Dezerland: Orlando's hidden gem

When we went to Orlando this month, we found a place even some of the natives (the fire department when we got stuck in the elevator) know nothing about: Dezerland. It's an amazing indoor activity center, great for families, go-cart enthusiasts, pinball machine lovers, classic car buffs, and mini golfers alike. 

This indoor attraction boasts 300 million dollars in classic cars. It has cars from the beginning of when cars were made, cars from James Bond movies (An entire room of these), cars from classic TV shows, and cars from all over the world at various stages in the last 100 years. 

We took the VIP tour and this allowed us to sit in some of these vehicles and take pictures. We got to sit in the Ghostbusters' car, because it was the 40th anniversary of the original movie debut. 

We saw two mystery machine vehicles from Scooby Doo the movie, the back to the future car, the cars from night rider, 

This amazing place is named after the development company who bought the land. Imagine Dave and Buster's on steroids. This is kind of what is happening. We couldn't even see all of it, although we tried to see a lot of it. 

Overall, I totally recommend seeing this when you are in Orlando, even if you don't like old cars, there is Go-Carts and pinball machines to keep you busy all day long... 

Hulk Hogan's Beach Shop

In Orlando there is a business set up by Hulk Hogan - it's a beach shop. It's an adorable little place where wrestling fans can rejoice in all that Hulk Hogan has brought to pro wrestling. It's also a great place to buy souvenirs and see real pro wrestling belts. 

His name is synonymous with wrestling and his fame has lasted the test of time. Hulk Hogan. The most famous professional wrestler of all time. He made wrestling famous. He was in a Rocky movie and on Johnny Carson. He conjures up imagery of the 80's with sweaty muscle men ripping their shirts off and fighting in brawls to win the world championship! 

Hogan has definitely defined an age and become an icon for pro wrestling. He's done so many other things though, reality TV, movies, and books. He has also set up these Beach Shops. I was skeptical about what could be so compelling about these places, especially in Orlando which is not next to the ocean. A beach shop in this location was confusing to me, but genius for Hogan. It's Disney's home so tourism runs rampant here.  Any extra stop besides Disney is going to draw attention. 

It was a charming little place. It had his image all around. There was a wrestling ring in the center of the room and for $20 you can hold a belt and take pictures in it. (Of course, we did this) The merchandise was good quality as well. I'm terrible about bringing or wearing sunglasses and I needed a pair. The delightful girl working there helped me pick out a pair. She also helped me find a magnet for the fridge and told us about holding the belt in the ring. 

One of Ric Flair's feathered robes was there, autographed pictures of Sting, and many other cool relics of pro wrestling of the 80's and 90's. As a kid my dad and brother watched a lot of wrestling, and my mom even took us to see a WrestleMania event once. It was really neat to see all the wrestling Nostolgia. 

Overall, it was a great place to find souvenirs, see wrestling history, and it did not put me in a sleeper hold. 

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Travel has it's "Ups and Downs"

Have you ever been stuck in an elevator? This unlikely event happened to me and my boyfriend in a Ramada in Orlando, Florida. It was wild. 

We got lucky, it was still early, and the elevator was not hot.  We thought about this within seconds of the elevator not moving. We were coming down from the second floor, so we weren't in any real danger; However, it was a really awkward place, and it made me think, how often does this happen? When elevators are poorly maintained, it happens a lot. 

I did realize not to panic. This would have made things infinitely worse. We were fortunate it was just Jeff and I in the elevator and not anyone with children or severe impairments. (Although Jeff would probably disagree as he was stuck in the elevator with me, and I can probably cover both those criteria as I often act like a child and my anxiety can be severe at times...) 

We opened the call box, miracle it worked. It put us through to someone at the front desk who attempted to get the doors open from down there. We could hear some banging and maybe a key turning. Nothing happened. 

So, he called the fire department. After waiting several minutes, we called him back to make sure he called the fire department, although we probably could've called ourselves, it was nice to have an outside voice at the desk. 

Our heroes, the Orlando Fire Department, arrived on the scene in about 10 minutes or less. We could hear them. We thought we were on the first floor, we could hear people in the lobby, enjoying their breakfast, blissfully unaware that two individuals were stuck in a metal container nearby. When the fire department arrived, it got very loud down there. 

They spoke to us from the door. When they got the door open, we heard, "No, this isn't going to work, we have to go up" which was scary. We knew the door was open, but we saw nothing.  They told us we were stuck between floors. We were a lot higher up than we thought. Which means the elevator must have stopped early on in its journey to the lobby. 

When they had finally clawed the doors open, we could see their feet. About 2 feet of space was available. We got our suitcase and bags out first because that was easiest. Housekeeping stood in the hallway and watched, probably horrified as they use this elevator consistently. 

Jeff, concerned about my anxiety and probably simultaneously annoyed by my picture taking and gasping at "How cool this is..." was very willing to lift me out if the fire department wanted to help. I opted to stay with him and see how this played out. I didn't want to leave him there as well. 

As they were talking to us, they opened the roof of the elevator, in case the ladder they had wouldn't work or the space was too small. This was very cool. I didn't realize how easily this just comes off. We didn't need it, but it was neat to see it. They got us a ladder (I did not take a picture of it) and we climbed it to get out. Shimming on our bellies on the floor between the first and second floor. 

I asked the fire department several questions: How often do you do this? Answer: once or twice a month. They said they have training on various types of elevators. I did not realize there was so many. I thought Otis is a main brand, the one we were in was a Miami elevator. They would not tell me which ones get stuck the most. 

I asked them what normally happens, and they said it doesn't often get stuck between floors like that, it's usually they can just open, and people walk out. Elevators are equipped with all sorts of safety features. The fire department is trained on handling this in many different situations. 

Once out of the elevator, I went to the front desk. "Hey, it's me from the elevator, don't worry I got out", I was laughing and smiling. The front desk man responded, "Oh was that you?" 

A little bit annoyed by this situation and he didn't seem to have any sympathy to the fact I was trapped in between floors, I persisted. "The inspection certificate is expired". 

"No, we just haven't switched it out"

"Since last August? It is June"

"Oh, I will look into it, here is my manager's number" 

 I assume the situation stressed him out as well, so I let his lack of concern slide. Then we got into a discussion about airport shuttles, and I said I would be back in two days as I had another room booked.

After all of this was said and done, we were happy to be out of the elevator and on to our drive to Jacksonville. I am glad it was us stuck and not people who couldn't climb out easily or someone with serious panic. Those elevators are for people who cannot climb stairs, what if someone wheelchair bound was stuck? 

The Ramada did not fix the elevator quickly. When returned two days later, it was still broken. We asked for a room on the first floor. There were two elevators, but the second one also had the expired certificate. I checked when we got back. I don't work in hotels so I could not tell you the cadence of such matters. All I know is from now on, I'm taking the stairs. 

Hagia Sofia, Istanbul

 

My visit to Istanbul would have felt incomplete without exploring the renowned Hagia Sophia. Describing this leg of the journey proves challenging as the place invoked a myriad of indescribable emotions. The ambiance within was potent, as if I were absorbing 1500 years of history in a single day. Let me offer a condensed version of the extensive history of this edifice—the Reader's Digest version, as delving deeper would be a narrative far too protracted.

Originally constructed as a Christian Church in 537 AD, the Hagia Sophia now serves as a mosque. This transformation is not unprecedented, as the building has been reconstructed three times. Its fate oscillated with the political winds of Turkey, akin to a pawn in a chess game. The current president declared its reversion to a mosque in 2020, emphasizing its openness to people of all faiths. Upon entry, females must don a headscarf, and all visitors are required to remove their shoes. Designated a UNESCO heritage site, the mosque boasts separate prayer areas for males and females.

It's a place that elicits both joy and sadness simultaneously—a witness to unimaginable events like wars, plagues, and natural disasters. For 1500 years, individuals have visited, prayed, communicated with God, and sought solace beneath its expansive rotunda. Upon entering, the adage "if these walls could talk" resounded in my mind, laden with feelings, sounds, and an ineffable energy.

The atmosphere reverberated with prayers, conversations, whispers, and an indistinct melody—an ambiance delicately poised on the verge of disturbance. My curiosity piqued about the upper levels, although I refrained from ascending. While there seemed to be people up there, it didn't appear open to the public. Nonetheless, I believe these levels hold artifacts and historical information about the temple's past as it was once a living museum, providing a panoramic view of the structure's layout.
Many Christian depictions have been removed or concealed, reflecting Islamic beliefs that prohibit images during prayer. Notably, an angel's face was scratched out in the ceiling, and scaffolding hinted at ongoing renovations. I pondered the fate of displaced artwork, questioning where it went.

Despite these changes, remnants of the building's history endure. A casket and a baptismal fountain stand near the exit, testaments to the dedicated custodians who have safeguarded the structure for 1500 years—both in spirit and body. It was heartening to see this part of history preserved, a reassuring affirmation that not every trace of the past was being erased.

Port of Call: Honduras

As a child, my imagination was enraptured by Central and South America. These lands seemed like uncharted territories, brimming with adventures. Within these exotic realms lay dense jungles concealing elusive creatures and resilient people who had adapted to flourish in extraordinary environments. From the soaring heights of the Andean peaks to the lush mysteries of the rainforests and the arid embrace of certain deserts, these regions held a magnetic pull on my wanderlust-stricken soul. The pictures I saw of these places did nothing the quell the desire to visit them.

My journey to this enigmatic part of the world began when I turned thirty and took a voyage to Peru, an experience that only whetted my appetite for more. However, Central America remained an elusive treasure, beckoning me from afar. It was only this year, as part of my annual birthday pilgrimage, that I embarked on a seafaring adventure bound for the heart of Central America. The cruise I booked had its course set for the beguiling destinations of Honduras, Belize, and Cozumel.

Honduras, a nation of profound historical significance, welcomed me with open arms. Its unique heritage bore the imprint of British influence, with English being the primary language, followed closely by a Creole tongue and Spanish. The Creole dialect exhibited such close kinship with English that, with attentive ears, one could discern the whispered echoes of its linguistic heritage. My voyage brought me to the Honduran haven of Roatán, a pristine isle inhabited by a modest population of roughly 10,000, predominantly sustained by the nurturing bosom of tourism. This idyllic sanctuary is teaming with individuals who formerly called the United States home and now reside in this glorious island.

Enrolled in an excursion artfully curated by the cruise ship, I joined a mesmerizing Monkey, Sloth, and Macaw odyssey. This expedition promised up-close encounters with these captivating creatures. While the prospect of entering a monkey cage gave me pause, I did opt to embrace the experience of holding a sloth. It was here that I held a sloth, an encounter that charmed me to the core. The sloth, christened "Cid," embodied everything I had imagined – a gentle, unhurried creature with a countenance that could melt the coldest of hearts. Our guide, a gentleman by the name of Isaac, adeptly wielded a smartphone, expertly assisting me in capturing selfies with this delightful companion.

Our visit also unveiled the White Nose Coati, an intriguing blend of raccoon and anteater traits. In Central America, they often emulate the mischief-making antics of raccoons, foraging through garbage and causing a ruckus. Personally, I found them rather endearing, though admittedly, I clung to a sliver of trepidation, akin to my uneasiness around raccoons back home.

Following our memorable encounter with sloths, monkeys, and macaws, we embarked on a bus ride to explore an iguana sanctuary. This small haven serves as a shelter for thousands of iguanas, many of whom had been nursed back to health after injuries. While these iguanas are vegetarians, they harbor a mischievous streak, capable of nipping unwary fingers during feeding. Yet, a spiky-backed intruder, an iguana of a different breed, dared to infiltrate the sanctuary. Swiftly, the vigilant workers expelled this rogue, for such creatures were known to turn predatory, those iguanas are meat eaters.

Concluding our captivating tour, we found ourselves in a charming shopping enclave known as the Macaw Market. Here, we delighted in delectable chocolate, and I, of course, couldn't resist the temptation to procure some for myself. This particular cocoa confection was a testament to the island's bounty, crafted with care and comprised of a mere four ingredients—all grown and harvested locally. It was a fitting finale to an expedition that had awakened my senses to the captivating essence of Central America

Brush Studio; An Artistic Adventure

You know, I've stumbled upon this newfound obsession that's become my ultimate muse – painting classes. I've been on a wild virtual scavenger hunt through the tangled web, hunting for these elusive local painting classes. It all started back in 2022 when I dipped my toes into the enchanting world of paint by numbers. Little did I know, I was about to embark on an addiction that would consume my creative soul. Now, I'm not exactly the poster child for natural-born artistic talent, so I'll be the first to admit that I require a generous dose of guidance, maybe even a boatload of it. That's why paint by number was such a revelation. But, my friends, let me tell you, there's something even more divine – the freehand class. It's like stepping into the arena of your own artistic destiny, with some help.











Picture this: you're in a class, armed with brushes and a blank canvas, surrounded by fellow adventurers of artistic endeavors. There's a masterpiece on the horizon, and you're about to bring it to life. Now, I recently gave a little place here in Grand Rapids a whirl – The Brush Studio. Nestled downtown on Louis Avenue, it's a fusion of modern coolness and cozy vibes. The instructor was a wise and talented master of color. She guided us through the intricate dance of crafting a background, then unleashed the music and set us free. The studio walls adorned with a kaleidoscope of artwork from various classes, creating a vibrant tapestry of creativity.


This place is like a magnet for souls of all walks of life. Picture this: a man and his four-year-old daughter, side by side in the class. It's pure magic watching that little one dive into the world of colors, following the brush strokes with glee. You see, it's not a Herculean task to keep kids focused when art is involved. There was also a couple who found their bliss here, and two pals sharing this artistic voyage. Each one brought their own unique background and skill level to the canvas.

At the beginning, you're handed a pristine canvas and a palette of colors, the essentials for your creative journey. As you sail through the artistic seas, you can choose to chart your own course by mixing and matching colors, but these initial hues lay the foundation of your masterpiece.





Now, here's the kicker – our instructor, she's not just a teacher, she's a docent of the soul. She guides you on a quest to uncover hidden facets of yourself within your art. Her instructions are clear, yet they don't shackle you to recreating an exact replica of the art before you. It's about finding your artistic voice, about adapting the colors of your flowers and discovering how to bring forth a bouquet of diverse blossoms.

Her wisdom shines through in her teaching. It's tempting to fixate on every little imperfection, constantly tinkering and tweaking until you've overcooked the masterpiece. She suggests a different route – take a step back, peruse the work of your fellow travelers, and then return to your own canvas.

The enchanting part of this whole voyage is that every piece of art that emerges from that room is as unique as a snowflake. Same paint, same tools, same guidance, yet each canvas tells a different story.

As we painted away, curious souls strolled past the large glass windows, downtown's voyeuristic windows to creativity. It struck me that I've been on the other side of those windows before, peering in, wondering about the magic unfolding within. What's that project? How do I get in on this artistic escapade? And who knows, perhaps you're brushing shoulders with the next Picasso, or maybe, just maybe, it's you who's destined for artistic stardom....

Wine and Paint (Or unlimited Mimosas and messes)

I have always thought painters are so cool. It's probably because my mom can make amazing things out of paint. She has always had this talent and I have never even imagined I could do it or make anything remotely pretty. My handwriting and drawing is, well, basically, it's embarrassingly bad, so I never tried. It's not because I don't want to, its more because I don't think I'm capable and I don't want to make something ugly. Me doing this class is pretty adventurous, for me it is anyway. 

This class was something I was putting off. It seemed I was destined to take one of them. I avoided art classes like the plague since I cut my finger open on a mat cutter in 6th grade (true story, lots of blood, 6 stitches). Several times I've been invited, or my ex-husband always wanted to do it, or friends. I was terrified my work of art would be humiliatingly ugly. This was the day I got over it. 

So, I decided I would try it out and found people willing to go with me, otherwise, I was prepared to do this alone. Luckily, I didn't have to, my best friend Anna came along for the ride. It's always better with a friend. This is true of almost anything in life. 

It was awesome. They walk you through the painting bit by bit. First, they show you the painting and describe the brushes you will use and what each of them is used for typically. The instruction is extremely detailed, and you can ask questions if you get confused. They are very helpful, and they circulate around the room as you paint so they make sure everyone is following the instructions correctly. 

As you are doing this you can order drinks, or like this class it was a special with unlimited Mimosas for $10. So, for $48 each we got unlimited drinks and a piece of art to create and take home. It was very messy. I'm very messy, so it's not surprising, but you put an apron on, but sometimes that's not enough. 

Here is where we went: Grand Rapids | Wine and Canvas MI