I also rarely posted trip specifics before, but it’s amazing how much more free you feel when you don’t have to ponder that you’re advertising an empty house!  So, as things stand, I leave Dec 26th bound for Dublin, Ireland.  I arrive the 27th and will be there a whole night!  The morning of the 28th, I’ll be hopping straight on to a 6 day Paddywagon bus tour that rings around the whole isle.  Granted you can only see so much in such a short period, but I’m considering it the appetizer.  Beyond that, I have literally no plans until I leave for Paris on the 23rd of January.  So, I have weeks to spend in Dublin certainly and perhaps revisiting somewhere from the tour or I’m looking a lot at the Aran Islands off the Southwestern coast.  The largest island, Inis Mor, is about 9 miles long and at its widest point, about 3 miles wide.  At this time of the year, there won’t be many tourists and it’s mostly a pedestrian place with some awesome prehistoric forts and beautiful geography.  The photos I’ve seen of it call my name, but there’s a chance that somewhere I visit at the outset will call me back louder.  Any one with Ireland suggestions, by all means, feel free to drop them my way!

On the 23rd, bound for Paris for 5 nights before returning home for winter and more reflection time.  You see, at the outset of this grand experiment, the plan was firmly spending my savings on some good old fashioned travel time.  And it may well stay that way, but I’m also toying with the idea of spending some of my savings on something a bit more lasting if I can find the right place, probably in one of Georgia’s “second cities” -  preferably closer to the mid-state.  It may surprise some of you that I nearly put down an offer on a house in Macon this month.  At the literal last moment, I decided to shelve that idea for the moment.

Why not Atlanta?  Atlanta was a chapter of my life I wouldn’t exchange.  Like any good book, it had its highs and lows, and it set the stage for learning how much I loved seeing the world beyond and, of course, it was where I learned to love being behind a camera so much.  But I also don’t relish returning to Atlanta.  I would not be so bold as to say never.  There’s especially some soft spots in my heart for intown Atlanta where I lived my first two years.  They were the poorest years of my life (getting started after college), when every penny mattered, but it seemed everything was on my doorstep of my tiny apartment and it was the most diverse community in which I’ve lived.  So, you can see, genuinely no hard feelings, but I have also grown weary of the size of Atlanta, not the people but the sprawl, for now anyway.  Each trip back to see friends or handle business has reminded me what it’s like to sit in grid lock traffic and how frustrated I got not being able to get somewhere 10 miles away in less than an hour.  If Atlanta can ever escape the car and embrace mass transit, it could be an awesome place.

So, I may come back at the end of January and decide to start down a new path, or I may come back and plan some more travel starting in Spring, or if I have an incredible light bulb go off, I may figure out a way to do some of column A and some of column B.

Picket Fences by marksda1

Where did this new direction come from?  While I was already reading a lot about small living before my summer adrift, I’ve had a lot of time to really read about a lot of different topics, specifically centering around small living, urban homesteading, and trying to have a smaller impact on the world.  And I don’t per se see myself in a travel camper (believe it or not, heavily considered), I do see that even my 1,500 sq foot town house was more than I ever needed alone.  There are families, living in less space than I had to myself.  Some are actually here in the US, but most you’d read about here have done so out of choice, i.e. the (hopefully) growing realization that we don’t really NEED 3,000 square foot houses.  All they become is places to pile more and more belongings.  Anyone who saw my storage unit would know that I’m in no danger of becoming an ascetic monk soon, but I have over the past few years (and will continue to) shed some of the things in my life that are truly just retaining space.  Having a smaller place to keep your stuff is its own mandate to deal with excess.  And if I can wing a way not to be paying for that space over 30 years of my life, all the better.  When you look at how much of your budget is spent on your house and all the stuff in it, you’ll realize that those mortgages are not just a promise to pay a loan but an anchor to a way of life that may not offer you as much satisfaction as you thought.

Anyway, before I get all mystic and hippie-like here, I’ll let it go at that.  I’m happy to discuss with anyone who’s interested and you are free to use it for my sanity hearing later. 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

I hope that everyone out there who I’ve known over the years has an awesome holiday!  This is as close to a card as I’m sending, but the sentiment is heart felt.  Even if I don’t talk to you every day, I think of people I knew last week as well as many years ago quite often.  And even if I’m awful at responding, I love to hear from you about what’s going on in your lives!  Merry Christmas and Happiest year ahead to you all!

I spent a good chunk of my day exploring the small town of Altagracia on the isle of Ometepe on my own as reported part way in last time.  I took a local bus out and got in some net time during the rain and wandering around the small town.  I eventually found a local cemetery, which is on my list of cool things – seeing the different burial practices and all.  Similar to Yucatan but not as colorful.   There were horses and a bull grazing in this one.  I didn´t realize about the bull until I was quite close but he seemed content to eat and really didn´t care.

Afterwards, I got a ¨quick¨ lunch in a little restaurant.  It was the slowest meal yet – over an hour to get food after ordering.  It really is slow time down here.  I missed several buses back to the hotel while waiting on lunch.  Finally got it and woofed it down and made a run for the central square to find a bus back.  Lucky me, the bus that should have left 15 minutes earlier was still sitting in the square, jam packed with people and boarding more and more.  I´ve been on a couple of ¨chicken buses¨in Mexico, but this was much more crowded.  Lots of kids, so maybe school was out.  Not sure, but crowded.  Standing room didn´t even really exist.  I was one step up from the exit on the stairs.  Oh, and it was an old Bluebird school bus made in Fort Valley, Georgia!  Surprise, right up the road from home!

The bus finally shoved off, and then stopped several more times to take on more passengers, never dropping any off.  I have no idea how they kept squeezing them in.  One mother got on the bus, handed her baby to the ticket collector, climbed over everybody and then had her baby passed back to her.  It was really a neat experience ONCE!

After getting back, the group re-gathered and most of us went to a rodeo.  I won´t go again.  Seeing them get the bull riled up once was quite enough.  Several of us left early and waited outside for the rest.  I´ll try to be neutral and accept it as not my culture, but it was not fun.

Next morning, we made our way up to Granada!  Granada is a lot like Merida, Mexico.  And in January, it´s as hot as Merida was in May!  Whoa!  It´s a colonial spanish city like Merida, so that´s where a lot of the similarities come from.  In two days, I´ve wandered a lot of the streets and gotten some (I hope) great photos of old spanish architecture, peeling paint, and all.

Yesterday was a tour of Massaya Volcano.  There have been several chances but all involved hours and hours of hiking.  This is a park and you can literally drive to the crater.  Perfect!  It was quite a site.  No lava visible in the day, but you could see and smell sulfur smoke rising from the crater.  Apparently no eruptions since 1772, but still active.  We walked around there a bit and then visited a nearby town market and a pottery shop/school.  There were some great bargains to be had, and now I just have to hope they can make it home in one piece!  Think good thoughts!

After we got back, I walked to the edge of the old city to a giant old cemetery I´d seen on the way in.  Fantastic!  A half hour walk, but totally worth it as I got there in the best afternoon light.  There´s really no way to describe it.  I think it may be similar to New Orleans.  Tons of mausoleums.  Crosses and statuary dotting the cemetery´s skyline.  I really could have spent a day there but it was late and I wanted to get back to the centro historico before dark.  There were tons of guards in the ecemetery but there were also people sleeping amongst the graves!  Not a full fledged city living in the cemetery like we saw in Egypt, but none the less they were there.

This morning, got up early and tried to re-pack everything.  We have a charter cessna to ride from Managua to Selentiname island this afternoon.  There are weight restrictions for both checked in bags and carry-on.  I´m worried about hitting the weight limit on my carry-on since that´s all my camera stuff.  So, I tried to re-distribute to the pack anything I wasn´t worried would break.  I may have to pay for overage in the checked bag… oh well.

Anyway, that´s it from Granada.  I could easily stay here a few more days.  Nice city, nice people, but just a taste of it on this trip.  Maybe back one day, maybe not.  You never know.

Once I was finally moving, I headed over to Earls Court, the exhibition center there has a Doctor Who Exhibit that was mad fun.  Aside from trips to Forbidden planet (the huge cult tv and comic book shop here), I’ve never done anything really geeky here.  I’m in shock to say that I’ve already visited Forbidden Planet this trip and got nothing for myself.  Truly shocking.  I just didn’t see anything worth the money and the dwindling space in my home.  Anyway, the Doctor Who exihibit was mainly geared towards the new show, of course, but included some highlights of the past Doctors.  It was truly cheesey fun getting to see so many props, stand in front of a blue screen and see yourself standing in the Tardis control room, and just in general see so many people geeking out over the same thing.  I guess this was my less crowded fanboy convention this year.  Afterward, I wandered through the gift shop, literally over-flowing with all manner of Doctor Who stuff from classic to now.  I was tempted by a few items but talked myself out of them.  The only thing I really wanted was some sort of souvenir that actually showed I had been, but they only had t-shirts… no thanks…  I’ll just hang on to the ticket in my box of junk from my travels.

After a quick lunch (sort of brunch as I hadn’t had breakfast and it was cruising towards 1pm).  I decided that the afternoon was to go check out the Tate Modern art gallery, which has been on my list of things to do for several trips.  I overshot my tube choice just a smidge and wandered along the Thames path to the bridge at St. Paul’s.  Very proud that I was able to over directions to three people while I was on my way.  Oh, and I was able to point out Monument (the monument to the great fire of 1666).  I regret that it’s completely covered in tarps and scaffolding while being refurbished.  I overheard a son and his father looking for it standing literally 10 feet from it.  Their disappointment was palpable, and yet again I will not be climbing it.  Oh well.

Tate Modern was interesting.  i think most of my excitement was for the building, an old industrial power plant on the south bank of the Thames that was re-born as an art gallery.  I think it has been so far down my list for so long because I have mixed feelings about modern art.  It’s not that I don’t consider it art, it’s that often I don’t really see what others see in it.  While the museum is free, there are paid exhibits.  I ended up paying to see one by an artist called Cy Twombly, an American artist who did most of his work living in Italy.  This was a slight mistake.  I had seen him listed in the guide I got, but the adjacent description was actually for an exhibit on contemporary urban photography that had ended a couple of weeks ago.  I realized my mistake after I walked into the first room and re-checked the brochure.  This was modern art at it’s modernist…  undulating crayon lines, blobs of paint, and I could not  help the feeling that I was looking at one of those posters from a decade ago where you had to squint to see an image in the picture.  I read the descriptions in the guide and saw nothing that was supposed to be there.  I squinted.  I turned sideways, I looked at an angle, and all I ever saw looked like squibbles and lines.  He had a few sculptures and some later modern stuff that didn’t leave me wholly unhappy but by and large, I’ll consider that admission my donation to the arts…

From there, I wandered through a ton of art.  I’m not familiar with most of the artists.  I want credit for stopping at a couple of Picassos, at least they caught my eye.  There were also some very cool sculptures and even a smattering of photography along the way.  All told, I spent around 3 hours, getting in my quotient of the arts before my feet told me enough was enough.  I had blisters days ago that have finally healed, but now have managed to kill my arches.  I don’t know what I was thinking when I didn’t pick up the arch supports that were lying in my closet.  I know I have issues with them, so I should have.  And I’ve paid the price.  When I finally found a pair, they were the equivalent of nearly $40…  I felt a wave of wallet-robbing-nausea wash over me as I paid for them.  An expensive lesson.

I meandered a bit more before finally wandering into Leicester Square hunting for a meal.  I found a Mexican Restaurant.  This is my second attempt at Mexican this trip.  The first was in Bath.  While it was a fine meal, it did not compare to home and wasn’t even served remotely in the same manner.  An enchilada that included the rice within it and was mammoth and was served with a salad!?  Of course, tonight was Saturday night, so the place was packed.  I was given a pager and told it was a 20 minute wait.  I wandered into the bar to wait… no seats… I stood for a few minutes.  My feet already felt better but not like standing, no sir.  Finally I notice this seat behind this black lady and went and asked if it was taken.  She wasn’t sure, but the seat beside her, which I assumed was taken, was not.  As I sat down, the couple across from me gave a look that combined sympathy with relief.  She turned out to be a talker, and I don’t  just mean a little conversation, I mean I feel like I know her life’s story now, at least the bits I could understand through the heavy Jamaican accent.  She apparently was going to see a movie, but needed a drink first or it would be “garbage.”  I sincerely hope that means she was meeting friends, otherwise it’s expensive garbage!  She had a brain tumor removed at some point in the past -she showed me the scar.  She told the doctor his other 9 patients with the same surgery would die, because it was their time, but not hers.  She lived because she “had a strength of purpose.”  I wasn’t really sure what she meant by that but at least followed her comment that it wasn’t science that saved her, it simply wasn’t her time yet.  She’s 67 and expects to live to be 105, because she knows that’s her time.  Really, there’s more to be told, but that should be enough for you to get an idea.  She was harmless and interesting, but I was still quite happy when the pager went off to get my table.

My table was, of course as close to the kitchen door as possible.  This is what happens to you when you dare defy society and eat at a sit down restaurant alone.  It doesn’t always happen, but it doesn’t surprise me either.  The meal was okay.  Closer but still not quite the Mexican I’m used to.  A touch bland, but almost all the parts were there this time.  Only missing the refried beans.  I’ll survive.

Afterward, I contemplated seeing a movie, sounded great since my tired feet could stit still.  I checked the prices… uhm… wow… they pay more for a movie in pounds than we pay in dollars.  I know that Leicester square is kind of a hub, so maybe at other theaters it’s not so bad, but it cost £13.50 to see a movie at nights or on weekend!  That would be around $26…  I could not justify that cost so just wandered a bit before hopping the train back to the hostel.

No idea what’s on for tomorrow.  But my feet would appreciate a somewhat early to bed night.  Hopefully I’m not in a room of folks who are already out for the count.  Last night, two of the 4 total in the room had already called it a night at 10pm!  So, I ended up getting organized in the dark!  I was surprised as I’m usually one of the comparative early to bed folks.  And if I’m asleep when the others roll in, they have to be remarkably loud to bother me.  Oh well, wish me luck!

That evening, we took a little boat trip as a group across the nile to this little restaurant on the edge of the Western Desert. Great fun, but for me, so so food. The novelty of it more than made up for that.

It was an early dinner and we were back across maybe 7pm or so. We also found out that we got to sleep in the next morning, we would leave hotel at 10am! YAAYYY!!! I did my packing, which was a bit of a challenge. Had to figure out what I needed to have easily accessible for two days as everything else was stored in the big bags far under the deck. Per usual, over estimated what I needed. Oh well.

The felucca is a traditional Egyptian sail boat. You really have to see one to understand it (and when I get back and upload photos you will), but the deck is flat and in the case of the tour boats, covered with mattresses covered in one huge sheet. There’s a canopy that can be removed a few feet over head. You can’t really walk across deck, more crawl or hunched over. There’s a little short galley at the front where you can access the underside where everything is stored and a small crew cabin. We each staked out our little piece of deck where we’d spend the next two days.

The first day commenced, and we sailed to the police station to file our request to sail and that was approved. There was a hang up, though, high winds. Too high to sail. So, all the feluccas, probably somewhere between 6 and 10, sailed to this little strip of land and beached waiting.

Evening came, and we could still see the lights of Aswan. A few turned back. They were on a one day trip and they would have to arrange land routes to make their destinations. The rest of us had a nubian party on the beach and went to sleep snug in our feluccas. At night, they put up tarps around the sides and haul out a bunch of blankets. A sleeping bag was still a necessity this time of year. The first night was not so bad. Back a bit sore but warm and happy when morning came.

Day two, we managed to make a late start and get a little ways up river but not very far. We had a planned stop to see a traditional Egyptian village. I think it was called Daraw. I don’t have the words to describe it. We saw the camel market, or rather the camels that were not sold that day in the market, which takes place in the mornings. Camels are brought in from Sudan and used either for labor or for meat. The village itself was more what I would think of as a very small town. The people there do not often see outsiders. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but they were over whelmingly friendly and curious.

Oh, I forgot to mention how we got there. We weren’t able to make it by boat (dang winds), so we beached again and a truck sort of thing came to pick us up. Basically a little pick-up with a top over the back and a row of seats on both sides. Twelve of us more than filled it. Actually, including the captain who came in for supplies and Sam, our guide, we numbered 14 (plus driver). You see these little taxi truck things all over the place. I’m pretty sure I saw some like it in Mexico, but would never have had the chance to ride one otherwise.

We went back to the boat and crossed over to a desolate little strip of land. One other Intrepid tour (slightly different but overlapping route) met us there. After dinner, we had another Nubian party. This one was a surprise even for the guides. J.J. – our host on Elephantine Island, sent singers to meet us there. Mostly drumming and some singing. The neat part was that two in the other tour had either gotten engaged or tied the knot. I was never clear on which it was. So, it turned into a celebration for that.

Slipped off back to our boat when most of the rest did and called it a night. Until around midnight, when the call to nature came… literally… I had high hopes of not using the bathroom tent… oh well… such is life… I’m glad it wasn’t colder! Second night sleeping was better. I put some of my blanket underneath and used it to cushion things. Much better!

Breakfast on the Felucca before a brief sale across to be met by the minibus. Wind kept us from making it as far down as we were supposed to but we made up the distance today by the bus. So, we bid farewell to the Felucca, our home for two nights and the crew. The cook, Mustafa (sp?) was simply incredible. This was the part I skipped in telling the details. This was what made those nights sleeping on a cushion on a deck worth it. Everything was vegetarian (no power to keep things cold on the boat), and it was all wonderful. I worried that I wouldn’t enjoy it, but I did. I think the absolute best were yesterday’s pancakes at breakfast. Covered in jams. Just heaven.

On the way back on the minibus, brief stop at Kom Ombo temple to join a convoy heading to Luxor. Kom Ombo is a temple to the crocodile god (sorry forgot his name) and we just looked from outside the fence – no one was interested in paying to go in. Afterwards an hour in the convoy and then a stop at Edfu temple. This one we actually went into. This is a late temple to Horus, the god of the living king. It was built after Egypt was conquered by Alexander the Great. If I remember correctly, actually after his time, but still following his traditions. It was built in the Greek style, but using the Egyptian gods and themes. You could see the greek influences, no doubt. An amazing place. My only issue with it was the market. On the way out, I got caught behind some tourists who were having a hard time escaping the vendors and thus was trapped as well. I thought it was the worst until later today.

We got into Luxor at 2pm. Checked into the Little Garden Hotel just off Television Street (I kid you not). We had time to shower and clean up. I have never enjoyed a shower so much in my life. Peeled off the dirty clothes and piled everything up and took it down for laundry. Supposed to get it back tomorrow. Better!

We then had lunch… the guide took us to this awesome place nearby… food… western food… glorious pizza…. As much as I enjoyed the food on the boat, this is my first western food in a week, and I missed it so much. I had no idea how much until I smelled pizza going in. I was torn between pizza and the burger and fries but the place was a pizza joint, so I went with that.

After our late lunch, we had a walking tour of Luxor. No planned activities today, just see the city and see what our options are and then do your own thing. Sam left us at the market in Luxor… oy… I have officially reached my limit. I was beset at every door I walked past. Hello, hello, hello… echoes down the street. “come in” “your friend is inside” “no hassle!” Sorry, you hassled me already. I’m trying very very hard not to take it the wrong way, to understand the cultural differences, etc. But I have really had my limit of the hard sale. I can handle that I have to bargain for prices, but I will not be jerked off the street. I just can’t deal with that. I finally reached my limit and left the group and walked back to Television Street and this internet cafe by the hotel to decompress a bit. I’ll tackle shopping in the market tomorrow or in another city.

Tomorrow morning, a group of us are taking a morning hot air balloon ride over Luxor. Really looking forward to that! Then a tour of the valley of the kings and lunch. Afternoon is free. A lot of choices to do, the local musuem, Queen Haptchetsupts (sp?) temple, the night light show at Karnac’s temple, and the Luxor temple. So, choices to make tomorrow! But the morning is planned out!

Hope everyone is having a great new year. I am, if a bit in a daze. If not for my watch, I wouldn’t even know the day of the week. A week from tomorrow I fly home, so I guess the trip is sort of half over.

I’m not sure how many more updates there will be. Sam told us today that Luxor is our last opportunity to visit ATM’s before we get back to Cairo (Friday). I know that two nights are at a Sawwa Camp on the Red Sea and I’d almost bet no internet there. I’ve enjoyed all the comments and e-mails and I look forward to catching up and am glad you all are enjoying this! Take care!

And after my quatro grande, I moved on to see the Trova concert in the park nearby…  I´m beginning to comprehend Mexican time.  I was an hour late…. it still hadn´t started…  It cost me the premo seats that the tourists have because they don´t know the darn things start late, but I sat for half an hour of it with the locals.  Part of it included the dancers from the other night. Same outfits and everything, just a different park.  Imagine their cleaning bill for those white outfits ever few nights, if not more!  After half an hour, I´d had plenty.  The guy who introduced each song had five minute long bits of dialogue that of course meant absolutely nothing to yours truly, and even the locals I was sitting with had some painfully tired expressions waiting for the next musical number.  Beautiful music, but with no comprehension of the lyrics, I can only sit there so long.  This trend will continue…  Thus ends yesterday.

So, surprise, this morning I rented a car and drove to Celestun.  Yes, Mark, driving in another country.  The world has stopped rotating, every one grab on to something now!

Background for those who don´t know, but I literally did not drive until I started college.  I just didn´t have the interest and lived in a small burg.  I drove my first time solo on my first day of college.  And although I was a late bloomer, I´ll probably be one of those little old people MANY MANY MANY years from now who someone will have to pry the keys from  my fingers.  That independence is hard to give up.  But whenever I´ve gone abroad, like magic, I´ve reverted to zero interest in driving.  It helps that everywhere I´ve been to date has EXCELLENT public transportation so I could make my way around oblivious to the need to be in control.  And honestly, if the USA was more like that, you´d probably see me shedding that control more often.  Well, Mexico is harder to get around than the rest.  I mean, sure, there are the buses, but when you have a fixed schedule, and little miscommunication could strand you heaven only knows where, well, it´s not so attractive.  I wanted to go to Celestun today, and I wanted to go on my terms.

I actually knew I was doing this two days ago.  I just failed to mention it for various reasons for fear of jinxing myself to giving my Mother a minor coronary.   Hopefully she´s still sitting upright as she´s reading this.  Surprise!

The experience was… mixed…  Being alone, in the end, it cost me more.  I could have booked a package tour for less than the $50 car rental and the $20 to re-fill the tank.  Plus I paid for a boat trip that would have been included.  I probably paid about $40 more than the package tour, and heaven knows the bus would have cost me less than $10.  But, I got to call the shots.  They included two missed turns and a lot of cursing as I attempted to correct them.  Both times I knew immediately, but when you hit streets that aren´t on a grid and miss a turn, as any Atlanta driver knows, it´s a nightmare to fix.  The main part of Merida is on a grid, but of course, my first missed term was past the grid…  Second missed turn was in the town of Uman, which if there was any sense to its streets, it escaped me.  But I ultimately arrived safely in my wee 90´s vintage nissan in the sleepy fishing village of Celestun.

It´s sleepy because it´s in the extreme edge of nowhere.  If it were any more nowhere,  it would be in the gulf of Mexico.  There´s a station in Merida that plays “solo hits en inglese” – so they say.  Some of the songs were never hits that I had heard, hit artists maybe but some of their worst stuff, and I could never figure out what “solo” means??  Hit singles I assume, but again, top 1000?  I digress, it was still wonderful to hear music I understood, so I stayed on that station all the way to Uman where it began to break up.  I pushed it as far as I could until I had to find the single spanish station I could pick up…  and then it ran out… and there was much silence…  deafening silence… silence that forced me to sing aloud the only songs I know by heart… Christmas carols… you should all be thankful to have missed that…   It was a good 40 minutes to Celestun with no music…   If being disconnected bothers you, stay far away.  If it´s your dream, I have found your destination.

Because the place itself, tho sleepy, is gorgeous.  Lovely white sand beach, gulf waters almost but not quite as pretty as the panhandle of Florida (nothing compares).  Nothing over two stories tall on the beach, and nothing but trees beyond as far as the eye can see (it´s actually part of  a wild life reserve).   I snapped photos on that beach for at least an hour.  I watched the few lazy beach bums set up their towels and a few people wade in.  I mean, we´re talking maybe a few dozen people and most of those were probably from the tour buses I parked beside.  And tho the sound of the ocean speaks to me deeply, I hit the point I always do… no desire to lay on the beach and not really prepared to swim…  what do I do now?!

Enter the bus tour…  Now, I had been told and had read you should go there with a group so that you can get enough people to make the tour reasonably priced.  You see, if there´s 8 people, it´s around $15 a person (maybe a little more if you are lucky enough to find a boat “captain” who speaks english).  I didn´t even hope to be so lucky.  But what I had hoped would happen worked out.  They needed an 8th person to fill out a boat and approached me!  So, no work on my part, just jump on the boat with 7 other people.  Two were couples traveling together, not sure of much about them, they spoke spanish and stuck together, so relatively speaking locals, I think.  The next three were a Swiss couple and their daughter.  The daughter spoke spanish.  The father spoke some english, so I got any information about what I was seeing third hand.  The parents have been here 5 weeks, the daughter 6 mos…  Wow, these European people get some real vacations… geez…

The boat was typically Mexican.  I have some photos of ones like it.  The boat is an old fiberglass boat worn a little tent canopy deal going (usually advertising some beer) and 4 benches, each with, I kid you not, mismatching plastic resin chairs with the legs sawed off and the remainder lashed by whatever means necessary to the bench.  The gas tank was a large plastic jug of which I had the pleasure to sit near.  When the captain, if the owner of such a vehicle can be called such, had a big plastic bag attached to the hose that ran from the tank to the motor (the only really capable looking part of the boat), and he would squeeze that bag to start the gas flowing.  I might add that he would periodically bail out water.  I could never see the source of it, but when he drove, he went like a bat out of hell, so we were constantly hit with water, so that may be it.

In the course of over 3 hours, we saw Flamingos (Celestun´s claim to fame is that the Flamingos stay there, hence the nature reserve, this time of year) and a pile of other birds.  We also saw a petrified forest and a mangrove swamp.  Some of the group went swimming there, but the Swiss family and I abstained.  The water was clear and beautiful blue but heaven only knows what all was living in amongst those roots, we saw tons of tropical fish and little crabs and even a nest in the trees with an eagle.

After all that were heading back.  The captain gave us the option of taking the boat back to the beach where we came from, or we could get off and walk back from this bridge he stopped at for a few minutes.  As I said, this was communicated to me third hand.  I ended up going with the Swiss family and walking back, but if I had understood that the walk back was in fact the same road I drove in on, I would have stayed in the boat!  Not much to see that way.

After about the promised seven minutes stroll, we got back to the main square.  I said adios to the Swiss family and went back for a couple of photos and a souvenir from the lone little artisan tent on the beach before going back to the car to figure out what was on next.

I had high hopes of also taking a drive through what Lonely Planet calls the Ruined Hacienda Route, which is full of these old decaying Hacienda´s from when sisal was king in the Yucatan.  Said to be very picturesque.  It was, however, after 4pm.  I could return the car to the garage anytime tonight and go by the office in the morning to square everything up, however, sun sets about 7:30 and I had zero interest in being out in the wilds of Mexico after dark as confusing as the roads are and as many of those blamed speed bumps as they put up willy nilly throughout the countryside.  See Mom, I have some common sense after all.

I got back here about 5pm.  I took advantage of having the car long enough to meander through one of the main cemetario since I wanted some photos of those grave/shrine things they have going here.  I really must read up more on this at some point as they literally are little shrines.  Some are small, some are big enough for a few people to go inside.  I thought they were mausoleums from the road, but it looked like most were shrines built atop graves.   I´ll share the snapshots at some point for those who care to see.  I didn´t take a lot as I wasn´t sure what the reaction would be to a gringo wandering through the cemetery taking pictures.

So, that´s pretty much today.  I dropped the car off well before closing and am square there.  Whew!   The car rental place was recommended, but it still had me a trifle worried no matter how nice they seemed at the outset.  Heavens, this morning, he showed me every nut and bolt on the car… you have thought he was giving his only daughter away or something.  It´s a car!  I´m used to America where they tell you where in the parking lot to find it and never bother to show you anything.  I mean, literally, “This is the key, it opens the doors, the gas tank, and you crank the car with it.”

Anyway, that experience done, I went shoe hunting one last time.  My sandals are totally past it and it´s so blasted hot it´s all I want to wear.  The beach trip was the end of them.  I found this shoe shop on the corner.  Again, I discover the Mexicans have yet to discover the joys of a good sports sandal… straps on toes, arch, and around the back… I mean, they have nice leather ones exactly like that but absolutely nothing completely casual…  So, I managed to find what they called sandals but just amount to fairly nice flip flops that will do.  And they fit… wow…  And I know this will make one person in particular out there laugh, biggest ones they had….  $8…

Tomorrow is up in the air.  I´ve been to a few tour companies, and they all started listing off  Chichen Itza (been there), Uxmal (ditto), and Celestun (would you like some sand?).  I finally found one that has a Hacienda tour, but of a working Hacienda that´s kind of like a living history exhibit.  uhmm….  not so sure…  On the good side, they also include a stop at one of the cenotes…  hrm…  Can´t decide but they are open until 11pm so I have a little time to think on it.

The hours of places here is just….  bonkers…  I think the heat and all has just totally changed people´s time clocks here.  If I eat dinner at 6pm, I am inevitably one of a few people there.  In the early afternoon, half of the town shuts down.  I mean, literally, I had to wait to check in with the car rental place because they close from like 1pm to 6pm but then stay open late.  Most everything is like this, close a few hours then open late.  So, at least it gives me time…

Tomorrow is the last full day here.  Sunday will be migrating to the airport and the flight back to the US.  I´ll miss being out here, seeing new things, but I´ll also be kind of glad to move on from Merida.  A beautiful place no doubt, but if I had longer in Mexico, there´s no doubt I´d have shoved on to a different spot even if I had to come back to fly out.   That´s how a lot of the people on the hostel circuit are doing it, of course, stopping over here on way elsewhere for a few days.

Okay, time to run!

Following that was nachos res from this nice little mom and pop place.  Well, it was run by a little old lady anyway.  I had to ask what res was… turned out it was beef, so sold.  Afterwars, I chased some sunset photos – absolutely gorgeous sunset last night, hopefully some good ones from the lot.  I needed to run around some more but a sunset needs a proper foreground.  And then I ambled around plaza grande for awhile before bed.

Today was a leisurely morning and I was picked up by an air conditioned van for my tour of Uxmal and Kabah.  This was definitely the golden oldies tour that I signed up for.  One couple was from Australia and have spent 5 weeks touring South and Latin America and are heading to Cancun tomorrow and then New York (only to catch a flight to Paris).  Must be nice!  These were the only English speakers on the group.  There was a couple from Argentina and a French couple from Paris.   My only foreign language study was French, and that has been… well… many years ago.  And I´ve yet to go to France.  I had some small hope that I´d remember enough if it ever came to it.  At first, they might as well have been speaking latin.  Nothing sounded familiar, just strings of meaningless gibberish and I was just astounded.  By lunch time, tho, it finally started to click.  Not that entire sentences had meaning but enough words in them did to pick up the meaning, a noun here and there, the right adjectives to make sense of what the comment was.  I never even attempted to resurrect my french fare enough to speak it.  I was content that I could comprehend just a bit of a conversation.  That was more than enough.

Uxmal and Kabah… wow… I know I say that a lot but…  you just have to see these things and imagine that people with no tools like we have today built these enormous temples and buildings and it´s just impossible to fathom.  I probably couldn´t build a habitable lean-to that would survive the first storm.  And these people built elaborate temples with intricate carvings.  You´ll just have to see the photos to get any idea.  Neither site was as large as Chichen Itza, and for that I have zero complaints.  I have walked more than enough for the moment.  Uxmal we covered in somewhere between two and three hours, and it was here that I finally got to climb a pyramid.  Not the tallest of the two there, but it was enough.  I purposefully didn´t look down on my way up, or really on my way down.  It´s amazing what concentrating on one step at a time can do because there were people who went down on their butt one step at a time.  When you see the photos of how steep it is, you´ll understand.  I am not exactly fond of heights myself, but for whatever peverse reason, you throw a temple or a cathedral that I can climb and I´m there.

Lunch, as I said, was with the tour group at a nice hotel restaurant by Uxmal.  If you have the desire to travel in style, you can wake up and see the pyramids from your window.  We didn´t eat there, but there is a club med literally across from the entrance to Uxmal.  I have to admit there´s some envy for being able to be there in the morning when it´s still cool.

Kabah, by contrast, is still in the re-building phase.  While some of these old places were found in varying degrees of being intact, it´s important to understand that much of what you see today is a 100+ years of restoration efforts.  Kabah is much earlier in that process, so there are a few structures to explore and little else.  We were there for about half an hour.  And as the days heat was upon us… no complaints.

Everyone took a nap on the ride back to Merida.  I think I startled the driver when I woke up before everyone else and leaned forward to get my water bottle.  I wanted to ask him about the small shrines I´d seen along the highways.  I saw MANY more of them in Northern Mexico a few years ago.  At the time, I was told they were not highway deaths but where miracles of some sort had happened. I don´t know what´s true or if they exist for different reasons there than in the Yucatan, but according to the driver, they were in fact highway deaths…  And since he knew the details of a few of them, I´m inclined to believe him.  He said the families erect them to honor their loved one(s).  Which gets to the subject of dying here.  I know the U.S. is death obsessed in a lot of ways.  We go to great lengths to sustain life past any reasonable expectation of quality of said life too often.  And death is handled by a whole cadre of people so that we never get our hands dirty with it.  And I´m by no means throwing stones at my glass house here.  Just observing.  Here, the cemeteries, and I´ve seen quite a few now, are just… alive with color…  They erect veritable shrines in these places the likes of which our perpetual care cemeteries with the flat bronze plaques will never know. I hope maybe to chance on one when I can take photos before I leave, but don´t hold your breath.  ´

The color is interesting as well because it reminds me of the ruins.  Today, we see them and they are stone objects.  If there´s any color, it´s cool white.  But according to the guide and what I´ve read, not the case in their original lives.   Everything was plastered over and painted, down to the walkways, a riot of colors, bright and alive.  The same can be said of the Romans.  If you visit Heculaneum or Pompeii, you can still see the bright colors they filled their lives with, but I digress.  Much of what we build today, is by contrast, so bland.  We build in classical styles that are often anything but…

Anyway, back to the ever popular subject of death, I have also managed to see a couple of passing hearses… and the first time or two, I didn´t pick up on what they were because they were,  well, pick-up trucks…  Somber vehicles with covered backs, but unmistakable trucks.  I realized what one was only because of the context I saw it in… at a funeral home…  I´ve seen two now.  One was a gorgeous old home.   The phone booth by the front door made me pause and that´s when I saw the stacks of coffins in the front windows…  Window shopping anyone?  The next place was far less upscale.  Based on the seats in the window, I first thought it was a laundry or a bus station.  Then, yep, stacks of coffins, the most non-somber things I´ve ever seen, trimmed in laces and various colors.  Light years from anything back home.

So, that´s dying in the Yucatan.  The rest of it, the everyday life, is living.  And our driver today took us through the smallest little town you could imagine.  You could see there was electricity, but they were still doing laundry by hand.  Tonight´s dinner was still in the yard.  And everyone we met came with a smile.  Be it ever so humble…

Tomorrow is Celestun, at last.  Saturday, I dunno.  I think I´m going to see if I can either get to some cenotes or another archaeological site or something.

It´s funny, if I was a halfway decent writer, most of my posts could have been from my living room.   Just a string of words on a screen, nothing more, nothing less.  But hopefully it´s infused with a little zest from being out here and enjoying not knowing what´s next exactly.  I´ll catch up with where I really am a bit later.

After yesterday´s post, I didn´t do Chili´s.  I hear a roar of approval from the crowd.  I meandered down to a place called El Trapiche that was recommended in Lonely Planet.  Now, it´s not as if I had Yucatan food.  In fact, the appetizer was chips and a variety of salsas.  So, I guess my appetizer was native.  Some of those sauces were blazing hot and I went through my first bottle of coca rapido!  My meal was.. pizza…  yes…  and of the various types, I chose American pizza…  and…  it was YUMMY but so not American.  The cheese was… not sure… as I said good… but not American.  And it was covered in what I think was ham, where I would expect peperoni.  But it was dang filling and that was what I was looking for after traipsing all over Chichen Itza for nearly 4 hours.  I was too hot to even consider lunch.  So, I needed that big meal.

Afterward, back to the hostel and sat out on the patio.  There was a guy playing his guitar and singing.  I think it was the promised ¨trova¨ – not sure, but it was nice.  The audience was English (me) and French (everrrybody else) speaking so I´m not sure any of us got much out of it but it was nice to listen to while reading.

From there to bed.  Watched a quick cartoon on my media player while icing my knee and went to bed.  So far, so good with the knee by the way.  I think my feet are distracting me from any pain.

Woke up plenty early enough this morning to trudge over to the bus station for a run to Celestsun.  Showered, had breakfast and went to put on my shoes… oy… yeh… my feet were barking.  I wanted to wear my sandals and they were pressing on all sorts of sensitive spots. I started really examining them and the inner soles are worn through in places I hadn´t really noticed.  And this seems to be a theme with my Mexico trips as I left a pair here last time when I was in Peurto Penasco.  There was no way I was wearing the boots to the beach and the sandals are nigh dead.  So, I decided my body is telling me two things, no major walking today (irony coming) and I need some new sandals.  I figure Wal-mart is not far away, I can get some sandals and on the way back it will be time for the Anthropological museum to open, which is along the way.  The beach can be another day.

And off I go, delightfully unburdened.  I have had to stow my bag at enough museums, so I locked up the camera and went with just me and my wallet.  Got to Wal-mart and discovered two things.  First was a woeful low assortment of sandals.  The second was…  yeh, there´s a drawback to towering over better than half the populace and that´s when you try to buy clothes.  I found plenty of sandals that were too small and ONE solitary pair that was too big.  And I repeated this experiment at two more stores before I gave up.  I bought some soft adhesive things you are supposed to wrap your foot in and used them to line the bottom of my sandals.  And yeh, I think I just gave entirely too much information, but you can guess what I´m doing when I get back to Atlanta.

Before the sandal alteration, I did stop by the Anthropology Museum.  It´s a pretty nice place.  Nothing earth shattering, but for the equivalent of $3.70 what are you expecting?  It was two floors of exhibits of the Maya from pre-history to today.  The today part would be a video on body alteration practices we´d all be familiar with in the states (piercings and tatoos) as a contrast to the practices of the ancient Maya (forehead flattening, tatooing, and scarification).  It was in Spanish, so I could only look at the pictures.  However, a great deal of the museum is translated.  The English is not perfect, but really their primary audience is not gringos, so it´s appropriate.  Nothing as funny as yesterday´s signs on the bus, “Thank you for travel us¨and “Do not forget your own.”

I digress, the museum had a delightful amount of English and a staff that was willing to help, some spoke English.  Incredible carvings and findings from Chichen Itza, Uxmal, and much of the Yucatan Maya are there.  If you speak Spanish, there was much more to read, albeit there was enough in English for a two hour visit.

Back to the hostel for the famous sandal operation and then back to the streets with a bottle of water and plans to go see the zoo mentioned in Lonely Planet.  Lonely planet informs that the zoo is free and 12 blocks west from the grand plaza.  The book states you may take a bus.  It should be changed to, “Dear god, if it´s summer and you are not an olympic athelete, for the love of pete, please find a bus.”

Can you guess I walked?  This was the irony I promised a few paragraphs ago.  See, I deliver on my promises!  I walked, because 12 blocks seemed like nothing.  Well, I don´t know what 12 blocks they were counting, but it clearly was not Merida´s blocks.  I figured this out after leaving Calle 62 and arriving at Calle 80-something.  Clearly, this is not 12 blocks as the Meridans measure them.  But now, it was a challenge.  I would find the zoo.  I kept going.  I had long since become the lone gringo.  I was never concerned.  The Meridans have been unfailing in their hospitality.  I´ve finally isolated that there are ones that take advantage of that kind nature to try to foist trinkets on you, but the kindness seems genuine.  I had a long conversation with an old gent in the square today that never entered the world of commerce.  And when I finally got to Parque Centarrio, home of the world famous Merida zoo, well, it was a free zoo, that should give you some idea, right?  It reminded me much of my one and only visit to the Atlanta zoo in the 1970´s.  Caged animals behind fences with very little room.  The monkeys have about the same amount of room as the tigers as some sort of large rodent looking creature I couldn´t identify.  Clearly, the animals aren´t kept in any sort of enclosures that fit their nature.  The cats I was quite attuned to how restless they were.  The lion let out a might roar while I was there when a lioness stepped on him.  I saw some cool creatures.  the turtles were fabulous, and I saw a croc close enough I could have reached to him and lost a finger (I´m not kidding, this was totally the honor system, you value your digits, you keep them to yourself).   So, that´s what you have if you ever have an interest to visit the Merida zoo.

Having walked there, I decided to complete my own personal trail of tears and walked back.  By the time I saw buses with “centro” on them I was a couple of blocks from the main square anyway.  And that more or less ends today.  I may or may not walk to the city museum.  I may or may not take a city tour.  I may or may not go back to the hostel and curl up into a ball and apologize to my feet for my indiscretions.

But tomorrow morning at 9am, an aire accondicionado bus is coming to pick me up at the front of the hostel and drag my tired butt to the ruins of Uxmal and Kabah (yeh, I realized later that I said I was going to Kabul when I wrote yesterday´s post – not quite!).  If you didn´t notice, you´re obviously just skimming.  If you noticed and just assumed it was spelled the same, no, I´m brain dead.

Later gators!

I had food I can´t identify.  It was good, but all I know is it was the #8.  Forgive me, but I saw a Chilli´s and I think I may know where tonight´s meal is.  I would just kill for a big burger now.  But I´m skipping ahead.

Last night was some sort of big dance festival thing downtown.  I wasn´t really sure what to expect, but it could have been straight out of Zorro.  Men in white suits, panama hats and some sort of funky sandals with heels, and ladies with white dresses covered in embroidered white flowers, also in high heels and with enough make-up to satisfy any American teenage daughter´s wildest dreams.    But lest I detract from the dancing… wow…  I mean… wow…  The dances got wilder and wilder.  Early in the show they danced with bottles on their head.  That was just to warm us up for what was to come later, a full tray full of glasses and bottles.  I think I got one decent shot of that.  You have to see to believe it, but you´ll have to wait for that.  There was also a may pole… yes… a may pole, or whatever they call it here, covered in flowers and ribbons.  And the dancers weaved in and amongst each other winding their different colored ribbons together.  And what could top that?  Reversing the dance and un-winding them perfectly…. they did this over and over…   Definitely a mind blower and worth the fact it started over half an hour ¨late¨ – which I´m slowly grasping is a state of mind.

After that was bed as I had grand plans, I tell you GRAND plans today of catching the 6:30am bus to Chichen Itza.  I hear a few of you snickering out there.  I know what you´re thinking, and unfortunately, you´re entirely correct that I was nowhere near the bus station a good mile from my Hostel at 6:30am.  Try… oh…. 8am…. that´s close right?  See it´s all a state of mind.

Having missed the first class bus I´d hoped for, I settled on a second class bus.  Getting a bus here at all.. eek!  I mean, the station is the most confusing thing ever, and I previously awarded that title to the train station in Naples, Italy.  Nope, not close.  Lines all over the place, no clue what they are for, and the place was definitely aimed only (and fairly) at the Spanish speaking public.  But having maneuvered through all this, I discovered that I was better off taking the second class bus as it would get me there before the next first class.  The second class bus back home we would call a local, meaning it stops anywhere it can to pick up passengers.  I´ve had one Grayhound experience back home and this did not compare.

On one hand, this was one of the nicest buses ever.  If I had to kill two hours, the air con splendor of this bus and the reclining seats were where I´d have chosen.  As I waited for my bus in the second class lounge with no AC, I seriously began to fear what the next two hours had in store, but the bus was just lovely.  But in the course of the ride, I definitely saw how the other three quarters of the earth live….  I don´t entirely have words for what I saw…  Dilapidated homes, shacks that were more screen than concrete block, I lost count of the number of old huts that had their straw roofs replaced with rusty tin.  It was humbling to say the least.  Among the buses passengers, we stopped once for a man with piles of shiney new tin roofing which went into the luggage hold and a little old lady with flowers.  I never saw the man get off (and the bus didn´t finish it´s run in Chichen Itza) so no clue where his home might have been, but I did see the little old lady exit.  This was at a stop outside of a cemetery, where one supposes she had family.  It was an interesting sight to say the least, like Miami and New Orleans had merged, the most decript mauseoleums all painted in bright, hot pastels.  Despite the intense middle class guilt, it was something I wouldn´t trade.  The bus would stop in little towns I´ll never see again and little old men would jump on the bus loaded with baskets of food I feared to trust.

And finally, we arrived at Chichen Itza.  Aside from the guides I´d seen get on the bus along the way, everyone else off there were gringos.   So, I paid my $9 entrance and decided to do Chichen Itza solo, no guide.  I figured I was going to be enjoying some time with those ruins and my camera and I could make do reading the lovely English plaques and my lonely planet guide.  Considering what a death march it must have been for people with guides, I have to say I´m glad for my choice.   Chichen Itza was a little jarring, too.  First, I was finally getting used to pesos and the exchange rate and darned fi they kept referring to everything as dollars, but MOST of the time, they really meant pesos….  so confusing…  And all throughout the site, you were pummeled by locals selling things.  Incredible little masks, carvings, trinkets, etc.  And they would all yell “one dollar, one dollar!”  I had already made my couple of purchases in the gift shop, so I was afraid to ask if they really meant one dollar (10 pesos) or if the meant one peso… which is well, like a dime, I guess…  I haven´t bothered with any of the currency that translates into less than a dollar.. just too confusing…  But boy were they everywhere, men, women, children, all out trying to sell to the tourists.  Having seen so much of the living conditions along the way, one could imagine too well, why.  I even had one guy offer me a lovely carving for my watch…  my two year old nothing special wal-mart watch that I only wear on trips (anyone who knows me knows I hate watches, this one hangs from belt loops).  I digress… that was Chichen Itza…  The spectacle is more than just the ancient and incredible pyramids, the giant ball courts where the losers really lost (their lives) and wonder after wonder of the ancient Americas.

Near the end, I stopped for my umpteenth bottle of water at this little gift shop.  I happened to end up sitting with a couple from Canada.  We exchanged itineraries, etc.  They had come from Cancun (Chichen Itza is somewhere between Merida and Cancun).  They considered Georgia exotic and longed to go to Savannah some day.  True to most people traveling, they want to see somewhere I live near and have never been (well, the interstate through there at night once, which I don´t really count).

I never made it to the largest Cenote  at Chichen Itza.  The cenotes are common on the peninsula and are giant natural sinkholes from which the Maya got water and ascribed a spiritual meaning.  The only good thing about a guide would have been seeing that.  As it was,  I got confused and lost track of which direction it was.  By that time, it was mid afternoon and my body had quite enough.  I had seen all the structures and the second biggest cenote, I didn´t need a hole in the ground to make my day complete.

I stumbled back to the main entrance and got my ticket back.  True to form for the day, I just missed the first class bus and took a second class bus back.  Wandered back through mostly the same path I came in.  Now exhausted tho, and I kept nodding off.  for those who don´t know, my dad was a high school coach for years and I spent my early years on buses.  As it is, they make me sleepy, but that extra exhaustion was it.  I only woke up because they kept coming to check on tickets…  sheesh!  I had my ticket checked once on the way to Chichen and at least 4 times on the way back.

On my way back, I stopped by a  travel agency recommended by Lonely Planet and Thursday am booked on a bus tour with guide and all for Uxmal and Kabul, more maya sites.  I figured I´d take it easy on myself at least one day.  The bus will even pick me up from Nomadas where I´m staying.  $35 well spent…

Tomorrow, the plan is to get up to Celestsun and take in the ocean views and the Flamingos.  No clue what else is on tonight, but we´ll see.  Maybe exhaustion style sleep after dinner…

After dinner (chicken sandwich at a place called “Wannaburger” or something like that – probably a chain by the look of it), I went back to the hotel, relaxed a little and added a layer. I was at the nearest gate around 7pm… not even open?? Huh? Followed the crowds to another. This one open but letting no one in, sketchy details. Crowd continued to one of the main gates on Princes Street. Princes Street, for explanation sake, is a wide open huge boulevard. For most of the length of it, there are shops on only one side. The other side opens into the gardens and the view of the Castle and Old Town. I think this explains the incredible winds whipping down that street Had felt nothing like it on the streets in Old Town.

When I say the wind was whipping, I mean people were leaning into it, and it held them up. Metal fences flew over and I saw a group of port-a-potties fly across the street inside the barricades. According to the BBC news this morning, they recorded 70+ mph winds in the heart of the city. At any rate, quite impressive and amazing to see. People were standing all over the streets, playing in the wind and seeking shelter. For maybe a minute, I joined some under a covered bus stop until I noticed that it was moving a bit in the wind… probably nothing, but still…

I moved a bit to a side street where another entrance was. Since it was a narrower street, the winds were diminished. And on this one, the guards had better details. The event was not canceled yet. They were waiting to see if the winds would die down. If so, they’d let everyone in. So, everyone waited. I stood under the eves of the nearest building near the cops. This is where I heard the whole deal was cancelled for the weather.

Trudged back up to the North Bridge and back across to Old Town. Stopping briefly, I snagged some crisps, a coke, and a bag of jelly babies (candy for the unitiated). I headed back to my room. By now, I was thoroughly and truly soaked. In no mood to even try to find somewhere to ring it in. So, I watched a movie and ate until it was time for the equivalent to Dick Clark’s New Years Rocking Eve to come on.

That was actually amusing. Both the ones I found were Scottish broadcast. One was kind of a dinner party setting?? And has apparently been on for around 50 years… The one I chose was broadcast live from the great hall at Edinburgh Castle, literally over the hill from where I was. So, I chose that one. Lots of musical acts, mostly traditional, but some modern pop that I hadn’t heard (because it was pop HERE).

I’ll try to spare you anymore of my living life on the edge here.

The Aftermath

Woke up reasonably early today and managed to get out early, much to my chagrin since nothing was open before noon. So, I meandered up the main drag after breakfast watching them tear down the barricades and all from last light. Mostly a gray day and quite cool when the wind hits, but there werea few rays of sunshien and even a rainbow at one point!

The Rainbow is getting ahead of things chronilogically. When things finally opened, I took a brief run through Debenhams, a department store, to see what they had on sale. I got a hat there two years ago. Even with the sales prices today of the things I looked at, the exchange rate meant I was being robbed blind.

From there to the National Gallery – free admission! This is the way things should be. In the UK, most galleries and museums are FREE. They do charge for limited exhibitions and the like, but the main galleries are free. The Scots should be proud of their gallery. I sat down in one room as my feet are dragging, and in front of me was a Van Gogh, a Degas, and a Monet… wow… That really is just a fraction of the familiar names and I’m sure if I was any real art afficianado, I’d have recognized far more. This is actually day two of art fest as yesterday I saw a Canalleto exhibit at the Queen’s Gallery at Holyrood (that was not free, but it was WARM).

The National Gallery adjoins the Royal Scottish Academy Building, which was hosting their annual exhibition of the water colors of Joseph Mallord William Turner. I discovered his oil paintings at the National Gallery in London. If I like something enough to hold on to the artist’s name, that says something. So, had to take that in. Excellent work. I was amazed by the depth in some of his water colors. Just amazing images and because of the potential damage to displaying them, they are shown just once a year, January. How fortuitous!

Now, I’m just completely dragging. Over two hours walking the galleries, plus time on my feet before and after (one of those brief moments of sunlight and the rainbow where I was out with my camera for a bit).

Next on the olde agenda is finding some grub, and going back to the hotel to pack. I have to get up actually early in the morning, not faux early like this morning. I have to be at the Haggis office a few blocks from where I’m staying by 8am. If I don’t get some rest, no way I’m hoisting that pack up that hill! Then it’s on to six days and five nights meandering through the North of Scotland. Not sure if/when there will be more updates other than definitely when I’m back in Edinburgh (three more nights here before heading back to the states).

Hope everyone’s New Year is off to a great start!

Was supposed to meet Aaron and June here at the hotel so far as I know, but I waited half an hour past our planned meet time and had neither call nor sight of them. With no idea how to get them since they were also on the move, I went ahead and went off on my own. Hours later as I emerged from the Redwoods, I got a voicemail. I’m not sure when it was, but it sounded like they had overslept. I’m guessing, but I’m sure I’ll find out later. Hated missing them, but hopefully will get the chance to catch up with them in the future.

Didn’t make it to the Redwoods for sunrise. I managed to stop at a scenic overlook for that. It was beautiful, not breath-taking, but nice. The sky was really overcast, the valleys below filled with fog.

I dont think I would have made it to the Redwoods even if I had left on time. The road in was winding, but I’ll get back to that. It also was moot. As one of the rangers said that the fog and clouds were pretty normal and don’t burn off until 11am or so. So, the sunrise I was looking for probably didn’t exist anyway.

Ah, the winding roads. I’ve now taken three “scenic routes” in as many states, and I definitely believe they should be subtitled.

Scenic Routes
You Could Die!

If you’re bracing yourself for some horror story, there isn’t one. There’s just a lot of switchback roads going up and down mountainsides. The compass in the car becomes meaningless. You may be heading west, but now you’re heading southeast. Now you’re heading north, now you’re heading west. Nope, back to the south. It’s pretty bad when they get so tired of doing signs for these loops that they just throw up a picture of a snakey road and says “next 6 miles” under it. It’s beautiful, I expect, if you’re a passenger who doesn’t get car sick easily. But as the driver, it’s just a pain.

Oh, did I mention in the case of the winding road going into Big Basin, it’s one lane wide? Oh yes, it is, but it’s still a two way road. So, as you creep around the curves, you pray anyone you’re meeting is creeping as well. Luckily I was so early I never met anyone anyway.

Hitting bottom, I paid my $6 for a day of parking. And grabbing my camera gear, I walked into the redwood forest, home of the tallest living things on earth. They are, no question, impressive. Beautiful. Gigantic! But after a couple of hours, you stop looking up everytime you hit a giant. Or at least I do. I started down another trail network and after half an hour, I hit a wall, a metaphorical one anyway. I hadn’t had breakfast, and the energy level just fell out. I checked one of the posts to see what was ahead. There were a few different directions to go. The most interesting one was a waterfall. It was nearly 4 miles away. Okay, that’s a bit over an hour for me at my best speed. So, two hours round trip. And I was starving. I decided I could see waterfalls at home. I also decided that I had seen enough of the great redwoods. See them yourself if in the area. Totally worth it, but if, like me, you can only hike among them so long, take solace that there is more to do.

So, I went back to the main area and got a sandwich and chips in the store there. As I refilled my own gas tank, I contemplated what was next on the agenda. And I decided I was definitely heading on.

The road in continued out and south, so that was my direction. Eventually I go on state road 9 and continued south through more winding roads, packed with mountain bikers. I do mean packed, too. There would be sections of the road with probably two dozen or more cars with empty bike racks parked in little dirt areas on the edge. The road also winded through some charming little towns. Some reminded me a bit of home in flavor if not terrain.

Finally hit Santa Cruz where I was planning to take state road 1 up the coast. In Santa Cruz, however, I found a beautiful beach and spent a couple of hours there wandering the rocky coast. I totally lost track of time. The rhymic pounding of the waves seemed to seep in and for awhile, I was just sort of there. I guess somewhere in there, I’m a sea person and I didn’t realize it. But as I sat there and thought about the places I remembered fondly, they generally involved the ocean. The roads even seem non death-like there.

After getting what I think may be some killer pics of a surfer (no time to go through the over 500 pictures I took yet), I decided to move on up the coast. I stopped at several places, but the most beautiful was this deep cove with high rocky walls and a couple of monolithic rocks jutting up in the middle of the blue pounding waves. There was a small beach and a handful of people. I wandered around the rim, taking pictures and trying to figure out how the heck they got down there. Half an hour later and I had yet to spot the path until I saw a couple heading down a spot I had previously dismissed as being possible. Having seen it, I went and put the tripod back in the car, figuring I didn’t need the additional weight. I was mainly going down because I wanted to be able to say I had put my tootsies in the Pacific ocean. The path down was winding but not trecherous. But I’m sure few people would try it which explains the dozen people down there. Down at the bottom, I sincerely wished I had brought my sandals with me, but they aren’t really worth of hiking. I pulled of my shoes and socks and tied them onto my camera bag and went out to let the sea come to me. I took photos of course, and enjoyed the relative peace and quiet down there. I could have stayed for hours, but I wanted sunset pictures and there was no way I was climbing out of there in the dark.

So back to the road. Next stop was Año Nuevo State Reserve further up the road. Discovered that you pay once per day to park at any state park! Granted, how many can you really take time to see in a day, but that was cool. There were two signs of interest when I came into the park, one saying to watch out for endangered snakes (oh, I will!) and the other instructing you not to take anything, not even shells or rocks from the reserve.  I wanted to see the elephant seal colony there. The hike in is about two miles. Normally that’s a half hour for me. But between being tired and trudgign up dry sand dunes, it was a long hike. And the joke is on the park service, I must have left with half a sand dune in my shoes!  Come and get it!  Just don’t bring the endangered snakes.

I came to a fork in the trail with two beach alternatives. I chose the further one. I was, I guess masochistic, but I figured further might be better and I could do the other one on the way back. Well, I arrived at the further one. NO elephant seals at all and I could see the people at the other beach 25 feet away from the suckers! Dang it!

So, I started back and at this point started to notice the “nice” ruddy color I’m turning. Yes, hours in the sun equals sunburn. I should be old enough to know this, but back home it’s boiling hot so I stay out of the sun period. So, this was a lovely surprise. Thank goodness I wore my hat. Just wish it was the floppy one so that my neck wasn’t burnt… I’ve had far worse, but I’m a toasty red now and a tad tender. Oh well, another souvenir.

When I got to the lower beach, they were wrapping things up, but one of the guides took me out for a quick walk to see the seals. I really appreciated as he didn’t have to do it.  I’m not sure I picked an optimal time to see them.  This is the time of the year they molt.  The beach was literally covered in chunks of skin and pelt.  The creatures themselves are amazing.  The mammoth one I saw up close weighed in the neighborhood of 2,500 pounds and he wasn’t quite an adult yet.  Adult males can weigh up to 5,000 pounds.  Zounds!

I headed back to the car and further up the beach. I was still looking for that spot for the sunset. Found another more crowded beach and went out for some shots and to scope out a possible spot for the sunset. Nothing grabbed me, but my shoes got soaked by a surprise wave… great.. So, after stripping them off and knocking out the sand, I was with damp shoes the rest of the evening and no desire to wear them. I went on until I found what I thought would be a great spot, Pescadero beach.

Sat in the car until sunset really kicked in and then wandered down to the rocks with everyone else. I got some really great shots of the sunset. I think the ones in Mexico a couple of years ago were still the best, but the sky was mostly clear and the sky turned an awesome shade of red as the sun dipped past the horizon. And for my part, I lost my lens cap in the sand somewhere. I hunted for it a bit before I decided it was a bit too much effort with no flashlight and for something that costs like $5.

So I headed up state route 1 to catch 84 back east. Enter next winding road of death. In the dark no less. This was just completely uncool, but short of going on up to close to San Francisco, the most direct route back to San Jose. It was probably 45 minutes or so of winding roads, and the only welcome sight was at the top of the acent, I could see the city stretched out on the horizon. Of course, that was just followed by more winding roads on the way down. Finally hit the freeway and headed back to my hotel area. Picked up some drive-thru and re-filled the car for today’s drive to Monterey.

Time to shower and pack again. The onlyt hing definitely on today’s agenda is getting Jackie and heading to Monterey to meet up with other co-workers for our meeting tomorrow. And Jackie and I are going on a whale watching boat trip. Let’see how much skin do I have left to burn….