Friday in Raiatea (look that up in your spell check)

Traveling to some new exotic foreign land always brings with it anticipation, mystery, intrigue, and at times challenges. Fortunately, except for finding an Internet connection on a tiny island in the middle of the South Pacific, the challenges have been few ... the intrigue plentiful.

As often occurs in 21st century travel, it does not seem possible that a mere 48 hours ago, I was at home in Southern California. Now, on the second stop of a ten day Tahitian cruise, So Cal seems a distant experience.

The eight hour flight from LAX to Papeete aboard Air Tahiti Nui was relatively painless. The seats not overly cramped (though a bit hard), the food actually quite edible, we left LA at 4:30 PM and arrived at 9:30 PM (because of the time change) in the tropics ... the Papeete FAAA airport reminding me of similar airfields I visited nearly a decade ago in central America during a journey that took me to nearly a dozen small Latin Americans towns. No jet ways here, just the old metal stairways they wheel up to the front and back of the Airbus in preparation for the short walk to the terminal where security appears non-existent and Polynesian girls are on hnd to welcome you with a flower lei. We had arrived.

The ship is the Regent Seven Seas "Paul Gauguin," the smallest cruise ship I have even been on. There are only 350 passengers (it is sold out), and a staff of about 200. They fall over themselves waiting on you. Unlike the larger ships that can carry 2000+ passengers, everything here is compact. There is one central elevator, one central stairway, four decks where all the activities are. And, unlike the big ocean liners, here you're not traipsing down hallways the length of football fields just to get from your room to the pool, the gym, the restaurants, or closest bar.

And everything ... well, almost everything ... is included in the fare. You want a Grey Goose martini up with an olive. It's yours. Nothing to sign, no bill to pay, and no tipping. How about some Russian caviar or fresh Pacific oysters on the half shell? Grab a plate and a spoon. (The food is the BEST we have ever had on a cruise ... comparable to the best San Francisco restaurants). Want to water ski, kayak, snorkel ... go to the swim/activities deck, let them know, and hop on the boat. Now, there are charges for shore some excursions, and spa services like massages, and if you want some of the best French wine ever bottled, it'll set you back up to $800. But if you want two buck chuck, it's included (just kidding, just kidding ... the complimentary wine is very good French and Chilean wine).

The first two stops, Huahine and Raiatea, part of the Society Islands, are pretty much two tiny towns settled on two tiny islands in the middle of a very big sea. Amenities are few. One grocery store (where prices are totally outrageous because almost everything has to be imported from great distances ... Australia, France, & the US seem to be the main source of goods here), one gas station, a couple of pay phones, a paved stretch of narrow road that winds through town, and a small population of easy going islanders who great you with "Bonjour" and speak very little English. The main form of transportation is by foot, bike, boat, and kayak ... pretty much in that order. White sand beaches pretty much line the shores upon which the towns emerged generations ago.

Though the ocean here is crystal clear with an aqua blue hue, we are told this is pretty ugly compared to what lies ahead. For us, the main activities of swimming, snorkeling, hiking, diving, etc, begin on Monday when we arrive in Bora Bora. For now, it's mostly just walking around.

The walk through Huahine yesterday took about 10 minutes. Today, the walk through Raiatea, in between downbursts of heavy rain, took about 30 minutes. We watched from the dock of a group of about 40 school kids carrying back packs and bedding boarded a ferry for a winter retreat on a nearby island. South of the equator, it is the middle of winter here, and it has rained much of the day, with very strong winds. As a result, the captain said the swells are about 8 to 9 feet. And while the ship, being as small as it is, is more susceptible to the rocking of the seas, it's not bothering me (though it is pretty funny watching passengers stumble down the hallways

For now, I'm going to leave the stateroom, exit the ship, and head over to the Internet cafe to upload this blog (hopefully the connection is better than dial-up, though some people I talked with said it is pretty slow). Internet permitting, I'll be back.

The Next Adventure

Sitting in the lounge adjacent to Gate 103 at the Tom Bradley International Terminal ... LAX. It's the vacation we had been planning for a year. Almost everyone says Tahiti is the most beautiful spot in the world. The one person who said it was overrated lives in Portland. A beautiful city in itself, and if he's right, I could have saved a few grand and flown Southwest to PDX. But, I'll be the judge.

The flight aboard Air Tahiti Nui is eight hours ... in coach. But they say their coach is like business class (I hope it's like good business class, not the type of business class on American from Dallas to Palm Springs. I digress).

When we arrived at 9:15 tonight in Papeete, after customs, we head directly to the Radisson Seven Sea's cruise ship Paul Gauguin. We sail at midnight. It will be an adventure.

Internet permitting, I'll share with you what I can. Au revoir.

I don't normally watch the local CBS affiliate KPSP-2 here in Palm Springs for news, but last night at 5:00 when the ABC station KESQ-3 didn't have any details on a "major breaking story" I began surfing and found that KPSP was actually already on the scene (that may have been how KESQ learned there was a "breaker"). It wasn't that story that made last night's newscast on Channel 2 such a memorable broadcast. Instead, about 10 minutes later, right in the middle of the live program, with no warning from the anchors, a CBS News Special Report graphic and sounder interrupted the local newscast. A moment later, Katie Couric informed us that CBS News legend Walter Cronkite died.

I could not help but reflect back 46 years earlier when there was another bulletin on TV. This time, it was Cronkite who, in a hurried voice, broke into "As the World Turns" to announce that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. At that moment, television news came of age. It was largely because of Cronkite and the professional approach that CBS exhibited at that time that television news evolved into the powerful information source it has become. Purists would argue that unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the TV news gathering and delivery process became derailed, and now in 2009, TV news is really little more than another entertainment source where the latest car chase or celebrity death edges out more meaningful or pertinent coverage of budget crisis or world conflicts.

Cronkite had become critical of the state of TV news in recent years, and for very good reason. Young broadcasters today who never even saw a Cronkite newscast really have little understanding of the great institution TV news once was. Perhaps it is best put by Robert Lloyd, Television critic for the Los Angeles Time.

"For many who grew up in the 1960s and '70s, Walter Cronkite was the voice of unfolding history. On the "CBS Evening News" and on the spot, his eloquent mediation of the great events of an age almost pathologically overflowing with them was essential to the way those events were understood. Even when he was temporarily at a loss for words -- his tears at the death of John F. Kennedy, his inarticulate glee at the moon landing ("Whew, boy!") -- he somehow spoke for the nation he spoke to.

Cronkite was not just a newsman; he was -- like Edward R. Murrow, who brought him to CBS and television -- as close a thing to the idea of a newsman as his age imagined. Except perhaps for Chet Huntley and David Brinkley, his high-powered NBC competition, all TV news anchors, news readers and news reporters, even the most august of them, seemed like variations on his theme, shadows of his Platonic ideal. A decade after his retirement from the anchor's chair, he was still being named the most trusted man in network news."

Thank you Mr. Cronkite.

Where have the fruit stands gone? Long time passing.

I’ve been lazy. At least when it comes to freshening up the old blog. Part of it is because I have been busy. Last month, we left Puerto Vallarta just as the first steamy humid waves of a rain infused summer descended on the city. We arrived in Palm Springs just as the first blow-torch blasts of heat started baking the oven we call the desert (I’m already tired of hearing people say, “Well, is it hot enough for you?” It’s 114, whacha think, eh?). And now we’ve headed to Laguna Beach for three days, part of the house trade thing we’re doing with others who own cool places in resort towns (www.homeexchange.com … check it out).

So as I been living life back in the U.S. for a month now, there are some observations … some good, some not so good … but observations none the less that piqued my interest … and which I will blabber on about … here … on my blog … from time to time ... throughout the summer … in between travel blogs … so here it is … number 1 (damn it, get to it).

In all the years I lived in California, 50+, one of the best things about being here was the summer fruit season. And along with the season came the opening of the roadside fruit and vegetable stands. As a kid, I remember our family taking Highway 99 through Stockton and Fresno and Bakersfield, all along the way the road dotted with billboards “Fresh Tomatoes Ahead,” “Farm Fresh Peaches 1 Mile,” “Local Corn next exit.”

Even as I worked at News10, stories in the summer that took me to Yuba and Sutter Counties meant stopping along Highway 70 and picking up a crate of the biggest and best peaches you ever tasted. And though it was more like a small store than a fruit stand, Pedrick Produce along I-80 in Dixon and Nick’s Produce in Sebastopol always had the best bargains on the freshest local fruits and vegetables in the Sacramento area. But something has changed. The fruit stands of California are disappearing.

A couple of weeks ago when driving from Nevada City to Palm Springs along Highway 99, we had planned on stopping at several of the tiny roadside markets, often staffed the by children of the farmers who grow the tree sweetened fruit and golden corn and juicy tomatoes. We passed through Galt and Stockton and Modesto … plenty of strip malls and shopping centers and Starbucks, but not one fruit stand. Turlock, Merced, Fresno, Visalia … same thing. We were amazed and disappointed.

Then, just outside of Bakersfield, a slice of hope. A hand painted sign perch in a field along the freeway proclaimed “Fresh peaches, next exit.” We pulled off, wound through the tiny town of McFarland, and came upon what apparently is the last of a dying breed ... the California fruit stand. Under a large shady tree, with tables fashioned out of wooden crates, we picked up some apricots and peaches, the kind you used to find everywhere (not like the stuff you buy at Safeway). And I told the farmer, in his plaid shirt and overalls, that I was surprised that there were no longer many fruit stands. “Can’t do it, anymore,” he growled. “The state has shut us down.”

According to this farmer, he said the state regulations have become so onerous for the small farmer, that you pretty much need the type of business license that a grocery store needs even if you want to sell figs or plums by the side of the road. You need restrooms and sanitary facilities for customers. You need to make your stand ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) compliant. You need to pay minimum wage and provide certain benefits to the workers, and there is a minimum age for employment which rules out the kids working at the parents’ stand. As a result, he said, the old fashioned roadside fruit stand is a relic of a bygone era, at least in California. As for his small business, he had workers pick the fruit from his trees and he staffs the stand himself. He put one of those portable outhouses over on the side, along with a sink and soap for sanitation. A patch of carpet was unrolled over the dirt lot to meet handicap requirements. He did the best he could, but was the lone survivor of what used to be a string of such fresh fruit outlets through California’s bread basket. He told me this would probably be his last year.

How much of what he told me is true, I don’t know. But when I Googled California fruit stand regulations, I did find a 2008 article from the Chronicle that pretty much said what the farmer told me, and raised concerns that the fate of the roadside farmer was questionable at best.

So, a part of California history is nearly wiped out by over zealous legislators and bureaucrats … probably the same people that bitch and complain that the fruit you buy in the grocery stores isn’t like what it used to be. And it’s true, The peaches you buy at Safeway or Raleys or Alberstons or most any other store are so hard, you could play baseball (not softball, but baseball) with them. And they never seem to ripen. And tomatoes taste like they were picked green last year, refrigerated, then painted red. Ah, but at least it is all sanitized and wrapped in plastic for us. At the time of a budget crisis and stalement where our elected leaders can’t seem to get their act together to get the state fiscally sound again, at least they are good at one thing … making sure we’re safe from those dangerous fruit and vegetable stands and the toxic food they once sold by the side of the road.

Where have all the fruit stands gone?
Long time passing.
Where have all the fruit stands gone?
Long time ago.
Where have all the fruit stands gone?
Regulators have closed them every one.
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?