Sarasota Magazine

Friday, January 29, 2010

About That Festival Funding

A compromise for Ringling Festival.

By Charlie Huisking

A creative compromise has helped allay the concerns local arts leaders had about the funding for the Ringling International Arts Festival. But some wariness remains.

Earlier this week, the Sarasota County Commission passed a resolution allocating $250,000 to the second annual festival in October. Half the money is coming from a $1 million Tourist Tax arts fund surplus, with the rest from a Sarasota Convention and Visitors Bureau promotional fund.

The first festival, a partnership between the Ringling Museum of Art and the Baryshnikov Arts Center in New York, brought in dancers, actors and musicians from around the world. The festival was a huge success, with 90 percent of the available 12,000 tickets sold. The event generated a large amount of international publicity for Sarasota, including a big spread in the magazine Time Out London.

Originally, the festival was planned as a biennial event. However, because it was so popular, organizers decided to bring it back in 2010. Former state Sen. John McKay, the event’s principal backer, asked local governments in Sarasota and Manatee to contribute a total of $700,000 to the budget. He requested $250,000 from the Tourist Tax arts surplus.

But that didn’t sit well with the arts community, since the arts fund surplus (which resulted from a change in accounting procedures for the Tourist Tax program) was supposed to be reserved for a festival or other projects that would promote local arts groups, not visiting arts troupes.

“In difficult economic times like this, when every arts organization is feeling strained, and we need any help we can get, it is hard to see a piece of the funding used for something else,” Victor DeRenzi, Sarasota Opera’s artistic director, said when the issue first came up.

A steering committee, appointed by the county to help determine how the $1 million should be spent, initially deadlocked 4-4 on the Ringling Festival request. Members representing the tourism industry voted yes, while those with ties to the arts community voted no.

Committee member Bruce Rodgers, executive director o f the Hermitage Artist Retreat, told McKay that he appreciated his passion and enthusiasm for the festival. But Rodgers said he was bothered that the festival hadn’t supplied the committee with extensive budget information. He noted that the local arts groups who apply for Tourist Tax money have to go through an extensive grant application process.

“You’re not going through the process we all do when we ask for taxpayer money,” Rodgers said. “You’re asking us it to give it to the [Ringling Museum] just by saying that it’s a good idea.”

Rodgers proposed a compromise: that only $125,000 come from the Tourist Tax fund, with the other half coming from the county’s general fund. Rodgers also recommended that the funding be approved only after festival organizers provide extensive budget documentation, as well as a plan to reduce the festival’s reliance on government support. Rodgers also suggested that the festival get a commitment from the Baryshnikov Center for its long-term interest in the event.

The Rodgers compromise was basically the plan approved by the County Commission this week, except that $125,000 will now come from the CVB promotional fund rather than the county’s general fund, thanks to an offer from CVB head Virginia Haley..

The county’s resolution also urged the festival to involve local arts organizations in the event as much as possible. That may be difficult with the festival scheduled for October, when most local arts groups haven’t begun their seasons.

At the steering committee meeting, Gretchen Serrie, the former executive director of the Sarasota Orchestra, asked McKay if Mikhail Baryshnikov was open to changing the date of the next festival to April 2011, to give local arts groups more time to play a meaningful role.

McKay bridled at that suggestion, saying, “I’m not about to tell the greatest dancer of the 20^th century what he can and cannot do.” But later he said a shift to another time of the year might be possible for future festivals.

McKay has high hopes for the event, saying it could become “the greatest arts festival in the world, and certainly in the United States.” He compares its potential to that of Spoleto, the renowned arts festival in Charleston.

I hear that some festival backers have complained privately that the arts officials who have raised questions are nay-sayers who don’t see the big picture. Some arts leaders, on the other hand, feel festival organizers were arrogant and condescending

Most arts leaders I’ve talked to wish the festival well. But they want to remind government and tourism leaders that it’s the local organizations that make Sarasota the culturally vital year-round destination that it is.

Midnight Train to the Van Wezel

I’m not sure if the Pips are coming, but legendary soul singer Gladys Knight will be the headliner for the Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall’s ninth annual gala on Feb. 14. Gala tickets ($275 and $500) will include a cocktail party and silent auction, a catered dinner in the Grand Foyer by Michael’s on East, preferred seating for the concert, and a Tribute to Motown after-party. Proceeds from the event will benefit the hall’s educational programs.

Known as the Empress of Soul, Knight led one of the most successful groups in R&B history. Look for her to sing such hits as “Midnight Train to Georgia,” “I Heard it Through the Grapevine” and “Neither One of Us.” For tickets and more information, call the Van Wezel’s Jennifer Wilson, 366-5011.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Lights, Camera, Action

Big news in digital film at Ringling College of Art and Design.

By Charlie Huisking

The computer animation department at the Ringling College of Art and Design is justifiably famous. Its graduates have gone on to work for Disney, Pixar and other animation powerhouses, on projects ranging from Shrek and Up to The Princess and the Frog.

Until last week, however, fewer people were aware that Ringling also has a digital filmmaking department, which trains students who want to make movies with living, breathing human beings in them.

But on Thursday, that program took a metaphorical walk down the red carpet, as director Werner Herzog helped Ringling inaugurate its digital filmmaking studio lab with plenty of fanfare.

An internationally respected film icon whose credits include the drama Fitzcarraldo and the haunting documentary Grizzly Man, Herzog was the first of many directors, screenwriters, producers and actors who will be sharing their insights with Ringling students in the lab environment.

“Our students will have the opportunity to work with the best and the brightest in the industry,” Ringling president Larry Thompson told a gathering of journalists and college supporters.

Several industry guests will be on campus each semester for varying time periods. Eventually, Ringling hopes to construct sound stages that would be used for student productions and that would be available to professional filmmakers shooting on location in Sarasota.

“The potential benefits of these ongoing creative relationships for our Ringling College students and the greater Sarasota area are vast,” Thompson said.

In an earlier interview, Thompson said the three-year-old digital filmmaking major is still in its “gestation period,” with only 28 students taking such courses as directing, screenwriting and editing. “But we want to make it a pre-eminent program, just as computer animation and graphic design and illustration are,” Thompson said. “The creation of the lab is a major step in that direction.”

Department head Bradley Battersby said he expects enrollment in digital filmmaking to triple in the next three years. He said the program will emphasize the storytelling aspect of filmmaking, and that it will “push the boundaries of cinema.”

“We don’t want to just do things the same old Hollywood way, “ Battersby added. And referring to two of America’s top film schools, he said Ringling “doesn’t intend to be a second-rate New York University or a second-rate University of Southern California. We want to be a first-rate Ringling College, and to be a program that is unique.”

Herzog, an independent spirit known for his uncompromising vision, was the perfect filmmaker to help inaugurate such a program. “I can talk to students about how to work outside the system, how to survive in the wilderness and be self-reliant,” he said. “Because when you graduate, 20^th Century Fox is not going to be at your doorstep, ready to offer you the next romantic comedy. You have to learn how to take your fate into your own hands, how to make a film for a minimal budget.”

Herzog spent two days on campus with the students. Thompson said that after one three-hour session, “The students didn’t want to leave. They swarmed around him like bees to honey. They couldn’t get enough information from him. That’s exactly the kind of environment we want to create here.”

Noting that he made three films and wrote a book last year, Herzog said his plate is too full for him to be a regular presence at Ringling. “But I would like to come back, and to be of assistance in any way I can,” he said.

“If I can contribute some sort of wild spirit to this program, that would be great.”

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

My Weekend in St. Pete

An early hello to the new Dali Museum in St. Petersburg.

By Charlie Huisking

It was too cold to display a melting watch. So instead, a huge hourglass was unveiled in St. Petersburg this week, marking the one-year countdown to the opening of a striking new home for the Dali Museum.

Dedicated to the surrealist works of Salvador Dali, the 66,000-square-foot concrete and glass structure is rising in a prime spot on the St. Petersburg waterfront, adjacent to the Mahaffey Theater. The three-story building is more than twice the size of the current Dali museum, which lies a few blocks to the south and contains the largest collection of Dali works outside of his native Spain.

The "Enigma" glass structure of the new Dali.

Museum director Hank Hine welcomed a host of St. Petersburg business, arts and governmental leaders to the ceremony on Monday. Hine said the new structure will provide the space to properly display the Dali collection, and will become a center “for the exploration of creative vision in general, a place where innovative practices in all fields can be examined.”

Dali Museum director Hank Hine.

Mayor Bill Foster said the new museum will “change the landscape of our waterfront” and make St. Petersburg the “cultural and arts hub of the Southeast.”

The $35 million project is being funded by private donations and allocations from the federal, state and local government. Hine said $7 million must still be raised. The museum is scheduled to open on Jan. 11, 2011, with the King of Spain attending the ceremonies.

“We don’t want to have to buy the king another plane ticket, so we’re going to stay on schedule,” quipped Mark House, managing director of the Beck Group, the construction company in charge of the cutting-edge project, which he said benefits from the latest developments in digital technology.

The building’s most eye-catching feature is a geodesic exterior bubble made up of 635 pieces of individually sized pieces of glass. Architect Yann Weymouth of Tampa’s HOK firm described it as “the enigma,” and said it was inspired by the geodesic domes of Buckminster Fuller, who was a good friend of Dali’s.

Museum architect Yann Weymouth.

“Dali was interested in geometry and physics and mathematics, and in the work of scientists,” said Weymouth, who worked with I.M. Pei on the expansion of the Louvre and also designed several new buildings for the Ringling Museum of Art. “Buckminster Fuller was a hero to Dali, so this feature seemed to make sense on a lot of levels.”

Hine and Weymouth, who termed the building’s style “abstract surrealism,” led a group of journalists on a morning tour of the construction site. The first floor will contain a reception center, an extensive museum store, an orientation theater, a community room and a café with indoor and outdoor seating. From there visitors can take elevators or a spiral staircase designed to resemble a strand of DNA.

The second floor will contain administrative offices and a research library, while the third floor will house the permanent collection (which numbers 2,400 pieces, including 94 oil paintings) and a wing for temporary exhibitions. Several of the most important paintings will be displayed under small skylights.

“Dali’s works were created in daylight, and when I visited his studio in Spain, I could see that it was filled with light,” Weymouth said. “These chapels of light that we’re creating will bathe the paintings in a glow; they’ll really pull you in.”

Light also plays against the glass and steel of the third-floor atrium, which narrows to resemble the prow of a ship and offers visitors spectacular views of sailboats bobbing in Tampa Bay.

Hine said the main impetus for building the new structure was the fear that the Dali works could be damaged in the present building should a major hurricane strike. The new museum has 18-inch-thick concrete walls, and is built to withstand a Category 5 storm.

The Dali museum currently welcomes about 200,000 annual visitors from around the world, including 10,000 students. Hine expects attendance to double in the new space, which will likely inspire as much conversation and debate as the controversial artist’s works do.

The innovative structure and the provocative artist are a perfect match, said Weymouth, who noted that Dali “lived large in the present, but was the artist of the future.”

By the way, my base during my exploration of the Dali’s new home was a longtime St. Petersburg landmark, the Renaissance Vinoy Resort and Golf Club. Located only a 10-minute walk from the new museum, the elegant Vinoy will likely be playing host to many art-loving tourists from around the world. I love the hotel’s mix of old-world charm and contemporary luxury. My favorite activity is sitting in the wicker chairs on the hotel’s sweeping verandah and staring at the waterfront.

Right now, the Vinoy’s restaurant, Marchand’s Bar and Grill, is offering a special “classic dining” menu for $19.25. The price reflects the year the hotel opened, in the middle of the Florida land boom.

The menu for the three-course meal changes monthly, but I could choose from Coq au Vin, Braised Veal Pot Roast and Grilled Atlantic Salmon over creamed leeks. The special is available from 5:30 to 7 p.m. only. But that’s OK, because I read in The New York Times this week that in this economy, early bird dining is now trendy for all ages.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Perlman Program Power

Classical sounds of the season.

By Charlie Huisking

Talented music students from around the world are once again making a joyful noise in Sarasota this holiday season.

The sixth winter residency of the Perlman Music Program runs from Dec. 20-31 on the campus of the University of South Florida Sarasota-Manatee. Thirty-five students, aged 14-20 and coming from as far away as Moscow , will work closely with a distinguished faculty that includes renowned violinist Itzhak Perlman.

Much of the instruction will take place in small practice rooms. But at least once a day, the public is invited to watch orchestra and choral rehearsals and recitals of works-in-progress under a 1,000-seat, climate-controlled tent.

Free tickets have already been distributed for these sessions, but some seating is expected to be available at most sessions, and walk-up audiences are encouraged.

The Sarasota residency is an offshoot of a two-week summer program established in New York in 1993 by Perlman’s wife, Toby, a Juilliard-trained violinist and music educator. She wanted to create a nurturing environment free of the pressure-cooker intensity that characterizes many training programs.

“We create an atmosphere of trust, where the students are free to decide to be the best they can be,” she said in an interview at USF. “I don’t believe in berating a kid if he isn’t getting something. These kids are so committed, so hard-working, that if they aren’t getting a passage right, it is most likely the teacher’s fault. Something went wrong in the lesson.”

Program leader Toby Perlman.

For the first time, this year’s roster includes a Sarasota student, Pine View senior Theo Breen, a double bass player. “He is a terrific kid, and he’s very interested in music history, more so than any student we’ve had,” Perlman said. “He loves to look up facts about the pieces we’re playing, and in our summer session, he enjoyed serving as the announcer at the rehearsals, sharing information with the audiences.”

The Sarasota residency started under the umbrella of the Sarasota Orchestra, but is now administered by a stand-alone nonprofit organization, Perlman Music Program/Suncoast. Even in these challenging economic times, the organization has been remarkably successful in generating support. This year’s $500,000 budget goal has already been met.

“We couldn’t be happier with the way this residency is run,” said Perlman, a vivacious dynamo who was wearing a “Pack Leader” sweatshirt that a friend had given her. “USF has been so hospitable and generous, and the people at the Hilton Garden Inn [where the students stay] couldn’t be nicer.”

Perlman also appreciates the enthusiasm of the audiences who fill the tent night after night. “I think they have come to enjoy watching these students grow up, and grow musically. Sometimes there can be dramatic changes that occur quickly, when something will just click. I think audiences like observing that. It’s very exciting.”

The program will close at 5 p.m. Jan. 2 with a major fund-raising event, a Celebration Concert at the Sarasota Opera House. Tickets range from $35-$75. The concert will be followed by a gala dinner. Concert and gala combination tickets are $500. For more information, call 366-8450, ext. 1, or 955-4942. For online ticket orders, and for a complete list of rehearsals and other events, access www.perlmanmusicprogramsuncoast.org.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Giselle Live

Live music for Giselle and other Sarasota arts news.

By Charlie Huisking

Much of the buzz surrounding the upcoming Sarasota Ballet production of Giselle has centered on the prestigious guest artists. Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg, internationally known stars of London’s Royal Ballet, will alternate the lead roles with Sarasota Ballet’s Victoria Hulland and Octavio Martin.

But Giselle is exciting for another reason. The production, which opens Nov. 27 at the Sarasota Opera House, will be performed with a live orchestra—a rare occurrence in these budget-strapped times. Leading the orchestra of local musicians will be Emil DeCou, the associate conductor of the National Symphony in Washington, D.C., and a man with extensive ballet experience.

Emil DeCou studies the score at a rehearsal for Giselle.

DeCou’s first conducting job was with the American Ballet Theatre, after he got the nod from Mikhail Baryshnikov. He later became the music director of the San Francisco Ballet.

At a recent Giselle rehearsal, the dancers did a run-through to taped music. But DeCou was at the edge of the floor, watching the dancers intently and occasionally making notes in the score.

“Ballet is the most spontaneous of art forms,” he says. “It can be different each time, depending on the dancers’ bodies and the energy they are bringing. In rehearsals, I could see occasions when a dancer might need more time at the end of a phrase, and I was making notes to reflect that.”

DeCou says dancers need to feel free, “And they can really be free only if they have a collaborator in the pit allowing them to be free, helping them to solve a momentary difficulty so the audience will never know. That freedom is so essential to ballet, that when things are really going well, it feels as if the music is coming from the dancers themselves.”

DeCou, who has conducted the Sarasota Orchestra in a concert of film music at Van Wezel, notes that Giselle is the oldest continuously danced production in the ballet repertory.

“It is a very delicate piece, reflecting the magic and wonder of the woods,” he says. “Sometimes, with recorded music, it can sound like a plastic knock-off. And these Sarasota Ballet dancers deserve better than that. I was so impressed with their high level of performance, even in the early rehearsals. They could dance on any stage in the world.”

For ticket information, call 359-0099, ext. 102, or go to sarasotaballet.org.

Sour note

The management of the Sarasota Orchestra may have been within its rights to stop a concert/informational meeting that its musicians had scheduled at a local church earlier this month.

But by threatening to sue the musicians personally if the concert was held, management has suffered a public-relations blow, and has added to the sympathy the musicians have enjoyed during the protracted labor dispute.

Even though they didn’t play, the musicians held the informational meeting anyway, and more than 200 showed up to listen. Noted in the audience was Victor DeRenzi, artistic director of the Sarasota Opera. DeRenzi worked closely with the musicians when they performed in the recent production of La traviata.

Was his presence at the meeting a sign of solidarity with their cause? DeRenzi was noncommittal. “I went there expecting to hear a concert,” he said, smiling.

A Film Festival hit

The opening night film for last year’s Sarasota Film Festival was a brave choice. The Messenger starred Woody Harrelson and Ben Foster as soldiers who inform family members that their loved ones have died in Afghanistan or Iraq. The movie was warmly received here, and now it’s getting rave reviews after its nationwide release this month.

The New York Times called it a “sober and satisfying drama” that is “remarkably textured, with room for humor as well as anguish.” The New Yorker called it “a fully felt, morally alert, marvelously acted piece of work.” It’s nice to think that the Sarasota festival helped pave the way for the national attention this film deserved.

Asolo Rep news

Real-life husband and wife Sam Osheroff and Kris Danford will play the ultimate married couple in Searching for Eden: The Diaries of Adam and Eve. Based on writings by Mark Twain, the play opens Dec. 18 at the Asolo Rep. Osheroff and Danford are familiar to local audiences, as they met while they were students at the FSU/Asolo Conservatory.

More tidbits I learned at the Asolo’s town hall meeting this month: Choreographer Jim Hoskins, who will work on three shows this season, has been involved with 75 productions during his long association with the Asolo Rep. And speaking of long associations, Marian Wallace will retire as production stage manager at the end of the year, her 41^st with the company. Can the Asolo really exist without Marian? I’m not sure, but she says it’s time “to let someone else share in the fun.”

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

A Theatrical Grand Tour

A show biz junkie’s dream trip to Manhattan—and I make my Broadway debut!

I’m just back from a theater trip to the Northeast, during which I made my first appearance on a Broadway stage, and attended a star-studded gala at the renowned Westport Country Playhouse in Connecticut.

More about my Broadway “debut” later. But the highlight of my trip was the evening at the Westport playhouse. Productions at this 80-year-old theater have featured such distinguished actors as Julie Harris, Helen Hayes, Henry Fonda and Paul Newman, whose widow, Joanne Woodward, is a former artistic director and current board member.

Joanne Woodward, center, with Westport staff members.

After a $30-million renovation, the old barn that once housed the theater has been transformed into a modern but still country-cozy facility that presents challenging and uplifting works throughout the year.

My second cousin, Beth Huisking, is the patron services manager at the theater, and she invited me to attend the gala, which celebrated the music of Richard Rodgers. Tony nominee Kelli O’Hara, who plays Nellie Forbush in the current Lincoln Center revival of “South Pacific,” thrilled the sold-out audience by singing numbers from the show, and from “The King and I.” Another Lincoln Center cast member, Loretta Ables Sayre (Bloody Mary), sang “Bali Hai,” and a handful of the show’s strapping sailors performed “Nothing Like a Dame.”

The honored guest of the evening was composer and screenwriter Mary Rodgers Guettel, the daughter of Richard Rodgers. She was an apprentice at the theater in 1950. One of her fellow apprentices that year, composer Stephen Sondheim, took the stage to pay tribute. “I’m as old as this theater, but not as well refurbished,” Sondheim quipped. Rodgers said she met Sondheim when she was only 14. “He was the smartest person I’d ever met, and he still is,” Rodgers said.

Another performer at the gala was Karen Ziemba, who won a Tony for the original production of “Contact.” At the party afterward, I told the charming actress that the Asolo was presenting “Contact” with the Sarasota Ballet. “I know,” she told me. “I spoke to the board last week.” And then I remembered Ziemba had met with Asolo supporters on an Asolo Rep Adventures tour to New York.

Karen Ziemba and me.

The Sarasota connections were numerous that evening. The theater’s managing director, Michael Ross, is a friend and former colleague of Greg Leaming, the director of the FSU/Asolo Conservatory. And I helped promote one of the silent auction items, a month in the Siesta Key condo owned by Westport board president Sandra DeFeo and her husband, Neil.

"Hair"

The next day I took the train to New York to catch “Hair,” which won the Tony for Best Revival of a Musical this year. Since I’m old enough to have bought the original cast album in 1968 (in fact, I still have it), I was predisposed to love this show, and I did. It was probably the most heartfelt and exuberant musical I’ve ever seen, and its anti-war theme is still potent. All the members of the “tribe” were terrific, but Will Swenson , as charismatic tribe leader Berger, and Gavin Creel as the gentle, Vietnam-bound Claude, were riveting. I was so excited that I jumped up on stage when the cast invited the audience up to join them in the finale, "Let the Sunshine In."

Here I am in "Hair," my first time on a Broadway stage.

Posing with Hair's Gavin Creel

Here are some thumbnail reviews of other shows I saw:

“Hamlet”— Some critics have knocked Jude Law as being overwrought and angry rather than introspective in this production, which was imported from London after a successful run there. But I found his energetic, intense portrayal mesmerizing. I had more trouble with some of the supporting cast. But the three hours flew by. If it takes a movie star to get Broadway audiences excited about Shakespeare, I’m glad it was a classically trained star who had the chops to pull this off.

“God of Carnage” -- Sounds of the jungle are heard when the curtain rises on Yasmina Reza’s riotous comedy. In a swanky New York apartment, two couples meet to calmly resolve a playground dispute involving their children. But the civilized veneer is quickly stripped away, and you get to see “really good actors behaving terribly,” as a New York Times reviewer said. Marcia Gay Harden, James Gandolfini, Hope Davis and Jeff Daniels go at one another with gusto, though Gandolfini doesn’t quite make you forget about his Tony Soprano persona.

James Gandolfini signs autographs outside of God of Carnage.

“Next to Normal”—A musical about mental illness? Yes, and a thrilling, provocative one, too. Alice Ripley won the Tony for Best Actress in the role of a wife and mother with bipolar disorder. Her searing performance will stay with you forever, and the surging score by Tom Kitt conveys pain and anguish, but also hope.

“Ragtime”—I missed the original production of “Ragtime” on Broadway in 1998, which some critics felt was a technically dazzling historical pageant that lacked heart. It’s hard to imagine anyone finding fault with this stunning revival, which I caught in previews.

This is a more intimate, scaled- down production than the original, and there are no big names in the huge cast. But it’s a gripping portrayal of 1902 America, where immigrants and blacks struggle for justice and privileged whites try to adjust to a changing world. Terrence McNally’s book is based on the E. L. Doctorow novel, and the gorgeous music is by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens. Marcia Milgrom Dodge directs this production, and at intermission I saw her in the back, discussing with her staff what needed to be tweaked before opening. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

Uplifting Theater, from Pros to Amateurs

Uplifting Theater, From Amateurs and Pros

Two great productions on Sarasota stages.

By Charlie Husiking

After five months away, I spent my first weekend back in Sarasota catching two buoyant, polished musicals performed by theater troupes that couldn’t have been more different.

On Oct. 23, I attended the Asolo Rep’s season-opening production, the Tony Award-winning “Contact.”

This dance-heavy show, conceived by choreographer Susan Stroman, features a cast of Asolo regulars, Broadway performers and members of the Sarasota Ba llet. It’s the first time in the show’s 10-year history that a U.S. theater company and a ballet company have collaborated on a production.

And how proud Asolo Producing Artistic Director Michael Edwards and Sarasota Ballet Artistic Director Iain Webb must be of this partnership. The New York dancers and the local ones blended seamlessly in this effervescent, three-vignette show that, with relatively little dialogue and plenty of fancy footwork, speaks volumes about the need for human contact.

Edwards really knows how to start the Asolo season with a flourish, as he’s demonstrated in previous years with “Amadeus” and “Barnum.” At a pre-performance dinner where the buzz was palpable, Edwards noted these tough economic times are challenging for arts organizations. But he praised the donors in the room because, “You want to live in a community where art matters, and we have to measure up. We are a barometer for what a community really values and is willing to draw the line for.”

Michael Donald Edwards with the cast of "Contact" on opening night.

The following night, I was in the Visual and Performing Arts Center Theatre at Booker High School for “Flight of the Lawn Chair Man.” Now, I’ve seen some amazing productions by the talented VPA students in the past. But it had been a while since I’d been there, and I wasn’t familiar with this musical, so my expectations were low.

Kelly Leissler in Flight of the Lawn Chair Man.

Wow, was I enthralled by the standout performances and the show’s catchy score and witty, satiric lyrics. Inspired by a real event, the musical tells the story of a sad sack Wal-Mart clerk who achieves his dream of flying by attaching helium balloons to his chair and rising to 16,000 feet. Without being the least bit sappy, the show celebrates those who have the courage of their convictions and are willing to stand up to authority.

Kelly Leissler was endearing as the title character, and Danielle White , who played his girlfriend, has such an astounding voice she may as well have been wearing a t-shirt that said, “Next stop, Broadway.” But the entire ensemble helped make this show soar.

My only regret was that the auditorium wasn’t full for this final performance. The next VPA show is “Animal Farm,” from Dec. 9-12. These kids are too good to miss.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

My Kind of Town

When it comes to culture, Chicago gives New York a run for the money.

By Charlie Huisking

The Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park

Whenever I want to immerse myself in big-city culture for a long weekend, I head to New York. What can compare with a couple of Broadway shows, a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and maybe a ballet performance at Lincoln Center?

Well, after an exhilarating midsummer sojourn to Chicago recently, I have to acknowledge that the place gives Manhattan some stiff competition. The Second City? Maybe not.

The first stop on my cultural tour was the recently opened modern wing of the Chicago Art Institute. Designed by Renzo Piano, this elegant three-story structure has a sleek flat roof Piano calls a magic carpet. And the building is so light and airy it looks as if it could take flight. After spending hours exploring a provocative, sometimes bewildering array of 20th and 21st century art, I stepped onto Piano's pedestrian bridge, which links the museum with the glorious Millennium Park.

Quickly becoming one of Chicago's most popular tourist attractions, the 24-acre park is a dramatic mix of green space, public art and performance venues. Its most spectacular feature is the Jay Pritzker Pavilion, an amphitheater designed by Frank Gehry, with massive stainless-steel ribbons that cascade down from above the stage.

The next night, I caught a free performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony at the pavilion, performed by the Grant Park Orchestra and a chorus of 150. We were early enough to snag a couple of the 4,000 seats. Meanwhile, twice as many people spread out blankets and picnic baskets on the Great Lawn. The acoustics were perfect (though I don't think Beethoven had police sirens in his orchestration).

Chicago's most famous theater company, Steppenwolf, was dark during my visit. But there were still plenty of intriguing shows to choose from at other spaces. I went to the tiny Timeline Theatre to catch a mesmerizing production of "The History Boys," the Tony Award-winning drama by Alan Bennett that's set in an English boys’ school.

The next day I craned my neck for an hour and a half during a fascinating boat tour on the Chicago River. Run by the Chicago Archictecture Foundation, the tour glides past dozens of landmark buildings, from the Art Deco-style Merchandise Mart to the Tribune Tower.

The Trump International Hotel

My headquarters for my three-night stay was the newest Chicago landmark, the 96-story Trump International Hotel and Tower. I would never stay at the Trump New York, a monument to the Donald's bad taste and excess. But the Chicago version is sleek and understated. The rooms are done in soft tones of gray and cream and brown, and there's not a hint of gold leaf.

I was upgraded to a spa level room, which had a huge soaking tub in the bathroom, a yoga mat and floor to ceiling windows offering dramatic views of the Tribune Tower and the Wrigley Building

The views are just as spectacular at Sixteen, a 16th floor restaurant and open-air bar, which is a happy hour hot spot

No Chicago visit would be complete without a trip to Wrigley Field, of course. Even though the Cubs had faded out of contention by mid-August, they scored 12 runs in the first two innings in the game I saw.

For Cub fans, its "wait 'till next year" again. But I can't wait until next year to return to Chicago.

Monday, February 02, 2009

Travels with Capone

Our miniature Schnauzer braves the frozen North.

Bucking the snowbird migratory pattern, I have traveled north for the winter.
I'm spending the month of February in frigid Fort Wayne, Indiana. I told people I've come for the Mid-Winter Sleet and Slush Festival. Actually, I'm keeping my partner, Jeff, company while he attends to businesses he owns.

In the deep winter, a housebound Capone has plenty of toys to play with.

Unwilling to leave our miniature Schnauzer, Capone, in a kennel for a month, we made the trip by car so we could bring him along. Everything was going smoothly until about two hours north of Atlanta, when we ran into heavy rain and dense fog. Then we hit the leading edge of the ice storm that would cause so much havoc in Kentucky and Tennessee. We had to stop the car every half-hour to chip the ice from the windshield wipers.

Finally, when it started to snow, we stopped for the night at the Red Roof Inn near Dayton, Ohio.

Capone loves the motel milieu. He's very good about not barking at other guests, and he exercises by leaping from bed to bed in the room. But he freaked out when I took him for a walk the next morning. Ten inches of snow had fallen during the night, and heavy, wet flakes were still cascading from the sky.

Now, Capone grew up in the Midwest, but he clearly had forgotten everything he ever learned about dealing with the elements. He started whimpering as his paws sunk into the snow. He made a quick U-Turn and headed back toward the room, but skidded on a patch of ice and landed on his stomach, his front and back legs flailing. He gave me a heartbreakingly pleading look, and I could read his mind: "I appreciate you guys wanting my company, but next time, leave me in Florida. I'll be just fine, and I'll pretend to have missed you when you return."

Over the last few days in Fort Wayne, Capone has learned to cope. He no longer lets a little snow get in the way of tracking a good scent, and frankly, he handles the ice patches much better than I do. I have noticed that he will occasionally lift a front or back paw and limp for a few steps. A neighbor here told me he may be getting salt pellets in his paws as he walks on the sidewalk.

Since I obsess about this dog every waking moment (like I needed to tell you?), yesterday I braved 7 degree temperatures and drove to PetsMart to purchase doggie booties. They were handsome little leather numbers with soft fleece linings. I carefully slipped them on his paws, but Capone wasn't having it. He stood as stiff as a statue, and refused to move until I took them off.

So we're continuing to walk without protection, and he seems fine with it. This morning, he spotted a rabbit 50 yards away, and pulled me into a snowbank as he gave chase.

I'd like to write more, but Capone is snuggled next to me. It's time for Caponesssssss dinnnnnnner and heeeeee is pounding the keyyyyyboard with anticipaaation

Monday, December 29, 2008

Sun, Sand and Celebrities

Beach-hopping in beautiful St. Barts.

By Charlie Huisking

The worldwide economic crisis evidently hasn’t affected the rich and famous who annually flock to St. Barts between Christmas and New Year’s.

A view of stunning St. Barts.

The glitzy harbor of this stunningly beautiful Caribbean island was filled with mega-yachts on Sunday, when my cruise ship, the Crystal Serenity, anchored just offshore.

Anchored alongside us was Octopus, the 415-foot-long yacht owned by Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen. The yacht has a swimming pool, a submarine, and fore and aft helicopters. Allen must have been throwing quite a party, because the copters continuously shuttled guests over from nearby St. Martin, which has an international airport.

Happy holidays! Santa Claus arrives at the Palm Court on the Crystal Serenity.

Each time a helicopter landed, about 10 crew members, looking smart in blue pants and white shirts, scurried to greet the guests. From my stateroom balcony, I trained a pair of binoculars on the yacht, but I didn’t recognize any famous faces.

However, while driving the steep, twisting roads of St. Barts, I entered a roundabout and found myself staring at David Letterman! The CBS talk show host, who has a house on St. Barts, was driving an open vehicle barely larger than a golf cart. Does the CBS insurance department approve of this?

Sporting a couple of days of stubble, Letterman and his wife parked in Gustavia, the bustling capital, and ambled down a street lined with Armani boutiques and Cuban cigar shops. I decided it would be tacky to chase after him and try to get a picture.

My day in St. Barts began early, with a trip to gorgeous Colombier Beach, perhaps the finest on the island. Since it can be reached only by boat or by foot, six of us signed up for a trek arranged by the Serenity’s shore excursion department. Led by Sebastian, a French native who moved to St. Barts 15 years ago, we boarded a van for the short trip to the trailhead. Then we trudged uphill for 45 minutes on the rocky path, which wound through tamarind and mango trees. At times, the path took us to the edge of cliffs with breathtaking views of pounding surf below. Finally, we climbed the last hill and looked down at Colombier Bay.

Trekking the beautiful coves in St. Barts.

There are no hotels, no buildings at all on the cresent-shaped beach, save for a villa (once owned by Laurence Rockefeller) nestled in the trees at the very end. Offshore, about a dozen sailboats bobbed in the turquoise water. But for most of our stay, we had the powder-fine sand to ourselves.

In the afternoon, we drove to another, more bustling beach, St. Jean’s. It adjoins the famous jet-set playground, the Eden Roc resort. In fact, you can access the beach through the hotel grounds, but nobody seems to mind the trespassers.

Pulsating French music was playing at the beachside cafes, windsurfers criss-crossed in the translucent water, and a topless French woman was doing yoga in the sand. Tomorrow, the Serenity docks in Antigua, but it will be hard to top this.

High Seas Holiday

Christmas turned out to be the perfect time for a cruise.

By Charlie Huisking

I’ve rarely gone away for Christmas, but with two deaths in my family this year, it seemed like the perfect time to break with tradition and take a get-away-from-it-all Christmas cruise to the Caribbean.

I still wanted to celebrate the season, though, so I was pleased to see carolers in Dickens-era costumes singing in the atrium of the Crystal Serenity when we boarded in Miami on Dec. 23. Later that night, more carols were sung during a tree-lighting ceremony, and fake snow cascaded down from above. OK, it was a bit incongruous, considering we were headed for the British Virgin Islands, but I loved it. Christmas Eve day was a day at sea, which I spent attending abs classes in the fitness center and walking the teak floor of the Promenade deck.

After dinner, we went to a wonderful Christmas Eve variety show that featured excerpts from The Nutcracker ballet and an organist playing The Hallelujah Chorus. At midnight, Catholic and Protestant services were held, and Jewish passengers, who had attended a Hanukkah candle-lighting ceremony earlier in the evening, gathered with a rabbi. At the Catholic service in the ship’s theater, the congregation was composed almost equally of passengers and crew members, from the Philippines, Austria, Germany and even India. While the ship’s Filipino orchestra played Silent Night, the German man behind me sang out Stille Nacht in a booming voice. Even in the middle of the ocean, surrounded mostly by strangers, the warmth of the season prevailed.

On Christmas Day, I dashed up to the Palm Court, the airy room that is usually the site of afternoon teas and dancing, to watch Santa Claus bring small gifts to the approximately 60 kids on board. This particular cruise has passengers from 35 countries, so the kids were talking excitedly in English, Spanish, German, Russian and several languages I couldn’t pick out.

My next stop was the Trivia Competition, a tradition for me on these days at sea. As we were forming teams and sharpening our pencils, a waitress came by with an egg nog tray. We toasted one another, my team lost the competition in a tie-breaker, and then I was off to enjoy my Christmas present to myself, a hot-stone massage in the Serenity's spa.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Falling for Vermont

Glorious foliage and great inns on a perfect October trip.

By Charlie Huisking

The first week of October is a perfect time to travel just about anywhere. But perhaps because I'm a Florida native who has always longed for the change of seasons, I keep being drawn to Vermont.

I've probably spent 10 or 12 Octobers driving the winding back roads and country lanes of the state in pursuit of the perfect fall foliage. Some years have been better than others, of course. Last year, because of a dry summer and the lack of an early frost, the colors were muted.

But I read on a foilage blog that conditions were ripe for a spectacular season this year (yes, there are foliage blogs, where participants argue heatedly about which Vermont roads offer the best viewing). So I made a last-minute decision to fly to the Green Mountain State, and invited my friend Barby to come along.

Because many of the best inns are booked a year in advance, we were lucky to find space in some of my favorites (even if I had to move somewhere new almost every night).

The first stop was Woodstock, a picture-perfect Vermont town with a village green surrounded by colonial-era buildings. You can spend hours wandering through the bookstores, galleries, gift shops and restaurants in this popular tourist spot. At the Billings Farm Museum just outside of town, you can learn about rural Vermont life in the 19th century.

The Vermont Country Store in Weston

We stayed at the Woodstock Inn, an elegant, 142-room resort hotel with a prominent location in the middle of town. A roaring fire crackled in the massive fireplace in the lobby when we arrived, and our room had a working fireplace, too. But despite the cozy touches, I prefer smaller lodgings where you can get to know the innkeepers and your fellow guests.

The Inn at Round Barn Farm

That was exactly the atmosphere at the Inn at the Round Barn Farm in Waitsfield, where we spent the next two nights. The Round Barn in the inn's name was built in 1910, and it is now the site of weddings, meetings and art exhibits. Guests stay next door in a lovingly restored 19th-century farmhouse. Our room, the Abbott Suite, had a king four-poster bed, a sitting room, gas fireplace and a whirlpool tub.

My friend Barby in front of the Inn at Round Barn Farm

The inn is situated in rural splendor on 245 acres in the Mad River Valley. Hiking trails wind past five ponds, flower gardens and an inviting hammock.

Every afternoon, guests gather in the sitting room for tea, freshly baked cookies and hors d'oeuvres. The tone is informal. We were allowed to stash our take-out lunch in the inn's refrigerator, for example. One afternoon, we met a gregarious Australian couple and invited them to join us for dinner in a restaurant I'd read about in a guidebook.

Fall splendor at Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe

The foliage in Waitsfield was glorious but a little past peak. In nearby Stowe, however, we encountered the brilliant, fiery red-and-orange hillsides that you see in Vermont Life magazine photo spreads. The best spot for viewing was from the vast grounds of the Trapp Family Lodge, which is run by descendants of the family made famous by "The Sound of Music." The Von Trapps reportedly bought this land because it reminded them of their native Austria, and the mountain scenery is spectacular.

Me on a brightly colored country lane in Vermont.

We then headed south to tiny West Townsend, where we spent the night at the Windham Hill Inn, an isolated retreat at the end of a twisting road lined with crimson and gold trees. There are 21 rooms in two 19th-century structures, and the elegant restaurant serves gourmet food. That's good, for there aren't many alternatives in the nearby towns. This is a spot for guests who like to stay put, and perhaps play tennis on the inn's courts or swim in the small pool. And it's easy to stay put in a glorious, 145-acre-setting like this. I wandered along one of the hiking trails, while Barby climbed the stairs to the cupola in our room, which offered a 360-degree view of the Crayola-colored hillsides.

Our final stop was my favorite Vermont town, Manchester Village (not to be confused with the much larger Manchester, New Hampshire). Marble production was once a major industry here, and the quaint town is lined with four miles of marble sidewalks. We stayed at the Equinox Resort and Spa, which has been welcoming guests for more than 150 years. In fact, Abraham Lincoln's wife and sons spent the summer at the Equinox during the Civil War.

Though the Equinox is a huge property, it still retains a cozy feel, and the service is top-notch. The indoor swimming pool at the spa is huge, and the hot stone massage I got helped sooth shoulder muscles strained by too many leaf-peeping drives.

As we packed the car for the ride to the Hartford Airport, the bright sun made the leaves on Mt. Equinox and the other nearby hillsides sparkle and shimmer like jewels. I thought I had overdosed on foliage, but suddenly I wanted more. We decided to drive part way up the Mt. Equinox toll road, exclaiming "Oh, my God!" at every bend in the road.

Come next September, I have the feeling I'll be checking those foliage blogs again.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Venice in Vegas

I say no to Sin City, yes to nature.

By Charlie Huisking

During a delightful afternoon last week, I watched gondolas glide along the Grand Canal, stopped for some supremely rich chocolate gelato and had lunch in an outdoor cafe on St. Mark’s Square. And all of this was in the Nevada desert!

Dinner at St. Mark's Square in the Venetian Hotel.

Yes, I wasn’t in the real Venice (which can be so unpleasantly smelly and hot, after all), but in the climate-controlled artificial Venice at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas.

Now, Las Vegas is the last place on earth I thought I’d ever find myself. I don’t gamble, I don’t drink and I don’t like to shop. But I decided to accompany a convention-going friend for a few days, just to see what all the fuss was about.

And I’ll tell you upfront, I’ll never go again. I thought I might find some kitschy appeal in the over-the-top garishness of the place. But no, I just found it garish. And depressing, particularly inside the casinos, where artificially enhanced women flirted with packs of swaggering young guys who had obviously seen too many episodes of TV’s Entourage.

But I must say the Venetian was a welcome oasis. It may be hard to describe a 7,000-room hotel decorated with gold leaf and ersatz frescos as charming, but I loved the place. The re-creation of St. Mark’s Square is handsomely done, and the lighting and the fluffy clouds on the ceiling really make you think you’re outside. Every hour, opera singers, jugglers and other entertainers perform in the square, and the men steering the gondolas learned their trade in the real Venice.

I also spent a lot of time in the hotel’s branch of the Canyon Ranch spa, where I enjoyed a massage and worked out on the exercise bike.

One night, we walked along Las Vegas Boulevard, past a line of sign-waving hawkers promising to deliver “Girls Like This in your Room in 20 Minutes.” But we had a more high-minded goal, catching a performance of Cirque du Soleil’s O in the nearby Bellagio Hotel. It was fantastic! This is the production in which the amazing performers dive into a massive onstage pool and swing from the sails of flying ships that hover above. The production values were incredible.

Eager to encounter some natural beauty, I took a one-day trip outside of Las Vegas to the Bryce Canyon and Zion national parks in Utah. It was a long day with six others in an SUV operated by Adventure Photo Tours. We left at 6 a.m. and didn’t return until 9 p.m. But the spectacular scenery made the long drive worthwhile. I particularly loved Bryce, where you overlook thousands of red, yellow and orange pinnacles and other rock formations known as hoodoos. It’s a magical, inspiring place, even when you’re sharing it with crowds of other awestruck visitors from around the world.

Bryce Canyon National Park

In Zion, you’re not looking down, but up, at towering red rock cliffs that loom over the valley. This place is so popular in summer that you must leave your car in lots outside the park and board shuttles that take you through the park. It’s quite an efficient system. You can hop off to explore a canyon or hike to a waterfall, and you usually don’t have to wait more than a few minutes for another bus to pick you up.

The pinnacle of Bryce Canyon.

Naturally, it was quite a culture shock to return to Las Vegas that night. Maybe that’s why I was particularly happy when my jet took off from the Las Vegas airport the next day. Leaving Las Vegas felt mighty good to me.

A Busy Day in San Diego

Petco Park and pandas are among the draws of this lovely city.

By Charlie Huisking

My first-time visit to San Diego lasted only about 24 hours, a criminally short time for a beautifully situated city with so many diverse attractions. But we crowded a lot into our schedule.

The once-moribound downtown area is now bursting with vitality, particularly in the 16-block-long Gaslamp Historic District. Victorian buildings and warehouses have been converted into hip home-furnishing and clothing stores, night clubs and restaurants. You want sushi bars, seafood grilles, Italian bistros, Thai , Korean and Mexican restaurants? They’re all here.

I stayed at the Omni Hotel, a high-rise that overlooks the 42,000-seat Petco Park, the new home of the San Diego Padres baseball team. Being a big baseball fan, I was sad to see the Padres were on the road. But I did tour the stadium, and was impressed that one of its most popular features is Park at the Park. For $5, you can bring a picnic basket and sprawl on a grassy hill overlooking the outfield. The views are better than from the outfield seats in many stadiums where the seats are much more expensive.

The pandas were the prime attraction at the San Diego Zoo.

We couldn’t leave San Diego without a visit to the world-renowned zoo, home to 4,000 animals in habitats that try to replicate their natural environments. Like most of the zoo’s visitors, I was most enchanted by the pandas, so much so that an employee had to gently urge me to move along so that others could shoot pictures of the adorable bears.

A coastal view of Laguna Beach.

We then headed about an hour north to the Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel, a stunningly located cliffside resort just south of Laguna Beach. To get to the beach 200 feet below, you can hop on a golf cart or walk the steep, lushly landscaped paths. But I spent my days sitting atop the cliff in an Adirondack chair, reading, snoozing and watching dozens of wetsuit-clad surfers who looked like bobbing harbor seals from that vantage point.

The view from the Ritz-Carlton, Laguna Niguel.

Every public space in the hotel, from the restaurant to the fitness center, has a dramatic floor-to-ceiling window view of the Pacific. The Ritz’s only drawbacks are its massive size and its popularity. Five weddings were held at various spots on the property during our weekend stay. If you’re looking for a quieter environment, I’d recommend the Montage, an even pricier resort just up the coast. I did some lobby-sitting in the Montage, just as a reader’s service, and found the ambiance more pleasant, though the views weren’t as spectacular.

The Ritz-Carlton, Laguna Niguel has a commanding clifftop view.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Hollywood, Here I Come

Celeb scouting in West L.A. and the Hills.

By Charlie Huisking

When I told my friends I had booked a room at the Chateau Marmont in Hollywood, most of them thought it was a ghoulish choice.

“Isn’t that the place where John Belushi died?” they asked.

Yes, Belushi did die of a drug overdose in one of the bungalow apartments at the Chateau, a castle-like structure that looms over Sunset Boulevard. But I was attracted to the place because it’s been a Hollywood hangout since the 1930s, welcoming guests from Clark Gable to Marlon Brando to the Rolling Stones.

But I almost changed my mind the day before a recent stay, when I read an online review that said the place had become more shabby than chic, and that you were treated with icy indifference by the staff unless you were Vanity Fair cover material.

Happily, I didn’t cancel my reservation, because I had a fabulous time at the Chateau. The staff was warm and friendly, and didn’t care a bit that I was a nobody. We were ushered to a huge room down the hall from the cozy lobby. True, those demanding sleek, state-of-the-art accommodations might have been disappointed. The bathroom appeared to have the original Spanish tiles, and some of them were cracked. The light switches had push-button on and off switches, the kind I’ve seen in photographs from the ’30s. But I found that charming. And the room had all the modern conveniences I needed, from a plasma TV to a CD player.

Another nice touch that I didn’t believe at first: Atop the mini-bar was a complimentary basket of snacks, from Newman’s Own popcorn to gourmet chocolates and cookies.

I spent a lot of time sitting on the comfortable chairs and couches in the library lounge off the lobby, and swimming in the small pool in the lushly landscaped garden that had a Key West flavor. OK, I admit, I had one eye on my book and another subtly searching for celebrities. But I decided any celebrity guests were safely sequestered in one of the bungalows.

On our second night, I asked the desk clerk for help in getting tickets to the Hollywood Bowl, where the acclaimed Chinese pianist Lang Lang was playing with the Hollywood Bowl orchestra. The desk clerk said excitedly that she was going, too, and gave me great advice on which tickets to pick.

We took a taxi for the trip to the bowl, which is set dramatically in the Hollywood Hills. When we were a mile away, the cabbie did something no cab driver had ever done: He suggested that the traffic was so bad, that it would be faster and cheaper if we got out and walked!

So we did, arriving just in time for a fabulous concert that ranged from Tchaikovsky to contemporary Chinese music, with a fireworks finale thrown in. More than 12,000 people attended the performance, and I was impressed by how quiet and attentive they were. The crowd was a real celebration of L.A.’s diversity, too. There were plenty of Chinese, of course, but also Hispanics, blacks, Europeans, Russians and everybody in between. And at 57, I was by far one of the oldest members of the audience. Wouldn’t the Florida West Coast Symphony love to be drawing the young, hip audience members who surrounded me?

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

New York State of Mind

Shows,shopping and a snake in Times Square.

By Charlie Huisking

When I go to New York to see theater, I usually don't gravitate to comedies. But two light-hearted shows on Broadway are generating so much buzz right now, I couldn't resist.

The 39 Steps is an uproarious sendup of the 1935 Alfred Hitchcock thriller starring Robert Donat as the British hero who gets caught up in an espionage ring. Four actors portray dozens of characters, from mysterious women in distress to spies, porters and Scotland Yard detectives. Standing on a nearly bare stage, the hard-working cast uses minimal props and set pieces to convince you they're on a train speeding through the Scottish moors one minute and racing through the streets of London the next.

The 39 Steps, currently playing on Broadway.

The script contains some sly references to several other Hitchcock films, including Psycho and Vertigo. There's even a shadow-puppet re-enactment of the crop-duster chase scene from North By Northwest.

Despite the theatricality and the inventive nature of the production, my attention was fading by the end of Act Two. I would have trimmed the show to 90 minutes and performed it without an intermission.

I was skeptical of Boeing, Boeing, the revival of the French farce that lasted only 25 performances on Broadway in the 1960s. But with a pitch-perfect cast, this production is a hilarious, fizzy delight.

Boeing, Boeing starring Christine Baranski, Mark Rylance and Bradley Whitford.

It's set in the Paris apartment of an American cad (Bradley Whitford) who is dating three airline stewardesses simultaneously. His carefully choreographed romantic life turns chaotic when a bumbling friend comes to visit.

Mark Rylance earned the 2008 Tony Award for Best Actor as the friend, and he is brilliant. He got some of his biggest laughs for his deadpan expressions and his physical comedy, coming off as a cross between Stan Laurel and Buster Keaton. Mary McCormack almost stole the show as the hot-blooded German stewardess.

New York impressions: I love the energy you feel when you leave a Broadway theater and join the crowd heading for Times Square. Along the way, audiences empty out of other theaters, and you pick up snippets of information and gossip about the shows they have just seen.

Times Square, NYC.

Though Times Square is more antiseptic than it used to be, with The Disney Store replacing the porno shops, it's still a great place to watch the parade pass by. On one corner, a guy was charging people to touch his big snake. (Hey, get your mind out of the gutter-- it was a real snake.)

On another corner, a crowd surrounded a guy selling knock-off Rolexes. And tourists were sitting patiently in front of caricature artists. I wonder what makes a visitor to Times Square at midnight think, "Gee, I've always wanted an unflattering drawing of myself. Why not now?"

You'd never know there was a recession, judging by the people coming out of Fifth Avenue clothing and jewelry stores weighed down with parcels. Of course, many of them had British, French and Italian accents and were clearly taking advantage of the falling dollar.

At the Abercrombie & Fitch flagship store, the crowds were so large that they needed a rope line and a bouncer to limit access. Shirtless male models in Abercrombie jeans stood at the store entrance, smiling coyly and perhaps causing the line to get longer.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Some Enchanted Evening

The Broadway revival of South Pacific lives up to its rave reviews.

By Charlie Huisking

For the price of my ticket to Broadway's sumptuous new production of South Pacific, I could have flown to the REAL South Pacific.

A slight exaggeration, but I had to pay a broker nearly three times the ticket's $125 face value in order to get a seat for the show, which just won the Tony Award for Best Revival of a Musical. Staged in Lincoln Center's cozy, 1,000-seat Vivan Beaumont Theater, the production is sold out until November. I had hoped my friend Jay Handelman, the Herald-Tribune's theater critic, might be able to snag me a seat through his press contacts with the show, but even he had no luck.

So was it worth the money? I stopped thinking about how much I'd shelled out as soon as the orchestra started playing that lush Rodgers & Hammerstein score. Soon, my feet were tapping along to "Bloody Mary" and "There is Nothin' Like a Dame."

This is the first Broadway production of South Pacific since its initial run in 1949. It was viewed by many as too dated to warrant a revival. But with its backdrop of war and its theme of racial prejudice, it has never seemed more relevant. Kelli O'Hara is outstanding as the "cock-eyed optimist" nurse Nellie Forbush, and Brazilian opera singer Paulo Szot smolders as French planter Emile de Becque.

Far from a museum piece, the show had a vitality that had you on the edge of your seat. Some enchanted evening, indeed.

Thankfully, I didn't have to pay a scalper for the other shows I saw on Broadway. I loved August: Osage County, Tracy Letts' Pulitzer Prize and Tony-winning drama about a dysfunctional Oklahoma family. It's three-and-a-half hours long, but you'd never know it. It's painful, ferocious, but also very funny, and impeccably acted by an impressive ensemble headed by Estelle Parsons as the pill-popping matriarch.

Not only that, this may be the only Pulitzer Prize-winning play that mentions Sarasota. In one scene, a daughter has returned home after a family crisis. She tells her sister she hopes to see her at her wedding.

"You're in Sarasota, right," her sister asks. "No, I told you we moved to Miami," she answers.

When I wasn't in theaters, I was having dinner with actors.

Specifically, with Juan Javier Cardenas, the FSU/Asolo Conservatory graduate whom my mother had sponsored in the Sarasota graduate-acting program. Juan has been in New York only a few weeks, but he's already landed a big role at an audition. He has been cast in Boleros for the Disenchanted, a new play by Jose Rivera that will open in September at Boston's Huntington Theater Company.

Me and Conservatory grad Juan Cardenas in NYC.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Liquid Art

New York City’s new waterfalls make a dazzling impression.

By Charlie Huisking

During my visit to New York last week, I did the normal tourist things: saw four Broadway shows, wandered through museums, ate at some nice restaurants, and took in the waterfalls in the East River.

Waterfalls? Yes, New York's gritty urban landscape is now tempered by four spectacular waterfalls, from 80 to 120 feet high. They cascade into the East River from towers made of silver scaffolding, just off the coasts of Manhattan, Brooklyn and Governor's Island. By far the most stunning of the four stands under the Brooklyn Bridge.

These water works are a public art project, "The New York City Waterfalls," by Olafur Eliasson, a Danish-Icelandic artist. Supported by New York's Public Art Fund and a host of private donors, the installations will be up through Oct. 13.

You can view the waterfalls by land, and I thought of taking the subway to Brooklyn and then walking back to Manhattan on the Brooklyn Bridge's pedestrian walkway. But then the concierge at my hotel suggested I see them from the water on a Circle Line tour.

I'd always avoided this New York institution as being too touristy, but I figured this was the time to try it. And I'm so glad I did.

The boat was jammed with visitors from all parts of the world, who jostled for position along the railings, snapping pictures of the dramatic New York skyline that gleamed on a cloudless day.

The picture-taking grew more frenzied as we made a side trip to circumnavigate the Statue of Liberty--a perfect excursion on this July 3 voyage.

The boat sailed by all four waterfalls, and not everyone on board seemed impressed. "That one looks like a sewer pipe is leaking," one man told his wife.

But the thundering falls under the Brooklyn Bridge dazzled everybody.

I'm told they look even more impressive at night, when they are bathed in shimmering white lights.

To quote the New York Times, "They are the remnants of a primordial Eden, beautiful, uncanny signs of a natural non-urban past that the city never had."

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Summer Haven

A perfect stay in Saugatuck, Michigan.

By Charlie Huisking

I picked a perfect June day to explore the spectacular Sleeping Bear Dunes National Seashore, about an hour south of Traverse City.

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Seashore.

The temperature was in the 60s, and Lake Michigan sparkled in the bright sun as I stood on an overlook atop a 200-foot-high sand dune. This was one of 10 stops on a seven-mile long driving loop in the park, which got its name because one of the giant dunes was said to look like a bear stretched out for a snooze.

Most of the dunes are off-limits to hikers for ecological and safety reasons. But you can climb one, and what an experience. From the parking lot, the climbers look like tiny black spots, surrounded by an expanse of grainy brown sand. It took me a grunting and wheezing half-hour to reach the first plateau, from which I could see the lake in the distance. Hardier hikers continued the trek, but I was eager to get to my next stop, the town of Saugatuck.

The Saugatuck Chain Ferry in Saugatuck, Mich.

A former lumber town and a summer haven for Chicago artists since the early 1900s, Saugatuck is filled with interesting galleries, shops and restaurants, many housed in Victorian-era buildings. The town is swamped with tourists on summer weekends, but during my mid-week stay, I had the place to myself. I got an outdoor chair massage to recover from my dune climb and took a 19th-century ferry across the Kalamazoo River to Oval Beach.

There is a wide choice of inns and bed and breakfasts in Saugatuck. But it's hard to beat the Beechwood Manor Inn & Cottage. Located on a quiet, leafy street away from the busy downtown, but within easy walking distance, the cozy Victorian inn is the perfect retreat. I was tempted to spend my entire stay on the broad front porch.

The Enid room at the Beechwood Manor Inn & Cottage.

Its three rooms have queen beds, private baths, quality linens and cable TVs. That last amenity is important to me, because even though I love the charm of an inn setting, I need my MSNBC to keep up with politics.

Innkeepers Gregg Smith and Sal Sapienza set the perfect tone. They're eager to provide their guests with information about area dining and attractions, and will even set up an in-room massage. But they give you your space so you don't feel as if you're staying in someone else's home.

In the hospitality room, open 24 hours, you can help yourself to coffee, tea, soft drinks, water and snacks. You fill out your breakfast order before retiring each night, and whatever you choose, it will be gourmet quality.

The three-bedroom cottage behind the inn has a full kitchen and accommodates six. More importantly, its pet-friendly. So I'm hoping to return later this summer with a beach-loving Schnauzer named Capone.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Up in Michigan

I take a road trip to pretty Petoskey on Little Traverse Bay.

By Charlie Huisking

For years, I've been hearing friends extol the beauty and charm of the lakeside towns in Michigan. Since I’m spending much of this summer with a friend in Indiana, I decided to take a five-hour road trip north.

My first stop was Petoskey, a lovely resort town on stunningly blue Little Traverse Bay. The first tourists started arriving here in the 1870s by steamship from Chicago. The town's historic Gaslight district is filled with restored 19th-century buildings housing shops, restaurants and hotels. I wandered through Waterfront Park and rented a bike for a ride along a 30-mile bayside path (OK, my ride didn't last 30 miles).

A view of downtown Petoskey, Mich.

In nearby Harbor Springs, I parked on Beach Drive, which is lined by nearly 100 Victorian cottages with wide porches that overlook manicured green lawns sloping down to the bay. My visit was in early June, so the summer people hadn't arrived yet, and most of the homes were boarded up.

My "summer cottage" was the Bay Harbor Inn, a grand white Victorian-style hotel that's the centerpiece of a 1,200-acre resort and residential development.

Though only 10 years old, the hotel is built to look like it's been here a century. My waterfront room on the third floor was huge, with a balcony, fireplace and a spacious marble bathroom.

I walked past the gazebo and the croquet court and sprawled in a hammock to watch the sunset. It was cool enough for a sweater, and nearby, several guests were toasting marshmallows over a fire pit on the white-sand beach.

Beachscape in Petoskey.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Knock, Knock

Who’s there? Me, going door to door for Obama in Indiana.

By Charlie Huisking

When I knocked on Sarasota doors for Kelly Kirschner during last year's city commission campaign, people were glad to see me coming. Well, actually, they were glad to see Kelly, whom I accompanied on a walk through some neighborhoods. My job was basically holding the map and the extra brochures.

Canvassing for votes was a lot tougher this week in Fort Wayne, Indiana, where I'm campaigning for Barack Obama.

It's not that people don't like Obama here. Many people who answered their doors told me they were eager to vote for him on May 6. But times are tough here in Fort Wayne. The economy is terrible, unemployment is high, and crime is way up (there were eight murders in a recent two-week period). So many people are wary about opening their door to a stranger, particularly one with a clipboard and a handful of brochures in his hand.

Some cracked their doors only an inch or two, took a flyer and quickly said goodbye. One house had a "No Solicitors. This Means You" sign on the door.

So I didn't knock and merely left the brochure under the mat. But the homeowner screamed at me anyway. "Hey, can't you read?" he bellowed.

"I'm not soliciting, I'm just leaving you information," I stammered.

Adding to my frustration, I was canvassing in what passes for spring in

Indiana: a cold rain and 45-degree temperatures. To top it off, the umbrella I bought at Kroger's broke after an hour.

Just when my passion for politics was about to burn out, I knocked on the door of a woman who told me she was torn between Obama and Hillary Clinton.

"What can I tell you to help you decide?" I asked her. For the next 15 minutes, I rattled off Obama's positions on health care, jobs and Iraq, and also talked about the personal attributes that I admire. Maybe she was humoring me because I was dripping wet, but as I left she said she thought she'd vote for Obama.

I must confess I don't expect Obama to win next week. This is a very conservative state. A columnist in the local paper noted, "It's difficult for many people here to vote for a woman as president, but voting for a black man is an even bigger hurdle. It's not that we're racist, but we don't like change." (Well, don't rule out the fact you might be a tad bit racist).

I got back to Obama headquarters just in time to hear him in a telephone conference call to statewide volunteers and staff. He thanked us all for our efforts, and apologized for the "static" that the Reverend Wright controversy had caused.

"Thank you for believing, not in me, but in yourselves, and in the change you can help bring about," he said. Suddenly, I didn't feel cold at all.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

A Political Trip

A trip to Indiana leads me to Obama.

By Charlie Huisking

The title of this blog is Luxury Traveler. But let's rename it Political Traveler for this edition.

I am in Indiana, the post-Pennsylvania place to be for anyone obsessed, as I am, with the battle between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama for the Democratic Presidential nomination.

I came to Indiana primarily to help my friend Jeff, who has inherited a business in Fort Wayne. But the chance to observe a historic election in a pivotal state was an added inducement.

Readers of this blog know I'm a passionate Obama supporter. Since I couldn't campaign for him in Florida, I’ve volunteered to knock on doors and pass out fliers here.

On Friday, I was part of a crowd of 500 in a Fort Wayne auditorium cheering Michelle Obama, who can match her husband when it comes to eloquence and charisma. I was directed to a seat on stage, just behind the podium (Jeff snarkily suggested that the campaign wanted me in camera range, to prove that Obama does attract SOME older voters!).

Michelle had a cold and a hoarse voice, but she spoke for an hour and was in turn funny, poignant and inspirational. As she mixed with the crowd afterward, I told her I had missed her reception at Caren and Dick Lobo's house in Sarasota in December, so I was glad to get another chance. Her face brightened at the mention of that event, and she thanked me for coming.

Early Saturday morning, I was on the road to Marion, a rural community of 30,000 about 45 miles from Fort Wayne. Barack Obama himself was the attraction this time. He was scheduled to appear in a high-school gymnasium at 10:30 a.m.

Two hours beforehand, an exuberant crowd of 2,500 filled the place. I again snagged a seat right by the podium, in the front row of the bleachers. It was a scene right out of Hoosiers, with basketball championship banners, some from the 1920s, hanging from the rafters.

The audience was about 70 percent white, and encompassed young couples, black women wearing their Sunday church hats, and men with leathered faces wearing International Harvester caps. We all chanted "Yes We Can" and clapped along to "Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now" on the sound system.

Obama arrived early, bounding onto the stage wearing a white shirt and tie.

He was introduced by Bernie Smith, a 55-year-old Marion resident who lost his job when the RCA factory shut down four years ago.

"I was raised a Republican, but I'm not going down that road again," Smith said to cheers. Clearly nervous, he stumbled a bit during the introduction, finally turning to a beaming Obama and saying, "I"m sorry, but this is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me."

The loss of jobs is a huge issue in Indiana, and Obama talked about it at length during his speech. Those critics who say Obama is long on soaring rhetoric and short on specifics should have heard this address. It was crisp, hard-hitting and full of policy proposals, with a dollop of inspiration here and there.

After the half-hour speech, Obama answered questions for another 45 minutes.

He also recognized a student in the crowd who had played a basketball game with him the night before. "They gave me a workout," he said. "I had to take Ibruprofin today." Showing off his hardwood skills in hoops-crazy Indiana was a shrewd move for Obama, especially after that unfortunate bowling incident in Pennsylvania.

As he left the stage, Obama walked by our row. I stuck out my hand and told him I had come from Florida to volunteer. "I can tell by the tan," he said. "Thanks."

As I left Marion, I noticed that the local theater was staging a production of Driving Miss Daisy. Hmm. A play about a charismatic black man and an ornery white woman.

Speaking of Hillary (whom I would vote for should she steal, I mean, win the nomination), I raced back to Fort Wayne to try to catch her rally at a downtown park. But the event, which attracted 500 on a cold, blustery day, was over.

That's OK. The election is more than a week away, so I'll probably have many more chances.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Ports of Call

Island-hopping on the Crystal Serenity.

By Charlie Huisking

As I think I mentioned in a blog last year, each time the Crystal Serenity embarks from a port, Louis Armstrong's version of What a Wonderful World plays on the on-deck loudspeakers.

I now realize I'm not the only sucker for that unabashedly sentimental song. Yesterday, as the Serenity left Tortola, a lovely speck of green mountains and white beaches in the British Virgin Islands, Joanne, a young lawyer from Miami, rushed to the walkway that surrounds the pool deck.

"I haven't missed Louie, have I?" she asked.

A couple hundred other passengers were also there to listen, though I concede many of them might have been attracted by the free rum punches distributed at this, our final sail-away on this 10-day cruise. For me, the trip sure ended in spectacular fashion.

On Monday, the Serenity docked in St. Kitts, where 19 of us took a half-day sailing trip on a gorgeous, 79-foot-long catamaran with a crew of five.

Several of us sprawled out in the boat's netting, where we could stare up at the billowing sails and peer at the turquoise Caribbean waters inches below us.

We anchored in a tiny cove for about an hour, snorkeling along a coral reef brimming with colorful fish and staghorn coral.

That's me snorkeling in St. Kitts' stunningly blue water.

Tuesday's port was Tortola, a bustling yachting center in the British Virgin Islands. But as soon as we docked at 8 a.m., a friend and I raced to catch an inter-island ferry to nearby Virgin Gorda. That tiny island was in the news last week because many of the VIP guests at the wedding of Google co-founder Larry Page stayed at several Virgin Gorda resort hotels.

The Crystal Serenity docked in Tortola, British Virgin Islands.

But I made the trip to explore The Baths, a spectacular stretch of giant boulders strewn along a white-sand beach and piled 50 feet high at some points. The rocks are believed to be remnants of a volcanic eruption eons ago. You have to climb down a 300-foot-long trail to get to The Baths. Then you can spend hours hiking through caves and glimmering pools of water formed by the giant rocks. Sometimes you are waist-deep in water; at other times you're crawling through openings on your hands and knees, or clutching ropes fastened to the rocks for your protection.

The Baths' giant boulders are believed to be volcanic remnants.

I had to turn back after 20 minutes, shocked to realize that either the crevices had gotten narrower since I made this trip 15 years ago, or, more disturbingly, my body wasn't as supple as it used to be.

However, my age of 56 never feels younger than on a Crystal cruise. Though my lawyer friend Joanne is in her 40s, and two couples from California we've been hanging out with are younger than I, many of the passengers are in their 70s and 80s, even early 90s. Somebody quipped that this passenger list is so old because the boat left from Miami, and many probably were bused over from their condos next door.

Even the ship's comedian joked about it last night. "If this ship goes down, America's Medicare and Social Security problems would be solved," he said.

Joking aside, seeing the shape many of them are in gives me hope. Looking out the window of the computer room now, at 7:30 in the morning, a dozen gray-haired women are power-walking. Older passengers are also biking, stretching and lining up for the treadmills in the health center.

Since cruising seems to keep you young at heart, I plan to make it part of my health-care regimen forever.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Caribbean Chic

Beautiful scenery and the beautiful people on St. Barts.

By Charlie Huisking

I didn't see David Letterman while I was on St. Barts this week. Though the talk-show host owns one villa on the island and is building another, he was probably busy in New York, trying to end the television writers' strike.

I didn't see Bill Gates, either, though a taxi driver pointed out his huge yacht in the harbor and said Gates is always here between Christmas and New Years.

I did spot hip-hop billionaire and "Def Poetry Jam" creator Russell Simmons, who was walking along the beach in front of Nikki's, a trendy restaurant where guests sit by the shore on couches under a sail-like canopy. Simmons likes St. Barts so much that he was married here several years ago. That marriage didn't work out, but he must have kept the villa.

When you arrive in St. Barts, you feel as if a tiny piece of the Cote d'

Azur has broken off and drifted to the middle of the Caribbean. The

U-shaped harbor of this French-owned island is filled with mega-yachts from around the world. French and American rock music pulses from bistros and from shops selling Armani, Dolce and Gabbana, Rolex watches, French perfume and Cuban cigars.

St. Barts' lush green foliage and azure waters attract tourists--and celebrities--from around the world.

We took a tender in from the Crystal Serenity about noon and rented a terrifyingly tiny car called a Chevy Spark. We spent the next few hours driving around the island, stopping at isolated, windswept beaches like Grand Saline, and crowded, see-and-be-seen spots like St. Jean Beach, where the famed resort Eden Rock commands attention from a rocky promontory, and where all the women command attention because they are topless.

Driving up and down St. Barts' steep hills was an adventure. The roads are narrow and the scenery is so spectacular you're tempted to look at the view instead of the oncoming cars. Not only that, many of the other drivers are vacationing from France, and are used to driving like madmen.

Isolated beaches and spectacular scenery make a trip to St. Barts' worth every Euro.

So I needed a relaxing break by the time we reached Nikki's, which has branches in St. Tropez and Cannes. The staff was pleasant and welcoming. We weren't treated like American rubes, even though I was wearing a battered SNN hat and a t-shirt.

St. Barts was an expensive island even before the currency was converted to the Euro. And now, prices are out of sight for vacationing Americans. My Salad Nicoise, my friend's chicken satay and our two iced teas cost about $80, including tip. But as I sat there taking in the Caribbean light, listening to the pounding surf and watching the beautiful people, I didn't even blink when the bill came. And for a cheapskate like me, that's saying a lot.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Stormy Weather

We set off on a Caribbean cruise—heading right toward Tropical Storm Olga.

By Charlie Huisking

After skating through the hurricane season in Sarasota without experiencing so much as a small-craft warning, I booked a mid-December Caribbean cruise on the Crystal Serenity.

And wouldn't you know it, as we set sail from the port of Miami on Dec. 11, we found ourselves heading toward Tropical Storm Olga.

Our first day at sea started out pleasantly enough, even though a friend and I lost the morning trivia competition. (Who knew that Richard Nixon was the first president to visit all 50 states? I didn't think he was that gregarious).

By mid-afternoon, though, the seas were churning. The blue-green waves were 10 feet high, and the wind was howling as I walked on the promenade deck.

The Crystal Serenity is a remarkably stable vessel, however, and I encountered only a few passengers who admitted to seasickness.

That night was the formal Captain's welcome dinner. Even though my friend and I had brought dark suits for the occasion, we didn't feel like dressing up.

So we decided to stay in our robes and have room service in the cabin. And I'm not talking a turkey sandwich and fries, either. On Crystal, you can order course by course from the main dining room menu.

So Sasha, our Serbian steward, brought me wild mushroom soup, a spinach salad, tender pink Chateaubriand and a white-chocolate mousse with fudge chunks.

By late evening, the storm had moved far enough west that the seas were subsiding. But we still arrived at our first stop, Grand Turk Island, four hours late the next morning.

The happy result of the delay, however, was that the snorkeling trip we had booked had to be rescheduled from an ungodly 8 a.m. to a more civilized noon.

The Turk Islands are one of the top skin-diving spots in the Caribbean, and the snorkeling is terrific, too. Though I've seen more-colorful fish on previous excursions, I've never seen fan coral like this. At one point, I was surrounded by thousands of pieces of coral, some bright purple, others pea-green, all undulating back and forth like a convention of synchronized swimmers.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

My Obama Moment

I meet the candidate at a private Bird Key reception.

By Charlie Huisking

In my private minute with Barack Obama, I could have asked him about Iraq, health care or global warming. But instead, we discussed men’s fashion.

Supporters had paid $1,000 each to have their special Obama moment on Bird Key.

“I didn’t wear a tie tonight, because I always see photos of you campaigning without one,” I told Obama as we posed for a picture together at a Bird Key fundraising reception on Monday night.

Looking sharp in a grey-green suit and a burgundy tie, Obama smiled and mentioned that he’d had breakfast in Puerto Rico with the governor that morning. “So I figured I’d better wear a tie for that occasion,” he said. “But you look fine without one.”

Before an aide ushered me along so the next person in line could have an Obama moment, I told the Democratic presidential candidate how touched I was by his first book, the beautifully crafted (and not ghost-written) memoir Dreams From My Father.

“As I read it, I kept thinking how wonderful it would be to have a president this bright, this introspective, this self-aware,” I said a bit nervously.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Obama replied, before greeting the excited woman behind me.

As you’ve figured out by now, I attended the reception at the bayfront, Mediterranean-style home of David and Lisa Grain as a check-writing Obama supporter, not as a journalist. So I failed to ask many pertinent questions, such as what the Grains’ background was (he has his own company, one guest told me), or how long they’d been in Sarasota.

The affable Grain bears a striking resemblance to Tiki Barber, the just-retired New York Giants’ football player. And Lisa Grain is fashion-model beautiful. (“This family is right out of central casting,” Obama noted while thanking them for their hospitality).

Lisa and David Grain

To accommodate the nearly 200 guests, some of the furniture had been moved out, and a temporary floor had been placed over the outdoor pool. It was an eclectic crowd of young and old, black and white, with guests ranging from Judy Lisi, the president of the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center, to Rev. Fred Robinson, the rector of the Church of the Redeemer. But tongues were really wagging at the presence of Dennis and Graci McGillicuddy, a power couple usually associated with Republican causes.

Obama spoke off the cuff for nearly a half-hour about Iraq, the current crisis in Pakistan, his health care plan and his ideas for reducing dependence on foreign oil. Then he took questions from the crowd.

Though he can appear professorial and stiff in televised debates, in person he was charismatic, inspirational and quick-witted.

He joked about his “cousin” Dick Cheney, a reference to recent news that Obama and the vice-president are from the same family tree. “There’s a black sheep in every family, a crazy old uncle in the attic,” Obama said to much laughter.

When an 11-year-old in the audience asked for his “take” on No Child Left Behind, Obama was impressed. “My take? I like that,” he said. “Are you sure you’re only eleven?”

Sunday, July 01, 2007

A Luxurious Port in a Storm

Crashing waves and misty rain just add to the appeal of Vancouver’s Wickaninnish Inn.

By Charlie Huisking

A room with a view

When you enter your room at the Wickaninnish Inn on Canada’s Vancouver Island, you find the amenties you’d expect in any upscale lodging: Aveda bath salts, high-thread-count sheets, thick, comfortable towels. But in the closet, you’ll also discover a bright yellow rain slicker, along with a note advising you that you can borrow a pair of boots from the front desk.

It rains a lot in this northwest corner of Vancouver Island. The inn is located near Tofino, just outside the boundaries of the Pacific Rim National Park, a stretch of pristine beaches and old-growth rainforests.

But the climate doesn’t keep people from coming to this ruggedly beautiful part of the world. In fact, the winter storm season is a hugely popular time at the inn, which stands on a rocky promontory in a grove of cedars and firs. Guests love to watch the waves crash against the rocks from the comfort of their rooms, or through the 20-foot-tall windows in the lobby.

City Slicker: A little rain never hurt anything.

The weather was relatively calm during my visit in June, though rain was falling. I happily slipped into the slicker and hiked along Chesterman Beach, admiring the driftwood scattered along the sand.

The Wick, as it is affectionately called, is regularly rated among the top hotels in North America by such publications as Conde Nast Traveler. The owners, a family with deep roots in Tofino, aim to provide luxurious surroundings with minimal impact on the environment.

The 75 rooms and suites are located in two gray cedar buildings, the main inn and the newer Wickaninnish on the Beach, where I stayed. My room had a gas fireplace, a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the beach, a soaker tub in the stone-floored bathroom, and a balcony. Each guestroom has a hand-crafted driftwood chair.

Yet the public rooms in both buildings are so inviting that you’ll be eager to explore them. .I particularly loved the Driftwood Lounge, where you could sit by a wood-burning fireplace and enjoy coffee and pastries while staring at the Pacific. In the Lookout Library, you could peer at the ocean through a telescope.

The main inn is the home of the Pointe Restaurant, which offers 240-degree panoramic views, and the Ancient Cedars Spa. All the public rooms feature striking works in glass, stone and wood by local artists.

You can visit some of their studios in nearby Tofino, a funky town that is also the base for fishing trips and whale-and-bear-watching expeditions.

It isn’t easy to get to the Wickaninnish Inn. Tofino is a four-hour drive from Victoria, the charming city that most Americans visit when they come to Vancouver Island. But it’s worth the trip—even in the rain.

Friday, June 29, 2007

Bound for Glory

Spectacular scenery—and service—on the legendary Rocky Mountaineer train.

By Charlie Huisking

“A black bear ahead on the left!”

All aboard: The Rocky Mountaineer heads west.

That news caused a commotion in the dining car of the Rocky Mountaineer train.

We travelers stopped eating our brie-and-asparagus omelets and our scrambled eggs wrapped in smoked salmon and grabbed our cameras.

I snapped a couple of shots of the bear, staring placidly at us a few yards from the tracks.

A major wildlife sighting, and this two-day train trip between Banff in the Canadian Rockies and Vancouver on the Pacific Coast was only an hour old.

I had pored over Rocky Mountaineer Web sites and brochures for years, dreaming of one day taking the trip billed as the most spectacular rail journey in the world. But my spirits sank as we boarded the train at the tiny station in Banff. The mountains were fogged in, and a cold rain fell. The forecast called for an 80 percent chance of showers during the day.

Taking in fresh air and fabulous views from the platform car.

However, I had learned during the previous week in the Rockies that astrology charts were as reliable as weather forecasts up here. And sure enough, in a couple of hours, the rain stopped and the clouds parted, affording us stunning views of snow-capped mountains, rushing streams and tumbling waterfalls.

The Rocky Mountaineer, a private company that began service in 1990, offers two classes of service, Redleaf and Goldleaf. Figuring this was a once-in-a-lifetime trip, we sprang for the Goldleaf service. We were escorted to a two-level glass-dome car offering unobstructed views of the scenery.

Our two attendants, Matthew and Jonas, served us mimosas for an all-aboard toast. Then, we were invited downstairs to the cozy dining car, where we ate the aforementioned egg dishes (I also ordered some pancakes with blueberry compote as a chaser).

Our dome car was nearly full, carrying about 60 passengers from Australia, England, Scotland and Portugal, as well as an Israeli-born doctor and his wife, who now live in South Africa. There were only a few Americans on board. But in the small-world department, I discovered one of them had gone to grade school with my cousin in New Jersey!

Matthew and Jonas provided tour-guide commentary as well as great food and drink.

Before long, it was time for a gourmet lunch. I had wild mushroom chowder and slow-roasted Canadian bison.

As the afternoon warmed, we spent time in the fresh air on a covered platform at the rear of our car. Meanwhile, inside, Matthew, a witty, charming Canadian, and Jonas, an equally outgoing Brazilian, served us drinks and snacks and kept us informed about the geography and the history of the region we were traversing.

The train doesn’t travel at night, allowing guests to enjoy as much of the scenery as possible. So we spent the night at the Comfort Inn in Kamloops, a bustling town in a rocky area of British Columbia reminiscent of the American Southwest.

It was all aboard again at 7:30 a.m. the following morning. We had two more fabulous meals and laughed continuously at Matthew’s clever commentary. The scenery the second day was just as spectacular as on the first, but more of the river-canyon variety than of purple mountain peaks.

Just before we arrived in Vancouver at 5 p.m., Matthew invited the participants in a poetry contest to come forward. The day before, he had suggested we write a few lines about the train trip. I wasn’t going to participate, but my sister, Sarah, and my friend, Barby, insisted I come up with something.

To be frank, I was quite pleased with my output (“We dined on omelettes and beef/I loosened my belt for relief”), and figured I was a cinch to get the gold pin prize. There were only three entries, and the first guy’s poem was rather lame. Mine was greeted with laughter and applause (though not as much as I had expected), and I sat back to listen to the final poet.

I knew I was in trouble when he started speaking in a Scottish brogue. Worse, his poem had 12 stanzas, each more clever than the last. When he rhymed Kamloops with “hot soups” I knew I was finished. My luck to be up against Robert Browning.

I hoped Matthew would be diplomatic. But, no, he said, “There’s obviously no doubt who the winner is.”

Oh, well, I may not have the gold pin, but I do have memories of a glorious train ride that I’ll never forget.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Beautiful Banff

Never-ending views and not too many tourists here in the heart of the Rockies.

By Charlie Huisking

You have to love a town where the streets are named Buffalo, Muskrat, Otter and Lynx.

That's the case in Banff, the tourist center of the Canadian Rockies for more than a century.

Banff was our base for our final two days in the Rockies, before we boarded a train for a spectacular two-day journey to Vancouver (more about that in my next blog).

Banff is surrounded by dramatic, craggy peaks, from Mt. Rundle to the south to Mount Cascade, which seems to pop out of the blacktop at the northern end of Banff Avenue, the main drag.

Fireside chat: Barby and I warm up at the Rimrock Resort.

If that weren't enough, the Bow River runs right through the heart of town.

In July and August, the streets are clogged with tourists from around the world. The congestion will be even worse than normal this summer, as Banff Avenue is torn up for the installation of underground utility lines.

In early June, though, the crowds were manageable. The wait was only a few minutes for breakfast at Melissa's Misteak. Despite the cutesy name, it's a delightful, homey spot for all-day dining. Don't miss the Swiss-style apple pancakes.

The view of Banff from the gondola.

I don't understand why people would come to a gorgeous place like Banff and shop, but they do. Banff Avenue is lined with not only t-shirt shops and souvenir shops, but also high-priced jewelry stores and high-end art galleries.

You'll also find businesses offering heli-hiking trips, horseback rides, white-water rafting and wildlife treks.

If you're feeling more sedentary, take the Banff Gondola to the top of 7,000-foot-high Sulphur Mountain, where the views are spectacular, even on a cloudy day.

Even people who don't stay at the Fairmount Banff Springs hotel make sure to visit the castle-like structure. Built by the Canadian Pacific Railroad, it's been welcoming guests since 1888.

We had a meal and late-night coffee there, but it attracts too many tourists and conventioneers for me to consider staying there. We stayed further out of town at the stunning Rimrock Resort. Though contemporary in style, its public rooms are done in dark woods and rich fabrics. The hotel is built into the side of a mountain, so the views from all nine floors are terrific.

There's a giant fireplace in the lobby that holds wood stacked several levels high. It wasn't lit on our final night, but the staff happily struck a match when we asked. A good thing, too, since a storm moved in a half-hour later and the hotel, as well as the rest of Banff, briefly lost power.

You feel a million miles from the rest of the world in a spot like this. But we were quickly brought back to reality. A lovely young woman and her daughters started chatting with us by the fire. It turned out her husband was serving with the Canadian forces in Afghanistan. Suddenly, her cell phone rang. "Excuse me, it's him," she said.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Swiss Bliss

Luxuriating in the Rockies at the Swiss-owned Post Hotel Lake Louise.

By Charlie Huisking

I got to practice my German during my visit to the Canadian Rockies.

For two wonderful days, our headquarters was the Swiss-owned Post Hotel Lake Louise. This comfortably elegant inn is known for its warm ambiance and for the impeccable service of its mostly European staff.

For good reasons, it's one of only a handful of Canadian properties in the prestigious Relais & Chateaux association.

Its 62 rooms and 34 suites are located in the main building (a renovated and expanded former ski lodge that dates to 1942), and in attractive cabins that line a rushing stream.

The buildings, all with distinctive red tin roofs, are constructed in log-and-beam style. Our room for three was in the main building and had 550 square feet of charm, with two bathrooms, including one with a Jacuzzi tub, a wood-burning fireplace, and an upstairs loft with a king bed. Our balcony overlooked the cabins, the stream and the snow-capped mountains beyond.

The Post Hotel is a couple of miles away from the fabled Lake Louise. But I vastly prefer it to the immense Chateau Lake Louise at the water's edge. There, the lobby is choked with gawkers who emerge from tour buses all day long. By contrast, I spent a serene afternoon in the Post's lobby, sitting in an overstuffed chair while I sipped coffee and sampled the pastries in the daily tea service.

The atmosphere reminded me of some of the cozy inns and gasthauses I stayed in while hiking through Austria and Switzerland during college. (The Post isn't on a backpacker's budget, though; rooms start at $320 a night).

We didn't eat dinner in the inn's renowned restaurant. But we hung out often by the fire (and under the head of a stuffed moose) in the cozy cocktail lounge, where Axel, the affable young German bartender, greeted us warmly and practiced his English.

I swam in the hotel's glass-enclosed pool, worked out in the fitness room, and, after a morning hike, got a hot-stone massage in the Temple Mountain Spa.

Even with so much gorgeous scenery beckoning, The Post made the great indoors seem as inviting as the great outdoors.

For information about the hotel, go to www.posthotel.com.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Secret Splendor

We discover a stunning lake in the Canadian Rockies.

By Charlie Huisking

Everybody who visits the Canadian Rockies stops at Lake Louise. But many tourists fail to drive eight more miles up a twisting mountain road to the even more spectacular Moraine Lake.

Filled with turquoise water that gleams in the sun, Moraine Lake is much smaller than its more famous counterpart. But its remote, dramatic setting accounts for the almost spiritual pull it has on people—well, certainly on me.

Ten mountain peaks, each more than 10,000 feet high, rise dramatically from the far shore. The scene is so stunning that, for many years, it was depicted on the back of Canada's $20 bill. Queen Elizabeth has that honor now. No offense, Liz, but I don't think that's an improvement.

You won't find a sprawling hotel like Chateau Lake Louise at Moraine Lake. Instead, you can stay at the cozy Moraine Lake Lodge. You can choose from simply but comfortably furnished rooms in the main lodge, or one of the one-bedroom cabins that are only a few feet from the lake.

My cabin had a king-sized bed, a sunken living area with a working fireplace, and a balcony overlooking the lake. After the day tourists have pulled out of the Moraine Lake parking lot in the late afternoon, lodge guests have this gorgeous spot to themselves. It was thrilling to walk along the lake at midnight, looking at the stars twinkle over the mountains.

By early the next morning, the parking lot was full again, and visitors were climbing the rockpile, a mound of giant boulders that were deposited on the shore of the lake in the Ice Age. A 15-minute hike brings you to the top, where the view of the water, the mountains and the canoists far below is fantastic.

Me with my friend, Barby, inside a cabin at the Moraine Lake Lodge.

Me at Moraine Lake.

I sat atop the rockpile for a couple of hours, listening to visitors from Italy, Spain, England, Australia, Japan, India and the United States marvel at the sight. Many of them asked me to take a picture of their group.

One young woman started to walk down the hill, but then returned. "I had to take one more look," she said. "It's like you want to burn this sight into your mind so you never forget it."

I feel the same way.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Rocky Mountain High

Cozy charm and luxury at the Post Hotel Lake Louise.

By Charlie Huisking

Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada. During the height of the summer tourist season, nearly 10,000 visitors a day come to gaze at the turquoise waters of glacier-fed Lake Louise, nestled in the mountains about 40 minutes north of Banff.

Most overnight guests stay at Chateau Lake Louise, the massive, 400-room hotel run by the Fairmont company. It's an impressive place, with a huge lobby with picture windows offering a dazzling view of the scenery. A harp player in Victorian costume entertains.

But with busloads of tourists wandering through all day, the chateau is hardly an intimate place to stay.

That's why I choose the Post Hotel Lake Louise, about a mile away from the lake, but still surrounded by gorgeous snow-capped mountains. Owned by two Swiss brothers, the inn has the flavor of a cozy European hotel. The main lodge, built in traditional log-and-beam style, has a variety of accommodations. Our suite, warmly decorated in pine furniture and rich upholstery in brown, green and red hues, had two bathrooms, a single bed downstairs and a double in the loft. The best features were a working fireplace and a balcony overlooking the rushing stream that ran along some adjacent cabins.

The inn has a spacious fitness room, an indoor pool, and a spa where I had a wonderful hot stone massage after a hike to a waterfall.

Tea and cakes were served in the cozy lobby each afternoon. At cocktail time, we gathered by the fire in the lounge, where we stared at a moose head above the flickering flames. The charming German bartender, Axel, was one of many European-trained staff members at the inn.

We didn't eat dinner at the inn's highly praised restaurant, one of the few in western Canada admitted into the the French Relais & Chateaux society. But the pancakes we had there for breakfast were made to fluffy perfection.

The Post Inn is the kind of place you hate to leave in the morning, even though the wonders of the Rockies await you

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Emergency in Calgary

Our trip to Vancouver starts off with a medical adventure.

By Charlie Huisking

Vancouver, British Columbia, June 19. When I planned this trip to the Canadian Rockies and Vancouver, I told my editor that I'd focus in my blog on some of the unique inns and resorts where I'd be relaxing between hikes and whale-watching expeditions.

Little did I know that, initially at least, I'd be spending more time in Canadian emergency rooms than in cozy fireside lounges.

My friend, Barby, and I left Tampa for Calgary last week. At the Calgary airport, we met my sister, Sarah, who had traveled from Atlanta. I noticed immediately at baggage claim that Sarah was hobbling. I remembered she'd told me a cut foot had become infected, but that she'd had it treated at an Atlanta quick-care center.

Well, when we got to our Calgary hotel room, I was freaked to see the foot was red and swollen to Elephant Man proportions. The next morning, we drove to a Calgary quick-care center. The doctor there suspected a staph infection, and directed us immediately to the emergency room of a Calgary hospital.

There, Sarah received a thorough examination and an I.V. treatment of a powerful drug. Though our emergency room stay lasted four hours, I was impressed with the efficiency and friendliness of the staff. The doctor was patient and happy to answer every question. Familiar with the Canadian Rockies, he even gave us some sightseeing tips.

The only major downside of the experience was Vomit Girl, an unfortunate young woman in the waiting room who had the dry heaves for, oh, a couple of hours.

The good news for us was that Sarah got the doctor's OK to travel north. The bad news: She would have to receive five more I.V. treatments during the next three days. The treatments were administered at the hospital in Banff, the Canadian Rockies' main tourist center. Unfortunately, we were staying 35 miles north, at an inn in Lake Louise.

Grizzly seen: Our first look at a grizzly bear was from a major highway.

But we turned those twice-a-day drives into wildlife expeditions. We took the Bow Valley Parkway, a slower, more scenic alternative to the main highway between Lake Louise and Banff. And each time we traveled, we encountered deer, elk and bighorn sheep. On one drive, we took the main highway to save time, but even this trip proved rewarding. I saw about 15 cars pulled to the side of the road ahead, and figured this had to mean a bear sighting. Sure enough, we spotted a grizzly and two cubs wandering in the grass alongside the road. Fortunately, a fence separated us from the bears.

In my next blog, I'll actually tell you about some of those wonderful inns.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Primal Norton

A revealing conversation with the star of The Painted Veil at the Historic Asolo.

By Charlie Huisking

During a fascinating conversation at the Historic Asolo on Sunday, actor Edward Norton was praised for choosing to portray complicated characters in challenging, out –of-the-mainstream films.

“I think that’s an extremely nice way of saying that I’ve been in a lot of movies that didn’t do very well,” a grinning Norton said.

Edward Norton

The remark drew laughter and applause from a capacity audience that braved tornado warnings and heavy rain to attend the 11 a.m. lecture. It was sponsored by the Sarasota Film Festival.

The audience was rewarded with a witty and illuminating discussion in the intimate Asolo. During the hour-long session, Norton did dead-on impersonations of Woody Allen and Marlon Brando (both of whom he has worked with), referenced philosopher Joseph Campbell, and even slipped in a funny anecdote about Paul Muni, an actor from Hollywood’s golden age.

An Oscar nominee for Primal Fear, Norton was joined on stage by writer-producer Brian Koppelman, his collaborator on such films as Rounders and The Illusionist.

Norton said he thinks good actors can be divided into a couple of categories.

“Some are more iconic,” he said. “They fit into a certain set of characters. For example, Harrison Ford, who is such a good actor, embodies something for us. It’s easy for him to stand for a certain set of qualities in films.

“Other actors are more shape-shifters. They step into different skins. And I think I fit better into that category. I like to do different things. What’s fun about this job is that you are in effect given a skeleton key that lets you into different worlds, from the world of poker (in Rounders) to the world of 19^th-century magic (The Illusionist). It allows you to get a continuing education in life.”

.Norton said those unfamiliar with the movie business might be surprised by how frustrating it can be to get a project made. “Four out of five things that you are interested in never happen,” he said.

Norton had been working on his latest film, The Painted Veil, since 1997. “Sometimes you just have to keep working at it, have faith and wait for the right confluence of forces,” he said.

For me, these question-and-answer sessions with actors and directors are an essential and exciting part of the festival experience. Sadly, I won’t be able to attend any more this year, as I’m headed out of town. But you can catch Norman Jewison, Steve Buscemi, Marcia Gay Harden and Joe Pantaliano at the Historic Asolo later this week.

Doing Time

Mixed reviews for Prisoner—and the party that followed.

By Charlie Huisking

April 14. Local filmmakers were in the spotlight on the second night of the Sarasota Film Festival. Sam Logan, a Sarasota resident, and Steve Matzkin, from Tampa, are the executive producers of the taut drama Prisoner.

Julian McMahon, who plays the randy plastic surgeon in Nip/Tuck, here stars as an egotistical director who gets more than he bargained for when he scouts for locations at an abandoned prison.

The film was handsomely shot, and McMahon and co-star Elias Koteas give riveting performances in what is essentially a two-character story. This is one of those movies where nothing is exactly what it seems. But the secret that is revealed at the film’s conclusion felt like an anti-climax to me.

McMahon was shooting another film, so he couldn’t make the screening or the party afterward at the Lake Club at Lakewood Ranch. But the affable Koteas was there, as was Dagmara Dominiczyk, who has a small supporting role.

But the evening’s big star was Oscar nominee Edward Norton, who was honored at the party not only for his screen work, but for his philanthropy—specifically his work on behalf of Hurricane Katrina victims.

The party itself got decidedly mixed reviews from those in attendance. The setting was the Lake Club’s Showcase Circle, a row of grandiose model homes that surround a small lake. To me, it looked like the lakeside international promenade at Disney’s EPCOT Center. Only here, the foreign country was Millionaire-world.

“This is like Wisteria Lane on steroids,” one guest remarked.

The party featured another spectacular buffet of pasta dishes, seafood and, my favorite, a huge table dedicated to chocolate desserts. But energy was missing in the crowd, and it seemed more about selling real estate than celebrating movies.

I heard one woman ask her date what films Edward Norton had been in. An older man suggested he might be “the guy who was on The Honeymooners.” (That was actually Art Carney, who played a sanitation worker named Ed Norton).

Getting into the party was like going through airport security. And getting out was even more complicated. The valet parking crew apparently put the wrong tags on some keys, causing a backup until things got sorted out. Then, the fire marshal stopped traffic across a bridge until a fireworks display concluded, causing even more congestion.

Moonstruck

The Sarasota Film Festival lifts off in style.

By Charlie Huisking

April 13. The 2007 Sarasota Film Festival got off to a soaring start on Friday night with a Van Wezel screening of In the Shadow of the Moon, an account of the Apollo space program.

It was the first time that the nine-year-old festival has opened with a documentary. Kudos to Executive Director Jody Kielbasa and other festival leaders for making the bold choice, even though that meant there were fewer Hollywood stars to gawk at on the red carpet.

I mean, former astronaut Edgar Mitchell, who is interviewed in the film, made for a distinguished opening-night guest. But he didn't exactly get the paparazzi going crazy.

British director David Sington was thrilled by the sold-out audience's enthusiastic reaction to the film, which focuses on the humanity of the astronauts, not the science or technology involved in the journey to the moon.

Astronaut Edgar Mitchell came to Sarasota for the opening night's In the Shadow of the Moon.

"When people started applauding during the movie, not just at the closing credits, that was pretty terrific," Sington said afterward at a party in the Ringling Museum of Art courtyard.

As I am every year, I was dazzled by the courtyard setting. More than 1,000 guests had lots of room to mingle amidst the statues and the fountains. The generous buffet spread included pasta dishes, sushi, shrimp and lamb chops. Backed by a small band, recording artist Matt Dusk, a winner of the Canadian version of American Idol, gave an updated twist to some old standards.

Some Hollywood stars were on hand, including Elias Koteas, a lead actor in the second night's film, Prisoner. An actress in that film, Dagmara Dominiczyk, also attended the party, along with her actor husband, Patrick Wilson.

Wilson's career has skyrocketed since his moving performance as a gay Mormon in the HBO version of Angels in America four years ago. He's starred on Broadway in
Oklahoma!, appeared in the film version of Phantom of the Opera, and last year starred opposite Kate Winslet in the disturbing drama Little Children.

But he may be best-known locally as the successful son of John Wilson, the veteran anchorman for FOX 13 in Tampa.

The handsome Wilson was gracious and patient, even when an SNN film crew had technical problems and made him and his wife wait for 15 minutes before going on the air.

But he made it clear he was here to support Dominiczyk, not to take the limelight away from her.

All in all, it was a grand night. The only thing missing was a full moon.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Pilgrimage to Dodgertown

An icon of baseball history is about to vanish.

By Charlie Huisking

Even though major-league baseball’s regular season is only a few days old, I’m sure I’ve already experienced my baseball highlight of the year. Last month, I made a pilgrimage to Dodgertown on Florida’s east coast.

The Dodgers’ logo behind home plate at Holman Stadium.

OK, you won’t really find the name Dodgertown on any Florida map. I actually traveled to Vero Beach, where Dodgertown, the 450-acre spring- training headquarters of the Los Angeles Dodgers, is located.

I’ve been a Dodger fan since I was a kid. Not because of any fondness for L.A., but because my father once pitched briefly in the minor leagues for the Dodgers, when the team was still in Brooklyn.

As we played catch in the backyard, my father would tell me stories about Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, Gil Hodges and the other stars from the ‘40s and ‘50s, when the Dodgers seemed to meet the New York Yankees in the World Series every other year.

Though I’d never been to Dodgertown, I’d read countless articles describing the idyllic scene at the former naval base that Dodger owner Walter O’Malley purchased in 1948. Unlike most spring-training complexes, it has a college campus atmosphere, encompassing not only a stadium and practice fields but apartments, a restaurant, a pool and a golf course.

In March, I got a call from Gregory Enns, a former colleague from the Herald-Tribune who now publishes Indian River magazine. He had shocking news: The Dodgers are leaving Vero Beach next year to move to a new spring-training complex in Arizona. Greg wanted me to write a feature about their impending departure.

As soon as I arrived, I was surrounded by legendary names and faces. Black-and-white photos of Robinson, Hodges, Pee Wee Reese and other stars from Brooklyn days hang in the team’s spring-training offices. The streets that run along the practice facilities and the apartments are named for the likes of former stars like Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale.

Some of the legends were standing right in front of me. Maury Wills, the electrifying shortstop who set a major-league stolen base record in 1962, was giving bunting tips on one lush green field. On another, retired Hall-of-Fame manager Tommy Lasorda, who once famously said that “I bleed Dodger blue,” was cracking jokes and offering unsolicited advice.

Luis Gonzalez signs autographs for fans by a practice field at Dodgertown

“Hey, Gonzo,” Lasorda shouted to Luis Gonzalez, a veteran signed by the team over the winter. “You ought to be down on your knees thanking God that you are finally a Dodger.”

A laughing Gonzalez nodded as he signed autographs for dozens of fans lined up near the batting cage. I was impressed to see that Gonzalez took time to have a brief conversation with every fan. “Oh, you’re from San Antonio? I love it there,” he told one visitor from Texas. “How old is your son?” he asked one father holding a toddler in a tiny Dodgers’ uniform. Another fan told Gonzalez he hoped he hit 35 home runs this year.

Batting cage: Hall of Fame manager Tommy Lasorda, far left, returns to Dodgertown for spring training.

“Only 35? I was hoping for 45 or 50,” joked the 39-year-old Gonzalez, who only managed to hit 15 for the Arizona Diamondbacks last year.

By noon, the practice fields had emptied, and the players and fans moved to cozy Holman Stadium, where the worst seat is only 17 rows from the field. Uniquely in all of baseball, the dugouts in the park have no roofs. That tradition dates back to owner O’Malley, who wanted the players to be in full view of the fans.

It’s easy to pose with players at the Dodgers’ open-air dugouts.

“We love this park because it’s so intimate,” said Bill McNutt, a Melbourne resident who was with his son, Judd. “It’s so easy for Judd to get autographs.”

There is talk that the city will try to lure another team to replace the Dodgers. McNutt said he’ll try to support them, “but it will be hard. Once you give your allegiance to somebody else for so long, it’s tough.”

The crowd was good-natured and enthusiastic, but only about 4,500 of the 6,500 seats were filled for this game against the Minnesota Twins. The Dodgers figure to draw larger crowds in Arizona, which is just a short flight from their vast Los Angeles fan base. The club is the only West Coast team that still trains in Florida, and Dodger officials say few fans make the trip to Vero Beach from L.A.

But I found one who was hard to miss. Los Angeles resident Jon Didier was wearing a blue-and-white wig and a “Think Blue” shirt his wife had made out of a Dodgers’ beach towel. The Didiers have spent two weeks in Vero Beach watching the Dodgers every year since 1998. “The complex is so beautiful, and you’re so close to the players that they come to recognize you after a while,” Didier said. “And we’ve met so many nice people who live here.”

Maury Wills is going to miss the locals, too. “People are so nice, from the fans to the groundspeople to the maintenance guys,” said Wills, who at 64 still looks fit and agile enough to swipe second base.

Wills’ first spring training at Dodgertown was in 1951. “My salary was $135 a month, and meal money was $1.25 a day,” he said. “We slept eight players to a room in the old naval barracks, and there was no heat and air conditioning.

“And you know what? It was the greatest experience of my life, and I would do it again.”

The barracks have long since been replaced by garden apartments. Few of the team’s regulars stay there now. They rent expensive homes on the beach or in golf communities. But the minor-leaguers, and coaches like Wills, still eat, sleep and work at Dodgertown.

“I’m a traditionalist, and I don’t like change,” Wills said. “But you have to go along with change. One of those big changes will be going to Arizona. I’ll have to go along with it, and find a way to enjoy it.”

Jeff Torborg will never forget his first spring-training in Dodgertown, either. Now a Sarasota resident, Torborg started catching for the Dodgers in 1964. “I had gotten married the year before, and my wife was pregnant that first spring,” Torborg said. “So all those memories are part of the Dodgertown experience for me.

“And because of the Dodger tradition, you did feel as if you were part of a big family that went back generations. Roy Campanella [the Dodgers’ Hall-of-Fame catcher in the ‘50s] was in camp sharing his experience, and people like Wills and Drysdale and Koufax couldn’t have been more welcoming to a young kid like me.

“I can still smell the orange blossoms from the orange grove that used to be part of the complex. And I remember there was a guy passing out fresh-squeezed orange juice to all the players. Those memories are so strong. For me, it was like a kick in the stomach when I heard the Dodgers were leaving Dodgertown.”

My trip to Dodgertown also included a night game against the Florida Marlins. Just before it started, I sat with Charley Steiner, the Dodgers’ broadcaster, on the green berm that rises behind the outfield fence. He merely pointed when I asked him to sum up the magic of Dodgertown.

“Just look,” he said, gesturing toward players who were casting immense shadows on the field as the sun set. Above the palm trees, puffy pink clouds floated by.

“There is a Field-of-Dreams quality about this place,” said Steiner, who is just old enough to have seen the Dodgers at Ebbets Field. “I have mixed emotions about the move, because I love the tradition here. But it makes sense from the Dodgers’ point of view. They do get closer to their fan base, and they’ll draw huge crowds in Arizona when they play the [San Francisco] Giants and the [Chicago] Cubs.”

But when the last bus pulls out of Dodgertown, “it’s going to be like the last helicopter out of Vietnam,” said Steiner, who quickly added that he “didn’t mean that on a proportional level of course.

“Look, reality tops sentimentality every time. The 21^st century has caught up with the 20^th century at Dodgertown.”

Thursday, January 25, 2007

In the Limelight

Sarasota’s film festival shines in the Sundance spotlight.

By Charlie Huisking

On my last day at the Sundance Film Festival, it was the Sarasota Film Festival that was making news.

The Sarasota fest is one of eight festivals from around the country that will be involved in a new filmmaker competition sponsored by Heineken beer and the movie magazine Premiere.

The competition was announced at a press conference featuring actor Dennis Hopper, who is considered a kind of godfather of independent film because of his connection to Easy Rider.

Sarasota will be in the company of festivals in such cities as Miami, Seattle, Las Vegas and San Diego in the program.

Taking a meeting: Paul Turcotte of Premiere, Dennis Hopper, a Heineken official and SFF's Jody Kielbasa

"We'll be taking some phenomenal festivals that tend to be regional in nature, and giving them national exposure," said Paul Turcotte, the publisher of Premiere. "In selecting the festivals, I also wanted to work with people whom I genuinely like, and who do great work."

Each festival in the program will be spotlighted in Premiere magazine.

Filmmakers in each festival will compete for the Heineken Red Star Award. It will be awarded on the basis of such criteria as innovation, originality and vision. All eight winners will be flown to Los Angeles, where their films will be screened before distributors and studio representatives.

"We are obviously honored to have been selected for this program," said Jody Kielbasa, executive director of the Sarasota festival. "It shows that we have achieved some traction, some notoriety. And it's nice to know that people think we have integrity, and that we're good to work with."

After the announcement, we moved to the sushi bar for an incredible spread, washed down with Heineken, of course.

But the best party on my final day was one thrown in a Main Street restaurant by the Sundance Channel. It was a crowded affair in a cozy room with a roaring fireplace. As you walked in, waitresses handed you Sundance Channel mugs filled with Jack Daniels and hot apple cider. As I savored my drink, I thought, "Wow, maybe I could handle this winter weather after all.”

Farewell, Sundance: A happy Kielbasa on

our last day at the festival.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Antonio's Journey

Antonio Banderas talks about his directorial debut at the Sundance Film Festival.

By Charlie Huisking

His black hair tied in a pony tail, Antonio Banderas drew cheers and a few adoring screams when he took the stage at Sundance Monday night to introduce Summer Rain. The Spanish-language film is the second directorial effort by the actor.

Spanish Charmer: Sundance fans were disarmed by Banderas' candor about his new Summer Rain

A meditative coming of age story set in 1970s, Franco-era Spain, it is based on a novel. Banderas said he was drawn to the story because it reminded him of his youth in his native country. The film had a poetic, darkly lyrical nature and featured gorgeous cinematography. But the plot was at times confusing, as were some of the characters' motivations.

"I know I have not made a perfect film, I can see some of the flaws myself," the disarming Banderas said. "But I wasn't worried about the critics, or even the respect of my colleagues. I made this to learn more about who I am as I director. It's part of a journey."

Banderas answered dozens of questions from audience members afterward. At one point, he apologized for being long-winded and noted that "the wine I had during the screening was wonderful." A minute later, he answered a question posed in Spanish by a journalist. Banderas momentarily forgot to translate his answer.

"Sorry. The wine was Burgundy," he said. "Mmm."

Monday, January 22, 2007

Grace in the Morning

An 8:30 a.m. screening at Sundance gets major buzz.

By Charlie Huisking

Where do 2,000 people turn out for a movie at 8:30 a.m. on a 14-degree morning? At the Sundance Film Festival, particularly when the film is Grace is Gone, the movie that's generating the most buzz at this year's event.

Almost famous! That's me with a Park City icon.

Starring John Cusack, the film is about a husband who learns that his wife has been killed while serving in the army in Iraq. Instead of telling his two daughters, he packs them in his car for a road trip in an attempt to preserve their innocence as long as possible.

Cusack received a prolonged and emotional standing ovation for his understated performance following the screening. The film was quickly snapped up by Harvey Weinstein, the former Miramax Studio mogul who now runs his own Weinstein company. He reportedly made the deal at 4:30 a.m. in a Park City condo.

Sarasota Film Festival officials who are in Sundance were also impressed. They're hoping to land Grace is Gone for the Sarasota festival in April.

Later on Monday, I joined Executive Director Jody Kielbasa at a sushi and beer party in the Heineken tent. It was sponsored by the Creative Coalition, a group of Hollywood actors, writers and producers with a social conscience.

One of the members is Joe Pantoliano, the former Sopranos star who was at last year's Sarasota Festival. He greeted Jody warmly and told me he felt the Sarasota festival "had the kind of positive feeling and spirit that Sundance did 15 years ago. I really feel Sarasota is poised to be one of the best festivals around."

Good fella: Joe Pantoliano of Sopranos fame praised the Sarasota Film Festival over sushi and beer.

Pantoliano said he's eager to return to the festival, even though "I hate Florida. But Sarasota and Longboat Key are beautiful. They are the only places I would go."

Peek Experiences

Star-spotting at Sundance.

By Charlie Huisking

Celebrities are flying by faster than the snowflakes here in chilly Park City, site of the 2007 Sundance Film Festival.

I just spent the last hour doing my best imitation of a paparazzi, snapping pictures of Teri Hatcher, Kyra Sedgwick, Molly Shannon and Paul Rudd as they picked up some swag bags at the Heineken Green Room.

My new best friend : Teri Hatcher signs autographs for fans.

Last night, I listened to Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney introduce their new movie, The Savages, and then watched Catherine Keener, James Franco and Bradley Whitford take the stage for the premiere of their new film, An American Crime.

Later tonight, I'll be there when Anthony Hopkins introduces his first directorial effort, Slipstream.

Clearly, it's not just the high altitude in this old mining town that causes you to become dizzy. The pace is unrelenting, with screenings starting early and continuing past midnight at Park City's various venues, which range from cozy theaters to a 2,500-seat high-school auditorium.

In The Savages, Hoffman and Linney play a brother and sister who must suddenly care for an aging parent. It's a smartly written, touching and funny film, my clear favorite so far. Director Tamara Jenkins said the film was finished only two days before Friday's world premiere. And how important is a showcase at Sundance? Well, Hoffman flew in from Australia two hours before the screening, and Linney came all the way from Argentina, where she was shooting her next film.

I've been shadowing Sarasota Film Festival Executive Director Jody Kielbasa, who is here to do some networking and watch as many movies as possible. Jody invited me to accompany him to a late-night party sponsored by Premiere magazine, which had taken over a restaurant on Historic Main Street for the occasion.

When we got there, two burly security guys were informing a line of would-be guests that the room was too crowded, and nobody else would be admitted.

"But we're with the Italian press, and we're on the list," a wavy-haired young man implored. "I don't care, buddy, you're not gettin' in," the guard said.

Another man dropped a name and pressed his case, but the guard shook his head. "They hire us because we're ignorant," he said. "We don't know how important anybody is, so those names mean nothing to us."

But Jody was undeterred. He worked some cell-phone magic, and soon, the publisher of Premiere himself (who had been to the Sarasota festival last year) came down and waved us in. The Italian press guys seethed with envy, and I felt like I was in a scene from HBO's Entourage.

I must say I don't always feel so cool and hip at this festival. Like every other credentialed member of the press or the film industry, I wear a big badge around my neck, which has my picture, my name and my affiliation.

Whenever you enter a room, people are subtly checking you out, to see if you are an important critic worth schmoozing or a film distributor who could turn your life around. Dozens of times, I've seen flickers of disappointment cross people's faces when they check out my badge. I guess "Charlie Huisking, SARASOTA magazine" just doesn't do it for them." Oh, well, Teri Hatcher was nice enough to stop and pose while I figured out how to work my brand new digital camera.

Snow on the Mountains, Swag on the Streets

Reporting from the Sundance Film Festival in Park City.

By Charlie Huisking

When you're watching a screening at the Sundance Film Festival, you have to worry about things you don't need to consider at the Sarasota Film Festival.

Like, where are my gloves and cap? I think they fell under the seat and the guy next to me kicked them.

Also, fitting into the seat with the Michelin Man-sized ski parka I borrowed can be difficult. And during some opening credits, I'm still stamping my feet so the feeling will return in my toes.

For a Florida boy, though, I think I'm adjusting pretty well to the Park City, Utah, weather, which has been sunny but very cold for most of the week. By cold I mean lows about 7 or 8, and highs in the 20s.

That's particularly daunting in the mornings, when I catch the shuttle outside the condo I'm staying in on the outskirts of town. It belongs to some friends who, smartly, are in their winter home in Naples this time of year. They were kind enough to invite me to stay in their comfortable home, which looks out at the snow-capped Wasatch mountain range.

Main event: Looking down Main Street, where sponsors set up tents during the festival and skiers mingle with film fans and celebs.

Thank God they did, because you need to book hotels or condos months in advance. And during the festival, rates start at $300 a night and escalate to $700 at the posh Stein Erickson Lodge.

Because of the weather, this is a decidedly dressed-down festival. Everybody is wearing jeans, parkas, long scarves and funny hats. Now, you will find some women in what I'd call slutty starlet attire at some of the parties. But there's not a tuxedo in sight.

I love the atmosphere in Park City. It's particularly fun to stroll down Historic Main Street, with its brightly colored 19^th-century buildings, which now house cafes, vintage clothing stores, sushi restaurants and boutiques.

At some intersections, tents have been set up, where festival sponsors pass out free stuff, ranging from shoes and hats to computer gear. There's a ski lift that ends right in the center of Main Street, so it's common to see skiers and snowboarders trudging down the sidewalk next to film crews from CNN and Access Hollywood.

Celebrity central is the Heineken Green Room at the lower end of the street, where stars come by for their gift bags. Yesterday, 50 photographers and three times as many onlookers converged on the spot to see Teri Hatcher, Kyra Sedgwick and the other actors I mentioned in a previous blog.

All this celebrity mania is a sore spot for the organizers of Sundance.

They are sensitive to criticism that the event has become too Hollywood and has strayed from Robert Redford's original intentions. A visit by Paris Hilton last year was considered a Sundance nadir.

So this year, Sundance volunteers are passing out "Focus on Film" buttons, which seems as stupid an idea as Jerry Ford's "Whip Inflation Now" buttons in the '70s. If you really have to remind Sundance audiences to focus on film, something's very wrong.

Of course, the essence of Sundance still survives. Most of the filmmakers here are unknowns creating innovative, far-from-the mainstream works. But the cheapening of Sundance is definitely something to worry about. In fact, I heard a horrible rumor that Britney Spears was here at a party last night.

Friday, January 19, 2007

Hello, Park City--and Robert Redford

Reporting from the Sundance Film Festival on Friday, Jan. 19.

Robert Redford helped get the 2007 Sundance Film Festival off to a passionately political start last night.

Seeing Red-ford: Sundance festival founder Robert Redford
introduced the opening- night film, Chicago 10, a
documentary about protestors during the Vietnam War, with
some heated remarks about the war in Iraq.

The president and founder of the Sundance Institute, Redford introduced the opening-night film, the documentary Chicago 10. The film deals with the Vietnam War protesters who were prosecuted for leading a massive anti-war rally in Chicago during the 1968 Democratic convention.

Debuting only a week after President Bush announced a "surge' of American forces in Iraq, the film couldn't have been more timely.

"This film is about another time when young people raised their voices in protest of what they felt was wrong and put themselves in harm's way," Redford said from the stage of the 2,500-seat Eccles Theater in Park city, Utah.

Winter magic: It wasn't snowing today in downtown Park City, but the streets were jammed with film lovers, industry insiders and a scattering of celebrities.

Redford noted that six years ago, after 9-11, he stood on the same stage and pledged support in a time of healing. "Some of us who had issues or questions, we put our voices on hold in the interest of unity...Now we can reflect on that. I'll leave it to you to decide how you feel about it, but I think we are owed a big, massive apology."

The sold-out audience erupted in applause.

I got to Park City, a cozy ski resort about 30 minutes up the mountain from Salt Lake City, later than expected yesterday. My Delta flight sat on the tarmac in Atlanta for two and a half hours because of an ice storm.

The weather here, though, is sunny and gorgeous, with temps in the 30s. I just grabbed lunch and walked Historic Main Street with Jody Kielbasa, the executive director of the Sarasota Film Festival. He and several other Sarasota fest staffers are in town to do some networking and to attend screenings of films they hope to bring to Sarasota in April.

In fact, earlier this morning, Jody and I watched Away From Her, a poignant film about Alzheimer’s, starring Julie Christie. Jody plans to show it at the Sarasota Festival.

Tonight I’m going to a public screening of another film. The press usually watches the films in smaller venues, but I want to see what the crowd and the atmosphere are like at the public screening. More about that in my next post.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Shipboard Romance

How do I love the Crystal Serenity? Let me count the ways.

By Charlie Huisking

As the Crystal Serenity pulled out of Antigua just before sunset on Tuesday, a recording of Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World began playing on the Lido Deck. The song is played as the Serenity leaves every port, and the moment never fails to get me. The song crystallizes, if you’ll pardon the pun, the experience of seeing new places and meeting new people on an extraordinary ship.

Top team: Our waiters, Taner and Fehmi, serving the
Grand Buffet Brunch on a sea day.

Part of what makes Crystal so extraordinary is the company’s level of service. The hard-working crew members are attentive, enthusiastic and friendly, without being obsequious. They come from all over the world, and are eager to talk about their home countries. Our waiter, Taner, and his assistant, Fehmi, are from Turkey; and our butler, Simon, is from South Africa. In the bars, shops and restaurants, you’ll meet staff members from throughout Europe, South America, India and the Philippines.

The crew seems to enjoy Crystal as much as the passengers do, because the company has probably the lowest turnover rate in the industry. You encounter many of the same crew members year after year, and renewing those acquaintances becomes part of the fun.

On this final blog from this trip, I want to quickly mention some of my favorite spaces on board this ship. Last night, we returned for the second time to one of the Serenity’s two specialty restaurants, The Silk Road. It features the cuisine of celebrity chef Nobu Matsuhisa.

The first time, I had the Nobu Box, a sampling of three entrees: grilled Wagyu beef, stir-fried lobster and Nobu-style black cod. Last night, I had the scrumptious cod alone. Our waiter also prepared some special appetizers and a selection of sushi. And while you don’t often associate Asian restaurants with great desserts, the chocolate soufflé cake with sesame ice cream was hands-down the best dessert on the ship.

Say cheese: That's me posing stiffly in the Bistro Café.

On these last two sea days, I’ll be sure to hang out in the Bistro, a sleek coffee bar that also serves great pastries, cheeses and other snacks. I also love the panoramic views from the Palm Court, the site of daily afternoon teas. And because the Crystal’s Broadway-style productions in the Galaxy Lounge are so good, I never get to spend enough time in the Avenue Saloon, a cozy piano bar where David Williams plays Gershwin, Porter and other standards.

I also like the Crystal Cove, a cocktail lounge in the two-story atrium. The people-watching is so good, it’s like sitting in the lobby in Grand Hotel.

I don’t want you to think I’ll just be eating and drinking, though. My hedonism also encompasses the hot-stone massage I’ll have at 4 p.m. And I will log a few miles on the promenade deck. The Serenity is one of the few traditional-style ships that still has a full promenade deck. A mile is 3.3 times around, and it’s never more pleasurable than early in the morning, when we’re approaching an island.

I could go on, but I have a team trivia championship to defend at noon.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Shore Leave

A dream sail in Barbados, swimming with sea turtles—and the t-shirt in Aruba I decided not to buy.

By Charlie Huisking

I’ve just returned from the best shore excursion I’ve ever had in the

Caribbean: a five-hour sail on a catamaran out of Bridgetown, Barbados. Only about 20 guests from the Crystal Serenity signed up for the trip on the Spirit of Barbados. So we had plenty of room to spread out, while a four-member crew poured the rum punch and passed around homemade banana bread.

First, we made a snorkeling stop in a protected area for sea turtles. At one point during the swim, I was surrounded by eight of the lumbering, gentle creatures. We made a second stop along a coral reef, where hundreds of yellow-and-black-striped Sergeant Majors darted back and forth as if they were negotiating a 5 p.m. traffic jam.

Then we anchored off shore of the Sandy Lane hotel, the exclusive resort where Tiger Woods was married a couple of years ago.

Back on board the catamaran, the crew had prepared a lunch buffet of steak, chicken, shrimp, yellow rice and salad, topped off by cheesecake, chocolate cake and, of course, more rum punch.

Barbados was the fourth port on out 10-day Crystal Serenity voyage. Our first stop was Aruba, an arid, cactus-filled island that is best known to Americans these days as the place where college student Natalee Holloway disappeared. As it happened, one of the guest lecturers on this trip is Clint Van Zandt, the former FBI profiler and hostage negotiator, who has been a frequent television commentator on the Holloway case.

While wandering around the shops near the port, I came upon Carlos n’ Charley’s, the bar where Holloway was last seen before she disappeared. Since my sister always brings me t-shirts from every city she visits, I considered a Carlos n’Charley’s t-shirt as her Christmas present. But better judgment prevailed.

The next day, on lovely Bonaire, we snorkeled in turquoise-colored water along reefs teeming with more varieties of fish than I’d ever seen, from rainbow-hued parrotfish to a school of tiny fish that were half yellow, half Van Wezel-purple.

Yesterday, we hopped in a minivan for a tour of the rainforests of Grenada, an island that is still struggling to recover from a direct hit from Hurricane Ivan two years ago. Tomorrow, we visit Antigua, before spending two more days at sea on the way back to Miami.

We’ve met some great people on this trip, including two women from Sarasota whom I chatted up while walking my morning mile on the promenade deck, and Denise, an exhuberant Australian with a Dame Edna laugh. Many of these passengers are fiercely loyal Crystal cruisers. More than half of the 800 on board have taken at least one Crystal trip, and some have logged 30, 40 and even 100 voyages.

One 12-year-old who introduced himself in the fitness center told me he’d already been on 13 Crystal voyages, “to all of the continents.” I resisted the urge to knock him off his treadmill.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Serene on the Serenity

It’s the trip, not the destination.

By Charlie Huisking

When friends asked me what Caribbean ports I’d be visiting on the Crystal Serenity, I told them I had no idea.

That wasn’t really true. I knew we’d be sailing from Miami to Aruba, Bonaire, Grenada, Barbados and Antigua before returning to Miami 10 days later.

But on the Crystal Serenity, the voyage is definitely as important as the destination. This is my third time on this luxurious ship, which was christened by Julie Andrews in Southampton, England, in 2003. It’s my fifth time overall on the Crystal line, which consistently wins the Best Large Cruise Line award from Conde Nast Travel magazine.

And in this age of mega-ships, large is a relative term. Unlike some ships that carry 3,000 or 4,000 people, the Serenity’s capacity is only 1,080. And because the spacious, 820-foot-long ship has the best passenger/space ratio in the industry, you never feel crowded or find yourself waiting in long lines. In fact, there are so many cozy, inviting public rooms, so much deck space, you can easily spend your time in blissful solitude.

That’s how I spent most of the first of two sea days after leaving Miami. I ordered room service breakfast, and read on the verandah of my penthouse level suite, which comes complete with a tuxedoed butler. OK, I did have to share Simon, a gregarious South African native, with several other cabins.

But I’m not complaining

At noon on day one, my companion, Jeff, and I attended the Team Trivia contest in one of the ship’s lounges. We had learned on previous trips that this is a great way to meet people early in the voyage. Even though you’re playing only for a set of Crystal coasters or some such prize, the game can get quite competitive. I’m afraid we cheered a bit too loudly when our six-person team finished first (this was despite me insisting that a movie made from a Stephen King short story was Lean on Me, when , of course, it’s actually, Stand by Me.)

When I was younger, I took cruises every year with my parents, and always dreaded sea days. But at this stage of my life, and amidst the hypnotically relaxing atmosphere of the Serenity, I love them. I got up early the second sea day for a Tai Chi class, took a deep tissue massage in the wonderful, Feng Shui-designed spa, and attended a health and fitness talk by a guest lecturer from the Cleveland Clinic.

More industrious passengers were taking keyboard classes or Spanish classes as part of Crystal’s on-board educational program, the Creative Learning Institute.

We’ll be docking in Aruba tomorrow morning, so I’ll somehow have to force myself to get off. More later.

Monday, December 11, 2006

BUS-ted!

I had planned to board a luxury liner. Instead, I was riding the Greyhound to Miami.

By Charlie Huisking

For a guy who left the Sarasota Herald-Tribune in September in part to become a travel writer, I found myself in an embarrassing position earlier this month.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, a friend and I booked a 10-day cruise on the luxurious Crystal Serenity (www.crystalserenity.com). The round-trip Caribbean voyage from Miami was to leave on Dec. 5.

But about a week before departure, my travel agent noted that my passport was to expire in January 2007. I hadn’t given that fact a second thought, since our ship would return to Miami on Dec. 15.

But it turns out Crystal Cruises requires that passports be valid for at

least six months after a voyage ends. I’ve heard various explanations for that policy, from security requirements to flexibility in case of an

emergency.

At any rate, I knew I had only days to get a new passport. After

considering several options, including passport expediting services, I

decided the best course was to travel to Miami, the site of the nearest U.S. Passport Office.

But because of recent back problems, I didn’t want to drive. So I hopped the Greyhound bus from the dingy Washington Boulevard station in Sarasota. My friends thought I was nuts, but I figured I’d get some reading done.

I settled on the Barack Obama memoir, Dreams about My Father.

People-watching and eavesdropping proved to be far more diverting

activities, however. The obsessive-compulsive woman across the aisle read every billboard and restaurant name aloud, mile after mile.

“Bob Evans,” she’d shout. “Shell Factory.” “Early bird special.”

The sweet-faced young girl behind me was constantly on her cell phone. Her conversations were banal at first, but then she described a fight with her boyfriend, who had tossed her belongings on the front lawn. She was now on the way to Punta Gorda to seek refuge with friends.

My passport problem didn’t seem like such a crisis, compared to that.

But I was still nervous as we arrived in Miami after a seven-hour trip. The Miami downtown terminal turned out to be a shack in a vacant lot, surrounded by a fence and guarded by an armed security guard.

“Where can I get a taxi?” I asked him.

“Taxis don’t usually come here,” he said sternly. But he agreed

to call one.

“To the Four Seasons,” I told the driver. “The Four Seasons HOTEL?” he said, grinning at the incongruity of it. But hey, I figured I deserved to treat myself after my ordeal.

At 8 a.m. the next morning, I showed up for my pre-scheduled appointment at the passport office in the Claude Pepper Federal Building. I began telling my sob story to the impassive-looking clerk, but he interrupted me. “Come back at 11 a.m. and it should be ready,” he said.

And sure enough, at noon, I clutched my new passport firmly in hand as I boarded the bus for the return trip to Sarasota. This time I was the obsessive-compulsive one, checking my carry-on bag at least 10 times during the trip, to make sure it was still there.

My friend Jeff and I returned to Miami a week later, this time by car, to board the Crystal Serenity. I’ll share some of the highlights of that trip in upcoming blogs.