people were tired of having to walk from 3rd to 14th street. My illustrious intern agreed to provide rides as long as I provided refreshments and he kept all the tips.

When we weren’t providing rides, guests enjoyed using our cab as a photo op, and we were happy to oblige.

Every year, the British-themed double-decker bus would be parked in front of The Queen Vic where Newcastle Brown Ale flowed like the River Thames.

There was a half-pipe for local skateboarders. Dangerously Delicious Pies sponsored a hands-free pie-eating contest and the grungy ex-funeral parlor turned lounge, Rock and Roll Hotel, pumped music all day.

Zach and I got to meet so many people — tourists, locals, business owners, and artists. One gifted performer specialized in Egyptian belly dance, and she was quite a ravishing entertainer. Dressed in a red chiffon hip scarf, the Arabian beauty swayed her hips and shimmied her body rhythmically to the cheering audience’s delight. I didn’t catch her name, but I promised to introduce myself the next time I see on stage.

There were also tons of local artists such as Pete Baker, and Flo Anito was strumming her guitar, singing her tongue-in-cheek ballad to the vacuum “No Dustbunnies.”

Flo is a classically trained vocalist and pianist and sang like a blue jay on a hot summer day.

The H St Fest was the best block party in town. There were tons of people and lots of random conversations. It was the best marketing event we could dream of and the word was definitely getting out that RUNINOut was about rides.

In the Fall, we provided support at the Marine Corps Marathon cheering runners and even offering free rides to spectators or exhausted runners who wanted to beat the (14th street) bridge. Runners had to maintain a 14 min/mile pace until mile 22 or else they would be taken off the course and bussed back.

The ending was great with Marines in their BDUs shouting “Oorah” and handing out the coveted Eagle, Globe and Anchor finisher medals. There were tons of photo-op moments, and we all had a blast, especially Kanita, who lost her voice screaming and cheering.

“The pedicab is great for marketing. You should take her on a spin on Halloween night and get more people to come aboard,” she suggested.

One thing about the intelligent mind of a great attorney — she was always a source of great ideas. And so was my reliable sidekick, Suzannah.

“I have an idea for an event.” Suzannah said. “Hold a reelection night party for Obama at the Rocket Bar in Chinatown.”

And November 6, 2012, President Obama and his running mate Joe Biden had easily gotten reelected and the GOP, it seemed, had become the grand old party of the past.

June 17, 2022
Prayers for Nepal

May 12, 2015

The views at the Georgetown waterfront were busy with paddle boarders launching from the Key Bridge Boathouse and lunchers enjoying the open patio seating at Sequoia and Tony & Joe’s Seafood Place. Bikers were crisscrossing the Capital Crescent trail on their way to Bethesda or Cabin John. Runners and strollers were enjoying the historic C&O Canal stopping at the numerous bakeries and coffee shops to grab a bite or to enjoy the rich, sweet aroma.

While kids were splish-splashing in the fountain and grown-ups were getting their feet wet, Sunita Amatya was sitting on the side of the river, praying for the thousands of lives lost thousands of miles away.

On April 25, 2015, a 7.6 magnitude earthquake struck the city of Kathmandu in central Nepal killing 9,000 people, affecting millions of lives, and causing $10 billion in damage.

“May the tragic and devastating situation get better with Divine grace. May all five elements of the creation (earth, water, fire, space, and air) be balanced forever and will there be no more natural disasters,” she chanted towards her Supreme Deity.

The common belief is that to experience enlightenment one must be quiet and sit motionlessly. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Then as her prayers to Dharma were received, her devotion transformed to dance as hundreds of sightseers and gawkers were entranced by her majestic movements. But this was not a performance. Sunita was touching her dimension beyond her limited mind and body. It was an inner engineering language to express life energy while using the body as an instrument.

Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, she saw a spirited straggle of runners. Not just any runners that you would see spurting all over the pristine paths of D.C. But these exuberant runners were adorned in bright red Embassy Run shirts, matching their crimson red Nepali flags they were waving. The color symbolizes the brave spirits of the Nepalese people and the two triangular pennants represent the Himalaya Mountains and the two major religions: Hinduism and Buddhism.

The astounding sight was too coincidental to be a coincidence. She quickly rose and with the enlightened spirit of Buddha followed the throng to a neighborhood saloon on Water Street called Mr. Smith’s.

For a second, she wondered whether she belonged here. The pub was unassuming and low-key, and there she saw what seemed like a hundred road-weary warriors all dressed in crimson red, nursing a cold Dos Equis.

“Saw you guys running by the waterfront. Are you running for Nepal?” she asked gingerly.

“Absolutely, we’ve been running 13 miles and raising awareness for survivors of the earthquake,” I answered. “Are you from Nepal?”

“Why yes, I was just at the park praying and dancing for the plight of our people. And Prince Shiva led me down this path to join your gathering.”

“That’s quite poignant. We were devastated when we heard about the earthquake, and we wanted to use our run as a vehicle to raise awareness and funds.”

“Then Prince Siddhartha answered my prayers. My son, Sudin, and I are also raising money for recovery and relief, but our efforts to date have fallen short.”

“I think there are ways that we can collaborate. But first, tell me why dancing is so transformative.”

“Dancing helps us purify our thoughts and heart and heals us from physical and mental pain. It’s to let God in and to let go of any negativity — to attain bliss.”

“Wonderful, Audrey Pichmimi said. “Can you show us outside how you perform your dance?”

[ Image: Sunita-dancing-in-Georgetown-1024×689.png ]

Sunita showed us how to dance for enlightenment on the Georgetown Waterfront

The following Thursday evening, a couple of dozen revelers, runners, and members of the Newah Organization of America (NOA) amassed at Courthaus Social in Arlington to honor the people of Nepal, discuss earthquake relief opportunities, and enjoy music and dance.

Sudin plays Sax @ Courthaus Social

Sunita brought her talented son 16-year-old, Sudin who played the sax and sang traditional folk music. The music carried powerfully through the outdoor patio on a warm spring night, and many onlookers inquired about the cause — NOA was able to also receive generous donations from those who were deeply touched and wanted to show their support.

We charged $20 for entry which included a wide selection of appetizers. Jackie was instrumental again, spreading the word and getting people to book the event through her site, Bookalokal

Audrey, who was enamored with Sunita’s faith, returned to help raise money and to enjoy Nepali music.

By the end of the night, we were able to present NOA with a check for $1,000

Members of NOA receiving a donation from the Nepal Relief Fundraiser

“We are extremely grateful for your spirit of generosity,” said Ram Shrestha, president of NOA. “We will be able to provide medical supplies and build temporary shelters with these funds.”

“Thank you very much,” Sunita said. “This divine circumstance proves that praying and dancing is indeed transformative.”

“It’s our great pleasure, to serve a small part in this. I’m now a true believer in the power of spiritual dancing. My thoughts and prayers to the courageous people of Nepal.”

June 15, 2022
RUNIN — the Theme

RUNIN is not exactly about the joys (or pain) of running. It’s not about running out of food either. Did you realize that RUNIN is actually a back acronym? Huh? Let’s take a look at the qualities of the Ethiopian Diaspora.

They were all Resourceful in surviving tough living conditions and eventually found success in their business ventures. They Understood the local environment well and identified the target market audience before starting their businesses in Ethiopia. They had to Negotiate with business owners, investors and the local governments who at first had little faith in them. They had to be Innovative to find the right business that would fill a void. And they all made bold decisions but remained open-minded and nimble when they Navigated toward their goals.

Resourcefulness:

Resourcefulness is about using the full resource of tools and other people to solve problems and reach goals. When the devastating EF-5 tornado ripped through downtown Joplin, Americans from near and far rushed to lend a helping hand. Thankfully, there was no shortage of compassion and generosity. The AmeriCorps displayed resourcefulness by allowing me to build an online database that tracked donations and matched them with survivors and their specific needs.

When our team didn’t place during Startup Weekend due to lacking a technical co-founder, I had to rely on resourcefulness to find a developer who was flexible enough to fulfill our requirements.

When we reached out to restaurants, many were willing to have us photograph their dishes, but didn’t want the food to go to waste. So we decided to photograph the food in conjunction with events and allow our guests to enjoy it. The events also served to promote the restaurants and we were able to capture amazing photography of attendees enjoying the ambiance and cuisine.

R also stands for Reflecting on what’s important in this journey and seeing how we can make improvements. Deb Santos taught me how to truly reflect — learning to invest in myself and showing self-compassion regardless of my mistakes.

R also stands for Researching. The secret sauce for RUNINOut was the behind-the-scenes research that we did for each restaurant to ensure that the user would get the best results possible.

Understanding:

The Irish Republican Army who sought a united Ireland clashed with the British forces resulting in massive death and destruction. When I visited Belfast, I met a tour guide named Arthur Magee who talked about building bridges. For peace to start and the troubles to end, both sides had to build bridges.

“If you come nigh you will see a city where on a micro level, people are building bridges. The most important bridge that is been built is in each and every single person here. That bridge is between who you actually are and how you see yourself. Whether you’re part of the problem, looking back and blaming other people, or whether you’re part of the solution and reaching out and seeing other human beings, as exactly that, human beings.”

From a business standpoint, one must fully understand the environment, the target market, and the competition in order to build a successful business. The diaspora community had done their research — that’s why they were able to build a leading PR firm, a luxury day spa chain, and a rose farm despite facing steep odds and many doubters that were skeptical that such business ideas could flourish in Ethiopia.

I applied these lessons when I worked with restaurants and bars. When I tried to sell our services to the Irish Channel, they were also receiving bids from other providers. In order to stand out from the competition, I studied the pub’s clientele and target market to determine which sports teams they could affiliate with and which social events we could host.

When the Lebanese Taverna requested to host a belly dancing event with Arabian folk music, I immediately did my research to familiarize myself with the art of belly dancing — I would then need to be resourceful to find the right talent and audience that would attract a strong turnout so we could host many more events and raise money for charity.

Over the years, we ended up working with several different groups and hosted a wide variety of events: running, comedy, political, food blogging — spanning a diverse group of bars and restaurants.

In the end, hosting tons of events took its toll, and I had to honestly look in the mirror and realize that the boozing had gone to extremes and I needed to start tapering off.

Negotiating:

Many restaurants were receptive to our services but did not have the resources or the inclination to pay for them. So we found a clever way to negotiate by having them host our events and provide free food and other amenities. We often got paid, but we were willing to barter web and social media assistance for food, eatups, and fundraisers.

Negotiating is something that I’ve always done my entire adult life. Throughout my entire Navy career, I never seemed to get what I wanted so I had to negotiate for just about everything of value. Successful negotiating requires understanding the other side’s priorities, open communication, and settling differences.

Innovating:

My search for a technical co-founder led me to take a Greyhound to Vancouver to find a web developer who could create our site in Drupal. And once the framework was built, I had to stay current in both Drupal and WordPress by regularly attending tech meetups.

Innovating meant building a menu prototype for Burma Restaurant and Vapiano’s so customers can decide on their orders while waiting in line.

When RUNINOut got rejected by the GW Business Plan Competition, I had to find ways to gain traction with users. It was imperative that we were able to expand our reach throughout the entire city with innovative methods. That meant deploying a used pedicab to market our brand and acquiring loyal followers who would vote for us for Best of D.C. We won the “Best Restaurant App” award in 2012 and 2013, and my alma mater agreed to let us present in the Business Plan Competition after all.

Navigating:

Some people struggle to make a decision. Some may be very simple like what to wear, others are very complex like finding a new job. Many times, we’ll end up regretting the decision that we make, but the worst decision is making no decision. No decision can be a decision, also, but the main thing is you need to take some action.

Navigating means making a decision to go one way and to stay on course despite experiencing choppy seas. It also means making course changes if the path is not the right one for you, even if it means making a drastic change.

I wouldn’t be where we are today if I never got into a scuffle with my GWU classmate causing me to transfer out of the Executive MBA program to the Professional MBA. With more freedom and flexibility, I was able to enroll in a New Ventures class where the idea of RUNINOut came to life.

After working tirelessly for over five years, It was clear that it was time to change course. Hosting events was time-consuming and tiring, and there was usually excessive drinking resulting in anxiety and depression.

It also became clear that we needed to branch out further from the DMV (D.C. – MD – VA).

How we would achieve that and what would the next step would be, was still undecided. But it was clear that it was time to take a radical, new direction.

Wherever we would be going, it would sure be a magical ride that the universe has specifically earmarked for us.

RUNIN Ragged…

* * *

June 13, 2022
Building Bridges

The next day, I hopped on a train to Northern Ireland to see Mark and Lee, my folklife fest friends who I had not seen since 2007. They took the entire day off from work to give me a grand tour of the Antrim Coast showcasing the scenic, untouched Northern Ireland coastline — one of the most beautiful in the world, and the Giant’s Causeway, a World Heritage Site, declared by the Irish as the 8th Wonder of the World.

Enjoying a meal with Mark and Lee in Northern Ireland

Mark and I created an impromptu limerick which we posted on Youtube.

Here we are in Giant’s Causeway

Where 40,000 columns of basalt rock stand today

The volcano erupted

The larva cooled

But before there was science

There was the Legend of Finn McCool

It is called the Giant’s Causeway

It was made by Finn McCool

It’s really just the start of a stepping stone tool

To get across to Scotland

To fight with Bennadonner

Through many disagreements

They pulled each other asunder

He took the cloth much

And try and try as he may

He never hit his target

But he made us our Loch Neagh

The mud landed in the water

And with all the might he can

He only then succeeded

In making the Isle of Man

So he took to playing the organ

And over here were his pipes

He played the Sash, Derry’s Walls, and Billyboys

But started loads of fights

Cuz’ the Scottish Giant thought they were his tunes

But little did he know

That the music for Highland bagpipes

Came from across there near Dunloe

We then visited Balintoy Harbour on the Antrim Coast, 13 kms away.

“Haven’t been back in 28 years. When I was nine years old, my family would come here for the summer holidays, and I would dive off these rocks, swim across this pool of water, climb up the natural stairway and dive again. Would do this all day long,” Mark reflected.

“When you return to the Capital City, please let all your friends and runners know how beautiful the Emerald Isle truly is,” Mark said. Then I gave him and Lee a big hug and wondered where in the world we would meet again.

I got to do a lot of quality sightseeing and made new friends who taught me a lot about the precious value of life and respecting other people. I learned about the sectarian conflict and how it is important to learn and understand each other.

Belfast is known for its troubles and religious conflict. For over 25 years, the IRA (Irish Republican Army) clashed with the Irish National Liberation Army. The Republicans carried out a guerrilla campaign against the British forces as well as bombing infrastructure and killing innocent civilians.

On Bloody Friday 1972, the IRA set off 22 bombs killing 9 people and injuring 120. When the bombs dropped, people did not know what to do. There were no bomb shelters. They did not know whether to run, hide or stay sheltered at home. The IRA hoped they would be just as successful in catching the government and the people unprepared in hopes of getting Northern Ireland out of the UK.

Truly, there was only one main pursuit: The Irish Republicans wanted a united Ireland. More than 3,500 people were killed of whom over half were civilians.

However, there was never such a state as a united Ireland. As an outsider looking in, I didn’t truly understand what the big deal was, other than the name and the unity. Just ten years ago the border was filled with concrete barriers, barbed wires and bombs. Today Northern Ireland and Ireland enjoy an open border where citizens could cross either side freely without having to produce a passport.

“I’m glad you took some time to research our history,” Mark said. “It was very important for the parties to understand our differences so that the IRA and the British government could properly negotiate.”

The last place I visited was the First Presbyterian Church where I met tour guide Arthur Magee.

Arthur Magee

“Belfast has been a by-word for the troubles, sectarian strife, and intolerance. If you come nigh you will see a city where on a micro level, people are building bridges. The most important bridge that is been built is in each and every single person here. That bridge is between who you actually are and how you see yourself. Whether you’re part of the problem, looking back and blaming other people, or whether you’re part of the solution and reaching out and seeing other human beings, as exactly that, human beings. We’re no different from any other place in this planet. We’re products of circumstances and history. And the same problems that exist in Belfast apply everywhere. Belfast isn’t a byword for intolerance, it’s a beacon for hope. It’s a place where people are reaching out and it shows the possibility of change. And it also shows the importance of each and single person to reach out, to build bridges and to see other people as exactly that, other people.”

This whole trip was more eye-opening than attending class at GWU, and definitely a lot more fun. No encyclopedia, no ebook reader, no youtube video could teach me life’s social skills better than what I learned in Barcelona, Normandy, or Belfast.

I only had one final day in London when I returned from Belfast. In life, nothing rarely happens the way you intended it to. It’s important to be flexible, fluid and understanding. Sometimes life brings you pleasant surprises — it’s not scripted or orchestrated, but just right. Life can be charming, like that, if you let it. In the long run, we will appreciate the fact that we were flexible and cherish the tender times that we were able to spend together.

The dinner with Kim and my nieces was wholesome and filling. I did not know it was even possible to make spaghetti so delicious. The meal, in fact, was just as good as Rio’s Japanese Tonkatsu curry she cooked for us the night I left for Northern Ireland. This is also the very first time I’ve spent time with Kim, Kae, Rio, and Rintaro all at the same time, under one roof. So it’s a very special moment to be thankful and cherish especially when we let life’s circumstances take the lead.

We had a wonderful time, talking, laughing, and just enjoying a simple and pleasant meal with friends and loved ones. Nothing special, though it meant the entire world to me.

After dinner, we all went to Notting Hill to visit Rio as she was painting her clothing store. Notting Hill is a fabulous, affluent, fashionable community with beautiful Victorian homes and attractive storefronts. It is a very artsy place that reminds me of Chelsea, NYC, and Georgetown, D.C.

The last 12 months have been momentous for Kim since this is the first time that she has seen Mom, my older sister, Pearl, and me, within the same calendar year, since we immigrated to the US in ’79 (Mom in Japan at my grandmother’s funeral, Pearl in Hong Kong and now home in London). This was no coincidence, and it was a precious moment to forever embrace.

Luck was recurrent through the course of the trip since the idea was born during a routine run on the Mall. I boarded a Space-A flight from Joint Base Andrews at the very last minute and every moment after that was entirely spontaneous.

It was serendipitous that I met Marcy and fortuitous to reunite with my folklife friends Mark and Lee. And I wanted nothing more than to re-create this experience for Americans back home. And on the MAC (Military Airlift Command) flight from Ramstein AFB back to Andrews, I had plenty of time to contemplate and plan my next big project. I was looking forward to coming home and reuniting with my pet parrot, Apollo and my pit bull, Georgia. Both were in good hands with my housemate, Kanita Williams. I knew that fate would lead her to become a lot more than just a typical roommate.

June 3, 2022
Apollo’s Flight

DC is a town full of festivals, and there’s no better time to celebrate festivals than in the summer. I had the perfect companion to attend my annual Folklife Festival, Capital Pride and Fiesta Asia. Apollo loved everyone and sang in front of Embassies and he was the character. I should have put Apollo as the star.

On May 20, 2013, I took Apollo on a run again at the National Mall. Apollo took flight as he often does, but this time, he went higher and further than ever before. Oh my goodness, I conveyed an expression of blunder. I had gotten so careless that I had forgotten to trim his wings, and suddenly high above the Mulberry trees along the scenic mall, Apollo found freedom.

I looked everywhere for Apollo, even bringing along his cage, his Bonka Bird toy, rattling in the wind. I scattered sunflower seeds and peanuts everywhere and had to fight off the squirrels who had a field day. Sadly, he was nowhere to be found. Like a menacing tween, he had skipped school, and he was not yet ready to reunite with his distressed patriarch. The massive magnolias along the miles-long cinder path served as an ideal refuge for him and the Capitol dome and the Monument obelisk served as his landmarks.

“Apollo, Come home to Papa!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. As sunset beckoned, I came to the sad conclusion that my wails were been drowned by the hustle and bustle of the young people and tourists mingling on the grassy fields.

Soon the sun was shadowed by the majestic, iron dome of the Capitol, and I would have to return the next day to make my unwavering attempt. At daybreak, when the sun’s rays bathed the Lincoln Memorial in golden sunlight, I was roving up and down the grassy turf searching for my wanderlust feathered friend. I played a scratchy recording of his chirping. It sounded promising, but after a while the raspy screams only commingled with the purrs from the cormorants and the buzz from the sparrows.

GW University just so happened to be hosting their commencement ceremony at noon, so soon there would be several hundred black robes and caps with excited families scurrying all over the mall.

If I couldn’t physically search, I would leverage social media. My Facebook posting gained some traction and a friend of mine mentioned that a student graduating from GWU saw Apollo hanging out on top of a standing fan, just screaming away. So she called the Washington Humane Society who readily captured him.

Picture taken by GWU student of Apollo at the graduation.

I immediately called them and was overjoyed when I found out that they had poor Apollo in safe keeping.

Apollo was home now, and he would join me on more runs and escapades throughout D.C.. But this time, I would make sure his flight feathers are well manicured and his favorite Bonga Bird toy is within arm’s reach.

* * *

June 2, 2022
The Tower

I enrolled in the Executive MBA program, and before the semester started, our cohort of 20 eager students embarked on a five-day retreat at the Homestead Resort in Hot Springs, VA.

Our team coaching sessions led by Professor James Bailey didn’t require PowerPoint or pointers but still had everything to do with leadership development — You can’t create a leader in a classroom.

After spending two days engaged in team-building exercises and thought-provoking discussions, we were ready to get some fresh air. The next morning, we hiked down the Allegheny Mountain gorge trail, through the thick forest, past the lovely cascade falls until we arrived in the middle of a grassy field with a gigantic wall affectionately known as the Tower. At first glance, the 40-foot Tower seemed daunting and insurmountable.

Throughout life, we face many obstacles both personal and professional. The key to responding to these roadblocks is to face them head-on and to rely on the support from others around you. This is teamwork — being supported and supporting each other. To work as a team, it’s imperative to understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses, both physically and mentally. The better we know one another, the better we’re able to assist each other.

The Ropes Course is a metaphor for problem-solving — it challenges us to face our fears and climb on. The higher you climb, the more you rely on your team for support.

The first task was to have each person assist their team members in donning their harnesses — the one crucial piece of equipment for our safety and protection.

Then each team ascended in tandem facing the challenge of not having enough steps for all three to ascend at the same time. Sometimes a climber would have to take a step down in order for another climber to proceed. That was ok, as long as they all reached their final destination together.

Meanwhile, the rope handlers kept a close eye on the climbers, coaching them on where to place their hands and feet and providing support and encouragement so that the 3-member team could ascend up to the top together and then back down.

When it was my turn to go, I knew I could rely on my teammates Senodja Walker and Amir Moore.

Rope team:

“Senodja, place the right hand on the block and your left foot on the step.”

“Amir, move your right foot off the step and place it on the block so that Senodja can place her foot on it.”

As the climbers moved up the wall and then back down, the Belay teams were tasked to remove the slack by paying out or pulling in the excess line. They kept a close eye and a taut line, but they were not allowed to pull the crew up the wall — the climbers had to figure this out on their own.

Climbers: “Slack!” (pay out a little rope.)

Belayers: pays out the rope and pauses to see if climbers ask again.

Climbers: “Up rope.” (pull in rope slack.)

Belayers: pulls in rope and pause to see if climbers ask again.

Senodja Walker

Eventually, all of us made it over the wall and back down, taking one step at a time. The journey in life is rarely simplistic and straightforward. If we keep striving, we will eventually reach our goals, even if we have to climb over life’s challenges, obstacles, and setbacks.

The EMBA class was broken down into five groups of four and we would remain in our group for the entire two years. One of the first projects that we worked on was the Airline Pilots Association. ALPA, with 53,000 members and 40 airlines in the U.S. and Canada, is the largest airline labor union in the world.

We were having a conference call on skype when I touted the fact that airlines such as Jet Blue and Delta have successfully used Twitter and Facebook to promote their products and to provide updates on weather and flight cancellations.

“I’ve had it with you. Your solution to everything is always social media!” Eli my classmates exclaimed.

This wasn’t the first time he had said that and we always seemed to butt heads over the value of social media for building brand awareness and winning new customers.

I immediately slammed the phone down and ended the conference call.

The next thing I did was call Senodja on the phone. “I can’t work with Eli any longer — he’s so unaccepting of social media. I’m here to learn and broaden my horizon, not to clash heads.”

“Wish you could join my team, but we’re already maxed out.”

“Then maybe I should try to understand his point of view better and discuss our differences.”

“Or perhaps you could transfer out of the EMBA and enroll in the Professional MBA program — it may take a little longer to complete but you have a choice of a wide selection of classes and work with a diverse myriad of people.”

June 1, 2022
O Canada!

I checked into the HI Vancouver Hostel and started searching for a Drupal developer who would be willing to take on my project at a reasonable cost.

Then she walked in. I tried hard to keep my eyes on my screen and not at the soft, velvet flesh of her long, graceful legs. As she crossed the lobby of the hostel, she paused briefly and turned slightly. That’s when she caught me looking.

She had sandy blonde hair, that fell to the middle of her back. Her eyes were green like emeralds that sparkled under the moonlight in the windswept Georgia Strait that separated Vancouver Island from British Columbia.

I forced myself to focus on my work, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes off her luscious curves. And I sat frozen as she gently approached, quickly trying to formulate a one-liner.

“Love your feet,” she said softly.

I didn’t bother to look down. I knew what my feet looked like. They were dry, calloused, and much neglected.

Hers were sleek and graceful and appeared to sparkle under her soft, Bohemian dress.

“Your feet, the ones on your computer,” she explained.

“Oh, those.” I blushed lightly, my eyes smiled back. As she drew nearer, I could see her taut, smooth skin stretched tightly over her sculptured rouge cheeks.

“Oh, they’re my Five Fingers,” as I explained that I am a huge fan of the Vibrams Five Fingers running shoes and being an avid brand promoter, I had stuck a pair of their running shoe decals on the top of my laptop.

“Oh, are you a runner?” She already knew the answer to this question.

“Yup, Luv it more than anything.”

“I’m not much of a runner, but I do like biking.”

“Me too, in fact, I bought my bike to Vancouver from Washington, DC.”

“Well then, perhaps we can go biking sometime. I’m pretty familiar with all the bike trails in the area. Lived here nearly my entire life”

“And I’m brand new to this city, so would love a personalized tour.”

“Well, I’m not available tonight, but perhaps tomorrow night. My name is Naomi, but friends call me Pony. Here’s my contact, in case you’re available.”

Wow, I knew Canadian women loved the outdoors, but are they always this aggressive?

The next day, we met at the hostel and rode our bikes toward Stanley Park. We were first met by a statue of Lord Stanley, the former Governor-General of Canada, standing with open arms and decorated with a Vancouver Canucks sweater. Then we proceeded towards the rainforest trails and marveled at the 100-year-old trees. At the north side, we stopped to admire the Girl in a Wetsuit statue decked with a Canucks jersey.

Girl in a Wetsuit statue

Next, we cycled the seawall trail around the Lost Lagoon offering pristine views of the mountains juxtaposed with the downtown skyline.

Turtles were basking in the sun, Blue Herons standing motionless in the water, waiting for a fish or frog to emerge.

The trail was rather flat and we rested at Second Beach where we dipped our feet in the water while Naomi shared her passion for yachting and how Vancouver serves as a remarkable outdoor playground.

“There’s a reason why they call Vancouver the Most Livable City,” I said.

“But lately, our reputation has been tarnished by the riots.”

“I heard that the city was stunned when the Canucks lost to the Boston Bruins in game 7 of the Stanley Cup.”

“The Canucks had never won a Stanley Cup, they had already claimed it as theirs for the taking,” she said.

“Yes, they had the league’s best record, scored more goals than any other team, and allowed the fewest,”

“No Canadian team has won the Stanley Cup in 18 years. We felt robbed since the US dominates in the mighty triad of football, basketball, and baseball, and Canadians love their ice hockey,” she said.

Fans set fire to vehicles, smashed windows, and looted stores – it was a big black eye to Vancouver’s moniker as the ‘Most Livable City.’

“I joined the clean-up and food vibe movement. Real Canuck fans are not hooligans.”

The next day, Naomi and I visited Gastown, the site of the previous riots in 1971. We attended the Fête de la Musique event filled with local musicians from baroque to rock.

Naomi and friend dancing in Gastown

We then visited the Cambie Pub, an unpretentious bar that’s been open since 1897. The place reeked of grunginess, but the vibe was amazing. The pub was a walk in time and there were many interesting characters there. Backpackers and tourists who were staying at the hostel upstairs walking through. No fancy cocktails here. Just shots, vodka sodas, gin and tonics and cheap pitchers of beer.

The Pub was only a stone’s throw away from Blood Alley and Water Street passing trendy furniture and clothing shops next to chronic meth and crackheads hanging out by the street art.

We stopped in front of the Steam Clock which was really half powered by electricity. It was a great visit with a lot of sights, sounds and ambience.

Naomi and I on Blood Alley, Gastown

“You need to add Vancouver to your website,” Naomi stated.

“If I can find someone to build it, I certainly will,” I responded.

“Super, please keep me posted. I’ll walk you back to the hostel.”

The following day, I set up a meeting with Gregg Coppen of North Studio at their downtown office.

“I want customers in Vancouver to be able to tell us their favorite dishes so that when they travel to San Diego or Washington, DC, we can make customized recommendations.”

“Food is a very appealing content. A content management system like Drupal should help you best store, organize and display it,” said Gregg.

“How do we categorize each dish?”

“By using the taxonomy module. You can define your vocabulary such as ‘pasta’ and then add terms to each vocabulary such as ‘fettuccine, spaghetti, penne, lasagna’.”

“Can we break it down even further?”

“Sure, for spaghetti we can create new terms ‘angel hair, bucatini, fusilli, etc. You can go as deep as you want.”

“And we can do the same for restaurants and stores?”

“Sure ‘fine dining, fast-casual, family-style, cafe, buffet, contemporary casual, bistro, etc.’”

“And then break it down even further by cuisine, whether it’s romantic, is good for sports lovers, have a view, etc.”

“Yes, and under sports pub, we can describe their favorite teams. You wouldn’t find a Canucks fan at Boston Bruins bar, or vice versa.”

“How would customers be able to search and find the right content?”

“By incorporating Apache Solr for the faceted search. Like when you’re shopping for a type of shoe on Zappos, you can narrow down by brand, size, color, the whole nine yards.”

“Wow, this is a complex project, and I can’t wait to get started. I knew that coming to Vancouver was a great idea. But as a fledgling startup, I’m on a shoestring budget. What is the best price you can offer me?”

“Lemme discuss with the office and get back to you soon.”

The rest of the team from North Studio loved my idea but responded that the total cost would surpass $30,000.

“That’s too much. I’m a struggling MBA student. Can we do it for 15K?”

When I was riding the Greyhound bus back to DC, I got a call from North Studio that they had accepted my offer. They were impressed by my passion and wanted to build something of value that could be used coast-to-coast. To offset the costs, we would work together in building the site, and I would be solely responsible for adding the content. I definitely couldn’t find these rates in DC or any major metropolitan city.

That’s why I had to travel 4,000 miles and back to find a well-rounded team who understood the intricacies of food, how to categorize it, and display this information on a mesmerizing, visually appealing site.

May 29, 2022