Disney-holic-NOT, Not Keen About the Mouse

I dealt with yet another Disney-bound family yesterday, giggly little ones with colds whose parents were researching products to get them through the plane trip for the annual pilgrimage to Orlando. I've been to Orlando once on a business trip, and the highlight was going out for dinner with a group of my peers and my mom, whom I had shangaied for a few days in the sun. I drove past the great American Mecca in the dark, on the way home from visiting a family friend. It held no temptation for me then or now.
I have family and friends who go to the DisneyWorld repeatedly, and who feel it's the best vacation spot ever. I have worked with people whose cubicles are decorated with mouse ears and Tiggers. I wait on forty year olds with cartoon tattoos that I hope I don't have to look at when they are seventy and saggy. I am bombarded with commercials, and have been for years, that this is the last chance to see this and this year is the last chance to experience that. And I never experienced a burning desire to cash in the 401K and run, not walk, to the last bastion of pediatric economic exploitation.
Don't get me wrong- I enjoy many of the Disney products. I like the movies, the musicals, the opportunity the conglomerate has given to many of our most creative minds. I have always detested Winnie the Pooh- its creator was estranged from the son whom he based his stories on, and whose life was made miserable by references to the sappy stories. (Bear in mind, I collect children's books.) I liked the Mickey Mouse cartoons when I was young, and recognize their significance in the development of the art form. I liked that they made stories a LITTLE more PC, with strong feminine characters and less negative ethnic stereotyping. I tend to like amusement parks as a general rule, and we took our kids to StoryLand, Santa's Village, Clark's Trading Post, Six Flags & Water Country over the years as they grew (I refused to take them to travelling carnivals as I think they aren't monitored well enough). I just never felt that it would be the highlight of our lives to load 4 kids into a plane and travel to the other end of the country to pay exorbitant fees to eat breakfast with some actor in a mouse suit. And a number of families we socialized with felt the same way. I recently watched the show about the sextuplets screeching their way through the park, too little to really understand and enjoy the activities, while their mom tried to get her camera to work and record the magic moments as she extolled that her children deserved to experience this fun. I had to agree with the National Lampoon parody WallyWorld, that the journey should be more than the destination (deceased relatives notwithstanding).
I used to pull my kids out of school for a week, and we'd go north to Vermont AFTER the school vacations had ended and the crowds were gone, and everything was cheaper. We'd ski all morning, eat a hearty lunch we prepared ourselves, and ski til the lifts closed, then snack and do homework before dinner. At Magic Mountain, the staff knew us, and the wait staff would chat with the kids every year, remembering what they were up to and how big they were last year. At Stowe, we discovered out favourite Mexican restaurant (which we've gone back to numerous times) and saw Aladdin in the theatre. At Pleasant Mountain, we had a condo and cooked in, and had great visits by Joe and other family members & their friends. It was just us and the mountains, the clean, crisp air and the hot cocoa and chili dinners. I never thought fireworks and pirates and big cartoon characters and parades could rival that. We haven't skied all together in a long time, but we still like to be together, and when we cook, we are all in the kitchen. We also made our yearly pilgrimage to the house that holds us all on the Cape, with Vacation A option of early morning hikes and birdwatching, frantic bike riding, kayaking and card playing & Option B being sleeping late, lots of novels, discussions, & hammocks. (Both options included beach, leisurely communally cooked meals, movies and vicious Trivial Pursuit games replete with the Spotted Sandpiper Mating ritual.)
Maybe the hoopla meets that need for some people and it's their way of being together in a special place. It just makes me a bit suspicious that the Corporation has us profiled to a T- they know what kind of offers to tempt the populace with, what deals we cannot refuse. We are told to consume, to expect to be entertained, so frequently, subliminally and steadily, that we feel it is our right as an American to have the wondrous vacation, and to have it yearly. If your child is ill, or has a poor prognosis, arrangements must be made for this pilgrimage as a sacred rite that must be experienced at least once in every lifetime, no matter how short. Americans as a whole have forgotten how to make do or do without, and have gotten very used to doing as we're told by the media.
The whole theme park and cruise line scenario reminds me of a baby on Christmas, overwhelmed with present after present after present, thing upon thing that the child didn't know he needed or wanted until presented with it. And the child retreats into a quiet corner to play with the box.

I am very curious to see how Disney takes the Harry Potter world under its wing and interprets my current favourite series. Will I be a traitor to my own opinions if I decide to someday visit it? I don't know. But for now, Orlando, enjoy the weather and the hoopla while I go to shovel my roof again before the next snow starts. Then I am off to play with a box.

Spouting, Seals and Three Perfect Beach Days

Three beauties in a row! What more can a vacationer ask for? All with temps about 78 degrees F, water temp of 63-65F and mild ocean breezes. Day one and two- not a cloud above us, but we could see clouds over Boston on the horizon from the beach. Day 3 was hazy but sun broke thru continuously, and Mother Nature put on a show.
We happened to be on the Cape. I would never recommend it as a vacation place- it's way too far , there's no garbage pickup, the water pressure sucks and it's way too expensive. Sand in the bathing suit sucks, and all you can eat is fish. We call it Fifi-land for reasons I shall not disclose. Go somewhere else. Really. I hear California is nice. Disney gets good reviews.
Anyhow- we go there sometimes. And when we are there, we force ourselves to go to the beach. (Driving in traffic is much more fun than sitting in the sun listening to other people's kids scream and throw rocks at each other. Take a drive. You'll be glad you listened to me and did not visit the beach.) This time, for a miracle, there were clear skies, perfect tides, and regular breezes, which I understand only happens every hundred years. Usually in August on the Cape, people are shovelling their driveways.
So we're sitting on the sand swiping at sand fleas and enjoying the Jim Jones mass suicide of thousands of little silver fish that committed mass suicide the night before just to see how many sand flies they could attract. The balmy breezes are punctuated by the whistles of exasperated lifeguards trying to corral morons who choose to wear swim noodles and bubbles so the rip tides can take them out even further, and watching the yahoos drive boats right up on the sand (yes, we DO think it must be bad for the boat, but after a twelve-pack it must seem like a REALLY good idea. One group of yahoos was actually throwing rocks at each other for sport, but they all survived this Darwinian pasttime, much to our chagrin). Anyhow, we're reading the books we've put off all year when Sue says "is that a spout?"
Yeah, sure, Sue, Moby Dick came by to finish off the little silver fish the terns have missed. Then right in front of me, whoosh, up goes the kind of spout I have only ever seen on the National Geographic or the Discovery Channel. Thar she blows!
This whale with a huge sense of humor and impecable dramatic timing then cavorted for over an hour right in front of us. Since we were the geeks with the telescope AND binoculars, the whole group of us was up like a shot, and this whale played with us visually. People around us began to stop and watch as well. When I had my turn with the binocs, I saw it spout, then roll on its side and slowly, idly roll across my line of vision and then down beneath the waves. I never saw it fluke its tail, but this critter played the crowd. A boat would go near and stop- nothing. Ten minutes would go by and the disappointed yahoos would head away, then it would spout again. It was pretty entertaining- endangered species messing with the heads of yahoos with too much money. You didn't need binocs, but I am glad I got a really good look at my first whale. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. (I hear Disney is nicer, especially the Hall of Presidents.)
In the lulls between spouts, a seal mom with a couple of pups would surface further down the beach and give us something else to amuse ourselves with. It's pup season, and they will land periodically to rest, so people are supposed to stay away and not stress them out (they get stressed, they get sick, then they die, and it's all your fault, damn yahoos). It was really nice to watch them but sad to see the yahoos eyeing them and thinking about coats.
We watched the whales and seals for over an hour- our friends stayed with the binocs for another hour after we left and the show continued- they saw TWO whales (we suspected there were 2).
Just to rack up the wildlife, over the three days we saw a common loon (eating a big fish), red-necked loon, all kinds of terns and gulls, and a peregrine falcon winging in from over the ocean. Ted says the peregrine is such a strong flier it doesn't depend on thermals, so unlike other hawks, you will see it come in from over the sea.
The feeder was frequented by goldfinches, cardinals, the occasional jay, chickadees, tufted titmice and house finches, along with a few straggling mourning doves. I stepped out on Day 2 and a juvenile fledgling cardinal was hopping right by the steps- he seemed to have a limp, and when he tried to fly up on the feeder, he fell off because he couldn't grip with his feet properly. We felt sorry for him so Ted threw some seed under the feeder, and he set to. When we got home from the beach, he was gone and either he encountered a miracle or he ended up as redtail dessert. Survival of the fittest.
Anyhow, the beach was just what I needed after the past year. I may go back down for a few days, but then again, I may shake the sand out of my bathing suit and head off to Disney. I hear it's the best vacation spot in the world. Really. Wanna go?