Feliz Navidad and Bonne Fete!

Between trying to understand Nepali, tutoring Kalpana in Spanish, and arriving in France yesterday, my poor brain is reeling and I'm a bit tongue-tied! But I'll try to get my English together well enough to catch our friends up on our holiday events.

Christmas Eve day was cookie decorating day at Ama Ghar! Although the kids are mostly Hindus and Buddhists, they're extremely creative, especially when it comes to making something beautiful to eat... Bonnie gave cookie cutters to a German bakery in Kathmandu, as there is no oven at Ama Ghar - then we mixed up frosting and went at it - with the results you can see at left. The cookies could have been more colorful, but we made the mistake of giving them some Betty Crocker chocolate fudge frosting, and suddenly everything was chocolate-colored! Some things are just universal, eh?

On Christmas morning, Santa arrived in the shape of a grey-haired Jewish guy (see photos at left). The crowd went wild! Santa passed out small toys that Bonnie and I had bought in Bangkok (English poppers, yoyos, light-up pens) and a bag of nuts, fruit and chocolate for each child.

And the Grand Finale of the day was a performance of "A Christmas Carol", which played to an appreciative audience of visiting Ama Ghar board members, some visiting Nepali college kids, and all the staff and children who weren't in the cast. Scrooge, played by Maju (a 13 year old girl), sported a fake mustache and a grouchy attitude - she even said "Bah Humbug" and called Bob Cratchit a "nincompoop"! The dancing scene from Christmas Past was done to a Bollywood tune, and we ended with Tiny Tim and Sano Santosh (Little Santosh)singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas"!

We left Ama Ghar on December 29 and are spending the New Year holiday with John & Margaret in France - then on to the US and what we hope will be a great 2010. We'll try to carry the love of those 38 children, and the inspiration they give us, into an uncertain future. And to paraphrase Tiny Tim - "God bless you every one!"

A Thousand Joys, A Thousand Sorrows

Buddha said that life consists of “a thousand joys, a thousand sorrows”, and this week we have experienced both.

We received news last week that our dear friend Peter Mock died, which has saddened us both. We spent such wonderful times in Coarsegold with Peter and Gabriele during our cross-country tour; and we had a farewell dinner with them (little did we know) at the R&G Lounge, site of many Chinese New Year celebrations with Peter and his family, before we left for Nepal. Our hearts go out to Gabriele and we wish we could be with her during this impossible time.

Peter was in the midst of writing a memoir – when we had him over for dinner this summer, Dick said, “You’d better get on it, Peter – you don’t have much time left!” Unfortunately, that was a prophetic statement (and typically Dick, don’t you think?) but luckily we arranged for Peter to work with our friend Pam Feinsilber, an excellent editor, and they had completed several chapters before his death… he had just sent us a draft to read two days before he died. His sisters have told us that they plan to finish it, which is a wonderful tribute to Peter – and the memoir will be a priceless chapter in the history of San Francisco’s Chinatown.

As far as a thousand joys, we are working with the children on their Christmas program – an Ama Ghar version of “A Christmas Carol”, complete with Bollywood dancing and a Sanu Santos (small Santos) instead of Tiny Tim. Our message is that for all of us who live in this house - Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Jews – Christmas is a time of joy and giving, where we can forget our sorrows and raise our voices in song… whether it’s “Joy To The World” or “Jai Ho”! Peter and Gabriele were such generous contributors to Ama Ghar - we will think of them as we sing.

Strangers in a Strange Land - and we love it!

The reason I have loved traveling in Asia since the very first time is that it is so completely foreign. In Europe, there's always a sense of deja vu - sometimes it's only a memory from a Western Civilization text or art history class, but sometimes it's a feeling deep in my bones that this is where my DNA originated.

In Asia? Everything is exotic, fresh and exciting - sometimes baffling and annoying as well. Slender, golden people as opposed to pale hairy ones; lush, luxuriant blooms growing out of unfathomable filth; and languages that click and hiss in my normally receptive ears.

When in Bangkok, we saw glittering shrines covered with lotuses and marigolds, wreathed in incense smoke in front of department store windows touting Christmas sales and sporting gigantic Christmas trees and Nutcracker statues. The enormous department stores in Bangkok are shrines to consumerism and conspicuous consumption -fascinating, beautiful and a strange contrast to the country's Buddhist traditions.

On Saturday we went to a Holiday program by the Kathmandu Chroale at The British School - incredible! The Chorale is made up of talented people of every nationality, and they sang beautiful holiday music in English, Nepali, Latin, French, Italian, German and Spanish. The children loved it - primarily for the brownies and hot chocolate served at intermission - but as for me, when the Chorale sang, "I'll Be Home For Christmas", little Assim tapped me on the shoulder and whispered "Auntie, why are you crying?"

We are their dream, and they are ours...

I overheard a conversation between Dick and Jana, a Russian woman who is volunteering at Ama Ghar this week and who now lives - where else - in San Francisco. She was talking about something that happened to her in Russia in 1964, when Dick said, "Wait a second! In 1964 I was sitting on a ship in the Bay of Pigs hoping the Russians wouldn't blow me to bits!" And yet here they were, the Russian and the American, sitting on a porch in Nepal, with a shared love for 38 children.

Similarly, we were on a small boat (12 people) in Doubtful Sound in New Zealand a few years back, and our favorite couple among the other passengers were Japanese. We learned, after getting to know them a bit, that he was ill with leukemia - because he is from Hiroshima, and his mother had been pregnant with him at the time the bomb was dropped. We were horrified, but he just smiled and said, "It isn't your fault - you weren't there." And there we were, Japanese and Americans, watching dolphins, drinking wine and enjoying each other's company.

Each person on this planet has so much in common with the others - and yet we continue to create conflicts. What a mystery - why do we have so much trouble understanding each other? This reminds me of what Salman Rushdie's Mogul Queen says about visiting foreigners in the court (from his novel, The Enchantress of Florence):

"The world is not all one thing. We are their dream," she told the King, "and they are ours."

"But imagine," said the King, "if we could awake in other men's dreams and change them, and if we had the courage to invite them into ours. What if the whole world became a single waking dream?"

Today I'm in Bangkok with my friend Bonnie, who's having some minor surgery, and Dick is in Nepal. He had a wonderful expedition on Sunday (photos at left), traveling to a temple in a remote mountain village with Uma, one of the Ama Ghar staff who is a very devout Hindu. I spent today exploring the streets of Bangkok, hearing sounds of temple bells, smelling fragrant flowers and the charcoal smoke of food stalls.

The world is not all one thing. We are their dream, and they are ours.

Challenges

That’s what life is about – meeting challenges – and we were challenged in a really fun way last Saturday when we were hosted by our friend Bob G. at the climbing wall at Kathmandu Mountaineering School. Bob is an American who owns a trekking company here in Nepal, and he’s also a bit of a freelance philanthropist – he’s heading to Ecuador in a few weeks to teach English in a remote jungle community for three months, now that trekking season is over for the winter.

Saturday’s outing was only open to older kids who had done their extracurricular English vocabulary homework, so we took 14 or so, along with Bonnie, Sarah (a volunteer from Seattle), Dick and myself. As a special treat, we were joined by Bindhu, one of our Ama Ghar graduates who is now a nurse at Patan Hospital. It was so exciting for us to see her again! We’ve known her since she was 14, and she’s such a fantastic girl – we’re very proud of her.

The climbing wall is as much a test of strategy as it is of endurance and strength. It was amazing to see the kids move up the wall so quickly – they love to climb. Climbing skills must be in those Nepali genes!

Once all the kids had a chance at the main wall, it was time for the adults to try. Bonnie Auntie didn’t fare too well, I managed to get halfway up – and then Bindhu challenged Dick Uncle to a race. He didn’t win the race, but he made it to the top – not bad for a 66-year-old! Bob G. said he was going to send photos to AARP – very funny. And, of course, our 30-something hiker Sarah made it up with no problem at all.

Then we moved to the advanced wall – too tough for all but the best: our big boy, Sajun, literally pulled himself up with his arms, and our tiny 13-year-old Srijana thought her way up (she also happens to be the Chess Champion of the house). Then Bob G. took us out for pizza and momos (Tibetan dumplings) and a good lunch was had by all.

As if that wasn’t enough action for one day, we continued on to Kopan Monastery, where Bob G. is living. We took a nice hike around the forested mountainside, fluttering with prayer flags, to see the views of several monasteries, before the Head Lama at Kopan gave us our private tour.

Kopan is as serene and lovely as any Hollywood fantasy of a monastery, with an intricately beautiful Tibetan chortan as the center of its lush garden. The kids rolled on the grass and played like puppies – then they ran around pushing the giant prayer wheel as fast as they could – laughing and shouting. This brought only benevolent smiles from the Lama, who believes that children should enjoy the monastery and not be intimidated by the accoutrements of their Buddhist faith.

And then, amid shouts of “Thank you, Bob Uncle!”, a tired but happy group descended to Ama Ghar and home.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

Since Thanksgiving is coming up, we’ve been thinking about what it is that we're especially thankful for as temporary residents of Nepal. As I’m sitting here typing, Dick is teaching Assim (age 8) to play Blackjack – pretty soon he’ll be taking money from all the other kids! Oy… maybe we should be thankful for a 10 and a face card...

What We’re Thankful For:

* Hot water for my bucket bath
* Electricity
* A seat in the micro that doesn’t have a metal piece underneath to stick me in the bum
* Clear days when I can see the Himalayas
* A green salad with arugula at Fire & Ice in Kathmandu
* Delicious cardamom spice tea made by Pabitra
* Reading under the covers with a flashlight
* The wonderful teachers and social workers I’ve met here – especially, of course, my friend Bonnie
* Sewing tennis ball bags with the younger girls (who knew we needed them?)
* Going to the climbing wall with the big kids
* Thanksgiving dinner at Mike’s Breakfast
* My daily hugs from Aruneema
* Glowing rice fields and yellow meadows of mustard
* The beautiful faces of the children that we see every day
* Most importantly… our wonderful family and friends around the world

Thank you for your friendship – may you have a day full of joy and gratitude.

I'll never complain about an appliance again!

One of the interesting features of Third World living is the intermittent electricity, which requires us to always wear our “jewelry” (headlamp/flashlight) at night so we can find our way when the lights go out; and patience is required when we want to check email or dry our hair and the power goes out halfway through…

And then there’s the laundry. Nepal is a very dusty place, so clothes (and bodies) need to be washed regularly. The lack of electricity necessitates bucket baths and laundry washed in cold water… and to think I had the nerve to complain about the long cycle on our wonderful French washing machine!

But all is forgotten when playing with the kids. This weekend we had a tennis tournament on our mud court – which was viewed by an avid audience of pigs and goats, who were mostly interested in eating the ball if it came their way. After that, the net was raised to volleyball height and the older boys played an intense volleyball match (for money)against the boys from another children’s home. A multi-purpose sports court!

On Saturday we had a Sports Day for the younger kids – three legged races, spoon races, crab walks – with prizes for the winning team. These kids love to compete, which is a good thing, because there’s a wider world out there, the evils of which they are only too aware. They’ve been through experiences we can’t even imagine… but for today, it’s good to be a kid…

Greetings from the Rooftop of the World!

Morning in the village of Thaukel… aromas of smoke and incense, ginger and garlic… first there are dogs, yipping and yowling… then pigeons, making their bird-brained cooing in the eaves under the thatched roofs… and finally the ladies doing their morning puja (prayers) ring bells and chant softly… open the curtains and a night of hard beds and cold water fades into insignificance as you gaze at the gleaming white rooftop of the world – the Himalayas.

We prepare for the day by boiling water for a bucket bath, drink our chai and eat biscuits, then head out for a fun day with four of the older girls. There is an International Womens Art Festival in town, with shows at several different venues, and we have promised four of our aspiring artists that we’ll take them for a viewing. So on this sunny Sunday afternoon, Dick and I set out for Patan Museum with Krishna (a mischievous and talented dancer and artist), Parbati (whose ever-ready smile belies her life in a daydream world), Samjana (a live wire whose unbounded energy creates some amazing art) and Srijana (a brilliant chess player and artist).

First we crush into a “micro” – the local bus. It’s hard for us Westerners to comprehend how many people can be packed into these Toyota vans – the concept of “personal space” is very different here! Forget the Western expectation of 3 in the front and 3 on each of the rear seats… the average number of passengers in each bus is 20 – and they don’t leave until the bus is full – which means some passengers ride standing up or squatting. The girls were thrilled because they could sit on each other’s laps and save me 10 rupees per person – you’re only charged for the actual butt space you use… (10 rupees is about 7 cents). There’s something comforting about being snuggled in together, and everyone is scrupulously polite as we bounce along the potholed streets.

We arrive in Patan and walk through the streets filled with shops selling everything from magnificent handcrafted bronze and wood carvings to cheap Chinese knockoff clothing… then to the beautifully restored Patan Durbar Square – all ancient temples and ponds in the Newari style - brick and carved sel wood – and we enter the museum through doors guarded by two ornately carved temple dogs.

The art is a bit sparse at this location, but the girls carefully inspect each piece, chatting softly to each other about the medium – what they like and dislike about each piece. They all agree that their favorite is an airbrushed goddess by a French artist, so Dick takes a souvenir photo of our four goddesses. The visit must have been inspirational, because on the way home in the micro there’s a lot of boisterous talk, as we drive past rice fields turned golden in the late afternoon light.

It’s such a pleasure to be with these girls – such promising young lives. When the Ama Ghar kids ask us how many children we have, we always reply “We have 38!”. It makes them laugh, but it fills us with hope that we might be able to help 38 kids have a good life – whether they will be artists, mothers, teachers, scientists, or leaders in a better world.

Do you believe in magic?

We do! We managed to get emergency Indian visas and new pages in Dick's passport in 5days... then we took off on Tuesday and crossed the Bay Bridge to get to the airport - 5 hours after we crossed, a cable broke and the bridge was closed down... then our flight out of SFO was delayed by an hour and a half - we were told we'd never make our connection at JFK - but we did! Emirates Airlines was wonderful - held the plane and walked us through security to make sure we didn't miss it... then Air India pilots went on strike the day after our flight to Kathmandu! It's a miracle - it's magic - but we're here!

Arriving in Kathmandu, we were met by Bonnie and Hari, her driver, a diminutive genius who knows how to zip through every pot-holed, cow and goat filled alley and back road in the city - the bald tires on his battered little red van have been blessed, so he doesn't worry (!)

As always when Bonnie has a car in town, she had a long list of errands, which happily included a stop in the bar at the Yak & Yeti, one of KTM's luxury hotels, to meet some volunteers. Over cocktails, these two lovely ladies passed on a giant duffel bag of Crocs and another suitcase of donated clothes. As we jammed this generous donation into the car with all the other luggage and tried to stuff ourselves between them, Bonnie mentioned that we had to pick up a Belgian magician who would put on a magic show at Ama Ghar - my thought was "He'd better be a magician if he thinks he's going to fit in this car!"

But somehow, Hari juggled all the people and luggage, and we all bumped and bounced to Ama Ghar, where our children, plus kids from two other homes, were waiting in the courtyard. Our magician, whose name was Sylvain, was phenomenal - he combined clowning and magic, involving the kids in a delightful show. Sylvain makes his living 9 months of the year by performing professionally around the world - then comes to Asia for three months and entertains at childrens homes and hospitals for free. That's a kind of magic, don't you think? That someone would devote their life to making children laugh?

Real Life - or what passes for it...

Interesting that we've been back to "real life" for a couple of weeks now, and although not as luxuriously indolent as our French idyll, it's been great. Visits to the Farmer's Market are almost as good here as in Normandy, and it's so wonderful to see old friends. We're catching up with tennis,dinner parties, movies and hikes as well as the boring old dentist's appointments, haircuts, etc.

Speaking of movies, saw Francis Coppola's new film "Tetro" at the wonderful Rafael Theater in our old home town of San Rafael. It's a fabulous old theater that's run as a non-profit and offers the latest in high end films, art films and often has an opening night where you can do a Q&A with the director after the show. We missed Coppola's night on the stage taking questions, but we did see his film, which is shot completely in black and white and takes place in Buenos Aires, another one of our favorite places on earth. Sadly, though the cinematography is awesome, the movie is over-dramatic, overlong, and completely over the top - but it was fun to be back at the Rafael.

Being in Marin County is fun because in many ways it's as if we never left. We walked into our racquet stringer's shop the other day and he barely looked up and said, "Hi, guys" as if he'd just seen us last week.

As they say - you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave...

Our Real Mission

We're back in the good old world... and back in the USA. Easy travels, happy memories... now it's time to get back to our true mission, which is helping the 38 children we support in Gadavari, near Kathmandu, Nepal.

We have volunteered at Ama Ghar, a home for children managed by our old friend Bonnie Ellison, for the past 7 years, and are planning to go back again in October. In addition, I have deepened this commitment with a position on the Board of the Ama Foundation, a grassroots, US-based non-profit 501(c)(3) organization. Ama Foundation is the sole source of funds for Ama Ghar, a loving home for 38 of Nepal's most underprivileged children. To learn more about Ama Ghar, check out our You Tube video excerpt from Matt Heffelfinger's award-winning film, "The Children of Ama Ghar".

www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2YFrft23hQ

These children are amazing - I think they speak for themselves when you watch the film. It's a wonderful experience to see the transformation from the cringing, frightened, traumatized children who arrive at our gate, to confident, happy, playful children who go off to school with a smile every day. They all attend English-speaking schools and are learning computer skills so that they will be able to leave Ama Ghar, support themelves, and live productive lives as good Nepali citizens. We are very proud of our three oldest children, who have "graduated" from Ama Ghar: one is employed as a nurse at Patan Hospital, one is working in a day care center in Kathmandu, and one is in medical school training to become an MD.

In addition, we are in the process of building a new home for Ama Ghar - which is currently based in a rental house. At the new home, we will be able to care for 75 children (double the current number) and have a community center where local villagers will be able to come for information and education as well. We've purchased the land, approved architectural plans, and completed the foundation - but we won't be able to finalize the house without a little help from our friends.

A dollar goes a long way in Nepal - if you could donate even a small amount, it would really help Dick and I on our goal of raising $5,000 for Ama Ghar this year. We have already contributed $1,500 - only $3,500 to go!

There are two easy ways to donate: by check or through Network for Good. And there's a bonus! Anyone who donates $50 or more through the Clifton/Hyman fund (!) will get an unframed print of their choice from Dick's Flickr files... we'll contact you to make a selection as soon as your donation is registered.

Network for Good is one of the most respected online giving portals, so by clicking on the button below, you can safely and securely make a gift from your credit or debit card, and even make it a recurring monthly pledge. Just go to our website at www.ama-foundation.org, or go directly to Network for Good and search for Ama Ghar.

If you would prefer to mail a check, our mailing address is:

Ama Foundation
PO Box 7075
1831 Solano Avenue
Berkeley, CA 94707

Be sure to mention on your check or NFG form that you're part of the Clifton/Hyman fund drive! Thanks in advance for your help and support - and I promise the next blog entry will be fun - I won't ask you for a thing!

A Sweet Ending

It's always good to end with a little something sweet, right? So let's end this two-month buffet of French delights with - what else - chocolate!

M. Charles Bataille is the artisan chocolatier of Belleme, who creates chocolates so beautiful that it seems a crime against art to eat them... however, we've managed to get over our guilt and bite right in... indescribable. Made of the freshest cream, the most voluptuous chocolate (up to 80% cocoa) and only-in-Normandy butter, these delectables are meant to be savored, like a long, lazy afternoon.

We walked over to M. Bataille's today after our last visit to our local Thursday morning market in Belleme. We're already feeling nostalgic for it, as it gets livelier every week, as summer deepens and more visitors arrive. Now it's not only the butchers, cheese vendors, produce stands and boulangeries, but also wispy cotton clothing, summer-y bangles, watches, and flowers, flowers, flowers... all in the shadow of the old eglise.

We have a very happy ending as far as Dick is concerned as well, since we went on a highly successful photo safari on Tuesday. The sky was dramatic - it was raining off and on, but very warm and sunny (figure that out)... we came upon a herd of Percheron mares and foals, which is particularly striking because the mares are white, but the foals are born dark. He finally got what he considers to be a Flickr-worthy Percheron photo - at last.

Through the grace of Frequent Flier Miles and the generosity of our friends, we haven't yet spent all the severance, so we'll be enjoying another month in the Bay Area, starting Monday. So we'll be Back in the Good Old World in a week or so... to be continued!

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back...

First of all, a report on the success of my French phone call: I did, indeed, make reservations for the Promenade - perfectly. Except that I thought a "promenade" would be horses promenading around... au contraire - we were the ones who were promenaded - in a horsedrawn cart with a group of very lovely people, on a tour of old Nogent. It was extremely charming and informative - and our fellow promenaders were so sweet. One lady came up to me and said, "You are American, yes? We love Americans here!" And the children were adorable, as always, particularly the sisters Matilde (age 9) and Berenice (age 4). Berenice fell asleep sucking her thumb about halfway through the ride, while our cart driver, pictured top left, never stopped talking...

At any rate, this seems to be the way things work for us, in travel and in life. We think we have things all figured out, then when it doesn't work, we give up on it... and when we give up on trying to control things, we see them in a whole new way.

For example, we used to think that Mortagne (one of the larger towns near here) was kind of an ugly industrial area, based on traveling by it on the main road. But after M&J told us it was their favorite, we went into the center of town and discovered a picturesque and fascinating city. The market in Mortagne is a Saturday morning "must" now - we have even made friends with a paella vendor who spent a couple of years in Michigan near the town where I grew up - he and his delicious paella are pictured at left... along with glorious roses and a beautiful little girl - all at Mortagne market.

Saturday night brought another visit to the Mortagne area for a musical performance - this time cello, piano and violin, playing Hayden, Ravel and Schubert in a glorious Romanesque church. The music soared to the vaulted ceilings, reaching to the gilded pink and white cherubs atop the 18th century altarpiece... achingly beautiful.

In another instance of happiness arriving when you give up control, remember the collie belonging to Madame Souchet, the keeper of the keys for the local tennis court? When we first got here, she (the dog, not Madame) used to chase me to the gate, snapping at my heels. Now she has seen me so often that she gets all excited and happy and tail-waggy when I show up... gratifying.

So we'll continue to stumble happily through our travels, which sadly will end next week when we head back to the USA, but we won't ever be the same again. James Joyce said, "I am a part of all that I have met"... Every day and every person we meet change us, and these days of getting happily lost have been transformational.

Big News from the Land of Indolence

Yesterday was a VERY big day for us... Dick got his first publication via Flickr! His photo of Bob Bryan at the French Open is going to be used on Shmap.com, a new map site (you can upload to your computer or your phone... very cool) to illustrate the location of Roland Garros on their Paris map. Onward and upward!

And, this may seem less important to others, but I find it thrilling: I had an entire 10-minute phone conversation in French yesterday, and no one laughed (well, maybe a little) or reverted to English. Of course, what I think I did was make reservations for the horse show today at Chateau St. Jean - if we get there and find out I actually signed up to muck out the stalls, we'll know I need to do a bit more work.

Photo at top left is of the Chateau. We went there on Tuesday to check our their art exhibit (very nice!) and take a small tour... found out they are having a show today with Percherons, so I was hooked...

Then on the way back, we made a stop to visit our local Percherons. These guys weigh about 1500 pounds, but they are the biggest babies you can imagine... they close their eyes and kind of drift off when you give them a good scratch. Actually, Dick does this, too, but he doesn't weigh 1500 pounds - yet - give the cheese a chance.

You'll see the big wussies in the photos at left - and hopefully we'll have some beautiful "horses at the Chateau" photos for you in our next post. Bonne weekend!

Ten Reasons to Spend Summer in Le Perche

1. You can walk to a tennis court and play for 2.50 Euros

2. Produce tastes twice as good as Whole Foods’ for half the price

3. You don’t have to wear a watch – the church bells always tell you what time it is

4. Camembert and Calvados

5. Rolling fields of sunflowers and poppies

6. The fetes that happen every weekend

7. Nobody is “too cool for words” – everybody greets you with “Bonjour, M’sieur-dame!”

8. You can read an entire book in one sitting – and you’re not even on an airplane

9. Two hour lunches, long afternoons, and sunset at 10 PM

10. You can watch two complete Grand Slams without once having to listen to Brad Gilbert

And speaking of Grand Slams, we watched Wimbledon at Cafe du Midi with other tennis enthusiasts - all rooting for Roh-ZHAIR Fed-air-AIR - and we were happy he won, though heartbroken for Andy. Maybe the US Open?

The Real LeMans

We had another wonderful walk through history yesterday when we visited LeMans. Up to this point, my only piece of information about LeMans was that they have the 24-hour car races there every other year or so... and my impression was that it was just a big modern city.

What did we discover on our visit? That the City, the provincial government and the government of France have invested in a total restoration of the old Plantagenet City. The city is named for the Plantagent dynasty which began here in 1128, with Geoffrey The Handsome, Count of Anjou, who used to decorate his hat with "genet" - a sprig of the broom plant... he "planted" the "genet" in his hat.

But the real origins of the city are even older. There still remains a fortified Roman wall, built in 280, which has protected and defined this old quarter of the city for 15 centuries, and Roman thermal baths that look like they were a lot of fun!

The real blossoming of LeMans came during the Renaissance, and that's when its most charming buildings were erected... the Plantagenet City is often used as a movie set, and it's obvious why that is so when you wander the streets. They were happily uncrowded on Friday, as it's not truly high season yet, and we browsed charming antique shops, discovered an entire street devoted to the maintenance of musical instruments, from mandolins and lutes to pianos... and of course, ate a fantastic French mid-day meal of smoked salmon pate, duck and homemade ice cream for dessert!

Versailles for Horses

Like many young girls, I was horse-crazy... my favorite vacation was the spring that my parents drove us to Kentucky to visit Churchill Downs and the breeding stables in the blue grass country. So it's no wonder that when given a chance to visit what its architect designed to be a Versailles for horses - the French National Stud Farm at Haras du Pin, I was in the car with my seat belt buckled before you could say "le cheval".

People in Normandy are rightfully proud of their horses, and particularly of the two breeds that originated here: the Percheron and the Cob Normandy. At Haras du Pin, the best of the best stallions of these two breeds, plus Arabians, trotting horses, and thoroughbreds (the French call these "Anglais") live a pampered, posh life that is not dissimilar to that of The Sun King and his court...they're fed the finest food, they're groomed until they glow, and, of course, they get all the prettiest girls. Despite this spoiled life, they're quite mellow and enjoy having visitors - probably because their human visitors all stand in front of the stalls cooing and tell these apparitions, in various languages, how incredibly beautiful they are!

And, of course, there are always a few jokers, like the trotting horse pictured at left who likes to stick out his tongue and then if you don't pay attention, he pretends he's going to bite. The last time we were here, he actually let us play with his tongue (e-e-e-e-w) but they've gotten a bit more strict about visitor interaction now and we weren't allowed to touch.

We took a tour of the grounds and met most of the grand stallions as well as visiting the carriage room and tack room... a wonderful experience, but not good enough to satisfy that little farm girl who wants to see more horses... so we're going back next week for the European Cart Horse Championships. Allez!

Musique of the Ages

"Sweet sounds, oh beautiful music, do not cease
Reject me not into the world again.
With you alone is excellence and peace
Mankind made plausible, his purpose plain."
--Edna St. Vincent Millay (via my fallible memory)

We spent Sunday evening bathed in the glow of the setting sun on the cream colored walls of the 17th century Chateau de Pellonniere, gazing up at massive rough hewn beams, enveloped in the resonating harmonies of the clavichord. The occasion was a recital of music by Jacques Duphly (1715-1789), a noted composer who was a native of La Perche and a contemporary of Mozart.

There was a full house in the music room at the Chateau, and Elisabeth Joye, an intense young Frenchwoman with snowy skin, henna hair and the eyes of another century, performed admirably. Most of us were transported by the music, with the exception of (or maybe including)the tiny old lady next to me, who slept soundly through the first half of the program, leaning heavily against me and smiling in her sleep like some ancient powdery angel. During the second half, she awoke and chatted in an animated fashion with the ladies around her, to the consternation of some of the prissier audience members.

As the breeze carried bits of birdsong throught the windows at intermission, I thought about the fact that this music, though it seems genteel to us now, was revolutionary for its time - breaking out of the strict rules of the Baroque, led by that wild child Wolfgang Amadeus. In fact, those were revolutionary times; the French people were fomenting their own rebellion and the British were dealing with their feisty colonies. Perhaps Thomas Jefferson or Benjamin Franklin, those old Francophiles, had the opportunity to hear M. Duphly's music in a setting such as this on one of their missions to France... and perhaps somehow the music helped to make their cause more plausible, their purpose plain.

Dick is a Flickr Slut

It all began when we were staying with our friend Pam in California, and she casually mentioned that a friend of hers had writen an article about Flickr, the photo posting site, and the fact that professional photographers were using the site as a way to get their work out there for viewing... and several have made a success out of selling images from Flickr to stock photo houses, agencies, and others who use them for commercial purposes.

She thoughtfully forwarded the article to us, and we read it after we'd been in France for a couple of weeks. Dick was intrigued by it, so we set up a Flickr account. (Note: not as easy as it sounds - this is not a user friendly site, though it pretends to be, with cutesy copy and perky icons)... we set up all our Back In The Good Old World images on Flickr so our friends who wished to could view the photos in a larger format.

THEN - Cybermagic struck!A woman in England who apparently loves Wellies saw Dick's rainy day photo of M's boots in the doorway, which she marked as a favorite. Other people chose it as well, and the comments began rolling in... and Dick was hooked. He's been in a frenzy to appease his Wellie-loving public's appetite for more. I now look over at him at mealtimes and he has a faraway look in his eyes - says things like "what about Wellies in the sky?" or "Wellies on the Run?" Having lived through these obsessions before, I didn't think much of it until I found myself posing int he back garden, per my previous post, or crouching in the grass, bugs crawling over me, nettles stinging my ankles, shooting up at a pair of Wellie boots as Dick dangled them overhead. Since then, we have taken Wellies on outings and posed them in various spots around town, much to the amusement and bafflement of the townspeople.

This shameless pandering to his fan base has now caused many of these shots to become "favorites" on Flickr, so I thought I'd share them with you here. Or you can view them at flickr.com/dickandcathy/photos
But be careful... you just might become a you-know-what...

Mont Saint Michel - An International Treasure

Legend has it that in the year 708, the Bishop of Avranche received a visitation from St. Michel, the warrior angel who protects the French nation. The angel told the Bishop to build a sanctuary in his honor at the top of a pyramid-shaped peak in the middle of a bay on the Normandy coast. The story of how this was accomplished – over a period that lasted from the year 1,000 to the present – is astonishing.

A traveler’s first view of the Abbaye is glimpsed across the flat green fields, dotted with sheep – its monumental shape and shining spire look like a visitation from another world… as you come closer, you see that it’s not a spacecraft after all, but an enormous granite fortification that rises above the tides of the bay. In its many lives, Mont Saint Michel has been a pilgrimage site, a Benedictine Abbey, an impregnable stronghold that held off the British during the Hundred Years War, a prison after the French Revolution, and finally a French national monument and UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Lovers of architecture will recognize the Romanesque arches, the Gothic columns and flying buttresses – it’s possible to see examples of architecture through the centuries as you wander through the building. What gave me chills was to imagine what it would be like to be a King of France, indulging himself in front of the roaring fire in the banquet room… a monk studying texts or meditating in the cloister…or a prisoner doing manual labor as punishment for his political beliefs, gazing longingly out the windows across the water. They have all walked where we were walking – the history of Western Civilization in one awe-inspiring package.

That's Entertainment!

Last week and weekend was full of fun stuff... at the beginning of the week, we created our own entertainment by staging photographs in the back yard. Being the wife of a photographer has its drawbacks - such as posing in my underpants and tee shirt, wearing M's wellie boots, in the back garden. I had to balance on one leg as if running, hanging onto a bush for support - you can see the result at left. This was especially scintillating since people around here are not formal - if they want to come visit you, they just walk into the house or the garden - wherever you happen to be. In fact, during last visit our elderly neighbor from down the street came over while we were working on a re-finishing project - gave us some loud advice in French (of which we understood two words) and then left... imagine if he'd stumbled onto this project! Oh lala!

Luckily, the professional entertainment kicked in before we went completely bonkers. Friday was the circus - we were as excited as a couple of kids - in fact, we were the only adults without children in attendance. Our enthusiasm was a bit dampened by the crabby circus attendant, who looked at Dick's camera, shook his finger in our faces, and said, "NO PHOTO, NO PHOTO, NO PHOTO!" Our guess is that they have had some trouble with the animal rights people, and we definitely looked out of place in the small town crowd of moms and kids... at any rate, the circus was awesome - jugglers, balancing acts (the amazing glass pyramid!), goats, camels, llamas, and ponies doing cool tricks - and they were very affectionate with their trainers. Dick managed to snap one illict photo at intermission (see left).

Then came the vide-grenier (literally, "cleaning the attic") which is a flea market held on this occasion in St. Martin de Vieux Belleme, just a kilometer or so from our house. In addition to eating, drinking, a lot of good-natured conversation, pony rides for the kids... there were some cool antiques for sale. And the village is picture perfect - if you didn't know better, you'd think the Disney company had been at it again...

The Fete de Musique was held all weekend all over the country - what a cool idea. Free music everywhere you go - I understand that in Paris they play music all night at the park surrounding the Eiffel Tower. We had a lovely local accordion band that played the sweetest possible music under the trees, with the late afternoon sunlight dappling down... and then for a something completely different, a screaming rock band at the Cafe du Midi, singing no songs in English except one that consisted of a single line "I'm on a highway to hell!" We sipped our wine, smiled demurely, and slipped away to listen to more accordions.

Piece de la resistance of the weekend was an overnight visit from our old friends Jim and Sarah, who have been traveling around France and spent their last night with us before leaving for Amsterdam. They thoughtfully brought several luscious bottles of wine, so a good time was had by all!

Today we're off to Mt. St. Michel - we figure we'd better see if before high season hits and every tourist in Europe decides to stop by. A bientot!

Village Life

I grew up in a small farm town - St. Johns, Michigan - and lived there until I was 16. Memories of St. Johns come back to me when I spend time here in Gue de la Chaine, because the kids here have the good luck, as I did, to grow up with simple pleasures like:

* Air that always smells sweet. Like grass, or hay, or flowers, or lavender, or rain...

* Friends that they've known since birth. They have a multitude of brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas watching over them. "It takes a village" has become a cliche, but it's true...

* Proximity to the natural world. They can spend hours lying in the grass, watching shining black beetles or fluffy little sparrows hopping... and play the game of "how still can you be? How close can you get?" Their hands get used to the stiffness of horsehair, the fluffiness of feathers, and finding treasures like polished chestnuts in the woods or rocks sparkling underwater at the lake.

* Feeling a part of the community, completely and irrevocably. As a child in a small town, you know your role in each event, from weddings, funerals and holidays to musical events and charity fundraisers. The year goes by in dependable cycles, based on traditional celebrations...

* Learning from some of the same teachers who taught your parents... and sometimes call you by your parent's name. I had a geometry teacher who called me "Jeannie" throughout my entire sophomore year of high school.

And the irony of it all is that most small town kids can't wait to get away from all the stifling closeness, the fact that everybody knows what you're doing, and get to where the action is - to the city, to a larger life - as did I. And now that I'm older, that slow village life, full of small pleasures, seems so appealing.

Food, Glorious Food

If you've been following us for a while, you know that an inordinate number of posts are about food... but what could be more important? Especially here in the beautiful, bountiful countryside where we eat breakfast, lunch and dinner at home and the available ingredients are so stunningly good - our lives have slowed down to the point that just the simple act of making a meal is like a meditation.

However, really silly things continue to happen when we do venture out to eat. Interestingly enough, the worst snafus have come through the ordering of a simple Steak Hache - a hamburger! Dick ordered a Steak Hache au Cheval (with an egg on top) in Paris and our waitress (who was British, by the way - no language barrier) decided to bring it to him without the egg because she didn't think he knew what he was ordering. Yesterday at lunch when we were out shopping in Mamers, he ordered Steak Hache Sandwich avec Frites - burger and fries, right? If you look at the photo, you'll see what he got - a baguette full of chopped steak and fries stuffed right inside with the meat - no plate - just set down right on the place mat - who knew?

We all know Dick is the true talent in this family, but his talent doesn't extend to ordering meals. In an instance eerily similar to the Mamers story above - he ordered French Toast for breakfast in Laos and got a giant plate of fries - I mean a MOUNTAIN... and in one of the great steakhouses of the world in Buenos Aires, he didn't order a steak, he ordered a Mixed Grill Criolla (the Irish have a phrase for this - "fookin' eejit"). The Mixed Grill included such unsavory bits as intestines that hadn't been completely cleaned out... you get the picture.

Meanwhile, everybody eats well in this little Eden of ours... sheep, cows, even camels grazing on the Champ de Foire, because the circus has come to town! We went to check out the circus while they were setting up yesterday, and the circus cook was merrily slitting the throats of chickens when we walked by her truck. Bon Appetit!

Summer is on the way...

I know this because every day something else bursts into bloom... the tomatoes are super ripe at the market... it stays light until 10:00 at night...the garden furniture is out... and because there are posters for summer events springing up around the countryside as well.

This coming weekend alone, we have the Summer Musicale in Vieux Belleme on Saturday and the Country Dancing Festival (!) on Sunday. "Country Dancing" doesn't mean a rustic clog dance - the poster shows photos of local folk packed tightly into cowboy duds, boots, hats and all. We'll report in post-event, so stay tuned.

Meanwhile, on the music scene, we spent a delightful evening last Friday at Le Jazz Club Reveillon (also known as Chez Bob). Run by an eccentric British couple, Bob and Shirley, it's a kind of jazzy dinner club set inside a 16th century farmhouse, the bar jammed with vacationing English people, but also plenty of locals and Parisian weekenders, all a little sunburned, conversing in multiple languages, and flushed from wine and excitement.

The entertainment on Friday night was a Dixieland group from Paris - quite good. They covered every old standard from "Georgia Brown" to "Basin Street Blues", which felt somewhat full circle to us, as we began this journey in New Orleans. Turns out that it really is full circle, as a number of the original Acadians - the French who emigrated to Canada and then moved south to New Orleans, where they were called Cajuns - are originally from La Perche. Accordions, violins and a Cajun beat can be heard in the traditional music CD's that they sell at the Belleme market... and you can see the connection in the rapt faces of the audience at Le Jazz Club, as they sing along to "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans". As Satchmo said, it's a wonderful world.

PHOTO ALERT - Revised

If any of you would like to view Dick's photos in a larger format and higher resolution, he now has them posted on flickr. These are slightly different than the blog photos, all though some are the same... the photos on flickr are his best "art" as opposed to blog illustration.

To reach the file, go to www.flickr.com/dickandcathy/photos. If for some reason this doesn't work, search for dixpix2009 on Google. Let us know if you have problems... thanks!

Weasels Ate My Underpants

I spaced out and left my favorite black bikinis on the clothesline overnight (I can’t stand those g-string things, but that’s a story for another day). When I went out to the garden to retrieve them in the morning, they were lying in the wet grass… I picked them up, then made a sound something like “gak!”… and dropped them again. My favorite undies were peppered with tiny teeth holes, and covered with a weird snotty animal substance.

Now, this wasn’t as scary as negotiating with machete-wielding 14-year-olds in New Guinea, or being dragged by an 80 pound rickshaw driver through a Maoist demonstration on the border between India and Nepal… it wasn’t as exciting either, but these and the weasel experience did have something in common.

They all remind me of an important lesson of travel – that it’s good to be taken out of your comfort zone and given the freedom to be a dork. It takes so much effort to be cool… it’s a privilege to be out in the great unknown where you’re often unintentionally dorky… you can’t speak the language properly (I once requested a wakeup call in Spain by asking “Please attack me in the morning” – dork!). The first time we went to the grocery in France, we didn’t know we had to weigh our produce ourselves and bring our own shopping bags until we got to the checkout – dorks! Dick’s bag didn’t show up in New Guinea, so he had to tour around in borrowed grey sweatpants several sizes too small for him – dork!

On this subject, I found this in my meditation book today:
“When we first contemplate the adventures of the world’s great explorers, we are struck with a feeling of the mystery and drama of discovery. We might picture them venturing into uncharted waters or exploring strange, new lands, but we tend not to think about the countless daily hardships and inconveniences – the mosquitoes, the rain, the boredom, the bad food. Yet that is all part of the journey as well. In the same way, the countless irritations and difficulties that present themselves in the course of practice are part of the extraordinary exploration of the nature of our own lives. It is easy to get so caught up in the details of our experience that we may lose touch with the vast scope of the context in which we are working.”

Yup – in other words,it’s all part of the adventure. And it’s OK to be a little bored, too, or sick, because that’s real life… sometimes weasels eat your underpants.

Rainy Day Entertainment

Rain, rain went away... but not until after blessing us with three days of chill, drizzly weather - felt like Northern California! Of course, no place could be this lushly green without getting some serious rain, but we're glad it's over. Here's how we kept ourselves entertained:

As promised, we headed to the Snail Farm, which was charming as a snail farm can possibly be. Phillippe, the owner, couldn't have been more friendly and funny or more enthusiastic about his little gray charges. We learned so many interesting facts about snails, such as:

* Snail sex lasts six hours. Phillipe claims this is normal in France.

* Snails have thousands of tiny litle razor sharp tongues, so they can chew up practically anything - rocks, steel, plastic.

* Snail slime is so tough and thick that snails can literally walk on the edges of sharp knives without being cut.

* Snail slime is also used as a medicine - it's the main ingredient in a lung decongestant, and is being researched as a cancer cure - the slime seems to isolate the cancer cells and not allow them to grow.

P's snails are also a bit tastier than those from other parts of the world because he raises a medium size snail (as opposed to petit gris) that matures more quickly so it can be eaten while it's young and juicy. And because he raises his snails on natural food, you can be sure that you're not eating a snail that has grown up, say, in the Ukraine, eating Chernobyl-irradiated rocks. We truly enjoyed our afternoon, and it would have been perfect if only our crack photo staff had remembered to put a card in his camera... unforunately, no photos.

However, we do have photos of the Cidrerie where we went for a tour and tasting yesterday - another charming and beautiful place, where Cider and Calvados are made in the traditional way. The apples are all locally grown, some on the farm where the cidrerie is located, and some on adjoining farms. The apples are then pressed and held in stainless steel tanks for cider fermentation. To make Calvados (fire water!) they take the cider and perform alambic distillation, then ferment in oak barrels to create a smooth and award-winning Calva - perfect for a cold and rainy night.

But today, the sun is out - so off to market we go!

Hommage a les Liberateurs

Yesterday was momentous for more than one reason - for the tennis fanatics among us, it was the day that Roger Federer won his rightful place in the pantheon of greats. We watched the match in a tiny little Tabac in Belleme, sipping a glass of vin rouge, rain drizzling down, everyone pounding on the bar at match point... and then the lovely sight of a beaming, benevolent Andre Agassi passing Fed the cup.

For the wider world, yesterday was the 65th anniversary of D Day and the Normandy landings; our elegant President was here to commemorate the occasion. There were signs everywhere for the celebration of "Hommage a les Liberateurs", which is heartwarming. It's nice to think that in some parts of the world, Americans are still thought of as heroes. The Obama family is certainly beloved in France - you can't pick up a magazine without finding an Obama photo spread.

Earlier in the week, we spent an idyllic day at the Chateau de Carrouges - just a few miles from here, northwest of Alencon. First we had a "picque-nicque" of fresh bread, charcuterie, cheese, cherries and madeleines... then a lazy walk through the gardens in the sun... then a tour of the Chateau in English with a very bright and perky French guide.

The story is that the Chateau was built for a "confidant" of the King back in the 14th Century. By the size and grandeur of the place, I'm guessing that "confidant" meant "knows where all the bodies are buried". The grand old place stayed in the confidant's family until they ran out of male heirs, and it was on to another family through an arranged marriage to the only surviving female heir. A portrait of the happy couple hangs in the banquet room - he's handsome in a devilish kind of way, and she looks like she bites the heads off chickens... a real estate deal, not a love match. Nice house, though.

Tennis in Gue de la Chaine has become a bit more dangerous than in the past - the collie dog belonging to Madame Souchet, from whom you have to pick up the tennis court key, has gotten older and crankier since our last visit. You get a definite adrenalin rush sprinting from Madame Souchet's from door to the garden gate with collie snapping at your bum - good warmup!

Expected to rain tomorrow, so we'll take advantage of that to make an outing to the snail farm - great weather for it... 'til then, au revoir.

News from the Sleepy Countryside

I'm just getting over a jet lag cold, so I'm sitting outside our charming little cottage re-creating a scene from European films - the one where the frail and elderly person (that would be me) sits catatonically in the sun in the bountiful green garden of the sanitarium, surrounded by birdsong.

The birds here in Normandy are profuse and musical - I hear sounds that I've heard nowhere else, from the easily recognizable (the cuckoo - duh) to intricate melodies that never sound the same twice.... it's magical.

We were certainly busy today doing nothing - here's the rundown:

8:00 Roll over and decide that since the sun has been shining in the window since 6:00, it's time to get up. We always know what time it is, since the church bell in the village tolls every 15 minutes - such a reassuring sound. Make coffee, heat milk, warm croissants, cut melon, open yogurt. We suffered a minor crisis this week, as madame who runs the bakery in Gue de la Chaine is on vacation until Sunday -as a result of which we have to eat croissants and baguettes that were baked the day before, rather than walking down the street and getting them straight from the oven... the things we have to endure.

9:30 After lazy, leisurely breakfast, get dressed and take the car a couple of kilometers to Belleme, where it's market day! No one recognizes us yet, since we haven't been around long, but in the past we've been acknowledged by the townspeople after we've been in town a week or so... usually because we're the only people who ever use the town tennis courts. We buy a kilo of fresh spring peas, 4 of the smallest, sweetest, most delicious melons on earth (the lady at the market threw in an extra one for me because it had a blemish on the side) and pork tenderloin.

12:00 Shell peas. This has been one of my favorite tasks since childhood, but it's taking a little longer today since Dick has taken to photographing all our food - he can't resist because everything is so beautiful.

1:00 Soup for lunch, made with local sausage and veggies - of course, we have photos of that, too! Then a nap - it's been an exhausting day so far.

2:30 Depart for the Controle Technique in Mortagne to get M&J's car registered. Controle Technique is kind of a combo road test/smog test that one's car must pass each year. When we went to the CT office a couple of days ago, the gentleman at the desk told me that "we must make a rendezvouz". I thought "Well, he's really not my type, but this is France, after all, and if that's what I have to do to get the car registered..." Then realized that a rendez - vouz is an appointment. Whew! I made a rendez-vouz for today, and here we are. My potential date fills out a computer form, drives the car, looks under the hood - all the while Dick is pacing around the office muttering "this sucker better pass" - dreading the thought of having to go to the local garage and explain any needed repairs. But no worries - Monsieur returns, all smiles, with the appropriate stickers, handshakes all around. 65 Euros later, we're on the road again!

4:00 Check email and French Open Draw - I can hardly stand to look at that awful Robin Soderling's name. I can't believe he knocked Rafa out of the tournament -too upsetting, must have a drink.

5:00 Wine in the garden and back to the sanitarium scene. Sheep next door are bleating away - must be dinner time - and the white cattle out in the pasture look as lazy as I do. That's all for now... must rest.

Roland Garros - Le Grand Slam du Monde

We’ve had some connection issues out here in the countryside, but we’re online again – hooray! So we can finally tell all our tennis-loving friends about our two amazing days at The French Open…

Five Ways to Know You’re at Roland Garros

1. The Red Clay. We’ve all seen it on TV, in Tennis Magazine, in countless photos… but nothing prepares you for the richness of the courts’ color, especially since many players this year are wearing vivid pink (vamos, Rafa!), turquoise and yellow, which look impossibly bright against the red-orange terre bateau.

2. The Fashion. During these early days of the tournament, many in the crowd are Parisians taking the day off for an outing to watch Le Tennis – or to watch other people watching them... Of course, the ladies are wearing skirts that either fit like a second skin or look like a kind of bubble, painfully high stilettos with teeny weeny pinchy toes (so practical for strolling the grounds) and exquisite accessories. The gentlemen? They’re decked out in those Italian suits that appear to be one or two sizes too small, with pastel silk shirts and perfect haircuts. For the rest of us – jeans and tee shirts, accessorized with a tres chic sweatshirt and baseball cap.

3. The Smoking. What could be more refreshing than a quick cigarette between sets? According to the fans at Roland Garros, nothing! Dick was sitting in the stands having a cigarette between sets at the Davydenko-Wawrinka singles match, and the gentleman in front of us kept turning around and squirming… I was mortified, thinking that he was going to ask Dick to put it out – but au contraire! He just wanted to bum a smoke…

4. The Food. I wasn’t expecting chili dogs and tortilla chips, but the cuisine served at Le Jardin Roland Garros exceeded all expectations: on Friday, we enjoyed salmon brochettes, vegetable mélange, rice and an arugula salad, accompanied by a nice glass of vin blanc, d’accord.

5. The Charm. Although it was incredibly crowded on both days (especially for those of us who only held outer court tickets) the mood was wonderfully festive. Clowns dressed like tennis players entertained us while we waited in lines, people from all over the world helped each other to stand up on chairs so we could collectively gawk at the big name players during warm-up, and the staff at every concession stand and boutique could not have been more perky – every transaction ended with a cheery “Merci, madame – bonne journee!”

In short, it was wonderful fun. And – oh, yeah – the tennis! We focused on doubles, because we could watch the best doubles players in the world, sitting as close as if we were at home – Bob Bryan and Lisel Huber (#1 male/female doubles players in the world), as well as Lisa Raymond, Rennae Stubbs, Daniela Hantuchova, Ai Sugiyama, Nestor/Zimanjic (seeded right behind the Bryans in this tournament) and a match between Cuevas/Horna and Knowles/Melzer that ended in a dive to the clay for the winning point – it was featured on French TV for days!

And everyone’s into it - you can’t pass a brasserie, bistro, café, tabac, or restaurant that doesn’t have tennis on TV. When we got to our hotel on Tuesday, there was even a board up in the lobby listing the day’s matches – and a betting pool where guests could make a wager on the winners. Everyone is talking tennis – and especially about the French players, of whom Parisians are so proud… our waiter the first night said, “Jo Willy – mon garcon!” No matter what the language, tennis is an international subculture that transcends - and makes us all, for a few shining days, compatriots.

Where is home?

One thing that's been difficult to explain to various people that we've met along the way is where we actually live... Dick, of course, likes to say that we're homeless - I'd rather describe us as nomadic! If home is where our friends are, we have many homes... the Bay Area certainly feels like home, as we had several serendipitous meetings while we were there. When visiting Cafe Oliveto in the East Bay, we ran into my colleague Debby Kelly from Tilia, with her husband Patrick and new baby Emma... while shopping in Mill Valley, who should wait on us at Tyler Florence but an old friend from Muir Beach, Barbara Herwitz... and of course we saw many former friends and foes on the tennis courts... nowhere to hide! I think the truth is that in this modern world, home is wherever we are, as long as we have our cell phone and computer.

We finished our California visit with a grand stay at Margaret and John's in Fairfax - including fun tennis, truffle pasta, fine wines, and an excellent Memorial Weekend party on Sunday. John was kind enough to drive us all the way to the airport on Monday (early) morning, and we set off on our bon voyage to Paris. Whee!!!

Walked off our jet lag with a dose of beauty at the Musee D'Orsay today, and look forward to two days at the French Open.

Hot Tubs and Peacock Feathers?

The cliche image of Marin County is that 70's idea of hot tubs and peacock feathers... and although I will admit to a bit of hot-tubbing in my day, the Marin County we know and love is so much more than that. We experienced the best of it this week with our friends Pam and Jerry. Waking up to the sunlight through the trees in Madrone Canyon, drinking coffee and watching the sun rise over the Bay, smelling the good warm redwood smells of the forest - that's the real thing.

We spent a day with Pam in West Marin at Pt. Reyes, which I'm guessing is one of the great small towns in this country. Lunch at Stellina to celebrate (belatedly) Pam's and Dick's birthdays - all locally grown ingredients and the freshest tastes on earth. Walking down the street, we noticed signs in the store windows to mourn the loss of one of Pt. Reyes' young men in Iraq - such a waste. He was obviously beloved in the town, but he'll never again shiver in the morning fog, then enjoy the slowly mounting warmth as the sun burns it away... never taste a briny Tomales Bay oyster, smell that beery, cheery smell when someone opens the door of the Western Saloon, or whiff the sharp tang of cheese in the making at Cowgirl Creamery. We're grateful for his sacrifice, and for the reminder that life is to be cherished.

Days of Wine and Roses

Yes, roses! Thousands of the beautiful, blowsy blooms everywhere we look - in the gardens at Filoli, on the lawns of Marin County, at the ends of the vine rows in Napa - red, yellow, coral, purple, pink. Roses were traditionally planted at the ends of vine rows to serve as the "canaries in the coal mine"; apparently they are botanically similar to grapevines, so if the roses begin to show signs of mildew or other disease, the vineyard manager knows to check up on his viniferous charges. That's fascinating and all... but the important thing is that the roses look magnificent against the perfect emerald green rows.

Saturday night was a reunion with old Wine Country friends - it seemed as if we had never left - great conversation and great vintages combined to make it a memorable evening. And everyone in the group seems to be at a crossroads in their life, as are we... interesting times.

Greg (our encyclopedic friend - who needs Google when we have Greg?) quoted a wonderful poem that's going to be our new motto:

"We're on the road to come what may
Over the hills and far away..."

California Here We Come...

… right back where we started from... sometimes I feel like the luckiest person on the planet. I’m sitting in our room at Michaela and Greg’s in Napa Valley – the sun is coming up and I have a corner view of green vine rows stretching to the horizon, birds chirping, olive trees shading the window. Yes – this is where we started from –and where my heart is, whever it is we may live.

Have had a whirlwind first week back in California – two days with ML, Peter and their two long-haired dachsunds, Sunny and Shadow (AKA “the girls”)… lots of tennis, laughter and catching up. Then a stay with Melanie and Andy in their charming home in the Berkeley hills, meeting their friendly and erudite neighbors and making a girls day trip to Filoli, a garden estate in Woodside that’s in the National Trust for Historic Preservation.

The estate was once owned by the Cunard family, of the Cunard and Matson shipping lines, and there was an interesting family connection for me… my grandparents traveled to Hawaii on the Cunard liner Lurline in the 50’s. Each night on the ship passengers were presented with the evening’s menu, printed on heavy paper, the covers illustrated with fantastic Gaugin-like paintings of Hawaiian native life. My grandmother brought these home to me, and I used to spend hours in my room, studying the illustrations and fantasizing about a life spent visiting exotic places...one of the sources of my lifelong wanderlust.

The connection? When Mel and I were touring the house – there were the menus – framed and lining the walls of the kitchen… just as colorful and exotic and fascinating as those childhood memories.

While the girls were admiring the flowers and the Hawaiian menus, Dick and his friend Peter Mock did a locals tour of Chinatown, enjoying a lunch that included many dried and delicious delicacies...

Golden Days...

Sorry we've been out of touch for a few days... we were happily lost in the Gold Country at the home of our friends Gabriele and Peter - no internet access... just golden hills, green oak trees, balmy weather, a fabulous full moon in clear starlit skies, and good friends to share it with. They have a beautiful home in Coarsegold, California, near Yosemite National Park. Coarsegold isn't easy to get to - it took us three days from Colorado, including a night in Las Vegas, where Dick won $141 playing poker - woo hoo! We stayed at the Paris Casino, which we thought was apropos, since we'll soon be seeing the real thing...

We also visited Baker,("Gateway to Death Valley!" "World's Largest Thermometer!"), Barstow, Bakersfield, and other not-so-scenic spots en route. And we discovered, while having cocktails with Gaby and Peter's neighbors in Coarsegold, that there is a Tarantula Festival in Oakhurst, which includes a Hairy Leg Contest, usually won by one of the local ladies. Who knew - this is creative entertainment at its best!

Saving the West

If there's anything that we've learned in driving around the West for the last month, it is that the natural beauty of this country is unique and uniquely worth saving... it's a treasure far beyond our economic woes.

The effects of global climate change are evident in the Rockies - the Ponderosas have been infested with bark beetles - the trees are in a weakened condition because of drought and are dying by the thousands - the grey skeletons of dead trees and the rusty red foilage of the dying ones create a nightmare scenario around Dillon and Vail.

And the kind of sprawling development we witnessed makes us wonder what (or if) human beings are thinking. We drove last night through Spanish Fork, Utah - possibly one of the most stunning places we've ever been - the amazing mountains and meadows are covered with ticky tacky brown box houses, as far as the eye can see...

Dick and Melanie had a fantastic time as fellow photographers these last few days, documenting the beauty of the area. I hope our generation can ensure that when our nieces and Mel's grandchildren come to visit the mountains in a decade or two, that beauty is still there for them to see.

Rocky Mountain High

It's so satisfying to see that the world has not lost its wackiness - we're visiting small towns around Estes Park, Colorado, with friends Mel and Randy... and wondering if it's the altitude that causes the excellent eccentric behavior in these parts. We spent some time today in Ward, Colorado - unarguably the best junkyard we've seen. Once a year, on a specified date, a hermit comes down from his place in the mountains above the town of Ward, dressed in a loincloth, and challenges all comers to a "rassle". Each year several of the town's strongest take him on - but nobody's beaten him yet. Randy thinks this has something to do with the loincloth thing...

Then there's the "Frozen Dead Guy" Festival in Nederland, Colorado. Apparently when one of the local guys lost his beloved grandfather, he decided to keep Gramps around by putting him on dry ice in the Tuff Shed behind his house. This amateur cryogenic technique actually worked - he just brought in new dry ice periodically to keep the temperature consistent. Some of the more uptight citizens of Nederland (didn't know there were any...) took him to court, as they were concerned about health issues - but they lost. So, in celebration, there is a Frozen Dead Guy Festival every year in March, which includes a hearse parade, coffin races, toasts to Gramps (he's still chillin'), and other festivities - sponsored in part by Tuff Sheds, of course.

Life and Love - they sure taste good

We have been nourished in so many ways on this adventure of ours... nourished by the warmth and strength of old friendships, by the beauty of the landscape, by the velvety muzzles of horses and the goofy smiles of dogs. But the strongest bond of all, it seems - the thread that ties it all together - is food, glorious food.

There's a reason that breaking bread and sharing wine is the foundation of religious ceremony around the world... nothing is more symbolic of shared life and love. Our friends have shared their homes and their delicious food with us for thousands of miles now - and we're truly grateful. The ultimate dining experience of the trip for us happened this week, at Frasca in Boulder, the restaurant owned by our friends Bobby and Danette Stuckey (and their partner, the talented chef Lachlan McKinnon-Patterson).

At Frasca, where they specialize in the wine and food of Friuli, you feel that there's a genuine delight in sharing the excellence of the meal... this is not a temple of haute cuisine, but a room full of happy people, talking, laughing and enjoying the food, the company, and the moment. The energetic, fresh-faced, bright people who work there truly understand what they're serving - they all go to Italy together each year to visit the wineries, restaurants, artisan bakers and cheesemakers of Friuli so that they can assure the most authentic experience possible. (And, as a former manager, I'm thinking a bit of bonding goes on there as well - the staff's friendship and teamwork are palpable).

My wish for all my friends is that they might have the chance to experience it just once - awards and given rave reviews are great, but you have to taste for yourself... buon appetito!

This cowgirl definitely doesn't have the blues!

All my childhood cowgirl fantasies were realized this week in Durango. I used to want to be Roy Rogers (never Dale - what a wimp!) or Hopalong Cassidy... riding horses uphill at a breakneck pace, or chasing the bad guys across the desert. Luckily for the grown-up me, we spent two days with our friends Ben and Birgitta, their son Sam, their five horses, three dogs and two cats, on a fabulous spread in Bayfield, just outside Durango, Colorado. Heaven on earth for fantasy cowgirls! I got to ride bareback (a first) and then charge up and down hills (after a minor meltdown) just like in the movies.

Dick had a small mishap when his horse, Spirit, decided to run under a tree - but we decided that the scar looks very distinguished - kind of like a dueling scar, don't you think? (See photo). Luckily, he's a very good and calm rider, so no bolting or serious excitement.

Ben is a childhood friend of Dick's - they spent many happy hours gossiping about everyone they've known since grade school... and Birgitta taught me so much while we hung out happily with the herd. We went to Sam's track meet (they almost set a school record!), visited the hot springs in charming Pagosa Springs - and the guys solved all the world's problems, from the stock market to potential new sources of energy.

Then we drove on two-lane "blue highways" through the Rockies to Boulder - breathtaking in terms of scenery and in terms of oncoming cars. Safely at the Stuckeys - Happy Trails to You!

Awesome

Another overused word - but "awesome" is the only word that appropriately describes the Grand Canyon. As many times as we've seen it, the Canyon never fails to inspire awe - perhaps expressed best by listening to tourists from all over the world as they approach the rim - the collective gasps and "wows" in many languages say it all... not to mention the two little Japanese ladies who were singing to the Canyon, complete with dramatic hand gestures.

We reminisced a bit about our Grand Canyon hike with Todd & Bonnie - we walked down unmaintained trails to the bottom of the canyon - with Dick wearing Hush Puppies(!) Then we slept a dreamless sleep on the warm rocks beside the mighty Colorado... with the help of the bottle of cognac we had schlepped down with us. Those were the days...

Our stop at the Canyon took a little longer than we anticipated (although well worth it) and then our drive across the Navajo Nation to Durango took waaaaaay longer than we thought it would - but it has to be one of the most amazing drives on earth. Every shade of purple, green, yellow, orange, red and pink, against the blue blue sky... sometimes it looks like a moonscape of rippled dunes, sometimes a pinnacle standing alone on the desert - then there's Ship Rock (looks just like a ship!) and other wind sculptures that are mind blowing in their complexity - topped by a precariously balanced rock. The names of the towns evoke memories as well as some giggles... Cameron, Tuba City, Kayenta, Mexican Water - we even saw what we termed the Jewish Steak House - Yippee Kai Ai Oi...

In Durango today with Ben and Birgitta - hopefully some horseback riding ahead!

Sunday at the Vortex

I'm not sure about Sedona's reputation as a "power spot", but this picturesque place sure provided some big fun for our family on Sunday!

On Saturday, we watched Logan's Little League Game wearing four layers of clothing and bundled in three blankets that my compassionate niece Danika provided... cold temperatures and freezing winds just about did us in, but we hung in there 'til the end. Unfortunately, L's team lost, but it was fun to see the kids gain confidence and perform better as the game went on - plus, he had the biggest cheering section - there were 8 of us (counting family and friends) rooting on the Dodgers!

However, we needed some thawing out on Sunday, and Sedona provided the perfect opportunity. Basking in the sun, under the protective gaze of the super-charged rocks, we warmed ourselves to the bone. And then, of course, ate ice cream in Sedona before the drive back to Flagstaff through Oak Creek Canyon - green poplars, silver sycamores and the burbling creek below the old stone resorts.

Bummer...

Lesson learned: never follow a major truck down the freeway - because you can't see what's ahead of the truck... as in a huge blown truck tire that we hit on I-10 between Tucson and Phoenix... tore the spoiler off poor Mini and did some damage to her compressor, radiator and undercarriage as well. The good news? It was driveable and we were within an hour of the only Mini dealership in Arizona. The folks at Mini of Scottsdale were incredible - our rep, Devin, handled the damages and the insurance company (we don't want to talk about them) with aplomb and had us on our way by Friday.

Meanwhile, we drove our rental car to Tempe and spent the evening with our friend Roni, who is a culinary school graduate - served us luscious tapas and wine... with every sip, bite and bit of conversation, the hassles of the day disappeared. We missed her husband, Rob, who is (I hope I get this right) the Executive Director of the Sustainability Institute at ASU and was traveling on a politically important trip... and Roni was on her way to (where else?) Miami Beach to enjoy a reunion with college friends.

An uneventful drive to Flagstaff and we're here at my brother's enjoying Wii and Little League games... more to come.

The Wild Wild West!

Three days in funky and wonderful Bisbee, Arizona with our friends Jim and Sara, plus their dogs Omar, Lucky Mo, Dylan Thomas and a visiting pug named Maude. I remember Bisbee from my college days in Tucson as an historic Phelps Dodge mining town... but was mostly interested in the bars in those days (!) In my mellower old age, I'm loving the gingerbread houses climbing the hills, the local artists, the local characters and the incredibly beautiful "sky islands" in the Chiricahua National Forest.

What a great community - town tennis courts are never locked, there's a minor league baseball field, 4th of July fireworks and a soap box derby, and miles and miles of hiking trails through high desert, mountains, and lush forests. Last night we were going to drive a few miles to Mexico for dinner, but chickened out when Jim mentioned that there had been a gun battle in front of the restaurant a while back... visited the old Gadsen Hotel in Douglas where there's still a crack in the stairs from the time Pancho Villa rode his horse up to his room - that was wild enough for us.

Once again, so sad to leave our friends... after all these years, it's as if we've never been apart. Jim and Sara always share warm hearts, plenty of conversation (both silly and serious), great food, fun hikes and at least 3 loving doggies...

New Mexico Dreamin'

Drove the high road from Taos to Santa Fe today... and on to Socorro. Images of New Mexico will stay with us...

* Handsome young Pueblo man, shining black ponytail, obsidian eyes, silver hatband on his black hat, leaning back on his heels in his bootcut jeans, talking on a cell phone in Taos Plaza

* The cook at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House who found yak roasts to serve visiting Tibetan monks... because her neighbor outside Taos grazes yaks in his pastures

* The little brown church at Sanctuario de Chimayo, where handicapped, injured or ill pilgrims use the dirt from the river bottom to heal themselves

* Panoramic views from the High Road - tall mountains shrouded in white snow, foothills in the middle distance, soft pink and dotted with sage, green fields where black horses graze. Reminds me of my mother's favorite Navajo prayer...

It is beautiful above me
It is beautiful below me
It is beautiful beside me
It is beautiful outside
It is beautiful inside
It is beautiful all around me

White on White

I opened the curtains this morning and actually said "Yikes!" (Yes, Nick - I said "Yikes!"...) because the scenery was completely white... sagebrush, mountains, roads, cars, buildings. What a wonderful world!

Did our best to play tourist today in spite of the snow - loved a visit to the Mabel Dodge Luhan House - the Casa de Gallo - such a gracious and graceful spot. People in Taos are so genuinely kind; everyone drives very slowly (even when it's not snowing) and they stop to let each other go first - and owners in the galleries always say "welcome" and "thanks for stopping in" even when they know you couldn't possibly afford their fabulous but costly art. I had a long chat with the cook at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House - and after an offer of tea and scones we were pretty much left alone to wander about this monument to the counterculture. Stieglitz and O'Keefe, DH Lawrence and Frieda, plus John Reed and other leftwing politicos used to come for conversation with Mabel - Dennis Hopper even owned the house in the '70's for a while.

Sitting in front of the fire, coffee in hand (spiked with some good Appleton rum), weightless clumps of snow melting and drifting down off the trees like feathers... what a wonderful world!

Yesterday is a memory, tomorrow is a dream...

...but today is Dick's birthday! So we've had a rip-roaring day so far, with more to come, I'm sure. We started the day with a visit to the Cadillac Ranch - ten Cadillacs buried grill-down in the Texas plains, installed by an artist's collective called the Ant Farm back in 1974... a great example of folk art at its best. While viewing the Cadillacs, we ran into a darling young girl named Britanny, who is touring the US with her mother promoting hugs! What a trip - after answering an interview question about our most meaningful hugs, we hugged and went on our way. Very sweet - and a great birthday treat.

As we left Amarillo, we passed Dumas, Texas - origin of that great country song "I'm a Ding Dong Daddy From Dumas" - the title of which never failed to crack up my own dear old Dad...

When we crossed the border into New Mexico, it was like a different world - the light is different - the sky is bluer - mountains grow up out of the plains and the sagebrush waves in the breezes... fabulous drive up to Taos. As soon as we checked into the Sagebrush Inn (old and charming - and cheap cheap cheap on hotels.com!) we went straight to Taos Pueblo, which is the oldest continuously inhabited community in the US. It never fails to take my breath away - the unmistakable fragrance of pinon smoke in the air, the blue blue sky and the snow still on the mountains... the wooden doors painted that perfect faded turquoise... we couldn't be anywhere else. The agency I used to work for did promotions for Taos and the surrounding communities (Angel Fire Ski Area, for one), and it's always held a special magic for me.

Enjoy the photos - we've had drinks by the fire and are planning our birthday dinner for tonight - it's supposed to snow tomorrow, so there may be more fireside chats to come. (This was written on April 16, but posted on April 17 - photos of snow to come!)

King Tut, Margie and Other Friends...

Yes - we had some urban adventures in Dallas, including tennis with our niece Katie and a visit to the King Tut Exhibit at the Dallas Art Museum. Did we walk like Egyptians? Of course! Amazing artifacts, including a bronze chest engraved with depictions of activities around the palace that looked pretty much what we were doing at Lori and Charlie's - eating, drinking, and sharing family gossip.

Then we spent a day with our old friend Jerri, who lives in a charming house in East Dallas - we walked down Swiss Avenue and admired the fabulous old mansions dating from the 20's and 30's... lawns green, flowers blooming, like an English garden. We were accompanied by Margie, Jerri's new companion, who gave us immediate doggy kisses and became our new best friend. And the real "icing on the cake" was that Bobby (oops - now Robert) Bellamy, second only to Jerri as a raconteur, joined us for cocktails... lots of laughter about 30-year old exploits and youthful indiscretions... check out this article about his business at:
http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/news/city/lakewood/stories/DN-fdluxe_fobhome_1204fas.State.Edition1.4a59c24.html

After a tearful departure from Jerri's (tearful because we were sad to leave - also tearful because we shut her wrist in the automatic window of the car - ouch!) we drove past Memphis, Happy, Paris, and Hope, Texas to Amarillo... and tomorrow is Taos - so next post will be from chilly New Mexico.

Long, Tall Texans...

Happy Easter! We were sad to leave Nick and Andrea today (photos coming soon)... Teaching at Tarleton University in Stephenville, they are on a mission to bring liberal arts education and literature to Central Texas - and they're a most entertaining host and hostess. Went last night to Mary's Chicken Fried Steak - the one and only time I've ever enjoyed that dish - usually tastes like breaded mystery meat, but Mary's was divine... peppery gravy and Shiner Beer... mmmmmmm. Lest you think we've done nothing but eat, we did make an expedition to an old cemetery with Civil War era graves - and the confederate flags are stilling wavin', ya'll. The history of the county, from flu pandemics to an entire family wiped out in a car accident in the 50's, is reflected in that small plot of ground.

It's interesting to be in such an authentic place. I don't think I could live here, but I really admire the fact that there is a culture here that lives on despite the gentrification and "genericization" (if there is such a word) of much of the country. Note to Vikki: Lots of FoodSaver customers here - huntin', fishin' and livestock.

Today we're in Dallas with Dick's sister and her family, so we'll have some urban adventures to report shortly. Cheers!

Soul Food, Jalapeno Ice Cream, Tex Mex and Brats...

Sorry we haven't posted in a couple of days - we've been staying with friends, so we've had real people to talk to! Stayed with Dick's cousin Kathy and her husband Jerry in Austin - a great evening in their beautiful house - and now with our beloved friend Nick in Stephenville, Texas - Dairy Capitol of Texas...

We've been eating our way across the country - but great regional eats only. On our way out of New Orleans, we spent a day on the blue highways - took the Cajun Coast drive through charming old towns like Franklin and Jeanerette... ate at the L&M Bistro, which turned out to be the local soul food source. After I'd asked "what's a shrimp wrap" and Dick asked "what's a smothered pork chop?" the very sweet, patient young man waiting on us said, "Y'all aren't from around here, are you?" BTW - smothered pork chops are ambrosia... the afternoon included a pilgrimage to the Tabasco factory on Avery Island - saw the egret rookery with thousands of nesting birds, white against the blue sky - and the grand finale was - jalapeno ice cream! After a relaxing night in Lake Charles, Louisiana - resting our digestive systems - we literally ended up in hog heaven... Hinze's BBQ (tag line: "Put Some Pork on That Fork!") located somewhere between Houston and Austin. Chicken, ribs and three sides for $9.99 - now that's eatin'.

But wait - there's more! On our way from Austin to Stephenville, as we crawled past the Lonely L Longhorn Ranch and a vet's office that advertised "Rattlesnake Vaccine - $17", we found Eve's Cafe in Lampasas, Texas - home of real German cooking. The Texas Hill Country was settled by Germans, and their legacy lives on at Eve's. Bratwurst and sauerkraut, Westfalia Ham sandwich with horseradish - and after we found Nick's house, he took us to nirvana - the first great Tex Mex we've had in three years! So now we're going to get some Pepto Bismol and hit the sack - on to Dallas and some great deli food... Happy Easter/Passover to all!

Do ya know what it means to miss New Orleans?

We have a 20-year secret love affair with New Orleans... N.O. is like the skanky girl your Mom told you not to hang around with, but you did anyway, because no one - no one! - had more fun. Through the past two decades, we have collected some amazing New Orleans memories:

* Going to Commander's Palace with a group that included Julia Child - Mrs. Brennan and the entire waitstaff was standing at attention by the gate to the restaurant when we arrived - handsome old waiters with their white serviettes over their arms... and they served us Sazeracs and champagne cocktails from silver trays in the garden...

* Visiting a voodoo priestess - my sister and I writing our wishes and placing them on an altar to Marie Laveaux - in a courtyard overrun with chickens and goats... all taking place a block from the soaring office towers on Canal Street...

* Dancing with fat old ladies, little kids and skinny guys in cowboy hats at a real Cajun fete de dieu at the old Tipitina's on Napoleon Street... everyone laughing, drinking and enjoying the music of Clifton Chenier...

* Renting an apartment on Dauphine Street and walking at sunrise to the French Market to pick up beignets for breakfast. Uncharacteristically peaceful - most of the revelers finally gone home to bed - and the streets gleaming from the recent passage of the streetsweeper - sharp smell of chicory coffee in the air.

All this and more - and yet we made a new discovery this trip - the old Ursuline Convent down by the Cathedral. Built in 1745, full of historic treasures, including a letter to the sisters from Thomas Jefferson, whose eloquent prose still jumps off the page two centuries later. Sitting in the quiet garden, companionable with sculptures and chirping birds - this is what it must have been like when New Orleans was just a small French town on a big muddy river.

The Macho Corridor

Hi, ya'll! We're in New Orleans, ready to set out on a stroll around the Quarter... but I have to tell you about the drive from Tallahassee to Mobile... I call it the Macho Corridor. But before I explain why, check it out - the two items below are actual billboards spotted along the way (I won't editorialize - I'll leave that to you):

It's a small world.
I know - I created it.
-- God

God, Guns and Guts
Made America Great

Whew! And in addition, there are more fireworks available along this route than possibly anywhere in the world - and the available roadside attractions include Don Garlitz Drag Car Museum, The Museum of Naval Aviation, The Museum of Sports Art, and the Armed Forces Museum. A fantasy drive for the macho man... as for my wimpy, girly self, I enjoyed the wildflowers growing along the freeway - yellow, purple, red, and white - absolutely amazing - flowering fruit trees and egrets and herons rising out of the swamp. So there was something for everybody today - including a shrimp Po Boy at a truck stop that was out of this world - then soft shelled crab when we got to N'Orleans... I'm taking a fried food break today. When we get some photos we'll post!

On the road again...

We did it... packed the damn pods, packed the Mini to the rooftop (so much for having the top down - we look like the Beverly Hillbillies) spent our last night in Boca at the luxurious digs of our friends Cathy & Bob, then hit the road on Sunday morning... sad to leave friends and fabulous weather... but excited for the adventures ahead. We have photos to post, but the writeandshoot team is currently the writeandsmoke team... our photographer is not yet prepared to dig into cyberworld and post the images. Can't pretend that the first day was exhilarating... although it was interesting to watch the terrain turn from tropical to "Old South"... green green green with gauzy moss hanging from the trees and kudzu in abundance. Our first night in Tallahassee was pleasant - actually found a cool little bistro - twinkly lights in the trees as we sat on the patio and a luscious Greek lamb burger - Edna Valley Syrah - very civilized.

I just opened up my Meditation book to a random page this morning, and here's what came up: "Each place you come to is unique, and it is all to be explored. But this is only possible if you travel light (!) without attachment to what has come before, without comparing, and without giving up. Faith means trusting the unfolding process of our lives. It is a willingness to let go of fears and attachments and open ourselves to the unknown in each new moment." Hmmm... next stop New Orleans - hope to have a new moment to share from that fascinating place. Cheers!

The "J" Word

Sorry about the cryptic reference to the "j" word in the last post -that has to do with the current over-use of the word "journey"... as in "my spiritual journey". My friend Kathy lives in Mill Valley, California, which in addition to being picturesque and delightful, tucked into the redwood studded foothills of Mt. Tam, is the virtual epicenter of self-absorption in the U.S. Believe me, the irony of someone who's writing a blog complaining about self-absorption is not lost on me... so when I use the word "journey", I mean it in the literal sense of travel, not as in a metaphorical life path...

Life is a daring adventure...

I've always loved it that Helen Keller said, "Life is a daring adventure or it is nothing." Although she could neither hear nor see, Ms. Keller got it that adventures are all around us - not to sound too disgustingly Pollyanna-like - if we only open up to them rather than whining about the lack of comfort, unavailability of good coffee, or whatever. So after a fascinating adventure in corporate life, we are ready to get "Back in the Good Old World" as the Tom Waits song goes... I warn you that some of these posts may be really boring ("Great beef jerky at the truck stop!" "My left hip hurts from sitting for 6 hours straight in the Mini") but we'll try to keep you entertained - we miss you all and hope you'll come with us (at least virtually) on our journey. Apologies to Kathy B for using the "j" word...