It is Saturday morning. Our five nights on the Oregon Coast….in Paradise….have come to an end. It is time to pack the car and bid a sad farewell to the Pacific Ocean, as we slowly wind our way down highway US 101….the Oregon Coast Highway….toward our next destination. On this part of the journey, we didn’t stop much…..but kept a steady pace toward the California border…..and subsequently to Eureka, where we would camp for the night.

US 101 pretty much follows the coastline the entire way to Brookings, the last town in Oregon. We took one last look at the Pacific Ocean as we drove along…..sad that we had to bid Farewell to Paradise…..but happy for the fun and the relaxation we had while we were there…..and thankful for the pleasant memories we were taking with us.

Let me be honest: I have seen what I came to see. The rest of the trip is sort of down hill from now until the time we pull into our driveway again. Don’t get me wrong. I am still looking forward to the places we will see; the things we will do. And, also remember, this is the first time Fayez has seen any of this….so we still have a lot of trip to enjoy yet. And, I am always curious and happy to see his reaction to all the new places…..and all of the new experiences. And, there are plenty more to come.

Stopping at the California border, we performed our usual ritual of taking pictures of the border sign. Continuing on to the south, our attention was drawn to the gradual appearance of the giant Redwood trees that lined the highway. These giant trees would stay with us for the next twenty-four hours….and become a source of fascination.

Our destination was Eureka, California, where we had reserved a camping spot for the night, again in a KOA Campground. Again, we put our trust and hope in the little GPS wizard. And…..it almost failed us! This time, I admit, as much as I don’t want to, that it was not the fault of the GPS. For some unknown reason the campground had posted the wrong address on their web site. The poor little GPS was confused. It didn’t know any differently; it was just doing its job. As comforting as that sounds…..it didn’t do us any good. I suppose it is more or less like a teacher telling a student that 2 + 2 = 5…..and then counting it wrong when he puts it on a test! We finally stopped and looked up the correct address. We did eventually find the campground. The bright side of this story is that we got to see a great deal of Eureka, California….probably more than we wanted to see. On the negative side…..I am surprised that KOA has any customers, if they all use the same web site as we did.  The next time you invite somebody to your house…..but really don’t want them to come…..just give them the wrong address.

The Redwoods are truly awe-inspiring. These trees are the largest and tallest trees in the world….and they exist only in parts of Northern California….and to a lesser extent, along the southern Oregon Coast. The tallest of the Redwood trees can reach a height of 350 feet….or more. Put in other words, that is as tall as a 35 story building…..and considerable higher than a football field is long! Just one redwood tree can supply enough lumber to build several houses. And, maybe this is good news because redwood is very insect resistant…thus you would not have to worry about your house being destroyed by termites.

At the base of the tree, the redwood can measure up to 20 feet in diameter. Believe me….try as hard as you can, and you can’t put your arms around one! Standing beside a redwood tree, both Fayez and I looked very small and insignificant. And, also consider the fact that many of these trees are as much as 2000 years old….the average being around 500 – 700 years old. That is even older than I am! Although there are certain people from Saudi Arabia who do not believe this!

There are about 1.75 million acres of redwood trees in California….and about 450,000 acres are in parks or other protected public lands. Fayez and I drove the route called Avenue of the Giants…..probably the most popular of the redwood viewing areas. The drive through the redwood forest is a cool, shady drive….the road protected from the sunlight by the towering branches. The drive is soothing and leisurely as the road winds through the majestic trees. The giant trees grow only inches from the highway…..so it is not a fast trip. If a car would ever smash into a redwood tree…..I can, with 100% certainty, tell you who the winner in that contest will be…..and it is not going to be you.

A person cannot fully appreciate these magnificent forests by merely driving through them. You must stop and see them up close and personally…..just like Fayez and I did.   We stopped in several places along the highway to take a first hand look. Don’t worry, there are plenty of pull-in places where you can park well off the road with no danger of being struck by another vehicle.

As you walk through the forest, it good to remember that for all practical purposes, you are walking among trees that were there when this continent was first discovered…..and the leaves, twigs, and branches lying on the ground have also been lying there for perhaps hundreds of years. It is difficult for many of us to imagine back beyond our own brief years here on this earth. But, our lifespan is relatively insignificant compared to the history of these trees.

There is a saying that you cannot see forest because of the trees. In the case of the redwoods, it would be more accurate to say you cannot see the trees because of the forest. It is very difficult to get a good perspective on individual trees. There are so many of them…..and they are all so big! The only things you have to compare them with…..are themselves. If there were some elm trees or some oak trees or some apple trees…..any kind of tree…..you would have a reference point. But….all you can see are redwood trees.

We came across several trees that were lying on the ground…..for one unknown reason or another. I stood at one end of the fallen tree, and Fayez stood at the opposite end. It was like I was standing on the home team goal line….and Fayez was the opponent’s goal line…..one hundred yards away. When I took a picture……there was a lot of tree trunk between him and me. Definitely a lot more tree trunk than Fayez!

It is difficult to get a good picture of the trees no matter where you are in the forest. Yes…you can take pictures of the bottoms of the trees…..and that is impressive because the bases of the trees are huge. But…..how do you get a good pictures of the entire tree…its towering height? That is the puzzle. In past years, I used to lie down on the ground and point the camera straight up. Even this does not make a very good picture….it just does not capture the dramatic length and breadth of the stately trees. Well, this is one problem that Fayez does not have back home on the desert!

I have a word of caution for anybody who plans to hike very far into the forest. Make sure you know how to get back to your car. This is not as obvious as it sounds….. Once you get deep into the forest…everything looks the same. Literally. It is difficult to distinguish one tree from another. This tree looks like that tree…looks like that tree…..etc. No…..they are not painted different colors….nor do they have names on them…nor do they come in different architectural designs. They are all just trees. If the sun is not shining…..you will not even have the sun to guide you….if you even know how. I can imagine that it is analogous to being in the middle of an ocean….water, water everywhere. Or….in the middle of the Saudi Arabian desert. All the sand is brown! So, make sure you know how to get back to your vehicle safely…..or you may live the rest of your life hunting for nuts and berries……and sleeping under a blanket of leaves.

You can learn a lot by stopping and taking a look at the exhibits which you will find along the Avenue of the Giants…..assuming that you actually want to learn some more about the redwoods. Even if you don’t want to learn any additional information, you can browse through some of the gift shops and look at some of the “authentic” trinkets and souvenirs….that were no doubt manufactured in India or China. And…of course, take this opportunity to use the rest rooms.

Our final stop on our trip through the redwoods was the picturesque village of Myers Flat. This little town is at about the half-way point on the Avenue of Giants, and by this time we had an excellent opportunity to immerse ourselves in the atmosphere of the redwoods. If our schedule had permitted it, we would have gladly continued on to the end of the highway where it meets up with US 101 again.

Myers Flat is the location of the Shrine Drive-Through Tree. It will cost a small amount of money….but it was worth paying the cash in order to take pictures of Fayez driving our car through the tree. There are always cars waiting to drive through….and it is often a rather slow process. Some people are not content with a simple picture or two. They feel they have to have pictures of every member of the family “driving” the car…. Could most of these people be Japanese? And many of them want pictures of all the occupants of the vehicle standing in front of the car. Not just a couple pictures…..but pictures from every angle. Sounds like the Japanese again. Fayez and I were not so demanding, though. I got out…..walked around to the front of the tree while Fayez made the ceremonial stop about four-fifth the way through the tree. A couple or three pictures…..and we were satisfied. Time for the next car! There are also some interesting exhibits here that are worth a quick glance. And, of course…..a gift shop.

OK…..that was an interesting, relaxing and inspiring experience. One of those mysteries of nature.

We have seen the “big trees”. Now let’s continue on to “big money”…..Reno, Nevada. But, first, we had to make a short trip to Shingle town, California, where we would spend the night.

Now we were faced with a choice: Should we rely on my expert knowledge of reading and following a map? ……a skill that I have developed and perfected over many long years of experience. Or….Should we follow the directions of the fickle little GPS device….and see where it leads us?

I…..always….or usually…..or sometimes….being the nice guy….and wanting to avoid conflict….resigned myself to the option of following the route the GPS had mandated.

As with many things that are unknown…..the trip from the redwoods to Shingletown started out normally and routinely. A good blacktop highway…..or so we thought. We were in a good mood. We had just finished a stimulating visit to the giant redwoods, a miracle of nature and a marvel of creation…..and now we were headed toward Reno…..and in one more day we would find ourselves in a completely frivolous, artificial, hedonistic creation of man! It would be a radical change of pace for us. But, we were anticipating it…..and eager to arrive and start enjoying the glitz and glamor that we might discover there. But…..first there was the matter of the short trip to the KOA in Shingletown.

As we drove along, we ascended higher and higher into the mountains with breath taking scenery surrounding us on all sides. We were happy as we gazed with appreciation and delight at the mountains, the forests and the valleys. And, of course, we talked…laughed….joked…. as we always do while we are driving along.

After a while, we….or at least I, began to notice something rather strange. The “highway” was becoming more and more narrow. On-coming traffic was sparse….actually non-existent. How far are we from the next town? There were no highway signs….no billboards…. Oh well……maybe the state of California doesn’t do a very good job in caring for its mountain highways.

We continued to press onward. Soon, the blacktop became sporadic….and gradually morphed from a paved “highway” into a gravel road…..a narrow gravel road, at that.
We kept winding our way higher and higher into the mountains. Still no traffic, no signs, no billboards. The GPS. What does the GPS say? Where are we? How far to the next town? If the GPS knew…..it wasn’t telling us.

I began to become somewhat concerned. “Shingletown, Oh Shingletown, Where art thou, fair Shingletown?” Fayez kept plowing on, somewhat oblivious to any danger we might be in. The gas gauge registered about one fourth tank. Not very comforting. Where are we? Where are we going? Even the GPS doesn’t know where the next town is located. This can’t be good. “We should have followed the route on the map,” I was thinking…..or I probably said it aloud. At least, if we got lost….we would know where we were lost. What if we ran out of gas? What would we do? Would anybody ever find us? Would we be forced to become mountain men and never see our families again? Why didn’t we use our cell phones? Are you joking? There was no cell phone signal where we were.

What choice did we have? It was too late to turn back. So we kept moving forward. You can bet that the happy conversation came to an end…..and an air of uneasiness prevailed….and maybe a degree of anxiety, too. Finally, we came upon the first farm house we had seen in many miles. Ahh….a ray of hope. Maybe a civilization existed, after all. Tension relaxed…..a little bit, at least. As we continued our eastward drive, we encountered more and more houses. We could always stop and ask for directions now.

Fortunately, the GPS woke up from its slumber and pointed the way to a highway. By happy chance, luck or fortune was with us. It was the right highway…..the highway we would have been on…..if we had followed the route on the map. And…..as usually happens…..once the crisis has past, we laughed about it….joked about it….and tried to pretend that it never happened. And, in cases like this, I always quote Shakespeare: “All is well that ends well.”

Both of the nights we spent in California were part of the Memorial Day weekend….and both of the campgrounds were the busiest that we stayed in. And both of them, by far, had the most young people and children… Normal, since all the schools were closed for the long holiday weekend. As with most campgrounds, the people here were family people…..law abiding and quiet. And, again, we were the only people sitting in front of a campfire after the sun went down. True campers…..

The distance from the campground into Reno was only a couple hours’ drive. We quickly found Harrah’s Hotel and Casino….located in the heart of downtown Reno….and bordering on Virginia Avenue, the main drag or “strip” of Reno. This would be our home for the night. Harrah’s is undoubtedly the largest hotel that I have stayed in. And, of course, it is not only a hotel but a gambling resort, also. Although it bordered on Virginia Avenue, our entrance was a block away off a street whose name I don’t recall.

The check-in procedures are very streamlined, and in a short time we had found our room…..on the 11th floor….and were settling in for the afternoon and night. Like most other hotels in Reno and Las Vegas, the windows are covered with “blackout” drapes, intended to keep the room dark during the daylight hours so casino patrons can sleep during the day……and stay up gambling at night.

It was still early in the afternoon, and among the first things we did was to look for the hotel’s fitness center so Fayez could spend some time working out. While he was working out, I took advantage of the blackout drapes and took a nap. Upon his return to the room, Fayez also took a nap, so we would be rested for our night on the town.

During the daytime, Reno looks pretty much like any other mid-size city. There really isn’t anything special about it….visually, at least. During the daylight, it actually appears to be a rather shabby town…..at least the downtown “strip” does. Where there are not casinos and hotels…..there are souvenir shops, liquor stores, tattoo parlors, bars…..and pawn shops. Yes…..lots of pawn shops. In all reality, it is sort of a pathetic town. Sad to think that the pawn shop industry appears to be among thriving businesses. Sad to think that people are so desperate for money that they resort to hocking their possessions to get their hands on a little bit of money to flush down the drain at the poker tables, the black jack tables and the slot machines. One of the more noticeable phenomenons of downtown Reno is the number of boarded up casinos and other businesses that have obviously fallen victim to the recent recession of 2008 and before. They are ugly eye sores, and do nothing to enhance the appearance of the downtown district.

Fayez and I spent a good deal of the afternoon walking around the downtown area, just looking at the buildings, into the windows of the souvenir shops, and into the open-front gambling casinos. But, perhaps we spent most of our time people-watching. There was never a lack of human “drama” being played out on the streets and sidewalks of Reno. There were a remarkable number of strange people milling around the streets….even in the afternoon. This probably has no special meaning…..and I am not attaching any hidden meaning to it….but the vast majority of these people were not white, Caucasian people.

Most of the disputes or controversies or misunderstandings seem to be related to either a domestic problem…..a lover’s triangle…..or money. I say this only from general appearances and from hearing passages of comments as we passed by…..usually on the other side of the sidewalk!

If Fayez would have….and could have….had his way, we would have stopped and watched each individual fight! And probably would have taken pictures. And asked for autographs! Yeah….I suppose I was also just a little bit curious and intrigued about what the disagreements were about. But over the years, I have learned it is not a good idea to get involved in other people’s personal problems, especially domestic problems. And, I have learned that just because they are using a busy public sidewalk at the theater to act out their melodrama, they usually do not want an audience! It is better….and safer….and wiser…..more judicious…..to merely ignore situations like these…..and continue on our merry way. Or at least, to casually and discreetly watch from a safe distance. Actually, I had no desire to spend the remainder of our vacation in the hospital.

After walking up and down Virginia Avenue on both sides, we decided to return to our hotel room and wait until it was time to eat supper. A little relaxation never hurt anybody. It must have been 6:00 or so when we headed out in search of a place to eat. Actually, we had already made this decision…..even before we started out on our trip. We headed to Circus-Circus, where they have one of the most fantastic all-you-can-eat buffets that I have had the pleasure to experience. Wow…..there are more choices than one could sample in a week. So….when filling your plate, it is best be discriminating in what you choose. You simply cannot eat everything…..no matter how inviting all the food looks. And, sooner or later even the most determined glutton is going to reach his limit…..and there is still going to be food beckoning to be eaten. But….it is an affordable feast that should be experienced at least on rare occasions.

By the time we emerged from Circus-Circus…..full and satisfied….the sun was starting to set….and the lights along Virginia Avenue were starting to twinkle in the emerging darkness. Reno takes on a totally different aura at night. This is when the glitz and sparkle come to life….outshining and overshadowing the drabness of the daylight hours. The most traditional of the Reno landmarks is the sign arching across Virginia Avenue proclaiming “Reno….the Biggest Little City in the World.”

Despite all of its bright lights, there is little for the non-gambler to do except to look. And, in the downtown area, at least, gambling is the only game in town. Many of the cassino offer various forms of entertainment. But most of the “stars” are unheard of entertainers…..at least, not in the mainstream of today’s popularity. And….they are expensive.

After wandering the downtown streets I was puzzled by the scarcity of the traditional Reno “sex shops”. In times past……the far past…..15 or more years ago….these “sin” shops were among the most thriving businesses in the downtown area. As we walked up and down the blocks, it was immediately apparent that this was no longer the case. I had already told Fayez to expect to encounter a lot of such stores. Coming from Saudi Arabia, this was a totally foreign and alien concept to him. In fact, I think he simply did not believe me when I told him they existed. And, he was becoming more and more convinced of this when we didn’t pass any of them as we walked around.

I was baffled. I was almost certain that they still must exist. But…where? No, no, no….don’t get the idea that we intended to buy anything from these stores! Not a chance. But, I considered this to be a “cultural” learning opportunity for Fayez. Definitely something he would never find in his home country. In order to prove my point….and to prove that I was actually telling the truth….we resorted to the all-knowing Internet. We found ONE shop on Virginia Avenue (there were others, but not in the downtown area), and even this one was located a few blocks from the main casino sector.

Like I said….this was certainly not a shopping opportunity……but rather it was an educational….a cultural….a scholarly…..experience. As we entered the store, I could Fayez’s eyes get wider and wider! “Now just walk in and act normal…..just like you belong here,” I had told him. “Try not to act nervous!”

The friendly clerk greeted us cheerily and asked if he could help us find something. “No, we are just going to take look around.”

Fayez was eying he merchandise with both curiosity and amazement. “Just take it easy…… Act natural.”

Fayez started giggling. “No….no….don’t do that! I don’t want to get kicked out.”

I think Fayez understood fairly well the purpose and function of most of the various toys and “implements”. But…..please….don’t giggle! This is a “serious” place. Other customers were examining the merchandise with a critical eye…..no doubt considering and debating the pros and cons of each product. I was hoping that Fayez would NOT pick anything up! Let alone examine it critically.

Everybody in the store seems very comfortable and at ease…..except for Fayez and me. The friendly clerk asked us a couple more times if he could help us. Maybe we should have faked some interest in something…..but we didn’t. Or maybe I should have said, “I don’t need any help…..but way don’t you ask the Saudi Arabian guy! I think he wants to buy something.” But….I didn’t. We spent what I considered to be a “respectable” amount of time…..and then we said Goodbye to the clerk and left. No…..I didn’t buy anything; I left empty-handed. Sorry. But…..let me tell you about Fayez! No….he left empty-handed, too.

Outside, Fayez burst into laughter. But…..now he knew that I was telling him the truth…..that such stores actually do exist! But Alas! The Internet has almost destroyed another booming Reno business.

Upon conclusion of this exciting evening, we ended our brief sojourn in Reno….. And now we were ready to move from the land of “big money” to the land of “big families”……Salt Lake City…..Mormon country.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paradise Found……the Oregon Coast and Beyond Early on a Monday morning we again packed our belongings and got ready to continue on to our goal! The Oregon Coast…..Paradise. I was looking forward to the journey. I have been there many times. But, Fayez was a “Stranger in Paradise”…..and I was looking forward to showing him my concept of Paradise…..the vast, blue Pacific Ocean of the Oregon Coast…..just like the words of the 1950’s song says, “Take my hand….I’m a stranger in paradise.”

The campground at Hell’s Canyon was probably our favorite camping

spot so far.  It was set back in a green park, bordering the Snake River. Not only did we have a problem finding our cabin…..but when we finally did find it….it was locked! And no key…. We found a kindly old man….the Park Host…..who finally let us into the cabin….although he couldn’t find a key to give us. We were brave….and slept through the night with the door unlocked. No….this was no problem. The Park was basically deserted, giving plenty of freedom to sit in front of our camp fire and talk….without being disturbed….or worrying about disturbing others. In fact, after the sun set, we never saw our neighbors again. As usual, we were the only people actually “camping”….the only two people with a true sense of adventure….or the only two people foolish enough to consider starting a fire to fix our evening meal. Or maybe it was that we were the only two “poor” people there….and we were doing it out of necessity. But, mostly because this was what we wanted to do…..camp out. Fortunately, we were not attacked by any militant, right-wing mountain dwellers……and we woke up in the morning ready to continue our trip.

Hell’s Canyon is set in a dry, rather desert-like area. But, even so, the town of Lewiston, Idaho, is a beautiful little town…..clean, well-kept, green, attractive….with all the necessary facilities and services to make it a desirable place to live. As we talked later, Fayez said that this would be a place where even he would like to live…..high praise, coming from a Bedouin of the Saudi Arabian desert. And, really, if I were forced to live there….it would be an environment that I could readily accept. It certainly would not be as bad as some other places I can think of…..places teeming with purple wildcats, for example.

The drive through eastern Washington is always a nostalgic journey for me. If I happen to become homesick…..which I do not…..this part of Washington is the cure. There are vast fields of green stretching into the horizon. It is a testament to the gift of water….the power and value of irrigation. This semi-arrid land is brought to life by the use of irrigation, turning a fruitless, unproductive landscape into a fertile carpet of green wheat and soy beans.

The state of Washington is blessed with series of rivers which have been dammed up, not only to be used as a source of electricity…..but also as a means of irrigating the otherwise dry, unproductive soil. The green terrain of Washington differs from that of Kansas. Most of the land in Kansas is suitable for growing crops…..especially in the western three-fourths of the state. The the land in this area is flat….with only gently rolling hills…..compared with the higher, but manageable hills of Washington. In years of adequate rainfall, the land in Central and Western Kansas is highly productive and most of the land is devoted to grain crops…..or hay crops for feeling cattle. Land that is not ideally suited for growing food crops is used as grazing land for cattle. Huge cattle ranches…or cattle feed lots…. occupy much of this space.

The further West one travels in Kansas, rainfall and rainfall amounts tends to decrease. Irrigation is very common in these parts of the state, too. In years of severe drought, crops are vulnerable to failure….or, at the least, the yield per acre is significantly decreased. Even constant irrigation can’t make up for the lack of rainfall.

But, the fact remains: most of the soil in the western three-fourths of the state of Kansas is tillable or adaptable to some sort of agriculture. However, in Washington, much of the eastern section of the state is incapable of producing crops without the use of constant irrigation. There is a great contrast between land which is being irrigated and land which is not being irrigated.. The contrast between green and brown….crops and sage brush…..is immediate and striking. One side of a highway may be verdant and flourishing. The other side of the highway dry, brown and fruitless.

Coming from a desert country where crops grow only with the benefit of irrigation….and where the contrast between desert and fertility are in stark divergence, the landscape of Eastern Washington is familiar and commonplace to Fayez, who has a much better understanding of this phenomenon than I do. In addition to the thousands of acres of crops growing in this area, there are also thousands of cattle raised here, too. Unfortunately, there are no camels roaming the dry lands. But…..you can’t have everything, I suppose. Our highway curved to the south toward the Oregon border. The states of Oregon and Washington are separated by the mighty Columbia River which flows almost the entire distance between the two states….at least the entire length of I-84 which channels traffic into Portland on the western side of the state. Although the two states are partitioned by only a few hundred feet of water, each state has its own identifying characteristics. I wouldn’t say they are like night and day….but more like the rich uncle with the nice well-kept home…..with the lawn always green and abundant trees and attractive landscaping ….and the poor uncle (and that would probably be me!) with a front lawn that is …..well, not much. Never watered….no trees or attention to appearance.

At any rate, I-84 is bordered on the south….that would be the Oregon side…..with tree covered mountains and the robust Columbia River on the north. As we drove along, we watched the barges carry their cargo up and down the river.

About mid-way to Portland, along the Columbia River is a major hydro-electric generating facility. The Bonneville Dam is located probably 100 miles east of Portland. It is set in a lush park-like environment…..and the complex consists of a dam and three or four huge generator turbines located in a spotless building. I don’t know anything about generating electricity or how any of the equipment works…..but I do know that every time I visit this place, I am impressed. The dam is huge and noisy…..probably generating as much turbulence as it does electricity. The cacophony of sound makes it impossible to converse while standing near it. The turbine building, on the other hand, is relatively quiet and serene, considering the size of the turbines….and the maze of wires, pipes, meters, gauges…..and other mysterious paraphernalia scattered about the building.

Aside from the dam and the generating plant, the compound also contains a lock where barges and boats are raised and lowered as they float up and down the Columbia River. This, in itself, is reason enough for a brief stop over. Another of the interesting features found there is the fish ladder, which makes it possible for the salmon to swim upstream, bypassing the dam, to lay their eggs…..before dying. There is a series of ladders outside where people can watch the salmon…..and there is also a viewing area in the visitor’s center where the river channel flows past a glass wall. Both of these areas are interesting…although the outside ladders are probably the most exciting to watch. One cannot help but feel some sympathy for the poor salmon….probably not knowing this will be the last thing they will ever do. But, there is a fish hatchery, with thousands of little baby fish….teeming wall to wall with little fish….being raised to take their place. As I said…..I am certainly not a scientist….far from it, in fact. But I always find this place to be fascinating. I am more or less in awe of the magnitude of everything…. So….if I, with a completely non-scientific mind, find this to be interesting…..how much more fascinated would my friend and traveling companion, Fayez, be! Fayez, the scientific genius….4.0 GPA……student of all that is inexplicable and unknown…. But…guess again. Actually, Fayez found the entire situation to be boring…..and couldn’t wait until we left and pushed on to something bigger and better. Now…..let’s talk about who is the “scientist” and who is not. Hey, Fayez…..what do you say about that? Just saying…..

Almost immediately after getting back onto I-84, a scenic road heads off the Interstate and up onto a charming road with moss-covered mountains bordering on the south, and leafy old trees forming a canopy overhead.. Although the four-lane highway is only a few hundred feet below….this quaint highway is like being in another realm….far removed from the rest of the world and heavy truck-filled highway traffic down the mountain side.

At irregular intervals along this road are a series of waterfalls which cascade down the mountainside and into rushing streams that flow into the Columbia River. All of the waterfalls are clearly visible and easily accessible from the road. Trails lead to the top of each waterfall. Those who enjoy a leisurely, but vigorous hike, can walk to the summit of these falls on stone pathways. The journey can take anywhere from five minutes to a half hour, depending on the height of the waterfall. There actually is not a lot to see upon reaching the top….but it is exciting and refreshing to stand and watch the water cascade over the side of the mountain and plunge to the depths below.

 

In years past,  this was always on our “must do”  list. But….not this year. I have become frail and sluggish in my old age….of not just a bit senile…..so we had to content ourselves with taking a few pictures before moving on. And, anyways…..my desert-wandering friend was not as enchanted as I was……so we hit the road again.

Our magic wizard…the GPS…guided us expertly through Portland…..a city where the goal of highway designers is obviously to confuse people…..and in the past they have been successful in meeting this objective with me. But, today these crafty engineers failed….and soon we were heading south on I-5…..a route that I have never considered taking before. But, like Shakespeare said, “All is well that ends well”, and a few hours later we would gaze with wonder and awe out upon our objective…..the Pacific Ocean…..Paradise.

Some people yearn to live in the mountains; some in a peaceful green forest; some on a tropical island……and maybe a few people are homesick for the desert with camels roaming about. But…..as for me. Give me a home overlooking the dynamic Pacific Ocean…..the endless sea of blue….powerful….restless….relentless. With the sound of the never-ending waves pounding against the shore….peaceful, reassuring…..and sometimes ominous and sinister.

Here we are. Let’s get checked into our camping cabin and start enjoying this visual and sensuous paradise. Our accommodations have changed from a camping cabin to a Yurt. They are essentially the same thing….and serve the same purpose. Inside there is sleeping space for three or four people, along with a couple shelves and a couple straight back chairs. Outside, one will find the basic picnic table and fire pit. A paved path leads through the forest to the showers…..which are spotlessly maintained.

The main attraction of the Oregon Coast is…..yes, you guessed it: The Pacific Ocean. My primary destination on every trip I make to the Oregon Coast is Beverly Beach State Park. To me it is the premier camping ground along the entire Coast. It is a large campground…..with all the camping conveniences and amenities I could desire. But, the reason I like it is because of the almost endless stretches of sandy beaches…..for the most part largely deserted and unspoiled.

For a person who wants beaches crowded with humanity….people packed closely together with little privacy or personal space…..this is not the beach to choose. Around the organized campgrounds, of course there are people. People walking along the beach; people walking their dogs; kids building sand art in hopes that it will be washed away by the tides….and they will be……; people sitting on tree trunks that have been washed in by the ocean tides from who knows where; people sitting on the beach or in lawn chairs….simply watching and listening to the endless crashing waves; people in the ocean, swimming or trying to swim; people flying kites which easily catch the ocean breezes. (I had to say this…..because we were part of this group.) But…..yet there are no “crowds”. Community without intimacy. You still have your space.

Let’s talk about the water just a bit. Oregon is not Southern California. There are no days with 80 or 90 or 100 degree temperatures. And, the temperature of the water is not a Jacuzzi 80 or 90 degrees…….not even 70 degrees. In my experience, the temperature on the Oregon Coast rarely rises above the low-70’s, even during the hottest part of the year. And, it is even cooler than this a good deal of the time. The temperature of the ocean is usually somewhere in the brisk, refreshing mid-50’s or low 60’s depending on the time of the year. Probably your initial plunge into the ocean is going to be a rude awakening! If you are sleepy…..you are going to wake up in a hurry. The water is not “cold”; but it certainly is not “warm”. Don’t worry, the body adjusts to the temperature quickly….most of the time, at least, and it won’t be very long before you will be enjoying the refreshing experience. The Pacific Ocean is not a desert oasis.

While Fayez and I were there, the sky was mostly dark…..the horizon foggy….clouds hugging the tops of the mountains. But….I love this kind of weather…..and the mysterious, enigmatic atmosphere that it creates. Later on, as summer progresses, the skies become blue, and the sun shimmers off the ocean. The temperature doesn’t warm a lot…..but the atmosphere is brighter.

Fayez went running almost every day….sometimes through the campground and sometimes on the beach. This gave the old man an opportunity to check his e-mail…..and to take a nap!

Ah yes….another feature about Beverly Beach that I really appreciate is the fact that it is almost impossible to get lost on the beach…..no matter how far we wander from the campground. Entrance to the beach is gained by walking under a major highway bridge. This is especially helpful at night when finding the path from the beach back to the campground may prove to be a challenge. I already knew this from prior experience….from some hard-learned, nerve racking experience …..and Fayez was also convinced after spending a couple hours walking on the beach at night…..and sitting and listening to the ocean before returning to our campground in complete darkness on a cloudy night.

Up and down the coast, within easy driving distance are numerous photo-ops…..almost too good to pass up…..and we didn’t. Fayez and I took every opportunity to take pictures and to go walking on the endless deserted beaches. It is very difficult to refrain from taking pictures…..pictures of everything…..in fact, multiple pictures of everything. But….who cares? With my digital camera….pictures are free! It is not like the olden days when film cost a small fortune…..and having the film developed an even bigger fortune. Back in those day, one chose his shots carefully…..very carefully. I suppose I should take this opportunity to clarify a small point: When I said that WE took pictures…what I actually meant to say was that I, the old man, took pictures. But, considering which of us two possesses the artistic and aesthetic qualities and understanding……this seemed like the most desirable path to take. Actually…..I am not sure they even have cameras in Saudi Arabia! (He knows I am joking……I hope.)

Of course, the Pacific Ocean is the reason a person goes to the Oregon Coast. But, there are other interesting attractions and diversions, too. Beverly Beach is located a few miles north of Newport…..a major city…..or town….on the Central Coast. If you ever stay at Beverly Beach or one of the other nearby parks, don’t pass up the opportunity to spend some time exploring the quaint, picturesque Bay Front. Get there early in the morning when the fishing boats begin trickling in with their night’s catch. Fayez and I spent a morning walking around, looking at the jungle of tall mast fishing boats…..and watching busy confusion of the fishermen unloading their fish. Fat sea lions lounge on the docks and walkways, waiting for their breakfast to be thrown into the surrounding water. Talk about an obesity problem in our nation: These lazy sea lions have to be among the foremost offenders.

The boat docks are more or less open to the public….at least nobody tells you to leave. Fayez and I walked on the piers and looked into dozens of boats anchored there. Every boat has its own unique name painted on its side. The fishermen are busy and pay little attention to the tourists. I would certainly recommend that you stay out of their way and not obstruct their jobs, however. They look mean and tough…..and they are serious about their jobs. They are not the kind of men I would like to tangle with.

We looked for some “bargains” at the fish markets. But….don’t bother. There are none. Fish costs just as much….if not more…..in these markets than it does in a grocery store. But the atmosphere is alluring. The Bay Front consists of five or six blocks of docks, fish markets, and packing plants. But, it also has a diverse assortment of restaurants, coffee shops, souvenir shops and bars. Even if you do not intend to buy anything, your time will be well spent by browsing through them and looking at the unique mementos and art-work relics that are on display. Many of them are produced by local artisans….but I am sure that some of them were also made by “local artisans” who live in Taiwan or China or Thailand!

It was here, on the Bay Front, that I first got the inspiration of creating stained glass. I never bought any of it……but it did inspire me to create more than fifty pieces of stained glass of my own. It is the same for you…..who knows what kind of ideas you might pick up here. I think the only idea Fayez picked up was that he wanted to get out of there and do something more interesting.

If you are ever visiting Newport, Oregon, …..even for a day…..don’t pass up the opportunity to eat at Mo’s Seafood Restaurant…..easily one of Newport’s leading and most enticing eating places…..not to mention its serving the most delicious food in town.  Its specialty is its famous clam chowder….award winning and famous up and down the Oregon Coast. Normally, in the peak tourist season, we would have stood in line for thirty minutes before being seated. It’s that popular. But, the night that Fayez and I ate there was a quiet night. I was very disappointed…..and I know Fayez was, too…..that the clam chowder contains pork……so Fayez was not able to eat it. It was a real bummer….and I felt badly about it. But, he enjoyed another fantastic meal. Honestly….there are no bad meals served at Mo’s.  

 

We also  visited a local coffee shop where we relaxed on the front veranda and watched the bustling activity of the Bay Front. Fayez tells me that I ordered a bowl of Pho (with a little squiggly like over the “o”)……a Vietnamese soup that I ate often during the time I spend

in South Vietnam. I probably did. I am not doubting Fayez’s memory…..because I am sure it is a long one. And, if I did, I am sure I enjoyed it.

Our evening meals…..actually night meals…..were mostly prepared and eaten at our camp site over an open fire. These, it goes without saying, were the best meals of all. When Fayez cooks a meal…..you will never be disappointed. Of course, the delicious rice that I prepared in the rice cooker was good, too! And, as was our habit, after the meal was happily consumed and the dishes taken care of…….stuffed into a trash bag or burned in the fire…..we sat in front of the campfire and talked and laughed and argued and discussed until we could no longer stay awake.

The best place to buy souvenirs along the Central Oregon Coast is the little for-tourists-only town of Depoe Bay. It is built almost directly on the ocean and it is famous for whale watching, when whale watching is in season. The rest of the year, it is a delightful, pleasant place to browse through souvenir shops, drink a cup of coffee….or use the public restrooms! The entire little town consists of four or five blocks of business assembled along the east side of the street opposite the ocean. Fayez took the opportunity to buy some souvenirs of the Oregon Coast to take home to his family. I took the opportunity to buy a kite for Fayez in one of the local kite stores. This would turn out to be probably the most fun my little desert-dwelling friend had on the entire vacation. .

No story is very good without some conflict and drama. There wasn’t any conflict. There never is when Fayez and I are together. But….fortunately…or unfortunately…..there was a hint of drama…..or what will have to suffice as drama…..for this trip. We were at our camping space in Beverly Beach….finished with our day’s activities and ready to prepare our supper….eat it….and then sit and relax for the remainder of the evening. At some point, Fayez went to the car to get something from it. It was locked. “Can you give me the keys?”

Feeling my pockets, I replied, “I don’t have the keys. Are you sure you don’t have them”?

“No…..I don’t,” he replied.

This set off a flurry of frantic activity….searching for the missing keys. We looked into the pockets of everything we had worn that day: shorts, shirts, jackets….. In fact, we did it multiple times, just to make sure we had not overlooked them. They were not in any of our pockets. We searched the Yurt….the desk, the beds, the floor. No keys. We looked on the picnic table; we looked under the picnic table….in all of the boxes we had taken from the car. They were not there. We started looking on the ground around the car…around the picnic table…the side walk from the car to the cabin. No trace of them. By this time, the sun was setting, and it was starting to get dark. So….we got the flashlights and continued our search.

By this time, a hint of panic was starting to set in! We had only ONE key…there were no extras that we could depend upon. We knew that the one place the key could NOT be was in the car. Fayez’s car can only be locked from the outside. If the key had been locked inside, we could have found a way to open the door and retrieve the key. Not a simple thing….but, at least, a possible thing.

Both of us had flashlights and were walking slowly around, with our heads down, looking for the keys. I am sure we covered every square inch of our camping space. “OK,” I thought. “Tomorrow morning we will have to call a locksmith….or the automobile dealership…get the serial number of the key….and have a new key made.”

That solution would have delayed us for several hours. But, it was better to be delayed for several hours than to spend the rest of our life living in the campground at Beverly Beach…..over 1800 miles from home. Trapped in Paradise! Well….now that I stop and think about it….maybe that isn’t quite true! Fayez and I could have become beach bums….and lived happily ever after, without a care in the world.

“Did you check all your bags? I asked Fayez.

“Yes…..and they aren’t there.”

Out of boredom….or desperation….I also looked into MY briefcase. AND….drum roll….and a big sigh of relief…..there were the keys!! The precious keys. The drama was over….my blood pressure started to inch its way down a few notches. We would no longer be trapped in Paradise.

Fayez admitted rather sheepishly that he had dropped the keys into my briefcase by mistake…..not looking to see which one it was. After all….both of our briefcase are black. But….aren’t almost all briefcases black?

Even though we booked our campground about six months in advance, we were able to stay at Beverly Beach for only three nights because the other nights had already been reserved by other early-bird campers. Yes…..it is a popular campground and you had better make your reservations early! So….the morning of our fourth day, we move about fifty or six miles north to Nehalem Bay State Park, just outside the small sea side village of Manzanita.

Manzanita is quintessential ocean side village…..weathered houses with nautical yard art. Weather beaten business housing a variety of grocery stores, restaurants, bars and souvenir shops…..all built on a few blocks bordering the ever-stretching ocean beach. During the tourist season, you can bet that most of the people who frequent these businesses are tourists who have come to camp, body surf, fish, hike….or just kick back, relax and smoke a few joints of marijuana.

In all reality, in a contest to name the better beach…..Beverly Beach State Park or Nehalem State Park….I think that we…..both Fayez and I…..would choose Nehalem State Park. The beach at Nehalem State Park is more “urban” than Beverly Beach State Park. It is located at the edge of the village of Manzanita…..and is bordered by architecturally unique beach homes. And, because it is located near both a large campground and a town with plentiful vacation motels and rental cabins, it, of course, has more people on the beach. But, even with this increased number of people, it is far from crowded. There is plenty of space for everybody.

Its setting is more dramatic, also. Not only is is bordered by private beach houses (one of which will be mine someday….after I win Powerball) and motels and condos……in places the forest-covered mountains descend to join the beach, forming a sort of gentle half semi-circle arch to the north of the beach. There are dramatic rocks jutting up from the ocean, too….which adds to the beauty. As is the case with Beverly Beach, the wide, sandy, uncluttered beaches seem to stretch to infinity both to the north and to the south. The only serious fault that I can find with this beach is that it is one of the few beaches on the Oregon Coast that is open to vehicle traffic…..but only a portion of it….I think.

From our campground the beach was accessible……but only by walking a pathway over a steep incline. Fayez investigated…..and he advised me against trying to climb it. As usual, I took his advice and never attempted it. So, the only access I had to the beach was by driving in our car to a beach entrance at the edge of Manzanita. But, this was entirely satisfactory for me.

Both times we went to the beach were in the late afternoon. By this time, the skies were cloudy….hanging low over the ocean and forming a smoke-like fog over the tops of the low mountains. This gave the ocean an aura of mystery and intrigue. Some people may not like this weather. They may prefer blue skies and bring sunlight reflecting off the ocean. Yes…..this is also good. But, I like the dark, mystical, fog-shrouded weather best.

It was here on the beach that we had some of our best fun….and most memorable minutes. This was certainly true for Fayez. Remember the kite I bought for him back in Depoe Bay? Nehlaem Bay beach proved to be the perfect setting to fly it. We passed many delightful minutes watching the kite catch the ocean breezes and soar high above the beach. After some trial and error……and some cooperation between Fayez and myself…..Fayez quickly acquired the knack of kite flying and was merrily content in guiding the kite high over the ocean and campground.

We spent a fun-filled hour or two flying the kite. My assignment was to assist in launching the kite. Fayez was the captain and navigator. I was the cheerleader….the gallery….cheering him on to higher and mightier heights. I was also the official photographer. I took more pictures of this single event than of anything else on the trip. It was a satisfying and lively experience. Who knew that kite flying would be so much fun? Kite flying is an activity out of my long-ago childhood…..when we made kites out of newspapers and balsa wood….or whatever was available. But this kite was no simple, home made kite. It was a large, colorful triangle….with a long tail streaming from behind. And…..yes…..I took a turn at flying the kite on the misty coast of the Pacific Ocean. As a child we flew our kites over the wide open spaces of Central Kansas…..and I can visualize Fayez flying his kite over the vast, sun-drenched sandy expanses of the Arabian desert. On this day, the kite flying championship went to Fayez…..with me coming in a distant second place. But….in terms of fun……we both scored big points.

Probably the only other memorable event was our trip across the bridge over the Columbia River into the state of Washington. The bridge is more than four miles long….the longest bridge in the Pacific Northwest. It was an impressive experience for me….and for Fayez, too. Let’s face it…..there are not a lot of four mile long bridges in the state of Kansas…..and probably not in Saudi Arabia, either. However, once we reached the Washington side, there was not much to do except take a picture of the Washington state welcome sign….take some pictures of the bridge…..and head back over the bridge to our campground.

We probably didn’t stay long enough in Nehalem Bay State Park….or in Manzanita. But….there is always “next time”…..and there surely will be.  Because this is…..Paradise.

 

Say Good-bye to Yellowstone.   As I am sure my fellow traveler, Fayez Alruwaili, would say, “If you have seen one geyser, you have seen them all.” Or….maybe “This bison looks exactly like that bison.”

At any rate, we actually both enjoyed the natural wonders of Yellowstone National Park….and now it time to move on….to the West….toward Paradise. Before embarking on another long journey of lonely highways through green forests and tall mountains, we considered it prudent to perhaps change the oil in the car….or at least buy some oil which could be added in case the oil was running low…..which it most definitely was.

It was a Saturday morning….Saturday morning in the busy tourist town of West Yellowstone, Montana.   A town where thousands of tourists arrive and leave every day of the summer.   A town where all of the tourists arrive….and leave…..in an automobile.   Of course, most of these automobiles are in good running order…..problem free.   But, we are also going to assume…..and probably correctly…..that a goodly number of them have problems….or develop problems….while their owners are visiting the Park.   And…let’s face it…..automobiles do not know what day of the week it is.  They have not been programmed to only break down or need attention only on five days a week.   Bless their little engines…..they can….and do…..need attention on any day of the week….and at any time of the day.

When a person is at home,  he simply waits until Monday and takes the car to a mechanic…..or he takes it to Wal-Mart, which will repair a car almost any time.   Or you can call a buddy.   You know….the one who is a mechanic or knows something about cars.  Well….let me tell you: If you are in West Yellowstone, Montana, you are out of luck. You can be assured that there is not a single mechanic to be found on a weekend.   We found this to be almost beyond belief. In a busy tourist town?   With cars in all states of repair and dis-repair.   What a missed opportunity.   What a gold mine for some enterprising mechanic.   Weekends are like any other day to the tourist.   All of the restaurants are open.   All of the gift shops are open.   All of the bars are open.   All of the service stations are open.   All the grocery stores are open.   But…..try to find a mechanic and you are out luck. So…..to be on the safe side….be sure to caution your car not to break down or need any sort of attention…..because you are not going to get it.

Fortunately for us, we were not faced with a life-changing crisis. But….yet, it was a crisis of a sorts.  The oil in Fayez’s car was getting low…..and we needed to add a quart.  Of course…..this is a minor detail that either of us could take care of by our self.

No need to change the oil…..we would simply buy a quart of oil and add it to the engine.  But, there was one major problem: What grade of oil should be added?   Fayez did not know.   And, of course, neither did I…..after all, it wasn’t my car.   So….we made an executive decision: We would get the oil changed. It would soon need to be changed anyways.

We searched West Yellowstone for somebody to change the oil.   Of course….we didn’t find one.   They probably all belong to some sort of oil-changers union.   We finally found a guy in one of the service stations who told us that he knew of a garage that was open on Saturday morning……but it was about thirty miles away.  Faced with seemingly no other choice, we headed toward the little town…..knowing that we would be forced to relinquish a major part of our sightseeing day.   Oh well….you do what you have to do.

A couple miles into our unfortunate journey….one of us…..and to avoid an argument,  let’s say it was Fayez….suddenly saw the little sticker which the mechanic always places in the window after changing the oil! Wow…. a sense of relief….and embarrassment….overtook us.   We turned the car around and drove joyfully back to West Yellowstone where we bought a couple quarts of oil and poured them lovingly into the crankcase.   Oh well….it was early in the morning…..and we had not had our cup of coffee yet.

It was time to leave Yellowstone and continue our search for Paradise. Yellowstone is nice…..but it is not Paradise.

Early on Sunday morning, we pointed our GPS toward the West….west to Idaho and the scenic Bitterroot Mountains.   Before we turned west, we first had to drive north to I-90, which crosses southern Montana into Idaho.  The drive from West Yellowstone to I-90 is a rather unremarkable experience….mostly more semi-arid land and rolling hills with snow-covered mountains in the background.   This drive gave Fayez and me the chance to reflect on our impressions of Yellowstone.

To be honest, I really have no strong feelings in favor of one part over the other: geysers vs water falls; water falls vs. Lava Hot Springs…..   If I were forced to choose my favorite sites in the Park, however, I would settle on the Hayden Valley….the vast stretch of green land a few miles south of Canyon Village. This is a peaceful valley with rivers and streams meandering through it. It is uncluttered by forests or geysers or mineral formations. It is an ideal place to sit and reflect….on anything you feel like reflecting about. In the first weeks that I worked in Yellowstone back in 1989, I used to drive my pickup down to the Valley, sit and listen to my favorite cassette tapes and watch for wild animals which find this an ideal place to graze.

The other feature about Yellowstone that greatly appeals to me is the animals….whether it be the bison or elk or moose….or bears.   Once, when I was out driving early one morning, I came up a baby elk and its mother….a baby that was probably born only minutes before I arrived….one who could barely stand on its own feet. An awesome sight.

Fayez?

Well…..I think he preferred the mountainous area of the north loop….an area where one drives for perhaps thirty or forty miles with no “attractions” such as geysers, hot bubbling springs or water falls.   It is a scenic drive through sweeping mountain vistas, of forests and wide open valleys which stand out in contrast against the mountainous background. It is an area less traveled, less popular, than the rest of the Park…..by no means isolated, but certainly not an area which you will find crawling with scurrying, inconsiderate Japanese tourists.   Perhaps this is sufficient reason in itself to like it.

Fayez, like me, found the Hayden Valley to be a peaceful and appealing diversion from the sometimes frenetic activity of the major tourist attractions. I think it is safe and accurate to say that Fayez does not find the wildlife in Yellowstone as fascinating as I do.   Some people are animal lovers….some people are not. Fayez is not.   If I had been driving, I would have stopped to take pictures of almost every wild animal we saw.   Well…maybe not every buffalo…..but certainly every elk, every moose, every bear….although we didn’t see any bears. In all probability, if I hadn’t yelled, “Stop” when I saw a wild animal, I would have left Yellowstone with no wild animal pictures at all!  It is too bad that Yellowstone doesn’t have a few camels!   Wow…. I would have left with a hundred pictures of them.

At any rate….there we were making our way up to I-90, so we could cross over into the state of Idaho. Like so many of our drives, this one started out rather remarkably.   There are the usual rolling low mountains, the sage brush…..the vast blue skies: the Wild Montana Skies, as John Denver would say.   Of course, Montana is know as “Big Sky Country”….because there is nothing to obstruct the clean blue dome overhead….and because the sky is blue.

There is an important difference that contrasts the journey through southwest Montana to the route we drove through central Wyoming. Yes….there is sage brush.   But, here are vast stretches of green grass, probably thanks to extensive irrigation.   Although this is not an area which produces an abundance of grain or row crops, such as wheat, corn or soybeans….these hundreds of acres provide valuable grazing land to hundreds….probably thousands…..of cattle in the summer time…..not to mention the fact that they are a significant source of hay.   The grass is cut and baled into thousands of bales of hay…..and they are a critical necessity to supply the cattle with food during the long winter months.   Maybe this not the land of true cowboys….but it is without a doubt a more favorable area to raise cattle.

As we leave I-90 and turn on to Idaho Route 12, the scenery starts to change.   We pick up the Lochsa River, and we will follow it halfway across the state….the highway and river side-by-side.   For miles, the river flows lazily along, taking its time….in no hurry.   As we follow Route 12 deeper into Idaho, the forests become more dense….almost impenetrable…..the massive pine trees almost hugging the highway on our right….and the never-ending river on our left. It is a visual masterpiece. It has started to rain by now. Not a heavy rain…..but a steady, relentless rain that makes the afternoon gray and foggy.   If this is a lonely highway when the sun shines….it takes on an added element of desolation and gloom when it rains.  The clouds are concealing the tops of the mountains….wispy and thin.   Sometimes there even appears to be smoke arising from the distant forests.   But, we know there is not.   Only clouds…only rain.

The rain and the clouds and the gloom don’t dampen our spirits.   We are in the midst of nature as it should be….untouched, wild, natural, uninhabited….except by the wildlife that Mother Nature intended it for.

Beware….don’t start this journey without filling up with gas.  The towns are few and far between…..and even then, they are not really “towns”….but more like a wide space in the road, as they say.   And, don’t depend on your cell phone to call AAA.   Because of the mountains and the isolation from society, your cell phone is not going to work.   Maybe, if you are getting your signal from a satellite things will work out.   But, if you are depending on a tower…..forget about it.

We have found some scenery that Fayez really likes!  The mountains, the river, the forests, the rain…..   Nothing like Saudi Arabia!   Maybe he could drive all day in these surroundings and never get bored with it. It is a peaceful, laid-back drive.   We stop at irregular intervals….get out….take some quick pictures….and then continue on our way….pressing on toward Paradise.

As the elevation starts a gradual, barely imperceptible decline, the speed of the river picks up.   What was once a placid ribbon of water is rapidly becoming more volatile.   The white caps become more disturbed.   The noise level increases to a crashing crescendo within a few miles as the river cascades and churns it way down the mountain. This is perfect for those foolhardy people who would pay hundreds of dollars to risk their lives at white water rafting.   I say that because I do not know how to swim.   I am not at all sure that even a heavy duty life jacket could protect my life in this raging river.   On the other hand, Fayez knows how to swim.   This would probably provide a real adrenalin rush for him.

There are no white water rafters on the river today.   It is raining. It is too cold.   We confine our activity to taking pictures.   And, even those pictures are hurried ones….because it is raining.   And, the rain is cold. But inside the car, our spirits are high, the conversation never falters. This isn’t Paradise….but it has to be somewhere in the top five.

It is not uncommon to hear of militant groups….separatist groups….who set up camps in these rugged and isolated forests in the mountains of central and northern Idaho.   If this is actually true….it is easy to see that they have picked the perfect place to carry on their clandestine activities with secrecy and privacy.   It doesn’t take much imagination to understand why one could live virtually without being detected for months….even years….in this secluded and remote region.

Actually we have no idea where we are….well, we do….   But in terms of miles or time or distance…..we could be a million miles from nowhere. As we descend from the mountains….leave the river to find its own way home…..and say good-bye to the green forests, we approach what turns out to a real town…..the city of Kamiah.   We stop, fill up with gas, get a bottle of energy drink, and inquire how far it is to Lewiston…..our destination for the night.   We are closer than we think.   That is encouraging.   Plenty of time to find our campground….plenty of time to rest before it is time to fix supper…..for Fayez to fix supper!

Ahh…..back to the delicious meals cooked over an open fire!   They are delicious.   And it has been a while since I have eaten one.   This is one of the joys of camping out….even if it is in a camping cabin.   After we arrived at Hells Canyon Campground, just outside of Lewiston, Idaho, we got our stuff unpacked…. we got the Internet working….  Yes, they actually had an Internet connection. It was still rather early…..two or three hours until it got dark.   So I took a nap while Fayez went for a run.   This became a familiar pattern…..pull into our campground, get the camping gear unpacked, set up the Internet….locate the showers and restrooms…..   And then I would take a refreshing nap while Fayez went for a run around the area.   Usually Fayez ended up taking a short nap when he got back, too.   Then he was energized to fix a tasty meal.

Contrary to the way it may sound, I also helped with the meal.   We brought our rice cooker….and an extension cord.   And, I was in charge of cooking the rice…..an easy, but important job.   And, who says I don’t know how to cook?

Doing dishes was a minimal task…..paper plates, plastic spoons, cans of pop or bottled water…..paper towels as napkins.   Our only dirty dish was the rice cooker.   Come to think about it….this is the way I cook at home, too!

This trip has been billed as a “camping trip”….but tonight is the first night we will actually camp.   Camping, for me, at least, is not what it used to be.   Back in the “olden days” when I was younger,  I slept under the stars;  I slept in a tent;  I slept in the back of my pickup.   All I needed was a sleeping bag…..and I was in good shape.   On the very first trip I took to the West Coast, my traveling companion and I would find a place off the road….maybe near a river or stream…..and simply unroll our sleeping bags and go to sleep.   The next morning, it was not unusual to wake up covered with morning

dew that had condensed on us during the night.  Oh well…. No big deal.   At least, we had a good night’s sleep.

But, those days are in the distant past for me now.   No longer do I have any desire to sleep on the ground.   No…..now we rough it by sleeping in a camping cabin.   Almost every modern campground has them.   They are pretty basic:

 just a couple beds, a heater and/or an air conditioner…..maybe a couple shelves and a couple chairs….although these two items are pretty much optional, depending on the campground.   But, at least, we are inside, off the ground, away from the mosquitoes, with a semi-comfortable bed to sleep on.   We still have to take our own linens….but that is a small price to pay for such luxury.

The real joy in camping, however, comes from a roaring campfire.   We have a grilling basket…..a wonderful device…..in which we cook our food directly over the fire.   Fayez is a master chef when it comes to outdoor cooking.   And I happily eat whatever he prepares…..chicken, corn, potatoes, hot dogs….and, of course, the rice that I cooked.   It is all good.   After the evening meal is finished and the dishes are taken care of……put into the trash container…..and the rice cooker washed out….we can kick back in front of the fire and relax from the day’s journey.

Often we are the only campers who are sitting outside….or who have a fire…   The others are in their expensive RV’s….probably watching satellite TV.   But, we are the lucky ones.   We are the ones having fun. I don’t know…..is sitting in a comfortable RV really camping?   Or is it merely a portable motel that a person pulls behind them as they travel?   But, we are happy to have the night to ourselves….the campfire flickering…. and often the coyotes howling in the distance.

We sit and talk….and discuss….and argue….often struggling to keep our voices down.   We have done this before…..although it was in the middle of winter!   How much more interesting can it get?   Fayez is from a different country….a different religion….a different culture….different viewpoints.   But, what makes it work is his sense of humor, his invariably optimistic outlook, a smile that never fades, his kindness, his loyalty…..and our mutual respect for each other.   Now don’t tell me we don’t have some thought-provoking, raucous discussions.   And….just think…someday this guy will be my doctor!

But, our brief visit to Hells Canyon State Park is coming to an end. Now we must press on toward Paradise.

 

“All my bags are packed. I’m ready to go……” The Hyundai was packed…..and packed almost to capacity…..with all the assorted things we would need to lead a semi-comfortable life roughing it in KOA campgrounds for the next sixteen days. Our clothing, of course…..enough to last at least eight days, the halfway point. The two comfortable camping chairs….the kind that fold up into an easily portable package. The cooler…this time with dry ice instead of regular ice….Fayez’s idea. And the utensils and equipment we would need when preparing our meals. Fayez Alruwaili arrived the previous afternoon. All of the stuff was piled in the front room waiting for him to arrive with his Hyundai. With everything ready, packing the car was a piece of cake….as they say. The only thing remaining to buy was the dry ice…..a good excuse to go to Topeka to eat…..sit in Weller’s Bar and Grill for a while…..and stop by Dillon’s to pick up the ice before returning home. I have taken dry ice before…..several years ago when Sebastian and I took this same journey in 2002. We walked into the now defunct Food-4-Less store in North Topeka and asked a guy if they sold dry ice. He disappeared into the back room and returned a new minutes later with some chunks of dry ice wrapped up in some paper bags. “Here you are,” he said. “Will this be enough?” “Yeah….it should be. How much do we owe you?” “Nothing…..just take it. It comes with frozen food.” That was what? Twelve years ago. Things have changed. We walked into the Dillon’s store after we left Weller’s to buy some dry ice. It obviously was not going to be free this time. The dry ice was located in a regular vending machine in the front of store. The vending machine clearly warned….”You must be at least 21 to buy dry ice.” And…..the vending machine was locked! With a padlock. The security guard….of all people….came over to us, as we stood there contemplating what to do. “We want to buy some dry ice,” we told him. That set off a chain reaction of activity. Nobody seemed to know who had the key….or even where the key was located. Obviously, they did not sell a lot of dry ice…..and especially that late at night. After some scurrying around, the person with custody of the all-important key was located. And, I, being a few years older than 21, was allowed to buy some dry ice. We left the store with our dry ice…..and also a few questions. Why is the dry ice locked up? Why do you have to be 21 to buy it? Why was it so difficult to find a person to unlock the ice chest? Why didn’t they take a mug shot….or my fingerprints. “OK, let’s be in the car….and pulling out of the driveway at 6:00 tomorrow morning.” That was our unanimous agreement….both of us. “OK….wake me up at 5:30,” Fayez asked me. “OK. I am getting up at 5:00.” Now….let me say, it is never I who has problems getting out of bed in the morning. I am out of bed the minute my eyes open. Sometimes I have a problem waking up the other person….but never myself. I am dependable….on time….prompt….. Thursday, May 15, rolled around….early. I opened my eyes, looked at the clock…. Wow, I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was already 5:30…..after 5:30, in fact. I was almost in a panic. I jumped out of bed….almost literally….rushed to the bathroom to take a (very) quick shower….got partially dressed…..turned on the light in Fayez’s room….shouted for him to wake up…… It was pretty obvious that we would not be driving out of the driveway at 6:00! Finish getting dressed….a quick breakfast….last minute stuff to pack into the car….. It was close to 7:00 when we were finally heading down 130th Street toward the Ferguson Road….. We still had to stop and fill up with gas….. Fayez grabbed a couple cups of coffee and a couple rolls while I filled up the car…… We are more than an hour late now. Oh well…..we will drive fast…..not stop unless absolutely necessary…..and make up the time. Finally we were on our way….heading to Holton to meet up with Highway 75, which would essentially take us up to I-80 in Nebraska. But not so fast……When we got to Holton, Fayez casually said we should stop and put some air in one of the tires because it was starting to get low. No problem….there is a service station at the corner where we would turn to get on Highway 75. But….of course…..there was a problem. What looked like a major problem. The cap on the valve stem would not come off. And, yes….the tire was getting very low. Low enough that it would not be safe to start out on a major trip. We finally located a garage that was open and explained our problem to them. You know…..I am constantly amazed at how kind people are sometimes. They stopped what they were doing, drove the car into one of the bays to take car of the problem. But….again….not so fast. They were also not able to get the cap off the valve stem. In the first place, it was some sort of proprietary part, put there by the tire retailer….and second of all, it appeared to be rusted on the stem. The solution? Lift the car up….cut off the valve stem….and replace it…..after repairing the leak, of course. Not really a major problem….unless you are already a couple hours behind schedule. There was no other choice. One of the “good” tires also had the same sort of valve cap, so they replaced both of them. They charged us…..of course. They weren’t that generous or humanitarian. But, at least they didn’t said, “Bring it back this afternoon at 1:00 and we will take care of it.” And, I can imagine that both of us must have looked rather pathetic and disheartened…..and they merely took pity on us. About 8:00 we were finally on our way…… We put our problems behind us, and looked only to the exciting sixteen days ahead of us. A couple minor setbacks were not going to ruin….or even dampen…..our fun. A couple problems were only something to be laughed about later. Our first stop…..Laramie, Wyoming. Fortunately, there is not much to see between here and Laramie. Our main objective of the day was to drive through Nebraska as quickly as possible. I know this is not going to make the people of Nebraska happy……no more than it pleases the people in Kansas to have our state referred to as a vast wasteland….and merely a hardship to be endured on the way to Colorado. As we drove along, I saw the vast stretches of land as more than an obstacle in our path to Laramie. When a person looks out over the thousands of acres of green crops growing in the springtime….wheat, corn, soy beans, milo….and providing grazing land for thousands of cattle and other livestock…..it is difficult to escape the realization that in a few short weeks….or months….this is the food that will feed our country. This will be the hamburger that will later be known as Big Macs…..or the flour that will become Duncan Doughnuts…..or egg McMuffins. This will be the food that will feed the people of Los Angeles….Las Vegas….Disneyland….New York City….. This will provide the food for the nation’s airports….national parks….roadside cafes….and exclusive restaurants of the nation. True…..we were not tempted to stop the car to take pictures of the crops growing in the fields….or even the cattle grazing on the grasslands. But, to write off the highways of the mid-western states, such as Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota shows a profound lack of appreciation for their value and importance and their significance to our nation….and to the world. Which can you give up? Eating…..or gambling? Surfing? Theme parks? For me, it certainly is not going to be eating. We stopped and took pictures at all eleven of the signs as we entered the various states. But, other than that, I had told Fayez that the only thing worth stopping to take a pictures of between Valley Falls and Laramie was a huge sculpture of Abraham Lincoln’s bust somewhere on the north side of I-80 in Nebraska. It makes a good picture….and it is a worthwhile place to stop, get our of the car for a few minutes….and stretch our legs a little bit. I am not really sure if Fayez knew who Lincoln was….at least, until I told him. But, to have a statue that large, one knows that he must have been somewhat important. Almost immediately after we turned on to I-80 just outside of Lincoln, I began to watch for the statue. We had driven well into the afternoon….and I was still looking. We were approaching the Wyoming border….and still no sign of the statue. I was almost sure that it had not been taken down. I mean….what why they? Even the Tea Party couldn’t get away with that. And, anyways, it was much too big. I told Fayez that I had obviously missed it….let it slip past while we were talking. Oh well….it is really not a tourist attraction. Just something interesting….and photogenic….and a chance to stop and rest for a few minutes. We crossed the border into Wyoming, and I stopped looking for the sculpture. We continued to drive west toward Laramie….our destination for the night. Suddenly I looked out the car window…..and there was the statue of Lincoln….perched upon a hill on the north side of I-80…..in Wyoming….not Nebraska. (Personally, I think somebody moved it just to confuse me!) So….we made our first official “tourist attraction” stop…..long enough to take a few pictures…..go to the restroom (never pass up an opportunity!)….and to stretch our legs. Ahh…..a feeling of both satisfaction….and embarrassment that I didn’t remember where the statue was located. But….somehow I doubt if I will ever forget its location. After an exotic meal at Subway, we spent a couple hours visiting with one of my old high school classmates. We spent the night in the KOA Campground, and on Friday morning we packed up and headed toward our first major destination….Yellowstone National Park. The highway from Laramie to Yellowstone National Park cuts through Wyoming from southeast to northwest….maybe a six or seven hour drive, if you keep pushing it. As the highway heads out of Laramie, it is easy to “push it”. The landscape is the same as it was yesterday when we finally arrived in Laramie, rather worn out….and maybe just a little bit bored from the unchanging landscape of sage brush and low hills covered with scrubby trees…..a semi-desert, in my opinion, although Fayez would be quick to disagree. The landscape is dotted with entrances to ranches…often with fancy archways with the name of the ranch written on it…..ranches which you cannot see because they are set far back from the highway. This is land where a home may be as much as thirty, or forty, or fifty miles or more to the nearest town. It is not the kind of location where you jump into your car to drive into town to pick up a loaf of bread. I can imagine that a careful housewife plans her shopping list very carefully before she heads into town….and that town may be more of a village than a real town. School children are picked up early by their school bus….often while it is still dark outside….and dropped off late. A wise student could probably finish most of his homework while on the bus…..and many probably do. A lucky student will own his own transportation…..probably a pickup truck. And, if he has younger brothers and sisters, he is no doubt their “school bus”….whether he likes it or not. Here in Northeast Kansas, our high school athletes are accustomed to a thirty minute bus ride to their opponent’s school….except on rare occasions when the trip may be further. Parents get off work, eat their supper….and then head out to watch their child play. Can you imagine what it would be like if your opponent’s school is one hundred or more miles away? At the very least, there is going to be a lot of missed school time….and a lot of late nights….and sleepy mornings. As we drove along, these are the sort of things we speculated about. Would I like to live in such a rural, isolated location…..the answer is NO. And, that is the answer that Fayez gave, too. It takes a special person to live there…..probably someone who was born there and have lived there all their life. This is “home”. This is “normal” for them. And, I am sure that many of them like it that way. But….and I can’t prove this….but I can also imagine that many of them leave and go somewhere else as soon as they graduate from high school…..looking for green pastures. As we continued toward the northwest, the elevation became higher…the hills began to transform into small mountains. But….it was still arid land….land that would probably require at least thirty or forty acres to support one cow. No wonder the ranches are so huge. But, we also began to see rivers and streams flowing through the land. We could spot these rivers a mile in advance…..the landscape changed from brown to green and back to brown…..almost magically. Streams of living water in the desert. Around noon or one o’clock, we passed through the picturesque town of Lander….a welcome bit of civilization. A grocery store…McDonald’s…..Dairy Queen….motels….service stations. It is a summer tourist town. A welcome stop after the miles of semi-barren land….miles and miles of land. But…..it not big enough for a Wal-Mart. Sorry. After a short, but refreshing stop in Lander, it was back to business again. But, not before we prepared and ate our tasty lunch. We had an assembly line process in place…..Fayez made the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches….and I made the sliced meat and cheese sandwiches. After a few days, we got the process down to perfection. Once the sandwiches were prepared, it was on to our next major stop: Dubois. A real wild-west town…..fake, to be sure….although I am sure the surrounding area is populated with many ranchers. On a trip several years ago, we stayed in a local motel. The next morning we went to a cafe for breakfast. There were several ranchers also eating breakfast….all of them dressed in blue jeans, cowboy hats and cowboy boots. And also a deputy sheriff….also with his cowboy hat and cowboy boots…..and a pistol strapped to his belt. We couldn’t help but overhear their conversation…. They were talking about some cattle that had been rustled the previous night. We felt that we had walked into an old Roy Rogers movie! Dubois was another welcome stop. It was an opportunity to fill up with gas and buy the food we would need for the next couple days…..and pay a visit to the nearest restroom. Prices were already high….much higher than we pay here at home…..but they were inexpensive compared to what we would have paid in Yellowstone. We had spent a long morning of driving through the semi-arid spaces of southern and central Wyoming….. This land is probably not a desert in the classic meaning of the word…..but yet it is dry and unproductive. Fayez kept looking for camels…..but he had to settle for cattle instead! As we drove along, we enjoyed the landscape….as much as you can enjoy miles and miles of seemingly unsettled land. As the miles rolled by, Fayez and I were so occupied in our conversations….and laughing….and joking…..that the time was far from boring. As a matter of fact, the time slipped by quickly…..although I use that term in a relative manner. At fairly irregular intervals, we would spot what appeared would make a good pictures. At the earliest opportunity, we would pull over….usually into the entrance to a field….get out and take pictures. Sometimes, just a picture of the long, endless highway makes one of the best pictures we took. As the Oak Ridge Boys say in one of their songs: “The highway goes on forever.” Beyond Dubois the scenery begin a subtle change….slowly merging the endless hills covered with sage brush into an almost imperceptible rise in elevation…..and the steady emergence of trees that gradually morphed into forests. Finally, we were approaching the Grand Tetons National Park. The Tetons jut up from the landscape like the teeth on a saw…..snow-covered and barren, for the most part. With the mountains in the background, and the meadows, the forests and the lake in the foreground, they are an invitation to take pictures….lots of pictures. After a while, a person starts to realize, “I am simply taking the same picture over and over again.” Ah…one of the benefits of being a senior citizen. As we pulled up to ticket booth at Grand Tetons National Park, I whipped out my senior citizen Golden Pass….a little card that admits me and my companions to enter the park free of charge. This little plastic card cost $20.00…..and it has paid for itself many, many times in the past eleven years since I officially took on the status of “senior citizen”. It entitles the owner admittance to all national parks, national monuments…..and almost anything else operated by the United States government…..along with selected state parks, too. If you are not already a senior citizen……hurry up, so you can get one of these. Yellowstone National Park….what can I say about it that probably already hasn’t been said a millions times before? Probably nothing. OK. One thing I can say was that this was the first time Fayez had been there….obviously. And, I was hoping that it would live up to my advance advertising campaign. It is probably true to say that a person’s first visit to Yellowstone is always their best. This may not always be true…..but there is nothing like seeing a geyser or a bubbling mud volcano or the yellow walls of the canyon….or the spectacular water falls…. or a herd of bison…..or sitting and waiting for Old Faithful to erupt…..for the first time. I had already been to Yellowstone perhaps twenty times; in fact, I worked in Canyon Village for three months one summer back in 1989. Geysers and bison are nothing new to me. The one thing that stood out for me on this trip was the amount of snow! We entered the south gate, and on our way to the Loop Road, snow was piled up seven or eight feet on both sides. I arrived in Yellowstone about the same time in 1989…..and the only snow that I saw was on the mountain peaks. It was obvious that Canyon Village, where I worked, had been drifted shut until very recently. The parking lot had been cleared to make space for the cars to park….but there were mounds of freshly piled snow which covered the entire parking lot. Dunraven Pass, up north of Tower Falls, the highest road in the Park, was closed because of snow drifts. This was the point of a major annoyance….not to mention inconvenience. It would have been considerate for the park service to post signs at the major junctions leading up north around the Loop: “Warning: Road Closed Ahead”. Instead, the chose to spring it as a surprise about one mile from the spot where the road was actually closed. After forty miles of driving, our only option…except to utter a few unkind words….was to turn around and retrace our route. Forty plus forty equals 80 miles! The only advantage was that Fayez got a chance to look at the scenery twice. By this time, he had stopped looking for camels, though. What did we do while we were there? We walked some of the boardwalks through the geyser basins, looking at the almost surreal, barren landscape of mineral covered earth with steam or bubbling water or bubbling mud rising out of the ground. We saw too many water falls to mention by name….except for the water falls of the Yellowstone Canyon, where the Upper and Lower Falls paint a spectacular picture as they cascade down the Yellowstone River. We saw an abundance of wildlife….bison, elk, moose, eagles. And, we saw thousands of annoying Japanese tourists scurrying around like little insects….acting as rude, annoying and inconsiderate as they usually act…..walking through camera shots….hogging the best camera view while each one of them had his picture taken….multiple times…. Motioning for other to step aside so they can take their picture….. I have thought for a long time what every national park should be closed one day a week….and open only to Japanese tourists. That will be their day at the park…..and leave the other six days so normal tourists can enjoy it. Oh yes…..we also saw Old Faithful…..but only barely. We arrived at the site of Old Faithful….and it is almost impossible to miss it. It is usually fairly easy to tell when the famous geyser is about to erupt. Old Faithful is the only attraction in the Park that has its own grandstand…..two or three rows of wooden benches which form a ninety degree semi-circle around the geyser. When it begins to fill up with people, this is a good sign that the geyser will erupt soon. When we arrived, there were virtually no people there….a sign that it would be a while before the next dazzling performance. Old Faithful erupts at intervals of about 65 minutes or so. With time on our hands, we started walking the boardwalk trail out into the Old Faithful Geyser Basin. As we started walking, we heard two women talking….and breaking one of my rules…..I overheard one of the women say to her companion that Old Faithful would erupt again at….I don’t remember exactly….but let’s say 4:00. It was only about 3:10, so we had plenty of time to walk slowly, take pictures, and make it back to Old Faithful with time to spare. We made it back to Old Faithful, took a seat on the front row bench to wait for the water show. And we waited….and waited….and waited. Apparently I had been somewhat gullible…..and I was being rewarded for listening in on other people’s conversations. We had obviously gotten there too late….although more and more people began to filter in and take a seat. After thirty or thirty-five minutes, the geyser started belching out small spurts of steam and water…..sort of a prelude to the main event….like it always does before it erupts. Suddenly, however, the skies opened up, and we here being pelted with hail stones….assaulted by Mother Nature…..the same Mother Nature who had created Yellowstone in the first place. This was no gentle rain…..it was a serious “I am going to get you.” hail storm. Hundreds of people immediately ran for shelter…..leaving only the old, the sick, and the weak behind. And…..yes, I was one of those people! After a few minutes of debate and consideration, Fayez and I it would be wise for us to head for shelter, also. So….as briskly as we could….and that was not very brisk….we made our way to the near-by Yellowstone Lodge….although the word near-by is completely relative in this case. All the time, the hail continued to pound us. If you have ever been caught in a hail storm, you probably already know that hail can hurt! Sort of like having somebody throws little stones at you…..and all of little rocks hit you! We sat in the main lodge, which is a spectacular site in itself….constructed entirely of logs…with giant tree trunks holding up the roof and the 360 degree balcony or mezzanine. After a few minutes we saw people leaving. Apparently the storm was over….it passed as quickly as it had come. We left, too. Just as we rounded the Lodge to head back to our car, Old Faithful began to erupt. We quickly began to take pictures. Not exactly front row seats…..but certainly within perfect camera range. We got our pictures of Old Faithful, after all. It must has been Mother Nature’s way of saying, “I’m sorry about the hail.” And, we accepted the apology. Our two nights in West Yellowstone were unremarkable. We defied the motel rules and fixed our supper in our room. We sneaked the rice cooker into our room and dined on steamed rice, topped with mixed vegetables and picante sauce. The motel didn’t burn down, so we felt somewhat vindicated by the wanton disregard for motel rules. And….we had our choice: eat in our room….or spent twenty five or thirty dollars eating in one of West Yellowstone’s many restaurants, And, that would have been one of the cheap ones. Our brief sojourn in Yellowstone National Park was coming to an end. Fayez seemed to be more impressed by the vast mountain vistas, by the water falls, and the Hayden Valley than he was in the geysers and the mud volcanoes. I think he enjoyed seeing the buffalo and the other wild life….but not nearly as much as I. Maybe he just isn’t an animal person. And, let’s face it…..Yellowstone doesn’t have any camels! Without a doubt, the foremost thing that you must see is “Beryl Spring”…..an awesome sight….one that you will carry in your memories for years to come. Seriously, though…..Yellowstone was an awesome experience….for both of us. Do I hear somebody asking, “What advice can you give to somebody who is visiting Yellowstone for the first time?’ Good….because I am going to give you some. Try to spend at least two days in the Park. It is a huge place. Don’t be one of the “stop and shoot” tourists….the kind who leaves the car running, jumps out, takes a pictures….and then drives on to the next stop. Even if you can spend only ten or fifteen minutes at each of the natural features, it is better than none at all. Turn the car off, get out, walk around, take some pictures. At least, you can say that you were really there. Better yet….if you have the time….and if you are physically able….walk some of the paths….get as close to the geysers, the water falls, the canyon as possible….while still obeying the rules and regulation of the park. If there are explanatory signs….read them. They will tell you a lot about the park….and how it was formed. Take a lot of pictures….but remember….you are not the only ones wanting to take pictures from the best spots, so be courteous and quick. Do you thing….and then let other people have their turn…. do you hear that, all of you Japanese? And, obey all the signs….the rules and regulations. They are their for a purpose: to keep you safe, and to preserve the park for future generations. OK. Now it is time to pack our stuff into the car….and move on to those “wild Montana skies” and our next destination.

My recording of “On the Road Again” is safely packed away….ready for another adventure at another time. Now I have dug out my copy of “Hey, It’s Good to Be Back Home Again”. (Thank you, John Denver!) There will be no more adventures for another few weeks….or months….

And, I even hesitate to call the latest trip “an adventure”. Things simply went too well. No problems. No drama. No melodrama. No complications.

From the time we pulled out of the driveway early on Thursday, May 15, until we unlocked the house again late on Friday, May 30, the trip was nothing but a pure delight…..uninterrupted pleasure…..complete enjoyment.

Probably all this praise sounds a tiny bit excessive…..a little bit too good to be true. Well, OK…..maybe I have gone overboard just a millimeter or two. But, nevertheless, it was an almost perfect trip. And perfect trips are not easy to write about. It would be much easier…..and maybe more interesting…..to write about problems, obstacles, and conflicts. I mean…..Let’s put some drama into this. Let’s make it sound intense, dramatic….and maybe even somewhat dangerous.

OK…..maybe I can make some up or invent a few nonexistent situations as I go along. But, mostly, I will stick to the facts.

Fayez Alruwaili….my regular guest from Saudi Arabia….and I took off on a 16 day trip to the Oregon Coast and back…..and to many points along the way. To call Fayez a guest is probably not quite true. I first met him through a foreign hospitality exchange during the Christmas season of 2012. He….and another guest from China….came to spend the five weeks vacation between the first and second semesters. The afternoon that he arrived, I knew the minute I met him that I was going to like him. Now…speak of a tense afternoon….that was one of them.

Fayez was scheduled to arrive at my house around 3:00 P.M. or so. The student from China was already there. I had told Fayez that I would send him detailed directions on how to find my house. NO….he didn’t need them! He had a GPS. He would have no problems finding my house…..he had a GPS! And….the implication was….his modern technology was far superior to any directions I could give to him…..or any map I could draw for him.

Three o’clock arrived……No Fayez. Nothing unusual. Nobody arrives at the exact minute they think they will…..except me, maybe. Then….it was 3:30. Still, no Fayez. “I wonder where he is?” But….it was nothing to be concerned about. He probably got a late start. Kids have a poor concept of time. Four o’clock. Probably heavy traffic. Or maybe he is simply driving slow. He is probably nervous driving all by himself. Four-thirty! Come on now…..drive a little bit faster. Five o’clock!! Where is he? Is there a problem? Has something happened? Five o’clock!!! Things are getting tense. He should have been here a couple hours ago! What should I do? What can I do?! Call the police? What do I tell them? I don’t even know him. Five-thirty: the telephone rings. It is Fayez. He is lost! Thank you…..trusty GPS! “OK…..Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you ask somebody? Everybody in Valley Falls knows where I live.”

“What is your address again? ……Oh, I had the wrong address!”

“OK…..I will wait at the corner for you.”

It is dark outside by now.

I put on my shoes…..my coat…..grab the keys to the car…..and set off to the corner to intercept him….or meet him. About halfway to the corner, a black Hyundai goes whizzing past me. I slam on my brakes….turn around in the middle of the road….and head back to stop him. I already know that my address is wrong on the GPS. Yes….he has already driven a half mile beyond my house.

We finally meet….in the middle of the road. Fayez gets out of his car, with a big smile on his face…..just like nothing unusual has happened. I knew then I was going to like him.

And…..he has made my home his home ever since….whenever he has breaks or vacations. Now, however…..he more or less knows where I live.

I tell this not only as a way of introduction…..but also to explain why the topic of a GPS has been an on-going source of (good natured) controversy between us ever since.

Getting back to the trip.

You may be asking….or maybe you aren’t…..how can any trip that covers 4600 miles, lasts 16 days, with 10 different destinations….with the same two people sitting side by side…..be pulled off so smoothly? Something has to go wrong…..sometime.

Let me, as a self-proclaimed master planner, give some advice on how to manage a stress-free and problem-free trip. First of all….All the reservations for campgrounds and hotels were made months in advance. We could walk in, reservation sheets in hand…..pick the keys to our cabin or room….already paid for…..and start relaxing. I have learned this lesson the hard way over the years……having experienced the disappointment and panic of seeing “No Vacancy” signs hanging in windows or on neon marquees. What do do? What could we do? Drive on to the next town and hope for the best……and many times pay a premium price for our stay. I have never had to sleep in my car or pickup in some Wal-Mart parking lot…..but I have pulled into campgrounds late at night with only enough time to go to sleep! And, I have paid exorbitant prices for left-over rooms that nobody else could afford. Now, all this kind of stuff is taken care of far in advance. It requires some advance thought…..and some commitment. But, believe me….it pays off.

Second: Make a detailed list of everything you are going to need on the trip. The more detailed, the better. The day before you are ready to leave…..get the list, start collecting the stuff into a central point…..and check it off as you go. If you do this, there is no last minute “panic packing”; no frantic rushing around, trying to remember all the things you must take….with a hundred thoughts cascading through your brain at the same time. Of course, if you forget something….and it is really necessary….you can always buy it somewhere along the way. Ca-ching….ca-ching….. There goes the vacation budget….and when you get back home…..you now have two of them.

Yeah….it is probably going to seem like a fairly large stack of junk….but that “junk” is going to be valuable when you pull into a campground and start using it. Take only what you know you are going to need. Don’t be tempted to take something because you think “you might need it”….because, chances are……you won’t. Then is really does become “junk”.

Third: When reserving campground or motels….make the distance you drive each day reasonable and realistic. When we drove from Valley Falls to Laramie, WY, we planned for a long, tiring day. We wanted to drive as far as possible…..and as it turns out, there are very few reasons to stop along the way. Get gas. Yes….that is a good reason to stop. Go the restroom….another good reason. Although always combine this with your gas stops….whether you need to or not. Don’t be like the little kid, who says, fifteen minutes after leaving a service station….”I have to go the to bathroom.” At this point, you have two choices: Stop at the first rest stop you see or the first service station you see……or…the second choice: Well, let’s not even talk about it. And, as for me…..rest stop were very welcome places.

Also….remember that when you finally get into “vacation country”….where there is actually something to see…..you will want to stop and look….and take pictures….. This takes up time. Plan for it! You didn’t go on vacation just to desperately try to make it between two widely separated arbitrary points before the sun goes down. You are on vacation to relax…..to stop and enjoy the scenery, to take pictures that will remind you of the fun you are having…..or maybe even to do a little bit of exploring. You’ve heard the expression, “Stop and smell the roses.” In this case…..stop and smell the sage brush….or the forests…. Or just stand and sniff the air for a while. Surely you are going to smell something….

If you take the attitude…..”Hurry up. Drive faster. We are never going to make it before dark.” When you do arrive, you are going to be worn out….probably in a foul mood….and asking yourself, “Where am I? What did I see today?”

“Hey…..let’s download our pictures and look at them on the laptop.”

“Oh, yes. I guess we don’t have any pictures. We didn’t stop and take any.” Are we having fun yet?

That brings me to the fourth suggestion. Take your camera with you…..and takes lots of pictures. Pictures of everything. Take lots of pictures of the scenery….and of your traveling companion(s)…..and yourself. No, this is not being vain. This is how you are going to remember your vacation in the future…..five….ten years from now. These are the pictures you will share with your grandchildren. (No, I am not suggesting that I have some grandchildren hidden away somewhere!) But, in the age of digital cameras, there is really no excuse for not taking lots of pictures. They are free! They don’t cost anything. And, later on you can always delete the ones you don’t want. You know….the ones with the stupid expression on your face….or the ones you took of your foot. In the care of Fayez and me, I took more than 1500 pictures. Fayez? I don’t know maybe 15. But, I didn’t mind. I am probably the best photographer.

I have been traveling for many years. In the “olden” days, it was expensive to take pictures. You had to buy the film…..and then you had to have the film developed. And, even worse….and this was my problem….have the slides developed. Of course, back in those days, I was careful to plan my shots carefully and take pictures of only the bare necessities…..and then only ONE shot. But, now I can….and do…..take hundreds of pictures. Pictures of everything. One….two….three…. It is a luxury that I do not hesitate to take advantage of. “Hey, Fayez…..smile for the camera.”

My fifth suggestion…..and maybe I am getting a little picky now….is to do some advance planning on meals. Where are you going to eat? What are you going to eat….and where are you going to eat it? Are you going to eat all of your meals “out”? If so….no problem. There is no need to take any sort of food or cooking utensils with you……only a lot of extra cash.

As for Fayez and me……we decided prepare most of the food ourselves……that we would eat breakfast in our camping cabin…..raisin bran, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and coffee. So…..we took along our electric water boiler….a couple boxes of raisin bran, some instant coffee, some peanut butter, some jelly, and some bread. …….And….plastic spoons and knives and forks. And, disposable paper bowls. Who wants wash dishes while on vacation? Not me. I don’t even like to do them when I am at home. And, artificial sugar for me. And…..paper towels. Don’t forget this. They are going to be one of the most valuable things you take. Cooking while camping can get messy sometimes.

This may sound like a lot…..but it really isn’t…..and there is more to come yet! The milk will keep for two or three days in a refrigerated cooler. The other stuff fits easily into a plastic storage container…..or two…..or three.

For lunch lunch, we were perfectly satisfied to eat a sliced meat and cheese sandwich and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We even had the division of labor planned in advance. Fayez was the peanut butter and jelly chef…..and I was in charge of the sliced meat and cheese…..and the mustard (for me) and the catchup (for Fayez.) We had as assembly line operation working for us……and the result? A gourmet meal for every lunch.

Supper was a no-brainer. Fayez loves to cook over an open campfire. And, I love to eat whatever Fayez prepares over an open campfire! A winning combination. Even in this case, it required some advance planning. We brought along a campfire grilling basket…. one of our more valuable possessions. We brought a double-pronged hot dog stick. And, we brought along our rice cooker. Why our rice cooker? Because we both like rice, I suppose. And, because it is versatile. Rice can be eaten with so many different foods. It was a very wise decision. We used it often. Cooking is not allowed in the camping cabins. No problem……we brought along our own extension cord, which reached from inside the cabin to the picnic table outside. See? Just a little bit of advance planning can pay off in a lot of ways. We could have probably opened a mini-restaurant in each of the campgrounds and sold food to the other campers. Yes….it was that good.

The final ingredient to a successful trip? Maybe this is the most important factor of all of them……pick a good traveling companion(s). Everything else can go right….but if you do not have a great traveling companion….the entire trip can be misery. Just think: that person will be sitting less than a foot from you for the entire journey…..whether it is one day…..or one month. I don’t even want to think about the suffering and torture of spending that long with someone I don’t like…..or can’t get along with.

But….for me: That was definitely not the case. One of the greatest joys of the trip was spending time with Fayez. From the time we left my house until the time we arrived home, it was one continuous party. First of all….Fayez is a good natured, sympathetic, social person…..and he is smart. We never ran out of things to talk about.

I said he is a social person….that he is. But, he is also funny, even silly, at times. And, he loves to tease. In fact, some times, he is relentless! There was more than one time that I felt like kicking him in places where it would really hurt a man! But…..I also know that if he didn’t like me, he wouldn’t go to such lengths to make my life miserable! No….not really miserable. Well, now that I think about it…..maybe sometimes. And….Fayez and “take” as well as he can “give”. And, I probably wasn’t entirely innocent myself when it comes to teasing…..although a little more innocent than he was!

Both of us have a very wide range of interests. And both of us are willing to listen. We certainly do not agree on everything…..but we listen and respect each other’s opinions. Who wants to be with someone who always agrees? A constant “Yes” man. Lively discussions are interesting….they are informative….they are challenging…..they are fun.
I learned long ago to always keep discussions and conversations like these at the “discussion” stage….and never let them escalate to anything more serious. Both of us have mastered this lesson. Such discussions….even though they may sometimes look somewhat heated….always end with a smile….. Time to go on to the next subject!

Another important prerequisite for a good traveling companion is patience….or at least, tolerance. Ask Fayez…… He will probably tell you that he possesses more of this characteristic than I do. I don’t know…..maybe so. Often I am not the most patient person in the world…..but I am tolerant. Actually, this combination can work out well. One person taking the cool, “don’t worry, everything is going to work out OK” approach; and the other person (me) with the “come on, let’s get this done” or “why doesn’t this stupid thing work” approach. It’s all a balance.

Whatever all the components are…..they seem to work. As we discussed the trip and tried to think of some conflicts or problems or dramatic moments to write about…..neither of us could think of even one. And….that is the way it should be.

It is better to spend most of the time laughing and being silly than it is to be arguing and fighting.

Oh yes…..one more thing. And, the credit definitely goes to Fayez for this one. It was his suggestion….and a good one. So….chalk up one point for Fayez! It is far better to take dry ice than it is to take ordinary ice. Dry ice is infinitely neater…..no messy water to ruin food. No water to pour out in some inconvenient place. Dry ice is colder….and thus keeps the food cooler. Dry ice lasts longer.

I know….you are saying….”Where in the heck am I going to find dry ice?” Take my word for it….it is available. You may have to search a little bit….but it is available. It may cost just a little more…..but it is available. We had no problem finding dry ice….and neither will you. Given the choice…..I would always prefer dry ice.

Just a caution…..or warning….. Dry ice may be deadly to your health! That is what a friend of mine warned me. I had never heard this before….and quite frankly, I was skeptical. But as his reasoning went…..and I suppose it is probably true….. Dry ice is pure carbon dioxide. As the dry ice evaporates….or whatever it does…..it replaces the oxygen in the air…..and potentially a person could suffocate or “drown” because of this.

Well….I don’t know if this is true. I have used dry ice before….but we have always kept the cooler in the back of my pickup. But, since suffocating due to carbon dioxide was not part of our plans on this trip…..we decided to exercise caution and keep the cooler in the trunk of the car. No point making risking it…..and making some people happy to be reading my obituary…..and saying, “Oh well….he is seventy-five years old. He has lived long enough. And…..why didn’t he have enough sense to put the cooler in the trunk?”

There you go…..my plan for a near-perfect vacation. It works for me.

Next time……we will really be “On the road again.”

“Well…..you young people have it so easy today. Back when I was young……”

Have you ever dug way back into your memory and tried to come up with your very first recollections of your childhood…..indeed, of your existence? Probably not…..unless you are trying to prove a point to some young person. And, even then, it is probably exaggerated…..or somewhat embellished with a little bit of fantasy. You probably have more interesting things to do with your time. And, if you are young…..your life doesn’t go back that far anyways. A lot of your childhood seems like yesterday.

Maybe I just have too much time on my hands…..after all I am retired. Or perhaps the older one gets…..the more nostalgic one gets. That would make an interesting study for somebody to conduct….maybe a good PhD dissertation. Now that I think about it, maybe I should have done it. And, maybe it isn’t too late.

I have a book of questions that I often use when I am taking a long trip somewhere in my car with friends or acquaintances. They are supposedly thought-provoking questions that are designed to help time go faster. Well, actually, they can’t make time go any faster…..it only makes it seem like it does.

One of the questions that one will inevitably find among these pages is just that: What is your earliest childhood memory?

Yeah….the younger a person is, the easier it is to come up with an answer. Most of that sort of stuff is still rather fresh in memory……sort of in the index of their mind….or maybe the table of contents. For older people…..OK, I will say it: For Old people…..the answers are not always so easy to dredge up. Maybe it sort of like the difference between seeing an object in the shallow end….the kiddy end…..of a swimming pool, and seeing an object in the deep end of the pool…..and, in my case….the very deep end!

Looking back into those foggy reaches of my childhood, it is impossible not to marvel over all the changes that have taken place in the past seventy-five years. My world today has very little resemblance to the world I grew up in. Radical changes have taken place. ….some of them for the better and some of them for the worse. And, I can imagine that children who are living today will say the same thing when they are 75 years old.

But first…..to those first childhood recollections.

Two events stand out…..but it is impossible to assign an exact date to either one of them…..which one came first and which one followed. Or…..who knows? Maybe they happened on the same day! Although I doubt it.

When my mother did laundry, I am sure she didn’t want to be bothered. I can recall that she put kitchen chairs down on the floor…..laid them down, turned then length-wise…..to form a barrier so neither me or my younger brother could get into the kitchen where she was doing the laundry……and bother her. This may not sound like much a barrier….much of a challenge…..but for a little boy of my age and size, those chairs must have seemed like mountains. I am pretty sure they achieved their intended purpose…..keeping us out of the kitchen and out of her way so she could get some work done. In this case, the laundry.

The second memory…..which is even more vague….but something that I still clearly see…. is my play pen. I don’t remember being in this pen…..probably about 4 feet by 4 feet…..very often, though. The play pen was put up in our living room about nap time…..a time that I used to dislike very much! There were some toys, a blanket and a pillow. I could play with the toys until I got bored….and that is when I must have given up and fell asleep. And, that is where I stayed until I woke up from my nap. At least, that is the way I remember it.

Back in those days, I remember strenuously resisting taking a nap. It was one of my least favorite things to do……but I had no choice. Wow….how things have changed! Today, taking naps is one of my favorite things to do. Nobody has to ask me twice to take a nap. And, it is something that I have gotten very good at over the years.

This memory was triggered recently by one of my former German students. He and his wife are having their first child soon. He told me they had bought a “cage” for the kid. “Wow,” I thought, “that isn’t very nice. That can’t be true.” After asking some questions about the “cage”, I finally figured out that they had also bought a play pen for their forthcoming child. It looks like some things have not changed over the years….at least, in that respect. I wonder if their child will dislike the play pen as much as I did.

Many times, I have considered hiring a hypnotist to help me delve back into my early childhood to recall other such incidents……and I still might. But, contrary to what many people think….and how is it usually portrayed on TV and in the movies…..hypnotism is not a very exact science. It is very unreliable. Just like we have selective memories about our present lives……we also have selective memories stored in our sub-conscious minds. According to all that I have learned, we tend to arrange our thoughts and memories in a very self-selective…..and maybe even a self-serving…..way. I still may go ahead and do it, though.

Even though I cannot remember a lot of specific incidents, there are many things that I do recall…..and recall very vividly. It was an exciting time for many rural people. We were beginning to move into the “modern” world, with the addition of conveniences that made our revolutionized our lives and made them easier.

For example, I remember when we first got electricity installed! Wow…..what a difference that made in our lives. I can still recall the days when we used kerosene lamps…..and battery powered radios…..had no refrigerator…… All of that changed with the advent of rural electricity. We had no refrigerator…..or Frigidaire as we called them. We had a wooden “ice box”. It was a refrigerator-like contraption. The top opened up to accommodate a 25 or 50 lbs. block of ice. In turn, the ice kept the contents of the ice box cool…..or semi-cool. I can remember making trips to the ice plant on a regular basis to pick up a block of ice. The ice was then wrapped in burlap bags…..gunny sacks, as we called them…..and taken back to the house to be put into the top-loading ice box. We had an ice-pick which we used when we wanted some ice for a drink…..something I learned to use at a very early age. And, believe it or not…..I was never taken to the emergency room with life-threatening injuries. But, there may have been a few Band-Aids along the way.

On a typical Saturday night, my uncle and aunt would come to our house, and we would all sit and listen to the “Grand Old Opry” on the battery powered radio……to the dim light of kerosene lamps. That is probably where I developed my life-long love of country music. Except that “country” music was different back then. It was real country music. Hank Williams, Roy Acuff, Cowboy Copus, the Carter Family, Minnie Pearl, Little Jimmy Dickens, Bill Monroe, Ernest Tubb……just to mention a few.

They also listened to radio news programs….and this would have been at the very end of World War II and the years that followed, when Harry Truman was president. Although this was a time of great relief for the American people…..it was also the period that many problems began to surface with the threat of Joseph Stalin, the USSR and communism. It was also a time when the United States committed to rebuilding both Germany and Japan, while maintaining temporary control of the two nations. And, because of the vastly increased civilian production, it was also a time when labor unions were flexing their muscles.

Be that as it may…..but as a child I remember listening to such radio newscasters as Fulton Lewis, Jr., H V. Kaltenborn, Lowell Thomas, Edward R. Murrow, Gabriel Heatter, and Walter Winchell….among others. Some of these guys were probably legitimate newscasters…..such as Lowell Thomas and Edward R. Murrow. But most of them were cheerleaders for either the Right or the Left…..conservative or liberal. They were sort of the Fox News of the Golden Radio Age…..not so much news as there was very biased commentary. And, believe me…..unless my memory is really failing me….they were very much as self-absorbed as many so-called commentators are today.

Of course, back in those days, I really didn’t understand what was going on. Although, it was easy to assume from their conversations that my parents and my uncle and aunt were both very much opposed to Roosevelt…..and very much opposed to Truman…..and very much opposed to Democrats in general. And….need I add? Very much opposed to communism.

Like a lot of children, I adopted my parents’ political views. I was pretty much of a Republican through all of my youthful days. Fortunately, however, this political attitude only prevailed during the years when I was too young to vote…..the years when it really didn’t matter. That was back in the days when I didn’t know any better. I was satisfied to follow the family tradition of voting and supporting and thinking all things Republican.

For some reason…..and I really can’t put my finger on it….my political philosophy underwent a rather radical change when I reached adulthood and actually started to vote. Yes….and I am almost ashamed to even say this….I voted for Richard Nixon in my very first presidential election. This was in 1960 when he was running against John F. Kennedy. But, as I look back on those years, from a perspective of history, maybe this was not such a bad choice. True……Richard Nixon turned out to be a crook. But, on the other hand, John Kennedy turned out to be a philandering, adulterous, self-entitled, privileged, somewhat immoral person…..a person certainly not above using family money and family connections…and maybe even mob connections…..to advance his career. However, this was the last time I ever voted for a Republican for President. Oh yes…..I have voted for Republicans for other state and national offices…..but never for President.

But…..getting back to the point. From the my earliest memories the radio has played an important role….both in entertainment and information. Radio was the “TV of the mind….of the imagination” for my generation. Of course, there was no television….that didn’t come until much later…..but that didn’t hinder us. We were very adept at forming mental pictures in our mind and imagination of the stories and programs we heard on the radio…..whether they were comedy shows and murder mysteries. And, believe me when I tell you…..some of the mystery and detective programs had me terrified and scared half out of my wits when I was a kid……but I still turned them on the next week to hear them again. And, from my earliest days, my dream was always to be a cowboy like Gene Autry or Roy Rogers and ride the range in the Old West fighting outlaws and delivering justice to the oppressed.

Let’s go on to another of those great changes in my world. Running water! Water that was piped into our house…..but even then only to the kitchen sink. It wasn’t until we moved off our rural residence and into town that we had “indoor plumbing”……a euphemism for an indoor bathroom. Before we had water piped into our house, we had a well outside our back door…..and that was our only source of water. We pumped it….using an old-fashioned (by today’s standards, at least) hand pump. Spring, summer, fall and winter…..that is how we got our water: water for cooking, water for laundry, water for bathing, water for drinking. If we wanted or needed water…..there was one way to get it: pump it. I really have no idea whether the water was tested. I seriously doubt it. Back in those days all rural people had a well…..and I don’t think anybody ever thought about subjecting it to any sort of test…..although I could be wrong about this.

At first, as I said, we had water only in the kitchen. And that became our source of water for cooking, for laundry, for…..well, you get the idea. So…..when Mother needed to wash our clothing…..which was often…..she filled large pans with water, heated it on the stove and poured it into the washing machine. (And laid down the chairs to keep me and my younger brother out!) When we wanted to take a bath…..which may not have been as often…..we filled large pans, heated the water on the stove, and poured it into a large….or semi-large…..metal bath tub. But…..at least, we didn’t have to go outside into the freezing winter cold to get the water. However, in the summer time, I suppose we could have gone outside and stood in the rain! And, when we wanted a drink of water…..presto! We turned on the faucet and filled a glass with water…..instead of dipping it out of a bucket….which we had to pump, by hand, out of the ground. It may not seem like much……until your water supply is shut off for a few hours…..or a few days…..and then you begin to understand just how important it is to have a ready source of running water.

Today we take water for granted. We turn on the faucet….and there it is. We can take a shower any time of day or night…..to get clean, to relax. And we can stand there with water streaming down upon us….singing…..until the hot water tank is empty. No problem. We wash our clothes whenever we want….or whenever we let them stack up to the point that we run out of stuff to wear. We brush our teeth…..and usually let the water run while we are doing it…..and think nothing of it. It is too much of an inconvenience to turn it off…..and turn it back on again.

Go back to the days when you used water sparingly…..because the only water you had was what you pumped out of the ground……by hand…..and you may realize what a revolution this made in our lives.

The last last of the major developments that revolutionized our lives was the telephone. Yes….maybe this device wasn’t as basic as electricity or running water……but it sure was a lot more fun! Especially when a person lives in a rural area, away from all his friends. Stop and think about how many times you have said, “I don’t know how I can live without e-mail……or Twitter…..or text messages.” And, most of us have said it, whether we want to admit it or not. It keeps us within constant and easy touch with everybody around us. Well, this was how we felt about the telephone when it was first introduced. How did we ever get along without it? I no longer had to walk….or ride my bike…. into town to talk to my friends and relatives….I didn’t have to write a letter and wait a week for a reply. All I had to do was to pick up the receiver and make a simple call. But, I also recall that long distance calls were expensive back then……costing more than $1.00 per minute. As a child I didn’t dare make a long distance telephone call without permission of my parents……which, by the way, was never granted!

Maybe one of the good things about the early telephone was that we didn’t…..and couldn’t…..carry it around with us everywhere we go. We couldn’t whip it out at the most inconvenient and inappropriate times to check for calls…..or to send a text message….or whatever people do when they seem to be staring incessantly at their smart phones. Telephones were large….very large, by today’s standards…..and they were mounted on the wall. Each house usually had only ONE of them. Ours was located in the dining room. You could not make calls directly. You always had to go through a “telephone operator”, who would ask you, “Number, please?” Our first telephone number was something like 57OM (and that is the letter O….not the number Zero). And…..a person almost never had a private line…..a telephone line dedicated only to your own house. Usually, there were as many as four….or more….people on each “line”. You shared one telephone line…..and you took your turn in using it, if someone else happened to be talking on it at the time you wanted to talk on it.

I remember the first telephone call that I ever made. It was with a “neighbor” girl who lived across a field from us. I could have just as easily gone over to her house….it was only a five minute run, at the most. But, why do that when I could simply pick up the telephone and call her? Not much has changed in that respect….has it? In fact, today somebody could be sitting across the room, and we still prefer to send a text message rather than talk to them in person. At least, this is true for some people. Not me, though. I don’t remember what we talked about on that first phone call. I am sure we both struggled to think of something to say. But, who cares? We were talking on the telephone.

Back in those days, the telephone operator could be….and was…..a most valuable source of information. She knew EVERYTHING! And, why wouldn’t she? I am sure she listened to practically every conversation that was made. But….on the useful side: If I wanted to know where my mother was, she probably knew. All I had to do was ask her. When I called somebody, she would often say, “Oh, that person isn’t at home now. They are over at (somebody’s) house.” …..or they are uptown now. She served as sort of the town’s coordinator…..our locator service. She was also our clock! If we wanted the correct time, she would tell us. At least, what she thought the correct time was. And, I had an extra added bonus…..our telephone operator was one of our “neighbors”…..who lived down the road a half mile from us.

Our very first telephone was actually more modern that our next phone….the one we had when we moved into town. On the first one, all we had to do was pick up the receiver, and immediately the operator would ask what number we wanted to call. After we moved into Sterling, our telephone has a little handle that we had to crank in order to get the attention of the operator. And, then, eventually, we moved on to the rotary dial telephone…..and then the push button phone…..another giant step forward. It wasn’t until well after I moved to Valley Falls that I finally got my own private line, though……and after I retired that I got my first cell phone…..and well….I haven’t gotten a smart phone yet.

Well…..those seem to be the “biggies”…..about as far back in my memory that I can go without the help of some hypnotism or other sort of black magic that can help me see far back into my childhood. There are other memories, of course…..idyllic memories of carefree fun and childhood pleasures. Of freely roaming the territory that fanned out from our house. The woods, the streams, the railroad that ran just back of our property. Summer games such as hide and seek, baseball, cowboys and Indians with my brother and the neighbor kids. Climbing trees…..of climbing almost anything that could be climbed. Endless hours of riding my bicycle up and down the dirt roads. In the winter time: snowball fights, snow angels, snow forts, trapping hapless rabbits (but always letting them go), roaming the nearby woods with my brother and neighbor kids.

And, later on, as time went by there came other indispensable luxuries…..TV being the most notable. But, that wouldn’t come until I was in high school.

Most of the later luxuries were things we could live without, if it were absolutely necessary. Today, I wonder what young people are going to look back and marvel about…..and say, “Wow, when I was young we had to live without ——-!” What will they consider to be the inventions that greatly enriched their lives….things which have literally brought them into the modern world of the future….their future.

I don’t know. Maybe today all of the absolute basic necessities of life are already being taken for granted…. But, who knows what is to come: Complete independence from fossil fuels? Eradication of dreaded diseases? Easy and convenient duplication of vital body organs? Completely new forms of transportation? A revolution in diet and the foods that we eat? Or maybe it will be TV without the Kardashians or Justin Beber or Mylie Cyrus…..

Whatever it is, I can well imagine that kids of today will eventually being saying to their offspring, “Young people today have it so easy. Back when I was young……”

 

This spring, I got to take a class that I did not ask for…..that I did not enroll in. Let’s call it Blindness -.500. Notice the decimal point. It was definitely a lower level course…..but I experienced enough of it to know that I never, never want to take the full course. In fact, I would never want to see (no pun intended) anybody have to take this class. It is no fun…..and there is a chance that one may never get out of the class. Who is the teacher? Well….I am not even going to speculate on that question.

Once in a while, things just happen. And happen unexpectedly. They come from nowhere….and are contrary to everything that has happened in the past. Think about it… that is usually how we form our expectations: from past experiences…..and from the experiences of others. That is how insurance companies set their premiums; that is how gamblers determine odds of winning and losing. Most of the times, the odds work in your favor…..but sometimes they don’t. With me…..this time they didn’t.

But this is not a story of gloom and doom. It is a story of a partially salvaged Spring Break. It is also a story of a loyal, unselfish friendship…..an opportunity to set aside adversity and uncertainty……and to see (Yes….the pun is intended.) the bright side of life. 

This is why I call this blog “I See Said the (almost) Blind Man…..and Other Spring Break Fun.

Yes…..it started out with high hopes. Fayez Alruwaili was coming to spend Spring Break…..at his “home away from home”. I am always glad to see Fayez, because he seems to brighten up my life….and the lives of everyone…..when he is around. 

Friday afternoon I left the front door unlocked, because I knew that I would probably be asleep in my recliner when he arrived. And, of course…..I was. I don’t know how long he had been standing there, but I awoke suddenly….and there he was. I knew he would be there, but yet I am sure I let out a little exclamation of surprise. It is sort of like what happens when you are suddenly and unexpectedly awakened from a deep sleep.

There was some uncertainty about our plans. My great-nephew was stopping at my house on his way to his mother’s….my niece…..house in Hutchinson. Not having been told of when he would arrive, we quickly reviewed the potential sleeping arrangements for the night. I in my recliner; Fayez on the couch; my great-nephew could have the bed in the spare room….Fayez’s room…..and others could sleep in the bunk bed in my bedroom and in sleeping bags on the floor. And, we could always pitch a tent in the front yard. It would all work out.

But, we never had to use this plan of action, because my great-nephew called and said they would be spending the night at his sister’s house in Kansas City…..and would come to our house the next morning on their way to Hutchinson. 

This left us free to mobilize Plan B…..except we really didn’t have a Plan B. However, it didn’t take long to come up with a Plan B. We would go to Topeka to Weller’s Bar and Grill to eat supper and watch K. U. play in the semi-finals of the Big 12 Basketball Tournament. Quite frankly, I didn’t hold very high hopes for K. U……and they didn’t disappoint me. They lost to Iowa State….the result of….probably….lack of desire and motivation. Oh well……they were already assured of a spot in the NCAA tournament…..probably as a Number 3 or 4 seed, I thought…..but never as a Number 2 seed as it ended up. After we had finished our supper….and two or three large beers…..Diet Pepsi for Fayez…..it was getting late. And, we knew that we would not have to watch basketball again for another week. Neither of us really cared who won the Big 12 Tournament after K.U. was so ingloriously knocked out of it.

My great-nephew, Tim Darrah, was scheduled to arrive fairly early……8:30 or 9:00. And, he did.

Tim is the son of my niece, Wanita. I had been in contact with him for several years through Facebook and through e-mail. I had seen pictures of him at my brother’s (his grandfather) house; I had seen pictures of him on Facebook; and I had old baby pictures that my mother (his great-grandmother) had left in her collection of family pictures. But…..I had never met him in person. Oh, it is entirely possible…and very probable… that I saw him when he was a toddler…..but certainly never when he was a “real person”. 

From the Facebook messages and from the e-mail messages that he had written over the years, I already knew that he was a bright….and very literate and articulate….person. And, I was looking forward very much to his arrival.

Around 9:00, there was a knock at the door. There he was. And, he looked pretty much like his pictures…..maybe a little taller than I had envisioned, and maybe his hair was a little longer than some of the pictures that I had seen. And, of course…..the beard. He had been in the military…..and most of the pictures I had seen were taken during that period. But….nevertheless, it was a happy and welcome meeting. I had finally met Tim….or Timmy, as I always heard him referred as.

With him were two of his kids…..Kaeli, probably around 3 years old, and Tristan, a junior in high school. Kaeli was amazingly literate for her age….and smart, too. While initially restless, after I gave her something to eat and drink…..and after Tim got her interested in a cartoon on his smart phone….she became absorbed in it.

Fayez, who was still asleep when they arrived, woke up and joined us…..rather sleepy eyed…..but yet, seemingly awake! 

Tim is developing software for an automatic door opener. Wow! Finally…..maybe another Einstein in our family. Another Bill Gates….maybe. As he demonstrated the software he had developed up that point, I am sure that Fayez had a much better understanding and grasp of what he was saying. My mind simply does not process scientific information very well. Well….I do know what an automatic door opener is. But….how is works? That is better left to people with a more scientific mind than mine.

Tristan, Tim’s son, who had been asleep in the car woke up and came inside the house. That is probably what he and Fayez have in common…..both like to sleep. Nevertheless, after taking some pictures, Tim left to travel on to Hutchinson…..a course Fayez and I would soon be following.

It is a rather strange feeling to meet somebody so close in relationship after such a long period of time. Somebody who was a stranger…..but yet a blood relative. A person who shares the same last name, the same relatives, the same heritage…..but somebody whom I felt I met twenty-six years too late. But, it was also an easy, happy meeting. It was a good way to start off the Spring Break activities.

Shortly after Tim and his family left, we, also, were on the road heading toward Hutchinson. This was the first trip Fayez had made through the Flint Hills and finally onto the pancake flat land of Central Kansas that I call home. 

We arrived in Hutchinson in mid-afternoon….and drove straight to my niece’s house. There again, we met up with Tim…..and also with my great-niece, Trina….who were staying at my niece’s house. For Fayez and me, time was starting to run down….the clock was ticking toward 7:00, when we had tickets to attend “Fiddler on the Roof”. After Fayez took some pictures……pictures with four generations of Darrah’s represented…..we left to find our motel. That task really did not require a PhD in geography…….because, after all, Hutchinson was my “big city” until I was twenty-two years old.

After eating dinner at a Chinese buffet across the Highway 61, we headed to Hutchinson Community College to attend a performance of “Fiddler on the Roof”…..our official reason for being in Hutch in the first place.

Before the performance began, I had cautioned Fayez that this was a student performance…..not a professional performance. It was being presented by the students of Hutch Community College….basically a bunch of kids. And, probably a majority of them were not even music or theater majors. Having sat through a myriad of student plays and student musical programs in my life time as a teacher and counselor, my expectations were already fairly low. No disrespect intended…..but I am quite familiar with the quality of work displayed by students of this age.

Fayez, on the other hand, had much higher expectations. He had attended performances at Wichita State University, which were performed by upper class theater and music majors…..or actors and musicians from the professional world. Believe me….there is a vast difference between watching a 13^th grader and a Broadway cast member. Sort of like comparing a Little League baseball game to the Kansas City Royals.

At any rate, I was pretty well prepared as the curtain went up and the performance started. Yes……for a group of inexperienced kids, they did a creditable job. They knew their lines….they knew the music….they spoke in reasonably audible voice….they didn’t appear to be overly nervous….. Yes….it wasn’t so bad, looking at it from this perspective. 

But, Fayez……

He simply didn’t like it. Actually, I think he was expecting too much. But, at the end of the first act, which seemed to go on interminably, we both agreed that it was time to go. And, it was intermission….a natural, normal time. Most of the people left their seats to go into the lobby to stretch their legs. Some went outside to smoke. We went outside….not to smoke….but to get into our car and leave.

Well….OK. Actually, I really didn’t like the play very well, either. But….the reason I didn’t like it was…..I simply don’t care for Broadway musicals…..even if is one of the most popular, longest-running musicals of all time. And, at least, Fayez was able to keep his eyes open during the first act. That was more than I could do. Set me in a room…..turn the lights down….and I am out like a light. I don’t think I fell asleep this time, though. I merely closed my eyes and listened…..contrary to what Fayez may think.

Having accomplished the main objective of the trip….making sure Fayez had a ticket and a program to take back with him…..we spent the remainder of the evening sitting in the Grand Slam Sports Bar at the Ramada Inn. Every TV in the bar was tuned to the Big 12 Championship game between Iowa State and Baylor. And, in the background was the loudest, most annoying music that can be found in any bar in Hutchinson. Well….I assume that is a true statement….but I have only been in one bar in Hutch….and this is it. The last time I was there, we asked one of the waitresses if she could turn down the music a decibel or two. She apologetically and politely told us that she had no control over the music. I think I have figured out the reason for the excessively loud music…..This must be a bar that caters to deaf people…..or at least, people who are hard of hearing. But….most definitely…..it was far better than sitting through the second act of “Fiddler on the Roof”.

The next day…..Sunday…..we had intended to drive back home and go watch one of my friends in a bicycle race at Lake Perry. I think we already knew on Saturday night that this was not going to happen. When we came out of the sports bar to go to our car, the temperature had already dropped several degrees….and the wind was blowing furiously. Neither of us had brought a warm, winter jacket with us. When we left my house on Saturday, the weather was sunny and beautiful. When we got back to the motel room, I checked the weather forecast for Topeka. Temperatures in the 30’s and chance of snow. Not very conducive to standing outside to watch anything! In fact, we assumed that the race would be canceled….or at least postponed to another day. Wow….racing a bicycle in barely above freezing temperatures….with wind….and snow? To go ahead and race in that kind of weather? That would take some real dedication….or the skin of a polar bear.

So…..Sunday morning we decided to drive directly to Lawrence and eat lunch at the Aladdin Restaurant…..a Lebanese place that serves a buffet for Sunday lunch. If Lebanese food is an acquired taste…..then I have acquired it. The food is exotic, spicy, and highly delicious. It was well worth the drive to Lawrence. A nice walk up and down Massachusetts Avenue would have been welcome…..and beneficial. But, because of the weather, that possibility was immediately ruled out. Instead, we went to a Middle East food store to buy some desert for a cook out we were planning for later in the coming week.

The weekend was a perfect start to what we hoped would be a pleasant, fun-filled week ahead.

Then came Monday.

It was a day like any other day…… Except this was the day I had surgery on my right eye to remove a cataract and to replace the lens. I was prepared for it. Fayez had put three different eye drops….at $125 a bottle… into my eye the required three times on Sunday. Actually, I was sort of looking forward to it. I had gone through it before. The hardest part of the procedure was to lie still for the thirty or forty minutes that it took to complete the process. But, after it was over, I was looking forward to seeing clearly again.

About two months previously, I had the same surgery performed on my left eye. Everything went well. The surgery was virtually painless. For about eight or ten hours following the surgery, my eye felt like it had an eye lash in it….or maybe a tiny grain of sand. Not really “pain”…..but enough of an annoyance to want to rub it or scratch it. That is why I wore a plastic protective covering over it. By sometime that evening, even this feeling had disappeared. My eye was terribly bloodshot….almost bright red….but that was a cosmetic distraction…..not a painful one. I could see out of the eye. Not well, of course….but I could definitely see, even though things were blurry and indistinct. 

Thus…..when Monday morning dawned, bright and sunny, I approached the day with very little nervousness or apprehension. Fayez put the eye drops into my right eye….and we set off for Topeka and the Stormont-Vail Single Day Surgery Unit. This would be the last time I would drive a car for the next week.

The surgery was scheduled for 7:45 A.M. The entire process was estimated to take about three hours. There was no need for Fayez to wait around, so he took off for the North YMCA to work out. The nurse had his cell phone number so she could call him when I was ready to be released.

Things went wrong from the very beginning. The operating table was broken. It needed a new part before they could begin any surgery. The part had been ordered out of Kansas City…..and it was in transit from Kansas City to Topeka. In the meantime, I was sort of in limbo. I was already checked in….and they didn’t want me to leave. On the other hand…..there was nothing they could do….or that I could do….except wait. The nurses and doctors seemed to be agitated. I could hear them talking in the background. I am quite sure they weren’t very concerned about me……but I am sure they were concerned about running behind and possibly having to postpone surgeries that would follow mine. You know……Money, money, money!

The nurses were thoughtful enough to take me into a rather quiet room….away from the hustle and bustle of the main holding area…..where there was a chair that reclined. That, in itself, was a major blessing. Now…I can hardly wait to see how much they billed my insurance for the use of the chair. Anyway, I almost immediately fell asleep…..and that is a great way to make time pass quickly! In the meantime, assorted doctors, nurses and technicians would drop by periodically to ask how I was doing and to assure me that “It won’t be much longer.”

More than two hours late, they finally took me into the surgery room and proceeded with the surgery. Since I had already been through this procedure once before, I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. After they had isolated my entire body, except for the right eye, the doctor began with the surgery. Again, he told me that it would be painless….and all I would feel would be some pressure as he made three incisions, extracted the old lens, and inserted the new lens. First of all, somebody applied some eye drops……and some thick jelly-like substance to my eye. These were, I think, the preliminary anesthetic….to deaden the eye so I wouldn’t feel the needle as they injected the final pain killer.

There was a problem, though. I felt the needle as he stuck it into my eye. It wasn’t exactly excruciating…..but, believe me…..it was still pain. I thought, “Oh well….that will kill the pain, and I won’t feel it any longer.” This is where I began to suspect that something had gone wrong. Not only could I feel “pressure”, but I could also feel pain. And…..this is the point where I was pretty sure something had gone wrong! I told the doctor that I could feel pain. “Oh…don’t worry. The pain will go away in a minute or two.” A few minutes later, I told him again…..”I can still feel pain.” Again….”That’s normal. It will stop in just a minute.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop. But, again, it wasn’t unbearable pain. So, I didn’t mention it again…..although I was pretty sure that this was not a good sign.

They finished….put the protective plastic cover on my eye….sent me to the recovery room…..and it was over. 

They called Fayez on his cell phone. Fortunately, he was across the street in the parking lot….or somewhere very near. He picked me up at the front door…..and this is where Fayez more or less took over. This is where I am sure I unintentionally started to ruin his Spring Break!

I put on my dark glasses…..my Mafia glasses…..and we went home……straight home. When we arrived home, actually, I didn’t feel so badly. I posed for a couple pictures….of course. And, for the lack of anything else to do, I went inside and sat in my recliner. The eye still hurt….but it was a different kind of “hurt”. After the surgery on my left eye…..like I said…..the eye felt irritated, like there was an eye lash caught in the eye….or a piece of dust….or something similar….in my eye. But, this time, it was real pain. Again, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

As he did for the next three days, Fayez fixed something to eat. We sat and talked. He put the eye drops into my eye……eye drops that cost $125 for a little bottle less than one inch tall……and there were three of them! I want to buy some stock in that company! And…..then while he was studying, I took my usual eighty-minute nap. That is the length of the music CDs that I “listen” to as I sleep.

When I awoke, there was still some pain. But…..no problem. It will go away soon. We decided to go to Terry’s Bar and Grill in Topeka….probably our favorite bar because it is a neighborhood bar….relatively quiet and very friendly…..and safe. Of course, Fayez drove….. And, of course, I wore my dark Secret Service glasses. We sat and talked until about midnight and then went back home. All in all….not such a bad day. Yes….my eye was still hurting….but surely it would stop hurting soon……just like it did last time. I covered my left eye to see how well I could see out of my right eye. I couldn’t. There was nothing. The only things I could “see” was a solid yellow-tanish color….much like the color of a manila envelop. Oh well….tomorrow morning, things would start getting back to normal again.

Fayez put the three eye drops into my eye….three different kinds at $125.00 a bottle, remember? I taped the protective plastic covering on eye….and went to bed.

Tuesday morning, I woke up, took the protective plastic covering off my eye…..and washed it gently with a wash cloth. The doctor had told me not to take a shower and get the eye wet for five days…..but that I could wash it with a warm, damp cloth.

I proceeded to make a cup of coffee, and went to my office to check my e-mail…..a major chore all by itself. Needless to say, my vision was not very good…..looking out of my left eye only….and with somewhat blurry vision in that eye. I went back to front room, sat down in my recliner…..and thought, “OK. I will do another test on my right eye to see how well I can see this morning.

Nothing. Not even a shadow. Just the same yellowish color. And, my eye was still hurting a little. “Come on now,” I thought. “I was already seeing things last time. What’s the problem now?”

At that point, I was more annoyed than alarmed. Fayez got up…..put more eye drops into my eye. And, I closed my eyes, thinking that I would take a short nap and let my eye rest some more. However, I started to feel nauseated…..sick….very sick! 

Oh wow…..It must have been something I ate last night…..probably a touch of food poisoning. But…..why isn’t Fayez sick? We ate chips and cheese dip out of the same bowl. What did I do? Get the only bad chip in the bowl? And, who ever heard of getting food poisoning from tortilla chips? I felt miserable. I tried to vomit…..but (fortunately for me!) I couldn’t. Fayez started to get worried…..and so did I…..just a little bit. I checked my vision again. There was still not a trace of vision in my right eye.

Upon Fayez’s urging….and it didn’t take much…..I called the doctor’s office and told the nurse what was happening. The doctor wasn’t there at the time, but a few minutes later, he called on his cell phone and told me to come to his office as soon as possible. I didn’t feel like going…..but, again, with Fayez driving, we went down to his office.

He examined my eye and said that a lot of pressure had built up behind my eye…..maybe from swelling, I am not sure……and that there was a small blood clot. That was what was causing me to feel so badly. I had no idea that something like this could happen: That swelling or pressure on an eye could cause such a radical effect on my digestive system. He put some different drops into my eye…..and gave me the bottle to take home….for free this time….Another drop for Fayez to put into my eye. It was sort of like watering flowers.

Unfortunately, I felt like….. Well, I still didn’t feel very well the rest of the afternoon. Again Fayez fixed lunch…..and put some drops into my eye. Again, I zonked out in my recliner. I wasn’t very entertaining company that afternoon. And, Fayez was more or less left to his own devices. I think he drove down to Paradise Point to run. I am really starting to feel like a really great host!

Fayez prepared some delicious Saudi Arabian food for supper. That made me feel somewhat better……raised my spirits a little bit. We stayed at home that night. There was no use in even pretending that I felt like going anywhere.

I decided to test my vision again. Nothing. Zip. Not even a shadow. I began to get a little nervous. Maybe I would be walking around with a patch over my right eye for the rest of my life. More eye drops……back to bed again.

Wednesday. This was the last full day that Fayez would be here. Let me test my vision. Again…..nothing. Just like staring at a manila envelop. My spirits were starting to sink. It was the third day with no sight in my right eye.

Fayez took me back to the doctor again. More magic eye drops. No explanations.

On the way home we took a time out so Fayez could run on the Ferguson Road for four miles. I wanted him to get something beneficial out of his Spring Break! As for me…..I was the one who benefited beyond words from him during Spring Break. But…..that is not what Spring Breaks are for. 

The remainder of the day we…..well, we did nothing. I still did not feel well. I could see only out of one eye…..and even that eye was not clear. We had to cancel a cookout that afternoon….something that was supposed to be a highlight of the week. Man, I hope Fayez is having more fun than I am having! 

Noon…..more of the magic drops. Still no sight in my right eye. And, I paid $125 a bottle for those eye drops!? I am starting to mentally design the patch I will wear over my eye. Maybe….one for around the house; another one to wear in casual outings; maybe another one to wear to church and other dress-up occasions. No…..wait. Maybe I will just wear dark glasses. People won’t be able to see my eye….and they will never know. It will be my “new look”. I have always thought it would be neat to get a flat top and have my hair dyed deep black. But, this might be even better.

In the early evening, we decided to get out of the house and go somewhere. After all, this was the last night of Fayez’s exciting, enjoyable and fun-filled stay at my house.   I was still not feeling at all well….in fact, I was still feeling miserable, but I could be miserable almost anywhere. And, at least one of us should be having a good time…..that should be Fayez. So, why not go somewhere? We decided to spend it at Terry’s Bar and Grill again. 

Upon returning home….somewhere after midnight…..I did the “sight test” again.

Wow…..I could see shadows! I could see the light of the lamps. I could see the shadow of my hand in front of my face. I could even see the flickering light of the TV. If I had not know beforehand what each of these objects was…..they would have remained a mystery. But…..at least, I was starting to see again!

Good old Magic Eye Drops! Maybe the $125 per bottle is starting to pay off.

Fayez had to leave and go back to college on Thursday morning. I hated to see him go….and I was just a little bit apprehensive about staying by myself. However, we had already gone shopping, and I had enough food to last about ten days. I had no doctor appointments until the following Tuesday. And, I felt that IF I had to drive, I could probably do it. The vision in my left eye had gradually improved…..but only to about 80% to 85% of what it was before the surgery. Not good enough. On Tuesday, the doctor looked at it, examined it, put eye drops in it…..and more or less proclaimed it was healed. Of course….it wasn’t his eye.

Probably the most helpful advice came from my cousin. She had been a surgical nurse for an ophthalmologist for more than twenty years. She told me that it was probably the various eye drops that were preventing the vision from improving. As soon as I stopped using eye drops, she thought, the vision would improve quickly. And…..she was right. Send your bill to Medicare! Your advice was worth it.

So…..here I am one month later. I can see again. Not any better than I could before all the surgery…..but, nevertheless, I can see. And, thank Heavens for that. I strongly suspect that I never needed any of the surgery in the first place. If I did, my results turned out much differently than all the other people I talked to who had cataracts removed. Their stories…..one hundred percent of them….were glowing testimonials of how wonderful the surgery had been…..how much better they could see in the aftermath of the surgery. For me, it simply didn’t turn out that way. My eyesight is back to where I started the entire process. Certainly no better than that…..and I think I can honestly say….no worse.

What did I learn from all this misery…..and for over a week, it was misery? I learned very few medical lessons. Maybe to always get a second opinion before plunging into such a serious procedure. I also learned that just because something goes smoothly the first time….it doesn’t necessarily mean it will go smoothly the second time. And, I learned that I am glad that I have only two eyes.

However, I think the memory I will probably have of both of the surgeries is that I have a friend who cheerfully….and without complaint…..sacrificed his Spring Break to help me…..to act as driver, cook, doctor, friend…..and made life infinitely easier at a time when I needed it.

Looking back….I was probably never in danger of losing eyesight in my right eye. I am sure the doctor had dealt with situations like this before. But, that was a little bit difficult to understand while going 3 long days with not a hint of vision. We made the best of a bad situation….and it ended happily ever after. And there were other things to be thankful for, too…..During the last surgery, we had a lot of snow. Fayez “entertained” me by treating me to a snowball fight. Now it was March. No snow like the last time. No more snowball fights. No more being pushed to the ground and being bombarded mercilessly with snow, as I lay helplessly in a foot of snow…..by a Saudia Arabian desert dweller, of all people. Yes…..it ended happily ever after.

Yeah…..I can see, said the (almost) blind man…..and what a fun Spring Break it was!

And my next step is to buy stock in the company that manufactures and sells those eye drops.

 

Back in 1993, suddenly my household was no longer a single person household. One day in mid-August, it became a two person household…..and it stayed that way until 2001. And, then just as suddenly…..it became a one person household again.

Those eight years were some of the most satisfying years of my life. And, when it came to an end, it most certainly left an empty spot in my life. Those were the years that I had a foreign exchange student living with me…..except for a couple unhappy exceptions, that I constantly try to forget even happened.

Let me tell you how all of this happened. It definitely was not by design….it was not planned. In fact, it came about purely by accident……and maybe by lucky coincidence…..maybe by fate. Who know? But….it did happen. And I am a better person because of it. My association with eight—-again, give or take one or two…..outstanding young men enriched and enlightened my life in ways that I had never anticipated. And, the experience keeps on giving, even until today.

After I retired in 2003, it was no longer practical for me to host high school students. While I was still working at the school, it was a perfect situation. They could ride to school with me in the morning…..and ride back home with me after school. I may be generous and benevolent…..but, I am also practical…..and a little bit selfish, too. For eight years I woke up at 5:30 A.M…..got myself ready to go to work…..and then about 6:30 A.M., it was time to wake up the exchange student so he could get ready in time to leave for school about 7:15 A.M. And….let’s just say that waking up a sleeping 17 or 18 year old boy is not the easiest job in the world. It takes persistence….and sometimes a very loud voice.

When I finally retired….after sticking it out until the bitter end…..I was no longer in the mood to rouse myself out of bed at 5:30…..especially not for the sole purpose of driving a kid to school. Call me selfish…..but…well….just call me selfish. And….add to that….I would have to be at the school at 3:30 to pick him up and take him back home again. No…..that didn’t sound like a lot of fun. Oh, yes…..of course, they could have ridden the school bus. The school bus goes right past my home. But, while I may be just a little bit selfish…..I am not a mean person. To make a senior in high school ride the school bus every day with a bunch of kindergarten kids…..and first, second, third graders. Well, that is just being mean! No self-respecting high school kid rides the school bus any longer. It would be humiliating…..and I didn’t want to humiliate my exchange student.

And, of course, there was also the problem of what to do with them when I happened to be out of town for a couple days……or when I spent the month of April in Germany. (That’s sort of ironic, isn’t it? Most of my exchange students were German.)

No…..it just made more sense not to host exchange students any longer. For years, I had exchange student organizations calling me….sending e-mails….almost begging me to take an exchange student. There is an almost desperate need for host parents. A dozen or more exchange student organizations are all competing to place students. And, instead of accepting only those for whom they have found a home……they accept almost anybody who can pay the small fortune it costs to become an exchange student. Consequently, there is often a real glut of unplaced students for whom the organizations are frantically looking to place in a home.

OK. But…..back to my story.

How did I happen to become a host parent? As I said, it was almost by accident….or fate.

One summer afternoon I was in town, and I was walking out of the post office when I ran into a couple friends of mine. They had hosted several foreign exchange students in the past. Actually, I knew a couple of them fairly well. One of them had been a volunteer basketball coach on Saturday morning when I was in charge of the grade school intramural program. He was a good kid….somewhat more mature and serious than some of our high school students….at that time in history. Another of their foreign exchange students was on the high school cross-country team which I coached. He was a good kid….somewhat more mature and serious than some of our high school students….at that time in history. I liked both of these kids….and both of them did a good job and took their roles seriously.

Anyway…..the friend said to me….literally out of no where, “Why don’t you host a foreign exchange student this fall?”

I was taken by surprise. I had never thought of it before…..never even considered it. I am sure that I hesitated….really not knowing what to say. Actually, at that time, I had no idea what was involved in hosting a foreign exchange student….or even how to go about getting one. I had no idea what impact it would have on my life….whether I would like it or not…..whether I was suited to such a role or not…… But, he plowed on….telling me all the advantages: companionship, great learning experience, become familiar with another culture, promoting international understanding…….all of that kind of stuff.

Actually, I think he was merely trying to help out his area coordinator….who I am sure was being pressured from above to place students. After several minutes of discussion, he finally said, “Well, just talk to the area coordinator….and then you can make up your mind.” He promised to give her my telephone number so she could contact me…….and she did! Almost immediately.

We set up an appointment for an evening two or three days later…..after I had given her detailed instructions on how to find my house. This was in the days before the rural roads were numbered and each house had an address. In the meantime, she had sent me an application form to fill out.

Not knowing what to expect…..I spent the next day or two thoroughly cleaning the house. It was immaculate. On the appointed evening, the area coordinator and a friend (I think she was afraid she would get lost.) showed up. After she explained the program and showed me a lot of propaganda, I asked her if she would like to see the rest of the house. If I hadn’t volunteered…..somehow I don’t think she would have asked. Anyway, she said, Yes….she would take a look at the room where the student would be sleeping. After a casual glance……she said now I could choose the student that I wanted.

Somehow…..and I still do not understand why…..she showed me only TWO students. Those, apparently, were my choices…..the ones I had to choose from. Maybe those were the only two students left….or maybe they were the only ones who seem to fit with the information on my application form. But….I looked at them. I didn’t know…..they looked pretty similar…..six of one; half a dozen of the other, as my mother used to say. They were both from Germany. I ended up choosing one of them…..and that was it. She told me that she would be in touch on a specific day about two or three days later……and they left.

There was a problem, though. I was leaving for a vacation in Colorado the next day. No problem….. She gave me her telephone number and told me to call her.

On the appointed evening, I called her from my motel room. “You have a new son!” she told me. And, that is how I got into the business of hosting foreign exchange students.

Luckily for me, the choice was a good one. No….an excellent one. And, except for a couple notable bad experience, my choices were excellent for the next ten years.

But……hold on….. the story doesn’t end there. I went to Kansas City International Airport to pick up my student. I had seen only one rather bad picture of him. (This was long before we had Internet.) The plane landed….the passengers all started filing through the gate into the waiting area. I kept looking and looking for my student. All the passengers had gotten off the airplane…..and I was standing there wondering where my student was….what had happened to him. I was starting to get a mild feeling of panic. Had he missed his connection? Had he changed his mind and decided not to come? Had he had some sort of problems with Immigration Services? Had he seen me….and decided that he was going to go back home?

As I was standing there trying to figure out my next move, somebody tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned to see a young man standing there….obviously about as nervous as I was. “Are you Beryl?” he asked. (Actually he said, “Are you “barrel”…which is how all of my students pronounced my name when they first arrived.)

“Yes……”

“I am Sebastian.”

No wonder I didn’t recognize him. In all of the pictures I saw of him…..he had long hair….down almost to his shoulders. And, here, standing before me was a clean-cut young man with short, well-trimmed hair. I would never have guessed! No doubt, he had been advised by the exchange student agency to trim him hair……and look a little neater.

Another coincidence: As Sebastian continued to live with me throughout the 1993 school year, he often talked about his friends. And he often talked to one of his friends who was also an exchange student somewhere in the U.S.A. Over time….and after listening to several of these discussions and telephone calls…..I began to put two and two together. One day I asked him about his friend…..What is his name? Where is he from? Then I found the two student profiles that the area coordinator had given to me as my two choices. And…..Yes, you have probably guessed it: The other choice I had to choose from was his best friend.

I later met the “other” kid on one of my trips to Germany. He, too, was a super kid. But, I have never questioned my choice…..which was the right one.

So……that is how it all got started……and it has never ended. Although I no longer host foreign exchange student, for the reasons that I detailed earlier, I have branched out into a similar….and equally satisfying….endeavor. Instead of hosting high school students, who are almost totally dependent up on me for transportation, support, and supervision, I now open my home to adult travelers. These are paying guests….although I rarely ask for anything except that they buy some food now and then. They are adults, and they are expected to take care of themselves…..although most of them do not have their own transportation and I end up driving them. I am not responsible for them in any way……although I gladly give advice and counsel….when asked….and sometimes, even if I am not asked.

But…..back to the exchange students. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed my first experience. When the ten months were finished….I hated to see him go…..and I think he hated to leave. (At least, I would like to think so.) As usually happens….with him and with most of the others….we had formed a bond of lifelong friendship. When my first exchange student left…..he didn’t want me to get another student. He wanted to be the only one. The one I would remember forever.

But, it didn’t happen that way. Over the years, I had several more students…..each of whom I will remember forever.

More about them later. In the meantime, I will enjoy being their American Dad…..and their kids’ gray headed American grandfather.

 

Oh, Wow!  I can feel it coming on.  I am seeing visions;  I am am having flashbacks; I am being transported into strange, but wonderful and exciting land.  I seem to have an affliction. I think is can safely be diagnosed as “Travel Fever”.

Traveling….anywhere….here in the U.S.A. or around the world…..has long been one of the things that I like to do most. If I were rich, I am sure that I would probably be sitting in some strange, exotic, foreign land almost all of the time……and for the most part, I really don’t care where it is……just somewhere else. It is rather strange how I got caught up in this desire to travel. Back in the “old days”, I really didn’t go anywhere. I had no desire to……until one night in May, 1962. I was living in Hutchinson in a cramped two room apartment. The school year had ended, and one night one of my friends from my home town of Sterling came down to my apartment. We were sitting around talking. The subject turned to the World’s Fair which was currently underway in Seattle, Washington. Somehow, suddenly…..spontaneously…..we thought it would be a great idea if could go see it. No….we were both perfectly sober. And….No…..those who know me are aware that I am not a “spontaneous” person! It is just not my nature to do things on the spur of the moment…..without thinking about it…..and especially without making almost minute by minute plans. But…..Yes….I was still very young then…..still almost a puppy…..although an almost grown puppy. I did stupid things back then….did things sometimes without thinking of the consequences….sometimes without even knowing what I was really doing. Maybe that is why I have changed so much today…..driving friends insane with my constant need to plan every event in my life with great care and in great detail. Not that taking a trip to the West Coast was stupid. It is just that this was the first major solo trip of my life……and it came about almost by accident…..without prior warning. Within a few hours….literally…. we had packed my little red Volkswagen Bug…..and we were on our way. On our way to the West Coast…..on our way to Seattle…..where ever that was! We had no plan. How could we? It was only a few hours earlier that we had decided to make the trip. But, obviously, we headed in the right direction…..because we did eventually end up in Seattle…..and at the World’s Fair. I would say that details of the trip are sketchy……but that wouldn’t be quite true. Most of the details are simply non-existent! We picked up maps from service stations…..they were free back then, believe it or not…..and we must have planned our trip on an almost minute by minute basis. We had no tent. When evening came, we found a comfortable spot off the highway…..almost always near a stream or a creek or a lake…..unrolled our sleeping bags…..started a small fire where ever we could…..and went to sleep under the stars. Many mornings we would wake up covered with dew, our sleeping bags almost drenched from the nighttime condensation. I often wonder how many times we trespassed on private property. But….nobody seemed to care…..certainly not us. We took a bath in streams or creeks…..ate sandwiches…..carried a cooler with some ice and water…..took enough clothing to last for two weeks…..listened to the car radio. We thought….and felt like….we were big dogs. Two or three nights we slept on the beach…..something that is illegal today…..and maybe was back then, too. We gathered some drift wood, started a fire, and enjoyed the sound of the crashing waves as they lulled us to sleep. Offer me a million dollars to reconstruct the route we took as we traveled both to and from Kansas on that trip. Go ahead…..offer! You are safe. You are not going to lose any money. I have no idea how we got there…..and I have no idea how we got back. But…..I do know we made it. I have pictures to prove it. Speaking of pictures. They are the only reference I have to indicate where we went….the territory we covered. Although I have no clear recollection of the places…..we visited Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone National Park, the Pacific Coast….both in Washington and in Oregon…..Reno, Salt Lake City and Rocky Mountain National Park. Like I said…..I know this only because of the black and white pictures that I took.. We spent two or three days visiting a cousin in south central Washington. He had a dairy farm at the time…..and he raised hops. We spent most of our days moving irrigation pipes, feeding hay to the cattle….whatever else needed to be done. And….we had a blast doing it. Only three places come to mind when I try to recall this trip: The Space Needle, the Pacific Coast, Salt Lake City…..and my cousin’s farm, of course. All of these were a “first”, of course. And, two of them I never forgot! The Pacific Coast….and Salt Lake City. This was a great trip….even if I can’t remember the details. It probably was the event that turned me on to travel! And….I liked it! Then….one day I got a letter from my local selective service board inviting me to become a part of the U.S. Army. To say that I did not want to go to the Army is vastly understating the situation. But….this was one of those “command performance” sort of deals. So….I went. And….I liked it! While I was stationed at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indiana, I had a very desirable job. I was administrative assistant to the commander. I was happy there….and my boss was happy……and I was also good at my job. Then one day, I got another invitation…..an invitation to give up my desirable job on the outskirts of Indianapolis and go to South Vietnam. I wanted to decline the “invitation”, but Uncle Sam insisted that I honor the invitation. So…..I went to South Vietnam. And…..again…..I liked it. Again I had a very desirable job. I was secretary to the Adjutant General of the U. S. Army in Vietnam. A very good job. I liked my job…..my boss liked me….and I did a very good job. While I was in South Vietnam, I was given the opportunity to take several short trips in Southeast Asia…..Hong Kong, Manila, Bangkok…..while some of our airplanes were receiving maintenance. These places were exciting and fascinating….a world that I had never known before. And, I liked it. When I left the Army, I had a wonderful opportunity to return to South Vietnam with an organization called the International Voluntary Services. After a year of teaching English in a provincial capital called Phan Rang…..I was promoted to the position of Chief of Education. In this position, I had as many as 72 teachers working under me. Part of my job was to visit them in their local town and give them support. I spent three years in this position….and during this three years, I was able to travel to many of the countries in Southeast Asia….Hong Kong, Philippines, Japan, Cambodia, Malaysia, Singapore, Laos, Taiwan. There may have been others, but those are the ones that come to mind. I had been bitten by the Travel bug….I had contracted Travel Fever……and I never recovered from it. It was these experiences that hooked me on travel. I recall that very first trip to the Pacific Coast with a great deal of fondness, nostalgia….and wistfulness…….and for several years, I limited my travel to places in the U.S.A……mostly the Oregon Coast…..and points in-between. During these trips, I became much more modern and sophisticated in my travels. I now owned a tent…..and I added a camper shell and a foam rubber mattress to the back of my pickup. Now I could travel in style and comfort. Well…..relatively. It was better than sleeping on the ground under the stars…..sort of. In fact, I have been to every state west of the Mississippi River……and most of them to the east, too. The next major event in my life was hosting my first foreign exchange student…..a student from Germany. I made my first trip to Europe in 1995….and I have returned there….mostly to Germany….almost every year since then. Sometimes more than one time a year. My first “grand tour” of Europe was in 1995…..in the summer time. Although I have made return visits to Europe three or four times in the summer, I quickly discovered that traveling in the “off season” is much cheaper. And for a not-too-well-paid school teacher, that was very important. For the next several years, most of my trips were made during whatever vacation time we had in the school year…..most of the time during cold months….but with a few summer trips thrown in now and then when I could afford it. After I retired, I discovered that the month of April is the most ideal month for me to travel. After a rather long string of rather unsatisfactory “house sitters”……I had a dog….and I also burned wood, at the time…..I almost became reluctant to leave home. Would these house sitters take adequate care of my dog? Would I come back home to find that my house had burned down…..reduced to a pile of ashes? My last wonderful dog, Abby, died in 2004. And while it was a wrenching experience for me….it left me free to travel almost any time I wanted. By April, it was warm enough to simply lock the house and take off. So far, I have visited eleven countries in Europe…..with several more on my “bucket list”. I spent the summer of 1989 working in Yellowstone National Park…..and the summer of 2006 working in Big Bend National Park. Both of these jobs were interesting and rewarding experiences…..although in vastly different ways. During my travels, I have seen sites, experienced things and met people that I never even dreamed of before I served in the U.S. Army. It is one of those blessings in disguise that people talk about, I suppose. You never know what you are missing until you try it….and I am glad that I tried it. It is a lot better to be hooked on travel than a lot of other things that I can think of. An extra added benefit of my travel experiences has been the decision to host a wide variety of foreign travelers, that I met through a couple international hospitality organizations. Some stay for a couple days…..some for a couple months. I have hosted a strange and exotic bunch of people: Europeans, Asians, Africans, Americans. Christians, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims. And also a couple of communists from China….thrown in to make the mix more diverse…..and to add an element of political intrigue….although neither of these guys could have cared less about such stuff. Not were these guests interesting people from whom I have learn much….although I rarely agree with them….but hopefully, they have learned equally as much from me……and I have made some life long friend. And now I also have a place to stay (for free) in my future travels. Until now, I have visited twenty-one different countries…..and I hope that I can visit at least that many more in the future. In my way of looking at things….travel is never time spent unwisely….and is a good investment for the money spent. So why do I travel? I don’t know. Maybe it is because I feel that it enriches my life. Makes me more aware that there is somewhere else besides Kansas. Maybe it makes me appreciate coming back home to Kansas after spending time in places so vastly different from the life I lead here in my rural Kansas setting…..and, I always do. But, more than anything else, I think it broadens my life. It gives me a perspective of the world that I would not and could not have if I had not traveled to these places. Now I have a “feel” about how these people live….what kind of life they live…..what kind of problems they face. I have learned not to stereotype all the people of different nationalities, races, cultures, religions, and ethnic backgrounds. Just like here in the U.S.A……here in Kansas….there are “good” people, and there are “bad” people. We have mostly law-abiding citizens…..but we also have criminals; we have those people who spread love…..and we also have people who spread hate; we have people who practice the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.”…..but we also have our share of bigoted people who preach love and peace……but in their daily life are intolerant, vindictive, dogmatic, hateful and racist…..mostly in the name of religion or politics. As I have traveled in the U.S.A. and around the world, I have found that the vast majority of people are dedicated to providing a good life for their children and family. They go to work in the morning, do their job, and come back home to rest and to enjoy their family. And, I have found that they…..just like us…..want to live in peace. But…..on a more personal level: I doubt if all the traveling I have done has made me a “better” person than anybody else in the true sense of the word. After all, we are all about the same, no matter where we have been or what we have done. But…..to me, at least, it has vastly enriched my life. I know there is life beyond the boundaries of my township or even my state. And, I have a much better understanding of how people live and what they are like because I have been there….I have seen it…..I have walked among them…..I have experienced the culture and the life style. I have met the people. I have observed their behavior. When I say that I have eaten Chinese food….or Italian food…..or Mexican food…..or German food. I really have. Not in a Chinese buffet…or a Pizza Hut….or a Taco Bell….or an Olive Garden…… But, I have sat down in native eating places…..far off the beaten paths of tourists….and have eaten food prepared by natives…for natives. I have stood in front of….taken pictures of…..explored…..buildings and monuments that most people only see in pictures or on TV travel shows. I have walked the avenues of great cities. I have sat in the neighborhood bars with the local people. I have lived in their homes. I have watched their TV programs (although somebody had to tell me what they were saying). I have traveled for miles on city buses, crossed countries riding second or third class on trains. I have taken automobile trips through the countryside….through the small villages and towns where foreigners seldom venture. I have witnessed local and national celebrations and holidays. I have been present during political unrest and revolt….as well as riots and demonstrations. It is more of a personal thing, I suppose. I found out long ago that nobody is really very interested in where I have been…..and certainly not looking at the 12,000 pictures that I have taken. I think my life is richer, more fulfilled….and that I am more empathetic and sympathetic to the lives, feelings, cultures, and ways of living of people in our rapidly shrinking global village. Yes…..long ago I contracted Travel Fever……and I don’t know what the cure is. And, I don’t want to know. It is the best kind of affliction that I can imagine. In fact, I would like to pass it on to everybody I know.And I do not want to be cured. Because….I like it.

I Left My Heart in San Francisco”. That was the name of a popular song from the middle and late 1960’s…..in the midst of the war in Vietnam. It was particularly beloved by American soldiers who were serving in South Vietnam during those years. It was almost impossible to go into a bar in Saigon and not hear that song being performed…..either on a juke box or by a live entertainer. San Francisco, of course, was the city from which most soldiers departed to make their long journey to the Southeast Asian war zone…..and it was there to which they counted the days until their return. But,,,,me? I didn’t leave my heart in San Francisco. I left my heart in…..Saigon.

Considering how much I did NOT want to go to South Vietnam when I received my orders in 1962….and how nervous and apprehensive I was when I arrived at Tan Son Nhut Airport, I look back with amazement how quickly I adapted to the city…..and how quickly I learned to love it.

My initial introduction to Saigon was a ride in an Army bus, whose windows were covered with a heavy mesh screen…..just in case somebody tried to throw a grenade in the window, I suppose. I stepped off the airplane into sweltering heat….into a place that was like nothing I had ever seen before. Soldiers were everywhere. Maybe that was because we were at war. The buildings looked different; the people looked different; the landscape looked different; the traffic was unbelievable.

We took a short ride to our military compound…..my new home for the next year. The bus was deathly quiet. I am not sure exactly what I had expected. Maybe something similar to the army posts at Ft. Leonard Wood? Or Ft. Benjamin Harrison? Where I had previously been stationed. Maybe an orderly collection of barracks, office buildings, parade grounds and mess halls? When we pulled into the front gate of our compound, I got my answer. Mostly there was a collection of barracks, offices, and mess halls. But, they looked nothing like those of my two former army bases.

All the “barracks” were really nothing more than glorified tents….canvas buildings…..almost completely surrounded by sandbags which extended up to the windows. And…the windows? They extended completely around the building, too. They were covered with screen, in an attempt to keep out the mosquitoes. They were build with long, over-extending eves…..an attempt to keep out the rain…..which there was a lot of. On the inside of the barracks….or sleeping quarters is probably a better name for them….. or as we called them: huts…..there were shades or awnings, made of bamboo. These shades could be rolled down when the rain was so heavy and driving that even the overhanging eve couldn’t keep out the water.

The office where I was ultimately assigned, the Adjutant’s General’s office…..was of similar construction and design. It was almost like camping out!

No doubt about it. If I would had have a choice, I would have climbed on an airplane and headed back to the U.S.A. But, of course, I didn’t have that choice. And, looking back, I am happy and almost thankful that I didn’t. I would have missed out on some of the greatest and most memorable years of my life.

I really don’t remember how long it was before I was brave enough to venture into downtown Saigon…..about three or four miles from the airbase. Probably not very long. I met another soldier who worked in another of the sections….and we became friends almost immediately. Armed with an ally, it was much easier to be brave….and strike out to discover what downtown Saigon was all about.

In the military, the only way to get downtown was to take a cab….little blue and yellow Volkswagens…..or a human powered cyclo…..or a motorized, open air petti-cab. No matter which one we chose…..we could be assured of an exciting, hair-raising ride. Taxi drivers were fearless. It is amazing that half the population wasn’t killed off as a result of wildly careening taxis.

Our first visit to downtown Saigon was an awesome experience. A tapestry of sights and sounds and smells that almost overwhelmed our senses. The streets were packed with wall-to-wall traffic…..with every kind of transportation imaginable: cars, army trucks, taxis, delivery vans; jeeps, cyclos, petti cabs, carts pulled by water buffalo, motor scooters and bicycles. Oh….those motor scooters and those bicycles! They were ubiquitous…..everywhere. Most Vietnamese couldn’t afford to own an automobile. The motor scooter was the family transportation….the family car. Entire families could manage to ride on one motor scooter. For those who couldn’t afford a motor scooter, a bicycle would take its place.

Just as the streets were crowed with a jumble of diverse and disparate vehicles, the sidewalks were packed with an equally dense mass of varied humanity…..sometimes shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow. People dressed in the traditional Vietnamese garb were intermixed with soldiers in their uniforms, Westerners, assorted foreigners in their native dress…..and always the children, many small ones who were naked or only scantily dressed.

The street scenes were something that I had never seen before: colorful, exotic, sensual. The streets are lined with open front stores and shops, selling…..well, almost anything you would want to buy. The sidewalks were a jumble of little kiosks…or tables….or simply with merchandise which was laid out on the sidewalk. The vendors were calling out to the passers-by, imploring and enticing them to buy their wares. We were always puzzled at the amount of American-made goods which were available for sale. Merchandise which had obviously been stolen…..which was one of the common economic endeavor of some Vietnamese people.

There were streets devoted to selling flowers…..a beautiful sight. Streets devoted to selling food…chickens, ducks, pigs hanging from hooks. Other streets specialized in selling live animals. Or cloth. Or clothing.

The first few times my friend and I went into downtown, it was strange and exciting. And, there was also the ever-present, underlying feeling of uneasiness…..the need to be cautious. The need to always be aware. We always kept our money and wallet in our front pocket. It was far too easy to lose these to a pickpocket….and never know it until it was too late.

Underneath all the hustle and bustle, all of the seeming confusion….Saigon was really a very relaxed, laid-back city. Actually, contrary to outward appearances, nobody was really in a hurry. Sooner or later, everything would get done…..maybe. Saigon shut down during the early afternoon hours…..sort of a siesta time. Shops and offices closed and the people disappeared from the streets for two or three hours during the hottest part of the day, only to come back to life again….like lifting a flood gate.

After a while, the newness wore off, and everything started to take on an air of familiarity. The newness wore off…..the excitement diminished. But the charm of the city became stronger…..like a magnetic field that never weakened.

When my enlistment time came to an end….yes, I have to admit, I was somewhat eager to return home. Not because I wanted to leave Saigon…..or even that I was tired of being in the Army. A former boss of mine, who was now the military attache in Turkey offered me a job….a good job. I turned it down, too. I looked forward to going back home again to reunite with family and friends.

No sooner had I gotten home….and I started to become restless. I enrolled in Sterling College in order to become certified as an elementary teacher. It was during my student teaching days….a complete joke because I had already taught for two and a half years…..I was sitting in the back of the classroom thumbing through a magazine to relieve the boredom…..a magazine called “Redbook”, I think. As I was casually flipping through the pages, I came upon a story about the International Voluntary Services….how it was made up of young volunteers who were committed to working in under developed places like South Vietnam to raise their standard of living.

Ah, ha! I knew immediately that this would be the way I could….and would….return to South Vietnam.

And I did return….and spent the next three years living in South Vietnam….first in the coastal town of Phan Rang…..and then in Saigon. I was appointed as the Associate Chief of Party for Education, a position that placed me in nominal charge of about 72 teachers who were scattered about the country teaching English.

It was during these three years that I really became to know and love Saigon….and indeed, South Vietnam. After an unpleasant bout of hepatitis, I settled into what would become a familiar and comfortable pattern of living. Five days a week,,,,,during the day time…..I worked in my office in downtown Saigon. But….at night and on the weekend, I was free to roam about the city….and to become a part of it.

I know it probably sounds bad….but I spent almost every night in a bar. Yeah….it sounds bad, but aside from staying in my room, where there was no air-conditioning and where the electric power was sporadic, it was more comfortable to simply go sit in a comfortable, air-conditioned bar. There was a constant stream of volunteers who came through Saigon…..each of whom expected to be entertained. And, about the only constant source of entertainment was going to a bar.

Contrary to the culture of many people here in the U.S.A……Yes, you can go into a bar, sit all evening…..and leave the bar sober! And, that is basically what we did. The bars of Saigon….at least the ones we frequented….were safe, friendly places. Well…..for the most part. We took special care to stay out of bars where Australian soldiers or South Vietnamese soldiers were likely to be found. They were crazy…..or could be…..after they had had a few too many drinks. They obviously were fond of fighting….brawls. Chairs would be broken; mirrors smashed; tables overturned; lips bloodied; eyes blackened. The MP’s would be called…..they would arrive and break up the fight. I really have no idea what happened to these soldiers. I know that the South Korean MP’s….or whatever they were called….could be vicious. It was simply better to avoid places like this.

By the time I had returned to Saigon, I was already familiar with a few bars that we had discovered while I was there in the Army. We chose our bars mostly based on the kind of music that was being played. For example, one bar….our main bar….had an awesome guitar player….and also a terrific drummer. Not to mention an American singer who performed there almost every night. She worked in a government office somewhere in Saigon. Another bar….our second main bar…..had a clarinet player who could easily have played for a major symphony orchestra.

We visited these bars so often that we became acquainted with most of the musicians and waitresses. Why shouldn’t we know them? We were there almost every night of the week. It wasn’t long before we had a “reserved” table in both of these bars…..and right up close to the stage. As soon as we would walk into the door, a waitress usually spotted us, and it wasn’t very long before we had a gin and tonic sitting in front of us.

Another of our “traditions” was to sit and sip coffee on the veranda of the Continental Palace Hotel on Sunday morning. Here we could sit in the relative coolness of the veranda with ceiling fans turning leisurely above us, stirring the air just enough to keep it comfortable. From our table we could relax and watch the Sunday morning traffic as it converged on two of the fashionable Saigon avenues….To Do Street and Nyugen Hue Street. Immediately in front of us was the old Opera House, which was used for a variety of purposes….National Assembly Building (when this was allowed), or as an art gallery. Or an exhibition space. It was not at all unusual for the purpose of buildings to change almost overnight. Straight ahead of us, across the wide plaza, was the Rex Hotel….home of many of the news gathering and reporting organizations.

Actual “culture” was hard to find in this city in the midst of a war taking place in the countryside. And, this was true especially for Americans. There were no English-speaking movie theaters. No symphony orchestra. No live theater performances. No performances by popular rock bands. No educational opportunities. No lectures or forums.

Yes….there were art galleries…..most of which featured Vietnamese artists…..and most of the subject matter centered around paintings of Saigon….or the immediate area around Saigon…..or of the war. Looking back, I wish that I had bought some of the paintings to bring home with me. But, somehow I never thought of that at the time. And….yes, there was always live music to be found in the bars. But this was local talent….some good and some not so good. Then, there was the local, exclusive tennis club and the house racing track. I never went to either of these places, so I don’t if they were frequented by American or not…..although I suspect that they were both hangouts for the more affluent.

The major American attraction that we could count on every year was the Bob Hope Christmas Show. Every Christmas season, Hope and his entourage of popular American singers, dancers and comedians would perform at several military installations around South Vietnam. These shows were carried out under tight security….and were always popular with the troops…..and civilians, too. I saw all of them….all four years that I was in South Vietnam….and I enjoyed them. They were a touch of home…..a touch of the familiar. (Even though I found out later that for Bob Hope, they were mainly a lucrative source of revenue because they were filmed and always aired on TV back in the U.S.A. at a handsome profit for him. Oh well…..)

I remember one day we found out that an American ballet company was coming to Saigon for a performance. It was hyped as a major cultural event. And, tickets were difficult to obtain. Somehow our organization was able to come up with eight or ten of these coveted tickets. The ballet was being performed in the late afternoon in one of the downtown (Vietnamese) movie theaters. We all took off work early, got dressed up in our best clothing….and set out for the theater….ready to welcome a bit of American culture to our lives. Wow! What a shock. What a let down. The ballet troop consisted of several overweight women along with some middle age men dressed in tight fitting leotards…..that they should not have been wearing! The entire performance was almost comical. Looking back….maybe it was supposed to be. No….I don’t think so. We left the theater feeling let down, dismayed, bewildered……and very annoyed. I am sure their intentions were good and noble. But, if they had day jobs……they should have stuck with them.

Being a guest in the home of a Vietnamese family was a pure delight. The Vietnamese people have a special capacity for making a guest…..in my case, an American guest…..feel welcome. They possess a certain flair for making a person feel special….the center of the universe at that particular time and place. There is much bowing and gesturing….never-ending smiles….and much scurrying around to assure the comfort of the guest. And….there is always tea! You can count on it. You can set your watch by it. And, not big glasses of ice team with a slice of lemon. Oh, horrors! No…..you will always be served hot tea, poured out of a tea pot into delicate little tea cups. And…..it is polite….almost mandatory…..for the guest to sip the tea. Not to take at least one little sip of tea would be a serious social mistake….and mark you as somebody who does not appreciate their hospitality….or their home….or maybe even them. It would be a great disappointment to the Vietnamese host or hostess…..and maybe even an insult. But, be forewarned: As long as you empty the tea cup…..another cup will be poured immediately. Your cup will never remain empty for very long. So…..unless you are really thirsty…..and you really want to keep drinking tea…..always leave some tea in the cup. That will indicate to your host that you are satisfied…..and no more tea will be offered. Actually, the same is true of food, if you are invited for a meal.

I am not the only person who found the allure and charm of Saigon and its people to be appealing and magnetic. Hundreds of American military and civilian personnel stayed behind in Saigon….or returned to Saigon (just like I did) after their tour of service had ended or after their civilian contracts had expired. Hundreds of them married Vietnamese girls and either brought them to the U.S.A. to live or stayed behind to try and make a life for themselves in South Vietnam…..mostly in Saigon. When the South Vietnamese government collapsed and the communists took over, their dream of staying in Saigon also collapsed when they were forced to flee the country…..which most of them did, along with their wife….and most of their wife’s family. But….who knows how many opted to stay behind and take their chances with the newly victorious communist regime.

Saigon has a way of seducing a person…..of working its beguiling magic on those who have lived there….always enticing them to return. For me, it a feeling that never seems to go away.