Ahhhh….. Spring Break. The time that most students take off for

South Padre Island or Miami or the Bahamas…..to rest and relax and frolic on the sun-drenched pristine sandy beaches. A time to leave the burdens of school behind….to free the mind….to drink round the clock…..to go without bathing or changing clothing for a week…..

Yeah….. Fayez and I also went on Spring Break. But, we didn’t head for the beach. We headed for the Four-Corners….the point where Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado all meet. It is only place in the USA where this phenomenon occurs. No….It probably isn’t as exciting or glamorous as spending a week on a semi-tropical beach. But, on the other hand, it is not as expensive, either. And, it didn’t wreck our health or our wallets. And…. Yes, we did take a bath each morning….we did change our clothes every day…..we did get a reasonable amount of sleep. And…NO, we did not drink around the clock. In fact, now that I think about it, not a drop of alcohol was consumed.

So….. Maybe you are asking: Why choose the Four Corners? It is part of our continuing quest to visit all fifty states. And, what better way to kill a bunch of birds with one stone than to go to a place where four of them meet. A place where a person can actually BE in four states at one time….albeit with one hand and one foot in each state. But…. Still!

I had already been to the Four Corners four or five times, so it was nothing new to me. However, it afforded Fayez an opportunity to add to the number of states he has visited. Truthfully…. He added only two new states…..New Mexico and Arizona. He had already been in Utah and Colorado….and Kansas and Oklahoma and Texas. But, this was new territory, so it was all a new experience for him.

As is normal for me, I started planning the trip about six weeks before we actually started on the trip. Either fortunately….or unfortunately….all the campgrounds were still closed for the winter. And, there were no campgrounds to be found on the desert near the Four Corners. Fayez decided later that this was probably a fortunate thing… Me, too, as far as that is concerned. Booking motels during the middle of March is not much of a challenge. This is not part of the peak tourist season. I booked what I hoped would be comfortable hotels…..not the cheapest, but also, not the most expensive.

The unexpected surprise arose when I attempted to reserve rental car. OK…. Let me ask you a question. When would you expect the peak rental car seasons to be? Thanksgiving? Probably…. Christmas? Well…. Maybe. Summer vacation? For sure…. Graduation? Well…. Believe me, it is. I found that the hard way. But, what about Spring Break? It you said “Yes”, then you are more perceptive than I was. Spring Break never entered my mind as a possibility. But, when I tried to rent a car for our trip about a month before we left….back in February….I was surprised when there was was not a single rental car to be found in either Topeka or Lawrence. In fact, when I checked the Topeka rental agencies, I thought the web sites were not working properly…..maybe they were offline…. Yeah! All of them! So, I started checking the rental agencies in Lawrence. Then it began to dawn on me…. There were simply no cars for rent that week. Ah, ha! Spring Break….. I was sort of in a mild panic. What if there were NO cars at any rental agency?

I certainly was not about to start out in my Suzuki. I am

adventurous….but I am not stupid! (Yes…. Everybody has their own opinion!) Fayez had wanted me to drive to Wichita the day before we left, so he would not have to drive to Valley Falls. So, I checked on the rental car companies in Wichita. Good Luck…. There were cars available. Maybe none of the WSU students go home during Spring Break….or maybe they all live in Wichita…..or maybe they all own cars…..or maybe they never learned to drive. But, I didn’t waste any time. I reserved a car. OK…. The arrangements for the trip were complete. Thanks to me…..

Early Monday morning, March 20, we drove out of the parking lot of Fayez’s apartment and headed west in our 2017 bright blue Hyundai Elantra. The weather was beautiful….sunny and warm….temperatures destined to read the middle 80’s by mid afternoon. Our goal for the day was to drive to Clayton, New Mexico. I knew….but I am not sure Fayez knew….that the elevation for the next eight hours probably would not vary more than one foot. We people who live here know it is a complete myth concocted by “foreigners”…. But the trip from Wichita to Clayton would surely have convinced anybody that Kansas is for sure “as flat as a pancake”.

The first stop of the day was in Greensburg, Kansas. Greensburg, as many of you Kansas residents will recall, was virtually wiped off the map in a devastating tornado the night of May 4, 2007. The tornado, which swept through the town in just a matter of minutes, was possibly the most devastating physical event in recent Kansas history. The tornado destroyed…..literally leveled…..95% of the town and killed eleven people…..all in the matter of just a few short minutes.

My interest in Greensburg lies in the fact that my brother was principal of the grade school and junior high school back in the late 1950’s and the 1960’s……a position he held until he moved to Junction

City in 1969. I remember making at least at couple trips to Greensburg on the train to spend a couple days with him. I also recall taking Mother to Greensburg to visit. So, the town has a place in my memory.

Shortly after the rebuilding process began, one of the satellite television channels began airing a multi-part series on the rebuilding planning and progress. I thought it was a fascinating series, and I never missed a program as the show chronicled the slow rebirth of the town.

The town was rebuilt as a “Green” town….meeting certain standards set by some organization. In order to receive a building permit, builders…..both private and business….had to meet certain “Green” building codes. There seemed to be a great deal of controversy surrounding this decision…..and as I recall, there was some local political turmoil.

After the series finished, I never followed up on subsequent ordinances and building codes. I am not going to make any sort of judgment on the correctness or the wisdom of this decision. I am rather certain that because of these restrictions and additional requirements, building costs were considerably higher than normal. The population of Greensburg in 2000 was 1574 people. Of course, for a time, the population was technically next to Zero. According to the estimated 2015 census, the population was 798…..or just about

half the population when the tornado hit.

Anyway, be that as it is…..I wanted to take some pictures to show to my brother….especially of the school. So, we took a brief tour of the town, paused to take some pictures…..and then moved on. One things for sure…..Greensburg once again looks like a “town”…..with no visible signs of the terrible destruction caused by the storm ten years ago.

 

 

 

 

 

Our ultimate destination for the day, as I said earlier, was Clayton, New Mexico. Why Clayton? That is the question my sister-in-law asked when I told her where we would be staying that first night. “There is nothing in Clayton. It is just a dirty little town out in the desert.”

Yes…. There is not much tourist allure to draw a person to Clayton. But, the town is where a couple of my friends live….a former colleague of mine. And, it is also almost exactly one day’s drive from

where I live in Ozawkie Township.

Probably about a day’s drive from my house…..but a couple hours closer from Wichita. And….I hadn’t taken into account the time change…..a time change to our advantage. Instead of driving into Clayton at around 5:00, as I had originally envisioned, we drifted into into town around 2:30 local time….easily found our motel….and were looking forward to a little rest from the day’s trip. Check-in time was 3:00….and apparently when they say 3:00, that is precisely what they mean. Anyway, our room was not ready. “Come back at 3:00,” the receptionist told us.

So…. We had thirty minutes to kill…or fill. As luck….and the

distrustful GPS….would have it., we did not take the normal route….the route that most sane people would have chosen. I am telling you, people: Take charge of your trip. Do not trust the GPS! More times that not, it will steer you wrong. To put it simply, it did not route us through Texas, as I had expected. Thus, we were left without  pictures in front of the Texas state sign. Fortunately, the Texas border is only 10 miles east of Clayton. With nothing better to do, we climbed back into the car and headed east to Texas. After taking photos of each of us posing in front of the Texas sign, we walked around the sign a couple times….just to honestly say we had been in Texas. I am particular about these things….even though Fayez could have cared less. I did not want to go back home and show pictures of us standing in front of the Texas sign, when we had not actually been in Texas. Both of have been in Texas previously. I have been there many times, but there is nothing like being honest….at least, technically

honest….when bragging…I mean talking…. about the trip.

We met Tom and Sherry Lambert at the Eklund Hotel for dinner. Sherry is a former colleague of mine. She taught the business classes and the computer classes in the same school district where I worked. Among some other titles I possessed, one of them was Technology Coordinator. How I got that job has always mystified me. Me? Beryl Darrah? Technology Coordinator? Maybe it was because I was one of the few people in the school district who owned a computer….or maybe I was the only one. But, believe me….the bar was set at its lowest point…whatever the criteria were.

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, Sherry bailed me out of so many situations. She should have been receiving my salary. No doubt about it. At any rate, she and Tom and I became friends….and the friendship endured. The last time I saw her and Tom was in 2006. I stopped to see them in Clayton….first on my way to my job in Big Bend National Park….and again on the way back home three months later. Prior to that I stopped at their house when I took my foreign exchange students to the Four Corners.

It was Sherry and Tom who introduced me to a rather remarkable place that I had previously never heard of….Palo Duro Canyon. This spectacular canyon….located south of Amarillo, Texas, is the second largest canyon in the USA…..and obviously does not get the fame or attention that the larger Grand Canyon receives. However, Sebastian and I were on our way to the Four Corners….must have been back in 2000. As usual, we stopped at the Lamberts on our way. They informed us that blizzard warnings had been posted for that area….and driving through the mountains probably was not the best idea. We began searching for other alternatives….and this was long before I had worked in Big Bend National Park. They suggested Palo Duro Canyon. I was dubious at first. I had ever heard of the place. But faced with the other alternatives….like driving back home!…..we set out to explore something new.

Let me say…. The trip was well worth the time. The roads leading down into the canyon are beautiful and dramatic; the scenery is awesome and often breathtaking. But….that is another story.

We met at the Eklund Hotel for supper. The Eklund Hotel is one of Clayton’s historical landmarks….much of it has been preserved in its original architecture. We enjoyed a pleasant and leisurely meal among what I am going to assume were some Clayton’s elite citizens. While Tom took Fayez on a tour of the hotel, Sherry and I sat and caught up on the past few years.

After the meal was finished, we followed them to their home where we spent the evening in pleasant conversation. Although I have been to their house at least three or four times, almost nothing was familiar. None of it seemed to ring a bell. Actually the last time I was there with one of my exchange students….in 2000 with Sebastian….they were both still working and were not at home when we arrived. But they had left the house unlocked for us and had told us to go in and make ourselves at home. Almost immediately after arrived, there was a severe thunderstorm…..and we sat in the dark waiting for them to return.

Over the past years, they have made many modifications and improvements. We lingered longer than we had planned, and as we returned to our motel room, it was almost time to call it a day…..and look forward to the adventures of Tuesday.

For some weeks, I had been telling Fayez about “Indian Bread”…..or, at least, that is what I call it….extolling its virtues, not to mention its good taste. I assured him that this would indeed be one of the highlights of our trip. Authentic bread made by authentic Indians….or, we should correctly refer to them as Native Americans. Fayez was looking forward to it….at lot, I think. We mentioned this to Tom while were were visiting with them, and he told us of a little town where there would be several

roadside stands or kiosks where this would be available.

As we woke up on Tuesday morning and continued our journey toward Taos, New Mexico, this was destined to be a major event of the day. As is his usual habit, Fayez typed Taos into the GPS….and off we went. We made it out of Clayton successfully, but that proved to be only thing that went right. We drove and drove. Fayez kept asking, “How far is it until we find the Indian bread?”

“It shouldn’t be very far,” I kept telling him. But…I kept thinking, “Where are all the mountains and the winding roads?” After an hour or so of not-so-familiar territory, I began to suspect what I should have known all the while: The GPS had taken us the wrong way. In fact, we were actually heading AWAY from the little town. And, of course, we had driven much too far to even consider turning around and retracing our route. The GPS had done it….again. Fayez tends to put more faith in the GPS than I do. I have had too many experiences of bad advice from that little brainless object. Reading and following a map takes more effort, but it is far more accurate. When using a map, we are seizing control of our destiny…..instead surrendering it to device that couldn’t care less.

“Well,” I told Fayez, “All is not lost. We will still be able to get some Indian bread at the Four Corners.” Actually, this is where I had eaten it in previous years, anyway. So, with a degree of hope restored, we continued on to Taos.

Taos is a quaint, picturesque little town….cleverly disguised as a little Native American enclave, with faux Spanish architecture, with a touch of the old Southwest and Native American culture mixed in for good measure. I think that back in the “old days”, Taos was actually an authentic, poor little community with actual roadside stands where Native Americans sold the good they had actually produced with their own hands….pottery, blankets, art objects….as well as authentic food. I can still recall my fifth grade teacher telling us about bargaining with the Native Americans before she bought anything….trying to whittle the price down….and how clever and slick the Indians could be in holding out for the top price they could coax out of the tourists. I wish we had checked….and I will on my next trip…..but I can well imagine that a vast majority of the

“genuine” merchandise was produced in Taiwan or Sri Lanka or China. Maybe I am wrong….and if I am I will certainly report it in the blog of any subsequent trips.

 

 

 

 

 

Taos is a pleasant and interesting diversion from desert driving…with lots of shops to check out, a few art galleries, a tiny museum, bustling cafes and coffee shops….and, most important of all….restrooms. The only purchase we made in Taos was at a chocolate shop. The chocolate…or toffee, in our case….was delicious, without a doubt. But, who knows where it was really made! And…..really. Who cares?

We spent Tuesday night in Farmington, New Mexico, in the northwest corner of the state. This city seems to be one of the gateway cities to the Four Corners area. I found this out the hard way….and these are usually lasting lessons. The first time I made the trip to the Four Corners….with Frank Schreiber, I think….I did not bother to make any advance plans. Don’t ask me why? I knew better. We went in May of 2003. I was probably thinking, “Most schools aren’t even out for the summer. How busy can it be down in the desert?” And, that no doubt was true. The flaw in my reasoning was not in the number of people seeking motel rooms. The error was not even checking to see if a motel even existed!” My plan was to stay in Shiprock, New Mexico, our second night. I mean….on the map, Shiprock is written in bold print. Any town with bold print should have a motel…..Right? Wrong! We ended up driving back to Farmington. The distance between Shiprock and Farmington is not an insurmountable distance….but it certainly was not convenient, either. Especially

since we were driving after dark.

Bright and early on Wednesday morning, we were in the car and headed toward our grand destination: The Four Corners. The single attraction along the way was….Yep…Shiprock! Shiprock is a large….and very large…more than 7000 feet tall….bolder jutting up into the sky literally in the middle of nowhere. It is difficult to miss. In fact, unless a person is legally blind, there is no way to miss it. It dominates the landscape for miles around….just sitting there looking a little bit like a ship sailing across the desert….if you use your imagination.

We arrived at the Four Corners Monument with a minimum of trouble. Our trouble began after we had arrived. The Four Corners Monument is located literally out in the middle of nowhere…..just sitting there in the desert. It is only place in the USA where four states all join together and touch each other. Believe me…..that is only thing that makes it unique. No motels, no restaurants, no cute little boutiques, no amusement parks…..really, no parks at all. There are no trees, no flowers, no lush lawns….and probably no running water. No…. It is just a spot in the middle of the desert where four states….Arizona New Mexico, Utah and Colorado….happen to touch each other.

Normally, it is a place where people come….take a couple pictures….maybe look at the merchandise that several Native American vendors are selling….and then leave. It is not a place for picnicking, for fine dining…..or for anything really. Except for the day we were there. There were perhaps a dozen young people…..teenagers…. That’s OK…. Maybe these were smart teenagers who decided that it would be interesting to take a look at this unusual phenomenon of four states joining together…..probably studying it in their geography class….. maybe honor students? Right? Wrong!! Very wrong.

I strongly suspect these kids were escapees from some juvenile detention facility….or more than likely from a juvenile psychiatric ward. No….. Now that I think about it, they had probably escaped from a drug treatment center….and were hiding out in the desert……and in the process, making life miserable for the other visitors.

It was fairly obvious that these idiots were either drunk or high. My vote is with High. Their behavior was out of control….and they were apparently completely oblivious to the fact they were making fools of themselves. They were completely un-selfconcious. They were lying down on the monuments, doing handstands, holding each other, giving each other piggy-back rides over the monument (I suppose into and out of each state.), sitting down on the monument…..

Not only were they oblivious to the fact they were acting like morons…..they also seemed oblivious to the fact the were preventing other tourists from taking their share of pictures. There was a sign posted….probably more than one….that clearly stated there was a limit of 3 pictures by each person. Really, the only way to get them to move aside for even a minute was to simply walk out in the middle of them….and disperse them, temporarily. Fayez and I managed to grab our few pictures by almost running onto the monument as soon as one of the other “legitimate” tourists had finished.

The visit was not a leisurely fun time, like it should have been. I think it safe to say that all the tourists were tense and unhappy…..having to take their few hurried photos before being displaced by the unruly group of delinquents again. While Fayez and I were there, nobody…..including us….had the nerve…..or perhaps the courage….to tell them to Buzz Off. But, I strongly suspect that sometime….and hopefully not very long after we left….a couple of strong red-neck Trump supporters came along and did the job for us. At least, I hope so….. That is one service to the country that I can truly commend and support. The Four Corners Monument seems to be privately operated by Native Americans in the area. Had this been a national park or a national monument, there would have been park rangers or park police who would have dealt quickly and decisively with the situation. But there wasn’t…..so Come on Trump Supporters….. Do Your Thing.

Behavior such as this is unacceptable and inexcusable. Monuments such as this one were constructed as a public service…..for the public to appreciate and enjoy. Our citizens….as well as travelers from around the world….go there with the expectation that they are going to not only perhaps learn something from their visit….but also enjoy and remember the experience. It is with their support monuments like this continue to exist.

Being deprived of an interesting, leisurely and memorable visit to the Monument….well, I guess it was memorable in its own bizarre way….we turned our attention to finding some Indian bread to eat. I asked a woman who was operating a jewelry stand where we could buy some of the bread. She glanced around and said normally there were vendors who had sold it….but apparently they had not arrived

to set up their little kiosks. I turned my attention to finding Fayez. He was engaged talking to another vendor….asking him the same question. His reaction and response was similar. He looked around, rather puzzled, and said, “They are usually here by now. I don’t know what happened to them.” And, he was unwilling….or unable….to give us any estimate of when they might be expected. Instead he asked us which direction were were headed, and then briefly disappeared into his little booth and emerged with a map. He proceeded to to give us direction to a place where we could find the bread….in a little town up the highway.

 

 

 

 

 

All of the Native Americans with whom we came into contact were very helpful and polite to us….always with a smile on their face….and always willing to offer assistance when they could. Even though we were not able to sample any of this coveted Indian bread, we left feeling very impressed with the helpfulness and thoughtfulness of the Native American who worked there….and the manner in which they made us feel welcome. Maybe this….in a small part, at least….compensated for the idiocy displayed by the juvenile delinquent teenagers.

We on toward Mesa Verde National Park….the Cliff Dwellings. As we drove through the little town where we supposed to find the Indian bread, we…or at least, I….made a cursory inspection of the little town to recognize the landmarks the Native American guy had described to us. And, I suppose it did not come as much of a surprise that I did not see any of them….. I think that by this time Fayez had already forgotten how terribly important the Indian bread once was.

There should be lot to say about Mesa Verde National Park. It is a hugely interesting place to visit. And, I suppose that somebody with a greater interest and a greater knowledge of Native American culture would and could go into lengthy and probably even interesting discussion of all the sites that can be seen there. But,

unfortunately, I am not one of those people..

My interest in this sort of stuff is minimal…..whether it is Indian ruins….or any sort of ruins. Many people are amazed by this fact, since my undergraduate major was in history. My interest, however, lies more in the history of the development of our government and our political systems. I will leave the “ruins” to somebody who has a greater interest in it.

Nevertheless, a few hours spent in Mesa Verde National Park is an experience that will fascinate almost everybody…..no matter their interests. I had visited the Park long ago….back in the 1980’s, and I remember it as being much more hands-on and interactive. Then again….I am starting to get rather old and senile (!) (in some people’s opinion, at least), and maybe I have forgotten how it was….or that I am remembering it the way I want to remember it….and the way I wish it was.

To get on with the story, however….. Mesa Verde National Park is the long-abandoned remains of an ancient Indian civilization. Dwellings….entire villages….have been built into the sides of cliffs….and fairly sheer cliffs, at that. These seem to be fairly self-contained units. The villages were reachable only by ladders which the people who lived there had constructed. As they stand today, they would be almost impossible to access had not been that more modern….and more durable….ladders had been constructed. Until I read the educational material explaining the villages, I marveled how the workers were able to come and go. Of course, there was always the possibility these were the people who invented rappelling….but that likelihood of that was rather slim. I was going to say it was rather

“remote”….but actually, these villages are “remote”.

The people who lived here lived primarily, if not solely, by agriculture and hunting. All the WalMart stores were apparently too far away. This being the case, it is obvious they had to leave the villages and return on a frequent basis. It was interesting to observe that these ancient people had a rather highly sophisticated system of storing and preserving their food…..by digging holes into the ground. They also devised rather ingenious systems of ventilation, especially clever in the underground houses.

Fayez remarked that he would have liked to have lived back in those days. My reaction was: “WHY?” Yeah….a person can stand there and look at all that stuff and imagine: It’s fascinating; it’s intriguing; maybe even glamorous in an imaginary, dream world sort of way. But live there….and then? Not on your life! Those people, no matter how intelligent and inventive they were, had a hard life. There was nothing glamorous or even attractive or alluring about it.

Yes, of course, you argue: If you didn’t know anything else, you would probably be living in an “advanced” society. But, it would have been a one-dimensional life: Get up in the morning and go to work! Hard work. Planting, harvesting, hunting, building, gathering….. Not to mention probably having to defend their territory from other tribes.

 

 

 

 

 

When they got home at night….assuming they got home….what was there to look forward to? Nothing! Eat and go to sleep. No… they didn’t kick back in their favorite recliner, pop open a beer and turn on the TV and watch their favorite team play. They did not take their sons to their Little League games or take their little girls to ballet lessons. They did not go to a neighborhood bar to hang out and discuss what an idiot Trump is. There were no books or newspapers to read….

No running water, no electricity, no means of communication…. No….None of these things we take for granted existed. Of course, I didn’t live back them, but I can imagine that life was pretty boring….and maybe even somewhat hopeless….. I can imagine their diet did not have a lot of variety….just whatever they could catch…or whatever they could manage to grow in the arid soil. No…..I can imagine they came home home exhausted after a long day’s work, almost totally exhausted…. Came home to darkness….except for a fire built in the middle of the room….

But, Who knows? Maybe we simply haven’t uncovered all their luxuries. But, I doubt it. And…. Also consider that entire families….probably extended families….all lived in the same small house….slept in the same room….. Think of those implications for a minute.

No…. As for me. There was not one minute that I felt urge or desire to transport myself back to those days. In fact, I think it would have been a perfectly miserable life.

But….I digress.  As I mentioned earlier, I remember being Mesa Verde being much more accessible than we found it this time. When Dusty Davis and I were there back in the early 1980’s, I seem to remember being able to park our car….and climb among the ruins. This may simply be an illusion that has formed because of the passage of time. However, there was one loop of the park that was still closed for the winter months. I suppose it is possible that this could have been the place where Dusty and I went. Probably not…. But, who knows? Today, all the view points are quite far from the actual ruins. The old villages….old “cliff dwellings”…. can only be viewed from parking lots on the far side of the canyon…..looking across and down up on them. As a matter of fact, without a zoom lens on my camera, it would not have been possible to take very good pictures. But, the distant view does afford a better perspective, I suppose.

Only the houses which were built down into the earth were available for closeup inspection. These excavated ruins are sheltered in large building….covered to protect the excavations from exposure to the elements of nature….and to protect them from the eventual fate of being swallowed up by the earth again.

These villages are separated from each other, and seeing them all requires from driving. We easily were able to see two of the three loops in a matter of a couple hours or so. We stopped to look at most of the exhibits and gave each of them a fairly thorough inspection, although we did not linger unnecessarily.

As we drove along from exhibit to exhibit….from village to village….I wondered if the people of each of the villages socialized with each other….if, indeed, they ever knew each other. Maybe they climbed the ladders every Saturday night and met at their local buffalo barbeque pit….drank beer…gossiped….and danced the night away to the sound of drums beating and women dancing. But….. No. I can imagine their lives were difficult, boring…..perhaps somewhat hopeless….and without much intellectual stimulation.

But, as the old saying goes: If you do not know something…. You cannot miss it.

After spending a pleasant evening in Durango, Colorado, in yet another disappointing motel, we left Mesa Verde National Park behind, left the semi-arid land of Indian Territory and headed up into the Rocky Mountains. We drove north toward Montrose, passing through some spectacular snow covered mountains. We stopped occasionally to take in the breathtaking vistas….and to take pictures. It was only the first days of spring, little of the snow had melted, and the mountains were white, gleaming with deep layers of snow.

Traffic was light, the day was sunny and calm…. There were plenty of well-placed pull-overs, making it easy and convenient to stop the car, get out and enjoy the awesome surroundings. The air was clean and crisp. Our senses were invigorated and alive. “You fill up my senses…..like the mountains in springtime….” (John Denver) Around every curve were more snow covered mountain vistas….almost begging to be photographed….to be enjoyed….to be savored. But…. Like I have always said: “If you have seen one mountain…. You have seen them all…” Yeah….I know. Not a very sympathetic or sentimental attitude….but, certainly a realistic one.

In contrast with some previous trips we have taken, this time we actually did stop a few times…several times, in fact….to take pictures….and not just keep driving. What point is there in taking a trip….especially a trip with such dramatic and dazzling scenery….if you come home with nothing to remember it by? Of course, a person cannot take a pictures of every mountain….no should he. In that case, he will find himself looking back on the pictures at a later time asking, “I wonder why I took so many pictures of the mountains?” Or “I wonder why I took that picture?” But, I always want to take enough pictures…representative pictures….of all that I have seen and experienced. Pictures help bring back memories and remind us of adventures and the joy we experienced during the trip.

We made brief stops in Silverton and in Ouray….both historic old mining towns….both of which have morphed into tourist towns over the years. Both of these town, especially Ouray, has become home to many of the rich and famous of the music and film world. Needless to say, neither of these two town is inexpensive. So, if you go there, expect to spend some money. You are probably paying not so much for the merchandise or service that you buy….but you are paying for the name. You know….Location…location…location. Ouray is home to several destination ski resorts in the winter time, and like many other little mountain towns, it works hard to maintain its quaint appearance and old mining town ambiance. Fortunately for Fayez and me….but not so fortunately for them….we managed to hold on to most of our money during our brief stay in both of those little towns.

After turning east on US 50 in Montrose, we made steady progress toward Colorado Springs, where, just as suddenly as we entered the mountain near Durango….we left them again….and headed toward Limon, Colorado, where we spent the final night of our trip. There really is not much to say about the territory between Colorado Spring and Limon, except that it is best to cover it as quickly as possible. It is, in fact….and if it is possible….more boring than Western Kansas. And, slower, since the entire seventy or so miles is all two-lane highway dotted only with sparsely small, forgettable little towns.

From the time we arrived in Clayton, New Mexico four days earlier, we had heard rumors and predictions of a major winter storm which was bearing down on central Colorado….if not the entire state. Out of caution, I had watched the weather forecasts rather closely. I wanted to be ready to change our route, if that became necessary….and take a

highway that would avoid any risk of danger….or possible delay.

When we checked into our motel room in Limon, I asked the desk clerk about the latest weather predictions. He did not seem at all worried. “Yes… They have been talking about it, but I think the storm is only going to affect mountain driving.” OK… That sounded good.

That night we watched the local weather forecast. They, too, more or less echoed what the desk clerk had told us: The storm was going to primarily be confined to the mountains. So, we drifted off to slumber land without any premonition that a blizzard might be imminent.

Sometime in the middle of the night….the very early hours of Friday morning…..I was awakened by noise originating from somewhere. I lay in my bed for a couple minutes and listened. Finally I got out of bed, went to the window and looked out. The wind was blowing with great fury…..and rain was pouring down in torrents….being blasted against the cars in the parking lot with all the force of a power washer….and was rebounding off the pavement like small marbles.

My immediate thought was, “Wow! I am getting a much needed free car wash.” I stood at the window and peered out for a couple minutes. Traffic was sparse…. I-70 was just beyond our motel. Other than the pounding rain and the driving wind, there was not much to

look at. So, I went back to bed….and slept rather peacefully.

When I rolled over and looked at the clock beside my bed, it read 6:30. Time to get up, take a shower, wake up Fayez, eat breakfast….and head the rental car in the direction of home. The sound of the wind was still clearly audible. Again, I pulled back the drapes and looked out into the parking lot. The scene outside our motel window sent ripples of apprehension down my spine. It was not what I had expected….certainly not what I had wanted to see. It was a scene that would strike fear into the heart of any traveler.

The cars in the parking lot were covered with a layer of ice. Not only the world outside the window coated with ice…. But, it was still falling from the sky….and falling at a steady pace. It was not a scene that inspired confidence or emboldened the spirit. I have lived through a great many ice storms. There is nothing about an ice storm that I find to be admirable. Ice storms are synonymous with danger and destruction….with inconvenience and disruption.

But, I knew nothing about the road conditions….or the current weather forecast…. I only knew what I saw. I chose not to disturb Fayez, who still snoozing away, unaware of anything beyond his own dreamworld. I proceeded to take a shower and get dressed. By this time, Fayez had awakened into a mild form of consciousness….enough so that I was able to give him a description of the weather taking place outside our window. Fayez, who in reality has had very few real-life experiences, tended to dismiss the situation.

While Fayez was taking a shower, I walked to the front desk of the motel to see if I could get more information on the weather conditions….and what to expect. The woman behind the counter…. She was the owner of the motel, I think…..said that I-70 was closed….both the west lanes as well as the east-bound lanes….the lanes we needed to travel on our trip back home.

No sooner had she told me this….and the power went off, leaving us….figuratively speaking….in the dark. No electricity meant no TV….which meant no access to weather information….which meant we were suspended in a state of uncertainty. The woman…the owner of the motel…was trying valiantly to contact a friend or relative of hers in another town. Her cell phone was losing battery power….and communication was becoming difficult.

For the time being, there was little we could do….except sit and wait. The absence of electric power meant no coffee maker, no waffle iron, no refrigeration….no microwave oven…. So, we sat in the relative gloom of the morning, the lobby lighted only by the cloudy skies outside, and drank rapidly cooling coffee….and ate food that did not require any preparation…. Thankfully, we were the first of the motel guests to reach the lobby, so at least we got what coffee had already been brewed. So…. We sat and talked nervously and looked out the window of the lobby and observed the almost complete absence of traffic on the street outside the motel.

 

 

 

 

 

It was well after 7:00 by now…. Fayez was about to go insane. He wanted to leave….he wanted to get back to his college work, to his research….but was tempered by the reality that the highway was closed to all traffic….and this was not one of our options. As for me: I really didn’t care all that much. Being trapped in Limon, Colorado, for a day and another night, was not going to permanently ruin my life. All I really had to do was call the rental car agency and explain the situation….and tell them I would be returning the car one day late. But, this was not an encouraging or even a humane thing to bring up at the time.

The woman assured us that we would be able to stay in the room for as long as the highway was closed. I appreciated that gesture made out of kindness. It was meant to be….and it actually was….reassuring and somewhat comforting. But, I also considered the gloomy facts: We would be assured of a place to sleep. But, with no electricity, there would be no TV…no Internet….no computer….no light in the room…no heat….and, probably, no hot water. So….the score at that point was Positive: 1 Negative: 7. Oh, oh…. I just thought of another negative: There was not even one comfortable chair in the entire motel room….unless you want to call a straight back desk chair as being comfortable. You can…..but not me!

So…. There we sat….trying to manufacture some sort of semi-optimistic conversation.   For the most part, Fayez’s brand of optimistic conversation was mainly, “We have to get out of here.” and “I have to get back to Wichita.” or “I have to work on my project.” Sitting there staring mournfully out the window, there did seem to be one bright spot…a small cause for hope. The freezing rain had stopped….at least, temporarily. We spotted a few snow plows driving past. But, were they clearing the highway…or were they clearing the city streets? The owner of the motel continued to gain more information on the

weather….and more importantly, on the road conditions.

As we sat, descending further into hopelessness, the electricity flickered back on. This brightened the mood of the room immediately….for by this time, other motel guests had entered the lobby/breakfast area. At least, there would be hot coffee….and waffles…. This also meant that they owner could begin to recharge her cell phone….which meant she could make more telephone calls….which she did. But, mostly, she was calling her employees to ask if they would be able to make to work that day.

It was around 9:00 when she cheerfully announced that the east-bound lanes of I-70 had been re-opened, at least temporarily. The west-bound lanes were still barricaded. But, that wasn’t our problem! Poor people stranded heading toward Denver or the mountains. We mentally wished them luck….and our sympathy.

That was all we needed to hear. We raced back to our room hurriedly packed our belongings and prepared to leave. Leaving was not quite so easy, however. The car was completely covered with ice. Luckily, it was not a solid ice….and by opening and closing the windows, using the defroster, and our bare hands….we removed enough of the ice and slush to take off.

Sure enough, the barricades to the east-bound lanes had been removed. The highway was not in good shape. Even though they had been treated….and even though snow plows had been over them recently….they were still in a dangerous state. I cautioned Fayez to drive carefully….and slowly. He was in a hurry to get back to Wichita….and for the first couple minutes largely ignored my warning. But….after a couple times of the rear end of the car fish-tailing, he was subdued enough to drive with more caution.

For about 50 miles, we were the only car on the highway. It was almost surreal. We had I-70 completely and entirely to ourselves. We began to question if we were even supposed to be driving on the highway. Maybe the highway had not opened yet. Maybe the woman at the motel has not understood. Maybe she had misinformed us. But…. We kept driving…. Actually, we didn’t have any choice at this point. Still….no cars. We looked into the rear-view mirror…. Nothing. We passed on-coming ramps. No cars…. Not even

a snow plow…. Not ever a highway patrol man…..

We knew that the west-bound lanes were closed… We could see the barricades that were blocking the entry ramps. Intellectually we understood why there were no cars in the opposite late….although that did little to alleviate the spookiness of the situation. We were alone on one of the busiest highways in Colorado.

The further east we drove, the condition of the highway began to improve. We were driving away from the storm….and apparently keeping well ahead of its progress. I kept checking my cell phone. We were still deep inside the area of the winter storm warning. We were not out of the wood yet, as the old saying goes….although in eastern Colorado, there are certainly no woods!

Finally, about 50 miles east of Limon, we saw an 18-wheeler driving down the on-ramp. As for me…. I had never been or relieved to see an 18-wheeler in my entire life. Life did exist! We were not alone! As we got closer to Burlington, Colorado, a few more vehicles began to appear. Traffic….east-bound traffic….was starting to return to normal. And, we felt, we were starting to return to the real world.

We were indeed fortunate. I kept checking the weather conditions in Limon. The blizzard did indeed hit Limon. The highway into and out of Limon closed again…. But, we really didn’t care. We were safely on our way back to Kansas

Yes…. It was “springtime in the Rockies” ….well, almost. But…. Give me springtime in good old Kansas. And…. Yes. We made it back to Wichita. Fayez went back to college. I came home. And, that, my friends….is how Fayez and I spent his spring break.

People often ask me, “Why do you keep going to Berlin? Why don’t you go somewhere else, for a change?”

First of all…..I have been a lot of other places. Paris….Vienna….Amsterdam…. Brussels…..Copenhagen….Tokyo….Manila….Saigon….Hong Kong….New York City….Chicago….San Francisco…..not to mention Topeka….Kansas City…..

Second…..I like Berlin. If I didn’t like it. If I didn’t find it to be fascinating. If I didn’t enjoy being there….. then I probably would not go back.

Actually, there are only two other cities that have held my fascination…..that had the magnetic pull…..of Berlin. Those two cities are Hong Kong and Saigon. And….under the right circumstances, I may have found myself drawn back to one of those cities over and over. But, if you are reading this….and if you have ever read a newspaper, you probably already know why those two are largely out of the picture now. How does a war and communism strike you as good reasons?

The first time I went to Berlin was in 1995. I went to Germany to visit my first exchange student, Sebastian Holzhausen. We had planned an automobile trip through much of Europe. Berlin was the first stop on our tour. So, I suppose one might say that my first trip to Berlin was sort of a lucky coincidence. I had very little to say about planning the itinerary of the trip. In fact, now that I think about it…..I had absolutely no input whatsoever. Sebastian never asked for my advice…..I just got into the car and went wherever he drove. And, from Sebastian’s viewpoint…. Why should he consult me? I had never been to Europe before. I knew nothing about it. On the other hand, I have a feeling that we more or less simply retraced the route of some of his former summer vacations with his parents.

My first recollection of Berlin….. my introduction to the city…..was the long drive down Kurfurstendamm…..the long, fashionable avenue that traverses most of the western part of Berlin from west to east….. At the time, I had no idea I was driving down probably the most famous avenue in Berlin, if not all of Germany. In fact, I sat wordlessly….nervously….hoping that Sebastian knew where he was going….and didn’t get us hopelessly lost. Sebastian was nervous, too. I could sense it. I wasn’t about to ask him any questions…..about anything. I simply kept quiet….and let him drive.

He did a masterful job of locating the place that would be our home for the next three night…..a youth hostel. This was a long shot from staying at the Kempinski….or the Berlin Hilton….but it was cheap. And, at the time, that is what was important. It was clean, too…. We were sharing the room with probably eight or ten other guys. But, the only time we spent at the hostel was at night when it was time to go to bed.

During that first time I spent in Berlin….those three days….I never had a clue where we were. It seemed to me that we were in one of the eastern suburbs….far removed from any action that might be taking place. I was not able to establish any “bookmarks”….or any reference points….or landmarks. We traveled by subway everywhere we went…and I mean everywhere. The only “landmark” that I truly recognized was the subway station where we got on the subway each morning…..and got off again at night. I had no idea where the subway station was located….not a clue where it was located in Berlin….no chance of ever finding it by myself.

Riding on the subway is a truly disorienting experience. After a person enters the tunnel, life just sort of ends. We sat there, often sandwiched between myriad other riders, staring out the window into darkness as the train lurched to a start….sped along its route….and lurched to a stop. I am not even sure we were speeding along. It is difficult to know such a thing while staring at darkness….. What direction are we going? Who knows? It could be any direction….. It all looks the same. No landmarks, no street signs…..

For me….that was a major problem. I was born and raised in Kansas. Everything is laid out in grids….one mile square. The sun comes up in the east….and it sets in the west. In order to find a location…. I must go one mile east, two miles north….etc. Or three blocks south, two blocks west…… That is just how we do it. That is what we have learned since we were born. It is the only logical method. In Berlin….probably in all of Germany…..maybe all of Europe…..nobody knows where north…south…east….west are. And….nobody really cares. They give me blank stares when I ask which direction is north. Why would anybody want to know that? What difference does it make?

I was rather fortunate, though. The sun shone almost the entire time I was there. I was able to establish my bearing by using the sun…..the same good old sun that shines in Kansas. Yeah….I am a real astronomer! A real Boy Scout.

During the first three days I spent in Berlin…..I had no idea where I was….at any hour of the day or night. I was very similar to a little puppy….just following somebody around. And, because of my disorientation from riding on the subway….going down into a tunnel….and coming out of another tunnel somewhere else….I never gained any sense of where I was. Did we go north? Or South? Or East? Or West? It was rather like going into a time-tunnel…..and always coming out in a strange…but often exotic….place. It was like little individual pieces of a puzzle…..a puzzle that had not been put together yet. Random paragraphs waiting to be re-arranged into a coherent story.

Very clear in my memory is the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church. Somehow I knew this must be a central point in Berlin. We walked down Potsdamer Str….the street just one block from the hostel we were staying in. In my mind, I had pictured this as being in an extreme eastern suburb of Berlin. We walked through the Tiergarden and then up the Avenue of the 17th of June…..viewing the Victory Tower in the distance. I again realized that we were back in the “civilized” part of Berlin.

As we walked along the Avenue of the 17th of June, I told Sebastian that there was a definite “Berlin Look”…..or “German Look”. He looked at me like I had perhaps lost my marbles….. I saw it then. I swear I did. It was in their eyes….. Today, for some peculiar reason, I no longer see it. I don’t know….. Maybe on that particular day, all the people we met were of some foreign origin. I doubt it. I am sure it was all part of my imagination. Maybe a slight sense of paranoia…. And, I can only imagine what they must have thought when they saw me…..if they even noticed me…..which they probably didn’t.

The only permanent damage which was caused by the constant riding in the subway was at Checkpoint Charlie. We visited Checkpoint Charlie late one afternoon. It was raining….so the sky was heavily overcast. Of course, there was no sun. No sun to help me adjust my directions…..to activate my mental compass. We stepped out of the subway tunnel somewhere…..and I did not have a clue where…..to a rainy, cloudy sky. And, as fortune would have it…..I was disoriented. My directions were messed up. In fact, they were 90 degrees off. This, I would find out later.

My brain works strangely. Well, I think it does. I have never really conducted an exhaustive study of other people’s brains….. But, once directions are implanted and stamped on my brain, they stay that way forever…..regardless of the sun…or the moon…or the stars….or anything else. This was, I am pretty sure, the only case of serious directional disorientation I have in Berlin

I lived in Phan Rang, South Vietnam, for almost a year. The sun came up in the west….and it set in the east! Every day. For one year. The South China Sea borders Vietnam on the east…..and Phan Rang is basically a coastal town. Every time I went to the beach…which was fairly often….I drove to the west. But, the day I arrived in Phan Rang, it was raining; the skies were overcast….just like the day we visited Checkpoint Charlie. The direction were burned into my mind….permanently. They ever changed.

The trip to Europe…..to Germany, specifically….and even more specifically, to Berlin….was a good introduction. Sort of Berlin 101. And, I think I passed the class with high honors. I went from having almost Zero control to having almost 90 percent control in all the subsequent visits.

One factor I changed immediately….and permanently….was to stop riding in subways and to start taking a bus to almost everywhere we went. I go to Berlin to see and experience the city. I like to constantly play “tourist” and gaze wide-eyed at the buildings, at the people, at the traffic, at the signs, at the monuments, at the parks…at the history of the city. I do not go to Berlin to stare into the darkness….into nothingness….into a state of suspended animation. I want to feel oriented. I watch the landmarks, the street signs. I become familiar with the flow of the city….pay attention to the directions….the relationships…..

After disembarking from a subway, I climb the stairs (or hopefully take an elevator or escalator) into a strange world of unfamiliar sights…..not knowing where I came from….or where I am….nothing to orient myself to a location or a neighborhood….nothing to tell me we have traveled north…or south….or east….or west.
Yeah…..I am fully aware that most German don’t care. They do not have a clue about directions….and it probably never occurred to them to be curious about it. Since most of them live in cities….cities that are never….never….laid out in “blocks”….little things like directions just are not important to them. But….I come from Kansas….a part of the Louisiana Purchase where the land was….and still is….laid out in block. Square miles; square blocks. And…..for the most part, Berliners are scurrying around too much to take the time to look up at the sky.

One of the few factors that I usually do not…and have not….had much control over is where we have stayed while I was in Berlin…..our living quarters…..where we slept at night….

Living spaces must be rented in advance of the time I arrive in Berlin. In some case, a few weeks. And…..in some cases…..especially in recent times, it has often been a rather stressful undertaking. Many landlords do not want to rent an apartment for only one month….IF they can rent it for….let’s say…..three months or six months. They will often wait until the last minute to make a decision….and tell me of their decision. And, all of this is done remotely……by e-mail…..a very impersonal….an easy way for a landlord to say, “No.”

More than likely, however, I ask one of my former German students to help with the arrangements. None of them live in Berlin. So, they, too, are more or less dealing remotely with the landlord….or more likely….a rental agency. Although, they are in the same boat as I am in when it comes to knowing exactly what the apartment is like, at least they can communicate by telephone…..in German…..and ask a lot of necessary questions. Questions like…. Where IS the apartment? Is it close to a bus route that ends at the Zoo Station? Is there an elevator in the apartment building? Is there really a couch that converts into a bed? Is there Internet access? ALL of these are nonnegotiable requirements. The lack of just ONE of them can ruin the deal.

Usually rental agencies are fairly honest in answering these questions. If they don’t rent the apartment to me…..they will soon rent it to somebody else, with fewer demands. In return, they usually have concerns of their own. The first among these concerns is their fee! That is paid up front…..before any names or definite addresses are given out. And, that is something that my German students have always been kind enough….considerate enough….to pay. Then, there are other obvious questions: (1) Any pets? “Yes, I am bringing my pet pig with me.” I have always found this to be a curious question to ask a foreigner. Pets must be quarantined for a period of time before they are released to infect the public with dreaded diseases. (2) Does anybody smoke? Well, I can understand this questions. I wouldn’t want anybody to smoke in my house, either. (3) Any small children? Well… only if I bring my three wives with me.

The BIG question, however, is money. This is usually a matter to be taken up with the person who owns the apartment, however. After the agency receives their commission, they are not very concerned with what happens after that. Here, again…..my wonderful German students have come to my rescue. They fork over the rent money….and I pay them back when I arrive. Fortunately, they trust me. At least, a little bit.

There has been only one time that paying for the rent was a problem. I do not remember why it was not dealt with in the usual manner….being paid by one of the Germans….and then ME paying them. But, I DO remember all the problems it caused. After inquiring if I could transfer the money electronically to the landlord’s account in Germany…..and finding out my bank did not have a clue how to do it, they suggested that they raise the daily limit on my debit card so I could simply withdraw the money from my account when I reached Berlin. The people at my bank had assured me they had changed the daily limit on my debit card to “unlimited” for the three weeks I would be in Berlin. “No problem,” they said.

You may be getting ahead of me at this point….. But, Yes! There was a problem. The first ATM that I tried refused to let me withdraw the money. “Oh, well,” I concluded, “This ATM perhaps does not accept foreign debit cards.” So, we found another ATM. Same thing. But….it would let me withdraw a much lesser amount. “Oh, so they didn’t change the amount,” I surmised. It was 10:00 in the morning…..3:00 A. M. back in Kansas. I felt a mild sense of panic. I had to pay the landlord in less than an hour. All I could do was hope for his understanding……and mercy.

Fortunately, he accepted the “down payment”, and said that I could pay the remainder of the rent when I was able to get the money from the ATM. There was no point worrying about it. My German student graciously agreed to loan me some money until I could call my bank and get the situation straightened out. That wouldn’t happen for at least seven hours, though….. 5:00 P.M. German time. We were very frugal in our spending that day. At 5:00 P.M. I called the bank on Skype. “Oh,” they insisted, “we changed your limit. You should be able to withdraw as much money as you want.”

“OK….Can you please change it again?” I asked.

The bottom line is…..I was never able to withdraw more than my normal daily limit. I gave up trying. I simply paid the guy in three payments, instead of one payment….like it should have been….like they told me it would be. The landlord was very nice and patient….very much like many Germans. Maybe it is my honest face. Or maybe he had secret agents watching my every move….ready to snatch me up if I tried to escape without paying.

I learned a lesson. Use Western Union. Take enough cash to pay the bill. Prevail on one of my Germans to pay the rent until I can reimburse them. Or….change banks.

On my early trips to Berlin, I was at the complete mercy of my German students. I still am, to some extent. On the first several trips I made to Berlin, I had no clue where we would be staying until we pulled up in front of it in a taxi. And, even then, I wasn’t sure which building it was….or which door to enter….until somebody told me.

For the first ten years we stayed in hotels…..or in one case, a hostel. For the first several years most of the trips I took to Berlin were “quickies”…..a trip over spring break or for a few days during parent-teacher conferences….or whenever I could get a few days away from school. Somebody…..usually Sebastian or Frank….arranged for a hotel room. As I look back on those days, I chuckle when I think of some of the places they chose….sight unseen, I am sure.

On two different occasions we stayed in a hotel on Kaiser Fredrick Str., about a block south of Kantstr and a block north of the Charlottenburg Train Station. It was a nondescript building. The hotel was on the second floor….no elevator, of course. It had two beds, a shower, a couple chairs. The maids came in each day and made the bed, tidied up the place….so when we returned to the room at night, it was in relatively good shape. It certainly was not a 5-Star hotel. It wasn’t even a 1-Star hotel. In fact, I doubt if it was even a 0-Star hotel. But, it was an inexpensive….no, let’s make that cheap….place to live, and we were basically satisfied.

In order to get to the bus that would take us to the Zoo Station, we had to walk a block north to KantStr., a major east-west thoroughfare in the western part of Berlin. We recognized immediately that it was an annoying walk. The block was lined with all sorts and descriptions of sex shops, strip shows, and girlie bars. That, in itself, was not so unusual. Berlin is infinitely more liberal and tolerant that the USA….let alone Kansas…..ever could be, even in one’s wildest fantasy. The thing that was so irritating was that there were people….mostly men….stationed outside each of these establishments…..employees…..who would zealously attempt to entice passers-by into their little place of business….especially males. This was aggravating, but nothing I could not deal with. Actually, I am rather adept at ignoring people and things. They crossed the line…big time….when they started to reach out and grab my arm or shoulder. That is when my anger kicked in….again, big time.

This seems to be a common “sales” technique along that street. If they can’t persuade you by their sales pitch…..they will attempt to “guide” you into their place of business. I tried to be polite the first couple time…..and simply said, “No….” and jerked by arm away from them. But, being polite did not get the job done! I reverted to the role of the “Ugly American”…..and slapped their hand and said rather forcefully, “Take your hands off me.” Well….I may have used a couple extra adjectives to describe their hands….but, at least, they quickly released their grip…..

In those early days, I admit it: I was naive and innocent. In fact, we….actually I am talking about Sebastian….booked us into that hotel on two different occasions….in two different years. Like I said, the hotel was far from being luxurious…..but it was inexpensive…..and it had everything we needed. It wasn’t until a few years later, while I was reading through a couple of the Berlin guidebooks, that I discovered, much to my astonishment…..although I don’t know why I should have been astonished…..that this hotel was located in the heart of one of Berlin’s several “red light” districts.

Somehow I simply never put the pieces of the puzzle together. To begin with…..this was back in the days when I was still working. My visit were pretty short. I let Sebastian or Frank have complete control over where we stayed. Also…..I think we were so busy that I just didn’t worry about where we were staying…..just as long as we had a place to stay.

On the bright side….at least, I suppose it may be the bright side…. None of the sidewalk hustlers ever succeeded in dragging us inside one of their apparently thriving establishments. Some years later, as I was looking through a Berlin guide, a description of this exact street sort of jumped out at me. Kaiser Fredrerich Str…..Kant Str…..Charlottenburg Station….. Wow….that was the exact spot where our hotel was located. That was one of those “Ah-Ha” moments….when a light suddenly comes on in the brain….when the fuzzy becomes focused…… We were encamped in the very center of a Red Light District…. I think this became one of those “What you don’t know won’t hurt you” sort of realizations. We never stayed there again. And, now I also know why there were so many sleezy “hotels” located on that block!

Equally interesting was the apartment where we stayed in 2008-2009. This again demonstrates the danger….maybe uncertainty is a better word…..of renting an apartment over the Internet….sight unseen. If it met the basic criteria….bus line, elevator, two sleeping spaces, price….no other information was considered. Because no other information was available. When we searched the online web sites advertising short term apartments, this particularly apartment appeared to be imminently acceptable from my viewpoint. One of my Germans called the company to complete the arrangements for renting it for four weeks. Beryl is happy. Job done….case closed.

A few days later, I was doing some research on the area of Berlin where the apartment was located…..trying to get an idea of what was available in the immediate area. Things like restaurants, bars, grocery stores….. All of these amenities are important because they make our stay easier and less stressful. I was pleased to find that all of these conveniences were readily available. But….I was not very pleased when my eye caught another interesting fact: Our apartment was located in the center of one of Berlin’s most important Gay Districts!

Needless to say, I was not pleased with this bit of information. I began to read the names of some the bars in the area….within a two block radius. If I had paid attention to the names in the first place, I probably would not have been so surprised. I do not remember the names of them now…but they were descriptive enough….and suggestive enough….that a light in my brain should have clicked on immediately. Sometimes something has to hit me in the head like a hammer before I wake up, though.

Of course, by this time, it was too late to make any changes….to “un-rent” the apartment and start the search again. I called Frank and told him….warned him….of the situation. He found the situation to be quite amusing….much more amusing than I did. In fact, I thought he would never stop laughing. At least, he wasn’t upset….which was good, because he was in charge of making the arrangement to pay the rental fee, get the key, and set up a time to meet the owners so we could move in.

That was a year that a lot of things did not work out well….. The airplane I was on arrived late in Amsterdam. Too late to catch my scheduled flight to Berlin at 9:00 A.M.   The next available flight did not leave until late in the afternoon. Frank was already in Berlin when I reached him. Fortunately his parents’ home is less than an hour from Berlin, so he was able to go there for the day. The day I arrived….December 27….found Berlin in the coldest winter in about 50 or 60 years. That certainly was not very pleasant…..

Nevertheless, two men met us at the apartment at the appointed time….each of them wearing a wedding ring. But, the transaction was very professional and impersonal….as I settled into my new home for the next four weeks. Oh yes….one more bad thing. As a surprise, Frank had obtained two tickets to attend the Berlin Symphony Orchestra that night so we could enjoy a performance of Beethoven’s Symphony Number 9. Fortunately, he was able to exchange them for tickets the following night.

Normally we like to patronize bars and restaurants in the neighborhood where we live. At night, it just makes sense to patronize a bar or restaurant that is close to our apartment because we do not have to be concerned with finding transportation in the late night or early morning hours. After a certain hour, only select buses and trams operate….and even they are on a severely curtailed schedule. A couple times found ourselves standing at a bus stop for over an hour in the early hours of the morning waiting….and hoping….a bus will show up as scheduled. Finding a bar within close walking distance takes the uncertainty out of late night transportation and makes the evenings much more pleasant and stress free.

We have found that Berlin’s bars are no different from most bars almost anywhere in the USA. They like it when customers return night after night. Not only do they look at this as a dependable source of business….but, I suppose in a way, it is also flattering to them. It tells them that they must be doing something right. Usually after going to the same bar for two consecutive nights….and ordering the same drink….the waiter will automatically nod at us when we enter on the third night…..and almost immediately our drinks will magically appear. So….not only are the waiters pleased and flattered….so are we at being recognized and receiving good service.

However, during this particular visit, I think that we were not only hesitant to go into the neighborhood bars….but we also may have been just a little scared. After looking at some of the graphic pictures on the doors and windows of the bars….and after reading some of the admittance requirements….we were pretty much intimidated. Besides, we would have never met the “dress code” most of them imposed! We were also put off after observing the people who did enter the bars. Somehow, they just did not appear to be “our type of people”. We were not snobs…..just cautiously discriminating.

It was a result of this situation that forced as to look elsewhere for our nightly spot of rest and relaxation. We found it in the form of a neat little jazz club down in the Kruetzburg section of Berlin. It was a small, cozy club with not much interior seating, especially during the hours of the live performances. But, we were just as happy to be tucked away in the “back room” where the music wasn’t so deafeningly loud.

What it lacked in professional talent, it made up for in charm. There was a main room where a small stage was located….and where the entertainers performed. On the nights when there were no live performances, it was relatively empty in the early evening hours, and it was easy to find a table. But, on nights when musicians were performing, it was packed….and unless a person got there very early….maybe late-afternoon….it was impossible to find a place to sit. We never showed up in the afternoon, so I really don’t know. On those nights, however, we sat in the back room. Actually, this was probably the most desirable place to sit. As I said, the music was deafening…..but the Germans didn’t mind. They were an enthusiastic audience….cheering wildly at the end of each song. Who knows…. Maybe they were already drunk when they arrived.

Jazz…and Blues….simply are not German music. And, it was no doubt for the best! Actually, the music was terrible….far below the quality we would expect as an American audience, especially an audience of jazz lovers or blues aficionados Otherwise these musicians would probably have been performing somewhere in the USA. But, never mind all that. The Germans didn’t know any better; they loved it…..and I think I can safely say that the entire audience was German…..and the music and the raucous noise created an exciting and vibrant ambiance for the evening…..especially from the toned-down decibels which reached the back room.

This became a nightly destination of choice for that trip….and also for subsequent trips….especially when there were no neighborhood bars where we could hang out. The only two drawback to this night club were the distance from Central Berlin….and the need to leave relatively early in order to make sure we could catch the last bus back to the main bus station. Well….there was one more disadvantage. The rest rooms were located in the main room…..and in order to reach them, it was necessary to strong arm a path through the crowd to reach them.

Stumbling on this jazz cafe was no doubt the highlight on this trip. My German students probably found the location of our apartment somewhat more amusing than I did. In fact, even though they had no desire to go into any of the clubs or bars, they took great delight in my discomfort and us-ease. Frank, especially, couldn’t resist taking pictures of the entryways which listed the dress codes….and the windows with all the bizarre graphics that were displayed. That is…. He took pictures until I demanded that he stop. Being unfamiliar with this sort of situation, I was not at all sure this was an acceptable thing to do. Yeah…. It was “interesting”….and even funny in its own peculiar way. But the last things I wanted was a public confrontation with a bunch of gay guys who may have been insulted by our curiosity.

As for Sebastian: Well, I think the most amusing part for him was the name of the street where our apartment building was located. It was called Fugger Strasse (Street). I have no idea what that means in German. But…..I suppose in English it does sound vaguely suspicious! Especially since it sounds suspiciously similar to a word in English that we usually do not use in polite conversation.

The other apartments we stayed in over the years were not located in such exotic neighborhoods. One things I can say for sure: We never stayed in an apartment or in a hotel room that was truly comfortable. And, we never stayed in an apartment or in a hotel where the lighting even approached being adequate. If my vision had not been bad before I went there, I would certainly be justified in blaming my poor eyesight on the amount of light….the lack of light….in our rooms.

The first apartment where we actually lived in somebody else’s house was located in a northern neighborhood on Tschaikowski Str.….in a section called Pankow….one of those neighborhoods that is predominantly residential. It was also the only apartment that we had to actually walk through the owner’s living quarters to get to our rooms….and it was the only apartment where we shared the bathroom with the owners. It was also the only apartment where we had to walk up three or four flights of stairs. Needless to say, we did not do a lot of coming and going! It was the only apartment that did not have access of a city bus line. Instead, we had to ride a tram to Alexanderplatz….and then catch a bus downtown.

There was one neighborhood bar…..and a pizza place a couple blocks away, around a corner. The nightlife was not very lively, to say the least. And the trams stopped running at 10 or 11:00 at night. We spent a lot of time in the neighborhood bar. The easy accessibility was important. Here at home I can sit and watch TV….or mess around with the computer…..or listen to some music…..or read a book…. In Berlin all of the TV is in a foreign language for some reason! I think the language is German! Imagine that. As I said the light was too dim to even consider reading. Internet access is slow and restricted, in some cases. So, going out at night….sitting in a bar….is virtually the only means of entertainment.

Fortunately, every apartment we have stayed in has been in widely different locations and different environments. Each of them had its own unique attractions. The main attraction near the apartment in Pankow was the former home of the President of East Germany. It was a large mansion….a mansion by German standards, at least….set in the middle of a large plot of park-like land…..maybe occupying two square city blocks. It was surrounded by a rather high iron railing fence….attractive, but nevertheless intimidating. It is a public place today where people are free to wander around freely. But, I can imagine that during the years the Communists occupied East Germany, it was not quite so friendly.

The entire area where the apartment is located consists of older upscale homes. This neighborhood was the enclave where many of the top officials of the East Germany government lived during the Communist era. In fact….or so we were told…..several square blocks were closed off….restricted to the public…..during this period of time. The Communist government did not want the “common people” to see or even suspect the grand scale that these Communist officials were living. For the decades that the Communists were in control, the general population lived in poverty and were subjected to almost subsistence living. The contrast must have been quite striking….and it was important that government conceal their lavish standard of living for fear of a possible revolt of the people.

This was the one and only time that our apartment was located in a family home. We realized that our presence there was probably an inconvenience and maybe even a distraction, even though we went to great lengths to be as quiet and invisible as possible.

Another notable locale where we lived was in an apartment on Kaiserdamm in the near western suburbs of Berlin. Upon our arrival at the apartment, we were met by an elegantly dressed gentleman who owned the apartment. His attire would have easily gained him some pages in a men’s fashion magazine! The two or three times that we met him, he was dressed in a dinner jacket with an ascot or a kind of silk scarf around his neck….perfectly groomed. The first time, we merely assumed that we had interrupted an important business meeting….or perhaps a fancy social occasion. But, this seemed to to be his normal way of dressing…..his normal “uniform”. Of course, both Sebastian and I were too polite….or too chicken….to ask him about his stylish wardrobe. We also met his son on a couple occasions….and he was dressed in normal attire…..just like the rest of the world. And, he seemed like a perfectly normal young man. We never did figure out why his dad dressed to elegantly. Probably just because he wanted to.

The location of this apartment was memorable because this is perhaps one of the areas we had slighted during many of my visits to Berlin. It is also memorable because during our stay there, I became quite sick….sick enough that Frank called a doctor to our apartment. It was obvious that I had contacted a rather severe kidney problem…..and Frank and I were both starting to become quite concerned. A young doctor….a young female doctor…a young English-speaking doctor….arrived at our apartment….riding a bicycle…..quite soon after Frank placed the call. She quickly confirmed what I already suspected: I had a bad kidney infection. She have me some rather powerful…and potent….antibiotics.

She then engaged Frank in a rather serious…if not intense….conversation. Of course, I do not speak German, so I had no idea what they were talking about…..although I was pretty sure it was not about the weather. Actually, I was feeling badly….and I really didn’t care much what they were talking about. After a few minutes, Frank turned to me and said (and of course, since she spoke rather flawless English, she understood everything he was saying….), “She is worried about whether you are going to pay her or not.”

The thought of NOT paying her had never crossed my mind! Of course, I was going to pay her. She seemed quite relieved and happy when Frank counted out the money and handed it to her. Frank later told me that she said it was not at all uncommon for people….both foreigners and Germans…..to simply refuse to pay….or say they could not afford to pay. Either way, she was obligated to treat them. So….I like to think that she left our apartment with a rather positive attitude toward Americans. I had paid her willingly…..and had not been a “welfare case”. And, Yes…..I did recover!

The main attractions near this apartment were the close proximity of the Berlin Radio Tower, the German Broadcasting Corporation, the sprawling International Trade Center, the German Opera and Charlottenburg Palace. It seems that our exploration in Berlin usually centers around the locales in central and eastern Berlin. Maybe because they are all rather closely grouped together…..from back in the days when Berlin was actually a fairly small city.

Most people stand in line to ride the elevator to the top of the TV Tower….but not to ascend to the top of the shorter and much older radio tower. Or they prefer to spend time hanging out at the Riechstag Building….not a huge trade center. Bellvue Palace is much more convenient than Charlottenburg Palace….but not nearly as historic. The Berlin Opera House is older and is located on “history lane”, while the German Opera is a sleek modern building, but performs equally important works by equally famous composers.

These attractions, located within walking distance of our apartment, became important to me on those few days when I was left alone between visits from my former German students. I could easily wile away the hours by walking to one…or more….of these buildings….and not have to be bothered by taking the subway into central Berlin. As I have explained above, I avoided riding the subway…..and it was probably on the subway that I picked up the germs that led to the ill-fated….and very uncomfortable….and semi-expensive…..kidney infection.

Most of the apartments we rented were simply rented at random….because they were available and because the cost lay within our budget….and not because they were located close to a tourist attraction. In our good fortune, all of them have lay in substantially different neighborhoods of Berlin. While I do not pretend to be an expert on city living…..I mean! Look at me….I live in rural Ozawkie, Kansas!….I can well imagine that most cities are composed of a collection of neighborhoods which have their own feel and their own unique little “sub-cultures”. If this happens to be true….then Berlin certainly shares this characteristic.

Probably the only other apartment which had its own little set of tourist attractions was the apartment we rented in one of the near-north neighborhoods right off DanzigerStr. on LychenerStr. The apartment itself was probably one of the most miserable apartments we have ever stayed in. In the first place, we stepped into a pit of darkness….so dark that I doubt if an owl or a bat could have seen its way around. One of my camping lanterns provided more light than the feeble 15 watt bulbs gave out. But, in keeping with the traditional German spirit of thrift….or as I call it, penny-pinching….only the barest of essentials were provided. There literally was not a comfortable chair in the entire apartment…certainly not a chair with any form of padding…on the arms, the back or the seat! I am guessing they bought the furniture at a garage sale from some torture chamber that was going out of business. The sofa….if it could indeed be called a sofa….may have been an old castoff from a Victorian-style brothel somewhere in the city.

However, discounting how distressing the comfort of the apartment was, it was actually located in an active part of the city near a wide variety of restaurants and bars. One of our objectives on that visit was to eat our evening meal in a restaurant of a different nationality or ethnicity each night. Many nights we did not have to leave our neighborhood to accomplish this purpose. There were also a variety of late night and all-night bars where we could sit and talk and escape the misery of the dingy apartment. Actually, there were sufficient bars on our block to keep us occupied almost every night of my stay there. For me, it is comforting to have a place to go and sit at night and know that we are in a safe environment…..and not have to be concerned with bus schedules or waiting at deserted bus stops in the early hours of the morning. I would have to double check the statistics, but I would not at all be surprised to find that the city of Berlin, with a population of almost 4 million people, has fewer murders and assaults each year that Topeka, whose population is somewhere about one-fortieth that size. Having become accustomed to the crime rate in even rural Kansas, I am still uncomfortable standing outside in strange places in the middle of the night.

Within walking distance of our apartment was a major entertainment area and shopping center which had been formed from an old, sprawling, abandoned brewery. It was its own little protected venue, into which the only means of entry was accessed only through tall gateway arches in the walls that surrounded it. But…Alas. It was too expensive for our budget….except for the grocery store….so all we could do was look.

Also in the general vicinity….although a little longer walk….was the Berlin Wall Memorial. During the period we were there, it was in its early days of development and perhaps not quite so interesting as is may be today. Probably the major disappointment for me was the knowledge that this monument was not actually authentic. It was all reconstructed….a facsimile of the real thing. While I am sure this is true of a lot of the monuments, we had the misfortune of actually seeing it being reconstructed. Knowing the Germans, after the rebuilding process was complete, I am sure they went to great lengths to make it look “authentic”….to artificially “age” it….give it the mood, the appearance and flavor of the past. The Germans are good at this…. But, for me. If I see it again, it will probably look much different….and if I had not seen it in its formative stages, I would probably never question its authenticity. But now…. Beryl knows!

A lesser known, but yet well attended by tourists, is the Max Schmelling Hall….part of a huge sports park in the Prenzlauer Berg section of Berlin. The arena is named after a famous German boxer…..who was probably one of Germany’s most famous athletes. The arena was originally built as a boxing arena….What else?…. But, today it is used not only for sporting events….mainly basketball, I suppose…. but also for concerts and trade and industry expositions. When used for sporting events, the seating capacity is about 8,500, but when it is the venue for a concert, it will hold around 12,000 people. And, apparently is has hosted such artists as Madonna and Bob Dylan, but I suspect is used these days for more obscure German acts.

Another rather unhappy event that I associate with this apartment relates to a basketball game. The Kansas University Jayhawks had qualified to play in the Final Four that year. In fact, they had advanced to the championship game…. K. U. would be playing against Kentucky….the game that would determine the national champion. Sebastian and I both wanted to see the game in the worst possible way. After searching the Internet to find what sports bars were located in our general area, Sebastian started calling them to find out if they would be showing the game on a TV in their bar. Actually, it was not as difficult as we thought it might be to find a bar what said Yes, it would be playing on one of their TV sets. Great! The only problem: The game would begin at 8:00 Kansas time…..which was 3:00 A.M. in Germany. We had to ask ourselves the question: Is it worth staying up until 3:00 A.M. so we could see the game. Of course, the answer was a resounding YES!

I do not remember exactly what we did to occupy our time until that early hour of the morning…. We probably went bar hopping. But, shortly before 3 A.M. we took a taxi to the appointed bar. Sure enough…..they had ONE TV tuned to the big game. And….sure enough….Sebastian and I were the only ones watching the game. Somehow, I had expected more excitement….a more electric atmosphere. But, then I realized: Nobody in Germany cares about college basketball in the U.S.A…..no more than Americans care about their soccer leagues! And, that, I am sure you know….is Zero.

Sebastian and I sat huddled in our own little corner of the bar full of hope and anticipation. The game remained close for much of the first half. We clung to our faith in the Jayhawks. As the second half went forward, it became increasingly apparent that K. U. was not going to close the gap. They just did not have what it took to defeat Kentucky. In the end, Kentucky began to pull ahead by an even greater margin. Hope faded…. K. U. was dealt a decisive loss.

It was after 5:00 in the morning. We were several blocks from our apartment. We were tired….and somewhat disheartened. (That was back in the days when I actually cared!) All we wanted was to return to the apartment….and sleep. We began to ask ourselves….WHY had we done such a foolish thing? But, it all depends on the perception. IF K.U. had won the game, we would have been rejoicing. We probably would have gone to another bar to celebrate the victory. But, as it turned out….we took a taxi back to our apartment….fell into our beds…..and tired to forget it even happened.

A hotel that Frank arranged on one of my summer visits also holds some not-so-pleasant memories in the recesses of my mind. Located on a pleasant side street between Kurfurstendamm and Kant Str. was another of those hotels that at first glance looked wholly adequate….a small sitting area with a couple chair, a little kitchenette with the basic equipment, a small bedroom with a couple beds and a bathroom with a shower. Perfect! ……right? It was great for about 5 minutes….and then reality set in. We were startled by a deafening noise! Right outside the windows was the above ground portion of a subway line. The tracks were located about ten feet from our window…..and just like clockwork a train passed by about every ten or twelve minutes….rattling the windows, rattling the furniture…..and definitely rattling us! Traffic on that particular line started about 6:30 in the morning and continued on schedule….never ceasing….until around midnight. For the sake of our sanity, we had no alternative but to get up early in the morning…..and come home late at night.

Fortunately, there were a couple bars located within a few feet from the entrance to the apartment. It was summertime, and most, if not all, of our evenings were spent sitting at the sidewalk tables of one of these bars. Frank had mentioned that one of the bars was owned by a famous German athlete….somebody whom I didn’t know, of course….or had never heard of. He said he had heard that it was sometimes a hangout for the owner-athlete and some of his big time professional buddies. It was sort of exciting to be sitting in a bar which was perhaps owned by the German equivalent of Michael Jordan or Eli Manning. At any rate, it got us away from the brain-numbing sound of the subway train. Berlin summers are usually quite agreeable, so it was a good place to be.

One night as we were sitting there talking and drinking beer, Frank suddenly gasp! I was rather startled. What was the problem? Had he suddenly become ill? Had he just remembered something important that he had forgotten to do?

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

Frank was gesturing toward a nearby table….almost too excited to talk. I discreetly glanced in that direction….but all I saw were some people sitting there drinking beer and talking…..just like Frank I were doing. “See who it is,” Frank said excitedly.

Well…. It was definitely nobody that I recognized…. “It’s John Doe,” Frank said with utter disbelief. “Don’t you know him? Everybody knows him.” Well….probably everybody in German….but not me! (And, by the way, John Doe is not his real name. I have long since forgotten who the guy is.)

“He’s one of the most famous actors in Germany,” Frank explained. “Everybody knows him.” I looked him up on the Internet, and sure enough…. He is a very famous German actor.

It was probably like me looking up and seeing Cary Grant….or Clark Gable….or Humphrey Bogart….sitting next to me at the Golden Corral. Yeah…You probably don’t know those actors either…. But remember, I am old!

I urged Frank to go ask for his autograph….but I guess they don’t do stuff like that in Germany. It certainly was not because Frank is too shy. Frank didn’t go ask for an autograph…..but he could hardly keep his eyes off the guy for the rest of the evening. And me? I would not have recognized the guy again, even if my life depended on it. But, I can honestly say….. I have seen one of Germany’s most famous actors.

Yep…. I have seen a famous German actor…even though I don’t know his name. And, I have also seen much of the wide array of Berlin life as it is reflected through the diversity of its assortment of discrete neighborhoods. Berlin is much like a patchwork quilt with its separate little enclaves loosely stitched together into a harmonious and colorful pattern. In a way it is also similar to a tasty soup in which all the ingredients form an exotic and engaging mixture that blend together….and leave a delightful and pleasing taste that leaves me going back for more.

It was our farewell trip together before Sultan headed back home to Saudi Arabia to enroll in medical school…..to prepare to become my personal physician someday in the future.

Originally, we had planned a grand trip to the Oregon Coast….three weeks of fun and fellowship before his departure date. As a matter of fact, the trip was fully planned….everything was reserved….everything paid for….. And, this was not an easy task. We made the decision to take the trip much too late in the season. Take my word for it…..if you want to go to Yellowstone National Park….or if you want to stay in an Oregon State Park…..in the summertime….. you do not wait until a month before you leave to start planning and making the reservations.

ALL the yurts in EVERY state park along the Oregon Coast were already reserved. There was not a single one still available for the month of August. Actually, I wasn’t surprised…..just disappointed and a little angry at myself for such sloppy planning! There were rooms available in West Yellowstone…..but they were actually more expensive than the rooms Fayez and I had rented earlier in the year in Washington, D.C. and New York City.

After literally hours of effort, however, I was able to find adequate accommodations….mostly KOA cabins…..and some other assorted private motels and cabins….none of which were first class….and none of them on the ocean. But, at that late point, beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose! In light of the time restraints, I was actually pretty proud of myself for scraping together even such a motley collection of camping and sleeping places.

And, then….. Just as I finished the final arrangements…. It happened. The entire bottom fell out of the plans. All of the work proved to be for nothing. Sultan had learned that he had only two weeks after his last class to leave the country. His visa would expire.

I am not sure which was worse: the disappointment of having spent the time making all the reservations and seeing all of it go down the drain….or….having to take the time to go back and un-do everything….to cancel all the reservations. That is what I did, of course. The only reservation that I was unable to cancel was our hotel in Reno. Otherwise, all the campgrounds were cooperative and canceled the reservations and refunded the money. The hotel where I reserved a room in Reno had two prices…..One price….a lower price….was a non-refundable price. That, of course, is the price that I chose…..not remotely suspecting that we would be canceling the reservation. They refused to refund our money….which they had every right to do. But, on the other hand, they no doubt booked the room again…..and collected a double rent for the room.

At this point in the game, we seemed to have two choices: Completely scrap the trip. In this case, Sultan would simply come to my house and stay until it was time for him to leave. Or, we could plan a scaled-down trip that would fit into the time constraints we were now faced with. We chose to plan a new, shorter trip……this time to Colorado and southern Utah. We were able to keep the reservations we had made up through the night we would spend in Cedar City, Utah. This was helpful, because I would have to cancel only about half the reservations…..including the ill-fated stop in Reno….Sin City, Junior.

How does the old saying go? “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”

It really doesn’t make much difference if we are traveling for three weeks….or one week…..or two weeks…. We need to take the same amount of stuff with us to survive. And, again, the entire task of organizing the “stuff” became my job….just like it usually is. Fayez would bring Sultan to my house on Saturday, August 13…..and we would leave on Sunday. The original plan was for them to arrive at my house around 6:00 in the afternoon. From the very beginning, I doubted if would actually happen. Sultan was scheduled to take a language placement test in the morning. The final part of the test is the oral examination….which is a one-on-one conversation with a real human being. These conversations are scheduled after the written part of the test is completed…..each conversation lasting somewhere around 20-30 minutes. If a person is lucky….he will be among the first scheduled. If he is not lucky…..it could mean a wait of a few hours before his appointment was scheduled. Well….of course….Sultan was not lucky! His oral examination was among the last of the afternoon….somewhere around 4:00 or so.

Sometime in the afternoon, Sultan called to give me the “bad news”….although, like I said, it was not entirely unexpected. Now his expected arrival time would be approximately 11:00 P.M. Really….I was disappointed, but this didn’t alter the fact that I still had to collect all the gear we were taking with us and assemble it in our front room.

I do not want to break my hand patting myself on the back…..but I am getting pretty good at this. Over the years of traveling, I have composed a list of things that we must take with us. And, I have refined it to the point where it is about 99% accurate and efficient. I even have them arranged in logical categories to minimize running back and forth. Around 1:00 or so, I began to collect all the articles. Working steadily….but at a fairly leisurely pace….I had the entire list collected, packed and sitting in the front room by 4:00. As usual the front room was a mess….crowded with suitcases, camping chairs, blankets and pillows, disposable eating utensils, the electric cooler…assorted other camping equipment…. Everything on the list.

In my original plan, I was going to wait until Sunday morning to go to Topeka to pick up the rental car. That way I could drive the rental car home….and Sultan could follow me in my car. But, after thinking about it, I decided to go ahead and pick it up on Saturday morning…..and simply leave my car at my brother’s house in Topeka. This was probably a wise decision. It was just one less thing to bother with on Sunday morning.

Now…. All that was left to do was…. Wait!

Sunday morning dawned…. As usual, Fayez was in a major rush to return to Wichita to do whatever it is that he does there….. Sultan and I started the task of packing the rental car. When we look at all the stuff sitting in the front room….on the floor, on the couch, on the coffee table, on the wood stove…..it looks like there is no way it will all fit into an intermediate size car….a Kia Sportage, in our case. But, again through experience and experimentation, I have learned that by careful planning and management…..it will all fit rather comfortably.

At about 11:00, after the joy of packing the stuff into the car had been satisfactorily completed, we came to maybe the only part of the trip that was not meticulously planned…. What to do until it was time to leave. So….. We decided to do what is the answer to almost every problem…..We decided to take a nap. Around 2:30, we decided that we had waited long enough. We turned off the air-conditioners, made sure that all the electrical appliances were turned off, stood at the doorway and contemplated if were forgetting anything….locked the door…..and drove off into the West.

Our first stop was in Wakeeney, Kansas…..about four hours west on I-70. It was a fairly easy drive….and we arrived well before sunset. I sort of wish I had made Goodland our first stop. But, too late to worry about that now. I had reserved a room in a Super 8 Motel. No problems finding it. Every motel in Wakeeney is located along I-70….and the Super 8 Motel was the first one we saw. No problems…. They were expecting us. And, our room was on the ground floor. As are most motels in small towns…..I suspect this motel was owned by the guy who checked us in. He was there late in the afternoon when we checked in…..and he was there early the next morning when we checked out.

Our choices of place to eat was limited….. No Golden Corral, no Chinese buffet…. We settled on Subway. Subways are ubiquitous…. They are everywhere. Actually we were probably lucky that it was open. It was probably somewhere around 6:30 or 7:00 when we arrived. And, before we had finished eating our sandwich….the place was abandoned….and the waitresses were already sweeping the floors and putting stuff away. But, we didn’t go there for the atmosphere….only to eat. We took a quick drive around the town. In a town the size of Wakeeney all drives around town quick, I suppose. There really wasn’t much to see. But….I am from Valley Falls….and in comparison to what there is to see in Valley Falls, the trip was actually probably a “long” one.

Monday morning we were actually awake and ready to leave almost on time….at 8:00. I told Sultan he could drive until we got near the mountains. So, leaving Wakeeney behind, we set off for our first day in the Rocky Mountains.

Our first “official” act of the morning was to stop at the Colorado state sign to take pictures. Eastern Colorado really isn’t much different from Western Kansas…..except perhaps a bit more desolate. We stopped at the Colorado Welcome Center…several miles inside the state….mostly to pick up a Colorado state map….but also to stretch our legs and use the restroom. One of my Golden Rules of Traveling is: Always use the restroom when one is available! You never know how far it will be to the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

With Sultan still driving, we continued on toward the mountains. Somewhere along the way…..in the town of Lyons, Colorado, we stopped again to buy something for lunch. By chance….we chose to stop at a natural food store….which happened to sell a variety of sandwiches.

 

 

 

 

Finally we approached Estes Park…… We were getting very close to the mountains…..and this is when I got behind the steering wheel and took over the driving responsibilities…. It is not that I didn’t trust Sultan to drive…. Well….maybe just a little bit….. But, I have had much more experience driving the mountains over the years…..and I probably trusted myself just a little bit more! After stocking up on groceries for our evening meal…..we started our ascent into the Rocky Mountains.

The climb is slow and subtle at first, but suddenly…..we are climbing…..climbing high enough to see the majestic peaks and valleys….maneuvering the sharp curves….the switchbacks…..

I have driven through Rocky Mountain National Park many times……maybe 25 or 30 times…..but the breathtaking splendor never ceases to escape me. And, this year, it was double fun. I had Sultan to share it with. This was his first trip through the mountains of the U.S.A……and I suspect they were by far the tallest mountains he has ever seen. At any rate, he was fascinated by the surroundings…..the mountains, the forests, the lakes, the rivers flowing through the distant valleys.

Sultan said he had driven through mountains in Jordan…..but they do not compare to the Rocky Mountains. Trail Ridge Road….U. S. Highway 34….. winds for 77 miles through some of the highest elevations in the nation. Traveling from east to west, as Sultan and I were doing, the Trail Ridge Road starts in Estes Park, Colorado, and officially ends in Grand Lake, Colorado, on the western end. At around 11,500 feet the evergreen forests suddenly disappear and the landscape gives way to a vast tundra as the highway ascents to an elevation of more than 12,000 feet above sea level. Although the tundra is devoid of trees, there are colorful wild flowers blanketing the thin layer of unfrozen soil…a sight almost as spectacular as the evergreen forests.

By comparison, the highest mountain in Jordan is just a little more than 6,000 feet. No wonder Sultan was impressed and excited. The highway is closed for the winter months…sometimes from late September until early summer…..because of the deep snow which covers the road during these months. I know this as fact. At least two times, we have had to turn around and retrace our route because the highway was closed.

I pointed out the tall poles that line the highway for much of the 77 miles. These poles….probably 12 – 15 feet high have been placed there to mark the outlines of the highway when it covered with snow….a fact that impressed Sultan.

Unlike the trip I took with Fayez, Sultan and I stopped often to take pictures. And, picture taking opportunities exist around every curve. Unless you are completely oblivious to the surroundings….or rather callous toward them….the temptation to stop and take pictures is almost magnetic. And, the U. S. Park Service certainly recognizes this….and has provided an abundance of stopping places along the route to pull over, get out and take pictures. Not to mention their thoughtfulness in providing rest rooms stops along the way. Sultan and I took advantage of many….if not most….of such places as we journeyed along.

We were eager participants in the spectacular drama…..not merely passive observers. We had come to enjoy this experience….to be a part of it…..to assimilate it…..to form memories….. And, that is what we did. We stopped often, not only to take pictures, but sometimes just to stare at the breathtaking panorama that lay before us.

But….at some point, Sultan and I recognized that we also had a schedule to maintain. Somewhere near the summit, we agreed that we had taken enough pictures….that we had genuinely experienced Rocky Mountain National Park….and it became rather urgent that we reach our campground before the office had closed for the day.

 

 

 

 

At some point…..and I am not sure where that was…..I had even called ahead to the campground office to tell them that there was an outside possibility that we may be late….especially if their office closed at 5:00. But, we were relived to learn that the office would actually be open until 7:00. Just to be on the safe side, I asked them to deliver two bundles of wood to our campsite….just in case we didn’t make it on time.

It was also at this point that Sultan began asking if he could drive. I had some misgivings about letting Sultan drive in the mountains. He had no prior experience in this kind of driving, and I was more than a little concerned about him getting his first experience at 10,000 feet above sea level. One mis-turn….and 10,000 feet is a long ways to fall. That would probably not make the rental car company very happy. Nor would it be very beneficial to our health.

However, Sultan has a long history of being my driver. Long….if you consider 10 months to be a long time. If I recall correctly, he began driving my car on the very first night he stayed at my house. Fayez had bought him to my house at Thanksgiving. While Fayez found it necessary to stay at home and study for his final exams, Sultan and I took off for a tour of the area. That very first night….again with Fayez staying at home to study….we decided to go to Topeka. Well…..I decided we were going to Topeka, at least.

 

 

 

 

This was back in the days when Sultan spoke absolutely no English! Our simple communication was done through the translation programs on our cell phones. Sultan didn’t even understand such simple commands as “Turn right” or Turn left”….. And, some of the results were rather harrowing…. To me, at least. But, in the past ten months, I have driven hundreds of miles with Sultan…. I am still alive to talk about it.   Actually, he has proved to be a very competent and safe driver. And, I often simply rely on him to do the driving while he is around.

So…..I handed him the keys to the rental car and walked around to the passenger side of the car. Not only did he drive the remainder of that afternoon…..but he drove for the remainder of the trip….and did an admirable job, too.

By this time, it was getting late enough in the afternoon that our major goal became to make it to our campground before the office closed at 7:00 P.M. It would be a mistake to say we did not make any additional stop to take pictures…..because we did. But, basically we made steady progress toward the campground. Since we had not stopped at the entrance of the park at the east entrance near Estes Park to take pictures, it became important that we stop and take pictures of the “Rocky Mountain National Park” sign at the west entrance. We we got closer and closer to leaving the park, our full attention was not focused on the scenery…or the wildlife…. It was focused on finding the sign so we could take pictures, which both of us deemed to be very important.

I have driven this highway many times before, so I was absolutely sure there was a sign. I was only hoping that we had not driven past it….undetected. Conversation came to a halt as both of us constantly scored the landscape for a glimpse of the sign. It was a relief when we finally spotted other cars stopped for the same purpose as we had in mind. With the pictures taken….and our first day of sightseeing behind us….we were content to drive on to the campground.

 

 

 

 

We arrived at the campground about twenty minutes before the office was due to close…plenty of time to pick up the key….and also to buy a couple bundles of firewood…the firewood that I had ordered, but had not yet been delivered to our camping site.

On two or three previous occasions, I have stayed at the Elk Creek Campground. On all the prior stays, however, were in the off-season….the middle of May or in the late summer….or mid autumn. During all of these stays, we were among the only people at the campground….lonely indeed. We were always given one of three cabins at the front of the campground. In fact, I had no idea that any additional cabins even existed. To my dismay, was about to learn the truth: Behind trees and brush was a world I never knew existed….a rather expansive area for RV’s, tent campers…..and additional cabins.

The cabin we were assigned to was one of five or six cabins which were grouped rather tightly together. In contrast to many mountain campgrounds, there was little privacy…. No trees or shrubs separating the cabins….and providing at least a hint of privacy. But….here we were. Fortunately, it turned out that the occupants of the other cabins all seemed to be members of an extended family…..or at least a group of people who knew each other. And, they all seemed to congregate at a cabin across a road of sorts. We were rather spooked out by an old person who sat on the front porch of one of the cabins…..and never took his (or maybe it was a her) eyes off what we were doing. And, also by another couple….overweight and slovenly….who sat at their picnic table and smoked a constant chain of cigarettes. I told Sultan that maybe we should provide some entertainment for them….. Maybe a few songs….or some dancing…..of maybe tell some jokes….. They would have made a good….and apparently very interested…audience. But….as I told Sultan…..They probably considered us to the unwelcome intruders in their little community.

This night Sultan got his first opportunity to prepare a meal over our campfire. And, as I had anticipated….it was delicious and worthy enough to rank among the ultimate culinary masterpieces.

Sometime that first night of camping…..high in the Rocky Mountains…..sitting in front campfire talking and laughing….there seemed to be a subtle change in Sultan’s attitude toward mountains. Mountains seemed to have less of an attraction….or less magnetism….than they previously did. Looking back at the trip…..and after talking about it a few times…..I think that in his mind he envisioned Rocky Mountain National Park at the pinnacle of any experience we could possibly have in the mountains. I think he was misled by the grand name of “National Park”….. Surely nothing can surpass a “National Park”….. He was apprehensive that perhaps the drive to the top of Mt. Evans would be a let down…..a disappointment.

At any rate, as we were discussing the next day’s schedule, he showed less enthusiasm for driving through the mountains. Our premier event for the following day was a trip to the top of Mt. Evans…..the highest highway in North America. Mt. Evans is truly one of the most spectacular drives that I have ever experienced. It is breathtaking….. If I had to choose between Rocky Mountain National Park and Mt. Evans…..Rocky Mountain National Park would be left languishing in the rear view mirror

However, as we talked, Sultan began to show concern about getting to our next campground in time to spend a leisurely evening….whether we would have adequate time to prepare supper…. He would have willingly done anything I decided to do. But….I, too, wanted to arrive at our next campsite in plenty of time to unpack the car….to take a nap….to move through the evening at a comfortable pace…. So, rather reluctantly, we made the decision to forgo the drive to the top of Mt. Evans and proceed directly to our next destination….Buena Vista, Colorado.

Sultan’s premonition of never seeming to have sufficient time in the evening proved to be true during the entire trip. I don’t know what it was. When Fayez and I travel together, supper is prepared….dishes are done (thrown into a trash bag)…..meal equipment store back in the car…..and we are relaxing in front of the campfire by 8:00 or 8:30. Man…..to describe the evenings that Sultan and I spent in this manner would simply not be telling the truth! We were in the midst of preparing our meals when all the other campers had apparently given up and gone to bed. We were only starting to eat our supper as they lay in their beds snoring. A lot of the problem….if we can indeed call it a problem….was the fact that Fayez and I have developed a rhythm….a routine….for preparing our evening meal. This is something that will develop naturally as Sultan and I travel more together in the future.

Tuesday morning was sunny and crisp as we departed the campground and drove south along the shores of Grand Lake toward Granby. Even though we had taken our rice maker….and our coffee maker….with us, we never once used either of them. Again, in a sharp contrast to the habits of Fayez and me. Maybe we simply found it easier and more convenient to stop and buy coffee….and drink it as we drove along. In Granby, we stopped at the Java Lava Coffee Shop to order a cup of coffee. The coffee shop had outdoor tables, so having already cut roughly three hours from our schedule by canceling our trip to the top of Mt. Evans, we ordered our coffee and a pastry and sat outside in the morning sunshine to enjoy a second breakfast.

Even though Granby is basically a tourist town, situated at the southern tip of one of the favorite fishing vacation spots in the USA…..Sultan and I seemed to be the only tourists to buy coffee. Everybody else seemed to know each other….and be in a hurry to go somewhere. Probably to work. We sat, drank our coffee, ate our pastry….watched the people and they came and went. And, soon we were back in the car again…..with Sultan still the driver and me still at the ever watchful co-pilot….and heading south toward I-70.

We drove through some more beautiful, rugged mountain terrain…..over Bethold Pass….through Fraser, once called the coldest city in the USA….past the Winter Park ski area…..and finally arrived at the junction of I-70. And….. How much fun could we have without a slight mix up in our directions? We….actually, I will blame it on Sultan, just for convenience’s sake….took the wrong exit onto I-70, and we drove a couple miles before we (I will take the credit here.) realized that we were heading east….back toward Kansas….and not toward the west, where we wanted to go.

That problem was corrected easily enough, and soon we were heading toward the west in search of our next exit. I had planned that we take the exit to the south immediately before we reached the Eisenhower Tunnel….but (and this was probably my fault) we missed it. But, no real damage was done. I had sort of wanted to avoid the Eisenhower Tunnel….the highest point on the entire route of I-70….because the tunnel is about 1.7 miles long…..and even though it is 4 lanes for the entire length, I was apprehensive about letting Sultan drive it.

 

 

 

 

The Eisenhower Tunnel is well lighted and the lanes are relatively wide….and there is a speed limit….so I need not have worried. Sultan handled it like a pro. What I am trying to say is…. Here I am. We made it through with no ill-effects…..no dents in the car…. Having made it safely through the tunnel, we proceeded on to Dillon, at which point we got onto Colorado 9. We drove through the ski resort town of Breckenridge without stopping and proceeded to our next destination of Buena Vista, Colorado.

The drive down Highway 9, later to become US 285 and US 24, toward Buena Vista and Salida is beautiful…..but it does not have the excitement or drama of Trail Ridge Road….or even the highway from Granby to I-70. The highway is flatter…straighter…easier to drive. There are fewer “photo ops”….at least, for the kind of pictures that I wanted to take. Sultan really didn’t care one way or the other. He just drove until I said, “Stop.” And, even then: Sometimes he did….and sometimes he didn’t.

The only major stop we made along the way was in Leadville…..located slightly off the highway. Our first mission was to buy food for supper. So…. We stopped at the only supermarket I know in Leadville…..and it may be the only supermarket in town, for all I know.

And, then we drove downtown. Leadville is an old gold and silver mining town, settled in the late 1800’s. It is the home of the Unsinkable Molly Brown who married an extremely wealthy miner….and a lucky one, too….and then went on to become a prominent socialite and social activist. Her fame came when she was one of the survivors of the ill-fated Titanic…..and after her death in the 1930’s a very popular Broadway play was written about her life….and subsequently was made into a movie.

The town is the highest incorporated town in the U. S. A……with an altitude of about 10,200 feet above sea level. After we parked the car, got out and started walking….we didn’t need any reminder of this fact. The air is indeed “thin”….it is more difficult to breathe. It is a place where it is wise to simply take your time and not get in a hurry. While we were there, the thought crossed my mind that I wonder what it is like for the members of the high school track team….especially those kids who participate in the various running events…. I suppose they become acclimated to lack of oxygen. And, I can imagine they must have a definite advantage over kids from other schools at lower elevations who come there to participate in track meets.

Sultan and I didn’t bother check out the theory. We walked through most of the downtown area…..which doesn’t really cover a lot of territory. The current population of Leadville is around 2600 permanent residents….a remarkable decline from its population in earlier days when it was a leading mining center….and cultural center. By design, the architecture style is in keeping with its history. It is a quaint, picturesque little town, with an ample supply of bars, restaurants, coffee shops, souvenirs stores….everything one would expect of a little tourist town.

We walked up one side of the street, peering into windows out of curiosity….and then down the other side….doing basically the same thing. In quaint little town like this, I always feel like buying sometjomg….or sitting in one of the little bars…. Something, just so I can experience being there. Of course, Sultan was too young for the bars….and it was only mid-afternoon. But, on the other hand, as the lyrics of the song say, “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere.” We didn’t stop in a bar.

Sultan was getting hungry, so we began looking for a suitable place to eat. After considering a few possibilities….they were either closed or too expensive….we settled on a place called “Cookies with Altitude”…..whatever that means. The “cafe” or coffee shop….or whatever it was called…..is merely a hole-in the wall little place. There was seating for maybe 10 or 12 people….if they sat close together.

But….it was a popular place…. Customers….take-out customers….came and went at a steady pace. However, Sultan and I found a vacant table. After some consideration, I ordered a Reuben sandwich. I am not sure what Sultan ordered….. Although he still tells me how delicious it was! My Reuben was OK…. But, in general, to me….food is food. Sultan fell in love with the place….and its food….calling it one of the best places he has ever eaten. So….if we ever happen to make a return visit to Leadville, which I am sure we will do one of these days…..”Cookies with Altitude” will at the top of our “must go” list.

After a semi-leisurely lunch at the “Cookies with Altitude” place, we took a couple more pictures and agreed to move on. I had wanted to take a picture of a couple historic displays. But….both times Sultan drove right past them….I am never sure if he does not hear me….does not understand me….or is simply ignoring me…. Fayez had told me the first day I met Sultan to be careful. Sultan is very likely to smile and shake his head “YES” even though he has no idea what I am saying to him. Well…we passed that stage a long time ago, I think. Oh well. No big deal. I have already taken pictures of them several times before.

We drove on down to our campground in Buena Vista….found our cabin….and set up camp for the night. Although the drive from I-70 to Buena Vista is a pleasant….even beautiful….drive, it is not as dramatic as driving high in the mountains. We may have stopped to take a couple pictures…..but mostly, we were eager to reach the KOA campground.

The following day, we drove on to the west….and south…..at least that was our intention. Our campground was located in Richland, Utah. I knew from the minute we typed our destination into the GPS that it did not look right! And….I made a mistake that I have always suspected….always declared….have always accused…. We decided to follow the route the GPS had mapped out for us. I mean after all…. Isn’t the GPS the all-knowing, accurate, final authority on driving directions? Well…. Let me tell you very emphatically! No, it is not! I knew from the very beginning that we were being led far astray! And, I should have simply ignored the GPS….and did the common sense thing: Follow the map. But, I didn’t. And…. It cost us. It cost us probably around 200 miles….and perhaps 4 hours! Once we had definitely realized that the GPS was wrong….it was far too late to do anything except to follow the route it dictated. Even Sultan….a firm believer and worshiper of the GPS….finally realized that we were being unnecessarily led far off the quickest and most common sense route.

 

 

 

 

 

Even after we reached our destination….after dark….the GPS was not able to locate our campground….. Another hour wasted. We had planned…and expected…to reach the campground around 5:00….plenty of time to relax, take a nap, set up the laptop….prepare and eat supper. It was after 9:00 when we finally got there. We were both tired and worn out. And….I? I was not very happy….and my faith in putting my trust in a GPS had sunk to rock bottom. It was too late to even consider starting a fire….getting supper…. Almost all the other campers are already gone to bed. We stopped at a Chinese buffet….ordered a generous supply of food…. That became our supper that discouraging night.

 

 

 

 

 

Our destination for Saturday was Capitol Reef National Park, located in the southeast part of Utah…..maybe 50 miles from our campground. Of course, by this time, the landscape had undergone a remarkable transformation. The terrain slowly morphed from mountains and lush forests to dry, semi-arid desert. I say “semi-arid” because Sultan informed me that this really was not a desert….at least, not the kind he is accustomed to in Saudi Arabia. I don’t know…. It looked pretty much like a desert to me. But, I suppose it is all a matter of perspective.

Capitol Reef National Park is an area of unusual and imposing rock formations. Most of the landscape ranges from desert tan to a reddish color….with various shapes of barren mountains…..small mountains….to huge, randomly place boulders. Huge jagged rock formations thrust upward from the earth into the sky, adding to the drama and beauty of the area.

From the many observation points, we were able to look out over vast canyons, stretching for miles between the mountains and rock formations. It is difficult to imagine that land like this could sustain life. But, there is ample evidence that tribes of Indians once occupied this area. But, today, the area is largely devoid of people. The area receives somewhere around an average of 7 inches of rain a year. Scattered throughout the panorama are scrubby vegetation….mostly in the form of stunted bushes and trees. One can only imagine that the roots of these plants must dig far down into the rock for any sustaining moisture.

Sultan and I stopped often to take pictures. Just like Colorado….but for entirely different reasons….the scenery is alluring and mesmerizing. It can be argued….at at least Sultan can argue….that in Colorado, a mountain is a mountain. Especially after driving through them for a day. They are beautiful; they are magnificent….but, in the end, most of them look pretty much alike. The rock formations and scenery in Capitol Reef National Park is constantly changing…. Yeah, maybe they are all just rock formations. But….they are all different. If each scene was a pictures….each of them would have been painted by a different artist.

Irrigate the desert….and it will bloom. That is true at the park headquarters. This brief interlude was like time spent in the Garden of Eden. Suddenly….with no transition….we were treated to the sight of a thriving orchard….in the middle of the desert. There are also lush green lawns for the picnic area and the campground. For Sultan, I am sure it brought back some nostalgic memories…..an oasis in the middle of the desert. Except this one had no camels.

We retraced our route and headed out of the park….destined for out next campground in Cedar City, Utah. We stopped along the way to eat lunch….and then continued more or less uninterrupted to the campground. The KOA in Cedar City is located in a more or less urban area….not that Cedar City is by any means a large city. It has a population of approximately 30,000 people. And, like almost all the small towns we saw in Utah, the home and lawns were remarkable well kept and clean. Even the poorest areas (that we saw) were kept neat and the lawns were mowed and the yards were trash-free. I don’t know for sure….but I suspect this in some way reflects the philosophy and work ethic of the Mormon people who make up the majority of the population.

The next day was a travel day. We left the desert rock formations and made our way back eventually back toward the mountains and forests of Colorado…..where we would spend the next two night in Gunnison. The day was unremarkable…. The trip consisted mainly of getting on I-70, heading east until we reached Grand Junction, then traveling south-southeast on US 50 until we reached Gunnison. Most of the day was spent answering questions from the “Book of Questions” we had taken along with us. The most interesting discovery of the day was that we were now traveling the highway we SHOULD have taken when we first entered Utah…. But…. That was in the past….and we tried to forget

Our two nights at the Gunnison KOA was unremarkable. I could have been the worst KOA we stayed at during this trip. The cabins were sandwiched close together….with no vegetation or barrier delineating the space between them. At first, it appeared that our cabin had no fire ring. But, Sultan, discovered what was probably our fire ring behind our cabin. That in itself is not such a bad thing. But, there was an RV parked very close to our cabin. It was occupied by a woman and her dog. Apparently she was at least a semi-permanent resident of the campground. She had her own table…chair….cooking equipment…. And, it was all uncomfortably close to what Sultan claimed was our fire ring.

Personally, I did not feel comfortable using it…. It was almost like we were intruding on her space. But, it became apparent that she….and her dog….were only there in the day time….and they were gone at night. Apparently, she had a night job somewhere nearby. Sultan had no such misgivings….and he proceeded to prepare the food….and then bring it to me as I sat in my camping chair in front of the cabin. The second night, when it was apparent she was not at home…..I relented and took my chair around back, too. I would have been very ill at ease if the woman had been sitting six feet from us, however.

We spent the entire day of Saturday in Gunnison doing….well, not much of anything. In fact, right now, I would be hard pressed to say what we did in the morning. That is how exciting it must have been. I had planned a circular trip through some high mountains that eventually led to Telluride…another historic former mining town….now a ski retreat for the rich and famous….and then back to Gunnison. But, I had already figured out that Sultan was getting tired of mountains…and was not as enthusiastic about the trip as I was.

In the afternoon, not wanting to waste the entire day, we got into the car and drove back to the west of Gunnison to look at the Blue Mesa Reservoir. It wasn’t much….but at least, we were doing something. The reservoir stretches for several miles along US 50. I had driven past in a few times in prior years, but it never seemed worthy of a prolonged inspection. I did, however, find an old picture of the bridge, which I took on a trip in 1986. The bridge hasn’t changed much…..but I still can’t determine from which side of the reservoir the picture was taken.

On this afternoon, though, we gave the reservoir and the surrounding area a closer look…and even took a few excursions off the highway to check out the scenery. To Sultan, it was merely one of my picture-taking urges. But, when I travel….I want to see as much as I can….and take pictures so I can remember it later on. Like now, for example!

We returned to our cabin….and after making sure the lady and her dog were nowhere around…..we moved our camping chairs to the back of the cabin and prepared supper.

Our trip was coming to an end. Sunday would be our final full day in Colorado…..and we would spend it in Cripple Creek. That would be a fateful day….more accurately, a fateful night….for me. If I had know then what I know now….the “Cripple Creek Incident” would have never taken place.

But, Sunday morning we innocently packed our camping gear back into the car, bid farewell to Gunnison…..and enthusiastically set out for our final day in the mountains. We arrived at our campground near Cripple Creek fairly early in the afternoon. The campground was located high in the Rocky Mountains….close to 10,000 feet above sea level….and was situated on a rather barren, wind-swept plain. There really wasn’t much there….in the way of vegetation, that is. No trees, no shrubs, no bushes…. We were the only people occupying cabins that night.

It was still early in the afternoon when we finished unpacking our stuff. We climbed back into the car and drive toward the little town of Cripple Creek….only a few miles away. Among our goals was to find a place to eat lunch. We had taken sliced meat, sliced cheese, peanut butter and jelly with us. On all our trips Fayez and I took together, that was the staple of our lunch… We faithfully stopped in mid-day and prepared our sandwiches before journeying onward. It became a way of life….or traveling….for us. But, for Sultan and me, these products remained in our cooler….untouched….for the duration of the trip. It was just another of the differences between traveling with Fayez…and traveling with Sultan.

As we approached downtown Cripple Creek, we discovered that there was a motorcycle rally taking place….and the entire downtown area had been blocked off to accommodate the motorcyclists…and their biker chicks, I suppose. We briefly considered “crashing the party”…..and walking a block or two downtown. We even found a parking lot and parked the car. But, with second thoughts….and with the air already difficult to breathe…we changed our minds….got back into the Kia….and went in search of a grocery store to buy food for our evening meal.

I learned after I returned home, that this was just not like any normal motorcycle rally….where men and women of all walks of life and all professions come together to share their love of motorcycles…..and probably an equal love of smoking a little marijuana….which, incidentally….is legal in Colorado. The rally that had closed off downtown Cripple Creek….and caused us more than a little inconvenience….was a convention of Hell’s Angels! For those of you who have not heard…..Hell’s Angels is not an “organization” or a “club”…..it is a motorcycle gang! And, it often lives up to its reputation of being a violent gang. So….maybe it was best that we didn’t venture into their midst. Neither Sultan nor I radiate the appearance of the prototype of a member of a motorcycle gang…. I don’t think we would fit into any sort of gang, now that I think of it.

The problem of where to eat lunch still remained, however. We set off again through the mountains and drove perhaps 30 miles to Green Mountain in search of a restaurant. After pacifying ourselves with lunch, we turned back to the campground. It was a cool night…..but with no wind, the air was crisp and clean….and the smoke from the fire curled upward…..then seemed to follow us no matter where we placed our chairs.

This, of course, was the final meal that Sultan would prepare for us during this trip….and he spared no time or effort. As I had become accustomed, his final feast won accolades….at least, with my taste buds.

It would also be the final time Sultan and I could sit in front of the fire and relax and talk…. until he returns from Saudi Arabia next year to spend the summer. It was a cool, still night…. Nobody else seemed to be awake…. Nobody had rented the cabins near us…. Shortly after our arrival, a man riding a motorcycle drove past….stopped at one of the tent sites nearby….and proceeded to set up his tent….a rather elaborate tent, at that. A few minutes later, he walked past carrying two bundle of wood….. Ahh…he is going to sit in front of his fire….maybe fix his supper there. But….the man with the motorcycle and the tent was nowhere to be seen…. The two bundles of firewood sat unused on the ground….while our fire burned brightly in the dark. But…we had a long day of driving in front of us…. We needed some sleep.

What transpired next was perhaps one of the most miserable nights of my entire life. I have been to Colorado many times….too many times to even try to count. I have camped in Colorado….again, too many times to count. Never before did I have any problems breathing…. Well, of course, the air is “thinner” and running around aimlessly is never a good idea. Yeah….I know. I am getting older now. But so is everybody.

During the daylight hours when I was standing up or moving around, the problem was minimal. But….I think it was probably in Gunnison….suddenly I began to have problems breathing….at night….while I was trying to sleep. The first night, it was bad…but no so bad that I didn’t get some sleep…..maybe three hours, at the most. The second night in Gunnison was much worse. I found myself gasping for breath….literally gasping for breath….as I tried to sleep. No matter which side I lay on….or whether I lay flat on my back…. I simply could not breathe for any extended period of time. There was no point my waking Sultan…. There was nothing he could do about it…. So, I got up….pulled on some clothes….groped around for my jacked….picked up the car keys….and climbed into the front passenger seat of the car.

Actually, this wasn’t much of an improvement. I would fall asleep briefly…..but awaken suddenly….unable to breathe….gasping for breath.

But…..the night in Cripple Creek: Sultan took the mattress off the unused bunk….and put it on my bed….making sure the front of the mattress was raised above the level of the headboard….. The theory was that perhaps I could sleep in an “almost sitting up” position…almost like sleeping in my recliner….so more air could get into my lungs.

Certainly Sultan’s sentiment was thoughtful….even the reasoning seemed solid…. But, the reality simply was not there. I lay down….hopeful that would be able to sleep… But, sleep did not come….. Now, we were at an even higher elevation…. There was less oxygen to breathe….. Sleep did not come….. For the duration of the night, I found myself gasping for air…. It was a long, lonely night…..a miserable night….a rather frightening night….. I got up three or four times, walked outside….but the night was cold…too cold to sit in a camping chair…. I had considered sitting in the front seat of the car again…. But….Why would that work this time, if it didn’t work last time? When there was even less oxygen to breathe?

So….the night dragged slowly by. I would close my eye momentarily….perhaps drift into a few seconds of sleep…..and then awaken suddenly, unable to breathe.

It was a real joy when 6:30 arrived…. A reasonable time to get up….get dressed….and turn on the lights….and awaken Sultan…. Sultan, of course, had been completely unaware of what had happened during the night. There was no point awakening him….making the night miserable to both of us. Besides, he had a day of driving ahead of him. He couldn’t afford to be worn out and sleepy.

It was a memorable way to spend our final night of camping….but not memorable in a way I had hoped for….. Overall, it did not diminish the fun and the good time we had. At the most…. It was a lesson learned. I will never camp at such high altitudes again.

Another lesson I learned: Take my breathing device with me when I travel. I don’t know if it would have helped in this situation or not…. The breathing device forces air into my lungs…..but it is the same air that it gets from the atmosphere. So….maybe that would not have been of any value. But…at least, there would be been a constant flow of air into my lungs…. Oh well… Like Kris Kristofferson said, “It’s over….and nobody wins.”

The next morning…..or at least, it was the next morning for Sultan….we wasted no time packing our belongings….and headed down the mountain…..and more oxygen.

I had sort of planned to visit the Air Force Academy in Colorado Spring before we started back home. But, then I stopped to consider the implications and ramifications of such a visit….somehow it just didn’t seem like a very good idea any longer. First of all…Just imagine: A rental car pulling up to the front gate….packed completely full of “stuff”, a young Arab man, with only a learner’s permit, driving the car.

Well….No….I am not that naive.. I would have been driving the car! But, on a day after a completely sleepless night, I just was not looking forward to any possible complications….or delays…..or hassles…. I could pictures us….standing beside the car with our hands on the roof…..with all the junk stacked along side….while guards went through each and every item. (Not finding anything, of course.) So, I decided to simply continue eastward on our journey back home.

We drove north east on US 24 toward Limon, Colorado, where we picked up good old I-70…..and headed back toward Kansas. We were back on the wide dusty plains again….with good old oxygen-laden air….wide-open, tree-less landscape…. We knew we were almost back home again.

Our final night was spent in Goodland, Kansas, where we had reservations in a Super 8 Motel. We arrive in the middle of the afternoon, with plenty of time to spare before darkness fell upon us. The sight of a bed was too tempting to resist…. Forty-eight hours with no sleep is a long time….. I had no problem falling asleep….blessed with an abundant supply of oxygen. When I woke up, Sultan was still in a state of half-sleep…but soon both of us were awake and somewhat alert…..trying to decide what to do and where to go next.

Shortly after we arrived at the motel, the skies began to darken as thick, threatening clouds rolled in. Tornado warning and severe thunderstorm warnings began to appear on my cell phone. Luckily….for us, at least, the tornado warnings were for points east. This is fortunate, because storms, particularly, tornadoes, rarely move from east to west. I was fairly confident that the storms….the tornadoes, at any rate….posed no problem for us. But….that didn’t prevent a torrential rain from pelting us.

As we stood looking at the stood in front of our motel room looking upward at the clouds, a woman and her son were also nervously gazing toward the sky, too. She indicated that she was not from Kansas….but they had heard that Kansas was the “tornado state”….and she was visibly worried about her immediate safety. I hope we were somewhat successful in reassuring her that she had nothing to be concerned about. That any tornado threat was already to the east of us…..and that is where it would stay. That is how watching the “Wizard of Oz” too many times will affect you, I suppose. And… we felt….at least, I felt….like a wise old Kansan…wise to the ways of the weather.

We rolled into home about 4:00 on Tuesday afternoon….a sort of bittersweet moment. Happy to be off the road…..but sad that Sultan’s visit was quickly approaching an end. We drove directly to my neighbor’s house, picked up the mail…..and then home and started unpacking the car. Unpacking the car went very quickly….much faster than all the work it took to assemble everything. Not having anything in the house to eat, we drove to Meriden and ate supper at Subway.

Wednesday, we picked up my old Suzuki, returned the rental car…..and proceeded directly to Hutchinson, where we would meet up with Fayez in the parking lot of our usual motel.

Sultan packed his luggage into the trunk of Fayez’s car…..and they drove off into the proverbial sunset. But….the sun will rise again next summer when Sultan comes to spend his three months summer vacation…..

When I think of Oklahoma City, I am reminded of the phrase, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

No…..nothing mysterious or clandestine. But, the only place I know….and can drive directly to…..in Oklahoma City is the McDonalds on North Highway I-35. That has always been my drop-off and pick-up destination for Sultan.

It is four and a half hours from my house…..but, it a straight shot. Once I get on the Kansas Turnpike in Topeka, it is a straight line. I can’t miss it…..unless I get lost in one of the service areas!

My latest…..and obviously my final….visit was a long four day weekend in August. I say “final” visit, because Sultan must return to Saudi Arabia at the end of his current language course.

As always, it was a joyous meeting. Almost any encounter with Sultan is happy and joyous. That is simply the kind of person he is…..bright, happy, smiling, positive, upbeat…..

His current landlord agreed to bring him to the McDonalds so I would not have to drive into Oklahoma City….something that I really do not feel would be safe for me to do. On this trip, I experienced a very fortunate…and lucky….coincidence. The hotel where I had booked a room was adjacent to McDonalds…..right across the street. Talk about good fortune! I immediately texted Sultan and told him to meet me in the parking lot of the Days Inn Motel. So….I suppose we can say that I actually didn’t meet him at McDonalds this time…..but at the Days Inn Motel…..another place I can add to my short list of places I can drive directly to in Oklahoma City.

After getting settled in our motel room….and enjoying some welcome relief from the sun…..we set off to explore Oklahoma City…..with Sultan driving, of course. I have driven through Oklahoma City a few times on my way to somewhere else. The only other time I can recall being in Oklahoma City was at a cross-country meet many, many years ago. Please don’t ask me where it was….or where we stayed…..or who was with me at the time….or even how they scored in the cross-country meet. For some reason, that information is completely blocked from my memory. The one…and only….thing I remember was touring the Cowboy Hall of Fame. For some reason, that sounded like a fun thing to do. But….where is the Cowboy Hall of Fame? What did we see there? I do not have a clue. So….as maybe you see, my knowledge of Oklahoma City was rather limited. Non-existent, in fact.

So….for that Friday afternoon, I left the sightseeing decisions to Sultan. After some thought, he decided to drive to Lake Hefner. Lake Hefner was a surprise for me. I had no idea such a large lake lay within the city limits of Oklahoma City. The lake covers more than 2500 acres and has about 18 miles of shore line. Actually, it looks much like a miniature Great Lake. On this sunny Friday afternoon, is was a busy place. People were walking, jogging, exercising their dogs, boating, picnicking, watching their kids play in the many playground areas, sitting on park benches….or just milling around in general….like us. Of course, there were the usual redneck teenagers driving over the many trails….showing off in their “hot” cars…..or at least, what they thought were hot cars.

Sultan and I drove around the lake in our definitely NOT hot car. We stopped occasionally to walk to the water’s edge and to take some pictures. But mostly we just drove around and looked. Our longest stop was at an impressive monument with a USA flag in its center. It was located on the very edge of the water, and it looked like a good photo opportunity. But, as is so many times the case, the space had already been appropriated by some teenagers or young adults…..and they appeared in no hurry to vacate their position….as they sat directly in the middle of the monument….talking loudly and laughing and trying to impress each other.

As we walked slowly back to our car, we watched the fishermen along the lake casting their lines into the water….and slowly reeling them back. Sultan found this to be much more fascinating than I did….. So we sat on a bench to rest and to watch the fishermen. As we sat watching a father and his son….both Mexican….the father looked at us….and then said something to his son. The kid approached Sultan and asked him if he would like to fish.

Sultan had told me several times that he would like to go fishing. I was never very encouraging about his desires. First of all, he would have to buy a fishing license. Then he would have to buy the fishing equipment. And, I suppose it would help if he actually knew how to use the equipment…..how to cast the line, what bait to use….. And, finally: I think fishing is boring….actually sort of a waste of time. I used to go fishing a lot right after I moved to my house. I fished in ponds; I fished on the banks of the Delaware River; I fished from the small boat that I owned at the time; I set lines in the river and checked them regularly. I have never caught a fish in my entire life. Not even one! So…..maybe you can understand why I am not an enthusiastic fisherman…..why I think it boring and a waste of time. If I want fish…. There is always WalMart! That is a sure thing.

At first, Sultan shook his head and said, “No, thank you.” But, then he looked at me….and I shook my head Yes….and said, “Yeah, go ahead and try it.” Sultan told the kid that he had never gone fishing before, but the little kid told him he would show him how. Casting a line into the water from a spin reel is an art….and it requires some skill timing and practice. The kid explained to Sultan how to hold the rod…and how to hold the line until the last second….before releasing it. This was something that was completely foreign to Sultan. He had ever held a rod and reel before…..and the skill seemed to elude him. His timing was off….the line never did sail gracefully out into the lake.

However, the kid was very patient. He never seemed to tire of explaining it “one more time”……along with a skilled demonstration. The boy was probably only around 10 or 11 year old….maybe even younger. But, he handled the rod and reel like a pro….and gracefully cast the line into the lake with no effort. But….Sultan is from the desert. He did not grow up fishing. This was a skill that he was not born with. He just did not seem to be able to coordinate his hand, the reel and the line.

I sat on the bench and watched….rather helplessly. Once upon a time….and not so long ago, considering everything…..I used to be able to also cast a line into the river with skill and ease. But….it has been too long ago. I would have been no help if I had intervened and tried to help. So….I sat and watched. Finally, I decided that I should be taking some pictures of this historic event….even though it was not very successful. After several attempts, it became apparent….at least I thought it was apparent….and probably Sultan did also…..that he was not going to become an expert fisherman that afternoon. For a while, Sultan would also have to buy his fish from WalMart.

Before we left, we thanked the young boy….and we thanked his dad….for being generous and thoughtful. And, when I think back upon the incident, it was a very kind thing for them to do. They certainly had no obligation of any sort of try to include Sultan in their activities. Maybe they could tell by looking at us that we were definitely not fishermen….and maybe saw some potential….in Sultan, at least. It was a great adventure for Sultan….and I hope that we adequately conveyed our appreciation of both the kid and his dad.

We left Lake Hefner to the late afternoon pleasure seekers…..to enjoy their Friday afternoon leisure….to begin relaxing after a long week at work. We turned our attention to looking at both of the schools that Sultan had attended during his stay in Oklahoma City. When Sultan first arrived in the USA, he attended a language school associated with Southern Nazarene University, a university controlled by the Church of the Nazarene….the church that I grew up attending during the early years of my life. I am not really clear on why he chose that school. As a matter of fact, he did not choose it. His brother, Fayez, chose it. And, I am not really clear on how he chose it. As is the case with so many foreign students….especially those from Asia and the Middle East….I can imagine it was one of those, “Somebody told me….” situations. I think it was a good language school. Certainly the students received a lot of personal attention because of the very low enrollment. In some cases, I think it was almost one-to-one instruction.

The low enrollment proved to be the reason for its demise. It was forced to close its doors due to the lack of students. Sultan then enrolled in a private language school…ELS…which is located in a vacant building on the campus of Oklahoma City University. I don’t know….. Maybe this is a more challenging school. His English language speaking ability has improved dramatically since he has been enrolled there…..and it is steadily getting better.

After looking at Sultan’s language schools, we did what would become our tradition for that evening….and the next two evening that I was in Oklahoma City. We went to Starbucks, bought some iced coffee and sat on the outside patio and talked. If I had my choice…..I would probably go to any coffee shop…except for Starbucks. Starbucks sells its name…..and for a premium price. I have never liked paying for a name….for its advertising….for its hype….for the illusion the advertising creates. I am not usually drawn into these phoney myths of superior quality…. For the most part, I am convinced that there are probably a thousand coffee houses….probably including McDonald’s…. that sell a higher quality of coffee….for a much lower price….than Starbucks. But….Sultan has been suckered into believing this fantasy….and he was driving. So….we spent an hour or so sitting in an uncomfortable chair on the patio at Starbucks…..waiting until it was time to eat our evening meal.

Sultan took me to his favorite Arab restaurant, called ZamZam, to eat. ZamZam is an all-you-can-eat buffet with a fairly large assortment of of tasty Arab food. And, the customers that night were what I expected: mostly Arab diners, but with a token number of Westerns….like me. One half of the building is devoted to the restaurant; the other half is occupied by a Hookah parlor, so to speak. Most of its customers appeared to be Arabs….although we really didn’t go check it out.

We sat at our table conversing with each other….and watching the TV sets that were scattered around the room. All of them were tuned to CNN. That was the night that the attempted coup took place in Turkey. That was the main story….the only story, in fact. And, as is true with most exclusively news channels, they had taken this story and ran with it. Insofar as the viewer could tell, this was the only event that was happening in the world that night. Their coverage was like beating a dead horse! Repeating the same facts…or rumors….over and over…..and over. We could have watched the first five minutes and learned the entire story. But, that is not the way news channels cover a story…. They give the same information again and again…..trying to make it sound dramatic…exclusive…. If CNN was treating a story in this manner….I can only imagine what Fox News was doing. Imagine, maybe….but I certainly am glad we did not have to find out first hand. Chances are they were blaming the entire incident on President Obama and Hillary Clinton. When we eventually got back to our motel room, I expected to find the story plastered all over my e-mail….Facebook…Bing News…. I found one matter-of-fact story….stating the basic facts. And, that was all I found.

After we left ZamZam, we looked for a bar where we could go and sit and talk. And, hopefully, a bar that was safe and relatively quiet. Sultan knew of the perfect place. I wish I had noted the name….but I didn’t. It was located on the edge of Lake Hefner. It had a generous outside seating area, which was filled almost to capacity. We managed to find a vacant table….and immediately claimed it for ourselves.

It was a pleasant summer night. We sat and talked and watched the lights of the boats in the lake….and the people walking along the sidewalk in front of the lake. It was an ideal place to sit and relax. If I lived in Oklahoma City, this would no doubt be high on my list of nighttime hangouts when I have guests. But….I often got the impression that Oklahoma is even more conservative that Kansas. (Of course, that is impossible….) Bars in Kansas usually stay open until the legal closing time of 2:00 A.M. In Oklahoma City, at least, the city seems to shut down at Midnight. The streets are rolled up….and the people disappear. When the waitress asked if we had any final order….somewhere around 11:45, we knew that the time had come to leave and drive back to our motel.

We woke up on Saturday morning, eager to explore part of Oklahoma City. At least, I was eager. Prior to going to Oklahoma City, I had searched the Internet for some interesting place to visit and some interesting things to do. I was reasonably sure that Sultan was probably not very familiar with the various attractions in city. And, with only two full days to spend there, I felt it was better to be prepared so we could use our limited time more efficiently. Nothing wastes time as fast as sitting around and saying, “Well, what shall we do?” Or driving aimless around town looking for something.

Actually, Oklahoma City does not have a lot of options. My first inclination would be to choose the state historical museum. But, I had read the description and found out that it was devoted primarily to the history of Indians in Oklahoma. And, the truth is: I am simply not very interested in Indians….and I doubted is Sultan had much of a desire to go there, either.

So…..I decided to make Saturday primarily an “art day”. But, before we could start the sightseeing, Sultan had a check which he wanted to deposit in his bank….The Bank of America. His GPS led us into the heart of downtown Oklahoma City…..to the main bank. That was OK with me. It gave us an opportunity to see that “downtown” Oklahoma City looked like. Sultan had never been downtown before….and, it goes without saying that I certainly had never been there before.

The Bank of America building had its headquarters in the tallest building in the city… A gleaming skyscraper of steel and glass. No doubt paid for by government bailout money from their ignominious collapse in 2008 ….and the other illegal operations they have been found to participate in. This being Saturday morning, of course, the bank was closed. The only bright spot in this little adventure was being able to see downtown Oklahoma City. And, like the downtown area of most large cities in the USA, it was dead. “Not a creature was stirring….not even a mouse.” I think it is sort of eerie to be among towering buildings….but see no people. But, like most cities, the downtown area of Oklahoma City has been given over mainly to office complexes…..and not retail stores.

OK….. The bank was not open. So we went in search of our first sightseeing venue: The Oklahoma Contemporary Art Association. They are located in a building which is part of the Oklahoma State Fair. Most of the gates to the fair grounds were closed, but we located an entrance and went in search of the building. The buildings on the fair grounds are poorly marked, to say the least. In fact, we were about to give up the search. As we were driving out of the compound, we only by lucky coincidence saw a sign that identified the building. There is no sign or identification of any sort on the building itself. Only a small, rather obscure sign on the outside.

We entered the building and briefly inspected some paintings hanging in the lobby. A woman was sitting at a desk at what appeared to be the main entrance to the gallery. We approached her and asked her how much a ticket cost. She was a very kind…and eager….and helpful woman. “Oh, we would never think of charging to look at art,” she said. Wow! Tell that to the people at MOMA in New York City!

We thanked her….and proceeded on to the gallery. We were the only people there. And, actually, there simply wasn’t much to look at. We walked around the room looking at the displays of modern art….. And, to be sure….there were several on display in the large room. When we finished looking in the first gallery, we glanced around to see where to go next. We saw an open room at the rear of gallery, but when we glanced in there, it turned out to be a sculpture studio. A few people where in there working on various pieces of pottery and other items. It obviously was not a part of public space….and clearly not part of the gallery’s display collection.

We retreated back to the front of the building, and asked the lady at the desk if there were any other galleries we could look at. She directed us to a room next door. She warned us that the room would produce an echo effect when we talked, because it was a converted telescope observatory. Sure enough….she was right. There was a large dome in the middle of the curved ceiling. Again, there were a few smaller pictures on display. I am not sure if they were originals….or if they were copies. Probably originals. We thanked the lady in charge…. And, in return, she thanked us profusely….before leaving the building.

Perhaps the most striking display was the front windows of the gallery. They were completely covered with colorful, contemporary murals…..giving the window an illusion of being made of stained glass. After leaving the building, we sort of surmised that although there was a small collection of contemporary art….enough for Google to list it in the “Things to Do in Oklahoma City”….it was primarily a school or a workshop area for hands-on teaching and artistic development. But….it was a pleasant diversion before moving on to other things.

The next “other thing” was to find a Bank of America so Sultan could deposit his check. We found a Bank of American branch that was open on Saturday. It proved to be a very popular place, contrary to most banks on a Saturday morning. Sultan said that many international residents use that bank…..because it is the only American bank they have heard of…..and maybe because the “of America” part leads them to believe it operated by the U. S. A. government. Nevertheless, a large portion of those waiting in line were obviously foreigners. The long line moved quickly, though. Bank employees circulated among the people asking what kind of transaction they wished to make. And, those who were not waiting to deposit money were directed to the proper office or person.

 

 

 

 

The teller that helped Sultan was an Arab speaking young lady, so between English and Arabic, the transaction went smoothly. Sultan produced his bank card….signed his name a couple times….picked up his receipt…..and we were out of there.

But sometimes things that seem to go well are not as they appear. Throughout the remainder of Saturday afternoon…..and all day Sunday…..Sultan repeatedly tried to use his debit card…..only to be informed by the ATM that he had no funds of deposit. Thinking maybe the ATM was faulty, we found another ATM….. Same result. Thinking maybe that not enough time had elapsed between the transaction….we waited a while. Same result. No funds on deposit.

It was obvious that Sultan was a little bit upset….and certainly worried. But, he had kept his receipt. There was nothing to do but wait and take care of it when the bank opened on Monday.

For our afternoon enjoyment we chose to go to the Oklahoma Museum of Art. It was another opportunity to venture into downtown Oklahoma City again….actually not very far from the ill-fated trip to the Bank of American earlier that same morning. It may have been more efficient….time-wise, at least…..to have gone there in the morning since were already almost within walking distance from it. But, neither Sultan nor I knew anything about where these places were located. Neither of us could predict their location by looking at their address. We were dependent on the trusty GPS….and strictly at its mercy.

We had no problems locating the building. Our major problem became one of finding a parking place within walking distance of the museum. The Oklahoma City Museum of Art is located quite near the Civic Center Music Hall. There was obviously an important even taking place there later in the afternoon or evening…..and already parking lots and parking spaces had been blocked off in preparation for the event. We managed to find a parking spot about a block from the building…. Not bad considering the number of spaces that had already been closed.

The Oklahoma City Museum of Art is not exactly on the same level as the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. But….on the other hand, the Valley Falls High School gym isn’t really comparable to Allen Field House. But…. It gets the job done….and that is what counts. On this occasion the museum was displaying an exhibit of paintings by Henri Matisse….a French artist who specialized in impressionistic painting. Matisse is a fairly contemporary artist, having died in 1954. The paintings hanging the galleries were on loan from the Pompidou Center in Paris, one of the most prominent modern art museums in the world.

In addition to the several paintings of Matisse….which I rather suspect were not his most famous, but nevertheless impressive…..were other paintings from their permanent collection. At least on the afternoon we were there, the paintings in the galleries consisted entirely of modern and abstract art. I do not know… Maybe it is like this all the time. In any case, abstract art is my preferred form of art….so I was pleased. Sultan seemed attracted to it immediately. Sultan seemed to like and appreciate the art almost immediately….a fact that both surprised and pleased me. As a matter of fact, judging by the number of pictures he took, I think he could have them all enlarged….and start his own little art gallery back in his hometown in Saudi Arabia….where I can imagine that this type of art is completely foreign……and, knowing the Saudi Arabians, probably illegal.

 

 

 

 

On Saturday evening we continued our three-day tradition by returning to Starbucks and ordering some form ice-coffee. We sat on the outside patio and talked….and watched the Oklahoma City redneck teenagers roar past trying to show off with what they considered to be their “hot” cars. The truth be told….most of the cars simply sounded like their mufflers had rusted out and needed to be replaced. But, I am not complaining. It was pleasant sitting there, trying to shield my face from the sun…..and drinking overpriced Starbucks coffee.

Later, as the sun was sinking below the horizon, we returned to ZamZam, Sultan’s favorite Arab restaurant….the same place we had eaten Friday night….for our supper. It was the same delicious buffet….the same food we had already eaten. But, this time something went wrong. I didn’t notice it immediately, but after I went to bed that night, I had an acute case of indigestion! I wasn’t really sick…. There was no danger of vomiting or anything like that. But, for most of the night, I lay in bed, extremely uncomfortable….with a big glob of undigested food in my stomach. Sultan went to sleep immediately. He had no idea that I was lying in the adjacent bed….wide awake…and feeling miserable. I drank copious amounts of water, hoping that would help. It didn’t. There was a bottle of pop in the refrigerator. I drank that….in hopes the fizz would break up the food. It didn’t. I remembered that I had a package of Tums in the car. I pulled on a shirt and shorts and thongs….went to the car and got them. Maybe they would help. They didn’t.

I am not really sure I got any sleep that night. If I did sleep….it was not for very long periods at a time. It was a long, miserable night…..and a lonely night. There really wasn’t a lot I could do without waking Sultan. And, I didn’t want to do that. Why have two miserable people? By sunrise on Sunday morning, I was feel just a bit better….although not much. Eating breakfast….a little bit, at least….seemed to help, too. Although not much. But, as the morning progressed, I had begun to feel better. At least, I was feeling more and more confident that perhaps I would live.

There were two big events on the agenda for Sunday. Three, actually. Before we did anything else, I thought it would be a good idea to drive to the driver’s license bureau where Sultan would take his driving test on Monday morning. He had been there before…although not from the location of our motel….and he did not drive there himself. Being very cautious by nature, I thought it was a good idea to make a practice run….just as extra insurance….and for my peace of mind.

Our first stop of the day was at the Oklahoma City National Memorial…..site of the former Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building which was bombed in April of 1995, killing 168 people. The museum is closed until noon on Sunday, but the memorial is open 24 hours a day, 356 days a year for the public to view. The outdoor memorial is simple, but impressive. The memorial is framed by two Gates of Time….located at opposite ends of a reflecting pool. One gate represents 9:01 A. M., one minute before the bomb detonated…..the second gate symbolizes 9:03 A. M., one minute after the explosion, the minute the healing process began.

To the side of the reflecting pool, there are 168 bronze and stone chairs representing the number of people killed in the blast. Each chair is resting on a glass base with the name of the victim engraved on it. Even now more than twenty years later, people still leave flowers and other souvenirs in remembrance of the people they lost.

The second major event of the day was a visit to the Science Museum of Oklahoma. This turned out to be an interactive and entertaining occasion. Many….if not most museums…..are rows of displays behind glass-enclosed cabinets….with signs warning to “Do Not Touch”. This museum was the polar opposite. Almost every exhibit was constructed as a “hands-on” exhibit. One might thinks that it was intended exclusively for school children…..and there were plenty of young people there….. But, there were people of all ages who were enjoying the learning experience by actively engaging with the exhibits.

Sultan was no exception. One of the fun experiences he had was riding a Segway scooter….something I wish I had been brave enough to try. There were a multitude of other exhibitions dealing with such diverse topics and weather, physics, space, sound, health, magnetism…. There was even a house of mirrors…..and a room full of visual illusions. It was also fun to stand in front of the “green screen”…..like the one they have in TV studios to do the weather forecast. That is….it was fun until a couple kids came barging in front of us. A couple redneck kids with no visible manners who had apparently strayed from their parents….who probably had no manner either. Why do you think kids get that way?

We looked at a great many of the exhibits…. Sultan even experimented with a few of them….certainly more than I did. I did venture into a “wind tunnel”….where the wind speed was gradually increased from Zero to around 80 mph or somewhere around hurricane force. The wind wasn’t as strong as I had imagined it to be. Although Sultan actively engaged in many of them…..It was I who was able to decipher far more of the visual illusions.

To have tried out each station would have taken much more time than we had available, but we saw enough and participated enough to make the couple hours we spent there well worth our time. And, it remarkable how quickly time passes when a person is actively engaged as a participant….rather than merely a passive observer. The Science Museum of Oklahoma would be a good model for other museums to copy….if they want to improve their effectiveness….and their appeal.

Our only misadventure….a little embarrassing, but certainly not our fault….was when we wandered into an art exhibition which was being held in the museum building. We saw the advertisement. It looked interesting. We decided to investigate it. There was a young man seated near the door….. We walked right past him…..completely unnoticed. He was reading a good…and never even looked up at us. We honestly never gave him a second thought. Once we were inside the large room….a gallery, I suppose….another guy came walking toward us. “Do you have a ticket?” he asked.

“A ticket? Nobody told us we had to have a ticket,” I responded.

“Yes…. This is not part of the science museum,” he said.

“Oh…. Sorry….,” we said, as we retreated toward the entrance.

As we walked back out the door, the guy was still sitting in his chair….still reading a book….still paying no attention to us. I thought it was a rather strange situation….and I wonder how many other people just walked right past him….unnoticed…. And, I also wonder why they continue to employ a person who so obviously was not doing his job. Oh well….I really don’t think we missed much. It was an exhibit we certainly would never have paid money to see… But….Like they say, “It’s the principle…..”

Following this adventure, we drove back to our motel for a few minutes of nap time….getting ready for my final night in Oklahoma City. When we started out again, we took some stray pictures that I had neglected to take prior to then….odds and in’s that had eluded my attention. Again, this Sunday night, we found ourselves sitting in our “favorite” Starbucks….in our same “favorite” spot….waiting until it was time to eat supper.

Not wanting to tempt fate again….I was not at all looking forward to another sleepless night with indigestion…..we made the decision to find different place to eat. We settled on Indian food and found an Indian buffet that was still open. And….remember, things close early in Oklahoma City. We arrived at the Indian place about 8:45…..plenty of time to eat before its posted closing time at 9:30. We were among the very few people eating there that night….or at least, at that time. Shortly after 9:00, it became quite apparent that the owner wanted to close the place down…..with the waiters standing around looking at us…..and asking, “Will you need anything else from the buffet?” Well, I wasn’t born yesterday. It was time to get out of there and let them go home….and do whatever it is that people in Oklahoma City do at 9:30 at night. Probably go to bed.

We returned to the motel to get a good night’s sleep before my final day with Sultan.

From the first minute I met Fayez at the Days Inn Motel, he did all the driving. The number one reason was that I did not want to drive in Oklahoma City. My vision is not good enough; my reaction time is not quick enough; and I am totally unfamiliar with the city. The second reason that Sultan did all the driving was to give him some additional experience….a sort of refresher course…..before he took his driving test. Sultan is a good driver. No doubt about it. His main fault is not consistently obeying the traffic rules and regulations. Not because he doesn’t know them…..but because he often sees no point in obeying them.

“No cars are coming.” “Nobody cares.” “Nobody else obeys them.” “I will do it when I take the test.” A typical teenager. No….more than likely, a typical driver. Anyway, I was pretty insistent that he follow the rules….whether anybody was looking or not. Turn into the correct lane. Stop behind the stop sign. Signal every for every turn…even when changing lanes…. And, of course, I already knew that he would follow all the rules when the examiner was sitting beside him. But….my theory: Make it a habit, and then you do not have to even think about it.

We arrived at the driver’s license bureau in plenty of time. There were already several people waiting in line when the got there. “Is there anybody here who is taking their driving test today?” the guy in charge called out. Sultan seemed to be the only one. Lucky break. He immediately filled out the proper forms…..paid the fee….and we proceeded back to our car to wait for the examiner to arrive.

Sultan was confident. I was confident. We looked up and saw a black man walking toward us. He was the one and only black examiner….among four or five others. I didn’t think very much about it. “You’ll have to wait here…..,” he told me.

“Duhhhhh….” I thought and politely moved aside, leaving Sultan and the examiner to themselves. I started walking back to the building. I turned around to watch for a minute. Left front signal light…..right front signal light…..lights…dim…bright; windows….up then down; brakes…. Yes, they work; horn…Yeah, I heard it…..

I started walking on toward the building to wait. I happened to turn around to see if they had left…..and I saw the black guy walking back toward the building. I stopped him… Well, he didn’t actually stop…he just kept on walking…. “How did he do?” I asked assuming that maybe it was all finished. He just kept on walking. “Ask him,” he more or less snarled, as he continued walking.

Sultan had no idea what had happened. The guy told him only that the car had not passed inspection…..and had pointed at the strip of dark tint that goes across the top of my front windshield. I was totally confused….and puzzled. What had gone wrong? Having a strip of tint across the top of the windshield is not illegal. In fact, it is a safety feature. I am not sure how to describe what Sultan was feeling. Disbelief? Confusion? Puzzlement? And, to make matters worse, his language skills at the time were not good enough to ask the guy what the problem was. “Tint” was not even a part of his vocabulary.

We sat in the car for a couple minutes just trying to absorb what had gone wrong….what the problem was….what we had neglected to take into consideration…..

After a bit of discussion, Sultan….with a feeling of futility….said that he would simply renew his learner’s permit. I was still not satisfied. In fact, I was a little angry by the manner in which the black guy had treated both Sultan and me. We walked back into the building so Sultan could renew his learner’s permit. The guy in charge….and another of the inspectors…..recognized us and came over and asked us what the problem was. I told him honestly that I did not know. And, Sultan told him that he did not understand what the guy had said to him.

The man in charge and the other guy were also puzzled….and disappeared for a few minutes before returning. It turned out that it did indeed involved the strip of dark tint in the front windshield. Its height exceeded the Oklahoma regulation. It was one-fourth inch too high! A quarter inch. I explained to the man that this was my car….registered in Kansas….and it was not the car that Sultan would be driving. They looked at each other and sort of shrugged their shoulders. Both of them were sympathetic. “No,” they said. They were not in a position to over-rule another inspector’s decision. Could we make an appointment for tomorrow? Could Sultan borrow somebody’s car? Did he have a friend who could bring him there?

OK…. Those are the facts. That is the chronology of what took place.

Now for my opinion: I can just imagine the satisfaction the black man felt in summarily rejecting the safety of the car. I can imagine the feeling of power he must have felt being able to show him domination over an old while guy….and a young Arab boy. And, over such a petty detail. His word was final. He had proved that he was important….that he was a big dog…..that there was nothing the white guy and Arab kid could do about his decision.

There was nothing we could do about his decision. I told Sultan that this was a good example of the attitude many black people have toward Caucasians. “Yeah….I’m in power now. I’ll show you who’s boss.”

The people at the driver’s license bureau gladly completed the forms so that Sultan could renew his learner’s permit. We had to take the paperwork to another bureau in order to actually get the license. We were both feeling rather low and depressed when we left the building. We realized that his was purely a power play….and it had little or nothing to do with the safety of my car…..or the merits of Sultan’s driving.

Our final project of the morning….indeed of my stay in Oklahoma City…..was to return to the Bank of America where Sultan had deposited his money the previous Saturday. I was satisfied that the problem with his deposit was not serious. He had his deposit slip, and any problem could be quickly resolved. I was right. Again, there was a long line of people waiting, but a representative soon approached Sultan and asked why he was there. After looking at his deposit slip…..and checking her little hand-held computer, she soon discovered the problem: People can deposit money on Saturday….but it is not recorded until the following Monday. His money had been duly deposited….Sultan was happy and relieved. A crisis averted.

We ate lunch…..somewhere. And, then it was time for me to head back to Kansas. This time, I took Sultan to the house where he lives…..instead of to McDonalds’. The house is only one block from a main road that leads straight to I-35. It was a straight line….. Surely I would not get lost in Oklahoma City.

It had been a great three days…..full of adventure and fun and odd twists…. I was sad to leave. But, it was time to get “On the Road Again.”

I spent the night in a rather second-rate motel in Blackwell, Oklahoma, before proceeding on home the following morning. All good things must eventually come to an end. And, spending time with Sultan is definitely a good thing.

About one hundred fifty years ago, Hoarce Greeley, a newspaper editor somewhere back East, urged his readers to “Go West, young man. Go West.”

That is the advice I usually follow when it is time to start planning a vacation…. Have you ever heard anybody say, “Go East……?” Ahhh…Yes…..the Golden West. Take your pick of the natural beauty…..the Great Plains, the desert, the mountains…plenty of them, the forests, the ocean. And, we haven’t even begin to talk about Mt. Rushmore, Little Big Horn, Yellowstone National Park, Yosemite National Park, the Redwoods, the Columbia River Valley, the spectacular rock formations of southern Utah….. And, to break the monotony of nature, go visit Salt Lake City and listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir….and take in their slick propaganda displays, or spend a night in Reno….a manageable little city with bright lights and a few slot machines. And, there is always Denver or Portland or San Francisco….if you really feel you have to be surrounded by people and traffic for a day or two.

This year, however, we marched to the beat of a different drummer…. The drummer that was was coaxing us….Fayez and me….imploring us…..to Go East. Actually, I don’t think our intention….or even our expectation…..was to “see” things, as much as it was to drive through as many states as possible in as short a time period as possible…..and still say we were “on vacation”.

It probably goes without saying that no matter where we go, it is all going to be new to Fayez. West, East, North or South…. He knows nothing….very little, at least….about the USA, its geography, its people, its history…. Well, let’s just say, that being from Saudi Arabia…..they don’t spend a lot of time talking about the USA….at least, about it’s geography or history. Before you go sputtering all the patriotic stuff…. How many of you know anything about Saudi Arabia? Or the Middle East? Or Europe? Or Asia? Or Africa? Yeah…..that’s that I thought. And, remember…..it works both ways!

Of course, I have always believed that if you want to see natural beauty….Go West. If you want to experience the history of our nation…..Go East. And…..maybe, if you want to go somewhere that has for a long time been left in in the dust…..and fading quickly in the rear view mirror…..Go South.

When I started planning the trip…..Wow….back in February…. I set only a few criteria to meet. We had only 14 days…..exactly 14 days…..to complete the journey. As usual, when I plan a trip, there isn’t much….if any….time for improvising. We must be at a certain spot on the map at a certain time….. The campgrounds are already booked….and paid for. It is not like we can just decide not to show up….. Well, we can, I guess. But, the campground is paid for….and they are not going to refund any money. And….then where do we stay? Will there be a suitable campground….one with vacant camping cabins…..nearby? Or will be still be looking after darkness falls…..or will we be forced to stay in an expensive motel?

But, getting back to the criteria. We wanted to drive through as many states as possible. We wanted to keep the daily mileage within about eight hours driving time. We wanted to keep pursuing our goal with as few detours as possible.   A couple times in the past we initially drove ten and eleven hour days. The long distances were justified because…..well, there was nothing to see…..and we just wanted to cover the miles. But, driving an eight hour day…. We can still cover 500 miles, and still arrive at our campground with plenty of sunshine left in the day….. So Fayez could go for a run….and I could take a nap.

Camping can be very relaxing at the end of a day’s drive. We (I) can take a nap….We can get our camp set up….Fayez can cook our supper….. We can sit in front of the campfire and talk…..

Finding campgrounds that are fairly equally spaced apart is sometimes tricky…..especially considering that we only stayed at KOA campgrounds. But, this is not my first rodeo….so to speak. Learning from prior experience, I started planning the trip….and the route we would take…in February. If something happened to go wrong….this would afford plenty of time to make alternative plans…… And, it would also assure that we might possibly get the cabin closest to the showers! That doesn’t always work…. But, it is always worth a try.

Why only KOA? Mostly because I have a membership in KOA…..and I have a membership card that gives a 10% discount off the regular price of a camping space…..no matter what kind of site we choose. On this trip, things worked out pretty well. KOA’s are rather plentiful…. The only state that does not have a KOA was Delaware. Who knows why not? But, I was able to book a site with a cabin in one of the state parks… And, for actually less money than we paid for a KOA site.

There were only two problems areas: Washington, D. C. and New York City. There simply are not a lot of KOA campgrounds in Times Square…..or in DuPont Circle! In those two cites our only recourse was to stay in a hotel….. Either that….or stay awake twenty-four hours a day…..or sleep in a doorway, which come to think about it, wouldn’t have been so unusual in New York City…..and it certainly would have been a lot cheaper!

So…..It was the middle of February…..and the planning was complete. All the campgrounds had been reserved…..the route was more or less locked in….. It would take a few weeks longer to decide on the hotels. Should I go ahead and book rooms in both Washington, D. C. and New York City…..or should I wait? If I book them now…. Will the price go down? If I wait and book them later….. Will the price have gone up? There comes a point when I said, “The heck with it. I may as well get it over with…..” Once those reservations had been made….the only things was to wait….

Sometimes waiting is the hardest part of the trip. I constantly go over the plans…. Are all of the reservations made and confirmed? Is the route the most time efficient as it can be? Is picking up the rental car going to go smoothly? Is some catastrophic event going to prevent us from even going on the trip? Is the weather going to cooperate? Will it be too hot, too cold….? Check the long-range forecasts.

But, there is one factor that we do not have to be concerned about….. And, that is all the stuff we are going to take with us. Over the years, I have refined the list to rather exact proportions! In some of the early years we left things we needed behind…and we had to buy these things along the way. Or we took a lot of junk we didn’t need and never used. It took up valuable space and created extra work in packing and unpacking every day. Now…..the list is refined and polished. Everything that goes into the car is something that is necessary…..and something that will be used. No useless….maybe we might need this….stuff.

We have added and subtracted over the years….. Yes….we had better take insect repellant; No….we don’t need the dirty, cumbersome cast iron skillet….. A heavy jacket is always welcome. Sleeping bags…. Leave them at home and take old sheets and blankets instead. They are much more streamline to pack…..and take up a lot less space. So….. If anybody wants to buy my list…. Just contact me! With a little negotiating…..I am sure we can settle on a fair price! Of course, I won’t guarantee it will work for you. But, it sure works for us.

Thursday, May 12, finally arrived. That was a busy day for me. Get everything on the list….and make sure it was sitting in plain sight in the front room. Everything….down to the last plastic fork. Leave something sitting on the kitchen counter? You are probably going to forget it. Leave the camping chairs in the garage. They will no doubt be there when you get back. So….Everything on the list is placed in the front room…..and checked off the list. Yeah…..the front room is a mess….every available surface covered….except for my recliner, of course. But, one night of clutter is worth the effort.

Fayez told me a month ago that he will come up on Thursday evening….after his last class, so he can help me get all the stuff together. Great. Somebody is share in the work is welcome. A week before we leave….. “No, I have a meeting on Thursday evening. I will come early on Friday morning. I will be there by 9:00.” OK…..Better late than never, I suppose. The Tuesday before we are to leave: “I have to meet with my professor Friday morning. I will meet you in Topeka.” Well….there goes any hope of getting any help! I guess I should have known, in the final analysis, I would be doing all the work by myself. It usually happens that way.

Friday dawns. First, I have to take my computer to Holton, drop it off for some service….then drive on to Topeka where I will meet Fayez and Sam for lunch at the Billard Airport Cafe. So far, everything is going as planned. And why not? These are things that I have control over! Around 2:00, lunch is over. Time to go pick up the rental car.

Pick it up, indeed! I had rented a car from Hertz online…..and I was supposed to pick it up at 3:00. We left my car at my brother’s house and then drove to the Hertz location on South Topeka to pick up the car. But….OUR can had not been returned yet. “Come back in an hour…and it will be ready for you.” OK…. Not what we had planned…..or what we had agreed upon. But, OK…. What’s an hour? We drove….in Fayez’s car….to Lake Shawnee where Fayez immediately put the seat back…..and proceeded to take a nap. I tried to sleep….but without some sort of pillow, it was really not possible. I walked down to the rest rooms….walked up and down the sidewalk…..

It was nearing the end of the hour, so I walked back to the car to wake up Fayez. We returned to the Hertz place about an hour and a half after we returned….ready to get the keys to the car and get out of there. But….no car. Time was starting to pass by…..4:30….5:00…… There was nothing to do except wait…..if we wanted a car. It was sort of hard to be angry as I watched the hassled clerk calling people, saying, “Where’s the car you are supposed to bring back?” Or fielding telephone calls from other customers, saying, “No….We don’t have any cars available.” Finally, the guy told me in mild desperation, “OK, we will go ahead and give you THIS car”….pointing at a car in the next higher classification. “We just got to get it cleaned out…..”

That was OK with me…. Fayez was sitting in his car, probably messing with his cell phone…. At almost the same time the larger car was cleaned out and ready to go…. It happened! OUR car pulled into the parking lot. “Oh, wow…. That is a much smaller car….”

I must say, the people at Hertz were just as annoyed and hassled as we were. It was graduation weekend in Topeka….and other surrounding towns. Every car from every car rental agency in Topeka, Manhattan and Lawrence had been rented. At least, that is the guy said. And, I believe him. I was more than happy that I had rented the car a couple months earlier……or we may have been hitch hiking.

True to his word, as soon as we got back to my house, Fayez started packing all the stuff we were taking with us into the car….. It all fit…..but there was not a square inch of space left over when he finished, however. I must say, I am probably the better packer. But, after a long day, I was not going to sweat the small stuff. The car was packed…..and were ready to take off on our latest adventure.

Saturday morning, May 17, we were in the car, pulling out of the driveway at 8:03….. We had missed our….at least, MY….goal by three minutes. But, considering it could have been 9:03 or even 10:03…..who is going to complain. When we look at it that way…..I suppose we were actually early!

We drove through Kansas City. Nothing new there. Next was St. Louis. Been there…. Done that. We saw the infamous Arch from the car window. But….I am never going back there again. So…..we proceeded on our way to Benton, Illinois….for first KOA of the trip. Fayez prepared a delicious meal…. We sat and talked for a while in front of the fire…..

Sunday….we drove to Milton, West Virginia….our second KOA of the trip. Fayez prepared a delicious meal….. We sat and talked for a while in front of the fire…..

Monday…..we drove to Fredericksburg, Virginia….our third KOA of the trip. Fayez prepared a delicious meal…. We sat and talked for a while in front of the fire……

Are you starting to detect a pattern to our travel on this trip?

Fayez didn’t want to stop….. It wasn’t so much of a sightseeing trip as it was a “let’s just get there” trip. As I look back, this could have happened for a reason…or a combination of reasons.
Maybe the main fault was mine. I probably should have designated definite stopping points along the way…..historical sites, natural sites, point of interest. As it was, we had merely agreed to stop and see interesting things as they happened to occur. The problem with this approach is that Fayez knew absolutely nothing about where we were going….what we were going to see…. He had no concept or understanding of the historical significance of anything we might see. For the most part, he was completely uninformed about any social or political importance of events that had taken place in the Middle Atlantic and New England States.

Before we planned the trip, I told him several times that it was going to be far different than the trips we had taken previously. There would be no ocean beaches, no miles of evergreen forests following rushing rivers, no mountains with snow-covered peaks, no long drives through barren deserts…..no waterfalls along the Columbia River….. But, until a person has experienced something, it is usually difficult to empathize with the situation. I mean….does a foreigner really care about the foundations of our country? Are they interested in the wars we have fought…..not only against a foreign country, but also among our own citizens? Do people who are outsiders know….or care….who our great leaders were? George Washington, Thomas Jefferson…..?

If I were to go to Saudi Arabia….. Well…in the first place, I probably will never go to Saudi Arabia…. But, I am sure I would feel the same way. I know nothing about their history…about their historical sites….about what is important to them….or why. I am sure I would be polite and try to appear to be interested…..maybe even ask some questions….take some pictures….

So….it is probably not very realistic to expect a foreigner….especially a foreigner of a radically different culture….religion….and background…..to be terribly interested in a similarly strange and alien environment.

We spent our last night of simply driving….of “getting there”….in Fredericksburg, VA. This is only an hour or so outside Washington, D.C. There has been a lot of history that took place in and around Fredericksburg…..but we didn’t see any of it. I remember this KOA for a few different reasons. When we arrived, the owner of the KOA said that this day was the first day in 17 continuous days that it had not rained. She said we had brought them Good Luck! I am sure she said that to everybody who arrived that day! But…it was nice. The second thing: When I looked into our cabin, there was no chair to sit on. What good is a computer desk with no chair? I went back to the office to ask about it. They took a chair our of the neighboring cabin. Fortunately, nobody stayed in the cabin that night! Thirdly…if there is such a word…. It was the only KOA where the owner volunteered to take a picture of Fayez and me standing in front of their KOA sign. Nice of them…. And….Last….Well, I will get to that in a couple minutes.

Up until this point in the trip, not much happened….as you probably have already surmised. However, Tuesday morning we woke with a sense of anticipation. Something was about to happen! At last. But…..not much.

We drove a short distance to the north to Washington, D.C. The first familiar site that greeted us was the Pentagon, in suburban Arlington, VA. This huge office building houses the Department of Defense. It has five sides….five inner rings…..and has five stories. It is situated on a five acre park-like setting… Maybe this is why it is called the Pentagon. It is without doubt one of the largest office building in the world. More than twenty-five thousand military and non-military personnel work there…..in offices that line its eighteen miles of corridors.

Shortly after we passed by the Pentagon, Arlington National Cemetery came into site, with the landmark Curtis-Lee Mansion overlooking the cemetery from atop a high knoll. We passed over the Potomac River, wound our way past the Lincoln Memorial into downtown Washington. With the aid of our GPS, we had no problem arriving at the location of our hotel.

But, this is when the easy part ended….and the fun and games began. As I had suspected, there was no on-sight parking at our quaint little hotel….The Embassy Inn. The ads for the hotels always have a vague hope of “Parking Available”. The part they neglect to mention is that the parking is not at the hotel….and it is not free…..and it is usually not convenient. If you are extremely lucky, you will find an empty parking space somewhere within a couple blocks of the hotel. And, these parking spaces are only temporary…..for a few hours, at the most.

We were one of the lucky few that the parking gods had favored that day. We found a parking place….on the opposite side of the street….about two blocks from the hotel…..and we felt lucky indeed. We had arrived a couple hours before our check-in time. We were hoping that maybe our luck would continue and our room would be ready and waiting for us. But, we had no such luck. Now we were playing the game of “hurry up and wait”. Even though our room was not available yet, the receptionist took our bags….and we retired to the waiting room….such as it was….to sit and wait until we could move in. Our luck did prevail inasmuch as we were apparently the first guests to check in that afternoon…..and the rooms were being prepared on a “first come, first served” basis.

When we arrived, there was a young man sitting in the waiting room, obviously waiting for his room…..just like us. However, our names were called first…..and he was still sitting there when we went to our room. And….he was still sitting there when we passed through the lobby on our way to lunch……and he was still sitting there when we left the hotel the following morning….. I am not sure what was going on, but I began to suspect that he was sitting in the waiting room because there was no place for him to sit in his hotel room!

 

 

 

Our room was sparse, to say the least. Two single beds and perhaps a dresser. And that was it. And in order for me to get to my bed, I had to squeeze through a small space that separated the bed from the wall. The single window looked out on an alley. It would be a mistake to say that the room was comfortable….or attractive….or inviting….. I knew when I was looking for hotel rooms that I was probably scraping the bottom of the barrel. But, even this room was a budget buster at more than $200 a night! That is the price a person pays to spend a night in Washington, D.C.

By the time we were settled in our hotel room….and by time we had found a place to eat lunch….and by the time we had taken a quick drive around Washington…. It was time to find a permanent place to park the car. A parking garage was our only viable option. The clerk at the hotel suggested a parking garage….probably received a kickback from everybody she referred….a few blocks away from the hotel. Fayez….bless his heart….took care of the car, while I took a quick nap.

We capped off the night by sitting on the front lawn of our hotel. It was a pleasant, but cool evening as we sat and talked and watched the people was they strolled past on the sidewalk….and the traffic on the street. “A jacket would feel pretty good right now,” I thought, as I walked to our room to retrieve it. “Where is the jacket?” I wondered as I searched the room. “I must have left it in the car.”

 

 

 

The next day we checked the car. No jacket. Nowhere…. That could mean only one thing: I had left it at the KOA in Fredricksburg. But….how could that happen? I always check the cabins so thoroughly before we leave them. The only thing I could do was to call them to ask if they had found it…..something I did immediately, from outside the buffet where we had just eaten. The guy who answered the telephone apparently had a bad connection. About all he would say was, “I can’t hear you.” or “The connection is bad.”

I tried again the following morning from in front of the hotel. “Yes, we found it hanging on the hook behind the door.” Insofar as I could remember, this was the only cabin I had stayed in that even had a hook behind the door. Lucky me. “Will you please mail the jacket to my home for me?” I asked. “Yes. Give us your credit card number…..” Well….that is the other reason I will remember Fredricksburg. I spent the remainder of the nights wrapped in a blanket. It was the only way I could stay warm….sitting in front of our campfire looking like an Indian Chief….or an Egyptian mummy.

But…wait. That isn’t the end of the story. When we arrive back home, I had fully expected to find the jacket waiting for me. There was no jacket waiting. I called the KOA on the telephone again. “Oh…. It is still here. But, we will get it mailed today.” I also wrote them an e-mail message to reinforce the reminder. A week later….the jacket still had not arrived. “Oh… There is no mail pickup because it is the 4th of July. But, as will mail it the day after the 4th.” So….one month from the day we stayed in the campground…..the jacket arrived. Not exactly the prompt, friendly, “come back again” service that I had expected. But, at least, my new jacket is hanging safely in my closet. And, I will never hang it on a hook behind the door again.

Many, many years earlier, I had lived in Washington, D.C. for two or three months while I studied the Vietnamese language. This was in the mid-60’s. Back in those days, Washington was a fairly open city. Of course, there was still a fence around the White House! But, many tourists strolled on the sidewalk in front, sticking their cameras between the bars of the fence to take pictures. One day we were wandering about the Capitol Building….completely unobstructed….admiring the opulent beauty of the building. We gradually became aware that perhaps we had wandered too far…. In front of us was the office of the Speaker of the House! Nobody said a word to us…. Nobody told us to leave….. However, as I recall, we decided that maybe we had better retreat just a bit. But…this was entirely our own decision…..and not as the result of whistles blowing and wailing sirens.

On this visit, our closest access to the White House was outside an exterior fence about two blocks away. We jostled with the milling crowd for our turn at a favorable position to take some pictures. And….then we left. There was not much else to do. We never attempted to entire the Capitol Building…..let alone roam freely through the hallways. I am pretty sure if we had attempted this, I would be languishing somewhere in a federal prison waiting for my trial right now…..instead of writing this blog.

Actually, we didn’t even bother walking up to the Capitol Building. The structure was undergoing an extensive renovation, and stacks of construction material were piled everywhere; sections of the Capitol grounds were roped off because of the on-going construction; the dome was encased in an ugly scaffolding……and I doubt if Fayez was really very interested in seeing it anyway. Even if we had of gone inside the Capitol Building….and roamed the halls freely…. I doubt if we would have posed a security threat because most of the members of Congress had probably already gone home……or they were playing Solitaire on their computers…. One things is for sure: They were not busy passing laws that would benefit the country.

We got back on the tour bus which took us to the Washington Monument. The Washington Monument is not very interactive….but it is an impressive structure….with good views of both the Lincoln Memorial and the Jefferson Memorial. If I had been younger….in better shape….and slightly less sane…..we could have climbed the 898 steps to the top. But….we left that to those who had nothing better to do…..or who wanted to see how long it would take before they had a heart attack.

As for us…..we moved on to the Jefferson Memorial, on the south side of the Tidal Basin. This domed edifice is a tribute to the third President of the USA….Thomas Jefferson. It is more interactive than the Washington Monument insofar as it at least contains some exhibits of the life and accomplishments of Jefferson. However, the most outstanding feature is the huge statue of Jefferson in the center of the rotunda…..surrounded by many of the famous quotations found in his various writings. Fayez was fascinated with many of the quotations. I am also an admirer Thomas Jefferson…..but I have heard and read these sayings almost all my life….while they were all new and exciting to Fayez. Of course, Jefferson was the author of many of our basic freedoms….especially, I suppose….our principles of religious freedom….and the basic freedoms of freedom of speech, press and assembly.

The next stop on our tour was the Lincoln Memorial. I don’t know….. Maybe this is the most impressive monument in our nation’s capital…..a huge statue of a brooding Abraham Lincoln sitting in a chair in the middle of the memorial. The statue is sitting in a rotunda which can be reached by climbing a mountain of stairs. I was afraid that Fayez would be exploring this monument by himself. But, we discovered that there is indeed an elevator, so I was relieved that I would be able to enter the great rotunda and stand in the presence of our great 16th President of the USA….the president who signed the proclamation that granted freedom to the slaves.

From the Lincoln Memorial, we were treated to an impressive panorama of the Reflecting Pool and the Washington Monument. Nearby….and slightly to the northeast of the Lincoln Memorial is the location of the Vietnam War Memorial. It is an understated….but highly impressive and majestic….tribute to those men and women who lost their lives in the Vietnam War. The memorial…..a wall which winds gracefully through the park-like setting….contains the names of each of the almost 58,000 soldiers, sailors and airmen who died while serving their country in this war. This memorial is a stark reminder of the lives lost in a war that was never won.

Fayez was eager to see the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial, which is also located in the immediate area. So, we departed the bus and walked the short distance to the memorial. I had little interest in this display, so I sat on a bench and waited while Fayez walked through the large plaques containing quotations of King…..and looked at the statues which bore only a slight resemblance to the famous civil right leader.

Our final stop on our tour was at the Albert Einstein Memorial. Although it is not one of the more famous or popular stops on the tour, the statue is a whimsical tribute to one of the greatest scientific minds of last century. At the time we stopped, it was also the playground of a small child, accompanied by his obviously bored mother, who was enjoying a few minutes of peace and freedom while the young boy spoiled the photos of everybody who wanted to take a picture. Nearby was a museum of science. I had planned to sit on a bench near Einstein’s statue and wait while Fayez toured the museum. But, after a few minutes, he re-appeared, having decided it was not worth the effort.

Other than the White House, that concluded our stops on the Washington, D. C. bus tour. We did hop on another bus and take a quick ride through Georgetown….and some of northern suburbs…..but basically our time in Washington had come to an end.

Yes…..We also did some other things. We walked about three blocks in a pouring rain to eat lunch is a well-known downtown buffet. We took our own little tour of the city the night we arrived….a drive through Georgetown, George Washington University, the Rock Creek Park, the Pentagon….. I really have no recollection of where we ate on either night….. Somewhere….

It is a hopeless task….or wishful thinking, at best…..to imagine that you can appreciate Washington D. C. in one day. The best we could do was take the guided tour….an on and off bus…..and at least, superficially scratch the outer surface of the city. We perhaps took the essential tourist tour. After we departed, about all we could say was that we had been to Washington, D. C.

Washington, D. C. is a “destination” vacation. It is not merely a place you pass through for a day. It would take days….even weeks…..to even make a dent in all that the city has to offer. This is our nation’s capital…..and it is packed full with hundreds of very significant and important places to visit and things to see. To think you can even open the door a tiny crack….let alone walk inside the room….is naive and delusional. But….for the sake of Fayez, we did at least catch a superficial glance of five or six of the more important sites. As for me, the trip was disappointing….tiring….and not very satisfying. But…..We came….We saw…..and…. We took some pictures.

The next day….Thursday….was without any doubt…..was the highlight of the entire trip. We drove to Georgetown, Delaware, to visit Dusty Davis, one of my former students and runners. And, his brother, John…..one of my old golfing partners.

Starting in the 5th or 6th grade, Dusty became interested in running. Maybe it was because his older brother, Kent, was my “original” runner. Somewhere along the way, Kent asked me if I would help him become a runner. We spent many hours…many days….training… Running on the old Ferguson Road when it was nothing but a mud road full of ruts. Running timed laps in the gym. Running the high school stairs. Running 50 yard dashes in the hallway of the grade school. Running 400 and 800 meters on the Topeka West High School track. Lifting weights…. Researching the best running shoes…. At the time, Kent was probably the only serious runner in Valley Falls. He sat the example….the standard…..the prototype…..for runners to follow. We were convinced that we knew more about running than anybody else in town. And, we probably did.

It wasn’t much later when Dusty also became interested in running. I spent many hours….again many days…..many weekends working with him. By this time, we had an organized cross-country program in our high school. Dusty, however, went above and beyond what was required in the practice schedule. He willingly ran on weekends….in the evening. Lucky for Dusty, the Ferguson Road had been blacktopped by this time, so at least he did not have to run on a rut-filled, dirt road.

We adopted Paradise Point as a venue for much of our long-distance running…. We marked out a series of courses…..one mile, five kilometers, ten kilometers…. Sometimes the entire cross-country team would pile into my car or pickup and drive there to run. Other times, it was only Dusty. I can remember one Sunday afternoon. Dusty was running on the Ferguson Road…..He ran along beside my car as I played a tape of Wynton Marsalis performing Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto. Dusty also played the trumpet……and played it quite well.

Dusty was dedicated to running. It paid off for him, too. He rarely failed to earn a medal in the cross-country meets…..and he qualified to run in the State Cross-Country Meet his senior year.

John…..Dusty’s next older brother…..was never interested in running. But, he and I became golfing partners. We spent many hours playing golf at the Village Greens Golf Course. I think we were famous…..at least with the people who owned the golf course…..for playing under conditions that most people would never have considered. We played in extreme heat; we played in the rain; we played when it was cold enough to freeze certain body parts….. We rarely kept score. We played for fun…. And, we were usually too busy talking to bother keeping score anyway.

Now, both Dusty and John are doctors. Dusty is an osteopath, and John is a chiropractor….and both of them have established practices in Georgetown, Delaware. We arrived in Georgetown shortly after noon. Georgetown is a pleasant little town of just under 7,000 people. The downtown is particularly quaint…..and looks like it may have been constructed in the days of the Revolutionary War. I really have no idea if it was…..or not. With the assistance of the GPS, we had no problem locating Dusty’s house. I mean…..How could me miss it? It was the only house in town with K-State banners flying outside on the lawn. Even without the GPS, I am sure we would have found it quickly enough!

I had not seen Dusty since he got married….. Wow…. That had to be probably 20 years ago. So, it was a happy and joyous reunion. Yes…. It was the same old Dusty. Maybe a few pounds heavier….and perhaps a few gray hairs. But…there was no mistake: It was definitely the Dusty that I remembered from so long ago. After greeting us, he briefly showed us his house…..and then suggested we go for lunch. Fayez and I had already planned to take Dusty to lunch. But, Dusty wouldn’t even consider the thought of us paying for the lunch. We ate lunch in an Italian restaurant….sat, talked, reminisced about old times….sort of got to know each other again.

Fayez was able to talk to him about his experiences in medical college….about the expectations, the pressures, the requirements…… Dusty had already been through the experience…..and was able to give Fayez some valuable insights into what he can expect when he is ready to enroll in medical school.

After a brief tour of the town…..and a tour of Dusty’s clinic….we went to John’s office to reunite with him and Karla….and their son. This was an equally pleasant and warm reunion…..accompanied by a pleasant interlude in one of John’s vibrating therapy chairs….. Before we departed, we made plans for a reunion at our campground that evening.

Dusty thoughtfully led us to our campground and helped us locate our cabin. The campground office was already closed by the time we arrived…..but our information packet was waiting for us at our cabin. As I normally do…..I settled down for a nap while Fayez went for a run. Later on, Dusty and his daughter…..and John and Karla….drove up. We started a fire in the fire ring….and sat and talked and gossiped and laughed and reminisced……and drank our share of beer….until it was time for them to return to town. They left with my promise to send Dusty one of the few remaining Ferguson Road Runner shirts….something he vowed to cherish and protect.

The day was pleasant….. It was fun…… It was satisfying…… In fact….This day was the highlight…..the high point….of the entire trip.

The next day, Friday, we continued on to New York City. This was not a part of the trip that I was looking forward to…..driving into New York….driving into downtown…..finding our hotel in mid-Manhattan not far from Times Square. But, Fayez handled it like a pro! Yes….he probably subtracted a few days from my life and added a few more gray hairs, if that is possible. But, that was simply because he is obsessed with his cell phone…and many times seems incapable to putting it down. I often accuse him of being controlled by his cell phone….instead of him being able to control it. But, be that as it is….. Driving and texting…or even driving and looking at a cell phone…..are not safe habits. They are dangerous, in fact…..in Valley Falls, Kansas…..and most certainly in New York City! However…..by skill….by luck…..or purely by a miracle…..we found ourselves in front of our hotel….The Row NYC….in the heart of the city.

For a fee of around $65.00 or so, a guy took our car and disappeared with it. Of course, they gave us a receipt….but we have no idea where they actually took the car. It was a rental car….so I guess: Who cares? Right? At least, it was off our hands until we got ready to leave the city.

Before I go any further…..just let me say: New York City is dirty, crowded, noisy, expensive… And, it didn’t take long to figure all of this out.

Our hotel room cost about $225.00 a night. At least it was nicer than the room we had in Washington, D. C……but it wasn’t a fourth as nice as the motel room where I stay in Lyons….and it cost three times as much. There was no chairs to sit in…..no dresser or chest of drawers…. Only a couple beds. We could actually walk past them without turning sideways or squeezing through. And it was on the top floor….I think. And, it had a good view out the windows to the north and to the west. Actually, it was more of a glorified hostel than it was an actual hotel. It was high enough above the street that we could not hear the street noise. But….it certainly was not high enough to muffle the sound of the police, ambulance and fire trucks that were active the entire day and night.

The first night we were there, we didn’t do much of anything. We went out onto the sidewalk and walked several blocks around the hotel. To say this was a relaxing experience would not be tell the truth! The sidewalk were teaming with humanity. It was next to impossible for Fayez and I to walk side by side…..let alone try to carry on a conversation. I am not sure what all the people were doing. There is really nothing important to see…..no landmarks, no tourist attractions. It was on the edge of the theater district…..and I suspect that many of them where there to (a) see a show (b) hope to see a show (c) catch a glimpse of a “star”) (d) be discovered by a famous producer (e) because they had checked into a cheap hotel like us, or (f) they were lost. It was interesting to hear all the “cheerful” chatter between people on the sidewalk….people, who by the sound of their conversation…..obviously did not know each other…but were trying to sound wise and worldly and “hip”.

After a while of looking at theater marquees and trying to avoid walking into other people, we retreated to our room for the night…..to listen to the wail of sirens on the street below. After Fayez I had fallen asleep….maybe 1:30 or 2:00 A.M…..the sidewalks were still bustling with people….going somewhere…..doing something. Apparently they knew something we didn’t know…..or were seeing things we didn’t see…..

The next morning, we bought tickets for a tour of New York City from one of the many tour buses that roam the city. With only one day to spend in the city….and with no knowledge of the transportation system…..or where anything was located…. This is by far the best way to see New York. We both sat on the upper deck of the bus as it slowly wound its way through the traffic.

Our tour guide was a feisty old woman who tolerated no nonsense from the passengers on the bus. She made it clear from the very beginning that she was the “Star” of the show….and she would not condone any interference in her monologue. I suspect that perhaps she was a former school teacher…..although she never told us. She did say that she was 85 years old…..and had been doing this for … Well, maybe ever since New York had been a city! She turned out to be what I could imagine was a typical old woman with a “New York attitude”…..in your face, abrupt, to the point, take no nonsense. When she was talking, you had better close your mouth and listen! If you didn’t…..You were sure to incur her wrath. “I hear people talking. People paid good money to hear ME talk….not YOU. If you don’t want to be quiet and listen….Get off the bus at the next stop.”

I suppose her dictatorial manner was good, though….. It frightened most of us into listening to her…..hanging on her every word. She did have a treasure of knowledge about the city….and all the landmarks we drove by. One of her favorite lines was, “Now don’t get your cameras yet….but I am going to tell you now about what is up ahead. And, I will tell you when it is best to take your pictures…..” Most of what she told us was interesting…..but some of the things she thought were important were things that I had never heard of….and would never consider taking pictures of. I would get home….and have no idea why I took the pictures. But, she did keep the tour lively….and she tried to make it as informative and exciting as she could. And….before we departed the bus, she was not subtle in warning us that we had better leave a tip for both her and the bus driver. This was on top of the forty or fifty dollars we had already paid for our ticket.

For all practical purposes, we spent the day on a bus. Any thought we may have had of hopping off the bus and checking out any of the tourist attractions….such as the Museum of Modern Art, for example…..were wishful thinking….only part of a fantasy in our minds. The only time we got off the bus was to board a boat which took us on a short tour of New York Harbor…..and views of the Statue of Liberty, some of the famous bridges and the New York skyline. Boarding this boat involved walking several blocks….and eating up much of our time in the afternoon.

We returned to where we started…..retracing much of the route we had already traveled. At that point, we decided to get on another bus….which was covered by our ticket….and see another section of New York City. This time, our tour guide was not so entertaining….and certainly not so dictatorial….merely pointing out landmarks and attractions as we passed by them.

So….that was how we spent the day in New York City. We passed by Times Square, the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, Madison Square Garden, Carnegie Hall, Macy’s Department Store, the United Nations Building, Marble Collegiate Church, the Chrysler Building, the Flatiron Building, Central Park, Ground Zero, the Museum of Modern Art, the Palace Theater, Greenwich Village…even the Trump Towers…..a bunch of places.

It was interesting to see all the different buildings and places that I had only seen on TV or read about in books. Of course, none of this meant anything to Fayez. I don’t know….maybe he had heard of Ground Zero, the spot where the World Trade Towers stood…. The other places were….as they say….Greek to him. I think he was mostly impressed by the tall buildings….and maybe the sight of the Statue of Liberty.

For me, I was disappointed. I am sure I was expecting far too much from New York City. Yes, of course….there were plenty of tall buildings. But they were not as tall as I had expected. Even the Empire State Building was just another tall building…..a little taller than the surrounding buildings….but not as impressive as I had expected….or hoped….it would be. The other famous buildings? Well…..that is what they were….Other buildings. They were all sandwiched in between other buildings, Had it not been for the signs or marquees in front of the building, I am sure that I….and most other people….would have simply passed by them never knowing they were supposed to be something special.

I had expected to walk through the sidewalks of downtown New York City in awe and wonder….unable to keep my eye on the sidewalk…..always gazing at the magnificent towering buildings…..like walking through a canyon of bricks and glass. As it was….my main concern was avoiding running into somebody else….or avoiding a construction barricade that had been set upon the sidewalk….or stepping over trash discarded by vast sea of faceless humanity. The most welcome and the most pleasant times I spent in the city were in hotel….or in a Subway Sandwich Shop….where I could relax and not have to constantly be dodging people or trash….where there was a slight relief from the constant sound of wailing sirens and the ubiquitous smell of exhaust of the tangled traffic.

Perhaps I felt a slight disappointment at not seeing the bums…or the street performers….or the hustlers….or the weirdos….that the late night talk show hosts joke about. But, I am not going to go back to New York City just to look for them. No….. New York City is just a dirty city….and not the beautiful, exciting city I had expected.

At night, faced by the lack of nothing better to do, we decided to take another tour of the city. In order to get to our tour bus, we took a rather round about route….a path that led us through Times Square. The lights were just being turned on. The area was packed with people. It was starting to rain. There was little do….except get wet. We looked at the famous New York Times Building. Not very impressive. I am glad I knew in advance it was famous. I would have never guessed it otherwise. What were all these people doing? I don’t know…..they obviously saw or felt something that I did not feel. I took several pictures. It was still raining. Let’s find our tour bus and get out of this place…..

We sat in open-air deck of the tour bus. It was still raining, but we were given a poncho to wear to help keep us from being thoroughly soaked. At the start of the tour, the upper, open-air deck was crowded. Most of the passengers had the common sense to go down below where it was dry. But, not Fayez and I! We stubbornly stayed on the top deck for the entire trip. On occasion, I attempted to take a few pictures…..but mostly, I tried to protect my camera from the rain. Although this tour bus covered some new territory, we essentially covered much of the same route the other bus had taken earlier. The only difference in this tour was that we were able to see New York City lighted up at night….and we had a younger, much less dramatic…male….tour guide. If anything, driving at night only accentuates the mass of traffic….if only because of the mass of headlights and taillights.

Around midnight, after an exciting and glamorous meal at Subway, and with nothing else to do, we returned to our hotel room for the night….while the “beautiful people” milled the streets below us.

The next morning, we ate our breakfast… And, Yes…we had to pay for it….had our rental car returned to us….and lost no time leaving the city.

Part of the problem….if not most of it….in this visit to New York City lay in the fact that we were simply naive in thinking we could even begin to see anything in one day. Being a complete novice, somehow I had envisioned that we could get off our bus…..spend some time in the Museum of Modern Art….get back on the bus….drive to the Empire State Building….get off….spend some time there…. Etc. But, it simply does not work that way. Because of the traffic, the bus moved at a snail’s pace….and a slow snail, at that. It became obvious that a person does not go anywhere in New York quickly…. At least, not in the parts of the city where we were. Visiting two attractions a day would have been a more realistic goal…. But, we had only one day. The best we could do, if we wanted to “see New York City”, was to stay on the bus and see enough of the city to at least make it sound like we had been there.

If I ever return to either Washington, D.C. or New York City, I will fly into the city, take a cab to my hotel….and plan to stay for a minimum of three or four days. And, I will be prepared to come up with enough cash to stay in a “good” hotel….in a “good” part of town…. I will choose the places I want to visit in advance….and try to make a workable plan to visit them at a semi-leisurely pace. New York….and Washington, D.C…..are expensive cities. I had read it….and I knew it in my brain…. But, there is nothing like hands-on experience to become a true believer. One thing is for sure… Well, maybe a couple things: I will never drive to either of those cities again. I will stay in hotels that are easily accessible to public transportation…and have at least the bare essentials to make living in a hotel room comfortable. And, I will stay for a sufficient length of time to make the trip worthwhile and memorable….in a good sort of way.

 

 

 

Sunday morning, we were on our way out of New York City…..our next destination was Boston…. Our only objective for that day…..other than to drive through the states of Connecticut and Rhode Island, was to arrive in Boston….actually Cambridge….and visit the campus of Harvard University. But, those people are smarter than I gave them credit! They close their campus on Sunday. I mean…. They barricade it. We drove around for probably thirty minutes looking for a gate that was open…..and would admit us to the campus. But….they were all closed…..and locked. It is a private university, so I suppose they can do whatever they want. But, I found it to be rather unusual that their entire campus was inaccessible for an entire day. I am not ruling out the possibility that there was a way to enter the campus…..and we just didn’t find it. Maybe they are merely giving the students an opportunity to rest their brains after a week of heavy studying.

At any rate, after exploring all the possible methods of entrance….and having been rebuffed at each of them….. we headed out toward our campground, several miles outside the city. Nothing remarkable there.

We were eager for the next day….Monday…..to arrive. That was the day we headed for Saco, Maine…..and the Atlantic Coast. We had planned on spending the afternoon on the beach.

Driving in Maine….southern Maine….was an experience. From the time we crossed the border, we never left a town. The names were different….but it seemed to be one continuous metropolitan area….one little town after another. No….it wasn’t like New York City….but, on the other hand, it wasn’t like Kansas, either. Every town was connected to the next town…. The traffic wasn’t particularly heavy, although there was always a continuous flow of vehicles going both directions. I had heard a lot about Maine being a rural, provincial state…..full of quaint villages, inhabited with quaint people, speaking a quaint New England dialect. Maybe we didn’t drive far enough to the north….Saco, Maine, is in southern Maine. At any rate, my perception of Maine was slowly but surely shattered as we drove along.

We knew we had arrived in Saco, Maine…..well, because the sign said we had arrived….and our GPS said we had arrived. So much for the quaint little village….

After we had located our campground, we headed for what we hoped would be a pleasant afternoon on the beach. The ocean…..Old Orchard Beach….was only a couple miles drive from the campground. But…Alas! There was to be no leisurely afternoon walking on the beach.

I have become accustomed to the Oregon Coast…. Miles and miles of deserted beaches…. We could walk for miles in almost any direction on the beautiful sandy beaches, only occasionally meeting another person. We could sit on the sand….or find a huge tree truck that had washed in from the Pacific Ocean….. and listen to the roar of the waves was they washed against the beach. If we wanted a cup of coffee….or something else to eat or drink….there are little towns at regular intervals up and down the coast.

We soon discovered that the beaches of Maine….at least, southern Maine….are a mirror of the towns. For miles….as far as we could see…..they were lined with businesses catering to tourists. Cafes, coffee shops, bars, souvenir stands, t-shirt shops, surf shops….and continuous apartment buildings, apparently available to tourists who wanted to rent them. Even in May….before most schools had dismissed for the summer….the beaches were crowded. There was obviously no such thing as a deserted Maine coast…..

After taking a brief glance at the beach….and immediately realizing that a pleasant afternoon on a clean, deserted beach was another of our fantasies….we headed back to our campground. Me for a nice nap…..and Fayez for his afternoon run.

By this time, I was becoming disillusioned with the entire trip. Except for Washington, D. C. and New York City, we had stopped for nothing… The trip had turned into days of driving….and more driving….. There was very little that I would look back and recall with fond memories….. Only the half day we spent visiting Duty, John and Carla….

Part of the problem was that I neglected to designate specific points of interest….and build them into the schedule. I had depended on making spontaneous visits to historical places of interest as we drove along. I think that had I been traveling with somebody who had a knowledge and appreciation of USA history, this may have worked. But….for somebody who was unfamiliar with our history….and had no prior knowledge of the places and events which made up that history…. Well, it is probably understandable that such a plan would not work.

The advantage I always had with my European guests was that we share so much common history. Our histories and our cultures are intertwined. With the others….and this includes almost everybody: Asians, Africans, Middle Easterners…. The history and culture of our country has largely not affected their history or culture or customs…..

Nevertheless….. We had one more stop that perhaps would be a redeeming factor. And, that stop was Niagara Falls. And… Yes, it was the second…and only other….highlight of the trip. The afternoon we spent at Niagara Falls was fun….and it was instructive. I had not visualized Niagara Falls as being located in an urban setting. Most water falls are found in wilderness areas….typical mountainous areas where the water is free to fall over the side of cliffs into a river or pool below. Niagara Falls, for all practical purposes, is located in the middle of a city!

In keeping with most attractions in the Eastern part of the USA, it is part of a super-commercial tourist complex…..hotels, souvenir shops, restaurants, parking lots. But, it should be pointed out, Niagara Falls is not a national park…. It is a state park, presumably owned by the state of New York. National Parks, which are the property of the “people”…..the federal government….and are relatively free of blatant commercialism. Although, to be sure….there is always a place to buy a souvenir or buy a hamburger.

The Niagara River….the source of the Falls….runs through a well defined park-like setting before crashing over a cliff and continuing its journey below. The Falls are far enough away from the commercial area that it really doesn’t interfere with the drama or beauty or excitement of the Falls themselves…..especially if you have the power to ignore all the towering buildings in the background.

I have seen hundreds of pictures of Niagara Falls….taken from land, taken from boats, taken from the air…. Just by looking at the pictures, I could feel the awe and power of the water as it cascades over the cliff. I could see the mist and the spray filtering outward from the Falls. I could imagine the sound of the water as it plunges downward. I could sense the tremendous power generated by the constant, never-ending pressure of hundred tons….millions of gallons….of water…

Until I was standing there….in person….seeing and hearing…..did I truly understand the genuine authority of the Falls. It was only then that I fully appreciated its scope and beauty. Just like the never-ending waves of the ocean, it is mesmerizing….almost hypnotizing in its magnetic effect and appeal. It is difficult to look away…..

Even before we reached Niagara Falls, people in our campground….in service stations….had tried to sell us tickets to the various “attractions” associated with the park. Without having yet seen the Falls, all of the things they described to us sounded exciting….. But, I am glad we didn’t buy any of them. The only thing really worth paying for….I think….is the water falls itself. Fayez and I bought tickets on the “Maid of the Mist”…..the boat which carries its passengers into the river or lake….or whatever it is called….for a closeup experience with the Falls.

Before boarding the boat…..one of a dozen boats, it appeared…..a person is well advised to slip on the poncho which is handed to you as you board the boat. This poncho is not merely a souvenir. It is absolutely essential, unless you enjoy being drenched….soaked to the bone….by the spray of the water falls. We filed onto the boat, jostling for a place around the outer railing. There were benches to sit on…..but only a few people were sitting on them. Everybody wanted the best view of the water falls……and everybody wanted pictures….

Taking pictures is the main reason most people take the boat ride…. That is reason I did, anyway. And, it is understandable that perhaps tourists want a group picture of sorts. But….some people don’t want just one group photo…. No…. Two pictures of this group. Now…let’s change the group…. Couple pictures of this group, too….. Oh….Let’s get a couple pictures of this combination…. After a while, it becomes annoying….rude….inconsiderate…and unnecessary. And, after a while, I stopped moving aside. I stood my ground….mostly just pretended like I didn’t see them. I am probably in several group pictures….with people asking, “Who is that old white haired man?”

And, the selfies are the worst! People trying to push you aside so they can stick their own cell phone in front of their face to take a dozen pictures. Or a camera mounted on a three-foot pole, poking everybody in the ribs, the back or the face. Yeah, yeah…. Fayez took a couple pictures of me….but, we didn’t push anybody out of their space to take the pictures. Who cares if there are other people in the picture? Come on…. This is Niagara Falls…..and the boat is crowded with tourists.

The Maid of the Mist slowly churns its way toward the Falls. The spray of mist….then water….increases proportionately as the boat gets closer and closer….finally moving parallel to the water falls. Thanks Heavens for the poncho. It is like being caught in a sudden downpour….and it continues until the boat finally begins to pull away from the Falls. Believe me…..he boat trip is interactive! There is a vast difference in looking at the Falls from the serenity of the observation deck…. to almost being a part of it it…. The spray of the water, the roar of the plunging water, the electric excitement of the moving wall of water….the vastness, the breadth and length…..the angry, churning pool as the water crashes into the river below….

Yes…. We had finally found a second reason to make the trip memorable and worthwhile. I don’t recall how much we paid to see Niagara Falls…..but whatever it was…..it was well worth it…. It was the one and only natural attraction that made the trip worthwhile….the only and only natural feature that I will remember about the more than four thousand miles we drove.

Our trip was now essentially ended. We had driven more than 4000 miles….visited 19 states plus Washington, D. C…..had a great visit with some old friends…..spent an afternoon at an awesome natural wonder…..discovered that “all that glitters is not gold” in a couple over-hyped cities. Two great days out of 14 days is not terrible, I suppose. Now….more driving. But, this time our destination was home. Maybe the most welcome sight of the entire trip.

It is March now. The weather is warm and sunny….. Spring still hasn’t officially arrived….but if you don’t look at the calendar, you would never know it. There are still no leaves on the trees….but some of the early spring flower have already begun to bloom.

In Oklahoma City, however, the weather is warmer, there are leaves on the trees….the sun is also shining brightly there. Why not bring some of that sunshine to Kansas for a few days? So….I decided to drive down to Oklahoma City, pick up Sultan, and bring him back to my house for his spring break.

The plan was simple. I would drive down to Oklahoma City, meet him at the McDonald’s where I dropped him off after Christmas break, talk to the lady who owned the house where he was living….and then we would drive back to my house. I left my house fairly early in the morning. I had planned to arrive maybe 30 or 45 minutes early….and use that time to catch up on some text messages….and maybe even make a telephone call.

All you have to do to get to Oklahoma City is get on the Kansas Turnpike….and head south. You can’t miss. The trip was not very exciting. But, driving on an Interstate highway is rarely exciting. I was approaching Oklahoma City…..but I mis-judged the distance. I was much closer than I thought I was. I stopped to go to the rest room at a service station right off the highway.

I was starting to get just a little bit drowsy. I filled a cup with coffee and went to the cash register to pay for it. I reached into my pocket to get some money. The clerk….a young man who couldn’t have been older than his early 20’s…. said, “Is that all you are going to buy?”

I was just a little nervous. Maybe they don’t like for people to stop use their restrooms without buying something of a little more value. Just a little embarrassed, I answered, “Yes……”

“OK….It’s on the house…..”, he said. “Have a good trip.” Maybe he actually thought I had filled up my car with gasoline….or maybe people from Oklahoma are just nice people.

Before leaving, I asked him how far I was from Oklahoma City. Wow….Somehow my calculations were far off the mark. I was almost there! “Oh, good,” I thought. “I will have plenty of time of write the messages.”

But….I checked my cell phone. I had 2 or 3 calls from Sultan. I called him back. Shock! He was already there…at the McDonald’s waiting for me. Something I hadn’t planned on. No messages now…..

I was soon back on the road. And, sure enough, Oklahoma City was just a few miles down the highway. I approached my exit….and as I came within sight of McDonald’s, there was Sultan. He had seen me, too…..and he was waving his arms to attract my attention. As if I need that. This land lady had dropped him off early…..having faith that I would actually show up, I guess. But, we soon loaded his suitcase into my car….and headed back to Kansas….and the Ranch.

Sultan wanted to drive back. And….Why not? It would be getting dark in a couple hours….and then he would have to drive anyway. Time went quickly as we talked. We made one pit stop somewhere on the Kansas Turnpike…..but basically kept driving until we got to Topeka. Sultan was hungry….as usual….so we stopped at a Subway on South Topeka Blvd. There are Subway restaurants all over Topeka…..but this is the largest one I have ever seen…. Not only in Kansas….but anywhere in the USA. But, we didn’t linger long…. We were eager to get back home.

Fridays are almost leisurely days….even when I am at home alone. On both of the Fridays that Sultan spent with me, we ate lunch with our friend, Sam. Sam is a friend of mine….dating back more than 50 years to the days we spent working for the International Voluntary Services in South Vietnam. One day while I was looking through names and addresses of IVS alumni, I came across Sam’s name. Wow…. He lives in Topeka. I didn’t know that. I wonder how long he has been there? Was it the same Sam that I had known? Surely it had to be. I immediately sent him a message….along with a picture that was taken back in those days when we were actually young. I got a quick response. Sure enough…..it was he. And, he even remembered me!

I was still working back in those days…..and so was he. We made an appointment to meet somewhere in Lawrence on a Saturday….a place called “Wheatfields”, I think. We ate in Lawrence a couple times…..I am not sure why. But, it didn’t take very long before we realized that simply eating in Topeka would be much more convenient and time effective. The first lunch was maybe 20 years ago….. I am not sure. I was still working, at least. And, it a tradition that has pretty much remained constant until even today.

Sultan spent two Fridays at my house. The first Friday, we went to the China Pavilion. This is one of our regular eating places on what turned out to be a 4 week rotation. China Pavilion has arguably the best Chinese food in Topeka. It is an economical buffet….one of those places where we can sit and talk….and not worry about wearing out our welcome. We go there often enough that the people who own the restaurant know us….and we always receive good service. This is usually one of the places that Sam chooses when it is his turn to select.

The other Friday that Sultan was here, we ate at the Billard Cafe….at the Billard Airport. This was my choice….and it has become a regular eating place. We pretty much stick to our regular restaurants: The Golden Corral, The China Pavilion, the Billard Airport Cafe and the Globe Restaurant. It is a good variety of cuisines…..American, Indian and Chinese. The Billard Cafe seems to be run by one family….and a friendly family, at that. We are always made to feel welcome when we eat there. As are the other restaurants….this one, too, is a buffet. The food is definitely American. The selection of food is rather limited…..but it is delicious and well prepared.

Not only is the food good….but there is also the novelty of sitting in the large dining room and watching private airplanes take off and land. Well….I suppose it really isn’t that exciting….but it is something that you can’t do in one of the downtown restaurants….at least, you had better hope not.

Sultan also prepared another of his delicious, creative meals over an open fire. As usual, the main ingredients were chicken…..a variety of vegetables…..and the inevitable rice. All of his gastronomic creations usually contain chicken. But, that is only because goat meat is not readily available in this area. Actually, one time Fayez and I did find a place that sells goat meat…. But, it was expensive…and full of bones. It was not, Fayez informed me, the kind of goat meat that is sold in Saudi Arabia. So….we are quite content to settle for chicken.

Sunday lunch, as usual, was reserved for the Aladdin Restaurant in Lawrence. The last time Sultan and I ate there was during the Christmas break….in the middle of the winter. It was a rather cold day. I am sure I could have handled the cold….but Sultan is a boy from the desert…..and he would much rather endure 100 degree temperatures than be exposed to freezing temperatures. However, this Sunday afternoon in mid-March the weather was perfect….sunshine, temperatures in the mid-70s. Even somebody from Saudi Arabia couldn’t complain about it.

After we finished eating lunch, we drove to the Kansas University campus….the home of the Jayhawks. A person cannot help but feel inspired when walking around the campus, soaking up the long, illustrious and storied atmosphere of this venerable institution of advanced learning….. Also, one is enveloped by the mystical legend of Kansas basketball, Allen Fieldhouse….Home of the Jayhawks. This is where college basketball originated….for all practical purposes….and the spirits of James Naismith and Phog Allen are still alive.

But….it was Spring Break….and it was Sunday. Not a good combination. Allen Fieldhouse was closed….as well as the Jayhawk museum….and other associated buildings.

Since it was such a beautiful day, a walk down Jayhawk Blvd. seemed appropriate. We parked our car in the parking lot across from the east entrance to the Student Union Building…..right next to the school of religion. We strolled along Jayhawk Blvd. and I pointed out some of the various building….especially the buildings where I had classes when I was working on my Masters Degree in counseling back in the late 60’s and early 70’s.

 

 

 

 

The campus was virtually deserted. A few people, like Sultan and I, wandered about aimlessly….just enjoying the stately, but relaxing, atmosphere of the campus….with its mixture of sleek modern buildings mixed in among the mostly old, historic structures. It was still mid-March, so there were no leaves on the trees yet….but many of the early flowering trees and shrubs were in full blossom….the dogwood trees, the red bud trees…. As we strolled down Jayhawk Blvd., it was easy to feel that spring was indeed in the air.

After I had pointed out some of the well known buildings that lined the Boulevard…Bailey Hall, Frazier Hall, Strong Hall, Hoch Auditorium…. We walked back to the car across from the Kansas Union. I showed him what is probably the most striking sight on the campus…..the Bell Tower and Memorial Stadium. The Bell Tower, a memorial to the veterans of World War I, is difficult to photograph with people in the picture. Basically, there are two choices….both more or less unfavorable…. You can take a vertical shot….in which the person looks like a midget. The other choice is to take a traditional horizontal shot….and cut off the top half of the Tower. Memorial Stadium, on the other hand, makes a great picture. It is far enough away that it was easy to include Sultan….and the entire stadium. Actually, the pictures of the stadium usually turn out much better than the K. U. football teams that plays in the stadium. But….unless absolutely necessary, we don’t bring up that matter for discussion.

Sultan was suitably impressed by the campus…..I think. Impressed enough to enroll there someday, I hope. However, we skipped the tour of the West Campus…where most of his classes in engineering and science are taught. And, those are probably the courses in which Sultan will be most likely to enroll.

 

 

 

 

But….enough was enough. Sultan was getting tired. Or maybe it was I who was getting tired…. We drove to the Ranch. I took a nap….. Sultan took the golf clubs and practiced teeing off while I rested from the excitement of visiting my alma mater again.

The next day, Monday, March 14, we embarked on a journey to Sam’s farm. What made this trip so special was that it was the first time I personally drove the car. On previous trips, either Fayez or Oliver drove. Usually when somebody else volunteers to drive….I hand them them keys and say, “Gentleman…. Start your engine.”

 

 

 

 

 

The trip got off to a rather foggy start….. Yes…literally. The fog was so thick that visibility was only a few feet. I have driven to Lawrence hundreds of times over the years… I mean, I attended K. U.; I had season basketball tickets for thirty years; I shop and eat there. But….somewhere along the way, I became aware that I had no idea where I was. Remember in the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy said, “I don’t think we are in Kansas any more.” Well….that was sort of the way I felt. It was not only a little bit scary….but a little surreal. How is it possible to get lost driving to Lawrence? I don’t know the answer to that question? Drive while you are high? Drive in your sleep? Or…..maybe….drive in the fog? Being reasonably intelligent (I mean, after all…I did graduate from from K. U.)….I turned the car around and retraced our path. It is only logical that if you retrace your path….you are going to end up where you started from. This is what happened in our situation. I recognized my mistake….Darned fog….and we were finally on the right road…..heading toward Lawrence.

With a little help from our “friend”…the GPS….we found Sam’s farm. Sam was already there. After the normal small talk, we walked out back of Sam’s barn to look at some trees. Of course, I had already seen them before. But, this was Sultan’s first time at Sam’s farm. When Sam suggested that we walk down a hill to look at some other work he had done…. my sense of self-preservation kicked in. Walking down hills is pretty easy…… A problem arises, however, when it is time to walk back up the hill. I figured this would give Sam an opportunity to explain the details of planting and growing trees to Sultan. And, it would give Sultan a chance to ask Sam any questions he might have about the operation.

So….as Sam and Sultan disappeared into the distance, I contented myself by taking pictures of the several rows of new chestnut and pecan trees growing in the distance…..and exploring the area around the large machine shed. Sam has an address sign now…. Ah, ha….a photo opportunity. There is a small private cemetery adjacent to Sam’s property…. Many of the graves are more than 100 years old. Another photo opportunity. After the options for taking pictures were quickly exhausted, I turned my attention of answering text messages. My fingers are simply too big to accurately type on the small keyboard of the Smart Phone. I have to use a stylus. And, that….for me….is time consuming. I was only about a third finished with writing the messages when I looked up…..and there were Sam and Sultan….already returned from their exploratory walk.

 

 

 

 

Sam always provides a delicious lunch….so the interruption was not entire unwelcome. After lunch was consumed, we drove to a field west of the machine shed….which is sort of the “headquarters” for the farm right now. This part of the property is separated by a stream…..a stream with no bridge. Fayez and I suggested long ago that a new bridge would be a welcome convenience to speed up “commute time”….but thus far….No Bridge. Anyway……This field is here Sam has grafted several trees. Again….since I have already observed the procedure….and since this would be the 1st time Sultan had observed the grafting process…. (He has a more scientific mind than I do…. ) but…mostly because I simply did not feel like walking….Sam and Sultan took off walking again…to the field where the trees were being grafted….while I stayed at the car to wait.. We had driven both of our vehicles…. Because we were going to head back home after Sultan had seen the grafted trees.

After taking a few pictures, I resumed writing text messages….one letter at time with my stylus. Actually, I was hoping Sultan might be gone for 30 or 45 minutes. And, maybe he was… But, as always….time goes fast when you are occupied….and before I knew it, there was Sam and Sultan heading back toward the car.

As always, the time we spent at Sam’s farm was a pleasant few hours. I don’t know very much about planting and growing trees…. But I do know that the farm is located in a quiet and beautiful setting….mature trees, flowers left from previous owners, rolling hills, a meandering creek….and even a cemetery next door…..a perfect location for a country residence….or a golf course.

The visit to Sam’s farm was the “educational” (as well as pleasure) part of Sultan’s sojourn at my house. Normally, we just do….stuff. The days just sort of flow by….nothing very “heavy” or serious….doing this and that….whatever happens to come to mind. That is…whatever happens to come to mind in between the events that are scheduled and planned….like the trip to Sam’s farm, for example.

 

 

 

 

One thing that Sultan did NOT to during this visit was…run. Sometimes I get the impression that Sultan does not like to run as much as I thought he did. I am not so sure why he didn’t run during the eight full days he was here. Yeah….part of that time we were gone….away from home. The other days…..I am still somewhat puzzled. During the Christmas visit, he ran the four miles Ferguson Road course to get his Ferguson Road t-shirt….a shirt that he claims to cherish! On this visit….well, he never ran even one step.

But….nothing could keep him away from the fitness center. That was one place where is always wanted to go. Sultan is an avid workout enthusiast. He almost never refuses an opportunity to go to the fitness center…..day or night. And, in our case, it was mostly at night. He has his workout routine fairly well refined….and defined. Before he goes, he can always tell me almost exactly what he intends to accomplish…. What muscle group he will concentrate on….how many reps….which machines he will use.

So needless to say, we spent a few nights at the fitness center. For the most part, he works independently. I do my thing….such as it is….mostly arm and shoulder weights…and he does his thing….whatever he has chosen for that particular session. Whenever he needs a “spotter”, I am always willing to help him. Otherwise, he quietly and efficiently goes about his business. Always, however, flashing me one of his trademark smiles on frequent occasions. And….let me add…. We….or more accurately….I…learned my lesson. If it appears that anybody “official” or anybody who works there is around…..I immediately put $5.00 into the collection box!

The final “big event” of Sultan’s holiday at my house was a trip to Farmington, Arkansas, to visit Dorothy….one of my two living first cousins. I try to make sure that I take all of my foreign guests down to meet her. She is now 91 years old. But, don’t let that fool you. She is still sharp as a tack (as the cliché goes). Her memory is far superior to mine….and I am not exactly young anymore. She still drives her car. She still does her own housework….fixes her own meals….and all that good stuff. In other words, she is far from being a helpless little old lady!

Anyway, she (and my cousin Raymond) always seemed to genuinely enjoy meeting my guests. Fayez had already had the pleasure of meeting her…..and, she loved him!

Thus….we planned a trip to Farmington. It was only a two day trip. Down one day…back the next. I booked a motel room in Carthage, MO, for Wednesday night….less than a couple hours from Farmington. We would stay there overnight and arrive at Dorothy’s house around mid-morning. That would give us enough time to visit….and to eat the delicious meal she was sure to have made for us. If we left her house by 2:00, we could comfortably be home before dark.

It was to be a routine trip. All the plans had been made. But, first, I had a doctor’s appointment in Topeka. I figured that would not take very long. Actually, the appointment, I am sure, was primarily so the doctor could collect his money from my insurance company…..and very little to do with me. We packed our stuff into the car….and took off for Topeka. From Topeka, we would head south on US 75, cut across to Ft. Scott, then Nevada….and finally to Carthage where we would spend the night.

As fate would have it….and I suppose it was lucky fate this time….I decided to stop and fill the car with gasoline before I went to the doctor’s office. When we left the doctor’s office, we could immediately head south on US 75. As usual, I stopped at a service station in North Topeka to fill up. With the tank filled with gasoline, I got back into the car, turned on the key….. And…Nothing Happened! Not even a faint “click”.
This had happened before….actually at least two times before. One time in the mid-winter, I had just finished walking at Lake Shawnee and heading off to do the shopping. Tired and exhausted, I turned the key….And…Nothing. I called AAA. It would be more than an hour before the service truck arrived…..and the sun was giving hints of setting in the West. Being stranded at Lake Shawnee at night is probably not a desirable thing to happen.

A Deputy Sheriff stopped and asked if I was having a problem. “Call us next time,” he said. “We can probably help….and it will save one of your visits from AAA.” Nice to know….but a little late to find out…today, at least. The guy from the auto club arrived, quickly diagnosed the problem….installed a new connector to for the battery cable….and pronounced it “cured”. So much for that.

The second time I experienced this problem was at the exact spot where I was sitting…same station….same pump….same problem. I recognized the problem immediately. That wasn’t much comfort….but at least, I knew what was happening.

I called AAA again. As usual, explaining the exact location is a lengthy and sometimes frustrating ordeal. The agents who accept these service calls are definitely NOT from the Topeka area. I can almost visualize them sitting somewhere in India or Mexico…..puzzling over Google Maps….trying to figure out the various locations. Both of the locations in Topeka are in very obvious, highly recognizable areas. I mean….the west side of Lake Shawnee by the boathouse? A service station at the intersection of US 24 and North Topeka Blvd.? How much more obvious can a place be? Anyway, it turned out that the locations were not so obvious to the individuals I was talking to. At least she knew there was such a place as Topeka, Kansas.

It was too late to go to the doctor’s office. I called them, hoping they would understand my situation….and not charge me for an office call. They did. Anybody who thinks joining the auto club is a waste of money has certainly not lived my life…..with my cars. It has been so useful that I upgraded my membership. Many automobile insurance policies include some sort of roadside assistance. Maybe they are just as good as AAA. I don’t know…..if I have never tried them. But, AAA is uniquely set up to handle such “emergencies” and distress calls quickly…..and efficiently…..and politely.

Of course, I was blocking a gas pump. It certainly was not my fault….and there was little I could do except wait until the service truck arrived. The representative classified my situation as a “top priority” since she understood the gas station was no doubt losing money because I was blocking one of their pumps. In about 30 minutes we saw a truck with the familiar AAA painted on its side. Again, it did not take very long for the guy to figure out the problem. He installed a new connector…..just like the guy at Lake Shawnee did….I think. But…. He also told us that we should take the car to a mechanic and find a permanent solution. With the trip on the line….and with the doctor’s appointment duly canceled, we decided to drive back to my mechanic at the junction of K-4 and K-92. They messed with it for a while…. We were in the waiting room, so I have no idea what they did….. But, finally, the service manager told us that he thought is was safe to start off on our trip….. But…..that we should bring the car back as soon as we returned.

So we happily…..albeit nervously….departed on our journey to Arkansas. Now that we were no longer in Topeka, we had to settle for the perhaps shorter….but more complicated….route. But, the with our programming ingenuity, we avoided Kansas City….and took a more rural, less busy route into Missouri where we got onto I-49 and headed to our overnight stop in Carthage.

With the assistance of the GPS, we had no problem finding our motel. I parked the car, and we went inside to register. After registering, we returned to the car to go to our room. And….Surprise, Surprise! The car wouldn’t start. We opened the hood of the car…. Why? I am not really sure. Isn’t this what everybody does when their car won’t start? I was preparing to call the AAA…again….when a very large black man emerged from the motel room directly in front of our parked car. He was a rather intimidating looking guy…. I was hoping that we were not parked in what he might think was “his” parking spot. But, he immediately walked over to us and asked if we were having a problem. I explained the problem. He asked if we had a hammar. Fortunately, we did. While, I turned the key, he tapped something under the hood of the car. The car started immediately! He must have been a former mechanic….or, more than likely, he just knew more about cars than I did! Anyway, he showed us how to lightly hit the battery connection. “It will work every time,” he said.

Despite my prior request, we had been assigned to a 2nd story room. That would be acceptable….except the motel had no elevator. There were no rooms available on the ground floor…..so we had little choice but to carry our bags up to the 2nd floor. This was no problem for Sultan….. But, for me….it was a struggle….and I was not happy. On top of that, one of the lamps did not work…..and we practically had to use a flashlight to see our way around the room!

A day or two later, I received the normal questionnaire in my e-mail, asking me to rate the motel. I normally ignore these surveys, or I respond to these questionnaires in a perfunctory manner…. But, this time, the unpleasant experience was still rather fresh in my mind. I gave the motel an overall good review…. But, I also very aggressively described how unhappy I had been with both the failure to be placed in a ground floor room….and also about the lighting.

Did you know that motel managers sometimes actually read these reviews? I certainly did not. I figured they are a lot like the little survey I get from the doctors after each visit….. They make it looks like they are concerned about my feelings and my impressions and my suggestions. Actually, I think they are really a public relations ploy. Nobody actually reads them….or really cares what you think. But….Wow! A couple days later, I received an e-mail message from the manager of the motel apologizing for my unfortunate experience…..and telling me that the next time I stay there….Yeah, right!….he will personally guarantee that I will be assigned to a ground floor room…..and that it will be inspected and in perfect order when I arrive.

They did have a good breakfast, though! But….the car? I probably don’t even have to tell you…..do I? But….we remembered the advice of the guy from the afternoon before. “It will work every time…..” And, sure enough….it did. It is rather embarrassing to have to open the hood of the car and hit the battery cable every time we wanted to start the car. How much more Hillbilly….or Redneck….can a person appear? But….it wasn’t like we had another choice. And, after all….we were in Southern Missouri! “When in Rome……”

We headed on to Dorothy’s house….past the vast retirement villages and golf courses that line I-49 for miles in northern Arkansas. Retirement villages that are far too expensive for my budget…..

We arrived at Dorothy’s house around 11:00 or so…. They….Dorothy and her daughter, my 2nd cousin….were happy to see us….and made us feel at home immediately. There are always a lot of interesting things to look at in Dorothy’s house….or in this case, her apartment. Pictures painted by Raymond, my cousin….family photos….mementos accumulated throughout her long life….handmade craft items made by them and their family….. And, of course, Dorothy had many stories to tell to Sultan….about her early life….about places they had lived….about their jobs…..about their family…..

These were all stories I had heard previously…. But, to Sultan, they were new….and interesting….and I think, fascinating….

We were on a rather tight schedule….our time was limited…. Lunch was soon served. Oh, Wow! I had neglected to tell Dorothy that Sultan is a Muslim…. Looking back over prior visits, we were always served chicken….or hamburgers….. Always a rather “picnic” style lunch. Dorothy has even gone so far as submitting a series of menus to me before our visits, so I can choose the most “heart healthy” diet.

This year….again, Wow! The unexpected happened. She had prepared ham sandwiches! A look of shock and confusion covered Sultan’s face when he saw what was being placed on the table. I very quickly….and in the nicest way possible….said, “Oh…Sultan can’t eat pork.”

Dorothy was embarrassed…..apologetic…. It never occurred to her that Sultan could not eat pork…. But, as always, Sultan was very gracious and very accepting of the mistake. The cheese slices that were being served were plenty thick enough to make a sandwich in their own right. Sultan was perfectly contented to dine on cheese, lettuce and tomato sandwiches…. Along with whatever else was served that noon. The crisis was averted….Sultan was content eating his lunch….everything the rest of us ate…minus the ham. It worked out well…. I am sure I ate Sultan’s share of ham….along with more than my share of cheese.

Lunch was delicious…. Pictures were taken….. It was time to head back home. We had a four and a half hour drive ahead of us. So around 2:00, we said our good-byes….and hit the road.

This was the final “big event” of Sultan’s visit. I suppose all good things eventually come to an end. The next day….Friday….was a busy day. We were up early….our bags already packed and ready to go. The end of our day’s activity would take us to Hutchinson, where Fayez would pick up Sultan and take him back to Oklahoma City.

But, first…..there was the little matter of the battery cable. We arrived at the mechanic early. They quickly replaced the battery cable….and maybe even the terminal. One really never knows what mechanics do. You just try to have faith that they are telling your the truth! And, in my case….I trust them. Next we headed to Holton to drop off the computer at the computer repair shop. I would leave it there over the weekend and pick it up on Monday when I returned home.

Then we got on US 75 and drove to Topeka. We met Sam at the Billard Airport Cafe….one of our regular eating places in the monthly rotation. It turned out well, because, as I said previously, Sultan had never been there before…..and it would be a new and, hopefully, unique eating experience for him. Even though Billard Airport is only for privately owned small airplanes……no big passenger jets here……it is a pleasant place to sit and eat and watch the occasional light aircraft take off or land. And….the food isn’t so bad, either. It is served buffet style…..and it an all-you-can-eat type of place. The choices of food are somewhat limited…..but it is well prepared and delicious. It is also a place where we can sit and carry on a conversation without any fear of glaring eyes warning us to finish our food….and get out. But…..we were rather in a hurry…..so we didn’t linger any longer than was necessary to be polite.

We were on our way to Hutchinson…..about three hours from Topeka. We checked into our room at the Atrium Motel. Since we had a couple hours before it would be time to eat…..I did what I always do up on arriving at a motel: I took a nap. And….strangely enough….I think Sultan also took a nap. Maybe all the fun and frivolity of the past week had worn him out. Or…..maybe he was simply tired because he got up early that morning.

After eating our supper at the Sirloin Stockade….about a block away on 17th Street….we returned to the motel and sat in the bar…..the Grand Slam…..talked for a while…..went back to the room….and went to bed.

Fayez arrived around 10:00 the next morning…. Without any ceremony, we loaded Sultan’s stuff into the trunk of the car….. and, off the drove into the proverbial sunset.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah….. We worked some….and we played some. But, that only tells part of the story of Sultan’s three week stay during the Christmas Break.

Christmastime on the Ranch

This was Sultan’s first ever Christmas. And, I can imagine that he was just as puzzled and bewildered about the holiday….and all its traditions and festivities….as I would be if I were to spend Ramadan in Saudi Arabia. Since I actively participate in most of these traditions and festivities….Sultan would have a first hand and intimate view of many of them. Since Christianity is a very welcoming and embracing….not to mention non-threatening….religion, Sultan was gladly accepted and included in the entire celebration of the season.

Almost unwittingly on my part, Sultan began his Christmas season experience almost immediately after he arrived. On or about the first day of December, I begin to listen almost exclusively to Christmas music. Christmas music is among my very favorite music. I could listen to it all year long, with absolutely no hint of boredom. Well….I say that, although I have never tried it. But, it is, in fact, music that I like very much. In the beginning, I am not sure Sultan even knew that it was Christmas music….although I am sure I told him at some point. He must have suspected, however. I am pretty sure that he never mistook it for rock and roll.

The Saturday before Christmas, we went to the mall. I didn’t want to buy anything….I just wanted him to see Santa Claus….in person. It is a sad fact of life that Santa, too, only works during regular business hours. He probably belongs to a Santa Claus union. At any rate, by the time we arrived at the mall….somewhere around 5:30 probably…..he had already packed up and gone home for the evening…..no doubt, all the way back to the North Pole. So….no real-life Santa. Oh well….maybe Sultan is a bit too old to believe in Santa Claus. (Although I was going to do my best to convince Sultan that he is real. Every kid needs to believe in Santa Claus….for a day, at least.)

Another of the rituals of the Christmas Season is the ubiquitous school Christmas program. Of course, they aren’t called Christmas programs any longer because they are part of the public schools….and because it seems to offend some narrow minded non-believers….(And probably not so much offends them as it does give them a chance to cause trouble.)…..and because our Constitution clearly separates Church and State….. Now they are called Winter Programs or something like that. But…let’s face it….they are Christmas programs.

During the twenty or so years that I taught in junior high school and elementary school, attending these programs….whatever they happened to be called at the time….was a “command performance”. In other words….I had no choice. That was deemed to be part of my job. So, with few other choices, I endured probably a total of twenty of these affairs. I doubt if you will find a lot of teachers who will use the word “enjoyed”…..because they are basically an ordeal. Herding the kids to the gym for practice….trying to maintain some sort of order while the young, restless, bored students sat through endless rehearsals until they “got it right”. And….in the end, the parents don’t know what is right….or what is wrong….and they couldn’t care less. They are only enthralled in seeing their little angel performing in front of an audience.

When I left classroom teaching and became the school counselor, one of the biggest perks was that I no longer had to go to the Christmas Programs…..and I didn’t. I did go to the high school program the year Oliver lived with me, because Oliver was in the high school band.

I never went to a program again until 2012, the first time Fayez stayed at my house. During the Christmas break of 2012 – 2013, Fayez and another student….a guy from China….stayed at my house. As part of my “cultural education” program, I decided that they might enjoy the program. Before the first song was completed, the Chinese kid had already fallen asleep. Yeah….I mean he had fallen sound asleep. Since he was sitting on the far side of Fayez, I couldn’t nudge him back awake. And, he was sleeping so gracefully, that we just let him sleep. He finally woke up when the program ended and everybody stood up to leave. I have to give Fayez some credit: He stayed awake for the entire program….even though he didn’t understand a single word that was being sung.

The second time I took Fayez, we went to the elementary school program. The program went on interminably. I fully expected to see the sun rising in the east when it finally came to an end….and we had to fight the crowd as they all rushed for the door. This Christmas, however, things seemed to be a little more under control. For one thing, Sultan and I went to the high school program….not the grade school program…. And, at least, the high school kids seem to be able to walk to and from the risers by themselves without a lot of adult supervision. The main problem this year was that the entire audience was seated in the bleachers….bleachers with no backs on them. Normally, rows of chairs are set up on the gym floor…..and if one gets there early enough, at least he has a back on his chair. When the program was over….and it was actually over in a reasonable amount of time….although no less boring than the programs that preceded it in years past….I was afraid I would not be able to stand up….let alone walk to the car. But, with Sultan’s help, I accomplished both of these tasks. When we reached the car, I asked Sultan what he thought. He just smiled. I don’t know if it was a smile of appreciation or a smile of relief that it was finally over.

About a week before Christmas we put up our Christmas trees. I don’t want to make this seems more impressive than it really was, though. I have two little Christmas trees, each about two feet tall…..artificial, of course. They are already fully decorated….stored away in plastic trash bags. Each Christmas….when I have guests around….we get the two trash bags out of the closet….take out the trees….set them on tables….and plug them in. This is how we put up our Christmas tree. Actually, it isn’t a very sentimental or nostalgic occasion. The entire operation from walking to the closet in the back bedroom to plugging the cord into an electrical outlet takes maybe five minutes. It is sort of instant Christmas decorating. However, as was the case with Fayez the first time he stayed here during the Christmas season, this was also the first time Sultan had seen a real Christmas tree…. He won’t have the nostalgic memory of adorning the tree with icicles and ornaments and roping….. We didn’t set out any cookies and milk on Christmas Eve….or hang any stockings (although I had considered that possibility)….. Santa Claus would have to go on a diet that night….

On Christmas Eve, my church…the First United Methodist Church in Topeka….always holds a service which starts at 11:00 P.M. and ends at the stroke of Midnight…..the start of Christmas Day. It is probably one of the few times that the church is packed…the other holiday being Easter Sunday. The service follows a traditional pattern of lessons and carols. In keeping with the Methodist custom, there is an abundance of music….much of it sang by the congregation. The service ends with the singing of Silent Night. The sanctuary is darkened, and one by one candles are lit by passing the flame down pew person to person. At the conclusion of the song, the lights are turned on, and the people go out into the Christmas night with the playing of Joy to the World by the pipe organ…..and bells chiming into the night air on the outside.

Here again…..I doubt if Sultan understood much of what was happening….but he did enjoy the beautiful Christmas hymns. And, I think he may have been just a little impressed by the candle lighting ceremony.

For me, one of my post-Christmas service rituals is to drive down Wanamaker Street…arguably the busiest street in Topeka….before returning home. I am sure this is the only night of the year when this street is eerily void of traffic… “Not a person was stirring….not even a mouse.”

Christmas Day dawned dark, dreary and rainy. Sort of a miserable day. I played Santa Claus and gave Sultan his Christmas gift. Again….I am not really sure he understood why he was getting a gift. But, I explained to him the best I could that it is a custom to give gifts at Christmas time. Of course, I did not receive a gift from Sultan. He had no clue about this tradition. Maybe next year he will remember….right, Sultan? Anyway, just having Sultan visit was a sufficient gift for me.

For the past several years, I have eaten Christmas Dinner….Christmas lunch, actually….at my friend Sam’s house. A I have said on previous occasions, eating at Sam’s house is always a culinary adventure. Both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners are “traditional” insofar as the food served. There is almost always chicken or turkey, potatoes, salad, vegetables….. But, what is different is the unique manner in which they are prepared. There is always a new twist….a secret ingredient….or two…or three. Who knows? Maybe these are the original ingredients that the Pilgrim mothers used in those first mythical Thanksgiving meals. Perhaps the first settlers brought these spices or herbs with them…..or maybe the Indian women passed on the secret over a cup of English tea. Whatever…. But I can bet that the Indians liked the food so much they kept showing up on a regular basis for more. They would have if they had eaten at Sam’s.

I am always pleased to note that Sam uses the same coffee that I do….the kind that comes in the little individual tubes. And….for the few people who do not already know…. In the words of Richard Nixon, “I am not a cook!”

We can’t leave Christmas dinner at Sam’s without mentioning the cookies. Those delicious chocolate chip cookies….with an ample supply of pecans thrown in. They are the first thing we spot as we walk into his apartment…..and when we leave, we are carrying them home with us is a plastic bag… A gift from Sam, of course.

On a nice Christmas Day, before we headed back for the ranch, we would go for a short walk at Lake Shawnee or perhaps the Governor’s Mansion. But this year when it was time to leave, the rain was still pouring down steadily….so we just went home…..Full and content.

The high point of any Christmas season is always the events and activities that we so closely associate with the holiday. “Jesus is the reason…..” The Gold Medal.

On the Road Again…….

Winning the silver medal this year, was the trip Sultan and I took to my hometown…and the haunts of my youth…..Lyons, Sterling and Hutchinson. Both Sultan and I agree that this was a memorable and fun trip. I always think it is fun to show my guests where I lived….grew up….went to high school….to college… The site of my first job….where I hung out on weekends…. But I always run the risk that visiting these places is going to be a lot more fun and interesting for me than it will be for whomever is with me.

Our first stop was Lyons. Actually none of places of my childhood are still standing. The house we lived in is long gone….and the land has been developed into an entire neighborhood. My old grade school still has the same name….but it has disappeared in favor of a modern building. The junior high school building burned down years ago….and only a vacant lot stands were it used to be. The movie theater, the Duckwalls Store, the malt shop….all ancient history now. The library where I checked out all the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books has been converted into a museum. Of course, the court house is still standing in the center of the square…slightly refurbished, but still standing. The town is still “Lyons”….but not the same Lyons I in which I grew up several decades ago.

 

 

 

The same situation is true of Sterling….my co-home town. The house where we lived on West Washington is gone….and the large lot we owned has been subdivided and has several new buildings. The hospital, which was almost directly across the street from us, was long ago converted into the art department for Sterling College. The ancient high school building that I attended my freshman thru junior years is now the site of the United Presbyterian Church…..the church I used to attend during my college years. Even the high school where I graduated is only a shadow of itself. Only the front facade is recognizable….the building have been expanded several times over the years.

Sterling College is still there, of course. But, it, too, has been expanded. Most of the old original buildings where I had classes have been re purposed….new buildings have been added. Downtown is no longer the quaint collection of storefronts, but has been transformed into a more modern, sleek little town. The original Dillon store where I worked all through high school and college has been closed and a modern store has been built across the street, built in the modern “Dillon” style. I have always thought it was a shame for Dillon’s to so consciously and willingly destroy a significant piece of their history. But….Dillon’s is not a charitable organization…. It is a business intent on making money.

Sterling Lake is still there. At least, it hasn’t been filled in to make room for “progress”. Sterling Lake was our hangout during the long hot summers….. A spot where one could go swimming….or have a picnic….or go for a stroll…. It was the site where the big Fourth of July celebrations were held….. And, it still is. Improvements have been made over the years….amenities added…. A walking path that circles the lake has been constructed….. But, it is still Sterling Lake. Sterling Lake was memorialized back in 1955 when Hollywood came to town. The award winning movie “Picnic” was partially filmed there, using the lake as a backdrop. Kim Novack, Rosiland Russel, William Holden all came to town and dazzled us local yokals with their glamor for a few days. A few lucky residents even appeared in some of the beach scenes….. Although I was not one of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our final destination for the day, however, was Hutchinson. Hutchinson was our “big city”…..our “Topeka”…..when I was growing up. I has also changed remarkably. But, the changes are simply too overwhelming to even start on.

And….anyway, it wasn’t one of my hometowns….only our shopping and entertainment capital. I did, however, teach in Hutchinson for a year and a half back in 1961-1962. I had resigned from my job as teacher at Fairplay School up north of Lyons after one year because the selective service was breathing down my back….and I expected an imminent, urgent invitation from them to join their little social organization….called the U.S. Army. The summons had not arrived by mid-summer. The job at Prosperity School became available. I do not remember how I found about the job…..but I did. I applied for the position….and they hired me.

My job was to teach seventh and eights grades…..coach track, coach softball, and coach basketball. Actually, this job was a big step upward from the job at Fairplay. I only had to prepares lessons for two grades….not four grades. That more or less cut down my daily preparations from twenty-four preparations to ONLY twelve preparations. Plus the fact there were three other teachers to talk to….two rather full time cooks….a custodian…and a part-time music teacher. Plus….It was located just a couple miles north of Hutchinson in a suburban setting…..and not eight miles out in the boondocks.

During the year and a half that I taught at Prosperity School, I lived in three different places….all of which were in very cramped quarters. But, at least, I didn’t have to drive twenty miles to work each morning. Today, when I look for these three houses……I cannot remember where even one of them is (or was) located. It is just as well, I suppose. I do recall, however, that the second house I lived in was quite near the home of Ray Dillon…..then the president of the Dillon corporation.

So far, it had not been a very exciting trip. Maybe things would pick up a bit in Hutchinson. They did….I suppose. We approached Hutch from the north, driving south on Plum Street. We passed by Prosperity School…..now located well within the populated area of the city. When the comprehensive school consolidation took place in the mid-1960’s, Prosperity School became part of the Buhler school district….not the Hutchinson school district. It has long since closed….as part of cost cutting measures taken by the school district, I suppose. There is a For Sale sign posted in front of the building. It has been sitting vacant since it was closed…..just waiting for a buyer, I suppose.

We checked into the Days Inn Motel….located between 11^th and 17^th Streets. After eating supper at a buffet across 17^th Street, we spent the remainder of the evening at the Grand Slam Bar…..located in the motel next door to ours. It was still basketball season, and we watched K.U. play…somebody….as we sat and talked.

Wednesday morning, December 23^rd, we ate breakfast and then drove to our first major tourist destination in Hutchinson……Strataca….The Kansas Underground Salt Museum. The museum is located in a portion of what used to be the old Carey Salt Mine. It is abandoned now….all the salt having been removed from it…..leaving vast underground caverns made entirely of salt. Salt walls, salt ceiling, salt floors…. In fact, everywhere you look….there is salt. Of course, there is no vegetation anywhere to be seen. The city of Hutchinson…..or some enterprising organization…..has converted a huge area into a museum. One thing we can be sure of…..there is no lack of space for the exhibits. There are several exhibits of the geology, the chemistry and the uses of the salt…..

Everybody was loaded onto a train….and we set off to explore the mine. Aside from the scientific explanations….and there are plenty of them….there are abundant displays of the machinery that is used….or has been used….in the extraction of the salt. The mining of salt is a laborious job…..not to mention dangerous. Charges of dynamite are used to free the salt from the walls. This task is accomplished at the end of the work day by highly trained and skilled workers. By the time the workers arrive at work following morning, the dust has settled….and the salt is ready to be transported to the processing phase….where the salt is transformed into a usable form.

All of the machinery and all of the vehicles which have ever been used in the salt mine are still in the salt mine. Once they are taken down into the mine…..they never return to sunshine. The big machinery is partially or completely dismantled in order to fit onto the elevators descending into the mine where they are reassembled. It is far too expensive and unprofitable to repeat the process to return them to the top of the mine. They are used until they are no longer serviceable….and then stashed somewhere in an empty part of the mine.

While all the technical exhibits are interesting and informative….and I do not even begin to claim I have a mechanical or scientific mind…..the exhibits that I found to be the most fascinating where the commercial items which are stored in the mine. Since the temperature remain constant at around 65 degrees….and there is virtually no humidity….and since it is fireproof…. it provides an excellent place to store historical artifacts with no worry about deterioration. Thus, the salt mine is a major repository which many companies use to store historical merchandise. Among other things stored in the salt mine are thousands of reels of Hollywood films….thousands of tapes and films of TV programming…..documents from major corporations…..memorabilia from major movies and TV programs…..printed material from major publishing companies…an original UNIVAC computer, so large that it would occupy almost an entire room…. While touring the Underground Salt Museum, it is possible to also receive a pretty good history lesson, too.

Aside from all the educational and commercial functions which is obviously the main purpose of the museum, it is also widely used for other functions. For example, it is a popular venue for banquets, wedding receptions….even marriages…., reunions and parties. Think how great it would be to tell your grandchildren that you were married in a salt mine. Probably not many couples would be able to say that….or maybe even want to say that. There is a dinner theater held in the salt mine in a theater specially built for that purpose. The Boy Scouts use it on a regular basis for campouts and jamborees. What fun that must be.

The Scouts just have to hope the electricity doesn’t go out! If there would ever be a power failure…..the mine is left in total darkness. And, I mean TOTAL darkness. While riding the tram through the mine, the driver stops and the power is turned off. While the power is off for only a few minutes, it is long enough to realize that total darkness….the complete absence of light…..can be very disorienting….and very disturbing. For me, at least, it is about as close to being plunged into “nothingness” as is possible. Maybe this was what it was like before God said, “Let there be light!” It is an interesting experience….but only for a short time.

Back on the surface of the earth, in the beautiful March sunlight, our next destination was the Kansas Cosmosphere…..perhaps the most popular and famous attraction Hutchinson has to offer….if you subtract the Kansas State Fair. The Cosmosphere, for those of you who are not familiar with it, is a museum and exhibition center devoted to the exploration of space.

It seems that I have visited this place so many times that they should probably hire me as a tour guide. And, I have probably spent enough money on admission tickets to retire rather comfortably to a tropical island somewhere. The first time I went….many, many year ago….it was new, interesting, maybe even fascinating in its own novel way. The second visit was also rather entertaining, as well. But….after that….the tenth, eleventh, twelfth….. Well, the novelty quickly faded away, and the exhibits were not quite so compelling. But, for a person who has never been there before….and especially for somebody who is interested in science….it is a real treat to look at the authentic….real life….space artifacts…..and a ton of original space memorabilia.

There are vehicles that actually landed on the moon…..drove on the moon….left their tire tracks on the moon. There are a bunch of space capsules that have been launched into space….circled the earth….and returned to earth safely…..with the burn marks from re-entry still very much visible on their surfaces. Among the most interesting of the exhibits….to me, at least…..is the original Sputnik, the space craft that the Russians sent into space…..thus starting the so called “space race”……launched by President Kennedy….mostly as a face-saving public relations campaign. But, in the end, this splashy beginning….this attempt to mask our embarrassment….this effort to put a bold face on our injured pride…. All of it was taken up by subsequent Presidents, and eventually the U.S.A. did become the undisputed leader in space exploration.

The scientific aspect of most of the exhibits sort of leave me behind. I do not have a very scientific brain! I do, however, recognize the importance of all the various spacecraft and vehicles and machines…. They are not only historically important, but they are also very significant in explaining why our nation dominated space travel and space exploration for so long…..paving the way for the contributions of several other nations in more recent years. And, I always hope that they will impress my exchange students and my long-term guests.

There are some interactive exhibits in which the people are free to participate. My favorite interactive exhibit is an infra red body camera….I suppose that is what it called. If a person stands in front of it….it will almost instantly measure or “read” the temperature of your entire body. It is rather interesting to see which parts of your body are hot….and which parts are cool.

Sultan and I wandered around the museum for a while, checking out the various exhibits and artifacts. Part of the museum was closed for renovation…..thank Heavens!….for me, anyway. I think the average person eventually reaches a saturation point when it comes to looking at stuff like this. My saturation point comes progressively sooner and sooner with each repeated visit. My feeling about spacecraft is much like it is with many other things: After I have seen the first dozen of them….I have seen them all.

As we left the Cosmosphere, I asked Sultan if he enjoyed it. Of course, he smiled said he did. (Surprise, surprise!) A few days later, I asked him what his favorite part of the trip was, and he admitted that he liked the Salt Museum the best… I can understand this. For one thing, the Salt Museum is more of a novelty….there is a bigger of variety of exhibits….there is the train ride….. But, a trip to the Kansas Cosmosphere is a worthwhile stop when visiting Hutchinson.

The sun was still shining brightly when we left the Cosmosphere….still a few hours from supper time. What better time to visit Hutchinson’s one and only Dairy Queen. It has moved from its downtown location where it was situated for decades….dating as far back as my high school and college days. But you can’t stop progress, I suppose. The old Dairy Queen was strictly a drive-up or walk-up little store….open only in the warm months of the year. Nobody wants to stand in line any more. However, with the help of the Internet, we located the new one……located several blocks on Main Street.

After a couple hours of standing at the Cosmosphere….and remember, nobody likes to stand….it was comforting to treat ourselves to a delicious Blizzard….and sit down and relax for a while. As we were ordering, I had to explain to Sultan what the menu said. He had not learned enough English to recognize many of the specialized words on the menu. The girl who was taking our order asked Sultan where he was from. Sultan told her that his home is in Saudi Arabia…..that he in was studying English in Oklahoma City.

“Oh,” she said, her face brightening. “We have a person here who also speaks Arabic.” Later the guy came to our table and introduced himself. He was obviously the owner of the Dairy Queen. Sultan and he exchanged a few words in Arabic. And, before we left, I told Sultan that it would be nice if he would go and say good-bye to the guy…..and maybe give him an opportunity to speak some Arabic. Sultan did this willingly….but he returned much sooner than I had expected. So….I suspect that very few words were exchanged. I suppose I didn’t really expect them to engage in a lengthy, intimate conversation. But….I thought it was a nice gesture.

We visited the Hutchinson Public Library where my second cousin is the children’s librarian. She was rather shocked to see us. I suppose it is not a daily occurrence that one of her cousins that she sees only once a year at the Kansas State Fair suddenly and without any warning drops by. However, I introduced her to Sultan, and we had a brief, but very pleasant, conversation. And then we moved on, leaving her to do more important things.

We ate our supper at the Mexican Buffet on South Main. I really don’t recall how or why we started going to this place. I can imagine that Fayez wanted to go there the first time he came up and went to the State Fair with me. Anyway, it became one of his favorite places to eat….and it seems we have always gone back. Actually, it is a popular place. Anyway, there are always a lot of people there. But, in my opinion…the food is really not that good. But, on the other hand…..what do I know? Mexican food is not one of my favorite foods, so maybe this place is world class….and I simply don’t recognize it.

As I usually do when I am in Hutchinson, we capped off the evening by sitting in the Grand Slam Bar where I am sure there was another basketball game playing on the TV. It is a sports bar, after all. I like this bar because it appears to be safe….it is located in a hotel; it is clean and spacious; it is a place where a person can go and spend the evening and not have to worry about overstaying his welcome; there is enough background noise that we can talk and not be overheard…..but (usually) not so noisy that it still easy to carry on a conversation.

One time Fayez went there at night. After a while, we noticed that we were the only people left in the bar. “What time do you close?” we asked the girl.

“Oh….don’t worry about it. Stay as long as you want,” she told us. We left a short time later…..and we noticed that as soon as we reached our car, she had already turned off the lights. We felt rather bad….. But, business is business, I suppose. We did leave her a generous tip!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rest of the Story……

Christmas and the trip out to Central Kansas were no doubt the two major events of the Christmas Break. But…..the fun was only beginning. The days were filled with merriment and laughter.

Ice Skating

Out of the wild blue yonder one day, Sultan asked he if could go ice skating. I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly. They go ice skating on the desert? Now…there is a novel idea. That would be analogous to having camel races at the North Pole. After I made sure I had heard him correctly….and questions like “Do they go ice skating in Saudi Arabia?” and “Do you know how to ice skate?” and “Have you ever been ice skating before?” and “Where did you learn to ice skate?”……Sultan told me that there had been an ice skating rink in a hotel where he and his sister had stayed…..in Dubai, I think.

Sultan claimed that he was pretty good at ice skating. He had learned how to skate in Dubai….and had become very proficient…..if not a semi-pro. How was I to know any different? I mean….Sultan is a very good athletic….and he seems adaptable to almost any sport, I suppose.

Well….much to his delight, I told him that there was indeed an ice skating rink in Topeka…..and I would check to see if it was open to the public…..and, if so….when was it open. Lucky Sultan. The ice rink was open to public skating on the Saturday following Christmas. We immediately made plans to go there. We showed up promptly at 12:30….the appointed hour. After some problems with the shoes….which can be rented on the spot….Sultan made his way out onto the ice.

I stood for a few minutes as I watched him attempt to navigate his way around the ice rink. I could sense almost immediately that there was a problem. Soon he can “limping” back to the lobby where I was waiting. There seemed to be a problem with the shoes. They exchanged the shoes for him….. Soon he was back on the ice…..rather slowly skating his way around the arena….staying very close to the outer walls…..and occasionally using them for support. After a couple revolutions, he seemed to be doing well enough…. So I went up into the seating area where I could sit and send some text messages…..and wave at him and take some pictures each time he passed by.

Sultan never fell down….at least when I was looking. On the other hand, I never saw him doing fancy “figure 8’s” or leaping into the air….or spinning around in dizzying circles.. Yeah…..I rather doubt if he is quite ready for the Saudi Arabian Olympic Team…but he had fun….and that was what was important. But….on the other hand….maybe he could have qualified for the Saudi Arabian team. I doubt if anybody else ever tried out.

Rummy

Maybe I made a mistake…..but probably not. I taught Sultan to play rummy. Most of you people know how to play rummy. It is one of the “basic” card games. This game is not bridge….or poker…..or canasta…. In so far as I know, it has never been considered as one of the “brainy” card games. Yeah….it requires some skill and concentration. But, more than anything else, it requires a great deal of luck. If you don’t draw the right cards, you can have all the skill in the world…but it isn’t going to do you much good! Like most games, Sultan was very serious about playing rummy.

While I was teaching him to play, the winner was simply the first one to run out of cards. This really isn’t a very valid way to keep score…..I mean this really IS mostly luck. And, it was not because Sultan was beating me. But, I soon taught him to play be the correct rules…..Total Points. Playing the correct way…..by keeping track of total points…..requires a bit more time…..and it also requires using a little bit of strategy….and it requires a little bit of risk…..and a little bit of nerve.

If you would ask Sultan how he did…..he will probably tell you he won every game. But….Not true!! In the very beginning, he will have to admit that I gave him a great deal of advice….corrected his mistakes…..answered his questions….let him change his mind…… Yes….I could have been a bad guy and leave him completely on his own. But….as you know….I am nicer than that. That would have been like me playing basketball against Michael Jordan! That’s my side of the story….and I am sticking to it!

On any given night, the number of wins was almost equal! I kept the score sheets for a while…..but unfortunately I threw them away. Now I have no proof. But, playing rummy is a fun way to wile away the time on a cold night. It is sort of a waste of time….. But, we had plenty of time to waste…. So let’s just say it was fun…..although Sultan’s memory is probably a little bit fuzzy when he tries to recall how many games he won.

Where Shall We Eat Tonight? ……

Meals were always a point of discussion…. Many times Sultan prepared our evening meal. And, if he ever decides not to become a doctor….I can certify that he will make an excellent chef! The things that Sultan can do with a couple pieces of chicken, a few vegetables and some rice is remarkable. In just a few short minutes, he can transform them into them into a tasty, delicious treat. I can imagine that some poor chicken might consider it an honor to give his life to become part of such a delightful feast.

And, Sultan….just like me….is learning that washing a bunch of dirty dishes can take the fun out of preparing any sort of meal. He has learned the skill….or perhaps it is really an “art”…..of putting as many ingredients as possible into one skillet or one pan….sort of skipping the “middle man”. And, the fact that we consistently use paper plates makes the meal…..and the resulting clean up….a real pleasure.

During his sojourn at my house, I added a new “dish” to my repertoire of food I am able to prepare…..along with the chili, the burritos….and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I can now make homemade pizza! I still need to refine my skills a little bit….do a little more experimenting…..maybe add a few innovative touches here and there….. But, nevertheless, I made some pizza. Along with the able assistance of Sultan, of course. The end product was certainly edible….maybe even bordering on the periphery of being delicious. Oh…to be sure, I bought the pizza crust already made at WalMart. But, I did the remainder of the work…..the part that makes it pizza.

We had only one culinary disaster. And, I will take the credit….or blame for it. Let me immediately point out that I followed the recipe to the letter. My major mistake was in not thinking of the consequences of the finished product…..or of the implications of the ingredients in the finished product.

Our friend Sam gave us some pecans when we ate lunch with him on Christmas Day. He has given us pecans every year for the past few years…..and we simply ate them. Pecans are delicious, if you haven’t tasted them. This year, however, I decided that we should really put them to good use. Why not bake a pecan pie? Come on now…..even you have to admit that is a rather good idea.

I searched the Internet for a simple recipe for pecan pie…..and there are lots of them available. After settling for a recipe that appeared to be something within my range of gourmet abilities, we picked up the ingredients at WalMart….and waited for an opportunity to bake the pie. The opportunity came soon….one of those cold nights when we were at home with nothing better to do. We confidently assembled all the ingredients….all the spices, the eggs, the milk…..and the sugar….Brown Sugar. Mixing all this stuff together went pretty well. I think we were rather proud of ourselves as we put the pie into the oven to bake.

There were two major factors that turned this sweet project “sour”. After we put the pie into the oven to bake…..for probably 35 or 40 minutes…..we immediately became occupied doing something else…… Maybe playing rummy. At the end of the time…whatever it was….we went to check on the pie. It was immediately obvious that we had left it in the oven too long. It wasn’t exactly burnt…..but I was by all means “over done”…. And, there was the obvious odor of burnt sugar…..burnt brown sugar.

For me, this was not a serious problem…..and probably wouldn’t be for most people. Aren’t most people accustomed to eating burnt toast…burnt pizza….burnt cookies….burnt hamburgers….. sometime in their life? So….no….this was not not a major problem for me. Certainly no reason not to eat the pie. But…..to Sultan? He took one whiff of the smell….and instantly decreed that he would not eat it! I am not even sure he even bothered to taste it…..either then or when it eventually cooled off.

The problem of the slightly burnt taste was not an insurmountable obstacle for me. I will eat almost anything that looks like it might be edible…..unfortunately. What I had not taken into consideration was the vast amounts of sugar the pie contained. In fact, I think we can safely say that the main ingredient was…..brown sugar. The fact of the matter is…..I generally do not eat sugar….or anything that contains a significant amount of sugar. It was been years, for example, since I have eaten any dessert with my meals. I do not put sugar on my cereal….or in coffee….or tea….. I simply do not eat sugar.

I rather conflicted. Since Sultan refused to eat any of the pie….there seemed to be only two viable options remaining: throw it away…..or eat the pie myself. When I say I was conflicted…well, that probably was not true. I simply decided to eat the pie by myself….rather than throw it away and waste all those ingredients….and waste all the time it took to make the pie.

Of course, I didn’t eat the entire pie that night…..or even the next day. Give me some credit. I do have a little bit of common sense. But….it did disappear slowly, but surely, over the next few days. It has been years….and I mean a couple decades….since I have indulged to any extent in eating anything that contains a large amount of sugar. And, now, in the space of just a few days, I had eaten about two cups of sugar…..My body probably was probably in a state of shock wondering what the heck was going on. For the next few days, I felt light-headed….unsteady on my feet….short of breath….just sort of “out of it”. I knew almost instinctively that somehow the problem must be somehow related to the sugar.

It was a lesson….and an irresponsible lesson, on my part….learned the hard way. But…I am not going to let Sultan off the hook so easily! If he would have eaten his fair share of the pie…..I would have only eaten ONE cup of brown sugar. At any rate, that will be the end of my pie making efforts for quite a while to come.

We ate out quite a few time, though. That saved us the hassle of buying and preparing the food. Northeast Kansas is not the culinary capital of the nation…..but we do have a variety of interesting and appetizing places to eat. And, we probably covered them all….from the fake…but expensive….Italian food at Olive Garden to the most delicious ice cream ever made….Dairy Queen. One of our favorite places to eat is the Golden Corral. It has a wide variety of well-prepared food…..and we feel free to sit and talk for as long as we want. We also visited China Pavilion….arguably the best Chinese restaurant in Topeka. Along with Sam, we also ate at the Globe Restaurant….which serves delicious Indian food….and also the Airport Cafe at Billard Airport. If you have never been there….try it….you’ll like it. All of these places are buffet….all you can eat places. And, all of them are friendly establishments where you are free to sit and visit without being made to feel “unwelcome”.

On Sunday it is our custom to eat at the Aladdin Restaurant in Lawrence. It is a Lebanese restaurant which serves buffet style for its Sunday lunch. In Hutchinson, one of our favorite places to eat is the Mexican Buffet on South Main Street. It is a popular place for the residents of Hutch….and it is also an all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant. I don’t know….it is really nothing special…..but a lot of people seem to go back time after time….including us!

And…..there is always our favorite bar….Terry’s Bar and Grill. We really don’t eat our meals there very often….although it has happened before. But each time we go there, we always feel obligated to order some sort of food….mostly to justify the two or three hours that we spend there. They do serve delicious, well-prepared food, however….and you probably can’t go wrong by eating there. If you only want a snack….order the nachos with cheese. They are yummy.

Let is Snow….Let it Snow…..Let it Snow…..

Having been born in the desert…..and probably having lived in a tent with an oasis right outside the tent flap….with camels….and sheep, of course…. grazing peacefully on the lush grass surrounding the oasis…..and having to endure desert sand storms like we brave blizzards….. Snow was a novelty to Sultan. It is a phenomenon that he seemed to enjoy….much more than the typical Kansan….. And, certainly much more than I do.

Depending on how you want to look at it….and from Sultan’s viewpoint it was delightful…..we were blessed with a healthy covering of snow during the Christmas season. We took many opportunities to go “play” in the snow…..if play is the proper word to use.

It was very cold when it snowed……and the snow flakes fell gently…..but steadily for several hours…..covering the ground with a soft, powdery layer of white. The temperature remained well below freezing….and the snow fell as a soft….but “dry”….flakes.

Most kids do not like this kind of snow…..because the snow is too “dry” to pack into snowballs…..or to roll into bigger balls to make snow men. It just isn’t a lot of fun. The most a person can do is pick up the powdery cold stuff and throw it at somebody. But, even then, the flakes are so cold that they usually just blow away in the wind.

This was the general situation Sultan and I faced. Our dream of building a snowman was ironically an “impossible dream” because the snow was too “cold”. On the other hand, this fact probably worked out well for me…..because I really had no desire to engage in any sort of close combat…..such as having a snowball fight! Predictably enough, this didn’t prevent Sultan from picking up handfuls of snow and attempting to throw it at me….. But, it was a futile effort on his part. The snow simply disappeared into the air…..with probably more of it blowing back into his face than into mine.

Sultan had fun lying down in the snow…..and making snow angels. The snow was perfect for that. That is probably the only way Sultan will ever come close to being an “angel”…..so I encouraged him to take full advantage of the situation. As for me….well, what can I say? In the first place….if I had gotten down on the ground…..I probably would have never been able to get back up again. I suppose Sultan may have helped me….but not until after he showered me with snow! So, I left the fun to him….and I contented myself with taking pictures…..and laughing.

Yeah……the snow was a novelty to Sultan. When the weather forecast predicted snow….he was excited and could hardly contain his excitement while we waited for the flakes to start falling from the sky. I had told him…..just like I told Fayez…..that, Yes, at first the snow would be fun and enjoyable……a unique diversion….a new experience. But…..all those feelings would fade rather quickly. Soon the “new” would wear off….and snow would become only a cold, wet, messy substance. The recognition came to Fayez rather soon….within hours, in fact! With Sultan…. It probably took about a day….or maybe two days. And, then, like most sane people….enough was enough. Snow, snow….go away……and Stay away!

But for a few brief hours, we had fun in the snow. It was different….a anomaly to be savored….a circumstance to be enjoyed….a circumstance to be experienced. Then….reality steps in. Snow is snow…..and it is cold; it is messy; is can be dangerous. Snow is snow….let it go.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

Sultan’s visit come to an end all too quickly. Somehow I was under the impression that his semester break would last until the middle of January….like almost every college and university in the nation. But….unfortunately, the next term of his language school started on the first Monday in January. Instead of staying for five weeks….he was only able to stay for three weeks.

On Sunday, January 2, we loaded his stuff into my car…..and we took off for Oklahoma City. The language school had located a private home where Sultan could live. I was not at all looking forward to driving in the city. Driving in strange cities is something I gave up many years ago. The woman who owned the house where Sultan was going to stay agreed to meet us at a McDonalds located just off I-35. This was something I thought I could handle.

It was sort of a bittersweet occasion. Having Sultan stay in my house for three weeks was a true delight…..and I knew I would miss him. But….there is always Skype….good old Skype. And, there are always other vacations and breaks when he will be coming back to my house.

We found the McDonalds with no problem. It was an easy and convenient place to meet his new host. Sultan moved him suitcase from my car to the woman’s car….along with various other stuff.

“Don’t forget to take the cookies,” I told him. Sam had given us a few dozen chocolate chip cookies with pecans in them. They were delicious. I knew that if I kept them…. Well…I would eat them! And, eat them quickly! So, I gave them to Sultan…..who accepted them gladly. Now….at the moment of truth, he was too embarrassed to take the cookies with him. So, they remained in the back seat of my car……just more sugar…that I didn’t need…..for me to eat.

I waved good-bye to Sultan…..and I started back home immediately…..and drove as far as a town called Perry, OK., where I stopped to spend the night. Early in the evening, my cell phone rang. It was Sultan. “Did you find my cell phone charger?” he asked. “I either left it in your car, or I left it at your house.”

I told him I would check the car and let him know. I did a search of the car….in all of the obvious place: the glove compartment, the side door compartments, between the seats, the floor…. No cell phone charger. I called him back. “I didn’t find your cell phone charger, but I will check as soon as I get back home”.

The next morning when I was putting my suitcase and laptop into the car, I saw the sack containing the cookies. A light went off in my brain immediately! Oh wow! I bet his cell phone changer is in that sack with the cookies. Sure enough! There it was….in the sack of cookies that Sultan was too embarrassed to take with him. “Should have taken the cookies, Sultan!” I texted him the good news…..and continued on home…..Alone….but with pleasant memories of a great visit.

Is it possible to make a life-long friend in just one hour? Especially with a person who doesn’t even speak the same language? Or who has a different religion? Or whose customs are about 180 degrees away from yours?

I think it is possible. And, I think that recently I just did it.

Sultan came for a brief visit at Thanksgiving. We were thrown together almost immediately without the benefit of any sort of intermediary or interpreter. There sitting beside me in my car was a young stranger…..and yes….one who could barely speak a word of English. And, me? No….my knowledge of Arabic is very sub-standard. Non-existent, in fact.

We managed to make it through a brief tour of Valley Falls…..and some of the surrounding territory…. Specifically…Paradise Point. Through the use of gestures, one syllable words….and a lot of silence….and lots of smiles….we established a form of communication that lasted at least until we came back home.

For the brief time were at home….we had Fayez, Sultan’s brother….to serve as a go-between. But, mainly….as is usually the case when there is an odd man out in speaking English (or any language)….Fayez and spent the time talking to each other….largely excluding Sultan from our conversation.

Later that night we found ourselves at Terry’s Bar and Grill. And, we found ourselves in largely the same situation: I speak English. Sultan speaks Arabic. My ability to speak Arabic hadn’t improved. And, neither had Sultan’s ability to speak English. But, there we were…..sitting across from each other…..looking at each other expectantly. And, we would be there for the next three hours! One alternative was to sit in silence…..to pretend to watch one of the ball games playing on one of the bar’s many TV screens.

But, we didn’t chose to do that. By now, we had both downloaded Arabic-English dictionaries onto our cell phones. We were equipped with a ballpoint pen and napkins to write on. We were also equipped with a desire to communicate with each other. So….one simple step at time….sometimes one word at a time…..we began to carry on a simple, slow….but real conversation with each other. We were taking the first small steps to an understanding and friendship that would grow as the weeks passed by.

Sultan returned to my house on December 12 to spend the Christmas break.

The foundation for our friendship had already been laid. Now the building could begin.

LEARNING, TALKING, LAUGHING…..

By sheer necessity, a lot of the three weeks Sultan spent in my home was devoted to learning the English language. He had been in the U.S.A. only two months. And, normally a person doesn’t become fluent in English…..or in any language…..in a mere two months. Sultan was attending a language school in Oklahoma City. And, as could be expected….they started from the very beginning. I got the distinct impression that they were concentrating more on grammar rules…sentence structure….verb tenses…. Stuff like that.

That is all good. Somebody had to teach that, if he were to learn to speak fluently….and coherently. And….that is a long, almost never-never ending….process. Most students in the public schools of the U.S.A never master that skill. In fact, I am not even sure it is taught any longer. Maybe schools have given up on it….considering it to be a lost cause. A great many of today’s teachers don’t even know how to speak correctly…..speak proper grammar the way that somebody back in the olden days decided it should be spoken.

And…..this is not a problem….except to those language purists who insist that every original rule be followed. I am not implying that schools no longer teach English….or language arts, as it is called today. They do…..and students are tested over it. I think it more the fact that nobody ever bothers to follow the rules. After all…. What is the main purpose of a language? To communicate with each other. Right?

Well….getting back to the story…. I was not….and for the most part….am not….so concerned about Sultan following the rules of correct English grammar and sentence construction. I was….and still am…more interested in helping him develop his vocabulary……add to his storehouse of words. I figure that these two approaches are extremely complimentary to other. His language school can teach him the “correct” way to say things. And, I will help him expand his vocabulary to we can talk about more and more things. After all, I have had a ton of experience in listening to….and understanding….foreigners speak as they continue to learn the language. For the past fifty years or so, I have worked with Vietnamese, Germans, Chinese, Koreans, Italians, French, Polish……to name the ones that come to my mind immediately. And….I have also worked with more than a few Americans who didn’t exactly speak good English, too.

We took every opportunity to learn English. Early on….immediately after he arrived for his extended Christmas break stay…..I gave Sultan a little spiral notebook to carry with him. He could write down all the new words he learned in this little notebook…..and we could use them as a basis for our conversations. He carried his little notebook with him wherever he went…..and he used it faithfully. In fact, I rarely saw him without it. Even at times I least expected, he would take out his trusty little notebook….either to write down a word….or to practice using words in sentences.

If he is nothing else (and he definitely is)…..Sultan is nice. He is rarely without a smile on his face. Fayez told me….even before I had met Sultan….to be careful. Even he did not understand a word I was saying, he would probably smile and shake his head “Yes”. Guess what? Fayez was right!

Many times I would say things to him. Sultan would smile brightly. And…to any unsuspecting person, it would appear that he had understood completely what had just been said. I quickly developed the habit of saying, “Do you understand that I just said?” or more than likely, “You have no idea what I just said….do you?” More than likely, his answer was, “No…..”

I learned this fact first hand a couple times. When we went places at night, Sultan did all the driving…..no matter that he did not have any sort of valid driver’s license. I would say, “OK, turn right at the next corner.” Sultan would immediately get in the left hand turning lane! “No, No…..turn right! Turn right!”

It turned out that he did not know the words “right” and “left”……two rather important words to know when driving. But, happily, I can say that we survived…..and Left and Right became two of his very first important vocabulary words.

No matter where we happened to be…..at home, in the car, at the fitness center, shopping….we took advantage of the time to learn language. Every place we went became a classroom. One of our favorite “classrooms” was Terry’s Bar and Grill in Topeka. It is a relaxing place to go….and sit….and talk…. And, when I could get his attention away from whatever basketball game happened to be playing on one of the many TV screens…..another of our language “classrooms”.

Whenever we left home, Sultan was always armed with his trusty little notebook and his cell phone, which contained an Arabic-English dictionary. I always carry my cell phone with me, too…..mostly for emergencies. But, it was usually a good thing I had it with me. Sultan’s cell phone was usually not in range of any of his carrier’s cell phone towers! When he signed up for cell phone service, he relied too heavily on Fayez’s advice. And….not so surprisingly….Fayez doesn’t have any cell phone service in this area either. But, be that as it may…..Sultan made constant….and profitable….use of the translating dictionary to add words to his vocabulary.

Most of the time it would probably have been easier and more convenient to simply sit at home in the evening. There is, however, something about sitting in a friendly bar that is conducive to good conversation. So, we spent many nights at Terry’s Bar and Grill talking, learning….and trying to keep Sultan focused on our conversation.

SPORTS….SPORTS….SPORTS…..

Somehow you may have gotten the idea that Sultan likes sports. If you did…..you are absolutely correct. I am not sure there is a sport that does not grab his attention….whether he is actually familiar with it or not. Familiarity seems to be irrelevant. Usually, if there is a ball and a whistle involved…. Sultan is interested in it.

Back in his home country of Saudi Arabia, he played handball….and also soccer. He excelled more in handball, though. The impression I get from Fayez….and also in a round about way from Sultan….he was perhaps the “star” player….and recognized leader…. on his handball team.

Handball in the rest of the world is not the same handball that we play here in the U.S.A. When I was in the Army, I was introduced to handball by my boss….the Commander of Troops at Fort Benjamin Harrison. And….it wasn’t exactly voluntary. He loved the game of handball. And, for some reason, he thought the rest of the world should love it, too. At least, the part of the world that worked in our headquarters office.

Everybody who worked in the headquarters was encouraged to take one hour each morning for physical training…..PT, in Army language. This was a time of day highly anticipated by most of the guys in our office. We could go to the gym….lift a few weights, ride a bicycle, shoot some baskets. Or maybe go for a jog around the Army base. To make PT time even better, I took it in conjunction with my lunch hour. So, around 11:00 or so, my best friend, a guy who worked in the Supply Section, and I would take off for the gym.

This was a great arrangement……Most of the time. But….maybe one or two days a week, our boss…..the Commander of Troops…..would decide that he also wanted some Physical Training…..or PT. And…..he wanted to play handball. And…..he needed a partner. And……that partner usually turned our to be ME or my friend….or both.

American handball….real handball, as we like to call it…..it not a game for the weak or the faint of heart. It is a fast-paced, never-stopping, always moving effort to hit a little hard rubber ball and score points. Don’t be fooled by the term “little hard rubber ball”. I mean it is HARD. And you do not hit it with a racket……you hit it with your HAND. It would probably shatter a racket on the first hit.

If you have ever been in the Army, you know that you do not say “No” to generals very often. (I never did!) So, when he said, “Come on, Specialist Darrah…..or usually just “Darrah”… Let’s go play handball.” I obediently dropped whatever I was doing…..and went to play handball. I never once won a match against him. Didn’t even come close most of the time. But….I always tried to look like I was trying…. And, I suppose….I did try. One thing for sure….when I went back to my office, my hands were swollen and sore. At least, in the beginning. And….that was not good for a person who spent most of the day sitting behind a typewriter! And….just so we are on the right page: It was a manual typewriter. Not a word processor!

This is the brand of handball played here in the U.S.A. But, has absolutely no similarity to the game of handball played in the rest of the world. I am not sure how to adequately describe the game for those people who are not familiar with it…..and most of you probably aren’t. Maybe we can describe it as a kind of dodge ball…..the game kids play in grade school. But instead of trying to hit a person and put him out of the game…..you are trying to throw the ball through a goal in the end zone….. Sort of like “air soccer” maybe. It can be….and it is….a rough game…..a fast-paced, non-stop….very physical game. And….at least, for the first few minutes….a rather interesting game. If you want to know more about it…..go find it on You Tube, and watch for a while.

At any rate, this is the game at which Sultan (and also Fayez) excelled. But….Alas….it is not a game found in the U.S.A. Fayez and I have searched the Internet for a handball league….or even a handball team….in the U.S.A……and none is to be found. Since the dimensions of the handball court have no similarity to a basketball or volleyball court, it is impossible even to improvise a game.

So…..when Sultan set his feet on U.S.A. soil, he said good-bye to his handball playing days….at least, until he goes back home again. Sultan is a highly active young man….and very athletic. Although he could no longer play handball, he could still run…and he could still work out in the gym.

Actually, Sultan is a good runner….and he could probably even be great….if he put his heart into it. But, he is a rather reluctant runner. He doesn’t love it….but he doesn’t loathe it, either. He isn’t apt to suggest it first….but he probably won’t turn down an opportunity, if he has nothing better to do. He usually doesn’t give it his full effort…..but he usually comes up with a fairly descent time. If he is running alone, he maintains a comfortable, but steady, pace. If he is running with somebody….he is highly competitive and does everything in his power to win. His only competitor while he was at our house was Fayez…..and Sultan made sure that he won.

Knowing that he would probably need an incentive to win, I told him that if he ran on the Ferguson Road from Highway K-16 to our corner…..a total of four miles….ten times, I would give him a highly prized Ferguson Road Runners t-shirt. These shirts were made back in the mid-70’s when a group of cross-country runners decided it would be cool to form a running club….and buy matching t-shirts. All sorts of names for the club were tossed about for consideration. The name “Ferguson Road Runners” was the name that was finally chosen……a name so obvious that it was an easy choice.

These t-shirts are about 40 years old. Only 50 shirts were made. They were made by a company in Topeka. We met the owner of the company at several of the cross-country races we attended. He told us one day that if we could decide upon a design, he would print the shirts and sell them to us at his cost…..just because he was impressed by the loyalty and effort and determination he saw in our impromptu group of runners week in and week out.

Our rather informal running club….the Ferguson Road Runners….held together for probably ten or twelve years. Kids drifted in and out…. Over the years, there were somewhere around 35 runners who came and went. The club was never dissolved. It just sort of came to a natural end…..as the runners grew older, graduated from high school, moved, got jobs…..or simply developed other interests. Some years ago, when I was conducting one of my infrequent binges of getting rid of stuff I don’t need…..I discovered the shirts. They have become prized souvenirs….one of a kind….never to be duplicated….highly coveted trophies.

Fayez earned a shirt (actually, two of them, because he lost one of them in the Henry Ford Museum in Detroit) by running the four miles stretch of the Ferguson Road a total….and probably in excess….of ten times. In the case of Sultan, I made a special deal: If he would run five times, he would receive a shirt. He kept his part of the agreement, running his final time the day before he left to go back to Oklahoma City…..and he received his shirt. I think the shirt is now one of his most prized possessions.

 

 

 

 

Sultan quickly established his running pace….and he rarely deviated from that pace. We timed each of his run….and all five of his times were within mere seconds from each other. I have no doubt that if he were being challenged, his times would have fallen dramatically! But, as I followed him in my car, stopping frequently to take pictures….he was never too tired to smile and wave at the camera. But, even running at his rather leisurely pace, his times were better than most people could probably ever hope for.

But, Sultan is a smart runner. I am pretty sure this was not the first time he had run four miles. Maybe it was the first time he had run four miles with a cold wind, freezing temperatures…..and snow on the ground. But he always took the time to stretch his muscles thoroughly…..both before running and after he finished. By doing this, he ran with relative comfort….and suffered few, if any, side effects at the end of his running.

While, Sultan may have been a semi-reluctant runner. He definitely was not reluctant at working out at the fitness center. This was a time he highly anticipated…..and a time that he often had to persuade me to do. Oh….I always took him, to be sure. But, his desire…..and his fondness….to lift weights greatly exceeded my desire.

I belong to a fitness center in Meriden. It is a 24-Hour center…..and each member has a key-card which enables entry round the clock. It is basically unsupervised….and members are on their honor to take proper care of the equipment. And, they are also on their honor to pay $5.00 every time they take a guest. The center, which is composed of two large rooms filled with various fitness machines, is monitored by surveillance cameras. There are several cameras in place. I seriously doubt if anybody is sitting in a room monitoring the activity twenty-four hours a day. But….I am equally certain that each camera is attached to a taping machine…..for use in case they become necessary.

For the few days that Fayez spent with us before going home to attend his brother’s wedding, he argued that nobody care if I took guests with me…..at least, that nobody would find out. Therefore, there was no need of paying the $5.00 per person fee each time we went. Reluctantly…unwillingly…..and against my better judgment…..I let myself be convinced that indeed nobody would ever know…..nobody would ever bother to ask about the $5.00 fee. So…..When we went to the fitness center, I merely used my card to enter….and we proceeded with our workout.

My fears and suspicions were confirmed one night. In fact, it was New Year’s Eve. We were on our way to Topeka to spend the evening at Terry’s Bar. We stopped at the fitness center on our way….expecting that nobody would be there on New Year’s Eve. But….we were wrong. I used my “key card”, as usual, to let ourselves in. There were actually two or three other people there. This must have been their way of celebrating New Year’s Eve. One of these people was a lady whom I had never seen before. She approached me and said, “Would you please write your card number on the sign-in sheet.” This was the first….and last time….I had ever seen or heard of a sign-in sheet. But, I willingly complied with her request, and wrote my number on the sheet.

I knew immediately that she worked there. Fortunately, I had a $5.00 bill in my billfold…and I put in the box where guests are supposed to pay their money. I sighed a sign of relief…..we were covered for the evening. Sultan was happily unaware that this was taking place. We had never paid before….and of course, he believed Fayez, who didn’t think it was necessary to pay. Later on in the evening, the woman came up to me and said, “When you bring a guest, you are supposed to pay $5.00. But, since it is New Year’s Eve, I am going to let you bring him for free. But, next time….be sure to pay.”

Ah, ha! “Oh, I already put $5.00 in the box,” I told her…innocently enough. Just like I had been doing it all along.

“Oh. That is great. Enjoy your workout,” she said.

A little later, as she was preparing to leave, she stopped again and said, “Well, I guess I will check and see if there are any messages in the box before I leave.”

I watched her as she opened the box…..and I can rather imagine the surprise as the actually found the $5.00 that I had put there. Come on, lady. You are not fooling me. You were just checking to see if I actually left $5.00. Another sign of relief. We only saw her one more time….. Or I should say, “I” only saw her one more time. This time I had no cash, so I paid her with my debit card. I think the moral of this story is: Be honest. If you are supposed to pay…..then pay. Don’t assume that the rules do not apply to you…..just like they apply to everybody else. And, never assume that nobody is going to find out.

Sometimes it is easy for other people….the people who are not affected….to take rules lightly. But…this was MY membership at stake. And, I certainly did not want to jeopardize it over $5.00.

Sultan has a fixed routine which he uses when he works out….based on the various muscle groups in the body. Each time we went to the fitness center, he concentrated on a different muscle group…..while I concentrated on staying awake until he finished. No….actually, I went through about eight of the machine weight machines…..doing about 30 reps on each machine. This is roughly 240 reps…… And, I still finished well before Sultan finished his workout.

Sultan lifted a lot of free weights. This sort of worried me. Having been a former weight room supervisor, I recognize the necessity of every individual weight lifter having a “spotter”…..just in case there any sort of problem. Can you imagine a scrawny 145 lbs. kid pinned under a bar containing a hundred pounds or so. I don’t think Sultan would take any unnecessary or foolhardy chances…..but…..Safety First. Occasionally he would ask for my help. But, more than likely, I would volunteer my assistance. And, on many occasions, I would end up helping him lift the weights back to the bar rest when the weight simply was too much for him. The sight of Sultan’s 145 lbs. body lying on the weight bench pinned down by a hundred pounds of dead weight was a sight I did not like to envision. And…..since he did all the night time driving, I would have no way to get back home.

Sultan is very conscientious and dedicated. He plans in advance….and he carries through with his plans. Sultan never entered with gym without a plan and a purpose clearly formulated in his mind. He would go directly to work and work steadily throughout the entire workout. If I asked him at any point, he would tell me exactly how many repetitions of each exercise were remaining. As for me…..after going through the usual eight stations, I would usually sit and watch TV…..or take pictures….look at the clock….and mentally say, “Come on, Sultan. Hurry up….and let’s get out of this place.”

We spent several nights at our favorite hangout in Topeka….Terry’s Bar and Grill. Anytime I have guests, this is almost a sure after dark destination. We are familiar faces to most of the people who work there. Depending on who happens to accompany me, it doesn’t take long before they become acquainted with our tastes….and usually bring our drinks without even asking what we want. That is how familiar our faces are. When Fayez stays at my house during his college breaks, they automatically know that I will order a pitcher of Bud Lite….and Fayez will have hot tea and a lemon. It is usually delivered to our table almost immediately after we are seated at our favorite table.

When Oliver came for a visit one February, we went there at night, of course. Almost immediately after we had taken our seats, the waitress appeared with a pitcher of Bud Lite…..and, of course….a cup of hot tea and a lemon. Oliver looked at it with a rather puzzled look and said something like, “What’s going on? Why can’t I have some beer?”

I started laughing. I knew immediately what had happened. They simply assumed that he was Fayez. The waitress was embarrassed and apologetic…. But, in a way, it was sort of comforting and reassuring to know that we were an accepted customer….and they were taking good care of us. And….Oliver did his beer.

When Sultan and I went to Terry’s, the dozen or so TV sets were like a magnet to his eyes. They were all tuned to ESPN or Fox Sports. It didn’t make much difference what sports was playing….Sultan usually appeared more interested in watching the TV than he was in carrying on a conversation. Most of the time….especially in the early days after his arrival……he usually had no idea was was happening. This was chiefly true when an American football game was in progress…..a game with which he was not knowledgeable. But….the sport could have been anything…..the luge….or acrobatics…..or fencing….or …….you name it. Sultan simply likes sports. He was will watch any sports…..and appear to be completely engrossed in it…..even if he has no idea what it is.

Such is his love for sports. As for me….if I do not know the team….and if it is not one of my favorite teams….and if I do not like the team….I couldn’t care less about it. On TV here in the U.S.A., sports proliferates the TV programming….several ESPN channels and even more Fox Sports channels….not to mention major sports events carried on the Big 3 TV networks…..and all the minor sports specialty channels. Yeah…..I have friends….but only a very few….who are just like Sultan: They will watch any sports and every sport, whether they like it….or understand it. Just as long as it is a sport. Just as long as somebody is competing.

Anyway…..sometimes the biggest competition for me was for Sultan’s attention.

Sultan goes to school in Oklahoma City….and he learned early that, as part of the Big 12 Conference, Oklahoma University and Kansas University compete with each other in sports. Long ago, Sultan became very much aware that I am a loyal and dedicated KU. Fan. And….knowing this… Well, I can imagine you are already way ahead of me in this story. Yes….he immediately became an instant Oklahoma University fan. But, now that I think of it….I guess that reason is as good as any reason….if somebody has to become an Oklahoma fan. Really…..I have nothing against Oklahoma. The only time I am against them is when they are playing the University of Kansas. And, as fate would have it…..they came up against K. U. three times during the basketball season: Twice on the regular season schedule…and once in the Big 12 Tournament. Fortunately, K. U. won each of the three games. And, believe me…..these wins spared me a great deal of grief at the hands….or vocal cords….of Sultan.

So…..as our friendship grew and strengthened, some of it, at least, took place in the fitness center…..and was further enabled by our friendly our mutual interest in sports…..although this interest was probably stronger with Sultan than with me.

Deja Vu

For several weeks, I knew that Fayez’s brother was coming to the USA to attend college. I had never met him….never seen him….knew next to nothing about him. I knew generic, peripheral information about him. I knew that his name was Sultan….but only because I had asked about ten times; I new that he was 18 years old…. I knew that he had graduated from high school the previous spring…..in Saudi Arabia, of course. I knew that he was a very smart guy…. “Smarter than I am,” Fayez had told me….proudly, I think. I knew that Sultan was an athlete….that he played handball on the same team that Fayez had once played on…. Again, Fayez had graciously remarked, “He is a better player than I am.” I knew that he intended to study some form of science. Fayez had initially told me that he wanted to study genetics….. And, I knew that he would be studying language at Southern Nazarene University in Oklahoma City. Fayez had chosen this school for him…..although I have no clue why. It is owned and operated by the Church of the Nazarene…..one of the more conservative Protestant denominations in the USA. And….I know, because that is the church that I and my family attended the entire time we were living in Lyons.

All this information may sound like a lot…..but it is really nothing. All of this stuff can be found by reading a book….or by watching a TV show….or talking to somebody. But, I still had no idea who this guy was….or what he was like. I had suggested to Fayez a couple times that perhaps I could talk to Sultan on Skype….and help him practice his English. But, these suggestions went nowhere.. Now that I think about it…..I had never even seen a picture of him.

Fayez spends his Thanksgiving break at my house….or at least, part of it. Fayez’s birthday always falls just a day or two before Thanksgiving…..so we usually start our Thanksgiving festivities with a birthday celebration….albeit a rather miniature affair….with only Fayez and me in attendance. And, this year was an important milestone in his young life: He turned twenty-one years old! Of course, I do not need to remind American readers how important this day is in the life of a young person….male or female. This is the date that the magic door swings open…..and there lies one of the greatest of opportunities: The right to buy alcohol legally! Never mind that the person has already passed through other doors that had previously been locked. The door that leads to a driver’s license…. The door that leads to the right to vote…. The doors that opens on to legal tobacco….legal lottery tickets….legal contracts….legal sex….. The door marked “twenty-one” is the final door….the big one….the one that contains the “forbidden fruit”. OK….I am talking about normal, red-blooded American, European and Asian youth. But, Fayez is not from America…or Europe…..or Asia. To Fayez, none of these “treasures” seemed to make any difference. Even though I tried to make the day special…it was just another day for him. But….that was not my fault! But….now, I am digressing seriously from the story.

This year he announced that he was bringing Sultan with him. I was looking forward to meeting him….. I mean, I was looking forward to just seeing what he looked like. As I said….I had never as much as seen a picture of him. Not a good, recognizable pictures, at least. It seems to me that Arabs have an entirely different attitude toward pictures than most people have…..the American, the Europeans, the Asians… Or maybe it was simply Fayez. But, however you look at it….I was eager to get a glimpse of Sultan.

Originally, they had planned to arrive around 11:00 A.M. I knew this was never going to happen….because I know Fayez. And, sure enough, sometime around 9:00, I received a text message saying their departure had been delayed….and it would be the middle of the afternoon when they finally got here. Then a little later, I got another message….. This time is was a snapshot of his GPS. Now, I was pretty sure they were on their way. Accompanying this message was a selfie of Fayez….and another guy, whom I presumed was his elusive brother….Sultan. This was the first real picture I had seen of him. Actually, when I looked at it, my first thought was, “Wow….he looks older than Fayez.” He had a definite mustache….something that made him look older, I suppose.

As usual, there was not much to do….except wait for him. And, as usual….I sat in my recliner and fell asleep. And, as usual….I left the front door unlocked. And, as usual….I was awakened from my sleep by a voice saying…..”Wake up, Beryl.” And, standing in front of me…with his ever present smile was Fayez. Only this time, not only was there a smiling Fayez standing in front of me….. There was also a smiling stranger….. A stranger who really looked nothing like the selfie that had been taken a few hours earlier.

But….there was the unmistakeable smile…..almost like the smile that I had seen on Fayez’s face the first time I had met him three years earlier…..when I met him on the road a few hundred feet from my house…..about five hours late after getting lost on his way to my house….. Sultan’s smile was equally as bright….as genuine….as spontaneous….and as inviting….as that first smile I had seen on Fayez’s face. It would become the smile that I will probably associate with him…..just like the smile I will always associate with Fayez. De´ja´ Vu.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Birthday Festivities

After the proper greetings, with the requisite small talk out of the way. After the suitcases were properly deposited in the proper rooms…..Sultan would sleep in the spare room, since he would be here for the entire winter break…..and Fayez would be relegated to sleeping on the top bunk in my room….the same place where he had started three years ago…..the birthday festivities began.

Well…..obviously, it wasn’t a big party…..only Fayez, Sultan and I. But…that is bigger than it has been in the previous three years, when it was only Fayez and I. There were no party games….no clowns….no ponies….no dancing….. But…there were fun little hats, the little things that when you blow on them….they unroll in front of your eyes. And, of course….there was a birthday cake…..the smallest one Walmart sells! Instead of lighting 21 candles…..we had only TWO candles: a candle in the shape of a 2 and a candle in the shape of a 1. 21…..Get it? There were birthday (paper) plates for the cake…..and birthday napkins…. And, birthday plastic forks and knives. It was sort of a throw-away party. When we finished eating the cake…..we simply threw everything away. No fuss…no muss….no bother. I would estimate that the party lasted at least 15 minutes!

I don’t think Fayez gets into parties like Americans or Europeans do. And Sultan? I think he was completely bewildered and puzzled about what was actually taking place! Chances are, he had never seen or attended a birthday party in his entire young life. He sat and dutifully ate his cake….probably wondering what the heck was happening. But….it just doesn’t seem right to let somebody’s 21^st birthday pass by without some sort of celebration. I mean….in the USA becoming 21 years old is a monumental milestone in one’s life. And….this is, after all….the United States of America.

Fayez said he did not want a cake. No birthday cake?? That’s almost un-American. Of course, I knew that he even though he said he didn’t want a cake…… He really wanted a cake. And, Fayez…..knowing me like he does….knew that I was going to buy a cake.

“OK,” he said, “if you are going to buy a cake, buy the smallest one available. And…don’t buy a chocolate cake.” These requirements were OK with me. Smaller cakes are cheaper! I ordered the cake at Walmart. It was the smallest cake they sold, the woman in the bakery told me…… Not very big at all. I picked up the cake on Tuesday. Wow…. If they had sold the smallest cake they make….I could only imagine what their largest cake must look like. Actually, we could have fed most our rural neighborhood with the cake.

We ate only a small fraction of the cake at our “party”…..and put the remainder of the cake back into the box….and put the box on the kitchen counter. And, basically…..that is where it stayed….untouched….. until a couple days after Fayez and Sultan left. And, then I threw it in the trash! But, that is beside the point. We DID have a birthday cake.

As soon as the “party” ended, Fayez announced that he was going to go study for his final exams. As he disappeared into his room….Sultan and I got into the car and took off on an trip of exploration. For first stop was Valley Falls, of course. This segment of our exploration took probably a grand total of ten minutes! High lights of the tour included such notable sites as the post office….the school….the swimming pool…..the two baseball fields…..the football field…..and a trip up and down Broadway….or whatever the main street of Valley Falls is called. I have lived here since 1969….and I am still not sure what the name of the main drag is. I am pretty sure it is Broadway….but…it also may be Main Street. It really doesn’t make much difference. There is not much left there any more. There are days when a person can drive down the main street of town….a length of two blocks…three, if you really want to stretch it….and there will be only three or four cars parked on the entire stretch. And, I suspect that most of them belong to employees of the few stores that remain.

Our tour continued at Paradise Point….the abandoned state park a few miles south of my house. I think it is safe to say that Sultan probably found Paradise Point to be slightly more interesting and enjoyable that the tour of Valley Falls. Even in late November when the trees are barren of leaves, it is a quiet and rather beautiful spot to visit. Back in the “old days”, before the budget cuts of the Ford administration, it was a lively, bustling park…..with camping spots, picnic tables, fire rings, restrooms and showers….and relatively good roads. Now….it lies dormant….largely uncared for….infested with acres of poison ivy…..

After our brief excursion we returned home to prepare for our evening’s activities.

The birthday celebration continued with a birthday feast at the Golden Corral. I doubt if Sultan had ever seen so much food…..just sitting there waiting to be eaten. It was a good introduction to American gastronomical delights…..and probably also gave him a hint as to why so many Americans are overweight. For most of the time we spent at Golden Corral, he followed Fayez around…..who helped him identify the vast array of strange foods.

We ended the evening at Terry’s Bar and Grill….our usual late night favorite. Fayez had taken at least one of his text books with him so he could study…..a little bit of over zealousness, I think….so that left Sultan and I to get acquainted with each other.

Let’s face it…. It is difficult to really get acquainted with somebody when neither of the people can speak each other’s language. This rule obviously applied to Sultan and me. My knowledge of the Arabic language is nonexistent. And Sultan’s understanding of the English was…well….about as close to nonexistent as you can get. Let’s compare my knowledge of the Arabic language to a dead battery. You turn the key…..and nothing happens. Not even a click. Sultan, on the other hand: Well, there may have been a click…or maybe even a feeble response. But….but not even close to what it takes to start the car.

With the help of our cellphones….and, I can honestly say this is one place where it actually came in handy…..and the Arab-English dictionaries we had downloaded….we were able to carry on a low…painful….halting…bewildering….conversation. But, throughout the entire two hours of near torture….the smile rarely disappeared from Sultan’s face. Yeah….I would say we took a giant step in getting acquainted.

Sultan’s First Thanksgiving….and the Rest of the Visit

The next day…Thursday…was Thanksgiving….Sultan’s first Thanksgiving. And, it has become more or less a tradition that Fayez and I go to our friend’s….Sam Delap…..apartment to eat. Sam is a good cook. And, his culinary creations are delicious. Thanksgiving meals are sort of traditional….but well….let’s say that they an art form in their own unique category. You know how it is when you walk through a contemporary art gallery? All the pictures are “art”…..but none of them can be crammed into a single style or category….they all have their own special character. That is the way Sam’s Thanksgiving meals are. They are traditional…..but, you know this is probably not the way the Pilgrim mothers had prepared the same meals the day the Native Americans came to celebrate…..if they indeed ever showed up at all. But….let me say this: If the Native Americans (Indians, as they were probably called back then) did sit down with the settlers on that famous day in our history….. And, IF Sam had been the cook…..they would surely have liked his food….and probably would have shown up every weekend for more.

If it had not been for the delightful meal…..and the great time we had at Sam’s apartment…..Thanksgiving Day would have been miserable….a bummer. It was raining when we drove to Topeka in the morning; and it was raining when we left Sam’s apartment to drive back home in the afternoon. If there were any redeeming factors….it was that Sam sent us home with most of the left overs.

The steady rain had diminished to a light rain….almost a heavy mist….by the time the late afternoon had arrived. Fayez was still urgently studying for his final exams. I urgently settled myself into my comfortable recliner for a nap. I don’t remember what Sultan did…..probably he took a nap, too. Poor kid. His brother was busy studying; his host sound asleep in a recliner. What else was there to do…..except sleep?

Fayez is rather obsessive about studying. It seems to consume his life. In fact…..I think it is his life. But, this fact also made it possible for Sultan and me to spend time together that may otherwise not have been possible. Fayez spent most of the visit in his room…..or this time, it was Sultan’s room. Sultan and I were left to entertain ourselves. This was good in a couple ways. First of all….Sultan was actively involved in our conversation. He had to be… It was only he and I. It was entirely normal for him to automatically look at Fayez whenever I asked him a question. And, it was entirely normal for Fayez to simply answer the question for Sultan….eliminating any sort of interaction between Sultan and me.

Or there is a second scenario…..and this happens commonly when there are two people who speak the same language…..and one person who does not speak the language. The two people who speak the same language simply proceed to talk in English….and the person who does not speak the language is simply left out. This is basically what happens when Fayez and I….and Sultan….are together. We simply go ahead and talk….and leave Sultan out of the conversation.

I mentioned this several times to Fayez….. “We need to include Sultan in our conversation.”

Fayez’s most common response was, “Oh, it’s OK….he doesn’t care.”

Well…..I don’t know. Maybe Sultan didn’t care. I never asked him. However, I can speak from a long history of personal experiences……and I can say with some authority: Yes….It does matter. And….Yes, I did care.

My earliest experience in being left out of conversations dates back to my days in South Vietnam. Until I learned to speak the language, I was largely an outsider when I was around Vietnamese. They babbled their unintelligible language…..and I did not have a clue what was going on. Fortunately, Vietnamese people are usually polite enough to make an attempt to include their non-Vietnamese speaking friends….such as I….in their conversations. Of course, I realize that it is virtually impossible for somebody to translate every work that is spoken. I also know that it felt good to be included in their conversations.

My second…..and probably most extensive experience in being left out of a conversation….comes from my experiences in Germany. I have spent time with the families of each of my former German exchange students…..visiting them in their homes. I can recall many incidents when they sat and talked in German, while I merely sat there….uncomfortable…..wondering what they were talking about….and if they were perhaps talking about me. (Of course….they weren’t. I hope.) There was nothing intentional…..or ulterior….about it. They just did not think to include me in their discussions.

A couple rather amusing incidents stand out in my memory.

I was visiting in the home of one of my former German students. I was led to the understanding that my former student and I were going to leave and go check out his town….and perhaps the area around the town. As I sat there waiting to leave, an argument seem to break out…..and in my mind, a rather heated argument. The argument….or maybe I should call is a discussion….went on for what seemed like several minutes. Voices were raised….and the discussion became rather animated.

“Oh, no,” I thought. “They are probably talking about me. Maybe they don’t want (him) to drive the car. Maybe they have something planned. Maybe I had done something wrong.”

After a while, the discussion came to an end. My exchange student turned to me, and said, “Come on. Let’s go now.”

When we were in the car, I asked him what the argument had been about. Was there a problem? “Oh….no,” he said. “We were just trying to decide that kind of bread I should buy for dinner tonight.”

Another such incident took place one evening in Berlin when I invited Frank, one of my former students, and his sister to dinner one evening in a Chinese cafe. It was a pleasant evening as we sat and talked. Both of them speak fluent English….so communication was no problem. Our conversation was interesting and funny. At the conclusion of the meal, we motioned for the check…..which was my responsibility….and which was mine to pay. But, when the waitress arrived, both Frank and his sister looked it over closely…..and they began an excited and animated discussion. I had no idea what they were talking about…. They called with waitress over….and an ever more animated…. No…let’s called it heated…..discussion ensued. There was much pointing….much gesturing….raised voices….. Again….this went on for a minimum of five minutes….probably more. At last, things calmed down. Frank handed me the check, and said something to the effect of, “OK…. You can pay it.”

When we were safely outside on the sidewalk, I asked Frank about the problem. Wow…it seems that they thought the waitress had charged ME for a large size drink….and she only served a medium size drink. A heated, prolonged argument over perhaps a total of 10 cents….. And, as it turned out….there was no mistake at all.

Another incident…..and I promise this will be the last example….occurred during another visit. I was visiting Robert, my German student from 1998-1999. We….Robert, his parents and I….went to the city where Robert’s grandfather….his dad’s dad….lived. During the course of the visit, Robert’s parents took the grandfather out to a restaurant for lunch. Of course, I went with them. We we sat at our table eating. Most of the conversation was in German, of course. At one point, it was very apparent that they were talking about me. They were stealing rather furtive, sidelong glances at me. Nothing very overt or obvious. But, I think most people can sense when people are looking him them. Of course, I certainly didn’t say anything….. Like….”Why are all you people looking at me?”

But, again, when Robert and I were eventually alone, I asked what was going on back in the restaurant…..what were they talking about? “Oh,” he said, “My grandfather asked if you were married. When we told you are single, he asked how you manage to live….without a woman to take care of you….to cook your meals….to do your laundry. He just can’t understand how a man can live by himself.”

I thought it was a rather strange thing to be talking about…..especially in a family gathering. But….I hope I satisfied his curiosity. There I was. Alive. Functioning. Rather well educated and successful. With at least a small degree of sanity. And, I was fully dressed…..in clean clothing….with socks that matched…..and my pants on frontward.

So…..the point of these stories is: Don’t tell me that it is OK…..or that the person doesn’t care. Because I know that it is not OK. And I know that people do care.

And, with Sultan, I knew at the time that what we were doing was rude and inconsiderate….that it was wrong to leave Sultan out of our conversations. And….if could have changed it….I would have.

But….Sultan and I would have other opportunities. That night…..Thanksgiving night….we sat in the front room with a fire burning brightly in the wood stove, and continued the conversation we had started the previous night in Terry’s Bar and Grill. I had downloaded an app on my cell phone…..translating English into Arabic…..and vice versa….which helped our simple conversation along.

Thanksgiving night was also the night that I introduced Sultan to the Kansas Jayhawks by presenting him with a K. U. t-shirt. This is an event for which I can imagine he will thank he for the rest of his life.

During Thanksgiving night….true to what the weather forecast had predicted….there was a mild accumulation of ice. When I first looked out the front door on Friday morning, it was apparent that the world was covered with a thin layer of ice. And, part of that world happened to be the windshield and windows of my car.

Our plan for the day was that I would take both Fayez and Sultan to the mosque in Topeka…..the same one where I always take Fayez when he is staying here. Then we would come back home and make chili for supper. Fayez said that the service….or whatever it is called…..started at 1:30. In order to be there on time, it is a good idea to leave our house approximately one hour in advance…..just in case there are problems along the way.

As is usually the case, we were running a little late. About 12:40 I went out to start the car so it could warm up a bit…..and also to clean off the windshield. Unfortunately, the ice that had accumulated on the windshield and the windows was far greater than I had anticipated. I mean we had a serious ice problem. This was not the kind of ice that could be removed with a few swipes of an ice scraper. It was not even the kind of ice that could be removed with an ice scraper….period. Turning the defroster on full blast was at least a psychological help…….but, not a very practical help….at least, as a quick solution.

The only solution seemed to be boiling water! ……One coffee maker at a time. So this is what we….Sultan and I….did. We boiled a container of water…..took it out and poured it on the windshield…..scraped what we could. Then boiled another container….. Luckily, I have two water boilers, so we were able to keep up the process rather continuously. It worked….but it was a slow process. Remember…..not only the windshield was covered with ice…..but also all the windows. The rear window defroster helped a great deal in melting the ice a little bit….. But, when the entire process was finished….and the car was safe to drive…..it was already after 1:00.

“Do you still want to go?” I asked Fayez.

“Yes, it won’t make any difference if we are a little late.”

“OK…. Let’s go.”

It was after 1:30 when we got to the mosque. I stopped to let them out….and then made a U-turn so I could park my car in front of the mosque. I had intended to sit in the car and write some messages while I was waiting for them to return. I had barely had an opportunity to turn on my cell phone…..much less to write a message…..when I looked up and saw them walking toward the car.

“It started at 1:00,” Fayez said. “Everybody had already left.”

Oh well….sooner or later the ice on the windshield and windows would have had to be cleaned off…..so the effort wasn’t entire in vain. And, I was happy that I didn’t take off and go somewhere while I was waiting.

With the mosque part of the plan taken care of……we returned home to accomplish our second objective for the afternoon…..making chili.

Since I have no formal, written recipe for making chile, it is largely just a matter of mixing some stuff together in what seems to be pleasing amounts: hamburger, tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, chili beans, onions, green peppers…..and of course, the spices. This was Sultan’s first experience with chili. He was largely in charge of browning the hamburger…..which is the most labor intensive part of the process.

Actually, my role was mainly as the “supervising chef”. I kept a watchful eye on each step…..and made the major decisions concerning the ingredients. I am always amazed when people with no experience or knowledge of chili-making procedure want to take off and go their own direction. Who knows? The result could well be delicious….but, it does not turn out to be chili. It turns out to be…..well….whatever name the person wants to give it. My job was to make sure that the chili turned out to be “chili”……and not this other unknown creation.

After we had satisfied our stomachs with chili….and the kitchen was somewhat tidied up….. Fayez returned to his room to resume his studying. Sultan and I were given another opportunity to spend some time together. We could have sat in our warm living room in front of the brightly burning fire and talked. Or we could drive down to Topeka to Terry’s Bar and Grill for the evening. It was cold outside….but it was not snowing. The windows on the car had already been cleaned….. So..why not go to Topeka? Sitting in Terry’s Bar and Grill is always an invitation for conversation. It is a neighborhood bar in the truest meaning of the word….and friendly people were sitting at the tables eating, talking, laughing…..watching whatever game happened to be playing on one of the multiple TV sets.

Our conversation was interesting and lively. But, as you may have suspected, we did not discuss the global economy….or world peace…..or solutions to American involvement in Afghanistan. Our conversation was very basic. Again we depended heavily on the translators on our cell phones. But, these conversations were the foundation of a lasting understanding and trust that had begun to develop. These were the moments that would cement the bond of easy familiarity, of brotherhood and affection which rule our future contact. And, this is far more important than the substance….or lack of substance….of our simple, elementary dialogues.

Sultan had never witnessed anybody drinking a pitcher of beer. So…..for him….if he gained nothing else from these hours spent in the bar….. He now knows that I am fully capable of drinking a pitcher of beer with no apparent adverse or debilitating side affects.