Mary Clark, Traveler

From Serbia to Paris, Texas via a Concentration Camp

2012-02-05T11:45:00.000-08:00

This is part of a series of occasional articles about individuals who have traveled to Lamar County to live.

Paul Bayer’s journey to Paris began as World War II wound down in Eastern Europe and with a grandmother who saved his life more than once. Paul was born on November 2, 1941 into an upper crust family who owned 100 acres of land in what was then St Georgen, Serbia. Germans had settled in this area after the break- up of the Ottoman Empire 200 years before. With high producing farms, it was a tidy, industrious enclave of what would later become Yugoslavia. When WWII started, Paul’s father was conscripted into the German army. But the family’s real travails began as the war ended and Yugoslav guerillas arrived and began moving German speaking citizens around.

In 1945, Paul’s mother was sent to a work camp on the Romanian border. She did not to see her parents or children for three years. Their farm was given to a Slavik family. Paul and his sisters were placed in a concentration camp of 28,000 where his maternal grandmother, Anna Nothof, used her Red Cross training to treat the sick. Thin soup and bread barely kept them alive. Cow dung was searched for undigested corn kernels to clean, grind and eat. Kept in the basement at night, the children’s shirts were inspected each morning for lice. When Paul and his sister came down with diphtheria, his grandmother was able to obtain the toxin injection to save them. Paul also survived typhus. But in the first winter, his paternal grandmother died of starvation as did his great grandmother and one-third of the camp.

When packages from relatives in America were cut off in 1947, Anna realized she and her husband would have to escape with their seven grandchildren in order to survive. After bribing a sentry guard, they set out on September 12th at 2:00 AM to walk to the Hungarian border, about 50 miles away.

The journey took two months and three days. They were caught twice and returned to camps. While on the run, Paul remembers sitting inside corn sheaves during the day and being admonished to be quiet while it was light. His grandmother cut pieces of corn stalk for the kids to suck out moisture. Like a mother bird, she would also chew hard food until it was soft and feed it to the children.

They survived by the kindness of strangers as Anna knocked on doors at night and begged for food. Finally, in Linz, Austria, they were reunited with Paul’s parents. Because of malnutrition, Paul had no hair and his head was painted with iodine, causing the new hair to be red. The family lived in a dance hall’s washroom for men before immigrating to Canada in 1950. Paul was nine years old.

In Canada, the Bayer family first hired out to work on a tobacco farm but gradually accumulated a thousand acres and 10,000 hogs in Kitchener, Ontario, a town with a long German history. Paul married Elizabeth Bayer and they had four children. But the snow depressed him and the farming regulations were stifling.

When a realtor named Kenn Justice came up north with stories of $1,000 an acre land in Texas, Paul was interested as were thirteen other Canadians. They looked at Vinita, OK, Dalhart and Paris and he chose Lamar County. In 1983, the year the Bayer family moved to Paris, temperatures were below freezing for 13 straight days. After years of Canadian winters, Paul wore short sleeves and was amused at our discomfort.

Paul and his family prospered in Texas even if the promised two crops didn’t materialize. He serves on the Farm Bureau board and has become accustomed to our more laid back approach. “ What’s the advantage of being the richest man in the graveyard,” he quips.

Paul Bayer’s story is unusual for our town. He survived a concentration camp because of his grandmother’s resourcefulness and determination, journeyed across two continents and an ocean , and finally hung up his hat in Lamar County. He can appreciate our quiet, peaceful life more than most and can help us all do the same.

Jordan’s Desert Slowly Reveals History of Petra

2012-01-14T10:27:00.000-08:00

Treasury at Petra

I well remember the first photos I saw of the ruins of the rose city of Petra, reflecting a two thousand year old Nabataean culture in Jordan’s desert. The most magnificent picture was of The Treasury, delicately carved into the sandstone, appearing to be the facade of a Greek temple. It looked mysteriously deserted. Directors of the movie, “Indian Jones and the Last Crusade”, filmed portions of the ruins and it was soon the major tourist destination in Jordan.

Around 312 BCE., Petra was selected as the capital of the Nabataeans, an Arab tribe that catered to caravans passing through the desert. These early lumbering modes of transportation contained up to 100 people and 1,000 camels and carried the era’s most precious commodity - spices - including the Biblical frankincense. They needed a “truck stop” that could protect the traders and water the animals. To provide this, the Nabataeans developed an hydraulic engineering system that diverted swollen winter waters, pumped water along stone pipes through the canyon and created areas of conservation. Following the adage “if you build it, they will come”, the caravan routes soon included Petra on their maps and its residents became wealthy.

First glimpse of the Treasury from the siq

Petra’s history plays out in the entry siq, a narrow canyon that follows the flow of the water that created it, past carvings of camel caravans in the wavy red and brown sandstone walls, and along chariot tracks from the original Roman stones paving the pathway. We first stumbled our way down this road by moonlight to the Treasury to enjoy an evening presentation of local Bedouin flute music amid candle-lit luminares - “a downright fairy-tale magical experience” as described in our itinerary. Except for the ambulance tucked into one corner, the dark scene was ancient.

Carving of camel feet

Entry Siq

By daylight, the entry gorge was even more spectacular with twists and turns and overhanging canyon walls. It was first known as the “via sacra” or sacred way with no animal sacrifices allowed. Tombs were tucked into the walls, including one of a 27 year old with an inscription, “His death caused everlasting pain to his mother” - a pain we could still feel. Wheels from horse drawn carriages loudly clanged by us over the stones carrying tourists deeper into the ruins. Around the corner from the Treasury, the canyon opened up to a treasure trove of archaeological finds.

Roman temple

Roman columns

Theater cut in rock

In 64 BCE, the Roman General Pompey conquered the popular Petra. Even Emperor Hadrian visited the site. And since Romans built wherever they went, an open colonnaded street spread before us as we exited the siq. Royal and common tombs were carved high above the valley floor. An original Nebataean theater, cut in rock and enlarged by the Romans to 34 rows, had held 10,000 people - a significant chunk of the 35,000 who lived here.

Floor Mosaics from Byzantine Church

In 1990, the American Kenneth Russell uncovered the next layer of history, a Byzantine church dating to 400 CE. After Christianity was established as Rome’s state religion, Petra supported a bishop and as many as 12 churches. At Russell’s church, perfectly intact floor mosaics gave glimpses of everyday life including animals, plants, and shepherds. Stones from the Roman buildings were reused for the church - early recycling. And a pile of 150 papyrus rolls found in the church brought that era to life with information on marriage and divorce contracts, references to tribes, and decisions about land ownership.

Our guide, a former archeologist, explained earthquakes caused the city to decline. At its peek, the Petra area was 70 square miles but today, only 1% has been excavated. Universities and countries around the world are funding and manning the search for more ruins.

"Roman Centurions"

Surveying rock movement

Jordan is trying to balance the need for tourist largesse and protecting the World Heritage Site. Other than the entry fee, visitors can spend money on horse, camel or carriage rides, pictures with costumed Roman centurions, guides, food, drink, or post cards and jewelry sold by children and Bedouin women. But we also saw archeological digs and a scientist monitoring the movement of an overhead rock in the siq to protect tourists below. Petra is no longer deserted but the excitement now is in what remains to be discovered. - a ruin that just keeps on giving.

Modern Day Bethlehem and the Christmas Story

2011-12-17T11:39:00.000-08:00

O little town of Bethlehem,
how still we see thee lie;
above thy deep and dreamless sleep
the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
the everlasting light;
the hopes and fears of all the years
are met in thee tonight.

What a beautiful scene this hymn describes - a small, quiet, peaceful town hosts the birth of Jesus. In the Bible, God’s physical presence on earth begins quietly. Yet, the reality of Bethlehem today plays out in the rough and tumble politics of the area.

Bethlehem is really a suburb of Jerusalem - a mere five miles separates them. It hosts the largest population of Christians in Israel and has traditionally been a required stop for pilgrims to the Holy Land. Until 2006, this was an easy bus or taxi ride away. Because Bethlehem is located in the West Bank, excursions became more complicated when Israel built a security wall to protect Jerusalem from terrorists. Bethlehem is now separated from her neighbor by a 26 foot tall concrete fence, 14 feet taller than the Berlin Wall. Israel defends the necessity of this partition as it has significantly reduced bombings and deaths. Bethlehem argues the wall has separated families and friends, hurt commuting workers and frightened away tourists.

Identification machine for fingerprints

Our day trip from Jerusalem to Bethlehem began with a taxi ride to the Security Wall. The Jordanian driver (married to a Palestinian woman) phoned his contact on the other side of the wall to be sure we would be met. We walked down a long, narrow passageway into a metal building. Those ahead of us had to place their hands on a fingerprint pad for verification. But Israeli checkpoint guards didn’t even inspect our passports and waved us through. After another long, winding walk, we exited to a crowd of taxi drivers. Fortunately, Adnun, our guide, spotted us.

The short drive into Bethlehem followed the Security Wall, filled on this side with graffiti and anti-Israel comments. Adnun pointed out Bethlehem University which is financed by the United States and other European Countries. Their police are also trained by U.S. forces. Yet, he claimed tourist numbers are down due in part to our State Department’s warning against travel in the West Bank. As a Christian working in the tourist industry, Adnun was frustrated by this. He had kind words for “The Lonely Planet” travel guidebook who strongly encourages readers to base their stay in quiet Bethlehem rather than the more expensive Jerusalem.

We visited The Church of the Nativity, where Palm Sunday services were being celebrated by the Orthodox Church, followed by the Armenians, and then Roman Catholics. A new placard was hung each time the service changed. Thanks to our guide’s persuasive ability and our claim to speak Spanish, we were allowed into the small grotto below the church for a celebration of a Spanish Mass. This is sacred territory, where it is believed Jesus was born - not in a stable but a cave. While we waited, a tearful, blind woman was led by a family member to reverently touch a silver star on the marble floor, indicating holy ground below.

Also in the Christmas story are shepherds in the field watching their sheep at night. In that time, many shepherds lived in caves that were large enough even for their flocks to stay at night. At the “Shepherd’s Field YMCA”, located at the edge of Bethlehem, a cave typical of the time of Jesus has been preserved in its rural setting.. We had to honk outside the gate to be allowed in, the only visitors that day. The cave was spacious, cool, and surprisingly comfortable. And it was here, away from the crowds of the Church of the Nativity, the politics of the Security Wall, and the ever present traffic, that the air of 2000 years ago could be breathed and the story imagined. It was a quiet moment when Bethlehem was as still as in the carol we sing and as peaceful as we can only hope for the entire region.

Brooklyn, New York - An Emerging Travel Destination With Much to Do

2011-12-03T10:17:00.001-08:00

Pop quiz time. Which of the five boroughs of New York has the most residents? Which claims that one out of every six Americans can trace an ancestor back to it? And which borough would be the 4th largest city in the country if it were an independent city? The answer is Brooklyn. At a population of 2.5 million, it is twice as big as Dallas. Yet, few visitors venture past the East River to this community rich in architecture, ethnic cultures and history. We had an opportunity to explore it during a Thanksgiving visit to our son’s new residence.

Life long Brooklyn resident, “Big Rick” Kadlub, guided us the first day on a walking tour. He has watched real estate prices soar in recent years by those looking for a better bargain than in neighboring Manhattan. Thanks to a four story zoning limit, much of Brooklyn feels like a neighborhood and is being rediscovered. The Park Slope area is an example. In the 1950's it was an enclave for Italians and Irish, filled with Latinos and African Americans in the 60's. was joined by artists in the 70's and discovered by young professionals in the 90's. New families now fill the beautiful brownstones and frequent the many restaurants. Big Rick shook his head in wonder as hundreds of residents stream out of nearby subway stops in late afternoon - a stark contrast to the trickle of commuters in the past.

While most Americans know of Central Park, few are aware of Brooklyn’s Prospect Park, designed by the same Frederick Olmstead. In fact, many consider Prospect Park superior to its Manhattan cousin and I have to agree. Six hundred acres of forest provides strolling paths, the largest park meadow in the country, Brooklyn’s only lake, a zoo, birding opportunities, and an outdoor ice rink. Next door are the Botanical Gardens, Art Deco public library filled with books in 70 languages, and the Brooklyn Art Museum, a near replica of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, that houses the first feminist gallery and its famous Dinner Party installation by Judy Chicago.

On our second day, a 20 minute subway ride took us to the grandfather of all amusement parks, Coney Island. The subway exit opens directly across from “Nathan’s World Famous Frankfurters since 1916", a required stop even though it was only 10 a.m. We joined Al Capone, Cary Grant, Jacqueline Kennedy, Winston Churchill and the King and Queen of England as samplers of these surprisingly good hot dogs. Across the street was the equally famous amusement park, sadly closed for the season.

The boardwalk along the Atlantic was even better than I had hoped for. We merged with a leisurely crowd of mostly elderly pensioners strolling down the well-maintained wooden walk. The clean beach was almost empty but could clearly hold the masses in the summer. As we approached Brighton Beach, a Russian immigrant stopped to chat and tell us how much he loved America. Originally built as an exclusive resort for the wealthy in 1909, Brighton Beach has most recently become the largest Russian community in New York. Russian restaurants lined the beach and along Brighton Beach Avenue. Bilingual signs advertised child care and dental offices. And a liquor store with a lit neon hammer and sickle boasted of many kinds of vodka. We enjoyed a lunch of traditional Russian fare such as pelmenis and varkenikis.

On the last morning, we walked with our one year old grandson across the 128 year old Brooklyn Bridge and introduced him to the Manhattan skyline. Through the weblike cables, the Statue of Liberty beckoned. And on the return walk, Brooklyn spread across the horizon. Now no longer just one of the boroughs, Brooklyn had proved itself a worthy travel destination with much more to be discovered. I look forward to it.

Contacts:
Tour Guide, Richard Kadlub - A Tour Grows in Brooklyn, 212-209-3370

Decades Later, Connecting With Ahmet Yilmaz, A Turkish Exchange Student

2011-11-06T14:14:00.000-08:00

It had been 45 years since I last saw Ahmet Yilmaz. We shared a year at Plainview High School in 1965-66 when he arrived as an exchange student from Turkey. Ahmet was placed through the American Field Service, originally a program for ambulance drivers in World War I that morphed into a student exchange. In his year, 1500 students from around the world came to the United States to “connect lives and share cultures”.

Ahmet was selected from 600 students in his high school. Because of his request for an agricultural community, he landed in Plainview, Texas, a High Plains farming town that knew much more about football and Baptists than soccer and Islam. With an easy smile and open heart, Ahmet embraced all that was good about Texas - its people, friendliness, love of beef, and even the cowboy hat. He was a favorite in our school. My husband and I were traveling to Turkey and I wanted to find him.

Ahmet Yilmaz and Ed Clark

A Google search for Ahmet Yilmaz yielded hundreds of options. That is, apparently, a very common name. Only when I added Plainview, Texas to his name did I eventually find the web site for Ahmet’s wife, Gonul Engin, an accomplished artist. Soon we were corresponding and planning to meet in Istanbul.

Ahmet arrived at our hotel with a huge smile and hugged us all. Despite the loss of hair and weight gain, he still enthusiastically embraced life, just as in high school. We compared stories while strolling to the er&ne&met Carpet Store where my husband and I were interested in purchasing a Turkish rug.

Ahmet Yilmaz on the terrace of carpet store

The traditional tea was first offered on the store’s landscaped terrace under the shadow of the Blue Mosque. Ahmet’s excitement soon bubbled over as he began chanting “Hey, hey, ho, ho, Come on Bulldogs, Let’s go” I jumped in. “Hey, hey, ho, ho, Come on Bulldogs, Let’s go” Then we moved to “Push ‘em back, Push ‘em back, WAAAAY back.” The carpet owners looked bewildered as we laughed our way through football memories from decades past, including Ahmet’s one attempt to play. Because of a cheerleader distraction, he missed the quarterback’s call and was run over by the offense.

Ahmet and Gonul Yilmaz

Upon returning to his homeland, Ahmet spent his career in education and first thought of opening private universities in Turkey as an option to public schools. He helped establish the Istanbul Culture University where course work is taught in English and he served as its first administrator.

On our day of touring with Ahmet, he filled us with Turkish information. All state schools, hospitals, and medicine are free. Private health insurance cost around $3,000 a year and private universities between $5,000 and $10,000. There are 147 churches, 18 synagogues, and 3000 mosques in Istanbul, a city with a history of religious tolerance.

“If a person is a real Moslem, he could never be a terrorist. We can’t harm anything,” Ahmet assured us. Many Turks have Biblical names like Musa for Moses and Isa for Jesus. All Iman salaries are paid by the government and no charge made for utilities at mosques. Maintenance is provided by the sale of the carpets which Muslims are required to give once in their lifetimes. No one “belongs” to a mosque - a Muslim usually just prays at the nearest one.

During our yacht ride on the Bosphorus Strait, Ahmet continued his lessons. One thousand boats pass through these waters every day and the larger ones must have a Turkish pilot. Nine computer controlled towers give the go ahead for the hundreds of boats awaiting passage as well as direction along the 20 mile waterway. Turkey had the world’s first car ferry, beginning in 1869. When the work on an underwater tunnel is completed, one can take the train from Europe to China.

Ahmet recognized some of the problems of modern Turkey. More than 60% of Turkish men smoke. Tax reform is badly needed with few companies paying any. Traffic is always bad and often horrible. “God knows” is the standard response to a query of how long it will take to get anywhere.

Turkey is known as a secular Muslim Democracy and touted as a model for the countries experiencing the Arab spring. Ahmet explained that Ataturk, father of Turkey’s democracy, changed the Turkish mind, creating a nation out of the sick Ottoman Empire. The Turkish flag has a crescent and a star. When Allah’s name is written in Arabic, it looks like a crescent moon. The five points of the star represent the five parts of man - head, two legs and two arms - God and Man together on the flag.

In 1961, President Kennedy addressed the American Field Service exchange students on the White House lawn, telling them he hoped they would return with a favorable impression of our democratic way of life, messy though that was. He acknowledged them as friends of peace and that they will be the future leaders of their countries. Clearly, Ahmet has done both - been a friend of the United States and a leader in his country. By endearing all of Plainview High to its first Muslim student and charming American visitors to Turkey, Ahmet has brought the countries closer. The return on his time in Texas couldn’t get much better than that.

P.S. And a special thanks to Google for making the reunion possible!

Contact Information - gonuley@gmail.com
www.gonulenginyilmaz.com
www.gonulyilmaz.com

Turkey - Cashing in on Its Waters

2011-10-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

Ataturk's Yacht on Bosphorus Strait

With 4454 miles of coastline at the crossroads of Europe and Asia, Turkey has long been a popular spot for traders and conquerors. Today, tourists are the newest invited invaders who are taking advantage of this now stable democracy. On a recent trip, we discovered it has some of the most beautiful waters in the world to be enjoyed on both land and sea.

View of Antalya harbor

View of water and mountains

Antalya, a city of three million, lies on the edge of the Turquoise Coast along Southwest Turkey. Originally a small town with a safe harbor, Antalya has grown exponentially with the advent of tourist resorts. The Russian crowd particularly enjoys vacationing here. On the rooftop terrace of our pension in the old section of town, we could see the advance of the new condominiums and resorts as the lights extended around the crescent shore. Despite this boom in building, the city’s perfect view over the waters with the Taurus mountains in the distance has not changed from Roman times.

View of Kas from Plateau above

Further around the coast and directly in the heart of the Turquoise Coast lies Kas, a small fishing village that has managed to stay charming despite the growth in condos in nearby areas. The British are major visitors here. We rented a boat for the day with Captain Ergan, a remarkably young (24) and poised Turk, who plans to own a fleet of yachts someday. We snorkled and kayaked in the clear blue green waters, explored a Crusader castle, and ate fresh seafood on board. At the end of a very pleasant day, Ergan passed out cards that encouraged us to evaluate him on Trip Advisor. Such savvy marketing had already led us to him and would surely bring him even more business. Someday soon, the other captains will need to figure that one out.

2400 year old Lycian tombs in Dalyan

Beach at mouth of Dalyan River

Up the coast but inland is Dalyan, a German favorite located on the river of the same name. This is another small town that grew up quickly, thanks to the international airport built nearby in 1981. It has a rather odd combination of tourist sites that have been brilliantly combined into one daylong boat ride. We stopped first at Roman ruins of the seaport it once was and then moved down river to the spawning grounds of the large Loggerhead turtles, saved from development by the Turkish government. A bonus from this ecological decision is a pristine beach with only a snack bar and umbrellas. Returning to the river, we motored past carved 2400 year old Lycian tombs and stopped at Aqua Mia, some hot springs that provided our first (and last) mud bath experience.

The ferry boats of Istanbul are another rich source of “on the water” experiences. In a city of 15 million (give or take five million), only 2 four lane bridges link the European and Asian sides of the city. This means ferry boats must transport thousands to and from work every day.

Ferry on Marmara Sea, near Istanbul

On a crisp, clear October morning, we boarded a ferry on Buyukada Island for the hour and a half ride to the city. The skyline of greater Istanbul lay to one side and Princess Islands to the other. As the boat neared the mouth of the Bosphorus Strait, large tankers lay idle on the Marmara Sea, waiting their turn to sail to the Black Sea. The famous Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and the Topkapi Palace began to take shape. Small fishing boats and many more ferry boats passed by. And at our ferry terminal, two enormous cruise ships moored nearby, patiently awaiting the return of their guests who had been released for the day.

Yali or shore mansion

Our final Turkish water experience centered on a boat ride on the Bosphorus, a place that gives strength to the residents of Istanbul. Its history plays out on the shores with several Sultan Palaces, many yalis or shore mansions that have been rebuilt or restored in the original Ottoman style, a military high school, Ataturk’s yacht, restaurants, hotels, and of course, minarets. Orhan Pamuk, the Turkish winner of the Nobel Prize for literature, describes the experience - “To be traveling through the middle of a city as great, historic and forlorn as Istanbul, and yet to feel the freedom of the open sea — that is the thrill of a trip along the Bosphorus.”

Most of Turkey is inland, without access to the seas or rivers. But it is the country’s waters that attract the growing international crowd. After exploring the shores of Turkey, it is easy to understand why Troy, the Hittities, Romans, Byzantines and Seljuks wanted to control these beautiful waters. We’re just grateful the Turks have opened their world for all who now want to enjoy it.

On Bosphorus Strait

It's New Zealand's Hour - Rugby Union World Cup

2011-09-18T06:53:00.000-07:00

Rugby Scrum between Shirley Club and Russian team

I saw the countdown clock on the square of Christchurch, New Zealand in April of 2010. At the time, it showed 76 weeks, five days, three hours, and 40 minutes to the most popular event in all of New Zealand and much of the world down under - the Rugby Union World Cup. Yes, it was a year and a half away but the Kiwis were already counting. They are not alone. Viewership worldwide for these games ranks third after the Olympics and the World Cup of Soccer.

Christchurch and its environs are typical of the rugby mania in New Zealand’s communities, with 49 rugby club teams, averaging a team for every 7,000 people. This would be the equivalent to seven adult football teams in Lamar County. Each club team has its own field and club house where gear is stored and players gather for a beer after games. Most run a sports program for the youth and host family parties. Some teams have been around for over 100 years.

Out of this strong building program come the professional teams. Before the earthquake, the Christchurch Crusaders played at AMI stadium that held about 40,000 fans. Because of the cracks in the facility, Christchurch couldn’t host its seven World Cup games but they are well represented on the national All Black team with 12 of the 30 players.

During our visit, the Shirley Club team was playing on a Sunday afternoon and we caught a city bus out to their field. Fans were sitting on the ground or standing behind. I sat by Anita, a Polynesian woman, whose son was hoping to play for Shirley. He had played in Australia but couldn’t support his family since they only got paid if the team won.

Rugby Throw In

The game was a bit unusual as the opposing team was Russian. We learned there was an offside as in soccer. Throw-ins were great. Each squad lifted a player high in the air to catch the ball- similar to our cheerleaders stunts. And then there is the scrum, a way of restarting a game. Each team circled around in a common huddle while the referee barks out “Get Set. Touch. Engage.” The successful team handed off the ball to a player in back and all moved forward - a kind of quarterback sneak. A few players wore helmets, a possible indication that the player had suffered from a concussion but most men preferred to play macho and bareheaded.

Anita’s son favored the “union” style of rugby most popular in New Zealand to the “league” style of Australia. The details of the differences were too technical for my limited knowledge of the game but I did understand the union style allowed unlimited tackles and more points for the different scoring chances, including increased points for just trying for a goal. After that, I felt like an European soccer fan watching American football for the first time - bewildered.

What distinguishes the New Zealand All Black team is the performance of the Haka before each game, a tradition that began as far back as 1894. This Maori dance startled Wales the first time it was performed on a European tour in 1903. “After that, the All Blacks became the most feared opponent in the sport. Fierce rivalries existed between all the rugby powers, but the men wearing the black jerseys with the silver fern and delivering the formal challenge of the haka had a psychological edge on the opposition whenever they stepped onto the field.”

The following translation of the haka isn’t particularly frightening and seems barely connected to winning a game. But chanting it to a pounding rhythm can rattle opponents.

Ka mate Ka mate It is death It is death
Ka ora Ka ora It is life It is life
Ka mate Ka mate It is death It is death
Ka ora Ka ora It is life It is life
Tenei Te Tangata Puhuruhuru This is the hairy man
Nana i tiki mai whakawhiti te ra Who caused the sun to shine again for me
Upane Upane Up the ladder Up the ladder
Upane Kaupane Up to the top
Whiti te ra The sun shines!

As host, New Zealand is anxious to win this year’s trophy. Their last victory was in 1987, the initial year of the Rugby Union World Cup. A recent article in England’s Guardian newspaper describes New Zealand as desperate to win. Another claims “Our Turf Our Time”. On the web, the Wait-of-a-Nation site pokes fun at the hand-wringing and misery of fans who feel the team capable of winning but fear it won’t.

With the entire country almost at a standstill, the tournament is being broadcast on at least four channels and by satellite. Twenty teams will play over the next two months until the final on October 23rd. New Zealand’s All Black team is actually favored to win - 4/7 odds - with Australia picked for second. For a nation who has suffered devastation and loss from recent earthquakes and who loves the sport more than any others, I hope the countdown clock is to victory.

Despite Problems at Rocky Mountain National Park, Nature Rules

2011-08-27T18:15:00.000-07:00

View from Ridge Trail Highway at Rocky Mountain National Park

It’s all true. Everything you’ve heard about Rocky Mountain National Park’s beauty and vastness is accurate - 415 square miles filled with sixty mountain peeks over 12,000 feet, an accessible Alpine Tundra, waterfalls, trout fishing, 350 miles of hiking trails and the Continental Divide that weaves its way through the park. While famous for glaciers, clear water and open valleys, there were stories behind the beautiful scene.

Mills Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park

The first morning, we headed to Mills Lake for a family hike. After entering a park gate and paying $20, we moved slowly over a winding road until directed to an overflow parking lot. An overflow parking lot? A shuttle bus to our trail? What happened to “getting away from it all”? What happened was 3 million visitors a year to Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP). It is the 5th most visited park in the country. That’s a lot of cars on the road and the attendant air pollution.

The solution at this park and others is mass transportation. A Hiker Shuttle is available to whisk riders to various trail heads. Bear Lake and Morraine Park Visitor Center also provide shuttle buses to the more popular trails. Unlike the parks at Grand Canyon and Yosemite where bus rides are mandatory, RMNP allows free choice. The reasons for mass transit are obvious. Maintenance of roads, frustration with traffic, air quality in the pristine setting and protection of animals are all concerns One hundred elk a year are killed by cars in RMNP. According to the National Park Conservatory Association, replacing 5,000 private vehicles per day with 30 propane-powered buses, can eliminate more than 13,000 tons of greenhouse gas emissions in a year.

The shuttle bus filled quickly and dropped us off at our trail head. Upon return, many had finished their hikes and were watching for the bus. A volunteer ranger radioed back about the awaiting crowd and the next bus was lightly loaded and able to hold most us. Despite my grumbling and frustration with the delay, I had to admit the shuttle bus system worked well and was better than the huge parking lot that would be required near the fragile trail heads.

Dead trees from bark beetle

Cut Lodge Pole Pine Trees to be burned

Although most of the park was incredibly green from record rainfalls, we noticed whole mountainsides were brown from dead or dying trees - the work of bark beetles, a native insect that has flourished thanks to warmer than average temperatures. To suppress the beetle’s activities, temperatures must stay below freezing for 30 straight days in the winter. Absent this, the beetles reproduce mightily and devour lodgepole pine trees. High value trees can be treated but thousands are being removed each year. Campgrounds lay in the open without shade trees - made bare from fear of dead trees toppling on sleeping campers. The silver lining is the appearance of more wild flowers and aspen trees who are not affected by the beetles. As one ranger said “It’s like pressing the reset button on nature”. We can only hope.

RMNP is far enough north to have deer, elk, and bears and all want the experience of sighting these fine animals. We got messages along a trail that a mother elk and two babies were ahead on the lake and in nearby Estes Park, cars had pulled over to see an elk in the stream. But what we didn’t realize is the park has twice as many elk as can be sustained on the property without damage to the number of aspen trees and other elk favorites. Rangers estimate only 30 bears live in the park but as many as 3100 elk do. An ideal number would be 1500. The solution has been to allow hunting of 30 female elk each year by park employees. Since implementing the policy, there has been a gradual decrease in the elk number and increase in their food supply.

I’m not sure we met any “real” park rangers. Those taking our money, riding the bus with us, and giving information were volunteers, as noted by their name tag and uniforms. Because of dwindling federal money, most national parks operate on two-thirds of their needed budget. So began the “Volunteers in the Parks” program. RMNP has one of the largest with over 1700 volunteers at a savings of $2 million a year. They are used to clean trails, remove and modify fences, handle the crowds, educate on wildlife, answer questions, collect seeds, and be ambassadors for the park. The good news is many want to volunteer the selection process competitive. The National Parks Service website even suggests you have a better chance of being chosen if you can provide your own housing. The need for volunteers will just grow greater and may be the perfect place for baby boomers to give back.

Above tree line on Ridge Trail Highway

Glaciers at Rocky Mountain National Park

With one last drive along the famous Ridge Trail Highway, the highest in the country, we looked again at the park’s vast beauty. Yes, there are too many cars and elks. Thousands of trees are being leveled because of the pesky bark beetle. And volunteers are filling the funding gap for the park. But what we saw from on high was a landscape that’s had years of practice at rejuvenating itself. We’re confident it will again.

The Kibbutz Maagan - Changing with the Times

2011-08-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

View of Sea of Galilee from Kibbut Maagan Holiday Village Hotel

As a teenager, I was drawn to the idea of the Israeli kibbutz - a community of like-minded residents who worked hard, celebrated often, and contributed to the greater good of the country. It was romantic in a foreign sense of the word and I envied those who got to join one. But how has the communal setting aged in the modern world of individual rights? On a recent trip, I was impressed the kibbutz still played an important part in Israel’s culture and economy but with a different model.

The Sea of Galilee is ringed with kibbutzim. It is here they first began with Kibbutz Degania Alef, established in 1910. Based on a socialist idea and manned by secular Zionists, the first kibbutzim were developed for protection as well as communal working of land. The farmer-warrior image continued from the 1948 War of Independence to 1982 when many northern kibbutzim used their bunkers for protection from Syrian missiles just a few miles away. During a tour of the Kibbutz Maagan on the south end of the Sea of Galilee, much of this history played out in the lives of the residents.

Our guide, Eli Kedem

Our guide Eli Kedem, a small, fit man in his early 60's, was born and raised on this property. His parents were early residents who, like many pioneers, helped Israel stake out territory for the eventual drawing of the country’s boundaries. After World War II, citizens of Hungary and Romania came as a part of the Jewish Youth Movement. Some were Holocaust survivors. .

As was customary, Kibbutz Maagan began with agriculture, relying on all residents to help in the fields. This program was instrumental in turning the desert lands of Israel into many productive fields and orchards. Throughout the Jewish world in the 60's, 70's and 80's, speakers and rabbis encouraged young adults to volunteer and work at a kibbutz in the new country. We heard many such stories. Eli met his wife who came from Holland to work at Maagan. Our native Zimbabwean guide in Jerusalem started her life in Israel on a kibbutz. A family friend from Ohio also met her Russian husband on a kibbutz and now lives in Israel with her family. The kibbutz served as the Facebook of its time, connecting Jews from all parts of the globe.

Communal bicycles

It also tested the idea of a socialist economy on a small scale. The first model had three principles - equal income, no private property, and direct democracy. Eli and his wife raised their three children on the kibbutz. Although Eli had lived apart from his parents at a children’s house, their children remained in their home. School was held on the premises and children were expected to work.

The big changes at this kibbutz occurred six years ago. The commune was losing members. Individuals wanted their own cars, homes and careers. None of Eli’s children remained on the kibbutz. After a passionate vote, rules changed. Salaries are no longer equal although there is a minimum wage. A member can earn more if they work longer or have a better job. They can now work outside the kibbutz. And each family has its own budget. Major decisions for the kibbutz are still made by direct vote from each member but day to day ones are controlled by an economic manager and a social one.

Workshop Participant

Communal laundry

Elderly Workshop Gifts

Vestiges of the socialist era remain - a common dining room, laundry room, daycare, and a workshop for elderly people. Bicycles are scattered around for anyone’s use. Sadly, no more young volunteers work there. As Eli commented “paid employees stay longer”. Some of the members continue to farm 400 acres for bananas, avocados, and grapefruit but most of their income is from the Kibbutz Maagan Holiday Village hotel where we stayed. Eli now works with Christian and Jewish companies in the United States who sponsor tours of Israel and send their filled buses to the hotel. From Maagan, many holy and historical sites are available. Since membership is no longer required to stay on the kibbutz, many students from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem attend a nearby university, work at the hotel, and rent an apartment on the kibbutz.

Buses in front of hotel

Maagan is not alone in making changes. Today, only 15% of the country’s Kibbutz membership work in agriculture. Laborers from Thailand now pick the crops. Some kibbutzim have branched into such businesses as diamond cutting, drip irrigation systems, plastic and medical tools, and even a Naot shoe store down the street from our kibbutz. Many own hotels. And despite their small number (only 1.5 % of the Israeli population), kibbutzim produce 9 % of the country’s industrial production as well as one half of its milk and 40% of its agriculture production.

Front yard of kibbutz home

Renovated kitchen

As Eli led us toward a line of duplexes that faced the Sea of Galilee, a woman waved us into her home. Her front yard was filled with flowers and the door open to the cool morning air. Inside, she proudly pointed out her newly renovated kitchen and introduced her husband who was just finishing breakfast. They laughed easily, especially about us getting to meet real live kibbutz residents. Both were artists and sold their sculptures and handbags in the marketplace. They clearly enjoyed the beautiful, communal setting and were thriving in its new economy.

Eli smiled warily as we left. He loved growing up on the kibbutz and raising his family there. But he knew the changes were necessary. Encouraged by the slight up-tick in members since the rules were revised, the kibbutz expects more will be enticed to work there. Maybe even Eli's grandchildren will continue this century old tradition. He can only hope so.

The Mayan Riviera 36 Years Later

2011-07-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

I last visited Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula in 1975, when my husband and I spent our honeymoon there. We were poor, ill-prepared and rode buses to the ruins of Chichen Itza and slept in hammocks at Isla Mujeres. Since development at Cancun only began in 1970, there were just a handful of hotels and about that many tourists. When I returned this summer to the now named Mayan Riviera for a family wedding, I was dumbstruck by the changes.

Our Continental flight from Houston was filled with summer clad tourists who happily accepted the offer of beer or Margaritas in the air. At the Cancun Airport, the control tower was even wrapped in a large ad for Corona beer. Planes from around the world nosed into their gates - Air Canada, Air Cubana, and even the English Thomas Cook charter known for packaged holiday tours. Twelve American airlines and thirty-one foreign ones now serve this very busy, modern airport where English is the first language of announcements. An enormous customs hall filled with agents processed the approximately 1,000 arriving travelers within 30 minutes.

Outside, a squadron of white-shirted tour representatives held placards as they searched for their named tourists. Fortunately, mine was in a red shirt and easy to spot. We chatted while awaiting the emergence of my sister-in-law. He felt about half the tourists came from Europe and half from the United States and Canada. It had been slower this year, he said, but that was hard for me to gauge. I did note the outdoor bar for those who just couldn’t wait.

The drive from the airport to our resort was along the four lane Highway 307 linking the 79 miles from Cancun through Playa del Carmen to Tulum in the south. Spread along this road were literally hundreds of hotels and resorts. Trip Advisor lists 258 hotels in the area. Some are for adults only, others have great children’s programs, many are all inclusive and a few are for budget minded travelers. The larger hotels cover acres and have pyramids peering over the trees. One driver described them as “pueblitas” or little towns.

Security is a major concern today even though this area has not seen the crime waves reported in other parts of Mexico. But the hotels take it seriously. At each of the resorts for the two couples in our van, a guard at the gate checked the guest list before allowing us through.

Our resort, the Royal Playa del Carmen, faces the beach in the middle of the town of Playa del Carmen. While it had no gate, security was heavy around the large driveway. We also saw policemen patrolling the area with regularity and even one handcuffed man being whisked away. But there was never a moment that we felt at risk, even as we strolled the streets of the town.

Our hotel shone with marbled floors, manicured lawns, numerous swimming pools and was filled with approximately 1500 friendly, hard-working employees who greeted us with “hola” and a hand over their heart. It was a far cry from our motel at Chichen Itza years ago where we were just happy to have air conditioning. This was also my first “all inclusive” experience and I could get used to ordering freely from the menu and not having to calculate tips after every meal. The choices were international with many fusion dishes but the portions small. If you were still hungry, just order another course - which was true of the weak drinks they served.

Destination weddings are increasingly popular because of the romantic settings, reduced costs and shortened guest list. At our niece’s lovely wedding, we enjoyed a familiar ritual in a tropical setting. White gauze entwined the ocean front wedding gazebo where I had enjoyed a yoga session that morning. Chairs with white covers were arranged on two sides of the aisle and parasols available for those in the sun. The groom’s brother-in-law officiated even though he had no real power. The bridal couple had married in a civil ceremony in California before coming. Evidence of our presence south of the border were numerous. Throughout the service and dinner reception, live and recorded music played from a harpist, Mariachi band, and a great DJ. Groomsmen wore white Mexican shirts and sandals and sunglasses soothed the eyes of guests. The wedding party had shots of tequila after the service while the hors d’oeuvres displayed all the wonderful fresh fruit and flowers available in those parts.

The resorts on the Mayan Riviera do provide a relaxing environment to eat, drink, sun, swim as well as marry. Although the quality of lodging has changed significantly since our first trip there, the clear blue-green waters and white beaches haven’t. I’ve long noticed how few Americans are traveling in the out-of-the way places I frequent. But I found them on the beaches of Mexico, enjoying a taste of luxury at reasonable prices.

Marilyn Stephenson's Path to Paris, Texas

2011-07-10T14:57:00.000-07:00

Marilyn in front of her apartment with the Army Flag

This is the second in an occasional series of stories about people traveling TO Paris, Texas to live.

Marilyn Stephenson is easy to spot in the winter. She wears a Tyrolean hat from Bavaria tightly pulled over her military haircut. Summer finds her in t-shirts and comfortable shoes. Her gate is forward and deliberate, and she speaks with Army punctuated precision just as a retired sergeant should. It’s clear from her accent she’s not from these parts. But her path to Paris is a story of American mobility.

Originally from Crown Point, Indiana, of bank robber Dillinger escape fame, Marilyn comes from a family of three daughters. After attending college for two years, she headed to California where she worked in a small IBM department. As she points out, there were no women supervisors then and she was released after five years. The military beckoned but her age was a problem. At 32, she was too old to be in the Navy but not the Army which she joined on July 6, 1967. Training was separate through the Women’s Army Corps in Ft. McPherson, Alabama.

During her 20 years of service, Marilyn was posted from California to the Pentagon and three times in Europe. Her first ten years were spent as a communications specialist where she “pushed messages”, learning to read the holes in teletype messages that arrived from all over the world. This was a typical placement for women at the time. After emerging from NCO training as Staff Sergeant, she had eight men under her who didn’t know what to expect from a woman leader. She told them, “See these stripes. They’re brand new. I worked for this promotion. I didn’t brown nose anyone and I’m not losing these stripes for any of you. If you’re concerned about a woman supervisor, let me know. I don’t want you working for me”. All the men stayed. When the work at the Pentagon got tedious, she asked to change to a chaplain’s assistant.

Marilyn's medals

In her new position, she was again among mostly men. Marilyn got to go into the field and even participated in war games in Germany. The primary duty of the troops there was to be prepared to “fold the gap when the Russians came.” At that time, it wasn’t a question of “if” but “when” the Russians tried to penetrate the Alps. She served abroad three times in Germany and Belgium between 1972 and 1981 and served at Grafenver with the 3rd Armor Tank Division (Patton’s old unit) on her last tour.

A chaplain’s assistant’s job is more varied than you would first imagine. Marilyn tells stories of weddings that tried to derail, including one in which she had to sew the groom’s pants shut because of an unfortunate tear. Because she was in charge of all chaplains’ assistants in Europe, Marilyn made herself useful. Before computers, she used cards to keep track of when each chaplain was leaving so she could be sure of an easy and smooth replacement. Marilyn served as the highest ranking enlisted officer in the division.

After leaving the military in 1987, she lived in Ft. Monroe, Virginia until 1998 when she returned to California. She bought a truck and 5th wheeler and traveled all over the country. Marilyn’s next door neighbors in California were Sam and Marc Williams. Marc drove a long distance truck for Schneider trucking and had seen the United States from the highways. He always said he wanted to retire to Paris, Texas because it was a nice little town that would be perfect for his later years. When he and his wife finally moved, Marilyn decided to come, too - sight unseen.

They all arrived in Paris in 2003 and Marilyn jumped in. Her activities have included Prime Time, art lessons, music lessons, Red Hat Society, lay reader for Holy Cross Episcopal church, domino player, and exercise classes and trips through Prime Time. She believes there’s something to Texas hospitality although she had a hard time understanding our accent upon arrival. She notes people are very friendly here. “Nobody says hello in California.”

When the Chamber of Commerce promotes Paris as a great place to retire, Marilyn could be the poster child. She came without knowing anything about us, was greeted with open arms, and decided to stay and to participate. She’s proof that America’s mobility can benefit Lamar County.

TEN HIDDEN GEMS OF CLARKSVILLE AND RED RIVER COUNTY, TEXAS

2011-06-25T14:09:00.000-07:00

Red River County is old. Prior to settlers moving west to Texas, Caddo Indians passed often over the gentle hills and even stayed a while in villages. The Spaniards didn’t pay much attention but early settlers crossed the Red River on their way to all that free land in Texas. Five signers of the Texas Declaration of Independence represented the Red River District at the Washington on the Brazos conference. William Becknell (1788-1856), father of the Santa Fe Trail and first to take a wagon trail across the country’s interior, is buried west of town in the middle of a pasture. Over 200 cemeteries are listed on the Historic Texas Cemetery website. It is no surprise then to find that much of what Clarksville and Red River County has to offer the traveler is history. There are some nice restaurants interspersed.

1. First Presbyterian Church, Clarksville, is the oldest, continuously operating Protestant church in Texas. Considering how many protestant churches there are in Texas, that’s quite an honor. The church is well maintained and has the side Corley Family Chapel with stain glass windows made by the Jacoby glass company. Check with Jim Clark 903.427.2266 to gain entry. 106 S. Pecan Street

2. The Red River County Courthouse. What I can say? This beautiful structure is as close to the Italian Renaissance as you’ll find in these parts. Built in 1884 from yellow stone cut from a quarry 45 miles away, it was beautiful for its time and beautiful now. Thanks to a renovation in 2003, the courthouse shines. Inside, the hallways creak with original wood and that winding staircase leads you to one of the most authentic, historical district courtrooms in Texas. And just down the street is the museum at the Old Jail built in 1887 which provides a glimpse into penal conditions of the 1800s. Courthouse - open 9:00 to 5 - Monday to Thursday. Contact Jim Clark to see Old Jail.

3. Coleman’s BBQ is not on the main drag. You’ll find it by the pick-ups parked outside at noon. Begun in 1972 by the Coleman Family, it’s been serving great Texas Bar-B-Q to locals of all colors and classes. But the inside secret is they also make wonderful tamales which my family has enjoyed on Christmas Eve for years. 604 North Donoho Street. 903-427-3131

4. Built in 1833, three years before Texas Independence, the DeMorse House is the oldest building in this old town. It is a two room log cabin and housed Colonel Charles DeMorse, the father of Texas journalism. Writers of Texas history in the 1800s refer often to the Clarksville Standard, which DeMorse founded as the Northern Standard in 1842. It was one of Texas' most influential newspapers. A drive-by tour is all that is available at this time. Located at 115 East Comanche Street.

5. Even the country club is old here. The Clarksville Country Club was built in 1920 and hosts a beautiful nine hole golf course. There are no reviews of this golf course on the PGA web site but Northeast Texans consider it a hidden gem. Green fees vary from $26 to $39 and the course is open to the public. Four miles north of Clarksville on Highway 37

6. Wildcat Creek Quail Hunting Lodge. Opened just two years ago, this lodge is attracting much attention. Whether you want to hunt quail, pheasant, deer or turkey, or simply enjoy a generous four course, fixed price evening meal, the staff is eager to serve you. Chef David will visit at your table and even describe the thrill of getting a turkey with a seven inch beard. You don’t have to be a hunter to enjoy the drive in the country, the high quality meal, or the chef.Wildcat Creek Quail Hunting Lodge

7. Lennox House The Lennox family were the Rothschilds of Clarksville and Red River County, having extensive land and bank holdings. The three siblings of Bagby, David, and Martha Lennox lived in the same house for most of their lives. At their death, the home was given to the Red River Historical Society. It is beautifully restored and used for special events. Jim Clark can arrange a tour. 601 West Broadway.

8. Located on the recently renovated downtown square, the Italian Bistro is a welcome food option in these parts. The menu is authentic and the price reasonable. You’ll also meet many locals if you dine here. The owners, Alek and Aurora Lleshi, are friendly and available and will make any accommodations possible. Drop in after shopping the great antique stores on the square. 106 North Walnut Street.

9. If you enjoy nature, north of town is the Martha Lennox Memorial Nature Trail, located on a pristine old-growth forest and donated to The Nature Conservancy by the Lennox family. The Trail is a mile and a half loop that takes you under trees and over logs and from low, wetlands to highlands. You don’t have to be able to recognize a Lady Slipper Orchid or a white oak to enjoy the woods. Local Master Naturalists have provided markers naming various plants and trees. For visual learners, there’s even a picture of the identified plant. Call John Nichols for a tour - 903.427.5279. Lennox Woods

10. Trees. I mean it. Red River County has seven state champion trees on the Big Tree Registry maintained by the Texas Forestry Service, all on the Sulphur River. These include the Mimosa (silk) tree, the Nutmeg Hickory, and the Eastern Redbud. While I can’t give you directions to these particular trees, the countryside of Red River County is a hidden gem. Try driving north of Detroit on FM 410 and 195 or wander around FM 909, 44 or 1487, in the south of the county. The ranches are massive and the trees large. It’s well worth an outing.

Jill Gila Rosenfield - Israeli Guide Extraordinaire

2011-06-19T11:48:00.000-07:00

I had heard jokes about the number of guides in Israel as in “everyone in Jerusalem is a tour guide”. There are reputed to be over 10,000 licensed guides in Israel. That same percentage for the United States would equal about 350,000 guides! I didn’t appreciate the “licensed” part of the title until meeting our guide, Gila Rosenfield.

Gila was recommended by a mutual friend which is how most clients come to her - by referrals. She is, actually, a typical guide who was raised in a Zionist family outside Israel (Zimbabwe), came there in her 20s to work on a kibbutz, and stayed. After six months, she moved to Jerusalem to teach. As she noted, “socialism sounds better as an idea than in practice.” When a friend encouraged her to be a tour guide, Gila applied and was accepted into the Ministry of Tourism’s School of Tourism.

This is a two year program that is anything but easy. A psychological exam is given before admitting a student. And then the courses are intense. Here is a description of the required subjects: “These are quite intensive and difficult studies including: prehistory, ancient and middle ages, the modern State of Israel and the region, and all nations that lived there in the past. ... Israel tour guides need to be versed in basic archeology, geology, climate, flora and fauna, ornithology, architecture, zoology, etc. In the school, Israel tour guides study the legal system of the past and present. Hundreds of study days in the field accompany the course work ... as well as exams.” Jewish, Christian, and Muslim guides are all required to be licensed.

Gila took the courses while still teaching kindergarten. After being certified, she used her school sabbatical to try her hand at guiding. Not only could she make more money, but Gila thrived on sharing her immense knowledge with foreign visitors. Fifteen years later, we benefitted from her studies and enthusiasm.

Each morning, Gila arrived with her satchel full of study aids for that day’s sites. She was sensitive to the fact that she was Jewish and we were Christians. On the first day, we followed the Stations of the Cross. Gila was careful about describing what could actually be proved and what required the Jerusalem phrases “it is believed” and “if you believe it, it is true.” Since Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all share the Old Testament, Gila could also easily point out Old Testament sites and help us with the history of the First and Second Temples. We passed through the Muslim, Christian, and Armenians quarters that day.

On the second day, we moved into the Jewish quarter and delved more deeply into archeology - a very political subject. Gila stays up with the latest news through an online magazine and newsletter called Biblical Archeology Review (BAR.com). She was well aware of the great archeological divide between the skepticism of the secular Tel Aviv Archeologist, Israel Finkelstein, and others who are convinced they have found proof of David’s palace in recent discoveries. Intense excavation under the Jewish Quarter after the destruction from the 1967 War has revealed many details of life two thousand years ago.

Current day digs continue in the City of David area just outside the Old City walls. We were reminded of the fairness of our guide as we exited the excavation area. Two young women, one Jewish and the other Arab, were handing out pamphlets warning “What your tour guide is not telling you”. Much of that site’s excavation was happening under Palestinian homes whose residents were fearful of cave-ins but who couldn’t afford to sell. Fortunately, Gila had already educated us on that issue and she made sure the protestors knew that.

As with any good guide, we were able to ask Gila anything about modern day Israel and she answered honestly. There were parts of life in Israel that frustrated her such as the stronghold that the conservative Haredim families have on the government and its dole and the lack of compensation for Palestinian families after the ‘67 war. Yet, she would be nowhere else. She talked proudly of “when we united Jerusalem” and of how life goes on in Israel despite the pressure surrounding it.

At the end of our last day with her, Gila took us to the literal center of Jerusalem, a second floor walkway that had been built over the old Roman Cardo street. She pointed out the Arab quarter with flat roofs and TV dishes, the slanted, tiled roofs of the Christian quarter that were modeled after European homes, the small hidden Armenian quarter, and the Jewish quarter dominated by its beautiful new synagogue. As we rested, the call to prayer began in stereo sound around us from many minarets. Gila then read about Jerusalem in Psalm 87 as translated by our mutual friend, Lynn Bauman. “ You see, it is a homeland, a sacred birthing place, for all people across the world. And there God’s presence dwells, and draws them in, and makes them all her own. So each soul leaves that place a singer and a dancer, saying ‘All my fresh, creative springs flow out of you, my Mother.” Thanks to Gila, we left Jerusalem better informed, sympathetic and a singer and a dancer.

On Jordan's Roads and Highways

2011-05-29T12:58:00.000-07:00

Bedoin Tents

Jordan is a small country carved out of the 1919 Paris Peace Conference after World War I. The current King Abdullah, of the Hashemite family, is a descendent of King Abdullah who first ruled the new country. It is still proud of its Bedouin heritage - those tribes that roamed the deserts and fought fiercely. While most of its people live in Amman and other cities, Jordan’s countryside reveals a bygone time as well as the country’s emerging economy.

We crossed from Israel at the Allenby/King Hussein bridge, a tedious procedure through seven checkpoints that cost two hours going and three hours back. When we finally got on the road to Petra, our driver, Moreed, maneuvered the back roads along the Jordan river. Tents of modern day Bedouins still dotted the landscape but were now also made of canvas, thatched grass, cardboard, plastic sheets and newspaper as well as the traditional woven goat’s hair. Rock cairns marked a shepherd’s grazing field. In May, the tribes load their pick-ups and move to the cooler high altitudes in the near-by mountains. Camels are still raised for meat, not travel. Our driver insisted their meat had medicinal value as Bedouins didn’t have cancer! When we stopped to photograph the sheep and goats, a shepherd in modern day pants and jacket asked if he could brew us some tea from the makings in his pack. We reluctantly declined.

Also in the lower elevation were irrigated fields of vegetables and fruits. At the end of a row, the neighboring dry desert land lay fallow. Further down the highway were orchards of medicinal herbs and aromatic plants that provide two per cent of Jordan’s exports. The Hawthorne tree is one example whose products are reported to reduce blood pressure and treat heart ailments.

Dead Sea on Jordan side

Soon, the Dead Sea approached with its deep blue-green colors and white salt crystal beaches. Jordan has a major development of high-end hotels along these waters. Marriott, Crowne Plaza, and even the Holiday Inn are just some of the chains that have built large facilities with beaches, pools, spas, and restaurants. The Dead Sea water is buoyant enough to sit up and even read a newspaper. ts minerals make the water silky and the temperature is perfect for a refreshing float. Jordan is far ahead of Israel in promoting the Dead Sea as a resort destination. At the end of the Dead Sea, factories mine potash and salt from the water - all for export.

One of many pictures of
King Abdulla

Turning east, we began the climb through a moonscape of dry mountains with our lone road providing the only color contrast. At the top of the ridge, an outpost straight out of Star Wars sported a photo of King Abdullah, rug covered benches, and the head of a gazelle. A turbaned Arab in his jallabiya robe, offered drinks as he lounged on his black leather couch under the thatched porch. Only the TV dish and refrigerator betrayed the scene as current.

Crusade Castle at Kerak

We soon turned onto The King’s Highway, one of Jordan’s two north-south corridors. The road dates back to Biblical times when Moses lead his people to first see the promised land at Mt. Nebo. If accompanied on this highway by a Bible, Koran, history book, and a good archeologist, one could check off Biblical sites, Roman fortresses, the massive Crusader castle at Kerak, fine Christian mosaics, a 1918 battle site for Arab Independence at Al Tafilah, early Islamic towns, a Shia holy shrine and the Nabataean capital of Petra. Add in the geological wonder of the Wadi Mujib, Jordan’s Grand Canyon, and your Jordan bucket list just got smaller.

Water pipes being installed

Coming off the central mountain ridge, we joined the Desert Highway, the primary four-lane, commercial freeway from Amman to Aqaba at the Red Sea. Immediately, we were surrounded by trucks moving freight to and from the port. Signs for Iraq and Saudi Arabia reminded us of their proximity. Despite the barren land, efforts were being made to beautify the road with patches of newly planted bushes, watered by small, elevated tanks. Alongside the road was an incongruent scene of large pipes being buried to transfer sweet, subterranean water from the desert to Amman.

We passed several security checks for drivers’ licenses, an opportunity for the policemen to rib our driver about being with three women. Bedecked Bedouin drivers passed us in their pickups talking on their cell phones, a notable change from camels of the past. Yet we were still advised to watch for the “ships of the desert” on the road. And signs of the past included a decaying Turkish fort and an army base made sparse by the abolition of the draft in 1978.

During our four short days on the road, Jordan’s past and present were on display. From the busy Red Sea port of Aqaba through the historical Wadi Rum desert of Lawrence of Arabia fame, to the pink carved sandstone of Petra, the small country is capitalizing on its beauty, history, and geography. Its economy benefits from the trucks and the tour buses - an alliance that serves this petroleum absent country well and tourists most.

United Travel Agency (UTA) is a good, long serving company for your travel needs. United Travel Agency Jordan Ask for Moreed as your driver.

Israel - Tourists Welcome as Life Goes On

2011-05-07T15:13:00.000-07:00

“Israel and Jordan” I would reply to inquiries of my next trip. What followed were wide eyes, momentary silence, and the following “Aren’t you afraid?”. The last question is a product of our instant, sensational news programming. Statistically, I was in no more danger traveling to Israel than a quick trip to Dallas. Other than references to Foreign Terrorists Organizations and sudden Israeli crack-downs in the West Bank, the U.S. State Department could only warn travelers to Israel about car break-ins and an occasional purse snatching. And, despite the Middle East turmoil, the State Department warnings haven’t changed since last year. Yet, many visitors still hesitate to come.

One obvious difference between a trip to Dallas and one to Tel Aviv is the lack of an underlying, simmering tension among Israel, the Palestinians, and neighboring states. Stories that appear in international papers are frightening. Just two weeks before we were scheduled to depart, an Israeli family in a West Bank settlement was murdered at night in their home. For the first time in four years, a bomb went off at the bus station in Jerusalem and one person killed. And rocket missiles were once again being fired from Gaza into southern Israel.

I wrote our contacts in Israel, asking if we should be concerned. Our landlady’s response - “Not at all”, our friend’s answer - “Not enough to cancel”, and our guide’s thoughtful reply “Of course this attack brings back fears but we Israelis try not let atrocities like this change our lives… so life pretty much carries on as normal. Due to the attack, people are being more vigilant and careful and there is heightened security around and one hopes and prays that it is an isolated incident. At this stage, I don’t think you need to change your plans. ”

We didn’t change our plans and arrived at the Ben Gurion airport on a beautiful day in April. In the next two weeks, we saw much of Israel and in particular, Jerusalem, but few crowds of tourists. Never did we feel in danger. If we hadn’t occasionally read the the Jerusalem Post, we would not have been aware that a Gazan missile had killed a child in a school bus. Nor would we have known that Israel had inaugurated the use of a portable anti-missile machine used to knock down the missiles from Gaza before they landed. Life simply went on in Israel. We even had some Israelis confess they didn’t listen to the news at all because it wouldn’t change how they lived their lives and only made them anxious.

Israel is careful. The country was on high alert for the Easter and Passover holidays. Threats had been made of planned kidnaping. Security was particularly high in Jerusalem. This meant a pumped-up armed army presence at holy sites, entrances, and bus stations. Yet the soldiers still posed for pictures with the tourists. I watched one army unit casually eat at a snack bar near a major archeological site. And on a Saturday night of R&R, a group of uniformed women enlistees walked down the street singing and carrying their fashionable purses.

This determination to continue normal life was most evident one late afternoon. We had visited the old city of Acre, filled with Crusader churches, views of the Mediterranean and a living Arab presence. Fifteen minutes away was the Lebanese border where a tourist attraction beckoned. A cable car carried visitors down to the sea to view the beautiful grottos formed at the base of the cliff. Upon arrival, we spotted Israeli soldiers atop the cliff keeping watch over Israel and Lebanon. The road literally ended at the cable car parking lot. Below were farms, homes, and the grotto. We visited with an Israeli family who lived down the road and was just out for the evening. Yet, I had read recently that Hezbollah was accumulating rockets just inside Lebanon to use against Israel, literally a stones throw away. This fact made little difference on that Saturday outing. Life went on and so did we.

The turmoil in the Middle East does worry Israelis and hurts business. Some see it as a good time to solve the long-standing conflict with the Palestinians who are also affected by the drop-off in tourism. When we visited the Palestinian West Bank city of Bethlehem, we had to take a taxi on the Jerusalem side to the security wall that now separates the two cities. After clearing security, a Palestinian taxi driver drove us to the Church of the Nativity. On a Palm Sunday, when thousands of pilgrims should be gathered outside the church, we walked in the door without waiting. The slowdown in tourism in the Palestinian areas is attributable to the concern about the Middle East and a hesitancy by visitors to cross the security wall. Yet the Palestinian police are trained by us! We were treated well, never felt in danger and wished we could have stayed longer.

Humans have a hard time ignoring sensational news. One death from a missile in southern Israel is far more intimidating than many deaths from drug related fights in south Los Angeles. Our emotions want to ignore the numbers that prove Israel and the West Bank are as safe as the United States to visit. Could the Middle East erupt in a war while you visit? Of course, but what are the chances, really? The wonderful travel writer, Paul Thereoux, recently wrote a piece in the New York Times called “Why We Travel” . He has found that in almost every case, the “know-it-all, stay-at-home finger wagger’s” advice not go to a distant place has been bad advice. I returned from Israel with a greater understanding of my Christian heritage, the Jewish/Palestinian conflict, the geography of the Holy Land, and a love of pomegranates. And, I found one thing Israelis and Palestinians can agree on- they want the tourists to visit.

Quebec’s Economuseums - Enlightened Contributions to Cultural Tourism Will Entertain the Family

2011-04-23T06:39:00.000-07:00

“We protect the know-how”, our guide explained. This summed up the goal of Quebec’s Economuseum system. Begun in 1992, this network safeguards knowledge of ancient trades such as blacksmith forging, bread baking, cheese making, and apple cider production. Today, 51 handicraft and agri-food trade businesses promote the crafts by opening up their work-in-progress to public view and selling the finished products. Families can easily combine vacation and education by exploring these examples of life in the past.

Most are in Quebec province. To be a member, the artisan must use traditional methods but be open to new and creative uses of the craft. Those who qualify proudly display the “Economusee” designation on their signs - in French, of course.

The economuseums vary greatly in size and offerings. Many charge for an informative tour and demonstration. On the lovely Ile d’Orleans, near Quebec City, La Forge a Pique-Assaut is a blacksmith shop open for touring and viewing. Using the same techniques that originally produced tools, horseshoes, and machines, Guy Bell and his assistant now create an array of beautiful wrought iron work for the home - furnishings, stair railings, and decorative pieces.

On the opposite side of the island, a wonderful Creme de Cassis is produced by the Monna family using local black currants. The liqueur is mixed with white wine or champagne for the traditional French Kir apertif. Recipes are provided to allow experimentation, including a Cassis Margarita - a new and creative use of an old craft.

Down the road in Charlevoix, artistic heart of Quebec Province, papermakers at Papeterie Saint-Gilles stay busy dipping, pressing, separating, and drying sheets of cotton paper for elegant stationery. Across the St. Lawrence River, at Les Moulins de L’isle Aux-Coudres, wheat is ground by a watermill fed by an old-fashioned mill pond. We learned the success of this operation depended on a perfectly set and scraped 2,000 pound grindstone as well as the right direction and amount of wind. If all is lined up properly, 450 pounds of flour can be ground in one hour. Children will enjoy exploring the grounds of the mill. Flour and breads are available for purchase.

The largest Economusee we visited was the Laterie Charlevoix where dairy products have been produced since 1948 by the Labbe family. Traditional and experimental cheeses are now the emphasis. All stages of cheesemaking are on view with a tour as well as a sampling of the products. The cheddar curds are used in ‘potin’, a Quebecan concoction of french fries topped with cheddar curds and gravy. With great names such as L’Hercule de Charlevoix, their cheeses are sold onsite and sell out everyday.

A “traditional” museum on the grounds gives a fine history of milk production and its delivery system. The collection of 600 different milk bottles is small by American standards but still impressive. On a busy summer day, 2000 tourists will visit the Laterie, including many families.

We were only able to sample a few of the economuseums but it was enough to appreciate the effort being made to protect ancient arts and trades. Blacksmith shops, cheese creameries and paper mills are now inter-active museums as well as studios for production of traditional trades. The result has been good for creativity, protection of ancient crafts, education of students, and for family tourism.

Maybe Northeast Texas could explore this new idea of what a museum should look like. We have dairies, blacksmiths, winemakers, coffee roasters, quiltmakers, and other ancient trades still being practiced here. It would be a great regional project and families would appreciate the opportunity to have fun while learning a thing or two.

Forget the Hotel - Rent An Apartment

2011-03-24T15:23:00.000-07:00

Apartment in Paris

Europeans have long known the secret to economic lodging and a solution to small hotel rooms - rent an apartment. That’s not a surprise since many workers on the Continent have the month of August to vacation and a hotel room would be quite small for all those many days. Americans are more familiar with buying timeshares for extended stays of a week. But with timeshares, you are limited to using them in the building where purchased or at other facilities in the network. An apartment rental is basically an “out of network” approach to lodging. The question is when and how to use this method.

I first experienced apartment letting on the Island of Sicily in Siracusa. My husband and I were traveling with a close couple friend and planned to remain in one location for several days. The island is relatively small and many day trips available - a perfect opportunity to rent a flat.

View from Balcony at Siracusa Apartment

It all began with a google search “weekly apartment rental in Siracusa, Italy”. What appeared were both companies that manage apartments for many owners and individual owners who want to have direct contact with their renters. Vacationsrentals.com, homeaway.com, ownersdirect.com are some of the bigger companies. The two bedroom apartment we rented advertised on several web sites. Today, that apartment rents for an average of $135 per night. Divide that by two couples and each pair pays $62.50 per night for two bedrooms, bath, kitchen, dining room, and large living area complete with balcony. That, my friends, is a deal. We were able to cook breakfast each morning and occasionally bring in picnic material from the nearby market. An added bonus was dinner with the owners who had only recently renovated our apartment. Over a meal of camponata, four kinds of scacciato (an Italian meat pie), and homemade grappa, we visited, using six languages, Sicilian, Italian, French, English, German and Spanish. No hotel can offer an experience like that.

Front of our apartment building in Paris

For a rather spontaneous week-long visit to Paris, France, my girlfriends and I wanted to try an apartment. The same companies used in Sicily also had options but there were more sites such as parisvacationapartments.com and vacationinparis.com. The latter is a U.S. company that even provides you with keys before you leave. They offer a range of lodging from studios for $99 per night to a floor in a mansion for $690/ night. After a lot of searching, we found a two bedroom apartment in the Marais area near the Pompidou museum and a metro stop. Fortunately, it had a (very) small elevator as we were on the top floor. The ceiling slanted on the edges so we hung out in the middle of the living area. For two evenings, we did take-out from nearby restaurants and we were able to entertain an old family friend with wine and cheese. This cost $1,000 for the week, divided by three people, divided by seven days or $47/night per person. That, my friends, is a deal.

Inside Guanajuato Apartment

The most recent use of this type of lodging was a trip to Guanajuato, Mexico. The first apartment we tried to rent had a great web name - bestmexicanhome.com and was an example of an owner advertising directly on the web. Unfortunately, the best Mexican home was not available. We used VRBO.com, Vacation Rentals by Owner, to snag an absolutely beautiful, recently renovated, three bedroom apartment.

roof top terrace in Guanajuato

Tiled floors, front balconies, roof top terrace, full kitchen, washer/dryer, and a collection of books were included. All major attractions were within walking distance and strolling troubadours serenaded us at night. The cost? Five hundred dollars divided by four people divided by seven nights - $18 per night per person. In a recent web search, I noticed this gem had gone up to $700 for a week but my friends, that’s still a deal.

I haven’t tried renting an apartment in the United States but will definitely consider it the next time we visit my sister-in-law in New York City. Nyloftvacationrental had a large one bedroom for $225 per night, nyhabitat.com offered a one bedroom for $190 per night and craigs list had a 3 bedroom for $170 per night or a one BR in Greenwich Village for only $50/ night. Homeaway.com has offerings all around the country, even including cabins and lakefront property in East Texas. Using the large companies does give protection from scams but the best prices are those with direct contact with the owner.

For an extended stay in a location, renting an apartment is easily the most comfortable and economical. For shorter stays, the benefits are somewhat diminished as there is usually a cleaning fee. But for a “real” experience of life in Paris, France, New York, or Pittsburg, Texas, an apartment wins.

Ojo Caliente Spa - Still Funky Despite Upgrade

2011-03-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

Entry to Ojo Caliente

I’m not generally a spa person although I like the acronym, “Salus per Aquas” or health through water. They’re usually too intimidating and rich for my taste. But trust New Mexico to blend the funky with the fabulous at Ojo Caliente, a resort/spa 50 miles northwest of Santa Fe.

This is an old place. Hundreds of years ago, the ancestors of the Tewa tribe lived near the hot waters in the thousands, building pueblos nearby. In the 1500's, Spaniards passed through and named the hot springs “Ojo Caliente” or“hot eye”. They were impressed with the powerful chemicals contained in the waters and valued by the natives. Today, those minerals of lithium, iron, soda, and arsenic are still believed to rejuvenate and refresh the bathers.

Porch on Historic Hotel

Ojo claims to be America’s oldest health spa. In 1868, Antonio Joseph, New Mexico’s first territorial representative to Congress, opened a spa here with overnight lodging. Known for its curing of invalids, the sanatarium attracted the ill from around the country. The current hotel, built in 1916, is creeping up on its 100th birthday. Traces of its earlier days remain with real room keys, creaky, wooden hallways, transom windows above the doors, quilt covered beds, and small baths without showers. One is required to shower in the new facilities close to the hot waters. With no TV or radio, reading is encouraged in the room’s rocking chair.

One of the new additions

When Ojo Caliente was renovated and changed into a “luxury” spa, regular clients were worried about the upgrade. Hippies from the hills loved this place. I had visited once before the 2005-2010 changes and found it very laid back. There was a turnstile in the dusty welcoming booth with a small gift store nearby containing primarily t-shirts and soaps. Staying the night was more an afterthought than a treasured part of the experience. Today, in addition to the historic hotel, new rooms have been added in front of the cliff with various amenities. Most are appropriate for families but a few seemed X-rated with private hot tubs on the back porch!

The hot springs area has been significantly upgraded although two pools are holdovers - the Iron Pool to prevent fatigue, and the indoor Soda Pool, to aid digestion. The swimming pool is greatly improved with the coolest of the waters. Temperatures for the pools range from 95 to 111 degrees. Forty licensed massage therapists (LMTs) stay busy with the Earthkeeper's Hot Stone Massage being the favorite. Gratefully, the old-fashioned, deep tubs in the bath house are still available for soaking in the natural light above.

The owners are serious about preserving a tranquility appropriate for a relaxation spa. A sign at the Iron Pool advises all that only whispers are allowed. Upon entering the hallway in the historic hotel, a Quiet Zone sign greets you.. And cell phones are only permitted in the lodging units and large parking lots, a rule I particularly appreciated. Yet, we found it easy to meet other guests in some of the pools and in the restaurant lobby. A raw food enthusiast shared her raw grain cereal with us as we discussed New Mexico art and we chatted easily with two girlfriends from Colorado in the Arsenic pool.

Restaurant Lobby in Historic Hotel

The greatest surprise was the restaurant. Three meals - three wonderful experiences. Thank you Chef Neil Stuart. I’m hooked on chile rellenos and will even take notes on what can be stuffed in them. The roasted vegetable, sweet pepper and goat cheese relleno for an appetizer in the evening rated an entry and I was tempted by the buffalo sausage and polenta breakfast relleno. All courses had options with New Mexico twists such as blue corn meal pancakes and pumpkin tamales. Vegetarians will be very happy at the choices as will the carnivores.

The trick to making the visit here more economical is to arrive during the week as prices escalate for the week-end. Historic hotel rooms are still a bargain and all stays include unlimited use of the hot pools from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m.. A several day stay has more to offer than one would expect with nearby hiking trails and easy day trips to Taos and Santa Fe.

In perusing reviews of Ojo Caliente, I found one written before the renovations. It was described as “the buildings are old and solid, the air is sharp and clear, and you have to hunt to find a phone.” This description is still good for at least part of the spa. And the pinon infused air, clear New Mexico blue sky and star studded evenings have not changed. But with the additions and renovations, a larger clientele can be accommodated without sacrificing the magical setting that has drawn humans for thousands of years.

Hammocks by the swimming pool

Ojo Caliente web site

The Journey from Pakistan to Paris, Texas

2011-02-23T08:41:00.000-08:00

“I do the thinking part” is how Ayesha Shafiq describes her duties at her husband’s medical clinic in Paris. The truth is, Ayesha has always done the thinking part. She grew up in Peshawar, in the North-West Frontier Province of Pakistan - an area that is best known through the experiences of Greg Mortenson in “Three Cups of Tea”. She comes from a prominent family that owns M. Hayat & Bros. Ltd., a furniture manufacturing company established in 1870, that lists the Queen of England as a customer. Besides serving as Chief Secretary of the North-West Frontier Province, her father, Khalid Aziz, is well respected in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) of Pakistan. Americans have become quite familiar with FATA as some Taliban currently hide there. Pakistan does not have control over FATA even though it is within the borders. Personal relationships govern this area, not laws. Because Mr. Aziz is trusted by the tribes in FATA, he is able to get information to and from the tribes as well as the governments of Pakistan and the United States.

Ayesha studied International Relations and wrote for the local paper, The Frontier Post. In 1999, her father was arrested and falsely accused by members of then President Musharraf’s government of misconduct in the accountability bureau that he supervised. Their family home had been the center of many visits by foreign dignitaries. Ayesha met Princess Diana, answered the phone when the Prime Minister of Ireland called to leave a message, and knew all members of the Bhutto family of Pakistan. These experiences gave her courage to speak out about her father’s detention. She wrote an open letter that was published in a Karachi newspaper about her father’s arrest and poor treatment in jail. The editor of the paper called her one brave girl to speak up. It would be another three years before her father was released in 2003 but his treatment did improve and he was allowed to attend her wedding. After a four year trial, Mr. Aziz was fully acquitted of all charges in 2006.

Ayesha met her cardiologist husband, Khalid Shafiq, through family members. He traveled to Pakistan to marry her in 2000. After the wedding, they boarded a plane to begin the 36 hour journey to the United States. Upon arriving at DFW, her husband drove the final 100 miles to Paris, Texas providing the first view of this country.

Ayesha had to learn to drive. In Pakistan, the driving is hectic with no road signs and all understand this saying - “Every man for himself and God for the rest of us”. PJC said she was too old to take lessons there so Johnny Crawford taught her. For three years, she wouldn’t drive her new car because she was afraid of “bumping” it.

Khalid Shafiq’s dream of having his own clinic began to take shape in Paris and Ayesha was needed to help run it. She enrolled at PJC to take some Billing and Coding classes. She remembers hiding around the corner to learn how students got food and drink from vending machines. When her grades arrived, she was not sure what she had scored. But her husband explained that a 4.0 was the best grade, not a bad one. Ayesha now supervises the 22 employees at the clinic.

In 2006, the former President of Pakistan, General Pervez Musharraf, visited Paris to consult with his local cardiologist, Dr. Arjmand Hashmi. Elaborate plans were made among the various levels of law enforcement to safely escort Musharraf here. Dr. Hashmi and Khalid Shafiq are colleagues and share a homeland. Khalid and Ayesha offered to entertain President Musharraf at their home. It would be one of the more amazing “small world” experiences. Ayesha opened her home in Paris, Texas to the former leader of her country whose government was responsible for the imprisonment of her father. No mention was made of the shared history but pictures in their home of her father’s plight were obvious. All was cordial and Musharraf and his wife were quite gracious and appreciative of the hospitality.

Even when she was young, Ayesha believed in America. She liked our way of thinking. According to her, we’re honest and open in how we feel. After living here for 10 years, her only negative observation is that Americans take all that they have and can have for granted. If something doesn’t work, we dispose of it. To survive in Pakistan, one must make things work. You can’t walk away from a job, a car, your family. But this is her home now and she has adopted its rhythm. Her husband and children, Sayek and Layla, are busy and involved in the Paris community. Thanks to this supportive family, Ayesha awakes every morning with “the spark, energy and zeal” to conquer the world. Ayesha’s journey to Paris was longer than most but she and her family are happy to be here.

Images of a Comanche raid on Interstate 35

2011-02-12T13:47:00.000-08:00

My husband is from Austin. We both went to the University of Texas. Austin holds family and friends and we visit there often. The question is how to make that tedious five hour trip from Paris more interesting. I discovered the answer in a recently released book on the Comanche Indians called Empire of the Summer Moon by S.C. Gwynne.

Interstate 35 from San Antonio through Austin, Waco, and into Dallas is a kind of fault line, separating East Texas with its rain and forests from the scrub and dry plains of north and west Texas. This division also marked the frontier edge of Comanche territory. To the east, sedentary tribes farmed and hunted for game. Nacogdoches was a Caddo Indian village when the Europeans arrived.

On the west side of I-35, the Comanches lived off millions of buffalo who provided food, clothes, tools, and warmth in the winter. At its height, 20,000 members of the various bands of the tribe rode over 240,000 square miles through Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Kansas, and Oklahoma to trade and to fight. The Comanches muscled out the Apaches and other Plains tribes and traded with nearby tribes on their own terms.

Driving south on I-35, one encounters Waco, named after the Huaco tribe who had inhabited the area for hundreds of years. At the Waco village, the tribe had 400 acres under cultivation and grew corn, beans, pumpkins, melons, and peach trees. Modern day Waco was built on the Mexican land grant that surrounded the old Waco village site. These tribes feared the Comanches as much as early settlers and also tried to avoid them.

The Spaniards never resolved how to conquer the fast moving Indians on their well-trained mustangs who loved to steel horses in Mexico and Texas. Standing to shoot didn’t work as a Comanche could fling twenty arrows in the time it took one gun slinger to reload. The war parties attacked at night and would vanish if they encountered resistance. Their purpose was to keep settlers and Friars out of their hunting territory. Spanish expeditions simply avoided the vast middle area of Texas and parts north.

But then Texas opened up to settlers with offers of free land. East Texas filled up first. When the Parker family from Illinois arrived in 1833, they constructed a fort 30 miles east of Waco, past the then edge of settlements. On May 19, 1836, Comanches literally rode up to this personal fort and started killing and taking hostages, including the most famous of all, Cynthia Ann Parker. Take the Highway 164 exit at Waco, and you can visit a replica of this fort in Groesbeck, Texas. Cynthia Parker later married Pete Nacona, an Indian chief. Her son, Quanah Parker, was the one and only chief of all the Comanches bands. After her “rescue” many years later, she reluctantly lived in the Tyler area with Parker relatives until her death.

Much of the fighting over the years happened on either side of our highway. In 1749, priests were killed in a raid on the San Saba mission, near Menard,. In 1840, a leader, Buffalo Hump, brought 400 warriors down the Balcones Escaprment, along the spring-fed waters of San Marcos in Hays County, on his way to a raid near Victoria, Texas. Curiously, Hays County is named after John Coffey Hays, who was a savvy Indian hunter and one of the first Texas Rangers.

The last connection to this story on our trip is actually our own Lamar County, named after Mirabeau Lamar, president of the Republic of Texas from 1838-1841. He followed Sam Houston whom he considered soft on the Indians. Houston believed in negotiations and wouldn’t authorize frontier forts. Mirabeau was pro-slavery and felt all Indians should be expunged or killed - “extinction or expulsion”- i.e. no right to any land. He managed to get rid of the peaceful tribes of East Texas and moved them to Indian Territory or Oklahoma but the Comanches lived on for another 30 years.

The book is well worth reading and fills in the details of the Cynthia Ann and Quanah Parker story as well as life with the Comanches. For the next trip to Austin, I will wonder what it would be like to scan the horizon for a Comanche raid from the west. It’s certainly more romantic than watching out for a highway patrol.

Tunisia - A Country That Could Work Again

2011-01-24T08:35:00.000-08:00

Three years ago, my husband and I visited my cousin who lives in Tunisia. We were enchanted by this Mediterranean country with beautiful beaches and well-preserved Roman ruins. Europeans had long discovered the country’s temperate climate and flocked there in droves. But today as I write, Tunisia is in the midst of a revolution and all are holding their collective breath.

Before going to visit, I read “Tunisia, A Journey Through A Country That Works” by Georgie Anne Geyer, an author that was impressed with the progress this small country had made as a moderate in the Arab world.. After the French left in 1957, Habib Bourghiba became president of the new democracy. He had strong feelings about moving toward modernity - a kind of Tunisian Ataturk. Almost immediately, he banned polygamy, introduced judicial divorce for women as well as men, set a minimum age for marriage, gave women the right to vote and run for office, and made education free and compulsory for both sexes. Thirty percent of the budget was allocated to education. From this dedication, a large middle class emerged, with many college graduates. But there was no challenge allowed against Bourghiba who declared himself president for life in 1974.

In 1984, Tunisia erupted after a drought caused the cost of bread to rise 115% overnight. The government had too strong a hold on the economy and not enough jobs were being generated for the educated young Muslims. Islamists were plotting to overthrow the government. In 1987, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, Minister of the Interior, obtained a doctor’s letter saying Bourghiba was no longer capable of running the country, and stepped in as president. He was able to distinguish moderate from radical Islamists and courted the former. Participatory democracy still wasn’t permitted but the country did develop a National Pact with commitments from individuals, labor unions, schools, etc. Tunisia would remain a pluralist society with women being totally emancipated. Islam was the official religion but freedom of religion was assured.. Free political parties were not allowed immediately but were built into the process.

Since Ben Ali became president, poverty dropped by 80%. The percentage of Tunisians owning homes hit 80% at the turn of the century. Tunisians themselves contributed to a fund to be used for low interest loans to start small businesses. By cultivating tourism, the country could offer low budget/high value trips for Europeans to the beaches of Tunisia - the equivalent to America’s relationship with Cancun and the Mayan Riviera. Tunisia partnered up with France on commerce and military protection. All appeared from the outside to be good. But the drop in the world economy exposed cracks in the system.

President Ben Ali never followed through with the plan to allow free political parties and elections. His family became unseemly wealthy whose wealth was flaunted. My cousin tells of headline news about the president’s wife opening a Jaguar car dealership! His son is considered a billionaire. Freedom of the press was stifled. Even as the riots started over a month ago, Tunisian television continued to broadcast only the stale programs as usual. News of the happenings had to be obtained through the internet, twitter, etc. Over the years, the police became feared as the arm used to suppress opposition and free speech. As Georgie Ann Geyers now says, “Ben Ali stayed too long.”

Tunisia’s unemployment stands over all at 14% but even higher for the young and college-educated with all of the frustration associated with such high numbers. As you probably have read, the final straw came when a young man with a university degree couldn’t get a job and was forced to buy fruits and vegetables to sell from a stand. The police ‘raided’ his stand because he didn’t have the right papers and took all of his produce. Depressed, the young man set himself on fire and died. The lack of jobs is keenly felt here and in other Arab nations. Ironically, Ben Ali himself said years ago that the greatest challenge to his government and the Arab world was the paucity of jobs for the educated population. Last week, that problem revisited Tunisia and the government fell again.

It’s a very dicey situation today. Old and new leaders are struggling to form an interim government that can be maintained until elections are held. The army, whom the Tunisians trust, is working to keep the peace. Food is scarce. A trip out on Monday yielded my cousin’s husband some apples and oranges. They’ve had to clean out the pantry and freezer.

This is not Egypt nor Saudi Arabia. Tunisia is filled with educated, middle-class citizens. But the people are demanding the civil rights that Americans have long enjoyed - free political parties and fair elections, freedom of the speech and press. These are not radical Islamists and we should hope they’re successful in their quest for greater freedom. Let us also hope when the economy is opened up, jobs will develop, and Tunisia can again show the way to the Arab world.

Crime In Guanajuato, Mexico reveals Sympathetic Side of the Mexican People

2011-01-10T08:10:00.000-08:00

I have hesitated to write this story about an attempted theft in Mexico. The last thing I want to do is discourage tourists from going to Mexico. Most of that country is as safe as ours with the notable exception of northern Mexico. But the story is really about the response to the crime, not the crime itself.

I was traveling in Guanajuato, Mexico with my friends, Tina Smith and Betty Swasko, as well as Tina’s sister, Lisa Pavel. This 450 year old world heritage site boasts a great university, colorful homes, and old silver money. We had just exited a silver jewelry store onto Avenida Juarez when I heard shouting and sounds of a struggle behind me. I turned to see Lisa and Tina holding on to Lisa’s purse as a hooded man tried to pull it away. After several seconds, he gave up and ran down a nearby ramp to the street below. When he released his hold on the purse, Lisa fell back and hit her head against the jewelry store’s wall, injuring her head.

All around us people stopped to offer help. A policeman quickly appeared and ran after the thief. Betty crossed to a store to get tissue for the bleeding. Several bystanders shook their heads and expressed their condolences. And a young woman offered to walk us to the closest clinic. In a daze, we followed her for two blocks to Clinica Hospital where a receptionist quickly placed Lisa in an exam room.

As we were filling out the forms, three policemen and a television cameraman arrived in the courtyard. I guess we weren’t hard to find. A policeman had caught the robber and they wanted us to come to the police station to identify him. The cameraman filmed all of the conversation but I don’t know if it was shown on the news that night or not. The officers agreed to wait.

Lisa’s physician was capable, sympathetic and did the appropriate exam for a head injury. She needed several stitches which were quickly done. We were all impressed with Lisa’s toughness and inner fortitude. Thanks to her long held belief in alternative medicine, she had taken Arnica pills for the pain and cream for her bruises. Both appeared to work very well.

As we walked out of the clinic, there was one police car and an extra car to take us to the police station. Lights flashed as we made our way through traffic. At the station, Lisa and Tina were shown a picture of the alleged thief as well as his hooded jacket. They recognized both immediately. We got to meet our hero, Victor, who had caught the man. He was very familiar with this criminal who was known to have mental problems.

All seemed in order until they advised Lisa and Tina that they would have to return in several months to testify against the man. That was, obviously, not going to happen. So I went into my attorney mode and questioned why they couldn’t set up a hearing the next week while we were still there. The man had confessed. They had eye-witnesses. Appoint him an attorney and get it moving. When they realized I was an attorney, all laughed at the head officer and he shook his head. But I still couldn’t make the hearing happen.

Lisa needed to fill a prescription and get a tetanus shot. We didn’t know where to go and didn’t have transportation. The main officer offered a police car escort. Since it was raining, they backed the officer’s car into the courtyard to get as close as possible to us. We walked past the station's Shrine to the Virgin Mary as we climbed in and with lights flashing, headed to the Red Cross clinic.. That clinic had no tetanus vaccine. The trip to a second clinic was successful even though we were joined by a throng of pregnant women. With lights still flashing, we pulled in front of a pharmacy and had the prescription filled while the officer waited. The last stop was our apartment.

The experience feeds the stereotypical fear of both traveling and traveling in Mexico. But I’ve had far worse criminal experiences in the United States. And the response by the crowd, the clinic, and the police was universally sympathetic and solicitous. They all hated that this had happened to a tourist in their lovely town which is known to have a low crime rate. It didn’t slow down our visit as we continued with our itinerary to San Miguel de Allende the next day. And we all agreed that we would return to Guanajuato - in a heartbeat.

Oaxaca, Mexico with a Guide from Paris, Texas

2010-12-11T15:00:00.000-08:00

Oaxaca, Mexico has long fascinated Barbara Fendley and many others from Paris. Its arts and crafts draw in the artistic crowd, a heavy indigenous presence attracts sociology and history majors, while archeological aficionados drool over the nearby Mitla and Monte Alban ruins. On a more personal level, one of its Rotary Clubs is a sister club to our Monday Greater Paris Rotary Club.

Several years ago, Barbara decided to learn Spanish there and soak in the culture at the same time. She chose Becari Language School (http://www.becari.com.mx/) for her lessons. At first she stayed with a local family but now rents her own apartment for two months every summer. Toni Clem and I decided to pay our friend a visit.

Barbara’s most recent apartment on Tinoco y Palacios street sits next to a funeral home whose owner has befriended her. He easily greets Paris visitors while supervising his supply of caskets on display for passing residents. His dog knows that Barbara is good for a doggie treat every day.

After spending so much time in Oaxaca each year, Barbara is aware that the church bells ring at 6:45 a.m, the high fog horn comes from the Gas de Oaxaca truck, and that a man calls out every morning selling water. She knows the hours of restaurants, names of waiters, best prices for handicrafts and souvenirs, where to find quality goods, days that museums close, and who makes the best coffee. This is all very valuable information. As guests, our only job was to pick among her daily suggestions and follow.

We began with a cooking lesson at Casa Crespo (http://www.casacrespo.com/) where we sipped coffee around a circular table and discussed the menu. Oaxaca is known for its subtle and eclectic moles and sauces. Our chef, Oscar Carissosa, casually threw out suggestions for dishes with complex flavors and an occasional unfamiliar ingredient. After deciding on the four courses, Oscar grabbed a shopping bag and we quickly moved outside for the short journey to the Pascua market. Efficiently and expertly, he led us through a colorful maze of fruits and vegetables, stopping occasionally to explain a new fruit or herb. Honey bees hovered over the sweet blocks of candy and ants kept the salt dry.

Back at the restaurant, the cooking began. We moved between the chopping table and kitchen and used blenders, fine knives, and a tortilla press. Squash blossoms were rolled in a flour tortilla, pineapple, pork, and raisins stuffed into poblano chiles, and flan whipped and poured into a pressure cooker. Oscar carried all of the recipes in his head although he sent us the formulas by e-mail. Lunch was served in courses and we ate for two hours.

Throughout the rest of the week, Barbara led us easily through the streets of Oaxaca which has a known split personality. One part is dedicated to the large and profitable tourist industry. The crafts are still the best in the country. Since my last visit there 15 years ago, many of the streets and sidewalks have been repaved and the numbers and sophistication of restaurants have exploded as have the indoor and outdoor markets. Barbara introduced us to Casa Oaxaca (http://www.casaoaxaca.com.mx/) where a Houston trained Oaxacan chef created dishes such as duck tacos and a red snapper with lemon butter and capers served over a bed of tomato marmalade - the best dish I had there.

Oaxaca’s second face is political. The large, indigenous population found its voice many years ago and has demanded equal treatment. A strong teachers union holds annual massive strikes, sometimes with large demonstrations. The strike of 2006 caused the number of tourists to plummet and Oaxaca is just now recovering its previous numbers. This dichotomy is best represented at the Zocalo, Oaxaca’s central square. While we were seated at one of the many outdoor restaurants, vendors pleaded with us to buy painted book marks, woven scarves, or handmade backpacks. Across the street, a large painted sign hung between two trees demanding “Justicia para Oaxaca - ahora y siempre” - Justice for Oaxaca, now and forever. The two worlds of tourism and political activism slow dance together, trying not to trip the other up. (I hasten to add that we never felt in any danger during our visit.)

We also explored the markets of Benito Juarez, Mercado 20 de Noviembre, and Artesans de Oaxaca. Mujeres Artesanas ,(http://maroaxaca.blogspot.com/), a co-op store with a quality selection of artistic goods from all over Oaxaca, rated a second stop. We bought movie CDs at one street fair and bilingual books at another. With a chocoholic husband, I had to purchase blocks of chocolate from one of the many chocolate stores on Mina street. For a traveler who prides herself on minimal purchases, I found the beautiful and magical artistic world of Oaxaca irresistible and returned to Paris with many recuerdos de Mexico.

Oaxaca is an enchanting city made even more accessible by Barbara’s familiarity with its offerings. It is far removed from the violence of northern Mexico and deserves a greater following from Americans. We were lucky to have our own personal guide but even more fortunate to explore this world heritage site.

Lessons of the California Redwoods in Muir Woods

2010-11-23T06:19:00.000-08:00

The tall, svelte redwood trees were once common throughout California’s valleys. Because of unchecked logging, most stands disappeared. Less than five percent of the original two million acres of virgin forest remains today. But thanks to their difficult location, the redwoods in the Muir Woods National Monument area were spared. The trees are now also protected by Theodore Roosevelt’s proclamation making the area a national monument in 1908.

Having seen outings to the Muir Woods from San Francisco for years, my husband and I were finally paying our first visit. The drive was through the densely populated bay area with no glimpse of what lay ahead. Developments stopped as we passed through Mt. Tamalpais State Park. But it wasn’t until the turn-off from Highway 1 that the traffic and noise began to disappear. Soon cell phone service stopped. A steep, curvaceous road descended and placed us in the wonderland of coastal redwood trees - a world near the Pacific ocean but far away from the urban scene above.

The Muir Woods National Monument is on 295 acres donated by Congressman William Kent and his wife, Elizabeth Thacher Kent, who insisted that the monument be named after the conservationist, John Muir. Muir was a wanderer who studied at his own “university of the wilderness” and concluded that all living things had inherent value and deserved to live. He would be proud of the Sierra Club and the Nature Conservancy efforts today.

Inside the monument area, a two mile paved trail is the most popular although there are many more trails through the woods and over the hills. Because it is an old growth forest, the trees are......... well, they’re old. Most are 500 to 800 years old with the eldest having seen 1100 winters. The park uses one fallen tree’s trunk to tag various human activities on the tree rings. It had lived over 1,000 years from 909 A.D. to 1930. Columbus’ landing in 1492 happened two-thirds through that tree’s life.

A very clever park guide helped us appreciate the significance of the world’s tallest living organism. Here is what we can learn from the redwoods.

1. “Stand Tall and Proud” - The tallest redwood in the Muir Woods is over 250 feet tall but at other locations they can top out at 375 feet. Compare this to the tallest trees in Texas such as the 133 foot Bitternut Hickory or the 140 foot Nuttall Oak. Or better yet, compare with the smallest tree in the world - the dwarf willow at three inches!

2. “Live in a Cool Place” - The redwoods live in a narrow area along the coast of California. They don’t like heat, do like fog and would never survive in Texas.

3. “Drink Lots of Water” - They require 200 to 500 gallons of water a day - three to seven times more than the average daily water use for Americans of 69 gallons. The trees would be pretty thirsty in the dry summer were it not for the fog that carries moisture to the trees’ needles. Redwood creek also helps hydrate the trees.

4. “Support Members of Your Community” - The trees do this through their root system which is only six to eight feet deep. That sounds sufficient but it is the equivalent of a 5 foot 4 inch woman having a toe in the ground. Since the roots are shallow, they have to spread 50 to 100 feet to provide enough ballast for the trees to remain upright and survive the winds. Obviously, the roots will overlap and support the trees above.

5. “Grow a Thick Skin” - Their bark is up to 12 inches thick which protects the tree from the elements. The same tannic acid found in coffee, tea, and red wine makes the tree resistant to fire and insects. With no susceptibility to disease, the number one “natural” killer is the wind.

6. “Surround Yourself With Family” - A redwood cone is only the size of an olive. Since only one in ten thousand cones grow into trees, the redwoods needed some help with fertility. Nature provided it through burls, a dormant sprout that can be above or below ground. The underground burls can sprout into new trees, forming a family circle.

Gratefully, the virgin redwood forests are protected. But ninety-five percent of the redwood forests today have been cut at least once. Only 21 percent of that acreage is owned by California and the federal government with the rest in private or corporate hands. The challenge has been how to encourage the second-growth forest to minimize erosion, maintain wildlife and yet maximize timber production. In the October, 2009 edition of National Geographic, Jim Able, a former industrial forester for Louisiana Pacific, describes his plan of culling the weakest and most poorly formed trees, leaving the strongest to thrive. Some day, those saved trees will pay back the owners with huge harvests.

It was hard to look straight up at the Redwoods. Our necks weren’t used to stretching that far. But in the Cathedral Grove at Muir Woods, where trees circle around, it was enough to just sit and know they were with us and had been saved for our viewing. As much as I hate to admit it, California wins the tall tree round.

Experiencing the Hammam or Turkish Baths, at the Paris Mosque

2010-11-06T13:04:00.000-07:00

Modeled after the Greek and Roman baths, the Hammam is a form of steam bath and means the spreader of warmth. The Ottomans sowed this Turkish variation throughout Europe. They often are associated with mosques as the baths comply with Islamic laws of purification and hygiene. It was no surprise then to learn of a Hammam at the oldest mosque in Paris, France - the Mosque de Paris. Betty Swasko, Tina Smith, and I were ready for the adventure.

Finding the baths was the first challenge. At the address given, a North African restaurant overflowed into a lovely garden. A waiter pointed us toward the mosque around the block. There, a garden and cool fountain welcomed us but no baths. An elderly man redirected us back to the restaurant. Finally, inside the restaurant, behind the pastry counter, were two green and red painted doors with a sign above one stating “Hammam” and a reversible placard that said “reserve aux femmes” or women only on that day. Cautiously, we entered.

After passing though a tiled antechamber, we arrived at the register with a cashier who acted as if she had never heard a word of English in her life. Gratefully, a departing customer helped with the options and suggested a 20 minute massage for 25 Euros and a 15 Euro trip through the baths. We placed our names on the massage list and slipped on some green, plastic sandals, a far cry from the traditional wooded clogs or patens, carved and decorated with silver and mother of pearl.

There were no signs in English, or French for that matter, except a recurring one that warned us to rinse before entering the baths. Blindly, we found our way to the locker room and changed into bathing suits. After first opening the door to a utility closet, we finally discovered the shower room where an employee used hand motions to be sure all rinsed before entering the baths.

Turkish Baths are very moist and gradually heat your body by increasing the temperature in each of the three rooms. The final room can be as hot as 140 degrees. A Tas, or bucket of cool water, is provided to cool your body and a return trip to the showers is recommended before advancing to a hotter room.

Women of all sizes, shapes, nationalities, and degrees of modesty casually moved about the rooms. We bypassed the first area as the benches were full. A steam sauna sat in the middle of the second room with two elevated platforms on either side. No benches were provided but other participants were lying on the floor of the platforms with their legs resting on the wall. It felt odd but that’s what we did. We learned the reason for lying on the floor in the next room.

The third room was significantly hotter. If we stood, steam swirled around our heads. To breathe, we had to lie prone on the marble floor. Across the aisle, a few women sat in a circular pool that was too hot for us. We were quickly ready for another shower. By the third visit to the shower room, the employee had softened a bit and actually smiled at us.

It was time for our massages and we returned to the vaulted , carved entry area where four massage tables stood, guarded by old masseuses wearing the traditional hijab covering their heads. They motioned us to the tables and we climbed up. What followed was not really a massage - more of an oil rub over all parts of the body. After the heat of the baths, the almond scented oil was the perfect antidote. However, my masseuse had a distracting hangnail and Tina’s lady only worked on her shoulders and back as she talked throughout the massage and even answered her cell phone.

No one had mentioned towels but after the massage, we were dry enough to change clothes. Upon leaving, we encountered a single American woman entering the baths looking as confused as we had earlier. It was nice to return the favor and help her with the options and the process.

In a Turkish travel site, the hammam was described as “wafting steam through which daily worries and concerns cannot penetrate.” Now that we know the routine, this description would be accurate, especially on a vacation.

Paris Mosque website

Ten Hidden Gems of Mt. Pleasant, Texas

2010-10-24T10:54:00.000-07:00

Surrounded by lakes and woods in the heart of Northeast Texas, Mount Pleasant lives up to its name as a pleasing place to visit. Four major lakes within 30 minutes of the town limits make this the Bass fishing capital of Texas. A Blue Bird Trail and the Sleepy Hollow Daffodil Garden beckon in the springtime. Its restaurant selections support Texas classics such as chicken fried steak, BBQ, and Tex-Mex but for the more adventuresome palate, there’s a nice variety. Here are some suggestions for the day or overnight visitor as well as those with a more leisurely stay.

(1) Jo’s Antiques on the Square. This 26 year old, quality antique store has been discovered by many Dallas and Houston clients and owner Jo Campbell knows their names and interests. Her pieces all have stories and she has a large selection of R. S. Prussian porcelain. As an added bonus, her building dates from 1894, making it the oldest in Mt. Pleasant. Jo also has an interest in the adjoining Old World Interiors, a gift shop with jewelry and home accents.
102 North Jefferson Avenue. 903.572.3173

(2) Rodeo with a Capital R. There’s more than one opportunity to experience rodeo here. The Mt. Pleasant Rodeo in May draws a large crowd of participants and fans. A local company, Priefert Ranch Equipment, manufactures the widely used bucking chute, a pen that allows riders to safely mount a bull before the gate opens. If you miss the May event, the rodeo team at Northeast Texas Community College competes with 11 other colleges and their event is in October. And children can compete in an academic rodeo held during the Titus County Fair in October.

(3) Meson del Bajio. This is truly a hidden gem. If a friend had not recommended it, I would never have stopped at the wonderful real Mexican restaurant tucked behind mirrored doors in a tumble down strip center. The interior is filled with authentic Mexican furniture, including some antiques and a church door now used as a table. Owner Gabriel Lopez hails from the lovely city of Guanajuato, Mexico and is proud of his authentic fare. My chicken enchiladas with green chile sauce were not only delicious but were presented with fresh lettuce, tomato, crema, and avocado strips.
201 E. 1st Street. 903.575.0315 or 903.201.5604

(4) For the sweet tooth visitors, Mt. Pleasant is a treasure and will satisfy any craving.

The Sweet Shop USA is a transplant from Ft. Worth that sells wholesale high-end gourmet chocolate. But the good news is it has a gift shop that allows all to taste and purchase their products. For the hard corps chocoholics, a tour can be arranged if notice is given in advance.
Call 1-800-222-2269 for tour information
1316 Industrial Road
The Sweet Shop USA

Golden Gals Candy sells freshly made pecan pralines in three flavors. Other sweets are offered but the pralines rule.
210 W. 2nd Street. 903.577.3434
Golden Gal's Candy Company

Laura’s Cheesecake and Bakery. This very popular bakery offers a nice selection of sandwiches and salads which can be topped off with a slice of one of Laura’s Cheesecakes. I was surprised to find grilled vegetables with my turkey sandwich on foccacio bread - nice. Their cheesecakes are well-known, having been featured in Southern Living magazine, and are shipped around the country.
Located on downtown Square, 109 N. Madison. 903.577.8177.
Laura's Cheesecake

(5) A VERY small historical museum is located down the circular stairway in the Mt. Pleasant Public Library. Caddo Indians lived in the area as late as 1845 and a selection of their pottery is displayed. With its beginnings underground, the local lignite mining industry is over 100 years old. Monies from the Republic of Texas and the Confederacy tie this old county into Texas’ history. And my favorite was a 1870 Teacher’s contract that paid $800 for 32 weeks of instruction.
213 N. Madison. 903.575.4180
Mt. Pleasant Public Library

(6) Dellwood Park, at the east edge of town, has long, concrete sidewalks for running or strolling, tennis courts, open areas for soccer, painted bridges and fountains - a nice place to unwind after a day of visiting.
726 E. Ferguson Ave.

(7) Super Plaza Mercado. Thanks to the large Hispanic population in Mt. Pleasant, this well stocked grocery store features many products used for traditional Mexican cooking. Fresh and dried chiles, queso fresco, masa and Mexican pastries add authenticity to any Mexican meal. But it is also a great place to buy fresh meat and seafood, including options such as octopus!
1210 W. Ferguson. 903.575.9449

(8) Herschel’s Family Restaurant. From the outside, this restaurant appears to be a Dairy Queen knock off. But inside, sports memorabilia decorates the front room and a surprising array of animal trophies fill the large party room in back. Locals hang out here. The #1 combo is the most popular breakfast selection while chicken fried steak or a baked potato dominate at lunch.
1612 S. Jefferson. 903.572.7801

(9) Delia’s Salvadorian Cuisine. What a nice addition to the food scene in Mt. Pleasant. The family’s grandmother, Delia, began the family restaurant tradition in El Salvador. Her grandchildren have opened one here, introducing the local population to the papusa - hand made stuffed tortilla with cheese, beans, squash or meat. Try the black bean dip or the drink, ensalada de fruta. The family even brings back moro and marnon from El Salvador for authentic flavoring.
1406 N. Jefferson. 903.577.1882

(10) The Agriculture Building at Northeast Texas Community College. Ok, this is just outside of town but it’s worth the lovely ten minute drive to see a building of the future. Equipped with green screens on the windows, a pond to collect and recycle rain water, and a solar-powered electrical system, the building has earned a platinum rating on LEED, the green building certification system. We should all take notes.
Northeast Texas Community College

Other good restaurant choices are Mardi Gras, a locally owned Cajun restaurant, Luigi’s Italian Restaurant with its famous pink sauce, and Bodacious BARBQ, a regional favorite.

Tracking a Carrot for Campbell's Vegetable Soup

2010-10-03T10:20:00.000-07:00

The year was 1964. My father was a farmer in Plainview, Hale County, Texas and one of the first in the area to grow carrots, potatoes, and onions. He and his brother owned a produce shed that cleaned and bagged vegetables before shipping. Campbell Soup Company, the world’s largest maker and marketer of soup, had just opened a new plant in Paris, Texas. The company’s buyers came calling and soon Walker Brothers Produce had a contract to sell potatoes and carrots to Campbell Soup (CS). It was an exciting time in our household. For these reasons, I was curious how a carrot needed for a can of Campbell’s Vegetable Soup traveled today and what had changed since 1964.

The ingredients for the standard Campbell Soup Vegetable Soup have not varied much since its original production in1899. Nor surprisingly, carrots, potatoes, corn, onion, and garlic still dominate the recipe. A gradual lowering of the sodium content has been one nod to the push for a healthier life style. None of the ingredients for this soup come from abroad - a true “Made in America” product. Carrots from California, Texas and Ohio, potatoes from Colorado, Texas and Kansas and onions from Idaho are examples of the nation wide scope needed to maintain the raw ingredients.

In my father’s time, individual field agents kept track of the progress of a crop. It was important to them whether it rained on Charlie Walker’s carrots 400 miles away. Today, buying is more centralized, uses computer quotes and is often completed with larger purchases from huge farmers who can grow, clean, cool, and send the produce. Frozen and dried vegetables have also become a part of the process.

But there are still some individual carrot growers such as Tommy Jendrusch and Rick Harbison in McAllen, Texas who use their 1400 acres to sell vegetables to Campbell Soup and Gerber’s. Over the last 20 years, hybrid varieties of carrots have at least doubled the yield and increased the carotene and color. Their fields now have GPS coordinates and are numbered so that each load of vegetables can be traced to a specific block of land. The Paris plant likes buying from these Texas farmers as the transportation cost is less and minimizes their carbon footprint.

The contracted carrots from the Rio Grande Valley farm are loaded in bulk onto a refrigerated truck maintained at 35 degrees and shut with a bolt seal to protect the integrity of the load. The load is shipped to Paris and then quickly unloaded at the plant. A devise called the “sputnik” crawls into the truck with a conveyor belt that gently pulls in vegetables from the lower part of the truck opening and delivers them to a second conveyor belt to be washed, sorted, and diced.

A giant vat is used to mix the ingredients according to a traditional recipe with modern technology directing the amounts needed. Computers also monitor quality control as the soup progresses. Soup is poured into individual cans and cooked. The cans are made on site by the Silgan Container Company which also reduces transportation costs. The classic labels made famous by the painter, Andy Warhol, are last to be added.

The amount of soup made each year is determined by the customer and is called historic numbers. Campbell’s, obviously, prefers cold winters and as an employee noted, “we’re not fans of global warming”.

A significant change from years past has been the packaging. The standard pallet contains 170 cases but customers such as Sam’s, Costco’s and other club stores, ask for and get different numbers of cans under the shrink wrap.

After canning, cooking, and packaging, the soup is ready to ship. Campbell Soup allows its customers to use their own trucks or trucking companies to transport the soup. Many other manufacturing companies will limit access to two or three trucking companies. CS does not sell directly to the grocery stores. Trucks deliver the pallets to distribution centers. Our carrots could end up in any of the eleven near-by states served by the Paris plant. We’re almost exactly in the middle of this territory which minimizes transportation costs for the customers.

In the end, our carrots were well traveled - by truck from the farm field to produce sheds, the CS plant, distribution centers and grocery stores and by car to your home. The price of gas has to affect the cost of the soup. CS plants then must use technology and efficiency to keep the cost of their soup lower. This translates into more business and eventually, more jobs.

The basic process of making and transporting soup and its ingredients hasn’t changed that much over the last 46 years. The trucks are now refrigerated, bigger, and more efficient. Technology directs the process today. Produce is no longer raised on the Texas Panhandle but it still comes from American farms. I can’t pretend that the carrots in the soup are from our farm but I’m happy to know some American farm children can still make that claim.

Mexico Celebrates Two Anniversaries in 2010

2010-09-19T11:14:00.000-07:00

On a recent trip to Oaxaca in the far south of Mexico, I saw a countdown clock. On that day it was 21 days, five hours, 13 minutes and 35 seconds until September 16, 2010 - the 200th anniversary of Mexico’s Independence Day. A second celebration will take place on November 20th as the 100th anniversary of the Mexican Revolution. President Calderon declared 2010 as the “Ano de la Patria” or “Year of the Fatherland” for Mexico. Countdown clocks are in each state capital. I needed a quick review of Mexican history to understand the two celebrations and our neighbor’s roller coaster ride to the modern era.

In 1810, Father Manuel Hidalgo called for Independence from Spain in a shout out from his church in Dolores which is referred to throughout Mexico as “El Grito de Dolores”. After initially fighting each other, a strange alliance of Mestizos (mixed blood) and Indigenous people with the Creoles and other Mexican ex-royalists finally prevailed. The fighting was not pretty with rebel heads being hung on the outside of a granery in Guanajuato. It took 11 years to get to a “constitutional monarchy” in which General Iturbide became the First Constitutional Emperor. He didn’t last long and was deposed by our very own Santa Anna. In 1824, a constitution modeled after that of the United States was adopted.

Throughout the next 80 years, Mexico was a punching bag - constantly harassed and invaded. From 1846-1848, four American campaigns entered Mexican soil which included the occupation of Mexico City in 1847. This resulted in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo that gave Texas, California and New Mexico to the U.S. for $15 million. When Benito Juarez suspended interest payments on loans to foreign countries (except those of the U.S.), France took the lead among the European nations and also captured Mexico City in 1861, placing Archduke Maximilian as second Emperor of Mexico. As French troops started to withdraw, Mexican Republicans moved in and executed Maximilian. Benito Juarez returned to power and governed until his death in 1872.

Porfirio Diaz won his first term as president in 1876 and literally ruled for eight terms. He suspended freedom of the press, dissolved local authorities, and enforced a “pan o palo”, “bread or beating” approach toward his followers. Even though he did bring in money for the country by foreign exploitation of Mexico’s wealth, only the upper crust benefitted.

In 1910, after more than 30 years of this dictatorship, an interesting coalition of Francisco Madero, General Victoriano Huerta, Emiliano Zapato, Pancho Villa and Venustiano Carranza came together to chase Diaz out of the country. This is the second celebration in Mexico on November 20th - the 100th anniversary of what is called the Mexican Revolution. All these men were to die in the next ten years as the new rules were sorted out and a second constitution adopted in 1917. It wasn’t until 1934 that Mexico got its “Honest Abe” in the election of Lazaro Cardenas who gave Mexico a chance to get back on her feet. Cardenas brought back organized labor and instituted land reform. He also did an amazing thing - he stepped down after his official six year term had ended - a tradition that continues to this day.

Mexico’s long lasting political party, PRI, began in 1929. Until 2000, it almost singlehandedly directed politics across Mexico. However, Vicente Fox broke the mode of sitting presidents selecting the next presidential candidate. He was elected in 2000 from the PAN (National Action Party) as was Felipe Calderon in 2010. Today, Mexico is a fully functioning democracy with three viable political parties.

In the evening of September 15th, President Calderon rang a bell, waived the Mexican flag, and shouted out “Viva Mexico” for the 200th time since the original “Grito de Dolores”. He presides over a very different country today. Newsweek recently selected Mexico as the 5th best place to live in the world among large countries. It notes the extensive young workforce, strong educational system, and generous infusion of monies from outside Mexico continue to make this an inviting place to reside. Its biggest PR problem is the perception abroad of a criminal state which prevents tourists and businesses from coming to Mexico. But for now, we should be happy for our neighbor’s dual celebrations. It’s been a hard road to travel.

An Authentic Indian Wedding in Garland,Texas

2010-09-11T14:13:00.000-07:00

India is a long way from Paris - a minimum of two flights, often more, and 36 hours of traveling. One doesn’t go to India for a week-end. But wouldn’t it be nice to just travel to Dallas and “be there”. We did just that recently at the wedding of our son’s friend, Amit Agarwal.

Amit’s father, Mahesh Agarwal, moved to Paris in 1978 to work as a hospital medical lab tech. He returned to India in 1979 and brought back his happy and outgoing wife, Usha. Both their children, Sonika and Amit, were born at McCuistion hospital and educated in the Paris school district. (Sonika is general manager of La Quinta Inn in Sherman and Amit is a physician.) With the help of a temple in Dallas, the children were raised Hindu but had many Christian friends. It all seemed normal to them.

Amit’s fiancé, Nima Patel, is also a physician but she was born and raised in the Indian community of Garland, Texas. In her childhood, Nima was surrounded by other children whose parents had immigrated to America. As one friend noted, Nima could go to any of her neighbors homes and borrow ghee, a clarified butter used in Indian cookery. It all seemed normal to Nima.

When Amit and Nima married, the wedding festivities recreated the feel of an Indian wedding even though it was held at the special events center in Garland. Unfortunately, we missed the Friday festivities with the traditional line dancing. But we arrived bright and early on Saturday morning, ready for the scheduled 9 a.m. wedding ceremony. No one had told us about Indian Standard Time (IST). It should have been obvious from the small crowd that 9 o’clock was only an approximate time.

The groom, his family and friends approached the center from the hotel across the street. In our Garland setting, the hotel and special events center represented the groom’s and the bride’s homes respectively. Gratefully, an Indian guest advised us that if we were with the groom, we should be walking with his family. We crossed the parking lot and joined the dancing Agarwals.

The group followed a white pick-up that pumped out Indian music as a lone drummer hammered out the beat with gusto. Dressed in a safa, a traditional red turban, and red and gold wedding attire, Amit rode a white horse covered in brocade. He was shaded with a red cloth umbrella held by a follower. Most of the women were dressed in their sparkling saris and the men, including Amit’s Paris friends, wore the traditional kurta pajamas. Because of the continuous dancing, it took the procession an hour to cross the parking lot to the entry of the civic center.

The bride’s family and friends were there to greet us and Nima and Amit were soon lifted high to receive flower garlands. The crowd entered the ceremonial room where a stage held the thrones for the bridal couple and chairs for family members. It was a casual time as we waited and visited with Rashmi Patel, a former resident of Paris. At the correct spiritual moment, the ceremony began with the bride’s ten attendants entering individually, holding a single flower, and wearing identical saris.

The bride’s maternal uncle (known as the mama) escorted her as she was carried in by family friends on a palki or holy carriage. A Brahmin priest conducted the Hindu Wedding Ceremony in Sanskrit. Few Indians understand this ancient language but all are familiar with the process.

The program guided us as the bride was accepted into the groom’s family and both received blessings of the gods and families. Since the service took some time, pistachio and rose petal ice cream were served to guests around 11 a.m. As the newlyweds received more blessings and gifts, we were directed to the next room for a light, vegetarian meal. We visited with an Indian guest who explained the use of the matchmaker in India whose emphasis is on uniting two families rather than just the couple. Finally, our bride and groom returned to the hotel in a horse drawn carriage where the groom’s family welcomed them with more gifts.

The evening dinner event was much less traditional and had many more attending. At least 600 guests listened to friends of the bride and groom tell stories. (In India, a wedding could have 4,000 guests.) Amit took some gentle kidding about his country accent but there was also admiration for his having experienced a more traditional American childhood in Paris. Nima’s ten attendants were all Indian friends. Amit’s friends were an incredible blend of small town Texas who had accepted him into their fold. I felt proud of our community and its openness to the children of a very different culture.

The dancing continued that evening with music from the Punjab region - the favorite in all of India because of its strong beat. (Think Bollywood.) Usha was the star dancer. Thanks to our Paris friends, Chris and Swati Prakesh, we learned to rythmically lift our shoulders while holding our arms in a U shape. Joe and Agnes Xavier also joined the dance floor movements. My shoulders were sore the next day!

I’ve never been to India. But for one special day, I experienced its ambiance, heard its language, ate its food, moved to its beat. And I was reminded again that the joy of a wedding is universal, to be celebrated in whatever form it takes.

Cooking Class in San Miguel de Allende - Taking the Fear out of Dried Chile Peppers

2010-07-29T13:26:00.000-07:00

The truth is this - I’ve always ignored recipes that required dried chile peppers. The dusty, shriveled chiles in the supermarket appeared old and tough. Apparently, water would revive them but I never tried. Enter Marilau Ricaud, mistress of Mexican Ancestry Cooking School in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, who promised to take the fear out of dried and fresh chiles . We signed on to learn the basics of Mexican salsas. Please note that this translates into sauces and not the chunky salsas we use for toppings or dips.

Marilau is proud of the contributions that Mexican ingredients have made to the world’s cuisine. Until the Spanish explorers returned from Mexico to Europe, there was no tomato sauce in Italy, no Swiss chocolates, and no green bell peppers (which are really poblano peppers grown in European soil). But it is the native chile peppers that have most influenced the world through traditional Mexican cooking.

Fortunately, the mysteries of dried and fresh peppers resolved as the lesson progressed. Marilau shared some basic Mexican recipes which were cooked according to prehispanic techniques. She also included two that had been handed down in her family. One of her grandfathers was French and a baker and the other hunted and cooked wild game. Marilau had been immersed in food since infancy.

At the beginning of the morning, we took notes of the rules of chile pepper salsas before starting to cook.

Never make a salsa with two different kinds of fresh peppers.
Never make a salsa with fresh and dried chiles together
You can mix dried chiles in a salsa.

Most recipes were amazingly simple with all having only 6 to 10 ingredients. The dried chiles’ oils had to be developed by toasting on a comal or flat griddle on top of the stove until the chile’s odor was released - less than two minutes. It is then soaked in warm water or other liquid before mixing with the remainder of the ingredients. After years of unnecessary angst, dried chile peppers’ mysteries were revealed.

A blender was essential as all ingredients were tossed together at some point of the process. Having only cooked Tex-Mex, I was surprised at the variety of flavors used. - whole cloves, cinnamon stick, marjoram, and thyme. Liquids included chicken broth, orange juice, and cider vinegar. Mexican sour cream had to be used as the American kind would curdle. (BTW, Mexican sour cream is available at our Wal-Mart.) And Mexican manchego also differed from ours with Gouda a viable substitute.

Marilau continued to educate us as the lesson progressed. Mexicans don’t flavor with fat. The main purpose of a chile is to spice the dish and weather and soil can affect the heat You can always add heat but never cut it. Since much of the heat of a chile pepper is in the seeds, it’s best to remove those before cooking. The discussion reminded me of the challenge our local Campbell Soup has in making a consistent Pace Picante Sauce or Salsa. They have to buy “heatless” jalapenos in order to tone down the spice.

At the end of the morning session, there were a few more instructions.

Dried chiles can’t be overcooked.
Dried chiles thicken the sauce

Never cook with olive oil
Never serve with wine - The Spanish forbade the production of grapes and olive trees because they wanted to protect their monopoly for the home country. Consequently, traditional Mexican recipes and meals don’t use these ingredients. Her suggestion - serve with beer.

We got to sample the six distinctive salsas made that morning with more directions on when to use each. The Salsa de Chile Ancho was the most versatile as it’s the familiar red sauce topping for enchiladas, chilequiles, meat, rice or even fried eggs. But the Salsa Morena reigned for pork, duck, chicken, turkey or brisquet.

Fortunately, I’ve been able to find most of the required peppers in Paris although the dried, smoky chipotle peppers were purchased at Central Market in Austin. I’m grateful to Marilau for opening up a whole new world of ingredients. She has permitted me to post one of her easiest fresh pepper recipes on my web-site - www.thetravelinggene.com - which I hope you’ll try. For the dried pepper dishes, you’ll need to be brave or take her lessons.

SALSA VERDE

3/4 lb tomatillos - be sure to take paper husk off first
1 thin slice of white onion
1-2 serrano chiles
1 bunch of cilantro (8 stems)
Salt to Taste
1 to 1/2 cup chicken broth
1 TBS vegetable oil or lard

Put all ingredients in blender except the oil. Blend until pureed.
Heat the oil and add the pureed ingredients. Cook salsa for 15 minutes.

This sauce is good for everything in Mexico! It can also be used for a soup by adding vegetables and/or chicken and more broth.

San Antonio de Padua - How an Italian Saint Joined us in the Streets of Guanajuato, Mexico

2010-07-06T11:03:00.001-07:00

We were happy to be there - a girls trip with Paris friends. We rented a three bedroom house with a rooftop terrace for $500 a week near the central market of Guanajuato, Mexico. The weather was almost perfect with warm days and cool evenings. The city has been designated a World Heritage site because of its lovely colonial architecture dating from when Guanajuato produced one-third of the world’s silver. Thanks to the diversion of most traffic below the city, many plazas, streets, and callejons (paved pathways) were without vehicles - perfect for strolling.

Our itinerary was unexpectedly altered at 6 a.m. on Saturday, June 12th. Loud firecrackers booms are often heard here in the morning to celebrate birthdays. But at this dawn, a volley of explosions saluted the day, followed by the sounds of an advancing band down the small, steep callejon in front of our house. Close behind, religious banners, singers, and contrite parishioners paraded down the mountain, filling the street directly below our balconies.

It was the saint’s day for the near-by San Antonio de Padua chapel. San Antonio is a beloved saint across the continents. Portuguese by birth, he joined the Franciscan monks in Italy where his powers of preaching were recognized by his title “Evangelical Doctor”. Our own San Antonio, Texas was named in his honor and Italy claims him as their patron saint. (As we age, we should call upon him often as he is also the patron saint of lost things.) He died on June 13, 1231, a date that was now being celebrated in our hood in Guanajuato 779 years later.

A room on the street had been converted into a small chapel where mass was celebrated over loud speakers. Then the festivities began with large pots of soup and tamales offering free fare to any who asked.

Neighbors gathered and visited. They smiled at us as the only gringos on the street. We danced with an old, tilted woman who smiled sweetly at her four partners. Another lovely woman answered our questions and encouraged us to participate throughout the next two days of celebrations.

After an afternoon siesta, we opened our front door and stepped into a street filled with Chichimeca Indian dancers - replete with feathers, body paint and ankle bands of nuts from the Ayoyote tree. It took our breath away. Guanajuato was originally inhabited by one of the nomadic Chichimeca tribes who maintained a fierce resistance against the Spaniards for longer than most.
They were primitive, painted their bodies, and ate only game, roots and berries. Most have been assimilated although a sliver of the population (.26%) can still speak the indigenous language. Many of their descendants were joined by other tribes in Mexico to provide authentic dress and dance for San Antonio’s day.

I talked to Rosa Maria Hernandez Maya, a 65 years old Indigenous woman, who had been dancing since she was five. Her father started the dance group in Mexico City and they still travel throughout Mexico for performances. Ironically, we were told the shields used by the dancers were to protect the indigenous people from the religion of the conquerors and a common name for the nuts used in the dancers’ ankle bands is hueseros de friar or friar’s bones. Neither sounded welcoming to the new faith nor the present celebration.

On the opposite end of the street, a popular morality play was being performed. Actors dressed as the devil, young maiden, prostitute, drunk, farmer, cowboy and others battled with a bull character. Children laughed as the bull attacked the drunk or when the cowboy lashed his whip. We were helped with the drama’s meaning by Mariano, a native who currently works in Alabama, but who returns to Guanajuato every year for this festival. He explained that in the end, all characters die except death itself - represented by the devil.

The next morning, the festival was taken out into the streets of Guanajuato with a parade to the Templo de la Compania de Jesus where another mass was to be celebrated. More Indian dancers had arrived from different tribes. Members of the San Antonio chapel participated. Women in white dresses carried the statue of the baby Jesus, men in white and black supported the statute of San Antonio de Padua, and individuals proudly displayed banners and small statutes.

They were joined by a band or two and 12 different drum and bugle corps composed of fathers and young sons. It was all quite colorful and loud.

That afternoon and evening were too crowed for us and we explored other parts of the city. The next morning was blessedly quiet with no awakening booms. Streets were clean and people returned to a normal morning’s work.

No guide books mention this festival and few tourists were present. While not community wide, the celebration was large by neighborhood standards. And for us temporary neighbors, it was a magical festival - one of those unanticipated experiences that travelers dream about - a merging of the past and present, the sacred and savage, the young and old.

Watching the World Cup with the World

2010-06-30T06:24:00.000-07:00

It is the world’s biggest sports event - viewed by hundreds of millions around the world every four years. The Super Bowl doesn’t come close. World Cup play means the Dallas Morning News has real soccer coverage. It’s also the best opportunity to meet other soccer lovers in bars around the world.

The World Cup only began in 1930 when Jules Rimet, president of the French Football League, pushed for an international event that would not discriminate on the grounds of professional or amateur status. He even went so far as to hope that “football (our soccer) could reinforce the ideals of a permanent and real peace.” Only 13 teams participated in the first tournament held in Uruguay and, surprisingly, the United States was one of them. Because of a heavily weighted Scottish roster, we made it to the semi-finals. Host Uruguay beat neighbor Argentina 4-2 for the first championship.

The series took a break for the war years between 1938 and 1950. After a 40 year drought, the USA finally made an appearance in 1994. Each year more teams have vied to qualify - 53 teams in 1966, 113 teams in 1986 and 204 teams in 2010. But even as the competition has become harder, the American team has been able to qualify except for 1998. It helps that half of our players now belong to the more competitive teams outside the U.S.

I love the World Cup and have since our children started playing Kiwanas soccer. I was up at 4 a.m several mornings in 1990 to watch the USA lose all three of their matches in Italy. America hosted in 1994 and we had tickets to three games in Dallas. The Nigeria vs. Bulgaria game had no favorites but the constant pounding of drums by the Nigerian fans was a welcome relief from the usual air horns.

By winning a lottery, we got to watch a quarter-final game with Brazil and the Netherlands - largely considered the true world cup final game between the two strongest teams that year. It was a high scoring (3-2) event in which Brazil pulled out the win at the end. Fans were painted head to toe as the very international crowd took hold.. We cheered every time either team scored. Later that day, in the Galleria shopping center, we heard fans singing “Ole, Ole, Ole, Brazil, Brazil’ to be answered by other fans “Ole, Ole, Ole, USA, USA”.

For the final game in 1994, we were traveling in Yellowstone National Park. Unbelievably, there were no televisions in our room or hotel that carried the game. After many inquiries, the hotel staff directed us to a bar in the far northern part of the park that had satellite television service. We joined an international crowd evenly divided between supporters of the Brazilian and Italian teams as was our family. No particular language is required to watch a soccer game and all were cheering at appropriate times for their team.

France hosted 1998 and the USA didn’t quality. A twelve year plan was put into place to make America competitive by 2010. In the 2002 games hosted by Japan and Korea, the USA actually made it to the quarterfinals before losing to Germany 1-0. Those games also required early rising to view.

2006 games were another disappointment for American fans. I was studying Spanish in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala that summer and searched for a bar to watch the USA play. It was a morning game and I drank coffee and grimaced as Ghana beat the Americans. The other Guatemalan fans just shook their heads.

This year has been more promising. 2010's first game was between Mexico and South Africa. The play began as some friends and I were taking a cooking lesson in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Like Christmas morning, the entire town was shut down - no cars on the streets and few pedestrians. Our instructor couldn’t remember a time of such quietness on the streets. Through the open windows, we heard the familiar “gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooal” when South Africa scored and later rousing cheers as Mexico evened the score.

The next day, we gathered in Guanajuato, Mexico, at La Botalleta bar with other tourists, ex-pats, and students to watch the U.S. challenge England. The crowd was heavily pro-American but a few cheered on the Brits. As one Mexican cab drive told me, Mexico will cheer for any country in the Americas - North or South - as long as they’re not playing Mexico. We tied and were happy for it.

As I write this, USA is playing Algeria and it’s been a frustrating game with lots of shots on goal, a goal called back, and no score by either team. I can hardly watch. Whoa, excuse me, Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooal by USA at the 91st minute! Now, how can that not be exciting? But watching a game in the privacy of you own home is just not the same as in a foreign bar surrounded by like-minded fans. America’s fans still have some catching up to do. As the American team progresses and improves, maybe we can convince Buffalo Joe’s to open up on July 11th for the finals. It’s really the only way to do it.

Johnson’s Honey Bees - Seasoned Travelers

2010-06-17T12:47:00.000-07:00

Boy, those bees get around. We think only humans travel for work but the honey bees can match many of us mile for mile. And few bee hives travel as far as those owned by the Lamar County business of Johnson’s Bee and Honey.

Randy Johnson has been in the apiary business since 1961 - almost 50 years. He and his son, Chad, are the only employees in an enterprise that makes between 150 to 200 barrels of honey a year. Since a barrel equals 650 pounds, this “small operation” produces over 60 tons of the nectar of the gods. It takes all of their 1500 hives and 75 million bees to accomplish this.

With its own wings, a worker honeybee will daily travel approximately three miles from its hive at a pretty decent speed of 15 miles per hour. Since an individual worker only lives six weeks, she covers about 125 miles creating 1/12 teaspoon of honey in her lifetime. Obviously, many bees are needed to meet the goal of 60 tons of honey.

Enter the queen bee whose sole job is to lay eggs - and not just a few eggs at a time. Her royal highness is expected to produce 1000 to 1500 eggs per day. Now, that’s real multiple births. Mr. Johnson only keeps his queen bees for two years as they, understandably, “get tired”. He buys his queens from a California company that grafts from a good stock. After the queen is purchased, she is shipped UPS overnight from California to Texas where she’s placed in an existing hive.

Mr. Johnson’s bees have spring, summer, and winter homes. Bees produce the most honey in the late spring and summer. They use the sugar product to store up food for the winter. But by June, excess honey exists and the harvest begins. In the spring, most of their hives are placed around the Mt. Pleasant and Daingerfield area. Some remain in Lamar County where the hairy vetch, a flowering legume, provides the ingredients for production of white honey. In June, half of the bees are loaded on semi-trucks and sent to South Dakota where they feast on the nectar of yellow clover and alfalfa. Johnson’s beautiful golden honey is a mixture of the South Dakota and East Texas products.

There is a respite for the bees and the Johnsons in late fall. But in January, half of the hives are again loaded on semis and sent to California to pollinate the almond crop. Fifty to sixty semi-loads are needed for the large number of almond orchards and three-fourths of the bees are leased, including the Johnson’s bees. Back they come in March where the hives are again placed around East Texas.

All of Johnson’s honey is processed in Lamar County and placed in containers, ranging from a small bear shaped plastic dispenser to gallons sized for professional use and/or large families. Recently, the business expanded into cream honey - a whipped honey that can be flavored with cinnamon, apple, strawberry, etc. Chad has built the folksy display cabinets that can be seen in many Paris locations and within their 100 mile service area. They also sell heavily to the Save-A-Lot grocery store chain in Oklahoma.

Mr. Johnson is dismissive of the honey sold in most stores as it is not local. Labels for the large national companies confirm that much of the honey sold in the U.S. is from foreign countries with China (of course), Argentina , and Turkey being the largest contributors. I’ve always believed in supporting local bees, especially since they are the only insects that produce a food humans will eat.

The honey industry makes good use of our highways. Within a year , the queen bees cover about 8500 miles. Their chariots are the net covered semis that escort the royalty and her entourage across the Rockies to California and over the Midwest to South Dakota and back again. By traveling so much, they create a wonderful honey that supports our local economy and our health.

Johnson Honey & Bee Co., 200 County road 43360, Paris, Texas 75462. 903.785.6081

Shopping in Hong Kong with a Pro

2010-05-28T14:27:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong residents are some of the world’s best shoppers. They, of course, observe the Chinese New Year’s but have also adopted Valentine’s Day and Christmas as additional opportunities to buy presents. The world’s products are easily available and at good prices. But how can a visitor take full advantage of these offerings? Enter Alicia Daigle, a former resident of Paris.

An Oklahoma native, Alicia lived in Seoul for five years and Hong Kong for four. One bedroom of their apartment stored the many bargains she found in her time in Asia. I knew I was in the hands of a shopping master in our early e-mail contact. She quickly displayed her knowledge of “vendors” as in “I have a purse lady”, a “lady at the Jade Market” and a “fabric guy, too”. At Yuet Tung, you can design your own dinnerware and have it hand painted and shipped. You must go to Shanghai Tang - “expensive but fabulous”. Every e-mail had a new suggestion.

We set up a shopping day which came with a set of instructions from Alicia, all of which proved helpful.

1. “It takes time.” Starting at 9 a.m. with a long metro ride to Yuet Tung, we arrived at a porcelain warehouse of gigantic proportions. Down many aisles were hand painted dishes stacked to the ceiling. As Alicia noted, there was no apparent inventory control. A large purse could do some damage here. It was tempting to order a set of hand painted dishes, especially after seeing the prices and the painting apparatus. This is becoming a lost art. But they couldn’t assure me that the set would be microwavable - a requirement in our household.

2. “Your hands will get dirty. Bring wet ones and tissue.” Bathrooms were precious commodities and wet ones saved us from the dust of many products.

3. “Bring water and snack bars/crackers.” It was going to be a full day and we would not have time for lunch. We stopped, briefly, at a bakery for bread to go. Otherwise, it was full speed ahead with only snacks on the metro.

4. “Wear comfortable shoes.” As we slowly passed through the beautiful flower and bird markets, we were glad to be in our ugly, black walking shoes. The birds noisily visited with each other. Owners bring their birds back to the avarian market on a regular basis to mingle with their own. Of course, the owners also visit. If only we had had more luggage, I would be the proud owner of an exquisite bamboo bird cage.

5. “The Jade Market has reasonable prices.” Alicia’s lady at the Jade Market was a find. Her specialty was “slightly chunky to very chunky with an Asian flair”. All of us bought necklaces, tassels, and key chains in that style. Considering the prices, we weren’t sure all purchases were really jade but we could truthfully say we had bought them at the Jade Market. It was up to our friends and family to inquire more if they really wanted to know.

Last stop was at Om International, a pearl store that can’t be beat for quality and price. The experience included just finding the showroom. Located on a side street in Kowloon, across from Hong Kong island, an overhead sign on the sidewalk pointed us into a stairway. One floor up was a steel door. We rang the bell and a small window behind bars opened to a slight, bespectacled woman. Since we didn’t look threatening, she allowed us to enter a lovely, small showroom with displays of beautiful pearls. There was no way we could leave without a purchase (or two).

So ended one of the most intense shopping days I’ve experienced. We rode on five different metro trains, shopped the enormous and the intimate, observed the Chinese spoiling their birds and buying buckets of flowers, took advantage of the famous Chinese jade and bought pearls with a story to match. We couldn’t have done it without our pro. Alicia monitored our time and steered us down the right streets and hallways. She knew quality and prices. She would tell us that “they’re giving it away” if we hesitated about buying. And she was right every time. In fact, our only regret is that we didn’t buy more.

Yuet Tung Call for directions. http://www.porcelainware.com.hk/

Shanghai Tang - Pedder Building (built 1924) on Pedder Street between Queen's Road Central and Des Voeux Road. This is dead center of the central business district on Hong Kong Island.

Jade Market - MTR Red Line to Tsuen Wan. Get off at Yau Ma Tei Station - Exit C. You will be facing Nathan Road - turn right and walk several blocks to Public Square Street. Turn right on Public Square street, walk one block to the temple which will be on your left. It is worth it to walk into the temple and also to check all the guys playing Go on the temple grounds. Shanghai Street runs in front of the temple. Cross Shanghai Street. You should be facing a large cream colored building - Yau Ma Tei Community Center. Turn left on Shanghai Street in front of the YMT Community Center. Walk about one block, turn right and walk between the small playground with the turquoise blue fence and the YMT Community Center. The Jade Market will be right in front of you. It is an unassuming red, blue and green building.
Eva Ho's stall is #308. She does not bargain much - maybe 10% depending on how good or bad business is at that time.

Om International - # 6 Carnarvon Road, Friends House, First Floor, Suite A3.
MTR Red Line 1 or Line 2 to Tsuen Wan. Get off at Tism Sha Tsui (most folks just call it TST because it is difficult to pronounce) Station - Carnarvon Road D2 Exit. As you exit, just look straight ahead and OM is across the street on the left about half a block from the D2 exit. You can see their sign as you step onto the street. Remember it is on the first floor which is our second floor. Their first floor is the ground floor. This is not on HK Island it is on the Kowloon side. www.ompearls.com

Flower Market - MTR Red Line 1 or Line 2 to Tsuen Wan. Get off at Prince Edward Station - Exit B1. You will be at the corner of Nathan Road and Prince Edward Road, West. Turn left on PERW. If you are going the right direction, the Mong Kok Police Station will be on your left and an elevated road on your right. Walk about three or four blocks to Sai Yee Street. This is where the Flower Market starts. Turn left on Sai Yee and walk one block to Flower Market Road. Right on Flower Market Road. You can just continue down PERW and come back up FMR.

Bird Market - Most people call it the Bird Market but the correct name is Yuen Po Bird Garden. It is at the end of FMR at Yuen Po Street - far left back corner of the Flower Market if you are walking down FMR to Yeun Po Street.

New Zealand's Passion for Coffee

2010-05-15T07:46:00.000-07:00

New Zealand is a former British Colony that only separated from the mother country in 1926. The English brought their church, language, left side driving, and tea sipping to this beautiful place. Tearooms dominated the hot drink culture until the arrival of American soldiers and European refugees during World War II when coffee was introduced. Unfortunately, instant coffee ruled until about 30 years ago when the Kiwis decided to get serious about their caffeine. They not only embraced freshly roasted and ground coffee, cappuccinos, and lattes, they also created their own variations. Today, good coffee is available from the largest cities to the smallest hamlets.

My husband and I knew it was serious coffee territory upon arriving at our first hotel. The coffee maker was a French Press - a far cry from the usual Mr. Coffee. The hotel provided a small carton of milk upon check-in. A hot water pot made it easy to prepare fresh, strong coffee in the morning. This pattern continued with almost all of our hotels.

The nicest surprise was the discovery of the Flat White, Long Black, and Short Black - not the most romantic of names but quite descriptive. These drinks are available in Australia and New Zealand and both countries claim their origin. They are the Kiwis’ own variations of the cappuccino, espresso, and Americano.

The Flat White is the most popular coffee drink “down under.” It is made with one shot of espresso in Australia and two in New Zealand. Milk is steamed enough to generate wet microfoam - that wonderful, creamy topping to a good cappuccino. The milk is poured from the bottom of the pitcher into a petite tulip cup followed by a small layer of microfoam. It has less milk than a latte, less foam than a cappuccino and is strong but not uncomfortably so. I loved it immediately.

A Long Black reverses the preparation of an Americano. Water is steamed and poured into the coffee cup. Two shots of espresso are then poured over the water, thus preserving the “crema” or foam. If you must have dairy, a very small pitcher of steamed milk will be served to the side. The Short Black is really a South Pacific name for a shot of espresso. These drinks so dominate New Zealand that the local Starbucks and McDonalds have added them to their menu.

It’s hard to describe the importance of coffee in New Zealand. Every small town has at least one coffee house and often more. With no significant local coffee chains, most coffee places are individually owned and operated. Full of Beans, Express Yourself, The Grind, Coffee Break, Divan Coffee name some of the smaller coffee shops. New Zealand’s barristas have placed in the top ten at the world’s barrista competition since 2002. And for the visiting coffee lovers, a web site, Zest, offers a guide to the top cafes and an explanation of New Zealand coffee terminology.

Kiwis are happy to talk about coffee. My van driver to Akaroa on the South Island discovered fresh ground coffee through a boyfriend’s influence and was quite aware of the difference a good barrista can make in the preparation of drinks. She even knew low fat milk frothed as well as or better than that of whole milk. During a phone inquiry, the owner of a kayaking operation in Okaria, a tiny spot on the Tasman Sea, boasted of his kayaks and great coffee. He was right on both counts. And in Nelson, an artist first shared valuable information on the history of coffee houses in New Zealand and the location of the best coffee roasters before he talked about his art.

Coffee is promoted even outside traditional coffee houses. A sign advertising ‘Trudy’s Bar On the Beach’ in Akaroa touted the following - “Fantastic View - Great Coffee.” Only in New Zealand would a waterfront bar boast of coffee rather than its alcoholic drinks. At Kudos Food Design, a catering company in Nelson, their portable advertising sign stated “Yes, we do catering. But... we also do great coffee to go.”

As with any novel drink, the Flat White and its cousins have circled the globe and are now available in Great Britain where many Kiwis and Aussies ex-pats live. In fact, Britons themselves are discovering the new coffee variations. The English company Costa Coffee reports a 9.5% increase in sales since the recent introduction of the Flat White. New York also now has a few coffee houses which can supply their local Antipodeans. Hopefully, it won’t be long before we all will have these new wonderful coffee options - without the need of fifteen hours of flying time.

Lennox Woods and the Shortleaf Pine Tree - A Peak at Forests Of The Past

2010-05-03T12:24:00.000-07:00

In the late 1800's, the ancestors of Martha, David, and Bagby Lennox purchased 353 acres north of Clarksville, Red River County, Texas. Whether the early members of the Lennox family were pioneer environmentalists or just enjoyed picnicking on their land, this acreage was never completely harvested. Only dead trees were allowed to be cleared. The result is a treasure - one of the most pristine, old-growth forests in the state. It was donated by the Lennox family and their foundation to The Nature Conservancy and is available for public enjoyment.

Thanks to its location on the 613,000 acre Pecan Bayou, the largest undammed watershed in Northeast Texas, Lennox Woods has sufficient water resources to support its 51 tree species, 15 types of vines, 93 wildflower species, 39 species of grasses and sedeges, 9 of shrubs and 10 of moss and fern. Birds such as the pileated woodpecker and various warblers travel through. The rare and very shy timber rattlesnake hides in the woods’ nooks and crannies

Botanists are easily distracted here. Many come just to see the shortleaf pine trees, considered the gold standard for the state, with some being over 100 years old. The far more common loblolly pine is grown on nearby tree plantations and likes to invade the Lennox Woods. Because of two recent, severe ice storms, much of the canopy of the woods was lost, allowing the loblolly an entry point. Recently, the Conservancy used “prescribed burning” to muscle out the loblolly trees who don’t survive even a low temperature fire. Natural, shortleaf pine are unaffected by the elevated temperature and are returning in mass.

You don’t have to be able to recognize a Lady Slipper Orchid or a white oak to enjoy the woods. The Martha Lennox Memorial Nature Trail is a mile and a half loop that takes you under trees and over logs and from low, wetlands to highlands. This is actually only a change of 30 feet in elevation but it’s enough to shake up the plant life. As Nature Conservancy employee Jim Edson noted on a recent tour, “The soil’s the thing.” The soil dictates what plants it will support which tells you what animals will live there. Local Master Naturalists have provided markers naming various plants and trees. For visual learners, there’s even a picture of the identified plant.

Keep your eyes alert for Pimple Mounds, raised swells along the trail. Some have surmised these to be former Native American encampments. But the real story comes from the end of the Ice Age when the desert plains arrived, shrub communities developed, thickets created the mounds and eventually, the forests returned. The 5000 year old mounds are a compact history of soil development.

As we stood on the trail looking at an opened forest with sunlight streaming in, Jim Eidson smiled in great satisfaction. “We’re at the beginning of a cycle”, he informed us. If the Conservancy’s efforts are successful, more grasses and wildflowers will grow in the lit woods among more widely spaced native trees. The Lennox family would still be right at home here as would the early settlers. It’s certainly worth the drive to peak at our state’s forest past.

Directions: The Lennox Woods is not the easiest to find. Go North of Clarksville on Highway 37 to FM 2118. Take a left on FM 2118 and travel west for 1.6 miles. On your left is a sign for Mt. Pleasant Missionary Baptist Church. Turn left on this road and go approximately 1 mile. The sign for the Lennox Woods will be on your left and a small amount of parking is available.

Nature Conservancy site on Lennox Woods http://www.nature.org/wherewework/northamerica/states/texas/preserves/art25159.html

Bluebridge Ferry - the 1,000,000th booking

2010-04-21T18:25:00.000-07:00

I have long said that the worst travel experiences make the best stories. But there are occasional good travel events that also are fun to relate. One such happening occurred recently on a ferry crossing the Cook Strait from Picton, New Zealand to its capital, Wellington.

We arrived at the terminal of the Blue Bridge Ferry about 45 minutes before the scheduled departure at 7 p.m. The employee at the check-in counter seemed very glad to see us and asked, “didn’t you check your e-mail?” We first feared that the crossing had been cancelled. But she quickly assured us that the correspondence concerned something really exciting. We were the one millionth booking for the ferry and they wanted to celebrate. The Company refunded the cost of our ticket and we were to be their guests for the three and one-half hour crossing.

First, a picture was taken of some of the employees and us to be used in their media. A van carried the two of us to the ship where we were escorted by “Lorna” up the elevator to the café. We were told we could order anything. Both my fish and chips (served with mayonnaise on top of the fish and sweet ketchup for the fries) and my husband’s chicken salad were basic but good. Drivers from the trucks below were already dining and other passengers soon joined us.

Lorna then offered to take us to the bar. We hesitated. It would be nice to relax and have a beer or glass of New Zealand wine but we knew the Cook Strait could be one of the world’s roughest stretches of water. It is the only opening between the North and South Islands and acts as a huge wind tunnel. Ships have been known to sink in the high swells. Lorna laughed. She said we were lucky. The wind was from the north that night which meant smooth sailing. A southerly wind is another story. A week after our crossing, all ferries were shut down because of “wild weather conditions” including a strong southerly air stream.

Reassured, we followed Lorna to the bar/lounge area which was quite comfortable with windows on three sides and an opening onto a large deck. Surmodh, our bartender from India, served the drinks and threw in a free Cadbury chocolate bar. He noted it was a quiet night with only 45 passengers and 30 truck drivers. I saw him dim the lights for some people trying to sleep. A Kiwi truck driver approached us and joined in the conversation. He had driven trucks through Oklahoma, Nebraska and Iowa and wanted to talk about the Obama Health Care bill which had received a lot of press in New Zealand.

After we had sailed through the Marlborough Sound into the strait, Lorna led us to the bridge to meet Captain Donald McCloud, a veteran of sailing in the South Pacific. We passed state rooms for the First Mate, Second Mate, First Engineer, and Second Engineer, before stepping into the darkened bridge. Only the soft lights of the radar and GPS system were on but a full moon lit the sea ahead. One sailor used binoculars to watch for fishing boats without lights. The season for Hoki fish was approaching and more fishermen would be out.

Captain McCloud pointed out the mounds on the radar which outlined the North Island and explained that their GPS system benefitted from the same satellite as the one used in cars. An engineer below was running the boat although they could do it all from the bridge, if needed. To our left were cables, 300 meters under water, that carried electricity between islands. And in answer to our questions about a rough sea, he said they would stop passenger ships at four meter swells (12 feet) but he had been on ships in 14 meter (42 feet) swells. Yikes.

At the end of our visit to the bridge, Captain McCloud gave us a dark blue Bluebridge travel bag filled with Bluebridge memorabilia. We are now the proud owners of two Bluebridge t-shirts, two Bluebridge hats, two Bluebridge tea towels and water bottles, and Bluebridge playing cards and chapstick.

Bluebridge is owned by Strait Shipping that has provided freight shipping for years. But the passenger ferries only began service in 2003. Their competitor is the Interislander ship line. When I asked Lorna what distinguished Bluebridge from the Interislander, she quickly replied “good, friendly customer service”. It’s hard for me to judge that comment as few customers get free fare, meals, drinks, and a meeting with the Captain. But I do know the friendly part is right and we would book Bluebridge if we’re ever lucky enough to again cross the Cook Strait.

Bluebridge Ferry Information -

http://www.bluebridge.co.nz/

Ten Hidden Gems of Sulphur Springs, Texas

2010-04-13T09:06:00.000-07:00

An abundance of springs first attracted travelers to rest in the Sulphur Springs area. Today, Interstate 30 passes through the southern portion of this East Texas community and sports the usual national restaurants and hotels for the weary. But if visitors branched out, they would discover a surprisingly varied restaurant scene, some nice outdoor settings and unusual museums.

Main Street Eateries- Whether you’re hungry for an old fashioned hamburger or AHI tuna, just seared enough, the newly renovated Main Street area in downtown Sulphur Springs has you covered. (By the way, it’s also the setting for fun events through the year such as a farmers market every Saturday morning from March to October and a night time Christmas parade.)

1. Lou Viney Winery began with the owners making their own wine from locally grown grapes. Then owner/chef, Susann Briggs, discovered she enjoyed cooking for her clientele. Lunch and dinner are now available with daily specials and a nice wine list. The blackened talapia is the most popular dish with sweet brandy flat iron steak a close second. If you’re lucky enough to be there on a Friday night, enjoy the live music.
http://www.louviney.com/
206 Main Street 903.438.8320

2. Muddy Jake’s is a sports grille and pub named after the owner’s two dogs. Burgers and sandwiches are even served in dog bowls. With all sports channels available as well as 32 screens, including one in the bathrooms, sports aficionados are in heaven. The owner keeps the crowd happy with basketball shots and American Idol shows.
Find Muddy Jakes on facebook
229 Main Street 903.885.6833

3. Pioneer Café is the dream of Barbara Palmer, who retired after 38 years with the government to open her own restaurant in 2009. Whether it’s an omelette for breakfast or her famous Hopkins County Stew for lunch, patrons are guaranteed good home cooking. Authentic Texas memorabilia decorate the comfortable setting.
307 Main Street 903.885.7773

Eateries outside of downtown.

4. Ray’s Barbecue is a walk-up, no-frills BBQ joint which offers chopped beef sandwiches for just $2.60. The only question is whether you want it with or without onion. “Gravy Sop Juice” is extra. At noon, the diverse crowd circles the order window, awaiting their names to be called. “If you don’t want greasy, go elsewhere,” advised a fan who has been coming here for years. It’s a great stop for local color.
158 Putnam St. 903.885.8506

5. Locals claim that Burgers & Fries on College Street has the best burgers within 100 miles. The french fries are “real” and fresh, as are the burgers. Chili can be added to anything. At noon, the courthouse crowd mixes easily with those in boots and tennis shoes. Gimmie hats dominate. They do a brisk drive-through business also.
208 College St. 903.885.9496

6. The San Remos Italian Restaurant comes with a New Jersey- Italian owner (the Mala family) and opera singers on CD. It’s no surprise then to find an ambitious, authentic Italian menu that includes Polenta Gorgonzola and veal at market price. While open for lunch, the dark walls and dim lighting are more inviting in the evening.
1201 South Broadway 903.438.1243

Other Hidden Gems

7. Southwest Dairy Museum. In a county that once had over 500 dairies, the milk cow is a sacred creature with the Holstein being the reigning queen. It is no surprise then to find a dairy museum here dedicated to this important local industry. Filled with great information and trivia for the family, all ages will find something of interest. Children will be particularly happy to learn that there is no nutritional difference between white and chocolate milk.
http://www.southwestdairyfarmers.com/
1210 Houston St. 903.439.MILK

8. Coleman Park. What is an urban park doing in a small town setting? Well, thanks to the donation of 21.44 acres of land by Robert Lanier, coupled with 166 city-owned acres, Sulphur Springs can rightly boast of its own Central Park. Soccer fields nestle among groves of trees, the walking track borders a fishing lake, and picnic tables are available for eating and viewing baseball games. It’s well worth a leisurely stop.
http://www.sulphurspringstx.org/ColemanPark.htm

9. Hopkins County Courthouse (on the square). They don’t get any more beautiful than this courthouse built in 1895 of red granite and sandstone. With turrets and columned balconies, one expects the king to appear at any time to speak to his subjects. Instead, justice is meted out daily in a lovely setting. Feel free to explore and enjoy the district courtroom.

http://www.texasescapes.com/EastTexasTowns/Sulphur-Springs-Hopkins-County-Courthouse.htm

The Hopkins County Heritage Park began with the donation of the George H. Wilson home built in 1920 which houses historical collection and memorabilia from Caddo Indians to the Civil War. Over the years, historical buildings have been moved to the park, including an old general store with a Texaco pump, a mill, the 1894 St. Phillip’s Episcopal Church, and a Monument store. Special events, such as the folk art festival, are scheduled during the year but a drive-through visit is available anytime during its open hours.
http://www.hopkinscountymuseum.org/
416 North Jackson 903.885.2387

And if you have more time... Enjoy the Hopkins County Stew Cook-off in the fall or a performance at the local Community Players Theater (mainsttheater.com). A surprising world class collection of music boxes can be found at the public library.

Iguazu Falls - Visited and Revisited and Revisited

2010-03-18T12:20:00.000-07:00

Iguazu Falls is actually 275 waterfalls except in the rainy season when it expands to 350 falls. Eleanor Roosevelt is reported to have commented, “Poor Niagra” upon first viewing this natural wonder. Located in the far north of Argentina across from Brazil, Iguazu is four times the width of Niagra and has twice the water flow. If and when water gets tight, we should all hop on down there. The falls are also located on top of the Guarani , the largest underground fresh water reservoir in the world.. It is, literally, water, water everywhere.

Iguazu Falls is surrounded by jungle, nourished by the mist of the cascading waters. National Parks on both sides of the border have been strict in limiting development, preserving the “natural” part of the wonder. Commercial flights regularly land at nearby Puerto Iguazu airport dispensing visitors, most on tours. I was traveling with my cousin who lived in Buenos Aires. We checked into the Sheraton International Iguazu, the only hotel directly in the falls park. It provided easy paths down to the cascading waters and had a nice view of its spray. The constant roar kept us mindful of the falls’ presence.

Our first outing was to be a train ride along the edge of the falls, supplying the only access to the famous horseshoe portion of the falls. However, record rains had washed out the tracks. The only other way to see those falls was from the Brazilian side, requiring the purchase of an expensive visa in town and an all day excursion. Our options settled quickly on simply exploring the nearest falls both from above and below, via the Upper and Lower Circuits. Over the next two days, I walked both of these paths three times, with a very different experience for each.

The Upper Circuit stretches along the top of a set of falls for about ½ mile. Metal cat walks allow the flow of water to rush underfoot while promontories furnish a safer place to view. Soon after arrival, we eagerly reached the end of the upper trail for our first panoramic view of the Herman, Bosetti, Chico, Ramirez and San Martin Falls. Actually, there was little distinction in the individual falls because of the massive waters flowing over from the recent rains. Anyone who can’t watch an IMAX movie would be dizzy here.

After lunch, a second walk down the Lower Circuit took us closer to the falls where Great Dusky Swifts floated in and out and orchids clung to vines. Every turn revealed a new, powerful fall until we walked out at the end to look up at a panorama of water and mist. In normal times, a boat escorts you across the river to an island for a closer look. But that crossing had been also stopped by the excessive rain and flow of water. We did take a boat ride that took us as close to the cascading water as was safe. Watching the boat from the shore, it seemed to still be far from the heart of the falls. But in the boat, the spray of water from the falls alone drenched us all as if we were directly under the water. To return to port further down the river, the boat was simply put in neutral and rapidly whisked away.

My cousin was under the weather the next day and I tried both the Upper and Lower Circuits in the morning. The difference from the previous day was startling. I could hardly move because of the crowds. I had to push my way to the front of the look-outs as well as wait for people to pass across bridges. I kept looking for the weight limit signs on the catwalks. Photos were almost impossible to take without including a stranger’s head or hand.

At 4 p.m. that afternoon, I tried the Lower Circuit again and the trail was all mine. The crowds were gone. At the end of this trail, a metal walk extends to the spray of the nearest fall. I had watched others make that walk in swim suits and I wore mine to try it. I was alone as I eased out, holding tight to the rails. 2000 cubic yards of water per second were roaring past, ready to whisk away anything in its path. I was surprised how hard it was to force the final steps. At the end, the falls seemed close enough to touch but you couldn’t. The spray drenched me and the sound blocked all other thoughts.

On the solitary walk back up the trail, a herd of coatimundis, cousins to the raccon, obstructed the way. Several iguanas also eased by. The animals stay low when the crowds are out. Fortunately, that includes the snakes.

We were up at 6 a.m. the last morning to make our final pilgrimage along the Upper Circuit. Only the local birds joined us at that hour. Toucans and Motmots moved freely about. At the end of the trail, we simply stood over the fast moving falls and watched flocks of parakeets play. A parrot filled tree swayed nearby. On the mist covered island below, rainbows competed for attention. It was mystical and breathtaking and the view I carry in my head today.

We missed the train ride and the free boat ride. We missed the view of the horseshoe falls. We missed the walk to the Devil’s Throat falls. But our treks brought us much nearer to the heart of the falls where nature ignores the crowds and keeps on moving.

The Pyramids Fascinate Tourists for Thousands of Years

2010-02-21T07:14:00.001-08:00

The Giza Pyramids outside of Cairo have been a tourist destination for over 3,000 years. Let me repeat that. Three thousand years ago, tourists from ancient Greece and Rome had heard of and traveled to see this marvel. It is the only original Seven Wonders of the World that survives. By looking up at the tip of these structures, you join Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Mark Twain, William Thackeray, and millions of others who were stunned at the skill of workmanship and the effort needed to complete them. On the wall outside the Khafra pyramid, original hieroglyphics, or early day graffiti, revealed Ramses II had been there when he was Pharoah around 1300 BC. Writers from Herodotus in 449 B. C. to Amelia Edwards in the 1870s have tried to describe the significance of these tributes to the Pharoahs and their queens.

There have been dips and rises in the numbers who have come. It wasn’t a good time to visit in 969 when the Tunisian Fatimids marched 100,000 soldiers over the desert to take Cairo or in 1258 when the Mongols invaded Egypt. But tourism picked up in the 1800's. Ancient Egypt was all the craze in Europe and camels were required, not just for photo ops but to ferry hoards of Englishmen to the site. Women, in their fine dresses and hats, insisted on viewing the pyramids up close and even on top.

As thousands year old graves were discovered filled with gold bejeweled masks and other finery, the frenzy continued. Despite occasional tourists attacks even in our time, tourism is by far the number one industry in Egypt today. Until the latest recession, Russians were taking their turn at overrunning the Pyramids, Valley of the Kings and museums. Salesmen at the Pyramids shift effortlessly into English, French, German and Russian as they try ply their miniature pyramids, stuffed camels, and plastic jewelry, all made in China.

So, can it still be worth it? That interesting? Worth fighting the crowds? Of course it is.

The Giza pyramids stand in the middle of a Cairo suburb but with sufficient desert immediately surrounding them to maintain their integrity. From a distance they seem small. Only by standing at its base can the achievement of their construction be felt. Amelia Edwards wrote in her book, “A Thousand Miles Up the Nile”, of the Great Pyramid “in all its unexpected bulk and majesty towers close above one’s head, [and] the effect is as sudden as it is overwhelming. It shuts out the sky and the horizon. It shuts out everything but the sense of awe and wonder.”

The tallest, the Great Pyramid, is the largest single structure in the world. Its limestone blocks are so tightly packed that a knife can’t be inserted. Very recent excavation reveal that the workers were not slaves as commonly believed. They worked three month shifts and were fed well with meat and beer - similar to our modern day, off-shore oil workers.

In the past, tourists could climb to the top of the pyramids. But today, the major “extra” adventure offered is burrowing through tunnels inside either Khafra’s or Cheop’s pyramids into the chambers where kings were previously buried. Signs warn claustrophobic visitors shouldn’t try this. The tunnel into Khafra’s was about four feet tall and wide. I thought I wasn’t claustrophobic but learned otherwise. All had to walk hunchback, a kind of compressed duck walk, seeing only the person in front. It was hot and humid. Imaging helped calm breathing. We were only in the tunnel about five minutes but it felt forever. Finally, we burst into a remarkably large inner burial room with only an empty sarcarphogus to prove its original intent. A “guide” pointed out that it was indeed a sarcarphogus and then asked for “baksheesh” or a “tip”. I was so happy to be standing, I would have given him anything.

Outside , you also have many opportunities to be photographed with a bedecked camel and to ride on said bedecked camel. Negotiating is de rigeur and saying no impossible.

The Sphinx was the surprise and has its own riddle. It may be older than the pyramids and no one is sure of its purpose. The lion’s body lounges patiently in the sand with its tail circling comfortably around. In “Innocents Abroad”, Mark Twain described its great human face as “so sad, so earnest, so longing, so patient............ It was stone, but it seemed sentient.” This is where the crowds congregated late in the afternoon as all tried to get as close as allowed to the excavated feline.

The Sphinx supervises the Nile and modern day Cairo, a view that has evolved over 3,000 years of watching. But having tourists nearby hasn’t changed much. The fascination with the shape, angles, size, placement and reasons for the pyramids will surely continue for another three thousand years as visitors connect with a fascinating past that has slowly revealed its secrets.

APTN - A UNIQUE TELEVISION STATION OPENING THE EYES OF VIEWERS

2010-02-07T11:20:00.000-08:00

The television station’s call letters were APTN - Aboriginal Peoples Television Network. Based in Winnipeg, Manitoba, this was the world’s first television station dedicated to native people and one of only four officially licensed TV networks in Canada. Its broadcasts reached across the country and into our hotel room on a recent visit to Quebec. Curious about the First Nation people’s issues in Canada, we tuned in every evening.

Canada has over 600 recognized First Nations governments or bands and approximately 1,200,000 Native Canadians, about 3% of the population. First Nation People, Amerindians, Native Americans, and Aboriginal people are all terms used to refer to those who first occupied Canada. Although First Nation tribes were not conquered as they were in the United States, Canada has struggled with how to integrate federal and provincial laws with the treaties and land claim agreements negotiated over the last 250 years. The first proclamation in 1765 was meant to protect territories reserved to the tribes for their hunting grounds. The Indian Act of 1876 determined how reserves would operate, who qualifies as a First Nation descendant and how to enfranchise their inhabitants.

The 1927 Indian Act forbade First Nation people from forming political organizations and speaking their language in schools. 150,000 children were removed from their homes and placed in government supported boarding schools to assimilate them. On June 11, 2008 Prime Minister Stephen Harper apologized for the schools and the abuse many children received.

The Indian Act has been amended over the years. But it wasn’t until 1983 that the heads of the government sat down with the leaders of the Aboriginal groups. The issues were not a surprise - land claims, natural resources ownership, education and self determination rights. Those concerns continue today as evidenced by the news stories at APTN.

During our viewing, we learned there was an election for a regional chief to the Assembly of First Nations. The candidates talked about the problems of poverty, advancing human rights, and remembering their ancestors. A second story featured members of a tribe in the far north who were blocking the trucks of an oil company until claims of ownership of the natural resources could be determined. A feature advised of the growing number of native teachers in the First Nation schools, a process started in the 1970's.

I was particularly interested in the discussion of the Sharon McIvor case, a sex discrimination suit that had just been settled the summer before. In 1985, the Indian Act was amended to correct a discrimination against Aboriginal women. Previously, an Aboriginal woman who married a non-status Indian lost her own status. The amendment corrected this problem but did not extend the protection to the woman’s children. An Aboriginal man’s children were protected even if he married a non-status woman - classic sex discrimination. It took ten years but Ms. McIvor won her case and now Aboriginal women’s children’s status are protected regardless of who their mother married.

Reading newspapers and watching local television in foreign countries helps with perspective. I realize the United States in not alone in its complexity. Canada, with ten provinces and three territories, must deal with the same federal and states rights issues we do and blend in past treaties. The most basic question of what nationality are the First Nation people is even a concern. I read that a tribal chief in Canada had recently developed a passport for his aboriginal nation which was accepted by several European countries.

Our English/Spanish debate is multiplied in Canada. At the APTN station, 56% of their broadcasts are in English, 16% in French, and 28% in Aboriginal languages. And the question of what children are taught in school is magnified in Canada as the First Nation people ask that their descendants and fellow Canadians learn of their traditions and history. Amerindians continue to protect their way of life by being politically active and by promoting tourism on their lands and in their crafts and arts. APTN helps keep them and us informed of this important goal.

Baby Boomers Sample Budget Travel in Vietnam

2010-01-10T11:31:00.000-08:00

The poor dollar seems to take a beating wherever it goes. Many Americans are letting their European cousins visit them this year. Others are dusting off their campers. But there is good news. In Vietnam, the dollar’s value has increased over the last year. In fact, with an exchange rate of around 18,435 dong to the dollar, a $100 bill can make you an instant millionaire. The even better news is that it is an economical place to travel.

Vietnam as a travel destination was discovered by the young back packer set at least15 years ago. They found a country with beautiful beaches, deltas laden with boats, motorcycle packed streets, interesting ethnic mountain tribes, hand tailored silk suits, and ruins from an advanced civilization hundreds of years old. Halong Bay took their breath away and Saigon’s night life beat most anything in the U.S. Hotels and food were cheap and the Vietnamese people welcoming. It was Europe in the early 1970s.

The older traveler has now caught on and Vietnam is experiencing a surge in tourism. Tour groups and even cruise lines have added Vietnam to their itineraries. The French have embraced their former colony and are coming in large numbers. Older Americans, however, first had to be convinced that they would be well received by the Vietnamese. Since seventy percent of the Vietnamese population is under 30 years of age, most Vietnamese only know of the “American War” from their history books. We’re treated as any other tourist, which means they want us to enjoy ourselves and come back.

What I noticed on my last visit was the number of older independent travelers who were venturing out of the luxury hotels and were really taking advantage of the low cost of travel here. The budget hotels in the “backpack” areas of Saigon and Hanoi are no longer just for the young. With bargaining, the hotel rates in these locations ranged from $12 to $25 per night. This buys you a clean room with a private bath, a small, stocked refrigerator, air conditioning and a television with CNN and BBC stations. Some even throw in a continental breakfast and if you’re really lucky, that includes the wonderful Vietnamese drip coffee.

All travelers enjoy the low cost of the food. The Vietnamese traditional soup, Pho, is as varied as Italy’s pasta, and is served all day long on the streets and in many restaurants for under $3. We got hooked on Bun Thit Nuong, a grilled meat salad with a rice vinaigrette dressing which cost a whopping four dollars. International food is now available in the larger tourist areas where a pizza and a glass of Australian Shiraz can be had for $6.

Even the high end travel scale in Vietnam is reasonable. In Saigon, now Ho Chi Minh City, I treated my traveling companions to a nice night out and was determined to spend $100 on the three of us. After drinks at the Saigon-Saigon bar on top of the elegant Caravelle Hotel, we enjoyed a meal at the Temple Club, a renovated former Chinese temple, where we retired to their drawing room for dessert and coffee. It was only with a large tip that I was able to spend the last of my $100.

Being an older independent traveler doesn’t mean you have to buy every ticket and book every hotel yourself. Vietnam is loaded with travel agencies. I counted 10 in one block of Hanoi. They have a variety of day or multi-day tours to explore the Mekong Delta, Halong Bay, Hoi Ann or the ethnic tribes in the mountains of Sapa. An overnight stay on a wooden junk boat in Halong (including food) will cost between $35 and $150, depending on the elegance of the boat. These tours can be booked after you arrive. Tour guides may be hired for each destination for $15 to $30 per day. The other nice choice is to custom-build your holiday through a consolidator. We found an operator recommended by responsibletravel.com. who helped with hotels, transportation and occasional guides, all on the economic level we requested. Even with their 25 percent cost added on, it was reasonable and saved a lot of time.

With baby boomers retiring and having time for an extended vacation, Vietnam offers both variety and value. A little investigation, determination, and adventurous spirit will land you in a beautiful country where your dollar goes a long way.

References:
SinhCafe Travel Agencies - reputable company with many locations. www. sinhcafe.com
responsibletravel.com for recomendations of local travel agents
For very personalized service, contact Ninh through www.havietninh-tours-vietnam.com

Traveling with a Christmas Tree

2009-12-17T15:03:00.000-08:00

I’m not often jealous of an inanimate object. But I have never had a helicopter ride and our Christmas tree has. It wasn’t a long flight - only about a minute. This was just enough time to lift 30 to 40 other trees and transport them to a warehouse for shipping. I was talking to Erin Fletk, an owner of Emerald Christmas Tree Company in Bellevue, Washington, who assured me that transportation by helicopter keeps trees fresher by cutting the time needed to move them out of the field.

Fletk’s company has been supplying trees to the Kroger grocery chain from Oregon land for over 50 years. The trees are hand tagged in August, cut in November and early December, flown to the warehouse, sprayed with chipped ice, placed in a refrigerated truck and transported to the stores. That’s a lot of traveling for such a young tree. Kroger’s trees come from the upper Michigan peninsula or Oregon. Home Depot also buys trees from Michigan and Oregon as well as North Carolina and Canada.. The time period from harvest to store varied from 12 hours to 7 days, depending on the destination.

In these days of carbon footprints, the question is whether the growing and transportation of our tree is an ecologically smart one, especially compared to artificial trees. And that is when I waded into the sometimes sharp discussion of real vs. not real trees.

The first issue in the debate is what to call “not real” trees. The Christmas tree industry uses the word “fake” while the artificial tree industry doesn’t call them anything at all. I looked at some artificial trees at Wal-Mart and Home Depot. There was no mention of the fact that these trees were made of plastic. On the tree and the boxes they were simply named for the tree that they resembled - such as 7 ft. Douglas Fir or Yonkers Pine. The boxes did state clearly they were MADE IN CHINA.

As an aside, the first artificial tree was developed by the Addis Brush Company. In 1950, they patented the Addis Silver pine tree, designed to revolve with lights under it. While we never had that tree growing up, many of my friends’ families bought it. And upon reflection, it did look a lot like a silver brush.

The real tree people have some pretty strong ammunition in support of Christmas tree farms. The first is that natural trees are MADE IN AMERICA. Many American farmers are supported by this industry. There are 176 members of just the Michigan Christmas Tree Association, translating into thousands nationwide. And, according to Erin Fletk, three trees are planted for every tree harvested from a farm so that no trees are taken down in any of our national parks or forests. The numbers on the other side are startling - 85 % of artificial Christmas trees are from China. . This argument hits close to home. Paris had its own Christmas tree factory (Paris Industries) for several years but it closed when the competition from China became too stiff. Obviously, Asian artificial trees travel even further to arrive in our local stores.

The disposition of the trees are starkly different. Natural trees are biodegradable and can be placed in lakes for fish habitat. They are recyclable and used to prevent beach erosion and for mulch. Our Christmas tree will be mulched by the big horizontal grinder owned by the City of Paris and made available to nurseries, schools, and residents. Artificial trees don’t disintegrate well. Some come with a PVC warning and in California, a lead warning. So, they hang out in our waste disposal site for many, many years.

According to Ms. Fletk, the movement is back towards natural Christmas trees. Their numbers are up even in these tough economic times. The Kroger chain also is selling more and at a lower price than last year. Home Depot couldn’t release numbers but would tell me they are the world’s largest retailer of Christmas trees. That’s a lot of tree movement and traveling. Our tree traveled by helicopter and truck over 3000 miles to Paris just to light up our home. What I particularly like is that this Oregon tree will soon become mulch for a Texas garden - certainly worth the trip.

Riding The New Mexico Rail Runner With an Expert

2009-12-17T14:58:00.000-08:00

Riding The New Mexico Rail Runner With an Expert

2009-11-21T13:31:00.000-08:00

My brother, Gary, has always loved trains. He’s ridden the Rocky Mountaineer across Canada, Coastal Starlight from L.A. to Seattle, SW Chief from L.A. to Chicago, Sunset Limited between L.A. and Houston and the Northeast Corridor from Washington, D. C. to Boston. He can still name the passenger lines that no long exist such as the Lone Star from Houston to Chicago and the San Francisco Chief. For the last 24 years, he has helped the Albuquerque model train society construct a model train set for the New Mexico State Fair and currently, he’s refurbishing an old Santa Fe steam engine. But I never understood how train savvy he was until we rode the New Mexico Rail Runner together.

The New Mexico Rail Runner opened for business in 2008 offering service between Belen (30 miles south of Albuquerque) and Santa Fe. The railroad caters to commuters during the week and tourists on the week-end. The charge is modest. To travel from the downtown Albuquerque station to the heart of Santa Fe costs $4 on the week-end or $6 round trip. This, obviously, doesn’t cover the cost of operation. According to Gary, no urban commuter train in the world pays for itself. Government supports the rails for various reasons - to relieve traffic, eliminate road building and protect the environment. Whatever the reason, it is a delightful option.

On a whim, my brother, mother, and I hopped on board late one Saturday afternoon in October to travel to Santa Fe for dinner. Surprisingly, it was Gary’s first ride on the train and he couldn’t stop smiling. As is often the case, railroad tracks pass through warehouse districts and run-down neighborhoods and Albuquerque was no exception . We picked up speed as we exited the suburbs to our top velocity of 79 m.p.h.( to be exact). My brother noted that if the train traveled 80 m.p.h. or faster, special electronics were required. He also identified each spur as it was passed - that one goes to the General Mills cereal plant and this one serves a sheet rock plant, etc.

The passengers were a mix. A group of women cyclists had biked from Santa Fe earlier that day and were hitching a ride back. Storage was available for the bicycles. A Native American family played cards while a young couple sat close. All of us had wonderful views from the upper deck of our car.

The track moved between the Rio Grande River on the west and Interstate 25 on the east, occasionally favoring one or the other. Bright yellow cotton wood trees followed the river and the Sandia mountains supervised the action. An announcer advised that we would be passing through Indian Reservations and that no picture taking was allowed during that time. Children played volleyball in the San Felipe Pueblo and Indian moms were baking bread in the traditional “hornos” or ovens behind their homes in the San Domingo Pueblo. - views that are not available on the interstate. We passed close to an old water tower, all that remains from a saw mill that processed lumber from the nearby Jemez mountains.

I learned today’s engines stay on just one end of the train. If the train is headed in the opposite direction of the engine as ours was, an engineer sits in a telephone booth size compartment in the last passenger car (now the front of the train) and directs from there. The diesel powered engine is like a mini power plant. It generates electricity that is transferred to electric motors on each of the wheels.

Gradually, our Rail Runner began to climb. The original tracks from Santa Fe to Albuquerque went through Lamy, a more gradual route currently owned by the Santa Fe Southern RR. For the New Mexico Rail Runner, the state of New Mexico bought the entire line from Belen to Trinidad, Colorado from the BNSF Railroad. Gary gave me a short history of all the mergers of railroad companies and what the initials meant but I got lost. Even modern day trains can’t climb the steep La Bajada hill where the Interstate runs so the state had to blast through some smaller hills and lay a new track for a part of the line. On the older portion of the track, old telephone and telegraph poles can still be seen. Nearby are solar powered reception poles to provide future WIFI coverage along the route.

We pulled into the old Santa Fe railroad station on time as the sun was setting. A crowd awaited our exit from the train as many were ready to return to Albuquerque. Zia’s Diner was only a short, one block walk where my sister-in-law held a table for us. What a relaxing way to travel. We can only dream of being able to make a fast trip to Dallas on rails without having to keep an eye on the road and the cars whizzing past. New Mexico made a commitment to an old form of mass transit in a new package. Anyone near the area should take advantage of it - even without your own personal guide.

www.nmrailrunner.com

Mary Grace's Little Pink Case and Other Packing Suggestions

2009-10-31T20:04:00.000-07:00

I travel a lot. That doesn’t mean I’m the most organized voyager. I do know to make copies of the itinerary, check on the electrical current at the destination, and even confirm the expiration date of my passport. But despite reading articles on how to pack efficiently, reviewing check lists, and keeping a well-stocked toiletry kit, something is always left behind –Tylenol, lotion, … something. When that happens, I’m glad to be traveling with my friend, Mary Grace, and her Little Pink Case.

The bag is not large – 6 ¾ inches wide, 2 ¾ inches high, 4 ¾ inches deep to be exact– but it’s filled with well-reasoned travel needs. Mary Grace tucks it inside her larger purse to carry on the plane. Some articles are obvious – a sewing kit, an emery board, small toothbrush, an extra contact lens case. Dental floss, Band-Aids (2), and a large tooth comb are also available.

But it took traveling with Mary Grace to discover what other gems the case held. When my husband’s glasses fell apart on a trip to Italy, she popped out an eye glass repair kit from the pink interior. Blisters from a long day of walking through Roman ruins were quickly protected with moleskin. Available batteries (4 AA and 2 AAA) relit the small flashlight we carried.

Mary Grace anticipates common, on the road medical problems and conditions and stores aid for most. Corn cushions and a blister treatment (2) help with foot sores. Preparation H (1), Alavert for allergies (2), Valtrex for fever blisters (2), Benadryl (8), Domeboro, a soaking solution for rashes (2 packets), and Tylenol pm (2) also await a distress call.

Fashions needs aren’t ignored. A “Gal Pal” pad allows her to remove white deodorants marks, make-up, lint, and dirt from clothes. Fashion tape protects against gaping blouses and fallen hems as do safety pins. She throws in some Q-tips and a razor for emergency needs.

The kit is not static. Previously, it carried a blanket bag (the silver fold up kind) but Mary Grace has deleted that item. After we forgot to claim our car keys at an airport security basket, she added a spare car key. (By the way, DFW rental car places are open 24 hours a day, in case you ever do the same.) Earplugs, eye mask and fold up glasses are also newcomers to the unit.

Much is written about the art of traveling light. I picked up “The Packing Book” at a half price book store in Austin and found it filled with two hundred and fifty eight pages of packing lists for week-end travel, a trip to Europe, beach wardrobe, and even adventure travel needs. Readers tips include “sell your jeans”, “leave appliances at home”, and “take a vacation from make-up”. There were too many suggestions for me.

The best site on the net for lightening your load is www.onebag.com where you learn the “Art and Science of Travelling Light”. Doug Dyment is the guru of efficient packing in a single carry-on bag. Over-packing is the number one travel mistake. Four pairs of shoes are not a problem if you’re driving. But if flying, the extra bag for shoes can seriously slow you down as well as cost extra. No iron shirts are a god-send for guys. www.TravelSmith.com is a good source for versatile travel ware for men and women. And don’t forget that scarves are a great, light accessory to dress-up any outfit.

Doug Dyment, Mary Grace and her husband have convinced us to keep it at one small suitcase. I do cheat, though, and bring a fold up bag “in case” I find something to bring home. I haven’t duplicated the Little Pink Case, though. So, I’ll just have to continue to travel with Mary Grace.

Contents of Mary Grace’s Little Pink Case

gal pal
emery board
large tooth comb
toothbrush
dental floss
spare contact lens (x2)
contact lens case
razor
fashion tape (good for gaping blouses and fallen hems)
safety pins
Q-tips

4 AA batteries
2 AAA batteries
eye glass repair kit
sewing kit
polish off (fingernail polish remover)
contact lens case (2nd one)
band-aids (2)
corn cushions (good for blisters)
blister treatment (2)
moleskin (1 square)
domeboro (soaking solution for rashes)2 packets
preperation H (1)
alavert (2)
valtrex (fever blisters) (2)
benedryl 8
tylenol pm (2)

spare car keys
ear plugs
eye mask
fold-up glasses

JE ME SOUVIENS – QUEBEC ‘S CONNECTION TO ITS PAST

2009-10-14T19:22:00.000-07:00

It was one of the first things we noticed in Quebec City. We arrived late at night and hailed a taxi to our hotel. While waiting at a stoplight, my husband read these words on the license plate of the car ahead – “Je Me Souviens”. I asked our driver in French its meaning. Fortunately, he replied in English – “I remember”. Our next question wove its way throughout the trip. “What exactly do you remember?”

The taxi driver believed it meant they remembered a 250 year old battle from 1759 when the English defeated the French in Quebec. This was not just any old skirmish. The Battle of the Plains of Abraham permanently changed the boundaries of what eventually became Canada. General Wolfe surprised the French by sneaking up the cliffs at night and attacking behind the city. French Commander Montcalm had expected a landing from the river level and his troops literally had to run five miles back to the real battlefield, arriving exhausted and disorganized. Twenty minutes later the battle ended. Seriously, in 20 minutes, the time it takes to drive from Paris to Honey Grove, Quebec City became English. The actual war didn’t end for two more years but this battle gave the English control of the St. Lawrence River and soon all of La Nouvelle France joined the British Empire. The French government left but the most of the French citizens that had settled there stayed.

I relate this story in detail because its history permeates Quebec City, even today. A cannon ball from the shelling of the city by General Wolfe is still lodged in a tree along Rue St. Louis. The Plains of Abraham is now a wonderful park where Quebecans stroll, play soccer, and lounge on the many benches to enjoy the view of the St. Lawrence. And at the lovely Jardin des Gouverneurs (Governors’ Park), the Wolfe-Montcalm Monument pays tribute to both the winning and losing generals in the big battle.

On a walking tour the next day, we heard the official interpretation of “Je me souviens”. Our guide explained the phrase to mean, “I remember my history”. Canadian history is divided into thirds, French, English, and then Canadian. “We remember each part of our heritage,” she explained dutifully. This is supported by the large number of statutes in front of their parliament building that reflect the heroes of the founders, clerics, French and English governors, and the Amerindians.

A visit to the incredible Citadel fortress, built to protect the city from the Americans, provided a third interpretation of the phrase. The 22nd Royal Regiment, the only French speaking unit in Canada, has its headquarters in the Citadel. It is a fighting unit. Of the 2800 Canadians in Afghanistan, 1500 are from the 22nd. The flag was at half mast on the day of our visit because a Canadian soldier had died in Afghanistan. The unit’s motto, “Je Me Souviens”, is meant to honor their fallen comrades. Every day, an officer reads out the names of the members of the regiment who have died so they will not be forgotten.

With the rest of their country speaking English and the giant America at its heels, Quebec Province decided thirty years ago to get serious about remembering its heritage. Signs in English were taken down. Students were required to attend French speaking schools with only a few exceptions. The Quebecans consider their French more pure than that of France, albeit with a different accent. Quebec Province even came close to voting to secede from Canada. Today, the secession fever has abated but their pride has not. It is reflected in their truly wonderful food. The population is far more Catholic than the mother country. At a hotel in the country, our room had a list of daily masses at the nearby church. And they welcome immigrants, provided the newcomers learn their language and accept their culture.

It is important to promote an area’s history. “Remember the Alamo” is a proud Texas phrase that inspired those fighting for our independence. It may become our motto if we ever wanted to secede. “Je me souviens” has come to reflect Quebec’s pride in its roots and has given the citizens of Quebec the determination to protect their language and culture. The result is a bonus for tourists – a beautiful French speaking location, historical preservation and wonderful cuisine – all without having to cross the ocean.

Many Reasons to Meet in St. Louis

2009-10-02T15:17:00.000-07:00

Meet me in St. Louis, Louis
Meet me at the Fair
Don’t tell me the lights are shining
Any place but there.

We will dance the Hoochie -Koochie
I will be your Tootsie-Wootsie
If you will meet me in St. Louis, Louis
Meet me at the Fair

I don’t know what the Hoochie-Koochie is nor if I would want to be anyone’s Tootsie-Wootsie, but I do know that St. Louis is a wonderful city to visit, even for just a wedding week-end. A nice surprise, really.

St.Louis was established by a French fur trader in 1764. If you had lived in St. Louis for the next 40 years, you could have been a French resident, then Spanish, then French again, and finally American in 1804 (rather hard on which language to learn) The city was named for a King Louis but there is some confusion on which one. Louis XV reigned at the time of its establishment and his patron saint was Saint Louis IX, the only canonized King of France. It is the latter King whose statute supervises Forest Park outside the St. Louis Art Museum and was the city’s symbol until the Gateway Arch was built.

There is still a strong Roman Catholic presence in the city which was once known as the Rome of the West. Established in 1829 by the Catholic Bishop of Louisiana, St. Louis University (SLU) was the first institute of higher learning west of the Mississippi. And the Basilica of St. Louis, King, founded in 1770, was the first Catholic Cathedral west of the Mississippi.

The most memorable event to take place in St. Louis was the world’s largest fair ever in 1904 that celebrated the Louisiana Purchase a century before and spawned the song, “Meet Me in St. Louis”. In a six month period, 20 million people visited the 900 buildings constructed for the event in or near Forest Park. The only remaining original building is the Art Museum. However, the park continues to serve the community with the world class St. Louis Zoo, lakes and green spaces galore, an Art Deco, glass Jewel Box, an old fashioned band stand, and the Missouri History Museum - all free to the public.

We were tipped off by our fellow travelers, Keith and Janet Green, that the St. Louis Cardinals were playing after the rehearsal dinner in the new Busch Stadium. Only standing room tickets were available. The last time we had the pleasure of being upright for an event was at an opera in Vienna, Austria, made even longer by the standing. At the time, we swore never again. But memory fades and we decided to try again.

Finding a place behind our allotted painted yellow lines was not easy. We hung out on the first level with the other late slackers until an usher gently encouraged us to find another spot where we would actually be behind the yellow lines and not to the side. On the third level, space was available and included a metal bar to lean against. But the top level was bright and empty of fellow standees. The arch could be seen in the background as well as downtown St. Louis - a very pleasant experience except that the Cardinals lost.

Fortunately for us, the wedding took place in the immense Botanical Gardens, one of the oldest in the United States. Besides being a popular wedding spot (five other young couples said their vows that day), over 100 researchers work at the gardens, one half of them with Phds. A 1960 Climatron (think metal Geodisic dome) provides an authentic rain forest experience while one can also stroll through the Chinese, Japanese, day lily, and rose gardens.

And what trip to St. Louis could be complete without venturing to the top of the Gateway Arch? It surprised and delighted us. Underneath the silver rainbow, the guides direct five persons at a time to stand in front of individual, four foot tall painted doors. Suddenly, each pops open and five people cautiously exit the spacelike capsule. We mold ourselves in, the doors close, and the tram clanks back and forth up the curved interior of the arch. Because of the physical weight of the structure at the top, the windows at the top are narrow and rectangular, but the view spectacular.

St. Louis has lost its influence over the years. In 1818 it was the 4th largest city in the U.S. but now ranks 53rd. In the past , it produced the most beer, shoes, stoves, and wagons in the world. Today, Enterprise Rent-a-Car, Edward Jones, and Wachovia Securities anchor here, and much beer is still brewed through the giant company of Anheuser Busch. Because of its long, rich past, St. Louis has beautiful old buildings, neighborhoods, homes, and gardens. A wedding week-end was not enough to take it all in. So, we’ll just have to meet again in St. Louis.

An Evening with the Texas Rangers

2009-09-06T07:28:00.000-07:00

A summer is not complete without one trip to Arlington for a Texas Rangers Game. We’ve all done it - departed Paris in the afternoon and returned in the wee hours of the morning. The idea always sounded better at the beginning of the journey than the end.

The Ballpark is still a lovely facility. It opened in 1994 and that year the Rangers had their best attendance - an average of 43,916. This year the team is averaging 28,012 fans, earning them a ranking of number 17 out of 30 teams. As you can imagine, the New York Yankees has the highest average attendance at 53,069. . But 28,012 is admirable - 2,114 more people than live in Paris, meaning we can all easily fit inside the stadium and not even require the use of the bleachers. It’s also nice to know that if we really wanted to, Paris could do a very decent community wide “wave”.

Individual ticket prices vary wildly from $6 to $205 and even more for “premiere” games. The latter cashes in when big name teams come to town, such as the New York Yankees. In looking for better deals, I recently discovered the Fan Value Corner at the Texas Rangers official website - www.texas.rangers.mlb.com. An array of specials are available for families, children, heavy eaters, Lexus owners, and those who have always wanted to have the “suite” experience. The best deal seemed to be the Coca Cola Family Night - four tickets, four jumbo hot dogs, four coca colas and one parking pass for as low as $60. I liked the description of having your own suite for the night which includes flavored popcorn and chicken tenders. And in case you didn’t get it, the web site assures you that the “experience is priceless”. It should be for $75 a ticket. ( The last value deal listed was for those of you who own a Lexus - free valet parking at any home game. Now that’s a deal.)

Our son’s birthday happened to fall on a premier night in August when the Boston Red Sox arrived to determine who would take over the lead for the “wild card” playoff position. It seemed the perfect night to attend. We arrived 90 minutes early but were not alone. Many fans come well before the start of the game - to watch batting practice, get autographs, start on the beer drinking, or simply to take in all of the activity and enjoy the breeze. The game got underway at 7:05 with the first pitch tossed out by “Simone” in her flip flops. (Don’t ask me who she was.)

In case you were wondering, there are A LOT of Boston Red Sox fans in the Dallas area. And many were wearing the shirt of their favorite players, especially that of David Ortiz. I started counting the number of Rangers shirts on fans and found Josh Hamilton to have the most with 24 supporters. Michael Young still commanded a following at 15 shirts. But the up and coming player was Ian Kinsler with 10. It took some concentration to keep up with the count as new people arrived and I realized belatedly that I had actually counted Kinsler himself as he came up to bat.

It wasn’t our first Ranger game but it was the first Ranger game that really counted. Texas had the opportunity in this series to go ahead of the Red Sox in the race for a post season playoff position. Add that in with many Red Sox admirers and the result was strong fan participation throughout the game. “Let’s go Red Sox” was echoed by “Let’s go Rangers”. Only after the first Red Sox home run did I realize we had “traitors” near us as they cheered on their team. The only time both sides stood together was for the national anthem and the wave. Our section even required the appearance of extra security guards to calm a few aficionados.

As dutiful fans, we bought hotdogs and beer. Our son and a friend feasted on nachos. A neighbor offered us some popcorn and we ate that, too. We even paid for cold, bottled water at the end. And as advertised, the experience was priceless. We saw home runs for both sides, a stand-up triple, a balk by a pitcher allowing a run for us, good pitching, a record number of stolen bases for the Rangers (8), and ..... a win. Most amazingly, few people left early. The game wasn’t over until the last out. Maybe this is how all New York Yankees games feel. It certainly made the long ride home more enjoyable.

P.S. Arrive in Arlington even earlier and take in a tour of the new Dallas Cowboys stadium, a short walk from the Ballpark.

Family Vacation in Costa Rica - Pura Vida

2009-08-24T06:16:00.000-07:00

I’ve been asked several times for suggestions on foreign travel with children. There’s one easy answer - Costa Rica - our family’s favorite trip together.

Because of its beauty and neutral government (they have no army), Costa Rica is the Switzerland of Central America. Their former president, Oscar Arias Sanchez, has negotiated the end to civil war in Guatemala and is currently trying to resolve leadership problems in Honduras. Jammed into this small country is an incredible variety of botanical and geological wonders - rain forest, cloud forest, active volcanoes, and beautiful coasts, all within 120 miles of each other.

Costa Ricans pride themselves on being “muy sencillo” (very simple) and often greet you with “pura vida”, the national philosophy of life. This can be translated as “it’s all good”, “full of life”, “have a good day”, or on a deeper level “enjoy life slowly and with perseverance”. Because of their high literacy rate and the country’s early recognition of eco-tourism, visitors feel welcomed and appreciated. It is loaded with language schools and has become a popular retirement country.

Renting a car is easy and fun and you should try a Toyota Forerunner or a jeep. The roads are mostly good and easy to maneuver. The jungle area to the northeast of its capital, San Jose, is a good beginning point. At Selva Verde Lodge in Chilamente, (www.selvaverde.com/)you are greeted with hammocks, balconies, and mosquito netting. Turn in early. The birds will wake you up. I’ve never heard such an early morning din - a mixture of thousands of birds greeting each other all at once. Experts will name them at the 6 a.m. birdwalks. A guided jungle walk can reveal the poison dart frogs (actually quite beautiful) and occasional monkeys. Kids will love the raft trip down the near-by Sarapiqui river. The guides are young but knowledgeable and the water lively.

On to the active volcano, Arenal. This is always a little dicey. Do you want it to be really active and spew out lava or are you satisfied with it just warming its neighbor, the Tabacon baths? Actually, it doesn’t matter what you want. You are totally dependent on Arenal’s whim. If it’s too active, they won’t let you near. But usually, one can enjoy the smoke puffing out of the cone while sitting in a leisurely hot bath, warmed by volcanic underground energy. The Tabacon’s hot mineral springs and waterfalls provide a Disneyland feel with 10 pools ranging in temperature from 80 to 110 degrees and lovely paths connecting them. Massages are available as well as a swim up bar. www.tabacon.com/

The Santa Elena Cloud Forest Reserve in Monteverde is famous and worth traveling the rough roads to arrive there. A rain forest is designated as such because of receiving 100 inches or more of rain a year. But a cloud forest is one in which much of the moisture is received from the mountain’s clouds settling on the forest. Both are Wet with a capital W and our day there was no exception. But it is at Santa Elena that we all finally understood ecosystems. Our wonderful guide, a PhD candidate from Cornell, could stop at any tree, ant mound, or stream and explain who fed on whom and what attracted what. He spotted the beautiful quetzal for us and helped us hear the three waddled bell bird. We were treated to an amazing show when a group of raccoon-like coatimundis arrived, followed by a troop of white faced capuchin monkeys looking for dinner. This area is also the first in the country to have a zip line, where you are harnessed to a cable and zip from one tree to another - guaranteed to be the kids favorite activity of the trip.

A final stop would be on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica at Manuel Antonio, south of Quepos, a place for relaxing with beautiful views. Howler monkeys woke us in the morning (think Tarzan movie) and tiny titi monkeys walked the wires outside our room. The Manuel Antonio Park has a great beach where you can belly board or simply check out the nearby iguanas, lizards, sloths, and monkeys. http://www.manuelantoniopark.com/mapk/english/park.html

Costa Rica pleases the birders, outdoor enthusiasts, botanists, curious, and even the lazy beachcombers who just want to relax. It is safe, welcoming, and perfect for opening a child’s eyes to the wonder of nature.

TAG - The World's First Graffiti Exhibit in Paris, France

2009-08-07T13:24:00.000-07:00

I first noticed the graffiti on the train ride into Paris (France) from the DeGaulle airport. Curvy bubble letters were everywhere - on apartment buildings, overpasses, warehouses, stores, and even the trains themselves. The combination of letters made no sense in French or English. KERS, RIZOT, FUMI, TRANE, TAKE, SEYA.

Once the graffiti caught my eye, I saw it everywhere. The booksellers’ stalls along the Seine were a target as was the canopy of our favorite restaurant. Initials were painted on the bottom of a lovely fountain in the Pompidou Museum. Heartfelt comments decorated the stone above the tunnel where Princess Diana had died. White vans were irresistible targets. A French friend of ours called it an “infestation of graffiti”.

Graffiti originated as an American art form in the streets of New York four decades ago. Gang members used a “tag” or name to mark the boundaries of their territory. Soon, individual artists developed their own style and signature. Most were young, poor and used the concrete canvases available to them. In the graffiti world, the tag of Taki 183 is equal to the names of Rousseau or Degas in the Impressionist movement. This art form gave herds of energetic adolescents the power to rise above the force of their urban poverty. They loved the fleeting nature of their art and that thousands saw it from subway trains. A special paint was even developed for graffiti use. The movement spread world wide and became an element of Hip Hop.

France can’t decide what to do with this art form or even whether to call it art. They use the English word, Tag, to name it. Pierre Cornette de Saint-Cyr, president of the Association of Palais de Tokyo, feels “99% of the taggers are cretins who only want to foul walls”. The French spend millions cleaning up the painted walls and at the same time have authorized certain walls in town to be used for this expression. Jean Philippe Domecq has said in Le Point Magazine, “the state is punishing these people on one side and welcoming on the other. The state is so afraid of missing another Van Gogh, it throws money at every fad. This is subsidizing subversion”.

After recognizing graffiti’s presence in the City of Lights, we learned the world’s first Tag Exhibition had just opened at the Grande Palais, the same beautiful building where Yves St. Laurent’s art collection had recently been auctioned.
Posters for the exhibition were placed around the city, all appropriately covered with real graffiti. One hundred and fifty of the world’s notable graffiti artists were represented. Each produced two canvasses, one based on the graffiti idea of the name or tag and the other a work that symbolized love.

Colors, movement and large figures dominated the exhibition. EZO of the United States painted comic book like characters while LADY PINK’s faces could have graced a Tommie de Paulo’s children’s book. The French BANDO’s tag tilted as if being read in motion. Both the French FIST and the American FAUST placed their oversized tags on subway cars. Some artists used the medium for philosophical comments such as“Love and Hate have the Same Address” from the Swiss NASTY. And what would an exhibition be in France without a thick lipped, naked woman? France’s UNO provided one with a spray can under her arm.

The subject of the pieces as well as the bold techniques stimulated much conversation among the mostly young and often tattooed viewers. But the paintings were a far cry from the simple tags of letters that were painted on too many surfaces in the city.

So, was the Tag show the “impressionist” exhibit of our times? Many Parisians were outraged at the Salon des Refuses that first presented Monet, Manet, and others. Modern day Parisians were conflicted at the Tag show and even those who like the idea of graffiti don’t want it on their walls or bathrooms. But they did attend in large numbers.

The show’s producer, Alain-Dominique Gallizia had to promise his artists that he would never sell or divide the collection. Most graffiti artists are not ready to sell out although a market has recently developed for tag posters and t-shirts. They continue to enjoy the adrenaline associated with the fast nature of their art and the rest of us will continue to be divided on the worth of their expression.

The Caprock Escarpment - More than just Palo Duro Canyon

2009-07-17T11:30:00.000-07:00

When was the last time you used the word escarpment? Maybe never? It is a geological term and Texas has more than one. In geomorphology, an escarpment is a “transition zone between different physiogeographic provinces that involves a sharp, steep elevation differential, characterized by a cliff or steep slope.” Have I lost you? What we’re talking about is the Caprock Escarpment, the wonderful approach to the high plains of the panhandle of Texas.

Sketched on a map (you might want to pullout your Texas map), the escarpments on the east and west look like castle walls hugging the edges of the Llano Estacado, a flat semi-arid plateau where Amarillo and Lubbock preside over the fortress. It runs 300 miles on each side. Our very own Red River starts up at the Prairie Dog Town Fork, one of the waterways that helped cut and create the canyons and many cliffs.

The most famous part of the Caprock Escarpment is Palo Duro Canyon, a jewel of a canyon and home to Palo Duro Canyon State Park (75 years old this summer) and the musical “Texas”. If you have missed it, go. If you haven’t been there recently, go back. It is that beautiful.

Even though it appears to be a miniature Grand Canyon, Palo Duro Canyon is actually the second largest canyon in the United States. It stretches 120 miles long, 20 miles across at its widest point and up to 800 feet in depth. The state park only includes some of Palo Duro’s most northern canyons. If you’ve ever wanted to live in a canyon, nearby Timbercreek Canyon has a gated community with 500 residents. It was hard to believe I was in Texas as I recently sat on the porch of a friend’s home in Timbercreek with her own canyon wall as a backyard.

An easy way to see a large swath of the lower Palo Duro Canyon is to take highway 207 from Claude to Silverton, crossing the Prairie Dog Town Fork and coming out on the plains. This a lovely drive even if it’s on the way to and from nowhere. It does eventually pass through Tule Canyon with its MacKenzie Reservoir.

Further south is one of the newer parks, Caprock Canyon State Park and Trailway, which has great views of the “scarp”. You can cycle, walk, ride horses or run the 64 miles of the Trailway or any of its six segments you choose. It is the ultimate rails to trails path that runs from Estelline to South Plains, passes over 40 bridges, through a 700 foot tunnel and occasionally follows the top of the escarpment.

The State Park itself is outside of Quitaque (pronounced kitty kway) and located near Turkey. (I’m sure that orients you.) The park also has trails and 30 miles of paved roadways among the surrounding canyon walls. If lucky, you’ll spot the official state buffalo herd which is descended from the original free range southern bison. The Spanish described these creatures as cows with a narrow, short face, and long beards (like goats) and when they ran they threw their heads down with the beard dragging on the ground. No wonder the vast buffalo herds frightened every horse the Spaniards brought. The state herd is the last one left.

In “A Voyage Long and Strange”, author Tony Horowitz tracks Coronado in his search for El Dorado in 1541. The latest archeological discoveries confirm that Coronado must have crossed New Mexico from the west into Texas where he first encountered the plains filled with grass that “straightened up again as soon as it had been trodden down”. He passed near modern day Plainview and Floydada until being startled by a broad ravine about half a mile across and a hundred feet deep - the Caprock Escarpment, what else! According to Horowitz, in 1966, a Spanish gauntlet or chain-mail glove was discovered by a farmer at the edge of the Blanco Canyon. Later excavations found horseshoes, nails, and crockery - a treasure chest of Coronado’s artifacts resting today at ..... the Floydada museum. Amazing.

It’s hard to believe escarpments can be entertaining. Driving from Plainview to Paris across the flattest and best farm land around is a lot more fun knowing that at any moment, the land is going to drop out from under you. On your next trip west, even for a long week-end, try exploring the wonders of the Caprock Escarpment.

For more information on the state parks, places to stay and the escarpment, these sites are helpful.

Hudspeth House - historic Bed and Breakfast in Canyon where Georgia O'Keeffe stayed. Good history of Palo Duro Canyon and article on O'Keefe. http://.www.hudspethinn.com/southernliving.html

Joe Nick Patoski on the Caprock Canyons Trailway
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Master Naturalist Article on Llano Estacado
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