Recharge. I think this one word adequately describes the time we spent in San Francisco from the night of October 12th to the afternoon of October 19th, when we departed SFO International Airport for a connecting flight through Seattle to Honolulu, Hawaii. San Francisco was a time of psychological and literal preparation taht allowed the journey to continue. It is an interesting reality that the journey had been as much external as internal up to the point that we arrived to San Francisco. We saw a lot of different things, meanwhile in the interior, I grappled with the reasons for and prudency of making such a journey in such difficult economic times. Perhaps some of you have asked the same questions while following or reading up on our journey. I admit that I have struggled to keep up with the blog because of this internal journey that has forced me to contemplate every move and think out every possible contingency along the way. For this reason, San Francisco turned out to be just what we needed. The first night, after a 9pm or so arrival, we sat with Becky, Tim, and Taylor and briefly discussed our reasons for making the journey. I came to realize that this is a dream and a hope that have lived inside me all the way back to undergrad, when my idealistic friend Mike Rudzinski and I set the groundwork for this very undertaking by discussing the feasibility of, and reading up on other persons' trips around the world. Flash forward to last night at the luau here in Hawaii - I had a great conversation with a man originally from Montreal, Canada (though he did not speak French). When I commented "C'est bien!" he responded "NO!" Regardless, his response to my description of our trip was to describe his own, undertaken many years prior when he had finished his undergraduate education. We discussed how much fear there is in the world today, or is it perhaps in the United States alone? I simply beg the question. There is so much to see in the world out there, why do we deprive ourselves of the opportunity to see it? And yet, my affirmation of my need to make this trip has been shaky at times, and I am grateful to all of you who have been supportive in encouraging us along. Sometimes there are things in life that we just have to do, and if we deny ourselves the opportunity, we will spend the rest of our lives thinking "what might have been" or about "the one that got away." There are a lot of songs about this actually. How many do we hear about people actually accomplishing what they set out to achieve, jumping off into the unknown of seeking to fulfill the dreams in the deepest places of their hearts? I am not saying that there aren't any, and if you think of some good ones please put some links in the comments section of this post.
My point in all of this is that SF was a time for a bit of sight-seeing, but more a time for reflection and an analysis of what we are doing, and I have come out able to say that I glad for the opportunity to do what we are doing. I am becoming a more confident person, able to confront my fears, and articulate my dreams and desires. Upon my return I have no idea what I will do, but I believe that the doors will open themselves to me. I believe that they have no other choice if we but have the fortitude to go after the deepest desires in our hearts!
Wednesday, October 13th, 2010
Thus we spent the first day lying around Taylor's basement apartment, reflecting on and processing all that we had beheld in the preceding days and preparing ourselves for the time to come. That night I also heard from long-time friend Kris Egan, who informed me that Fr. Ev Hemann, a long time friend and former pastor from St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church in Ames, Iowa, was in fact on sabbatical in Menlo Park, just south of where we were staying in Berkeley. Thus I got into touch with him and we coordinated a nice tour of SF for the next day.
Thursday, October 14th, 2010
This day, we got up early, around 7:30am or so, to walk to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station and catch the train from N. Berkeley to the Embarcadero station on the bay of the city of San Francisco. While there, we ventured out onto Pier 14 and enjoyed the sun rising gently above the surprisingly impressive skyline of "the city." In short order, the Toyota Avalon proudly bearing the cyclone-and-gold-colored STA1 license plate pulled up, and we were off for a whirlwind tour of the city. We saw the Coit Monument, the crookedest street in the world, rode on a cable car, climbed Twin Peaks (from which we could see the entire Bay Area), drove around pretty much entirely all day, and then lunched at a Chinese restaurant with Fr. Ev, and two of his friends who ended up being from Chicago and Australia: Fr. Vince and Fr. James respectively. Together they treated Daniel and I to lunch, and then we were off to see the gay neighborhood centered around Castro St. And from there we hit the train back to Berkeley, where we came in, made some eggs with avocadoes and hot sauce (a great combination by the way) and settled in for the night.
Friday, October 15th, 2010
Throughout this whole time, we were attempting to sell my Neon, and so we took some trips to car dealerships to see about how much we could get for it, which would in turn be leveraged against future expenses down the line. I was also fielding phone call responses to my Craigslist ad, which ultimately was the medium by which I ultimately sold the vehicle at the eleventh hour. The first call came after a day of sightseeing in Berkeley on that Friday night. I believe I received the call around 11pm, and the person on the phone asked me about the car and seemed pretty confident that it was exactly what he was looking for, however when he learned that "standard transmission" in fact meant a "manual" or "stick" transmission, he was fairly certain that it was not going to work out for him.
This is essentially what Friday consisted of - the car. We took a trip to Richmond, farther north in the East Bay portion of the greater San Francisco metropolitan area. We visited a place that bought cars and met a nice guy named Michele from Lebanon (if I am not mistaken). As it turned out, even he had made some trips to Australia, and so gave me some tips when I told him of our plans. He also made the first offer on the car, though I was ultimately able to settle later on a better price on my own. A very nice gentleman to be sure. As it turns out California is quite possibly one of the most inconvenient places in the world to have a car. I do not remember very well what the requirements were in New York City, as I am sure they are similar, however Cali requires a SMOG test, which the car owner has to pay for, before the car can be registered with the state, which also has to verify the environmentally friendly nature of the vehicle. Not to mention that the cost for doing all of these tests is astronomically more expensive than they would be in Rockford, Illinois. Though I have come to appreciate the beauty of other parts of the world, I will always recall Rockford as a very thrifty place to grow up. And just wait until I get back, because I have about a thousand ideas of how to make the area more interesting and I am going to slam them into place!!!!
After Michele's place, we headed to a nearby Dodge dealership, which manager did not make an offer, but gave me a similar value on the car to what Michele had said. We then hit up one last Honda dealership on the way back to Berkeley, where we encountered some good traffic, and thus got back to the house fairly late. No go there either without paying for a SMOG test and then registering the vehicle. I was somewhat bummed...
Saturday, October 16th, 2010
However the following day I received a call in the morning from Ulysses. I will never forget his name, I mean honestly how can you ever forget a name like that? We agreed to meet the following morning at Tim and Becky's place so that he could see the car, and he even knew that the car was a manual transmission. The whole plan ultimately turned out to be a no go, he never showed Sunday morning at the agreed 9am time. Life's like that. However I did receive a call later Saturday, after I had successfully toured UCal Berkeley's campus in an hour and bought the blue Cal hat that you see appearing in the pictures, and turned out to be a great topic of conversation later on. As it turns out, a team I really don't care about, played a game I never saw, in which they lost 48-14 to USC. It seems that everyone else in SF was privvy to this information, whereas I only liked the hat. Lead to some nice conversations though. Great times!
Later that night I received a call from a guy who turned out to be Nepalese, who was helping a friend of his, who spoke significantly less English, to buy a car. As they resided in Berkeley, we met them at a random ice cream stand and they took a look over the car. It was a pretty standard showing until the buyer's friend wanted to take it for a test drive. This is when things got interesting. I give him the key, he turns it, and nothing happens. The conversation ensues:
Me: "You need to push in the clutch while you turn the key."
Him: "The clutch?"
Me: "Yes, it's the the third pedal from the right."
Him: "There's three pedals?!?!"
Suffice it to say this ended in a good laugh for Daniel and I, but no sale.
One thing I forgot to mention is that earlier that day, after my whirlwind tour of UCal Berkeley, I drove up the mountain right behind campus, and after reaching a satisfactory summit, proceeded to journal, then walk away, leaving my camera behind. I then drove all the way back to Tim and Becky's place while it sat on a trunk overlooking the entire bay area. Oops! But if anyone tells you that people in SF or Berkeley are dishonest, I say boo, because when I got back to the top with my brother about an hour later, the camera had quite obviously been examined by someone, but had been left behind so that I could reclaim it. Thankfully so! I was hoping that I would at least lose it or have it stolen in a foreign country!
We then headed back and enjoyed the Marina where we met an interesting woman, who herded three dogs and told us the interesting story of her life. A mocking picture of the guardian monument, a walk out on the pier, some baseball played with sticks and pine cones, some pics, and a conversation with a 16 year old windsurfer later, we headed back to the house to enjoy a bbq rib dinner, with an amazing salad and some great potatoes that we purchased at the Berkeley Bowl, one of the most amazing supermarkets I have ever been to. Ah fresh fruit and organic produce, it does not get much better!
Dinner was amazing, then we exchanged some knowledge and books and settled in for our evening movies.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
After my car appointment never showed, we headed to a nearby church, where the pastor waiting outside asked us, "You do know this is a Spanish mass?" to which we assented and then entered for a beautiful sacrifice of the mass in a truly beautiful language. After 11am mass, well headed back and had a nice brunch of more avocadoes and eggs. We then headed into the city and drove all the way across to the Golden Gate Bridge (there is video of this that will be posted very soon). From there we headed to Muir Woods, where we hiked amid the amazingly huge redwoods or "sequoias" and then headed back down into the city itself. We then met up with my friend Diana Kirsanova-Phillips and enjoyed a traditional Russian dinner at the restaurant Sadko. I would highly recommend it, and I thank Diana for a splendid evening!
We headed back and enjoyed a relaxing evening at the house.
Monday, October 18th, 2010
This was the day I received the call that led to the selling of the car. A young woman by the name of Ty called and informed me that she was in need of a car to carry her and her three children across the United States to Georgia. She called me in the morning, and so I headed off to wash the car, and then waited for her bus to arrive at one of the BART stations. When she saw the car, she knew it was exactly what she wanted, and so decided to go for it, without requesting any of the SMOG or registration headaches that the dealers had needed done. She bought it, and after a brief picture and a text reading "blessings" she drove off in the car that had served me so well for a little under four years. It was a sad moment, and yet a pivotal moment for the journey. I had just invested more than just verbally in this journey, and there was nowhere left to go but onward, and this is where we still find ourselves now.
That night we walked back to Berkeley Bowl, bought the ingredients, and then cooked up a "last supper" of sorts to share with Tim, Becky, and Taylor. It was a hit! Even the brussel sprouts turned out really good, though the pork was a bit dry. We did our best and had a great conversation to top off a great stay in SF.
Tuesday, October 19th, 2010
The morning consisted of making a run to the post office and bank, where we deposited some monies, sent off a package of stuff to Illinois, and a few postcards and letters as well. Then Tim gave us a ride to the BART station, we made our flight at SFO, and set off for Seattle, and then Honolulu to live in paradise....
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Up the coast to Ventura, CA
Saturday, October 9th, 2010
After a very pleasant day spent out to breakfast at Hash House a Go-Go, some time exploring San Diego’s Balboa Park, a fight over a souvenir pine cone, and some refreshment obtained from a demonstration on national physical abuse awareness day we decided the time had come to depart. We got in touch with John O’Brien’s brother-in-law Aaron Barta, headed through LA traffic, continued up the coast, and made it to Ventura, CA. There we were welcomed into a warm bed and a wonderful family, although Aaron’s wife Kate and youngest son Joseph were out of town. However the beautiful relationship between father Aaron and daughter Mercy, and son Kolbe, was something that I will not soon forget. The generosity and genuine love that we experienced here stemmed from a heart that is deeply at peace. Aaron is a man that inspired me to choose vocation, to make a decision in life. Yes the journey is good and will teach us much about ourselves, but the ultimate reality is that at the end we choose something to pour our lives into and must give it our best shot. For it is in pouring ourselves into something that we discover who we truly are and what we are capable of when we give all that we have.
Sunday, October 10th, 2010
While in Ventura, we decided not to go back down to LA, because there was not a whole lot to see, and we do feel that we will get there at some point in the future. Friday night before we had gotten in touch with Bridget Heffernan, who gave us a brief tour of Thomas Aquinas College, a unique institution nestled in the hills of central California, whose peaks overlook the ocean. We met at 7:15am on Sunday morning, and so had to leave Aaron’s place relatively early. Thus Daniel took a snooze in the car as we waited for Bridget to arrive. Shortly after we met and had our tour of campus, Bridget left for an opera in LA, and we stayed at the College for mass. We had about an hour before it began, however, so we took a hike up the mountain, which we later learned led to a three-walled painter’s chapel with a missing stained glass window. We never made it that far, but definitely enjoyed the surrounding cows, the strenuousness of the hills, and the bucolic nature of the hike.
As nine a.m. mass began, and I can honestly say that few times in my life have I ever beheld anything so beautiful. The mass was a reason in and of itself to become a priest, if only to get closer to the beautiful harmony of Latin and English liturgy that framed a sacrifice of the Eucharist more beautiful than anything I had ever seen before. The church building was an icon of marble and beautiful hardwood trim that commanded the silence and reverence that willingly entered its doors. We felt a bit out of place in our jeans as a majority of the faithful came in skirts and blouses for women, and slacks, shirts, and ties for men. Nonetheless, the greater impression was left by the sense of reverence and devotion of the young men and women, tutors (TAC’s course “teachers”), and friends and family. The sight was something beautiful and definitely inspiring to the Catholic vein that runs directly through my heart. When the mass was ended we met up with some friends of Bridget, who directed us to brunch in the College dining hall where we enjoyed a great sampling of the traditional breakfast fare. The conversation was good, and I can tell that all of the students we encountered are inspired by the methods and materials that are shaping their college education.
The main facilitator of learning at TAC is called the “tutor,” and for the very reason that you are probably thinking. Classes are generally based around the books or theory of a particular philosopher or theologian – take Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, or Descartes. Students are assigned readings, and then are expected to come to class ready to share their views on that particular reading. The tutors are there simply to facilitate discussion of the work at hand, and then to assign reinforcement activities such as papers or projects. One of the most interesting aspects of the TAC learning method goes by a name that I cannot recall. This was a requisite circumstance in which each student sits at the front of the class and the tutor makes verbal comments as to that particular student’s participation and contributions, as well as on ways that the student can improve. This may appear harsh by modern grading standards, but the effectiveness of immediate, verbal feedback cannot be discounted. I for one am guilty of providing verbal feedback that is almost invariably positive, and then providing the actual feedback only in written form. The TAC grading method provides a forum in which the tutor is encouraged to provide both positive encouragement and constructive criticism. The truth is that hearing the latter is one of the most effective ways for a student to integrate feedback. Think about how it seems that we always remember criticisms, be they good or bad, whereas praise invariably fades from our minds. Suffice it to say that our discussion with the five or so students over brunch was extremely stimulating and was encouraging insofar as my faith was restored that some educational institutions are moving in a positive direction.
Soon it came time for the students to head off and study, and even though the following day was a holiday, the campus went as silent as a lamb. So we wandered a little more, then headed off, up to Santa Barbara, where both the university and the beach were something to behold. Afterward we moved on down to the public beach where we relaxed and Dan made some calls home. The time here was a time to bask in the sun with the shirt off and hanging over the shoulder; knowing that the sun is burning the skin, but relishing the freedom of walking the beach barefoot and bare-chested at the beginning of October!
There are some days when I miss the fall, but California captivated my attention and my imagination. I suppose I could live here semi-permanently some day, but only after a couple of years from now. Back in Ventura, we made a trip to their beach, a beautiful, but windier and colder-watered version of the beauty of Santa Barbara. Next we hit up a market for some beverages and the ingredients for some guacamole. Thus we enjoyed a few cold ones, some Cincinatti-style chili, thanks to Aaron’s roommate Brian, and some movie time. “The Proposal” was infinitely more funny than I remembered it, now that we watched it in California, and the movies eventually gave way to good conversation in which we addressed questions of vocation, and came to a peace about life for a night. So we fell into the infinitely comfortable bed that we then shared.
Monday, October 11th, 2010
The night before, John O’Brien had invited us to a treat, and thus it was. We exchanged parting words and good wishes with Aaron, and then we headed out. Our destination – the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa – a beautiful, scenic expanse of several hundred acres, nestled in the same mountain range that embraces Thomas Aquinas College. Truly a beautiful resort complete with golf course, hot stone treatments, massages, pool, tropical birds, and any other relaxing and beautiful element that you could ever imagine. To John we are eternally grateful and look forward to returning to him in kind. We fully appreciated the situation and the only unfortunate occurrence, the bathroom had flooded when we entered it on our way out. But things were taken care of in short order, and paradise on earth was restored!
From the resort we acquired some gasoline and headed onward back toward Santa Barbara and beautiful Highway 1. We stopped a number of times to take in the breathtaking beauty of ocean below the highway, draped delicately across the cliffs and bridges that connect the entire coast from San Diego to the northern tip of Washington. Someday we will return and continue the journey, but this time, as dark fell, we hit construction. The delay ended up being kind of fun as we had to wait on a “pilot vehicle” for the second time this journey. The first time was a construction site on Indian Hwy 18 as we exited the Grand Canyon. This time there was a worker there from San José, who described his just short of retirement length career as a laborer. He was worried that he would not get enough hours for this year to qualify and thereby push him that much closer to the requisite number of years for retirement. I simultaneously marveled at the fact that we were conversing on Highway 1 in pitch darkness, apart from the blaring halogen construction lamp, overlooking the ocean. I do not think that I would ever want to retire from that job. As night continued to deepen, we decided to spend a night in Pfeiffer Big Sur National Park, a very dark place at night, but as it turned out a beautiful place in the morning.
Tuesday, October 12th, 2010
This day we were slated to arrive in San Francisco, but we had a few hundred miles and whole day ahead of us, and many beautiful things to behold. Dan caught up on sleep, and I toured the park in which we found ourselves. There turned out to be several redwood trees, and a nice cliff to scale on the opposite side of the just-a-bit-too-wide-to-ford creek that separated the overnight camping area from the day-use area. The wandering thoughtful walk was just what I needed.
Daniel awoke, and so off we went. Unfortunately, we did not know where to stop in Carmel and so bypassed one of the most beautiful beaches in California. The secret is that the white sand is trucked in from another location. The fabrication of a tourist destination in some ways, but in another, simply enhancing the beauty with which God has blessed a particular area of the world. The Pacific Coast Highway then carried us onward to Monterey, a gem of a town on an outlying peninsula of land. Once there and oriented, we hit up the Monterey International Institute, which I did not realize falls under the auspices of Middlebury College where I taught this past summer. Perhaps someone can better explain how the system works, but I had thought that Monterey preceded Middlebury as a language training school for the military. Later Middlebury established themselves in Vermont and began their domination of the language instruction industry here in the United States. The system is a front-runner in actual classroom-based language instruction, and their language pledge leads many to find success working in their respective languages. Obviously, as my career revolves around the languages, I was taken with the school, the library, and even picked up some information for future reference. Wandering through the common areas brought a thrill of different languages and cultures, and the joy of careers that rely on multicultural awareness and linguistic proficiency.
Once I tore myself away, we found one of few free parking spots in the city on top of the hill overlooking “Cannery Row,” the sardine-canning area immortalized by John Steinbeck in his novel of the same name. The area was interesting, and though we balked at entering the Aquarium this time, it is definitely something I can imagine doing in the future. I feel that this trip has in some ways been a preview of places to which I hope to return someday. From Cannery Row, we decided to rent bicycles, for one hour. We tore out of the place on the “comfort” bikes that ended up being a lot of what their title proclaimed and little speed. I felt the whole time as if my body was getting a massage, and it actually was not a bad way to view the island. But if you want to go fast, you may want to consider selecting a different bike. We raced from one end of the peninsula to the other, following the beach and the unwavering coastal Highway 1. Then we raced back in time for $1 tacos at Toritos with homemade tortillas, great fillings, and all the fixings you can imagine should adorn a good taco. Mexican food will never get old, and I am so happy that it gets so much better the further south and west you go.
At last we decided that we should probably head out. The light began to fail over the bay as we watched a television showdown between pitcher and batter in the bottom of the ninth. But Becky, Tim and Taylor were waiting in San Francisco (never “Frisco” to natives), and so onward we marched. We arrived at their place between nine and ten o’clock p.m. and quickly launched into conversation with three of the most intriguing people I have met in my life. Becky loves to read and very quickly set me up with a historical novel, and Tim loves to assemble violins and violas and so lent Daniel one of his creations to play. For the rest of the week, we relaxed, catching a few sights here and there, to be described in coming posts, but most of all relaxing and catching up our strength for the continuation of the voyage.
Reflection
I have begun reading a book given me by my mother called This Time I Dance! by a woman by the name of Tama J. Kieves and though not at the time, now I am completely okay with the moments in which we just need to stop running, stop moving, and allow the inner work to take place. This journey is an opportunity to open ourselves to many cultures as well as renew many relationships, and to just let the inner heart run wild with passion and hopes and dreams, thoughts and ideas for a future that could not look brighter. For my heart has more and more pertained to the present, has allowed itself to just be, to not be ashamed anymore for living life as I see fit. Tim, Becky, and Taylor were open to this, and our conversations inspired me to continue chasing the essential questions of my life, for I have not found the answers by staying where I was. We must walk out and seek them on our own. Once we understand what this entails, we must put in the work, and then open our hearts and our minds to the extraordinary dimensions that our lives will take on, almost of their own accord.
After a very pleasant day spent out to breakfast at Hash House a Go-Go, some time exploring San Diego’s Balboa Park, a fight over a souvenir pine cone, and some refreshment obtained from a demonstration on national physical abuse awareness day we decided the time had come to depart. We got in touch with John O’Brien’s brother-in-law Aaron Barta, headed through LA traffic, continued up the coast, and made it to Ventura, CA. There we were welcomed into a warm bed and a wonderful family, although Aaron’s wife Kate and youngest son Joseph were out of town. However the beautiful relationship between father Aaron and daughter Mercy, and son Kolbe, was something that I will not soon forget. The generosity and genuine love that we experienced here stemmed from a heart that is deeply at peace. Aaron is a man that inspired me to choose vocation, to make a decision in life. Yes the journey is good and will teach us much about ourselves, but the ultimate reality is that at the end we choose something to pour our lives into and must give it our best shot. For it is in pouring ourselves into something that we discover who we truly are and what we are capable of when we give all that we have.
Sunday, October 10th, 2010
While in Ventura, we decided not to go back down to LA, because there was not a whole lot to see, and we do feel that we will get there at some point in the future. Friday night before we had gotten in touch with Bridget Heffernan, who gave us a brief tour of Thomas Aquinas College, a unique institution nestled in the hills of central California, whose peaks overlook the ocean. We met at 7:15am on Sunday morning, and so had to leave Aaron’s place relatively early. Thus Daniel took a snooze in the car as we waited for Bridget to arrive. Shortly after we met and had our tour of campus, Bridget left for an opera in LA, and we stayed at the College for mass. We had about an hour before it began, however, so we took a hike up the mountain, which we later learned led to a three-walled painter’s chapel with a missing stained glass window. We never made it that far, but definitely enjoyed the surrounding cows, the strenuousness of the hills, and the bucolic nature of the hike.
As nine a.m. mass began, and I can honestly say that few times in my life have I ever beheld anything so beautiful. The mass was a reason in and of itself to become a priest, if only to get closer to the beautiful harmony of Latin and English liturgy that framed a sacrifice of the Eucharist more beautiful than anything I had ever seen before. The church building was an icon of marble and beautiful hardwood trim that commanded the silence and reverence that willingly entered its doors. We felt a bit out of place in our jeans as a majority of the faithful came in skirts and blouses for women, and slacks, shirts, and ties for men. Nonetheless, the greater impression was left by the sense of reverence and devotion of the young men and women, tutors (TAC’s course “teachers”), and friends and family. The sight was something beautiful and definitely inspiring to the Catholic vein that runs directly through my heart. When the mass was ended we met up with some friends of Bridget, who directed us to brunch in the College dining hall where we enjoyed a great sampling of the traditional breakfast fare. The conversation was good, and I can tell that all of the students we encountered are inspired by the methods and materials that are shaping their college education.
The main facilitator of learning at TAC is called the “tutor,” and for the very reason that you are probably thinking. Classes are generally based around the books or theory of a particular philosopher or theologian – take Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, or Descartes. Students are assigned readings, and then are expected to come to class ready to share their views on that particular reading. The tutors are there simply to facilitate discussion of the work at hand, and then to assign reinforcement activities such as papers or projects. One of the most interesting aspects of the TAC learning method goes by a name that I cannot recall. This was a requisite circumstance in which each student sits at the front of the class and the tutor makes verbal comments as to that particular student’s participation and contributions, as well as on ways that the student can improve. This may appear harsh by modern grading standards, but the effectiveness of immediate, verbal feedback cannot be discounted. I for one am guilty of providing verbal feedback that is almost invariably positive, and then providing the actual feedback only in written form. The TAC grading method provides a forum in which the tutor is encouraged to provide both positive encouragement and constructive criticism. The truth is that hearing the latter is one of the most effective ways for a student to integrate feedback. Think about how it seems that we always remember criticisms, be they good or bad, whereas praise invariably fades from our minds. Suffice it to say that our discussion with the five or so students over brunch was extremely stimulating and was encouraging insofar as my faith was restored that some educational institutions are moving in a positive direction.
Soon it came time for the students to head off and study, and even though the following day was a holiday, the campus went as silent as a lamb. So we wandered a little more, then headed off, up to Santa Barbara, where both the university and the beach were something to behold. Afterward we moved on down to the public beach where we relaxed and Dan made some calls home. The time here was a time to bask in the sun with the shirt off and hanging over the shoulder; knowing that the sun is burning the skin, but relishing the freedom of walking the beach barefoot and bare-chested at the beginning of October!
There are some days when I miss the fall, but California captivated my attention and my imagination. I suppose I could live here semi-permanently some day, but only after a couple of years from now. Back in Ventura, we made a trip to their beach, a beautiful, but windier and colder-watered version of the beauty of Santa Barbara. Next we hit up a market for some beverages and the ingredients for some guacamole. Thus we enjoyed a few cold ones, some Cincinatti-style chili, thanks to Aaron’s roommate Brian, and some movie time. “The Proposal” was infinitely more funny than I remembered it, now that we watched it in California, and the movies eventually gave way to good conversation in which we addressed questions of vocation, and came to a peace about life for a night. So we fell into the infinitely comfortable bed that we then shared.
Monday, October 11th, 2010
The night before, John O’Brien had invited us to a treat, and thus it was. We exchanged parting words and good wishes with Aaron, and then we headed out. Our destination – the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa – a beautiful, scenic expanse of several hundred acres, nestled in the same mountain range that embraces Thomas Aquinas College. Truly a beautiful resort complete with golf course, hot stone treatments, massages, pool, tropical birds, and any other relaxing and beautiful element that you could ever imagine. To John we are eternally grateful and look forward to returning to him in kind. We fully appreciated the situation and the only unfortunate occurrence, the bathroom had flooded when we entered it on our way out. But things were taken care of in short order, and paradise on earth was restored!
From the resort we acquired some gasoline and headed onward back toward Santa Barbara and beautiful Highway 1. We stopped a number of times to take in the breathtaking beauty of ocean below the highway, draped delicately across the cliffs and bridges that connect the entire coast from San Diego to the northern tip of Washington. Someday we will return and continue the journey, but this time, as dark fell, we hit construction. The delay ended up being kind of fun as we had to wait on a “pilot vehicle” for the second time this journey. The first time was a construction site on Indian Hwy 18 as we exited the Grand Canyon. This time there was a worker there from San José, who described his just short of retirement length career as a laborer. He was worried that he would not get enough hours for this year to qualify and thereby push him that much closer to the requisite number of years for retirement. I simultaneously marveled at the fact that we were conversing on Highway 1 in pitch darkness, apart from the blaring halogen construction lamp, overlooking the ocean. I do not think that I would ever want to retire from that job. As night continued to deepen, we decided to spend a night in Pfeiffer Big Sur National Park, a very dark place at night, but as it turned out a beautiful place in the morning.
Tuesday, October 12th, 2010
This day we were slated to arrive in San Francisco, but we had a few hundred miles and whole day ahead of us, and many beautiful things to behold. Dan caught up on sleep, and I toured the park in which we found ourselves. There turned out to be several redwood trees, and a nice cliff to scale on the opposite side of the just-a-bit-too-wide-to-ford creek that separated the overnight camping area from the day-use area. The wandering thoughtful walk was just what I needed.
Daniel awoke, and so off we went. Unfortunately, we did not know where to stop in Carmel and so bypassed one of the most beautiful beaches in California. The secret is that the white sand is trucked in from another location. The fabrication of a tourist destination in some ways, but in another, simply enhancing the beauty with which God has blessed a particular area of the world. The Pacific Coast Highway then carried us onward to Monterey, a gem of a town on an outlying peninsula of land. Once there and oriented, we hit up the Monterey International Institute, which I did not realize falls under the auspices of Middlebury College where I taught this past summer. Perhaps someone can better explain how the system works, but I had thought that Monterey preceded Middlebury as a language training school for the military. Later Middlebury established themselves in Vermont and began their domination of the language instruction industry here in the United States. The system is a front-runner in actual classroom-based language instruction, and their language pledge leads many to find success working in their respective languages. Obviously, as my career revolves around the languages, I was taken with the school, the library, and even picked up some information for future reference. Wandering through the common areas brought a thrill of different languages and cultures, and the joy of careers that rely on multicultural awareness and linguistic proficiency.
Once I tore myself away, we found one of few free parking spots in the city on top of the hill overlooking “Cannery Row,” the sardine-canning area immortalized by John Steinbeck in his novel of the same name. The area was interesting, and though we balked at entering the Aquarium this time, it is definitely something I can imagine doing in the future. I feel that this trip has in some ways been a preview of places to which I hope to return someday. From Cannery Row, we decided to rent bicycles, for one hour. We tore out of the place on the “comfort” bikes that ended up being a lot of what their title proclaimed and little speed. I felt the whole time as if my body was getting a massage, and it actually was not a bad way to view the island. But if you want to go fast, you may want to consider selecting a different bike. We raced from one end of the peninsula to the other, following the beach and the unwavering coastal Highway 1. Then we raced back in time for $1 tacos at Toritos with homemade tortillas, great fillings, and all the fixings you can imagine should adorn a good taco. Mexican food will never get old, and I am so happy that it gets so much better the further south and west you go.
At last we decided that we should probably head out. The light began to fail over the bay as we watched a television showdown between pitcher and batter in the bottom of the ninth. But Becky, Tim and Taylor were waiting in San Francisco (never “Frisco” to natives), and so onward we marched. We arrived at their place between nine and ten o’clock p.m. and quickly launched into conversation with three of the most intriguing people I have met in my life. Becky loves to read and very quickly set me up with a historical novel, and Tim loves to assemble violins and violas and so lent Daniel one of his creations to play. For the rest of the week, we relaxed, catching a few sights here and there, to be described in coming posts, but most of all relaxing and catching up our strength for the continuation of the voyage.
Reflection
I have begun reading a book given me by my mother called This Time I Dance! by a woman by the name of Tama J. Kieves and though not at the time, now I am completely okay with the moments in which we just need to stop running, stop moving, and allow the inner work to take place. This journey is an opportunity to open ourselves to many cultures as well as renew many relationships, and to just let the inner heart run wild with passion and hopes and dreams, thoughts and ideas for a future that could not look brighter. For my heart has more and more pertained to the present, has allowed itself to just be, to not be ashamed anymore for living life as I see fit. Tim, Becky, and Taylor were open to this, and our conversations inspired me to continue chasing the essential questions of my life, for I have not found the answers by staying where I was. We must walk out and seek them on our own. Once we understand what this entails, we must put in the work, and then open our hearts and our minds to the extraordinary dimensions that our lives will take on, almost of their own accord.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Coronado Island
Some have described the island as the model of perfection, others Pleasantville, still others as one of the most beautiful places in the world. There is a richness there, and one that I cannot yet understand.
We left Vegas on a high, natural of course, but stemming from the experiences of the day before; the cigar on the strip, camping on the banks of Lake Mead, waking up to beautiful unhindered sunlight streaming through the top of my tent; all of these experiences inspired me to walk to the banks of Lake Mead, a phenomenon among man-made lakes. This one is in fact a reservoir formed by the backup of the Colorado River behind the Hoover Dam. The water is used for irrigation and many other purposes, of which I think drinking is the least of them. Thus, the lake consists of overflow; beautiful blue water covering the typical stones and sand of the desert. It is an irony and a paradox. Walking out, one can see the mineral rim reaching high on the surrounding rocky hills, representing the highest point reached by the waters of the reservoir. There is a great deal of green scrub brush surrounding the lake as well, whereas the surrounding hills display mainly stones and sand. Fascinating, as the entire reality of the lake is a paradox. Much like Vegas, it is a fantasyland - a lake in the middle of the desert. However the beauty is captivating enough that you are willing to suspend reality, and the water feels real enough. Like so much of what we experienced in those couple of days, we had to open our understanding of what is, and what is possible, to be able to fully comprehend what we experienced.
Coronado, as it turned out, was no exception. Pulling myself away from the lake, we departed, and time flew. A great conversation with Mike Rudz, who will join us on November 2 in New Zealand with his sister and our good friend Carrie, certainly provided some inspiration on the drive in. Another inspiring element was the crazy weather that seemed to change at every stop, literally dropping 20 or 30 degrees as we moved from the Mojave Desert to San Bernardino, then rising another 10 pleasant degrees as we reached San Diego, then crossed the Bay Bridge into the promised land.
Have you ever heard of lawn bowling? coffee carts? yachts? All can be found on the island, along with the most beautiful public library I have ever seen, and some of the most pleasant people I have ever met. Our host, Roberto Reyes or "Berto" as we learned to affectionately call him, lives literally in a former slave residence of closet-like dimensions at 835 1/2 J Avenue. It sounds like something out of a movie, and to a certain degree it was. Thanks to Tim Danaher, who first got us into touch with Berto, this became the home base for our many misadventures on the island and throughout San Diego.
We met Berto at the coffee cart with Susan Blair, who is one of the most eclectic and interesting people I have ever met. Love her completely. We sat and enjoyed the setting sun, and planned out the happenings of the following days. The first night on Coronado was a Wednesday, meaning that the Island Beer Club, meeting down the alley was in session. Thus we headed down and mingled, myself eventually meeting a gentleman by the name of Mark Blumenthal, who happened to know (and phone) a man by the name of Pete Lucas, a renowned sports official from northern Illinois, as well as knew Larry Young, one of few northern Illinois officials who has made it to the Major Leagues. Young was an MLB umpire until he retired a couple years back. An interesting connection to have made on the other side of the country, as I had before only ever met Larry Young at a Special Olympics event in Byron, Illinois. The world is small.
From there, Berto parted to study for a midterm exam and Daniel and I explored the island. It is a beautiful place, and on the first night we reached the eastern side, which includes a beautiful view of the San Diego skyline, and pares down to a strip no more than 100 yards wide, such that one can get from the bay side to the ocean side in a matter of 5 minutes walking. The island is flanked by two military bases: the US Naval Air Station on the west and the US Naval Amphibious "Amphib" Base on the east. Though largely dominated by these military installations, the island still has space for the "Del" Hotel as it is called by the locals. Its full name is "Hotel del Coronado" and is by far one of the nicest establishments I have ever seen in the hotel industry. On this note then, after wandering past the marina and the pool where Tim Danaher used to lifeguard on the bay side, we headed to the ocean side and caught our first glimpse of the lights of Tijuana. I was caught up again with thoughts of how to reconcile the unfortunate situation between the US and Mexico right now, for the lights alone signal a culture and an inherent richness very different from our own. We have so much to gain from one another, and yet we are separated by a border, by violence, but mostly by fear and misunderstanding. I was once again inspired, and look forward to see what I can do to help improve the situation, for I know this will be a part of what the future will bring.
Coronado is connected to the mainland, both by the Bay Bridge and the Strand. The first is a highflying feat of engineering, from which one can see the aircraft carriers docked at port on one side of the bridge, and the frigates and other military vessels on the other side. In truth, the Bay itself is vastly impressive. As a kid from Rockford, Illinois, the majesty of almost everything I have seen in California has simply blown me away. I understand why many come here and never go back. But I also believe that in the Midwest we are able to appreciate much more the simpler nuances of life, whereas a Californian, as he is constantly inundated with the unabashed beauty of nature and the wonders of what man can create, requires a much more profound experience to be impressed.
Thus we crossed this bridge many times during our stay on Coronado, going anywhere from the Jesuit University of San Diego, to Cabrillo National Monument (from which the entire San Diego bay area is visible), to Little Italy, where we enjoyed the local Italian fare and attended mass at Our Lady of the Holy Rosary at noon. We are meshing days together here, but the experience was so rich, it is hard to recall exactly how things went down. Every moment was filled with something new. We went to La Jolla where we walked the beach for what seemed like hours, and then took our first swim in the ocean.
The second day of our stay consisted of catching up on postcards, blogging, and pictures in the library, and then Berto took us to eat calamari sandwiches at a renowned seafood market and outdoor restaurant (ah the glories of California!). From there we toured Cabrillo National Monument, overlooking the entire San Diego bay area, and then the majestic (Jesuit) University of San Diego where tuition runs $50,000/year. This is probably not all that much anymore compared to some schools, but I believe mine was about half of that at Iowa State University. From there we headed back and relaxed for the evening.
Third day we got up late and then headed to mass at the Our Lady of the Rosary in Little Italy. A delightful liturgy in which the priest, with no homily and very few flourishes, conducted one of the most memorable Catholic masses I have yet been a part of. Afterward we wandered the neighborhood looking for some attractive Italian food, and at last happened upon a place where beer and pizza were the specialties. So I ordered a Stella Artois and Daniel a Coke, and we enjoyed two slices each on the back patio, meanwhile a pint-sized chihuahua roamed the territory and a homeless guy had lunch with the owner of two parrots. It was a strange experience, but hey the pizza was very good!
From there we went back to Coronado, stopped in and saw Sasha at the public library and offered some inspiration based upon our own experiences with travel up to this point, and then grabbed our "swim trunks" (athletic shorts) and headed to La Jolla.
The name is an interesting phenomenon, for I first thought that it was misspelled, but was readily assured that the name had been spelled as such for a long time. The title of my photograph album for our time in Coronado is labeled "The Jewel of California" which in Spanish could be translated "La joya de California" written joya. However here is a thread from Wordreference that gives a bit of background on this phenomenon and others (in Spanish) http://forum.wordreference.com/showthread.php?t=1161670.
In any case, the beach was beautiful and we wandered for a good hour away from the main spot where many swimmers and surfers had taken up their time for diversion. A very enjoyable walk with the sun on our backs, being pale, we both burned quite nicely of course. After trying to get in where the seaweed quite literally filled the water, we decided that the majority of swimmers must know something after all, and returned to where they were, where we found much less seaweed. We swam, and then headed to the Cove in La Jolla, where a great deal of sea lions congregate and people come from all over to swim among them. I would think that it is a great place for sharks to congregate as well, and since it was late in the day and the water seemed very cold, we decided to remain on the shore, take pictures, and enjoy the scenery.
From here we went back to Berto's friend's place on Coronado and enjoyed an evening of hanging out. In the morning we went for breakfast at Hash House a Go-Go, and then toured Balboa Park with Berto and Sasha, which ultimately culminated in a nice couple glasses of sangría at the Prado, a beautiful Spanish colonial style structure in the center of the park. That night then, we got in touch with the brother-in-law of John O'Brien and headed onward for our next adventure in Ventura, CA. Thanks to Berto, Susan, Sasha, Berto's neighbor Larry and all others we met on Coronado, it was an honor and a pleasure and we look forward to seeing you again soon!
We left Vegas on a high, natural of course, but stemming from the experiences of the day before; the cigar on the strip, camping on the banks of Lake Mead, waking up to beautiful unhindered sunlight streaming through the top of my tent; all of these experiences inspired me to walk to the banks of Lake Mead, a phenomenon among man-made lakes. This one is in fact a reservoir formed by the backup of the Colorado River behind the Hoover Dam. The water is used for irrigation and many other purposes, of which I think drinking is the least of them. Thus, the lake consists of overflow; beautiful blue water covering the typical stones and sand of the desert. It is an irony and a paradox. Walking out, one can see the mineral rim reaching high on the surrounding rocky hills, representing the highest point reached by the waters of the reservoir. There is a great deal of green scrub brush surrounding the lake as well, whereas the surrounding hills display mainly stones and sand. Fascinating, as the entire reality of the lake is a paradox. Much like Vegas, it is a fantasyland - a lake in the middle of the desert. However the beauty is captivating enough that you are willing to suspend reality, and the water feels real enough. Like so much of what we experienced in those couple of days, we had to open our understanding of what is, and what is possible, to be able to fully comprehend what we experienced.
Coronado, as it turned out, was no exception. Pulling myself away from the lake, we departed, and time flew. A great conversation with Mike Rudz, who will join us on November 2 in New Zealand with his sister and our good friend Carrie, certainly provided some inspiration on the drive in. Another inspiring element was the crazy weather that seemed to change at every stop, literally dropping 20 or 30 degrees as we moved from the Mojave Desert to San Bernardino, then rising another 10 pleasant degrees as we reached San Diego, then crossed the Bay Bridge into the promised land.
Have you ever heard of lawn bowling? coffee carts? yachts? All can be found on the island, along with the most beautiful public library I have ever seen, and some of the most pleasant people I have ever met. Our host, Roberto Reyes or "Berto" as we learned to affectionately call him, lives literally in a former slave residence of closet-like dimensions at 835 1/2 J Avenue. It sounds like something out of a movie, and to a certain degree it was. Thanks to Tim Danaher, who first got us into touch with Berto, this became the home base for our many misadventures on the island and throughout San Diego.
We met Berto at the coffee cart with Susan Blair, who is one of the most eclectic and interesting people I have ever met. Love her completely. We sat and enjoyed the setting sun, and planned out the happenings of the following days. The first night on Coronado was a Wednesday, meaning that the Island Beer Club, meeting down the alley was in session. Thus we headed down and mingled, myself eventually meeting a gentleman by the name of Mark Blumenthal, who happened to know (and phone) a man by the name of Pete Lucas, a renowned sports official from northern Illinois, as well as knew Larry Young, one of few northern Illinois officials who has made it to the Major Leagues. Young was an MLB umpire until he retired a couple years back. An interesting connection to have made on the other side of the country, as I had before only ever met Larry Young at a Special Olympics event in Byron, Illinois. The world is small.
From there, Berto parted to study for a midterm exam and Daniel and I explored the island. It is a beautiful place, and on the first night we reached the eastern side, which includes a beautiful view of the San Diego skyline, and pares down to a strip no more than 100 yards wide, such that one can get from the bay side to the ocean side in a matter of 5 minutes walking. The island is flanked by two military bases: the US Naval Air Station on the west and the US Naval Amphibious "Amphib" Base on the east. Though largely dominated by these military installations, the island still has space for the "Del" Hotel as it is called by the locals. Its full name is "Hotel del Coronado" and is by far one of the nicest establishments I have ever seen in the hotel industry. On this note then, after wandering past the marina and the pool where Tim Danaher used to lifeguard on the bay side, we headed to the ocean side and caught our first glimpse of the lights of Tijuana. I was caught up again with thoughts of how to reconcile the unfortunate situation between the US and Mexico right now, for the lights alone signal a culture and an inherent richness very different from our own. We have so much to gain from one another, and yet we are separated by a border, by violence, but mostly by fear and misunderstanding. I was once again inspired, and look forward to see what I can do to help improve the situation, for I know this will be a part of what the future will bring.
Coronado is connected to the mainland, both by the Bay Bridge and the Strand. The first is a highflying feat of engineering, from which one can see the aircraft carriers docked at port on one side of the bridge, and the frigates and other military vessels on the other side. In truth, the Bay itself is vastly impressive. As a kid from Rockford, Illinois, the majesty of almost everything I have seen in California has simply blown me away. I understand why many come here and never go back. But I also believe that in the Midwest we are able to appreciate much more the simpler nuances of life, whereas a Californian, as he is constantly inundated with the unabashed beauty of nature and the wonders of what man can create, requires a much more profound experience to be impressed.
Thus we crossed this bridge many times during our stay on Coronado, going anywhere from the Jesuit University of San Diego, to Cabrillo National Monument (from which the entire San Diego bay area is visible), to Little Italy, where we enjoyed the local Italian fare and attended mass at Our Lady of the Holy Rosary at noon. We are meshing days together here, but the experience was so rich, it is hard to recall exactly how things went down. Every moment was filled with something new. We went to La Jolla where we walked the beach for what seemed like hours, and then took our first swim in the ocean.
The second day of our stay consisted of catching up on postcards, blogging, and pictures in the library, and then Berto took us to eat calamari sandwiches at a renowned seafood market and outdoor restaurant (ah the glories of California!). From there we toured Cabrillo National Monument, overlooking the entire San Diego bay area, and then the majestic (Jesuit) University of San Diego where tuition runs $50,000/year. This is probably not all that much anymore compared to some schools, but I believe mine was about half of that at Iowa State University. From there we headed back and relaxed for the evening.
Third day we got up late and then headed to mass at the Our Lady of the Rosary in Little Italy. A delightful liturgy in which the priest, with no homily and very few flourishes, conducted one of the most memorable Catholic masses I have yet been a part of. Afterward we wandered the neighborhood looking for some attractive Italian food, and at last happened upon a place where beer and pizza were the specialties. So I ordered a Stella Artois and Daniel a Coke, and we enjoyed two slices each on the back patio, meanwhile a pint-sized chihuahua roamed the territory and a homeless guy had lunch with the owner of two parrots. It was a strange experience, but hey the pizza was very good!
From there we went back to Coronado, stopped in and saw Sasha at the public library and offered some inspiration based upon our own experiences with travel up to this point, and then grabbed our "swim trunks" (athletic shorts) and headed to La Jolla.
The name is an interesting phenomenon, for I first thought that it was misspelled, but was readily assured that the name had been spelled as such for a long time. The title of my photograph album for our time in Coronado is labeled "The Jewel of California" which in Spanish could be translated "La joya de California" written joya. However here is a thread from Wordreference that gives a bit of background on this phenomenon and others (in Spanish) http://forum.wordreference.com/showthread.php?t=1161670.
In any case, the beach was beautiful and we wandered for a good hour away from the main spot where many swimmers and surfers had taken up their time for diversion. A very enjoyable walk with the sun on our backs, being pale, we both burned quite nicely of course. After trying to get in where the seaweed quite literally filled the water, we decided that the majority of swimmers must know something after all, and returned to where they were, where we found much less seaweed. We swam, and then headed to the Cove in La Jolla, where a great deal of sea lions congregate and people come from all over to swim among them. I would think that it is a great place for sharks to congregate as well, and since it was late in the day and the water seemed very cold, we decided to remain on the shore, take pictures, and enjoy the scenery.
From here we went back to Berto's friend's place on Coronado and enjoyed an evening of hanging out. In the morning we went for breakfast at Hash House a Go-Go, and then toured Balboa Park with Berto and Sasha, which ultimately culminated in a nice couple glasses of sangría at the Prado, a beautiful Spanish colonial style structure in the center of the park. That night then, we got in touch with the brother-in-law of John O'Brien and headed onward for our next adventure in Ventura, CA. Thanks to Berto, Susan, Sasha, Berto's neighbor Larry and all others we met on Coronado, it was an honor and a pleasure and we look forward to seeing you again soon!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
The lights of Vegas
After our abbreviated stay at the Grand Canyon, we drove out of Supai, and on the road encountered one of the most sudden and bizarre occurrences of weather that I have in my short life experienced. The clouds off to our east had been brewing ever since we began the ascent out of the canyon south on the 60 mile road back toward Route 66. Then of a sudden the storm was upon us. We passed a massive 2-ton pickup truck and the next thing we knew were engulfed in rain and pea-sized hail!
Here is a link to a video captured during the storm:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZM8Bmn-xt0
The precipitation rocked the vehicle for a total of maybe a minute, to the point that I was forced to slow down, and then let up just as suddenly as it had come. There is a video of it that I plan to post on Facebook so that you can experience what it was like. As I said in an earlier post, we decided not to go back east in order to see the Grand Canyon from the National Park, and so headed further west, uncertain of where we would end up. We drove for a good deal of time before we reached a random sort of oasis known as the Hackberry General Store. In old times I imagine that the gas pumps actually worked, but now it is an assortment of random keepsakes from the desert and times passed, parked, placed, strewn, and hung all over the property that surrounds the store itself. It was a surreal experience to encounter so many strange objects in one area outside of Kingman, Arizona, but it was interesting enough.
Once we reached the town of Kingman, we kind of sat and hung out, until deciding to head all the way to Nevada and see the Hoover Dam before settling down for the night, either with a friend of a friend, or by camping out for the evening. It was not to be. What ultimately happened is that after switching drivers and while I slept, Daniel errantly decided to follow Interstate 40 instead of state highway 95, which carried us significantly south of our destination, and out of reach of the Dam for the day anyway. We did arrive to Las Vegas eventually, but not before traversing the desert of southeastern California, which is pretty severe I might add. Headed back north, we made it to Vegas and drove around. We hiked a path up by Lake Mead and I pondered where in the world we would spend the night that evening. In the end we returned to Boulder City, just outside Vegas, got a hotel room for $38, shared a Toscani pasta dish at Pizza Hut, then crashed out until the morning.
One thing I have learned on the trip thus far is that my brother needs more sleep than I do, and thus I usually spend the mornings catching up on email and the blog while he sleeps. On the flip side, however, I crash out pretty early at night and he will stay up and catch up on his stuff. An interesting, but good dynamic thus far.
So began our day of touring the Hoover Dam and the Vegas strip. Once we found it, the dam was initially, in all honesty, a letdown. I had expected something much bigger, however we soon realized that we were viewing the north side of the dam, and that the south side is the more impressive, angled view that is pictured in most textbooks. After seeing this I began to realize the sheer magnitude of the project, the great number of lives that were sacrificed in its construction, and ultimately now the great amount of energy and irrigation that it supplies to the surrounding areas, enabling the desert to be habitable and Vegas to exist.
In light of this we headed to the strip. Essentially, Las Vegas is a dreamland created in the middle of a desert where dream rules apply. We immediately took note of the literally hundreds of people passing handbills, and the difference in laws between Vegas and the rest of the US, as far as I know. In Vegas, one can inbibe alcohol outside, and smoke inside. The reverse is also true of course. This we observed while wandering nearly 8 miles all around the strip, into the casinos and around the replica monuments.
Impressive, in every sense of the word; contrived, in every sense of the word; built on taking people's money, in every sense of the phrase. Vegas wins; always. However if you go to have fun, it can be a great way to spend some time. Try smiling, we were one of few people we ever saw doing so. Keep your money: we didn't spend or gamble a dime on the strip, and I think we had more fun than anyone else we saw. As we came to the end of the night and it was time to head back, we pulled out our cigars, sitting on one of the fountains in front of "Paris" and across the street from the "Bellagio."
We lit up and strutted like kings, all the way back to our car, parked near the Stratosphere. A phenomenal experience, crowned with a cheap dinner of ground sirloin and chicken-fried steak at the restaurant at the Railroad Casino at the edge of what is considered Las Vegas. Never in my life have I seen so many slot machines and card tables, and at the end, Dan and I thought that this would be a fun place to come with a group of people in the mood to have a good time. Bring enough $ to have a good time, but leave the life savings at home!
That night we wandered back to where we had found a campground on the shores of Lake Mead the night before, set up the tent and got Daniel situated in the car. For $10 we spent the night, and awoke to hedge-trimmers. Campground upkeep I guess. Nonetheless, there was a good amount of time for reflection, before we got on the road and headed onward to San Diego and Coronado Island. The Berto-meister, all to come in the next post!
Friday, October 15, 2010
The reality of a world trip...
Ruminations of this post have been turning in my mind over the past several weeks as I know that on this blog I have simply given updates and reports on "what" we have been doing, but not so much on "how" this has been affecting us, or even the multiple revelations of "why" we are doing this, that have become more apparent since we began. I do not intend to directly answer these questions here, but instead offer a reflection whereby I hope that the answers to these questions will make themselves apparent.
Thus far our trip has consisted of moving from one friend to another. Some I had seen not long before our arrival, with others it had been a significant period of time since our last meeting. My perception on friendship is that once we have met and spent a good period of time or at least shared some kind of significant experience, we are friends for life. Thus, my friend can call on me whenever necessary and I will do everything in my power to help them out, and so I act accordingly with regard to asking for their help. The minor problem that sometimes arises is that I am not the best at keeping in touch, and therefore I fall out of touch with friends whom I love very much. Some "impoverished forms of communication," such as email and social networking sites (I use Facebook) have allowed me to become a bit better with regard to this, but my true desire would be to write letters to all of those who have had such a profound impact on my life, and with whom I hope to share further experiences in the future. Luckily, everyone that we have stayed with thus far has been willing to take us in and has shown us an incredibly good time in every place we have been.
I read last night how the modern age tends not to trust in the essential good of the neighbor, and therefore practices such as hitchhiking and travel on a shoestring budget are not as common in our times as they once were. I would like to say that we should put greater trust in those around us. Not only in our friends and the ones who love us, but also in the neighbors and third parties that we encounter on a daily basis. There are certainly reasons to fear, but as a wise man affirmed, if we believe and expect people to be dishonest, we will find more dishonest people in the world, whereas if we believe that everyone is essentially honest and good, we will encounter more of this type of person in our lives.
It is amazing how true this can be. Thanks to so many friends along the way, we have been able to find so many more good people whom we never planned to meet and ultimately stay with. There have been nights when we have not been able to find someone, partly because I have not completely acclimated to finding places to stay through sites like couchsurfing.com. In time I suppose. However, it is also nice to have a night to oneself every once in a while. We have spent some beautiful nights on the Grand Canyon, on Lake Mead outside Las Vegas, and in Pfeiffer Big Sur National Park just off Highway 1 on the California coast.
In truth, I believe this world trip is a test run for a life. I love the spontaneity of this kind of travel, and the exchange of thoughts and ideas that it necessarily entails. I can remember many times that I was sitting in the library at graduate school and working on the items that needed to get done, but feeling inside an intense desire to up and leave and never look back. Certainly the traveling lifestyle requires some sacrifices, but so also does living a "conventional" life. In truth choosing any way of living means not choosing another way of living. Given that we observe the basic laws of life and morality, there are no wrong choices, there are only some choices for whice we may be better suited than for others. With regard to this world trip, the Lord has blessed me with a great deal of very good friends who are now spread throughout the United States and all over the globe, and many of them have invited me to come stay with them or with friends of theirs. Perhaps they did not realize that the Lord has also granted me a strong desire to travel and see and learn by experience. I love to read, but to see the truths played out in our own lives, or to encounter the monuments and historical locations that ever before only had a place in history books is truly a marvelous experience for me. In addition I am blessed with a very easy-going disposition toward life, and I find it very easy and enjoyable to talk to anyone that I encounter anywhere. Case in point, yesterday on the BART back from downtown San Francisco, we held conversation with a random man who decided that we were an interesting couple of young man to share his life with. These characteristics then, in sum, make me eminently qualified to undertake this world trip. Moreover, it is something that I have discussed doing and very much wanted to do for a very long time. Thus, given that I am qualified, that I have a desire to do this, and have gone about preparing for it responsibly, there is every reason to carry on, and so carry on I will, until one of the above runs out or proves no longer true.
As an aside to our friends that have thus far been a blessing to us, we want you to know that it is because of you that we are on our way, and for that we are forever grateful to you, and look forward to the day when we can repay you in kind. Wherever we find ourselves in the future, you are always welcome, because you will have helped us get there and we in turn will be ready and willing to help you or anyone else who you know who needs a hand.
Our current status here in San Francisco is one of both physical and mental preparation. Ensuring that we have all the things we will need on our trip abroad, and parting with other things such as the trusty Dodge Neon that has carried me all over these great United States for over three years without fail. From here we head to Hawaii to catch up with some friends very close to my heart, and then will continue along to the international portion of our journey by heading to Australia. There we will seek work and trust yet again in the goodness of men to be able to continue our trip. From there we will travel from the couches of a friend to the spare rooms of family, slowly making our way around the world.
What is your "worldtrip?" What is that desire that lives inside you for which you are eminently qualified and which you are free to do? Consider the possibilities of fulfilling your own dreams and your own potential within the confines of your current life. Incorporate your own worldtrip into your life, and I promise you will start to learn things that you never thought about, or never imagined possible before you opened your mind to the idea. To be completely honest, we departed on this trip not knowing exactly what we sought, but I think for that reason and more we have begun to discover things that we never could have planned to seek. Perhaps you are living your world trip right now, and for this you are eternally blest. We would encourage you to share how you got there with others, in the hope that all of us may find what it is that we desire to do in the truest part of ourselves, and thereby seek to become the fullest and truest possible versions of the people we have the potential to become.
Thus far our trip has consisted of moving from one friend to another. Some I had seen not long before our arrival, with others it had been a significant period of time since our last meeting. My perception on friendship is that once we have met and spent a good period of time or at least shared some kind of significant experience, we are friends for life. Thus, my friend can call on me whenever necessary and I will do everything in my power to help them out, and so I act accordingly with regard to asking for their help. The minor problem that sometimes arises is that I am not the best at keeping in touch, and therefore I fall out of touch with friends whom I love very much. Some "impoverished forms of communication," such as email and social networking sites (I use Facebook) have allowed me to become a bit better with regard to this, but my true desire would be to write letters to all of those who have had such a profound impact on my life, and with whom I hope to share further experiences in the future. Luckily, everyone that we have stayed with thus far has been willing to take us in and has shown us an incredibly good time in every place we have been.
I read last night how the modern age tends not to trust in the essential good of the neighbor, and therefore practices such as hitchhiking and travel on a shoestring budget are not as common in our times as they once were. I would like to say that we should put greater trust in those around us. Not only in our friends and the ones who love us, but also in the neighbors and third parties that we encounter on a daily basis. There are certainly reasons to fear, but as a wise man affirmed, if we believe and expect people to be dishonest, we will find more dishonest people in the world, whereas if we believe that everyone is essentially honest and good, we will encounter more of this type of person in our lives.
It is amazing how true this can be. Thanks to so many friends along the way, we have been able to find so many more good people whom we never planned to meet and ultimately stay with. There have been nights when we have not been able to find someone, partly because I have not completely acclimated to finding places to stay through sites like couchsurfing.com. In time I suppose. However, it is also nice to have a night to oneself every once in a while. We have spent some beautiful nights on the Grand Canyon, on Lake Mead outside Las Vegas, and in Pfeiffer Big Sur National Park just off Highway 1 on the California coast.
In truth, I believe this world trip is a test run for a life. I love the spontaneity of this kind of travel, and the exchange of thoughts and ideas that it necessarily entails. I can remember many times that I was sitting in the library at graduate school and working on the items that needed to get done, but feeling inside an intense desire to up and leave and never look back. Certainly the traveling lifestyle requires some sacrifices, but so also does living a "conventional" life. In truth choosing any way of living means not choosing another way of living. Given that we observe the basic laws of life and morality, there are no wrong choices, there are only some choices for whice we may be better suited than for others. With regard to this world trip, the Lord has blessed me with a great deal of very good friends who are now spread throughout the United States and all over the globe, and many of them have invited me to come stay with them or with friends of theirs. Perhaps they did not realize that the Lord has also granted me a strong desire to travel and see and learn by experience. I love to read, but to see the truths played out in our own lives, or to encounter the monuments and historical locations that ever before only had a place in history books is truly a marvelous experience for me. In addition I am blessed with a very easy-going disposition toward life, and I find it very easy and enjoyable to talk to anyone that I encounter anywhere. Case in point, yesterday on the BART back from downtown San Francisco, we held conversation with a random man who decided that we were an interesting couple of young man to share his life with. These characteristics then, in sum, make me eminently qualified to undertake this world trip. Moreover, it is something that I have discussed doing and very much wanted to do for a very long time. Thus, given that I am qualified, that I have a desire to do this, and have gone about preparing for it responsibly, there is every reason to carry on, and so carry on I will, until one of the above runs out or proves no longer true.
As an aside to our friends that have thus far been a blessing to us, we want you to know that it is because of you that we are on our way, and for that we are forever grateful to you, and look forward to the day when we can repay you in kind. Wherever we find ourselves in the future, you are always welcome, because you will have helped us get there and we in turn will be ready and willing to help you or anyone else who you know who needs a hand.
Our current status here in San Francisco is one of both physical and mental preparation. Ensuring that we have all the things we will need on our trip abroad, and parting with other things such as the trusty Dodge Neon that has carried me all over these great United States for over three years without fail. From here we head to Hawaii to catch up with some friends very close to my heart, and then will continue along to the international portion of our journey by heading to Australia. There we will seek work and trust yet again in the goodness of men to be able to continue our trip. From there we will travel from the couches of a friend to the spare rooms of family, slowly making our way around the world.
What is your "worldtrip?" What is that desire that lives inside you for which you are eminently qualified and which you are free to do? Consider the possibilities of fulfilling your own dreams and your own potential within the confines of your current life. Incorporate your own worldtrip into your life, and I promise you will start to learn things that you never thought about, or never imagined possible before you opened your mind to the idea. To be completely honest, we departed on this trip not knowing exactly what we sought, but I think for that reason and more we have begun to discover things that we never could have planned to seek. Perhaps you are living your world trip right now, and for this you are eternally blest. We would encourage you to share how you got there with others, in the hope that all of us may find what it is that we desire to do in the truest part of ourselves, and thereby seek to become the fullest and truest possible versions of the people we have the potential to become.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
The Grand Disappointment
From El Paso, and the grand time that it was, with plenty of celebrating with Cristina, Raúl, Yaya and the gang, as well as breakfast with my friend Gaby, we headed off for Phoenix, AZ. Though Texas was in and of itself quite hot upon our leaving, I texted my friend Andrew and learned that the temperature was to reach up to 108 degrees Fahrenheit the following day, and so it was upon our arrival. Thus, once there, we feasted on a chicken and pesto pasta meal, prepared by Andrew and his fianceé Genae. Then we simply crashed out for the evening, watching a documentary on baseball over the past 30 years or so, which recounted the strike, the home run race, and the fact that baseball was the only sport that, at least for a while, did not outlaw the use of steroids.
The next day brought a tour of Arizona State University albeit a short one as we quickly felt the effects of the heat and needed to relax and recuperate our strength. The summer heat of Arizona is comparable in some regard to the winter cold of the north, everyone stays inside, and only ventures out when the weather breaks. Thus we headed to Andrew's aunt and uncle's house in Scottsdale, a beautiful area encircled by dusty brown hills and populated with adobe styled feats of architecture. With fountains and much green to boot, they stand on some of the most expensive real estate in the country. After this we headed back to Andrew's place to enjoy an afternoon of college football! It was a great time to kick back and relax and catch up on a few things online. Life goes too fast sometimes, and it was nice to step back and just be.
Later that night we shared a lovely dinner at the Tortilla Factory in Scottsdale. An amazing salad and great service, it was a definite highlight of the time spent in Phoenix! Great company with Genae and Andrew. Hopefully we will be back in time for their wedding in June of next year!
The following morning we set out, with a little help from one of Andrew's friends, to the little town of Supai on the Havasupai Indian Reservation in northeast Arizona. We left a bit late, but caught some great shots of the sunset against the hills that surround the Grand Canyon, arriving to the town during the pitch black night. The road there takes you 60 miles through an arid landscape with a great deal of small trees, but we saw none of it, since we headed down the road so late. We traversed the whole stretch in pitch-black darkness interrupted only by a sudden bird, that mesmerized by the light flew directly into the driver's side of the windshield, scaring the living daylights out of Daniel, who continued the drive until we made it to the campsite. Once there, we rustled the men in the lead camper. I simply walked in, as the door was open, and the two men rolled over as I asked, "is this where you register?" They quickly informed me that I could wait until morning, so I headed to the car, and after a splendid meal of strawberries, chips, salsa, meat and cheese, Daniel crashed out in the car, and I in the tent right outside.
In the morning we started to hear the rumors of the rain that had affected those that had hiked down the day before. You must understand that we had heard from many different persons of the beauty of waterfalls including Havasu and Mooney, and that the hike is absolutely incredible!
The sunrise gave promise of a beautiful day for the hike down, which takes about a half a day, however the rumors of rain continued, and even as I watched, the storm clouds gathered over the canyon. It was an amazing sight, but I was not surprised when they decided to close down the canyon for the rest of the week.
Thus we took a few parting shots, and by mid-morning departed from the Grand Canyon. A disappointment to be sure. We could have headed back east to the south rim, but as it was we hesitated to go backwards on our journey west. So we headed for Nevada and the golden lights of Vegas!
The next day brought a tour of Arizona State University albeit a short one as we quickly felt the effects of the heat and needed to relax and recuperate our strength. The summer heat of Arizona is comparable in some regard to the winter cold of the north, everyone stays inside, and only ventures out when the weather breaks. Thus we headed to Andrew's aunt and uncle's house in Scottsdale, a beautiful area encircled by dusty brown hills and populated with adobe styled feats of architecture. With fountains and much green to boot, they stand on some of the most expensive real estate in the country. After this we headed back to Andrew's place to enjoy an afternoon of college football! It was a great time to kick back and relax and catch up on a few things online. Life goes too fast sometimes, and it was nice to step back and just be.
Later that night we shared a lovely dinner at the Tortilla Factory in Scottsdale. An amazing salad and great service, it was a definite highlight of the time spent in Phoenix! Great company with Genae and Andrew. Hopefully we will be back in time for their wedding in June of next year!
The following morning we set out, with a little help from one of Andrew's friends, to the little town of Supai on the Havasupai Indian Reservation in northeast Arizona. We left a bit late, but caught some great shots of the sunset against the hills that surround the Grand Canyon, arriving to the town during the pitch black night. The road there takes you 60 miles through an arid landscape with a great deal of small trees, but we saw none of it, since we headed down the road so late. We traversed the whole stretch in pitch-black darkness interrupted only by a sudden bird, that mesmerized by the light flew directly into the driver's side of the windshield, scaring the living daylights out of Daniel, who continued the drive until we made it to the campsite. Once there, we rustled the men in the lead camper. I simply walked in, as the door was open, and the two men rolled over as I asked, "is this where you register?" They quickly informed me that I could wait until morning, so I headed to the car, and after a splendid meal of strawberries, chips, salsa, meat and cheese, Daniel crashed out in the car, and I in the tent right outside.
In the morning we started to hear the rumors of the rain that had affected those that had hiked down the day before. You must understand that we had heard from many different persons of the beauty of waterfalls including Havasu and Mooney, and that the hike is absolutely incredible!
The sunrise gave promise of a beautiful day for the hike down, which takes about a half a day, however the rumors of rain continued, and even as I watched, the storm clouds gathered over the canyon. It was an amazing sight, but I was not surprised when they decided to close down the canyon for the rest of the week.
Thus we took a few parting shots, and by mid-morning departed from the Grand Canyon. A disappointment to be sure. We could have headed back east to the south rim, but as it was we hesitated to go backwards on our journey west. So we headed for Nevada and the golden lights of Vegas!
El Paso and Juárez from our perspective
So it all began in a little town north of the border by the name of “The Pass to the North,” which would later become affectionately known as “El Paso.” It is a unique place in that you drive south on Interstate 25 for several hours in New Mexico, and then at the very end, right before you hit Mexico, you find yourself in Texas. The whole vast expanse of Texas stretches to the east, all the way to the Gulf of Mexico and to the west, New Mexico and Arizona.
We arrived on a fairly hot day in September, when the football players were just beginning their practice. Our friend Cristina was busy upon our arrival, so we stayed and caught the end of practice at Franklin High School, and wrote out a few postcards. When she called we headed to her place and ran into a bear hug! With her was Yadira, whom I had met on the first trip down to see Gaby and Cristina. We had all gone out to a night club called “La Mulata” in Juárez, Mexico, and “Yaya” was our knowledgeable guide. It was so good to see them both after almost three years! I could not believe it had been so long.
We did not waste any time and in a minute we had everything out of the car and in the apartment and were on our way to Mickey’s. Once there we enjoyed a great Mexican dinner and gave the hostess a pleasant surprise in that we could actually speak Spanish! Jazmin joined us for dinner, and after we had eaten a bit, Gaby also came and it was an awesome reunion. All of a sudden the music started, a great Spanish song, with a very distinct sound to it. You must understand that we have a total of five CD’s in our car, and this song is one of the catchiest. Dan had started to sing it somewhat in jest, meanwhile we drove, and I’m not sure that he believed that it was a song that people actually listened to. Thus when the live band began to play “Suavemente” by Elvis Crespo, we jumped and were up and at it on the dance floor, practicing our salsa, merengue, and bachata skills. Great times!
The next day, we got up late and met Cristina for lunch at a place where the burritos were amazing, not quite as good as they would have been in Mexico, but we had made a promise not to cross the border. Let us hope that the situation improves in Juárez, so that next time we will be able to cross over and experience both cultures. At that lunch Cristina, who seems to know a little bit about everything, informed us that Juárez and El Paso are in fact the only cities on the Mexico/U.S. border that are separated only by a canal and a wall, and other than this are in fact one city. In other words, there is literally nothing between the two towns except for the canal and fence that form the border.
All of the other border towns including Tijuana and Nogales among others have a bit of distance between the Mexican city and the U.S. city, most at least 20 minutes. This fact then has interesting implications for the current issues in Juárez, since the proximity of the two cities would seem to make it somewhat easier to smuggle drugs across the border and also provides ample opportunity to cross at a variety of places and then blend in to the city on the other side. El Paso and Juárez, other from the border that divides them, are indistinguishable. From high atop the overlook at night, the lights unite, and in the distance the respective flags of the sister cities proudly fly. The unity of the cities is a beautiful thing to see, and I believe that it is a sign of what the future could bring.
It was interesting to hear the different perspectives on immigration and the unrest in Juárez while here. Unfortunately, we just do not have all of the information in the north. This said, Cristina informed us of an occurrence she was aware of, but that had not been publicized at all, not even in El Paso. And, as we learned when we headed to White Sands an hour north on Hwy 25, Mexican citizens are allowed to cross into El Paso, but may go no farther than 25 miles from the border, and if they do, may be arrested on the spot. This law of free passage back and forth, seems fair in and of itself, insofar as the two cities are truly one. As to the violence in Juárez, one of the contributors to the situation in Mexico was that the current president endorsed a different group of “narcotraficantes” (drug traffickers) than his predecessor, which in turn led to a fight over the strategically located city of Juárez. Initially the violence was limited to the interactions between these two groups and the police, who were also complicit with the narcotraficantes that paid them. But later, others took advantage of the violence to make their own gains. As the police and the two groups of “narcotraficantes” were occupied with one another, third parties began to extort people for their own personal gain because of the lack of justice to hold them accountable for their actions. For this reason, the nightly kidnappings, deaths, and ransoms have escalated and thus we ultimately decided, out of prudence, not to enter Mexico at this point in time. It is also important to note that most of what happens does go down at night, such that during the day, things are pretty much safe, as long as you know where to go. However the occurrences of late and the corresponding and well-founded fear that this has produced forced many to leave their businesses, and public posts, and either go underground or leave the city altogether. However, as I also understand, there are a great deal of people who remain living there, and are simply awaiting the end to the violence. Interestingly enough, the main reasons for the problems are, first of all, the insatiable consumption of drugs by people living in the US, the greed of the “narcotraficantes,” and the corruption of those in power in both countries.
There are individuals on both sides who are either openly or secretly complicit to the passage of the narco’s products, and that thereby allow the drugs to make it to the United States. A reform of policy on this topic would most certainly help to alleviate the problems in Juárez, and allow people like you and me to travel there and enjoy the cultural richness and people of a town that has simply ended up in a bad way due to human selfishness.
In light of recent occurrences and laws in Arizona, I also want to speak to the culture of the southwest, which to start, is very different, even between New Mexico and El Paso, Texas. To tackle the situation from a linguistic perspective, in New Mexico we heard the perspective of a teacher who is attempting to work in the already challenging public school system, who then has students and parents who refuse to learn English, and others who look down on her because she does not speak Spanish. In Las Cruces, New Mexico we encountered a waitress who appeared Hispanic, and being with Cristina and some other friends, I spoke to her in Spanish. Although she did not speak as well as I, she did her best to respond, supplementing with English where necessary, until I conceded to speak with her in English. But she made the effort. In El Paso itself, most people are bilingual, and as our friend Yadira commented, she will usually speak to someone in Spanish, because it is her first language, and then when she senses that the listener is having trouble she will switch to English. Again, very quick to accommodate people in whatever way necessary to effect communication. I believe the best scenario is one in which everyone is tolerant to one another’s linguistic abilities and shortcomings, and that there are alternatives available such as interpreters and/or translators that allow people to communicate with one another. It would be beneficial for people living in areas like El Paso to have the opportunity to learn both languages in order to be able to be so accommodating as the two persons mentioned above. In all, respect for one another in all circumstances is of the highest importance. It is however very interesting that the inability to communicate in one’s native tongue can lead us to such frustration and heated argument. This reality points to the crucial role of communication in our existence, and explains the division that inability to communicate in one language has wrought in humanity over the centuries. In order to fully understand the heated debate with regard to a national language and related issues, consider the situation of the Mexican workers who come to the United States. To start, think about a pivotal moment in your life, and then consider doing all the legwork and signing all of the paperwork in your foreign language. Yes the one you learned in high school and may have forgotten up to this point, but the one in which you likely have a greater amount of instruction than many Mexicans who come to the U.S. have in English. For example, you must go to the country that speaks your foreign language because there are no jobs where you are currently living (in an English-speaking culture) and so you must seek work legally/illegally in the foreign country. Certainly you would like to know more of the language, and certainly you have no right to demand that the country to which you have come provide everything to you in English, but realize the fact that you do not have enough money to feed your family, much less take English classes. So you have to do the best you can in the foreign language, until you get to a point where a part of your finances from your work may go toward English instruction. This is where many Mexican migrant workers find themselves. Certainly not all of them come for these reasons, but definitely a good number. I do believe that the better approach to these issues is not to continue to make it more difficult for immigrants to come in, but to work with Mexico in trying to help them help the people in their own country, such that there will be less need, and less reason for Mexicans to come to the United States. Many that I have spoken with do not even really enjoy living in the U.S. and would rather return to live in Mexico, if only they could find work to provide for their families there, as well as the safety that is ensured here in the U.S.
The geographic reality is that most of the cities and significant regional landmarks in the southern United States have Spanish names with anglicized pronunciations, and as such are adopted into the English language. Yes we annexed the land, and it is now part of the United States, however we must recognize the fact that we are all people, and that we share the land. Certainly the two government systems that are in place have their reasons and good points, but I believe that we share the land and we can do more to attempt to reach out to the people from which we are separated only by a border. The language and culture in the southern U.S. is truly not all that different from northern Mexico, so there is good reason to believe that we can work to improve the system currently in place such that we can find the best possible scenario for all concerned and ensure as much peace and prosperity as possible.
A long time in coming....
It's been awhile since the last post, and many things have transpired. We will be recounting them little by little as we spend our time here in San Francisco, where we will be until we fly out to Hawaii on October 19th. Our time thus far has consisted of catching up with our cousin Becky Falzone and her husband Tim and son Taylor. They are amazing people and have shown us a very good time thus far. More on the current moment to come, but for the time being I offer a reflection on our time in El Paso. Hope as well that you like the same look!
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