Three Must-See On Oah'u

If one is in Honolulu for a short stay, there are three must-see places on the island. They are: the ’Iolani Palace, the Polynesian Cultural Center and Pearl Harbor. This was according to the docent we met at ’Iolani Palace yesterday.
After waking up to another gray, drizzly morning, Bubba still thought we should explore. (I don’t have a problem staying indoors, in our view-friendly high-rise apartment, furnished with two plasma screen TVs. Though, I still prefer reading and have been picking up the Honolulu Advertiser on a daily basis.) Upon Bubba’s suggestion to head out, I decided we should visit ’Iolani Palace, a few blocks away. We admired a pretty gazebo along our pathway to the palace, only realizing later that this was the coronation spot of King Kalakaua and his Queen Kapiolani in 1883. The docent was right, ’Iolani is absolutely worth the visit at $12 admission. The palace is not overwhelming and looks more like a huge mansion but with a stately aura. We received audio handsets and a map and went on our self-guided tour after being issued a pair of blue hospital shoe covers to put over our shoes (so as not to scuff the Palace’s original koa floors). We took two hours to go through the palace’s two levels and the basement. Bubba said it was a very enjoyable history lesson. We walked through the grand interior, visiting each room and learned that it was the very first royal home to have electric lights, flushing toilets, hot and cold water faucets and a telephone, all custom built under the reign of King Kalakaua in 1882. Even Buckingham Palace did not have these things at the time. The worldly King and Queen loved to welcome international visitors and dignitaries by hosting banquets and balls. Our audio handset narration included background music and voices, bringing alive the heyday of the monarchy when the Royal Hawaiian Band would play on the verandas of the palace while the tropical tradewinds blew over from the picturesque Pacific just two blocks away. Today the palace is sparsely furnished as most of its relics were auctioned off after Queen Lili’uokalani was deposed by the US in 1893 but official annexation of Hawai'i wasn’t declared until 1898. We also learned that ’Iolani is the only royal palace in all of the USA, since our country was founded as a republic. Bubba and I spent the rest of the day emphatically thinking about the Hawaiian people and how the Queen peacefully stepped down from her throne to avoid potential bloodshed and conflict (though she was imprisoned for eight months inside the palace by the new provisional government). She did not issue a command to her people to take up arms.
At this moment, I am so impressed and refreshed by the attitude of the Hawaiians. We stand to learn a lot from them, their peaceful, easygoing nature. While we witness a slew of active separatist movements all around the world (some violent, some peaceful), such as the IRA, Tamils, Tibetans, Kurdish, Assyrians, Basque, Québécois and the list goes on, it is remarkable to see how the Hawaiian people overall, unresistingly adapted. In the face of such growing diversity on their islands today, the resourceful Hawaiians are so successful at espousing their own rituals and preserving their customs that even foreigners are inspired to join in. The hypnotic music, the magical hula, the arts and crafts, the luau and the idea of ‘aloha-aina' are passionately embraced and happily practiced by the outsider. -Long live the Hawaiian Heritage.

Hawaiian Goods

We woke up to two days of gray skies here in Oahu but the temps are still in the high 70s. We are still walking around in flip-flops, shorts and tank tops. The rain was heavier yesterday but it subsides quick.
Bubba and I are getting better acquainted with everything around us. Although, we are not in Waikiki, we are discovering that we are strategically located. We are in the heart of the financial district. We are a stone’s throw from Chinatown. Bus stops surround us on all blocks that take us around the island. There is a Long’s Drug Store downstairs in our building. Bubba and I run down there to pick up something at least once a day. I am in awe to find fish cake and sushi rolls in their dairy aisle. Their candy aisle is also filled with the dried fruits and rice cracker varieties normally found only in Asian markets. There is also a Safeway grocer a short walk away. Bubba and I went there, the second day we got here, with our roll-able luggage so we could stock up on groceries for the month. I also grabbed a big pack of toilet paper. Bubba sat the toilet paper on top of the luggage, as the inside was already full, and pulled it on our walk back to our apartment. We held hands and talked most of the way. We had people around us as we walked and it wasn’t until we were at the corner of our building that I noticed the toilet paper was gone. The entire 12-roll pack! Bubba figured it fell, since it wasn’t tied down. I suspected that we were the victims of TP thievery! We did see some homeless folks lingering. If the TP fell, someone would have alerted us. I traced our footsteps all the way back to Safeway and nothing. I thought it was a rather unusual Hawaiian welcome after that day.
It’s week two and Bubba and I are getting a better sense of our surroundings now. I found two excellent and addictive tapioca drink shops in the Maunakea Marketplace in Chinatown. Their drinks are much bigger here. For less than $3, all tapioca drinks come in 24-oz cups and fresh, fresh fruits are used for the smoothies. There is also a 24-Hour Fitness down the street where I'll try to talk my way into a free pass (but New Year's is their busiest time).
I have made a list of must have knick-knacks before leaving here. Bubba has already shipped cases of macadamia chocolates and cookies home to family and friends. What I want is a gorgeous sterling silver bangle, I see the island girls wear. It is a bracelet etched with plumerias and the word “kuuipo” on it, meaning, sweetheart.
Next week, we will have a rental car and we will drive around the island so we can see every edge of it. I heard about the swap meet at the “stadium” and will make sure Bubba makes a stop there first. If for some reason, we don’t find everything, we will make a final shopping stop at the International Market Place in Waikiki. We know it well, after all, that is where Bubba found me a coconut bra and a faux lei.

A Foreign Sensation

The wedding we came to Hawaii for has passed. The ceremony and reception took place at the Hale Koa (pronounce: holly ko-a) an impressive military-owned and operated hotel in Waikiki. We have been so busy attending parties leading up to this wedding. It was the marriage of two of Bubba’s top Army students. The bride, who is a Hawaiian native, spent four years studying in San Francisco and was able to rely on Bubba for guidance and support. She often referred to him as her ‘surrogate’ dad and therefore we were welcomed to all the private family functions. We joined her family on multiple get-togethers, gaining a taste of islander life.
We rode with the family in their vehicles to their neighborhoods near the North Shore and were served up a variety of ono dishes. We had barbequed oysters, piles of fresh sashimi, taco poke (marinated octopus and squid) and lasagna. We saw the terrain of rising lush green mountains, rolling canyons, pineapple fields and banana trees. We are also guaranteed to see at least three rainbows a day…as it is the rainy season. In between the warm, sunny and blue skies, rain will suddenly come down, but only in droplets, lightly misting the skin.
I have been hit by a particularly strong and unusual impression while traveling around town by bus and foot. It is the impression that I am not on American soil. For some reason, it is this combination of sights: the islanders (dark hair and tan skin—of either Asian or Polynesian descent), the residential high-rises and the casual attire and attitude that falsely causes me to think that I am overseas…somewhere in Asia.
The mere act of US annexation of a century ago does not override the fact that this is a tropical isle strongly rooted to its Polynesian heritage. I am again under this deceptive ‘overseas’ trance when I watch the exotic hula dance performed while a melodious vowel-laced chant (laden with the consonant-k) is sung against the beat of a drum. There are moments I have flashbacks of Macau and Hong Kong as I look up at all the high-rises in Honolulu and Waikiki.
Our last taxi driver told me that high-rise condos are sold out before they are even built and he is perplexed. Well, perhaps it’s the blue skies, blue water, sunshine, sand and surf, the ono food and the laid-back island feel....
For me, it’s all of the above. It’s being welcomed with a smile and a cheerful ‘aloha’ wherever we go. I even asked Bubba if he’d be interested in staying on another month....

Warm Winter Wonderland

We flew into Honolulu on Monday, almost a week already. Bubba and I have been bitten by the ‘Polynesian-Paralysis’ bug, as my native-islander friend, Lou would term it. The weather is so warm and inviting and I wished I brought more summer clothes. Bubba likes how the heat feels on his body and remarks often how clean the air is. We took a taxi and found our way up to our condo with ease on day one.
Our bedroom is on the 21st floor with tall glass windows facing west. Since we are in downtown Honolulu, we have a view of the surrounding business high rises but we are also able to see the busy harbor and the Pacific. Waikiki is actually 2.5 miles away. I scanned a handful of literature (found this to be my favorite piece) prior to beginning our exploration on foot. We figured out the bus system right away, riding them to Waikiki everyday. On day two, I chose a morning walk through Chinatown after reading that there are tapioca drinks and Vietnamese sandwiches to be found. I also learned that leis are absurdly cheap here in this district as opposed to the prices at the airport and Waikiki. The typical purple orchid goes for $25 at the airport, $10 in Waikiki but I found it at Lin’s flower shop in Chinatown for only $3. I bought a variety of the life-like foam flower clips for my hair for only $3. (Single girls wear it on the right and committed girls on the left.)
While produce shopping, I noticed the scarcity of variety for sale. Back in SF, it is normal to find lettuce and celery stalks sold by the quantity but here it’s by weight. I suppose that the island can’t grow too much produce as most of its land is committed to sugar cane, macadamia nuts and pineapples. Hawaii is actually the name of the biggest island. When we refer to Hawaii, we could be referring to any of the string of islands out here, with the six largest considered the main islands. We are currently on the island of Oah’u. It is seat to the state’s capital, Honolulu. Waikiki is here and it is indeed a tourist phenomenon. From the towering Hilton to the Hyatt hotels, tourists can stroll on over to the shores of Waikiki Beach in a few steps. Bubba and I spent part of the day sunning in our street clothes, carving ourselves a square in the sand amidst the bustling, international sun and surf-seeking crowd. We watched as perfect-bodied teenage girls pranced through Kalakaua Avenue, pronounced: Kala-ko-a, (a strip that resembles a longer Rodeo Drive, with its trendy, upscale shops) in their mini bikinis and people of all ages toting giant surf boards heading to and away from the beach.
Our 30-day vacation here is already passing by much too fast. Bubba wants to get away from this concrete jungle to find the waterfalls and the rock formations…and we will likely rent a car in search of those things. The words, ‘paradise found’ echoes constantly in my ear, when we stare out at the blue pacific ocean and feel the hot, golden sun drumming on our skin. What a warm, wonderland we are experiencing this winter.

Lifelong Pain Management

Bubba’s recent neuro-cauterization procedure on his feet at the VA Hospital (which entails the burning of nerve endings to eliminate chronic pain) will be a regular part of his medical routine. In my last five years with Bubba, I am guilty of being rather lackadaisical in my attitude towards his degree of ‘pain and suffering’. During these years of cohabitation, waking up at night to find him afflicted by his insomnia is natural to me. I have also become accustomed to seeing him ball up into the fetal position with a pained look on his face daily, waiting for his medication to kick in. I listen to him wish out loud that he could be given a new set of feet. Every morning, I set a thermos cup of hot tea (black, peach flavored-his favorite) on his nightstand while he is in his period of deepest slumber. Upon waking, he reaches for the cup of tea to help down his handful of pills so he can begin to function upright within a few hours. I haven’t really considered the degree of torment he endures. Bubba suggested to his doctors he may suffer from fibromyalgia (he identifies with the symptoms), but they did not concur. Bubba was steered away from expecting an exact diagnosis leading to a cure and rather to accept a lifelong management of his pain via prescribed drugs.
It was the part of ‘no cure versus management’ that provoked me to really sense Bubba’s pain. When I broke my foot this summer, the inability to walk irritated me. The annoying throbbing and deep, internal pain of the broken bone kept me up some nights but alas, in my case, bones grow back.
What Bubba suffers is irreversible damage to his body from the numerous assignments he executed as a special-operations soldier. The parachuting into foreign territory in the dead of night, the bearing of excess weight of the survival gear strapped to him, the trekking of miles upon miles of varied terrain in varying temps in a pair of heavy combat boots, and most of all, the mental and physical strain required to ensure his own survival and of his brothers-in-arms...these missions broke his body.
It was this sudden empathy with Bubba's persistant pain that led me to find Joan Didion’s book, The Year of Magical Thinking. She lost her husband, abruptly, one night, over dinner, when he collapsed from a coronary at the dining table. Her book records the immediate year in which she has to cope with his absence. We get a peek into her wavering mind. She forgets he is gone then she struggles with the absoluteness of it all, then her mind deceives her with vivid memories (afterall, they were married for 40-years) and then she delves into the science of it by understanding the exact nature of a heart-attack and how the human body expires.
The story compelled me to reflect on developing more patience and love. Bubba has spent his life struggling with survival and coping with the loss of his own father, a veteran of the Vietnam War. Didion’s words reminded me on the frailty of life and the need to preserve each moment in harmony. We are resigned to mere memories in the end.

The Golden Rule of Garage Sales

In between the wrapping of knick knack Christmas gifts and card writing (to a list of global recipients) and daily runs to the UPS counter, I have managed to avoid writing anything at all on my blog. This whole weekend was also committed to overseeing a garage sale solo, without Bubba. (He's resting after a neuro-cauterization procedure on his feet.) At first, I didn’t like the idea of manning a garage sale alone. Sometimes a swarm of people will come all at once and their demands will scatter me thin: to collect on a sale, to negotiate with bargain hunters, to watch out for the less ethical and to discipline the ultra curious and energetic kids. I also have this habit of recording everything that is sold. But, it all turned out just fine this weekend. There’s an art to selling that we are mastering with each progressive sale. In our case, we already got rid of all the big ticket stuff, now we’re just selling excess...still likely some other person’s treasure. The secret is to let it go cheap. Buyers will feel they’ve hit the jackpot and my small earnings will add up with every piece I sell. For instance, Bubba just cleaned closet and threw out some nice button shirts and slacks. I hung them all up and priced them at a dollar. (What we don't end up selling, we'll donate anyhow.) On a recent visit to Goodwill, I saw such a considerable mark-up on their recycled goods. I was shocked to see a $15 price tag on a used, aged purse (not even luxury brand). I figured I’m doing some bargain hunter a favor by letting them pick from my assortment at rock bottom prices. So this whole weekend, I called out prices just in case some were too bashful to inquire. I’d say, “That’s 50 cents and all the clothes here are $1.00.”
The neighbors on the block all say they can’t muster up the energy or the audacity to sell from their garage. I think I also do it as a social experiment. It is entertaining to observe people shop and sometimes an acquaintanceship is formed. Random conversations are struck up over a piece of item. The pile of maps we are selling for a dime each, for instance, led to a gentleman informing me he is originally from Boston. Then, I told him we just drove across the country. Then he proceeded to tell me he is an artist and did drawings for newspapers in the 70’s in Boston. The newspapers he worked on then became the prototype for newspapers such as the SF Weekly and the Bay Guardian today, he informed. I told him the newsroom is also familiar to me as I have a Journalism degree and our banter continued for awhile and concluded with us shaking hands though no sale ensued from this particular scenario. Now and then, we encounter folks who are delighted to meet real veterans for the first time and they almost, always pose the identical question of whether military life is agreeable.
December has been a busy month for us, what with Bubba’s birthday, my mom’s birthday and the Christmas cheer we are wrapping up and shipping all over the globe. I’m looking forward to checking into our Waikiki condo when we leave for Hawaii next week.
To steal a little escape, I curled up with another book. This one by Joan Didion, a writer whose essays I recall reading in college. Her book, The Year of Magical Thinking documents her journey as she processes her husband’s sudden death. I finished the book in two days, completely absorbed by the author’s unremitting walks down memory lane. Not to inundate my readers with a text heavy book report, I’ll save my thoughts on Didion’s intense oeuvre for another entry.

Bubba's Birthday Bash

We celebrated Bubba’s birthday yesterday. I was able to pull off a nicely cooked Korean meal of bulgogi and side dishes consisting of rice, pickled cucumbers and bean sprouts. A few of Bubba’s Army students came over to join us in the celebration. We picked up some take-out of fried rice, chow-mein, fried drummettes and kimbap to round out the smorgasbord of goodies. While prepping several dishes all at once in an orderly fashion, I managed to bake a brownie cake at the same time for Bubba. Worrying about the food getting cold as we were setting the dining table, Bubba advised us to dig in quickly. In our haste to eat, we forgot to take pictures of the delightfully crowded table of platters. We managed to snap a few shots of Bubba blowing out the candles on his brownie cake at the end of the night but that was all.
We even forgot to take pictures as he opened up his presents. I successfully picked up a piece of mineral jet for him and a bottle of his favorite aftershave by Eddie Bauer on his little girl, Kat’s, behalf. I gave Bubba a heated, back massager seat and his older daughter gave him a book he requested by Bill Bryson. His Army students gave him the movie 300 and a pecan pie with Martinelli’s cider to celebrate.
We flipped through our DVD case to decide on a movie to wind down the night with. We thought Elf would be an appropriate seasonal pick but instead selected Malibu’s Most Wanted to get a good laugh out of Jamie Kennedy’s performance.
I parted with the movie, Amélie from my personal collection by loaning it to one of the students. I watched this movie five times in France, where the actual title of the movie is: Le fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain. I only rediscovered the film recently when I suggested that my friend with the new condo watch the movie for interior decorating ideas. For nostalgic reasons, I decided I had to own the movie. I haphazardly stumbled upon a new copy for a reasonable $20 at Green Apple Books a week ago, much less than the used copies advertised on Amazon.
And...just as I suspected, the movie incited me to daydream and long: I'm speaking in a foreign tongue, making my way around Paris riding the metro daily (well, let’s pretend there isn’t a transit strike), wandering along the banks of the Seine and buying a fresh baguette loaf before going home to my own little space in that part of the world.--Hmmm, gonna have to work on my power of persuasion with Bubba....

Diamond In The Rough

Kat left for Tennessee on Sunday. She is more and more womanly each time we meet. She arrived on a Wednesday night in skinny jeans and high platform heels…her teen years finally affecting her sense of fashion. I was a little taken aback by her grown-up image. She looked like a young woman rather than a girl. There are some moments I detect her flaunting this teenage hubris and it is intimidating, but underneath it all, she is genuinely natural and sweet.
Before she left, I reminded her of her father’s upcoming birthday and if she can think of anything she wanted to get him. She hadn’t any idea. I suggested either something electronic or the polished crystals that he likes so much. Without hesitation, she generously handed me $50 to buy something for him.

I feel for Kat as she talks about the dramas of high-school life. I feel like I’m watching the movie, Mean Girls again, but this time, Kat cast as Lindsay Lohan’s character. As Kat is in the midst of this conflict (and she is only a freshman!!), I am happy to witness her resilience to the rumors, gossip and jealousy that surrounds her each day. As this is all part of the coming-of-age process, there’s nothing I can tell her now that will make any difference. In fact, my message would be a little demoralizing, if I were to tell her that life is about competition and she will experience many more sessions and scenarios like these throughout. It would be wrong of me to tell her that she will likely encounter a quarter-life crisis and then a mid-life crisis…that she’ll always have a full plate to deal with.
She is a trooper, though and I adore her for what she teaches me about life and love. This summer she has accidentally called me, “mom” several times and though we laugh at this slip, somehow it warms my heart. She said her own mother refers to me as her ‘stepmom.’ What a magnificent collision, me and Bubba...and this package he brought along: Kat. There is justice after all in this mad, mad world.

Ham Dinner and Pie Production

I finished reading, Eat Pray Love. Then I went a few days literature-less. I had to let the story sink in. I didn’t want to impede my mind with any other images after having joined the author on her whirlwind journey. I found myself liking the idea of consuming more Elizabeth Gilbert, though. She wrote another book called, The Last American Man where she chronicles an actual man (Eustace Conway) who renounces modern life to return to living in and amongst the wild. The plot reminds me of Bubba and his brother and their skills in living off the land. I checked with the public library and found that all copies of this book have already been borrowed or reserved.
We celebrated Thanksgiving with Bubba’s girls at my mom’s. Kat flew in from Tennessee for the holiday break. Her and her older sister took to the kitchen and made the desserts since Bubba and I opted for the pre-made ham meal from Safeway. (However, even that required a few hours of reheating.)
I tended to the dishes while the girls worked on appetizers and two different pies. Kat made deviled eggs, mashed potatoes and a pumpkin spice pie and tasked her older sister to make a chocolate pecan pie. The pumpkin pie crust came out a bit undercooked while the chocolate pecan pie came out with a burnt crust and an uncooked soupy chocolate center. (I suggested we treat the pie like a fondue dip.) The pre-made ham dinner was ok. The sides were not worth bragging about. The scalloped potatoes, corn medley and green beans all tasted very preserved and salty. We referred to the green beans as rubber beans.
After the meal, (I really only filled up on the fresh mashed potatoes and a bottle of champagne), my mother and I talked about how the grand production of Thanksgiving never really capably satisfies the palate. She suggested that a meal of barbequed NY steaks or even my kalbi specialty would have been more appropriate. We agreed that the next traditional meal be a little less traditional. (For Christmas, Bubba and I will be winging it solo in Hawaii, so maybe we’ll find a luau or something to go to....)

A Phrase In Every Language

I am still reading the book, Eat Pray Love. I am towards the tail end of Gilbert’s story. The last chapter covers the time she spends in Bali, Indonesia. The second section was on her four-month pilgrimage to an ashram in India. It took a while for me to digest her heavy and heady descriptions of her spiritual experiences. Now I am coasting along with her in Bali, meeting a slew of characters and I don’t want the story to end. The author brings up such an array of insights.
There’s a humorous part in her book where she talks about “pretty power.” Simply put, beauty is an asset and can serve as a tool. It reminded me of all the über-attractive people I’ve known in life and how their looks did enable rules to be bent. There’s my friend, Jill who lives and works in DC now. We went to school in France together in 2000, a year before the travesty of airport security began. She showed up at the airport to discover that she had no flight reservation on file, even though she paid a travel agent. With her looks and charm, no doubt, the airline agent (a guy) ran her through security and forced boarded her on the departing plane bound for France. There have been countless other episodes I’ve witnessed of beauty at play.

While hanging out at my friend’s new condo the other night, her neighbor/colleague, Lea, came over. Lea wants to do a quick winter hop over to Spain but she does not want to go alone. Her other option is to travel with an ex-boyfriend. I encouraged Lea to go solo and promised her that she will meet the most extraordinary people. Lea described the courage of her sister, a petite blond, who has traveled the world solo, but it was an incident where her sister encountered a crazy in Greece and literally got beat up that holds Lea back.
I can recall my very first transatlantic trip at age 22 and I shared it with Lea, to give her reassurance. I booked a flight to Paris, France shortly after my then boyfriend, Daniel, suddenly died from complications of an asthma attack. He was only 24. I can still remember the intensity of my grief. I figured life was too short and it was time to see the world. I arrived at the Paris airport disoriented. I followed the mass and somehow boarded the right subway train that took me to the location of a hostel I had reserved in advance for $20 a night. When I ascended from the subway station, my eyes were treated to the most delightful sights; colorful storefronts, a veritable boulangerie and slender, pretty women in chic fashion walking amongst the hustle and bustle of rush-hour. After checking in that evening to my bunk-bed dorm room in this historical-mansion-turned-hostel (the sexes are separated), I was befriended by one of my roommates, a Korean girl who spoke perfect English. She was majoring in French literature at the Sorbonne. She described Paris to me and though it was late, she took me on a tour of Paris via subway. The following days, the hostel filled with other travelers. I met some Australian girls and other Americans who quickly became my traveling companions. Therefore, the lesson here, I told Lea, is the guarantee of finding new friends, if we put ourselves in that position.
To combat this universal fear of being alone in a foreign place, I have developed my own sure-fire technique to deal with trouble. I make myself learn important phrases such as: “Help Me”, “Leave Me Alone” and “I am Sorry” in all the languages of the places I visit. It helps to be able to have a psychological edge when encountered with an unforeseen. I have told panhandling gypsies in Italy to leave me alone after the initial and polite "Mi dispiace" fails. I have learned to keep, "Au Secours!", on the tip of my tongue through France. My story only caused my friend to insist the more that I go along with Lea on this trip. But, with the need to continue budgeting, unfortunately now is not the right time, Bubba and I have a lot more saving to do before another big, big adventure.

Still Some Routines

Come to think of it, I’m not a real routines-renouncer right now…I still have a daily set of rituals. Everyday, I wake up at 8:30 am. I put on a pot of coffee and I sit down in front of the computer to read the daily news on MSN. If something strikes me as interesting, I will spend the next few hours reading related, peripheral articles. If not, I will turn on the radio and hula hoop with music for a while.
I’ve had a voluminous week filled with errands and erratic moods. I started out my week by lugging a few bags of clothing to sell at Crossroads Trading Company. A friend turned me on to this concept of selling or trading our unwanted clothing. I was pretty impressed with the ability to swap my stuff for cash or for someone else’s unwanted stuff. I used to bring in jackets or shirts (it has to be in re-sellable and fashionable condition) to exchange for a purse or a pair of shoes. It’s also a place people bring in gifted clothing that did not suit their taste, so it’s common to find new, unworn stuff. I visited three of the four Crossroads stores in the city and successfully sold pieces at each one. I would have walked away with extra cash in hand, if it weren’t for my browsing. I ended with adding a darling Kenneth Cole leather jacket to my wardrobe.
Bubba and I went to UPS to ship out some magazines and Christmas paraphernalia to some US troops we know in Iraq. We happily learned that they will package the goods free of charge, if it is going to a soldier. (We just pay the postage.)
I spent an afternoon reading a featured series on MSN entitled: Startup Nation. It listed the top 100 start-up businesses in the nation. I devoured the articles with curiosity, scanning the businesses that I found intriguing and closest to my heart. Three of them caught my attention; there is a woman who sets up culinary trips to Italy; an American couple who renounced their professions as doctor and lawyer to provide real estate savvy and service in France; and a woman who found her niche helping property owners market their homes to vacationers.
The article jumpstarted my juices as I imagined the intricate network and connections I’d need to explore to create a start-up product that feels natural to me. But nothing solid manifested…which then led to a day of boredom and swinging moods. I reserved myself to a day of silence until my good friend, who I haven’t seen since we both left town for the summer, paid me a visit. She recently purchased her first home after devoting herself to a steady bio-tech job for five plus years. She felt she was in the position to buy. We went to her scantly furnished condo envisioning the different interior decorating possibilities. I was absorbing the fact that she now has her very own space and she does not need to answer to anyone. I felt envious (though not of the mortgage) and wondered how it’d feel the day I would be unlocking the key to my own home. Though, Bubba kept a lovely roof over my head the last five years, we didn’t have anything permanent. I like the idea of permanence but it conflicts with my current principle of being transient. As ever, my quest continues for my happy medium.

Decluttering and a Gnawing Wanderlust

The sun was out today, after a week of gray skies. We had another garage sale. Today was a good day. We sold off more clutter, especially the bigger things that have been taking up space. We sold a wheelchair (we had 3, now only 1) and two large pieces of exercise equipment. We found buyers for our inversion table and our Gazelle. Perhaps the new owners will treat them much the same way we did, be dazzled by their novelty, use them consistently the first week and then banish them into a corner in the basement or garage.
It’s a good feeling, this decluttering. For a few moments, as our stuff is being sold, there is always a slight regret on my part on whether I might need that particular item in the future, but then again, all this relinquishing is definitely enabling us to become more mobile.
Bubba treated me to the book, Eat Pray Love, on Friday. What a story, what a writer. I found myself laughing out loud and completely absorbed by Elizabeth Gilbert’s style. In just one day, I plowed through the first 36 chapters, which covered her Italy trip. The last two sections cover her India and Indonesia trips. As I carry on with my bookworm behavior, I noticed that Bubba has developed a taste for anime and Asian films. He has been on a video-watching marathon. I’m on one side of the bed obsessed with my books and Bubba is on the other side, watching his movies (reading subtitles) with TV headphones on, so as not to disturb me with sound.
These entertainment escapes are definitely stirring up my wanderlust. I am so eager for a trip abroad. I suggested to Bubba that Korea be our next destination. I’ll line up an English teaching job, we will get an apartment and we can spend our days absorbing the culture and eventually the language. It is living amongst a foreign people that we come to realize how similar we really are. I can still remember reading a magazine interview with a US astronaut. The astronaut talked about looking back on planet Earth from outer space. In witnessing such a spectacular scene, the astronaut said it puts everything into perspective, we are reminded how we are all part of the human race.

Take Copious Notes

After being revisited by the memory of my nanny job in France, I realized that I must take better notes, ample notes. It’s disappointing that I merely file these special memories away into a vault somewhere inside my cranium. I suppose that is why I haven’t succeeded at being published, yet. I don’t take enough notes and the notes I do take, they discriminate. I won’t be forgetting any time soon the rendezvous my friend and I had in Spain, when I talked us on board a French Navy sailboat docked at the Barcelona pier. Or the time I successfully invited the two waiters at the tapas-bar to take us out with simple Spanish words I recalled from high school: “Aquí-cerrar-qué-hora?-Bailamos-salsa-esta-noche-Sí?” With the broken Spanish I strung together, I charmed the boys into agreeing. “I’ll take the blonde,” I told my traveling bestfriend, Tonya. “He looks like Ricky Martin.”
Nope, these memories don’t get filed and tucked away into oblivion.
I have been rereading the book, “What I know Now, Letters to My Younger Self.” The author sought out well-known, self-made women and asked them to pick a significant time in their younger days and to write a letter addressing this youthful version with the wisdom they have now. Some of the participants included: make-up magnate, Trish McEvoy; US Senator, Barbara Boxer; singer, Macy Gray and TV correspondent, Ann Currie.
Most of these letters addressed an apprehension they’ve had in their youth. I imagined taking on this exercise. At what point in my life would I write myself a letter? I admit that I am very happy with most of the big choices I made in life, such as studying and living abroad and performing military service. Of course, in hindsight, there are always some things we wished we did. I would have found a way to invest in real estate in France back then, when the US dollar was strong. But I was young and didn’t have a stable income. I would have stayed longer in that military meeting that was recruiting women for special ops missions, but I left early.
There is a lot I know now, but best of all, I have become more self-assured and not struggling with my self-esteem. Luckily this is the beauty of being in our 30s and I hear, our 40s (and beyond).
The letter I write would address me in the present. It would simply tell me to take copious notes of my world, as it goes by, for it may make a very enjoyable book someday.

American Nanny in France

I finished reading the book French Lessons yesterday. Suddenly, stark images I haven't recalled for years, played out before me while my eyes were still open: a tastefully furnished room with stone-tiled floors and an antique-looking gold-rimmed mirror hanging above a fireplace. There were window doors all around letting in bright light. I was sitting in this room with little Pierre, the boy I watched on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
It was through a network of French friends that I met Pierre’s family in the town of Aix-en-Provence, where I spent a college year. Pierre’s father wanted him to be exposed to English. My job, at the rate of 50 FF per hour (about $7 per the exchange rate in 2000: $1 USD to 7 FF) was to pick 8-year old Pierre up from his school, accompany him the one-mile walk home and to talk to him in English until another guardian returned home, either his sister in college or the dad who commuted weekly via air and rail to a job in Paris.
The job became more like a pro-bono gig as I treated Pierre to a mini quiche or ice cream after school. (The little schtinker tricked me into buying him a chocolate bar my first day on the job saying he was allowed.) I came to learn his dad was a single parent. I got the impression his mom succumbed to a personal, bohemian calling and left for a life wandering abroad. She sent her son postcards from Africa and gift packages from India and Canada.
The forbidden after school snacks were my way of animating his childhood. I also bought him coloring books. In the exchange, I ended up learning more French than he learned English. He did not like it when I spoke to him in English. He did not like repeating after me as his French accent was so pure and thick. He would simply respond to me in French telling me he didn’t understand my foreign tongue. To show his dad that we were at least progressing, I made up games to help young Pierre learn to recite the alphabet and to count in English. That he did. The rest of the time, I made sure his homework was done and he'd chat with me, training my ears to colloquial French while we sat in that living room until his sister came home to relieve me. As I walked back to my studio in the heart of town in the evening hours, I admired the town’s architecture, the hidden alleyways and the signature shutters that dressed each window. I remember feeling so attached to the town and how everything felt so magical. I remember wishing that my life there would never end.
I also remembered Pierre’s teary eyes and his rants for his mother when I explained to him that it would soon be time for me to depart his beloved country for my home....

Hula Hoopin' Away

Bubba was busy tending to his vehicle this weekend so we didn’t have a garage sale as I had hoped. I wanted to sell off more clutter. It’s entertaining watching passerbys browse our goods and decide to buy things they may not necessarily need, such as a propane lantern with a tripod or a router saw. I get flustered with those who talk prices down even though we are already selling for bottom dollar. Bubba has an excellent method to deal with these characters. When someone tries to reduce a price in half, Bubba will double it on the spot. Someone who offers fifty cents on a one dollar item will be told it now costs two dollars. They normally retort, “But you said it was only $1.00!” With the rude ones, Bubba will simply say it is no longer for sale. I’m unable to attempt this method with a straight face so I have learned to name a higher price and to wait for a lower offer.

We had a warm weekend. Having read to the brink of eye exhaustion, I decided it was time to take myself out for a brisk walk or jog. My attempt to run for the first time since my fracture in July did not fare well. My left foot felt swollen in my shoe. My new set of x-rays explained it all. The fractured bone recalcified along the sides but not the center. I still have a crack in the center. Because I sustained it as a ‘spiral fracture’ and I didn’t have any medical intervention, the bone will have a harder time piecing itself back together. Seeking medical help now means the doctors will have to re-break the bone to insert a screw. (I still don’t have insurance, either.) So, I’m done with running for awhile. How depressing. Running is like zen to me. Desperate for an endorphin rush, I suddenly mastered the hula hoop this weekend. I have never even owned one. I spent a day researching online literature on how to hula hoop and I asked Bubba for a slow demonstration. I was absolutely determined to learn it. After trying repeatedly in hiding, I figured it out! Now, I intend to hula hoop everyday!

Literary Escape

The weather here has been swinging. Cold and hazy one day, warm and bright the next... makes for calamitous moods. My spirit is dampening, as I await the next big adventure. There’s been friction going on in my world. As much as I find myself missing San Francisco, I somehow can’t keep myself contained here. I spent years past escaping it. I’ve trained and traveled all over with the military. I even found myself relocating to France for a college year. I used to catch a winter flight to Europe annually and would rather brave the ice cold in the old world than the new.
This need to keep moving is invading me again. I have been difficult with Bubba and my mom. If it weren’t for our complicated set-up, I think I’d be in Europe now, finding sun in Spain or eurailing from France to Italy on an overnight train. But since our Hawaii trip is on the horizon I have to learn to accept this temporary monotonous lifestyle. Books are the only thing cheering me up. Put me in a bookstore and my contentment resumes. I’ve been spoiled by small town thrift stores this summer, bagging up dozens of books with the coins in my wallet. I have to get used to paying with bills for the second-hand books here. I just finished reading the novel, 'Balzac and the little Chinese Seamstress.' The title grabbed my attention. What an extraordinary meeting of worlds! Besides being a Francophile, I have always wanted to hear more stories about the Cultural Revolution in China and the enforcers and the enforced subjects of this ‘reformist’ movement. The book was described as an overnight sensation and I, too was seduced by the book, finishing it within 2 days.
Now I am on the prowl for more books to get me through this month. I picked up ‘French Lessons’ by Peter Mayle, author of the bestselling, ‘A Year In Provence.’ I plan to pick up the book, 'Eat Pray Love.' Oprah featured it but it wasn’t the endorsement that sold me. It was skimming the first page where the author, Elizabeth Gilbert described her language exchange tryst with a young Italian in Rome. Her description revitalized my memories; there I was singing along with a group of Italians playing acoustic guitar on the Spanish Steps on a hot summer night; there I was walking to a Parisian laundromat holding a glass of red wine; there I was having drinks with newly made international, traveler friends in a hillside café in Portugal; there I was looking out the bus window and seeing the breathtaking views of the town Ventimiglia as we drove out of France and into Italy. Alas…books for now are my only escape.

With Research, Name Dropping Works

We made it back to foggy San Francisco a few days ago.
Our detour to Nevada didn’t solve the service engine light problem. The dealer shop there came up with a different fix but they actually did it by the book by calling the corporate tech line. The problem was diagnosed as an impaired fuel pump. The part we needed would take two days. Even though the lights of the Las Vegas strip were beguiling, I told Bubba we should just go the final stretch and make it back to the bay to do the repairs. We wouldn’t have to worry about constant nightly lodgings. The mechanic assured us we could make the drive, but to go slow.
After having researched all the sources to levy a complaint against the Mitsubishi folks in Oklahoma, I decided to reach out one last time to the powers-that-be, in the event we sue, and a court of law asks if we had exhausted all of our avenues of negotiation.
I called Fowler back a second time demanding the General Manager. The secretary did not respond well. Perhaps I had an aggressive tone. I should know by now that honey definitely catches more flies but their company’s aloof disposition pushed me to the edge. The secretary refused to give me her name and ran her game of interference by stating everyone was in a meeting or unavailable. Feeling helpless, I resorted to name dropping. I told her that I am in the midst of filing a complaint with the State Attorney General’s office against them. I did my research and named Assistant Attorney General, Ms. Jane Wheeler of the Consumer Protection Unit as being fully aware of my potential complaint. Furthermore, J.D. Powers and Associates would be hearing about their incompetence very soon. With that, she got the General Manager on the line. Once he came on, I bestowed as much calm and respect as possible. I explained how his mechanics failed to fix our car and we’re out $500. He seemed to listen intently and promised to get to the bottom of the issue. I added that his dealership’s repute would be marred once I begin my ‘letter writing campaign’ and State A.G. complaint. Bubba and I planned to send letters to every dealership in the state of Oklahoma including the Mitsubishi Corporate Board in Tokyo, Japan describing the dealership’s poor business practices. However, we informed the General Manager we were giving him the benefit of addressing the problem with us first.
The manager agreed to call us back within the hour. He did not. I asked Bubba to make the final call and I’d log all the details. I knew I would unleash my fury on the phone and the secretary would likely terminate the call. Bubba was polite and professional. The manager sounded defeated. He said he needed to stand by his team of employees but he would send a check back to us, refunding our money.
We are still waiting for the check to come in the mail. Bubba thinks we should still file the complaints because someone after us may suffer unnecessarily.

It’s nice to be back in my neck of the woods. I forgot how much traffic there is. When we passed through Holbrook, Arizona recently so I could buy my geodes and rocks, we were stuck at a railroad crossing for nearly 30 minutes. The cars backed up but nobody seemed stressed or in a hurry. Everyone turned off their cars and waited patiently. I could just imagine the frenzied honking or the U-turns, if such a hold-up happened here. That’s the nice part about being in these small towns across the USA.
We started de-cluttering this weekend as well. Bubba finally decided to part with all the Halloween masks he has been collecting over the years. We had a garage sale and got rid of a lot of stuff in storage. We figured that if we spent four months with only one shared suitcase (besides his camping, first-aid and etcetera paraphernalia in the truck) we can continue with this conservationist mode.

Service Engine Soon, Detour Hassle, Amex Rules

We should be in California today, but we’re in Nevada instead. Had we continued on our I-40 route, we may have witnessed the So-Cal fires. My heart goes out to those displaced. I have family there. They said the fire is visible all around but their area of Orange County is thankfully unaffected.
This Nevada detour is due to car problems. Our ‘service engine soon’ light came on in Oklahoma. We were referred to the Fowler Mitsubishi Dealership. They kept our car for three days, supposedly serviced it and charged us $500.
After a few hundred miles out of Oklahoma, the light came back on. We were agitated. We didn’t want to turn back to Oklahoma. We stopped at some small repair shops for reassurance to continue driving. We decided to find other Mitsubishi dealerships en route in hopes they would honor repairs at no additional charge. We made a detour to Lake Havasu in Arizona. They diagnosed the same error code but suggested an entirely different fix than the Oklahoma dealer. After hearing our story, the service manager was kind enough to waive the diagnostic fee. He said this was his way of honoring Bubba for his 25 years of service to our country.
We were offered the options of waiting a few days for a part to be delivered to Arizona or to drive 3 hours towards Las Vegas, Nevada to a dealership that has the part available. We were also warned that the car should not exceed 75 mph as it could cause a ‘detonation’ in the cylinders. This scared me immensely. How could the mechanics at Fowler fail to diagnose such a major problem? I called the Fowler dealership all morning, demanding the General Manager. The General Service Manager listened to me vent but did not offer any resolution. He offered to call me back but never did. I called back asking for the General Manager and was shunned by the secretary. She would not connect me to her chain-of-command. I told her that the Service Department’s error needs to be reported and heard. I told her that their dealership needs to take fiscal responsibility and cover the latest mechanic repair. I suggested they pay the Nevada mechanics the $500 we paid them to rectify the matter but to no avail.
Sitting here idly waiting, I researched different ways to report Fowler Mitsubishi’s incompetence and lack of professionalism. I need to make this nightmare story heard.
I found three immediate sources to file consumer complaints (within the alleged state). They are with: the Better Business Bureau, the Motor Vehicle Commission and the State Attorney General’s Consumer Protection Unit. I also wrote a dealership review on Edmunds.com and will put one on Ripoff Report.
Bubba said we will look into taking legal action. We have time. The statute of limitations is six years in small claims court.
After this experience, it’s a shame I’m only suddenly reminded of American Express’ Purchase Protection plan. If only we had paid the dealers with our American Express card. We have enough documents revealing Fowler’s blunders and to request a chargeback. Merchants like Fowler deserve to have payments withheld.
American Express is the best card to carry. I’ve been a member since 2000. While studying in France, I was pick-pocketed. I lost everything in my wallet. Amex delivered a card to me the NEXT day via DHL. I still remember the little DHL truck driving onto my narrow, cobblestone-street to bring me my Amex package. It took my own bank more than two weeks to send me a replacement card and when I received it, my name was spelled wrong!
When I came back to the US, I wanted Amex to hear my testimonial of their excellence. I asked the phone rep for the name of the person who runs Amex, not a manager, not a director, but the one who oversees the entire corporation. I was given the name: Kenneth Chennault in New York. I wrote him this gracious letter describing my astounding experience. Within a week, a huge bouquet of flowers showed up at my house. It was from American Express, sent by Mr. Chennault’s Executive Assistant. They thanked me for my letter and for my loyalty. To this day, I use my Amex card for everything, even other bills. I just have to get Bubba use to paying for all purchases with it. I pay a lump sum at the end of the month with a check and everything is itemized on my statement. I don’t even have to balance my checkbook!

The Aerodynamics of Tailwind

The winds have been fierce on our drive through Texas into New Mexico. The weather is extremely cool and crisp now. The sun is still out and the skies are blue, but the wind feels icy. We made it in to Arizona and didn’t realize we are already in the Pacific Time Zone. We’ve been driving through all the time zones this summer. We’ve gained time and lost time.
While we were driving against high winds, Bubba gave me a lesson on aerodynamics. It is not very fuel-efficient to drive against the wind. Bubba showed me that by following close behind a trucker, approximately a distance of no more than 30-feet, our vehicle would be drawn into the trucker’s draft, or tailwind. This allows our vehicle to sail smoothly and economize on fuel however this would not be fuel-efficient for the trucker. Bubba said that some truckers do this to help each other. He alluded to the V formation of how geese migrate to illustrate this science. The lead goose plows through the wind to ease the resistance for its followers and they each take turn taking the lead.
We didn’t follow a trucker for too long. A distance of 30-feet is not entirely safe and Bubba felt it would be rude to drain a trucker’s fuel economy by partaking in their tailwind. It is lovely to watch the landscape change from flat, open pastures to towering, jagged brown mountains. In observing this scenery, Bubba talked with an admiration of the west. He described how the various native tribes and American pioneers coexisted peacefully and how conflicts later ensued amongst them. He also explained how these parts of the US were gained through the Mexican-American war of 1846. We were able to overtake the lands that are today parts of California, New Mexico and Texas from Mexico. On our overnight stay in New Mexico, I got to see firsthand what a melting-pot state it is. Notable magazine and newspaper articles also rank the town of Las Cruces as the number one place to live and retire.
Another US factoid I relearned is that the Continental Divide flows through this state. The Divide parts the water drainage of our country into either the Pacific or Atlantic Oceans.
Knock on wood, our travels throughout the summer has been smooth. On this last leg, our vehicle is finally exhibiting some problems. The check engine light is illuminated. We spent $500 to have the problem fixed in Oklahoma but now we doubt they did anything. We plan to make a detour to find a dealership repair shop to have the problem corrected.
On the health front, Bubba is suffering symptoms of the flu these past few days. As a preventative measure, I am filling up on Airborne and Oscillococinum by Boiron and my scratchy throat has subsided.

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened!

We started on our journey westward today. It feels as if the party is coming to an end and I’m sad. Though Bubba and I have our month-long Hawaii trip, the prospect of having to commit to a possible work schedule, next year, even temporarily, is unsettling. I love the open road. I love seeing our country and recognizing the history that occurred on the very soil of each state. I am discovering American facts, daily. For instance, I learned that 17th century Nebraska settlers built their homes out of sod due to the state’s scarcity of trees. They were nicknamed, Sodbusters.

We plan to reach the Golden State in about a week. Bubba said we can camp out in New Mexico tomorrow. The evening weather is dipping to the low 50s across these parts of the US. We felt an air of melancholy all day today. We said good-bye to our gracious Oklahoma friends, who we’ve come to know as family. Seeing the eyes of the children well up as they bade us farewell, moved me. These are only people I’ve come to know this summer and already there is so much love.
On the road, we also received news that Bubba’s first cousin passed away. He was in his early 40s. Bubba said if timing permits, he may fly out to Florida for the service in his dress blues, once we dock back in San Francisco.
I spent the rest of the evening contemplating morality and revisiting the saying that, “Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.” I thought about my age and wondered what it would be like to have only another two decades left in this life. It certainly forces one to treat the present moment with a greater sense of urgency and significance. In immediate retrospect, what a gift this road trip is to me.

Severe Storms, No Twister Sighting

We are still in Oklahoma, enjoying the lazy life in our friends’ castle.
We saw severe thunder storms and heard tornado warnings this week. I have yet to see a floating, swirling wind funnel but I’m excited at the prospect of chasing one with my camera. Bubba and I were able to catch a few bolts of lightning on film. We were waiting patiently out in the back porch, listening to rain pelting the roof gutters, in the pitch dark of night, videotaping. The sky continuously lit up with each lightning strike. (I can’t seem to upload the video onto blogger.)
Our friends have an underground storm shelter in their garage. If a twister were to come, it would be another first for me. I waited for one with earnest and excitement today, but it blew right past overhead this neighborhood at speeds of 60 mph.
The two boys have their autumn break this week. They run around being boys. They play their video games, play football, sneak around shooting bb guns (until Bubba caught them today) and run all around the vast field. I feel like I’m in the midst of a television-show family. The neighborhood kids make their way to this house and come in through the backdoor to hang out and to help themselves in the kitchen. The girl that lives next door reminds me of the character Urkel. She wears coke bottle glasses and talks with a lisp. The kids treat her politely and incorporate her into their games but I have this desire to pull her aside and teach her to speak clearly because I’m sure it will cause her to be an outcast in school. Even Kat helped out by braiding her hair last week and powdering her face to draw out her beauty.

Bubba did some handyman work here this week. I learned that Lola has technical inclinations. I listened to her and Bubba talk using engineering jargon. I could not follow their conversation but they were both on the same page. Lola said she spent more time watching her dad build things with his own hands than in the kitchen with her mother while growing up. She ended up acquiring a mechanical understanding of how things work. Bubba did some electrical rewiring work for the back porch. This morning, even the neighbor girl came over with a lap top asking Bubba to help fix it. She said her dad couldn’t figure it out. And Bubba fixed it! I am compelled to ask myself how my patience wears thin with Bubba at times. How can I ever forget I have myself a universal man?

As Smart As A 5th Grader….

Oklahoma has been a wonderful Midwest host and it will also be our gateway west. We plan to take Interstate 40 back towards California this coming week. We will make our way through northern Texas into New Mexico, then Arizona and finally California. It will probably take about one week. I asked Bubba for a stop through Holbrook, Arizona to buy beautiful crystals and stones I remembered seeing at great prices.
We scrapped our plans to take the northern route to see Yellowstone National Park and more states as we want to rest before our Hawaii trip. We will have to take the northern route on our next journey.
We sent Kat back home by plane to Tennessee today. Our Oklahoma family has shown us a great time. We picked pumpkins in a patch and I got to go through a corn maze, for the first time. Lola took Kat and I horseback riding, also a first for me. I wasn’t a great rider, because I panicked periodically at the thought of the horse going wild. The 2-hour ride took place along a scenic lake path. I spent the majority of the time focusing on posture and positioning. Our three horses somehow wanted to graze along the way. My horse, ET, even tried to nip my shoe when I pulled tight on his reins to get him to stop.
The more I pulled, the more he trotted further off the path to graze. I was not prepared to jump off him with a recovering broken foot. So, Lola, a very good rider, led my horse back by taking the reins. (Kat’s a great rider, too.) I spent the rest of the time concentrating on ab work. I would do it again, but I’d rather ride a well-fed horse next time. I also learn that horses can sense fear and much like dogs, jockey to be the leader and submit to human control.
After riding, I thought about things I would really like to master in this lifetime and surfing came to mind. Because I do not like water nor can I swim, it seems an unlikely goal. I question if it would be something I’d ever even attempt. Then I remind myself that our limitations are merely the mental restraints we place on ourselves.
I often revisit my past accomplishments as a way to motivate myself. I would have never imagined that I would harness a foreign language by living abroad for a year, nor did I think I would be jumping out of planes in the military and earning my paratrooper wings.
This drive across America is helping me to continue appreciating history and geography. I visited the book shelves of the 10-year old son here and read some his school books. I relearned that the Louisiana Purchase of 1803 consisted of territories stretching as far south as Mississippi to portions of Northeast Canada. This is how the US doubled its size from its original 13 colonies. After the purchase, President Jefferson appointed an exploration expedition that was led by Lewis and Clark, military and outdoorsmen. Though they expected to take one year, it ended up taking two. But they did find the Pacific Ocean as they had hoped. Now, I do feel as smart as a 5th grader.

Football, Big Country, Kids...

I have developed a better understanding of football, our big country and children since beginning our road trip this summer.
Having sat through Kat’s high school’s football games, tapping Bubba continuously for insight, I have since gained a good understanding of the sport. We headed westbound this week with Kat in tow. We made a small detour over to Memphis to visit Elvis’ Graceland estate. There is an actual Heartbreak Hotel across the street from his mansion.
We drove through Arkansas, a flat, plain state to reach Oklahoma. Highway signs remind me that these two states are home to the Cherokee, Seminole and Chicasaw Nations.
The weather has finally cooled down. Last week, the temps rose to the high 90’s but now it feels like autumn, with evenings requiring a jacket. We are back at our lovely friends’ castle-like home in Oklahoma. We stopped here in July when we were driving east. I am waking up again to mornin-mouthwatering goods. There is the strong brewed coffee and the pile of bacon awaiting consumption. We are offered eggs, pancakes, crepes anything to our hearts’ content by the wife, Lola. The design of the kitchen is inviting and ingenious. There is a faucet above the stove burners to facilitate with the ease of cooking.
Our friends have two young sons, ages 8 and 10. I am beginning to understand how parents use the term, ‘ham,’ to describe their children. They can be so adorable and they can also say the darndest things.
I enjoy observing both of these young boys. The 10-year old is very smart for his age. He is like a walking fact book and he is also an athlete. He excels in football. He is much bigger than average for his age. The younger brother also plays football but he has a greater interest in military science. Weapons recognition comes natural to him! It’s wonderful to witness raw talent blossoming within a child. With the right amount of nurturing and guidance they will undoubtedly develop their innate abilities. The boys’ parents are doing a wonderful job. The children are well-provided for and they participate fully in their school’s seasonal sports. We went to an after-dinner meet to watch the younger son practice. Seeing these small-framed boys coached with such rigor reinforced to me our country’s love of sports.
Bubba is great with kids and he adores the two boys. He suggested we surprise the kids at school during their lunch break as he use to do with both his daughters when they were little. We spent two days surprising each child at their school during their lunch break. We were a hit with the younger son’s classmates. We followed them to their 25-minute recess and Kat and I motivated them to exercise.They followed our lead on the monkey bars and continued climbing and swinging. We were happy to watch them so active.
A classmate came over and asked the young son how Bubba was related to him. He exclaimed in surprise, “You don’t know him?!” In his 8-year old reality, Bubba must be as famous as any celebrity. Bubba and his father were in the Army more than two decades ago. His father has never forgotten Bubba’s leadership qualities. He has praised Bubba in front of his boys for so long they are under the impression that Bubba is as famous as the president of the USA.
”That’s my daddy's Sergeant,” he said to his classmate, rolling his eyes. What a ham he is.

Tried and Trusted

Since we’ve been driving across the country for the last four months, we’ve learned a lot about lodging and long-distance driving while on the road.
I’ve learned that whenever we drive into a new state, all of the exits are numbered according to the mileage distance of the state (on that particular interstate). The numbers descend as we approach the next state.
So whenever I see exit # 1, I get ready with camera in hand because I know the next state’s ‘Welcome’ sign will appear within one mile. (However, some states' exit numbers are sequential according to Wikipedia.)
It is worth stopping at each state’s welcome center, even if it may seem like a detour. Each of them will have complimentary literature, maps and brochures boasting of its landmarks and assets. Most valuable are the traveler’s coupon books that offer discounts on motels and hotels throughout the state. We have found lodging coupons for as low as $35 per night.
During our trip, we compiled a personal list of trusty hotels that put us at ease.
Holiday Inn Express tops our list as the cleanest and most comfortable. We usually expect to shell out approximately $70 for the night.
Our next favorite is the Best Western. This is the hotel we found ourselves staying at the most. Their rooms are quite clean and they have a hearty continental breakfast. We usually pay $60 per night. For even lower priced hotels, ranging from $30 to $50, we have found America’s Best Value Inn, Super 8 and Days Inn rather acceptable. Most do not have coffee pots or hair dryers but they have cable and a decent breakfast.
I have found an invaluable website that allows online hotel booking without a deposit or a fee. We also always remember to inquire on AAA and or military discounts prior to booking.
To ensure cleanliness during our travels, we are armed with a supply of antibacterial products. We carry our own bottle of pump hand-soap, our favorite is Bath and Body Work’s aromatherapy line. We also have the pump hand-sanitizers in the car.
We have a can of Lysol wipes to clean surfaces. I use them especially for the hotels’ TV remote control, the nightstands, door knobs and the toilet seat.
I’ve also discovered that some hotel showers do not drain very well. Under such a circumstance, I’ve considered carrying a small bottle of bleach to sanitize the tub before stepping into it.
Finally, there is always a bag full of thick napkins under my car seat for accidental spills and meals on the run.

Chipmunk in a Jar

My country experience is getting more and more priceless. Bubba’s brother presented me with a surprise yesterday morning. In the very jar that I carried around the day before, requesting him to catch and fill with a skink for me, contained a mouse-sized chipmunk. Bubba’s brother said he had rescued it from the preying claws of his cat.
I studied the frightened chipmunk in the big plastic Miracle Whip mayonnaise jar and wondered how a request for a reptile turned into a rodent! It was an adorable, furry brown rodent with beady eyes and black stripes running down its back and tail.
I carried the jar around, amazed at the ability to tote this wild animal so close to me. I could detect the nervousness of the animal. I promised to return it to the wild as quick as possible, but after a few pics. Bubba and his brother suggested I put on gloves and pet the chipmunk but by the time they poured him out of the jar and into a net bag, the fearful chipmunk made his great escape. What a sight it was! The net bag bounced so high, it was airborne as the chipmunk fled. Finally, it somehow made its way out of the net bag and scurried away. In our brief encounter, I named him Alvin.

Wildlife Lessons

We will be leaving here tomorrow. I’ll miss the natural scenery that surrounds me here. City life won't be quite as educational.
Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me an e-mail commenting on my discovery of Snowball’s deafness, the white cat that has been visiting me. He said studies show cats, especially with white coats and blue eyes, are likely to have a genetic defect that leads to deafness. I looked into it further and found studies citing 17-20% of white coat cats suffering deafness. Snowball with amber eyes is unfortunately a statistic.
I have spent quite some time contemplating cat-napping Snowball and taking him with me to San Francisco. He is light and so soft. I’ve even trained him to jump on my lap now. At first, I reasoned that I would be doing Snowball a favor. He is obviously attached to me and his deafness warrants extra TLC. Bubba’s brother said that Snowball’s other senses are heightened due to his deafness and he is likely a great mouser (mouse catcher). I looked around at all this open space and then realized that I would be removing Snowball from his element, from his familiar surroundings. The wild is his backyard and at his disposal for continuous exploration. Bubba cheered me up by telling me Snowball will always remember me whenever I come back. His step-dad added cats have nine lives, so I’ll find him here when we come back.
While playing with the dogs and cats on the back deck, I encountered my second sighting of a lizard with a brilliant blue tail. Bubba and his brother told me I’ve seen a skink. (I love how they are my encyclopedia to wildlife.) The tail is a metallic blue and I am fascinated. I was able to examine one while it was sunning. My advances caused it to take off at warped speed burrowing itself under rock crevices.
I asked Bubba’s brother to catch one for me. I decided I wanted a skink as a pet. He put on some rubber gloves and started looking all over for one. He said it may be impossible as they are such fast crawlers. I insisted that he keep looking and had a jar in hand ready. My lesson on the wild is ever increasing. Bubba’s brother informs me that if he does catch the skink, the tail will fall off as this is a self-preservation method. If the lizard is being hunted, it will sever from its tail to escape, while the deceived predator stays to feed on the wriggling entity. “But the tail regenerates, right?,” I countered, insisting that he continue to find my new pet. It is just the tip that falls off and not the entire tail, I learned, and it does regenerate.
Since skinks are not sold in pet stores, the only advice he had was for us to bait a trap with worms. Alas, I decided that having a skink wasn’t all that necessary. Bubba still has his slender California King Snake, Sneek-e traveling with us. It's a 2 footer now! We don't need a car full of reptiles.... Pic of Sneek-e
Instead of a skink, Bubba’s brother returned with some wild ginseng root and leaves he dug out of the earth. He is very gifted in his ability to recognize all plants in the wild. He brings them home to make his own tinctures and elixirs. He boiled the ginseng leaves and made us a drink. It was so bitter but he said it is one of the greatest elixirs for the body so I drank a whole glass. He must be doing something right, as the older brother of Bubba, he looks so much younger!

Still In the East

We haven’t left the East, yet. Bubba’s younger daughter, Kat has a week-long autumn break from school coming up. We will take her on our drive westward and fly her back to Tennessee from wherever we stop.
Bubba says kids grow up too fast and therefore we must relish our time with them while we can. I still think of Kat as the way I met her at 9-years old, a charming girl who held onto my hand when we went out. I still reach for her 14-year old hand now. I guess that’s what parents the world over feel: that their kids will always be kids, no matter how old they get.
We’re back at Bubba's step-dad's ranch to spend the week, while we wait. Bubba said we can make a day trip to some popular attractions around the Smoky Moutains: Pigeon Forge, Gatlinburg and or Dollywood (yes, named after the superstar).
The weather is extremely cool now. We are starting to use the extra blanket at night and Bubba even turns on the heat in the mornings. I thought this day would never come, after such a sizzling summer.
I spend my afternoons waiting for my feline friend, Snowball to come around. And he does. We found out he’s deaf because he does not respond to noises or voices. I guess all this time the cat has been reading my body language.

We had a few friendly Mennonite visitors yesterday who may want to buy this ranch. I studied the woman, Rosetta who wore a very simple purple dress with a hair bonnet. I noticed behind the head bonnet, she had a big bun of braided hair. She wore no make-up and spoke very properly. Our television was on and I wondered if we should have turned it off out of courtesy. Bubba’s brother’s girlfriend calls some of the younger ones ‘closet folks.’ One of the young Mennonites bought a Nintendo game from Bubba’s brother’s yard sale. This means ownership of a television set! I imagine that they must have some kind of concealed family room inside their house!

I have been reflecting on our trip so far and recall a series of scenarios I never got around to blogging about such as the elderly, retired couple we encountered at the entrance of the Petrified Forest in Arizona. Their home is their RV. The husband even forgot where their original state of residence was, “Wyoming or Montana?,” the husband asked his wife.
-Thrilled to have stumbled upon a tapioca drink place in Vietnam-town (a plaza of shops and a few restaurants) in Oklahoma, I remarked impolitely to the shop owner that where I come from the drink is much better.
-On our drive through Illinois toward Indiana, we passed through a town named Effingham and laughed non-stop. Kat replaced lyrics to the song, Paint Me A Birmingham with Effingham.
I theorized that if we stopped at their town hall, they may throw us a curveball and say instead, “Welcome to ‘E'-ffingham.”
-Introduced to the game of corn-hole by Bubba’s sister, Dina, my competitive edge kicked in. I remember Dina’s unrestrained laughter at my look of ‘deep concentration’ and the ‘hop’ I'd make just before tossing the bean bag, aiming for the corn-hole. After my injury, I still played with one foot.
-In Nashville, we were talked into visiting a timeshare workshop. We shocked the sales team by telling them we needed extensive lodgings because we were on a permanent vacation. Now I’m researching the possibility of owning a timeshare that will allow us to stay in different resort homes 365 days a year…all over the world. (Timeshares are designed for the regular vacationer who gets 2-weeks off a year.)
-When Bubba took me to the Tuscarora Indian Nation in upstate New York to shop at their trading post, I acted like a kid in a candy store impressed by the turquoise jewelry and dream catchers…imagining the natives at work with their hands. I was rudely awakened by the dangling tags stating: “Made in China.” I sadly discovered that these things were not pure but mass produced. No matter how self-sufficient...in order to get ahead...it seems everyone eventually succumbs to market economics.

Handyman, Survivorman, Jack of All Trades: Bubba

Our road trip is winding down to one more weekend on this side of the country. We want the advantage of having Kat once more before we head west.
We are in Indiana now at Dina’s (Bubba’s sister) enchanting home. (I had devoted a blog entry to her.) She’s quite a marvel. She lives in an upscale neighborhood outside Indianapolis and has transformed her home into a work of art. There is such a sense of warmth, comfort and balance here. Here is a pic of the family room opening up to the yard. How can one not fall in love?
Bubba decided to take on an ambitious repair job at her house. The last time we were here, she found a mini-flood in the basement. She thought it was faulty plumbing. Bubba also happens to have homebuilding expertise so it wasn’t long until he identified the problem. The basement is built below ground with a few windows. Rain water seeped into one of the window-framed walls and leaked out to the floors. The repair would entail arduous work; digging up the lawn around the house, tearing the wall down, replacing the dry walls and adding rubber sheeting to waterproof the basement. (I wondered out loud if Indy had any day laborers for hire?!) And with only four days before we leave to get Kat, Bubba came up with a designer solution as usual. He said he would build an external “bubble” for the problem wall. The bubble would serve to abate water seepage as winter and its inclement weather approaches. We went to Lowe’s for the supplies. The high cost design would be a wood-framed bubble. The lower cost design would be PVC pipes connected with elbow and T-connectors with heavy-duty plastic sheeting intricately zip tied to the frame. We picked the lower cost option and a box of construction grade plastic sheeting. Bubba got right to work in Dina’s garage. Within a short time, he came into the house to announce he had finished the bubble!
The next morning, what timing, a rain storm came through. I went outside to check on this plastic bubble and it was right where Bubba built it, sturdy and unmoved. Then I went downstairs and found absolutely no sign of any leaks. After four years Bubba’s ingenuity and attention to detail continues to enthrall me. I am learning a lot about companionship and how love isn’t always peachy keen. Some days, I feel like we are contestants on the Amazing Race, our patience with each other severely tested. I admit I do let my temper get the better of me and I show it. Since Bubba has known nothing but life in the military, his manner of speech can sometimes seem curt and abrasive. I try to remember that he has spent his life engaged in combat campaigns. Bubba does teach me the art of compromise and forgiveness though, because he always reaches out first after a disagreement. As I come of age more, I try to embrace the logic that everything happens for a reason. I also try to envision life as one big experiment. This personal philosophy helps me to believe that crossing paths with Bubba was somehow inevitable and our summer journey has been quite an adventurous experiment. And, I do look forward to more....

'Falls' Between Two Countries

I got my wish. Bubba took me to see Niagara Falls.
Mapquest indicated that the drive to this natural wonder would take about 8 hours from Ohio so we left Bubba’s mom’s house to take the northernmost route. We cut through Cleveland, Ohio into Pennsylvania and then onwards to New York, driving along the skirts of Lake Erie on I-90.
Niagara Falls, I learned, is a natural outlet from Lake Erie to Lake Ontario and consists of three waterfalls: Horseshoe, American and Bridal Veil, situated on both US and Canadian territories. It was tedious for us to decide whether we wanted to stay stateside or cross into Canada. I wanted to stay at the Embassy Suites in Canada whose rooms boast stunning views of the falls. But then we had to think about the border crossing and inspection. Our vehicle is packed to the brim with our travel/camp gear not to mention Bubba’s firearms. Even though Bubba has carrying permits and a military ID, we didn’t know if we could enter a foreign country with them. I stayed up all night googling until I found the answer here. We also learned that passports will be necessary in January of 2008 but for now picture ids are still acceptable.
Bubba and I finally decided to book a room stateside, unload our gear and then cross into Canada in our vehicle. We picked the Ramada Niagara Falls aka The Grand Niagara. The front desk aid, Sharon, was so helpful that I felt comfortable choosing this place. The hotel room was not fancy but Sharon was frank about its impending renovations and offered us an unbeatable rate of $52 a night, tax included.
We had a king sized bed and a tiny bathroom but our shower flowed powerfully. The grandeur of this hotel is betrayed by its age (built 1924) and rivaled by sophisticated and modern hotels like the neighboring Sheraton. I could just envision the glamour of this hotel in its heyday. Its lobby espouses a Victorian flair: ceilings trimmed with crown moldings and hovering, gold-plated chandeliers.
We entered Canada by crossing the Rainbow Bridge. I love how all the signs are in English and French! Our border agent was a friendly, pretty blonde who asked us a series of the same questions in different order like where were we born, how long we planned to stay and the reason for our entry.
The view of Niagara Falls from the Canadian side is said to be more spectacular. They have the massive Horseshoe Falls. The falls on the USA side are smaller and called the American Falls and Bridal Veil. As soon as we parked and walked toward the boulevard path to see the Horseshoe Falls, we could feel mist falling on us. Bubba and I were draped in matching Army parkas. The sight and sounds were awe-inspiring. We observed this majestic force for over an hour and then migrated toward the vibrant neighborhood of Clifton Hill to have dinner and to souvenir shop with Canadian dollars in hand. Bubba suggested I order a meal in French and I did so without flinching. The Canadian server responded with utmost courtesy in English, but was fully receptive to everything I said in French.
On the Canada side, there are a few, pricey options to view the falls from above. There is the Skylon Tower, the Keg Steakhouse or the Niagara Skywheel.
Many say that the Canadian side is better and I have to agree that it is more vibrant with many attractions and a district designed for a bustling nightlife.
Behind our hotel, the city of Buffalo is dreary, depressed and downtrodden. But the US side shouldn’t be missed. Lake Erie and the US falls are hugged by a winding State Park. A trolley runs through the park and drops tourists along different points. Some viewing points are on the very fringe of the falls, but Bubba said that the area’s earth is constantly eroding and did not think it would be a safe venture. I actually liked seeing the falls from the US side even more. For one, the drop of both American and Bridal Veil Falls are less steep than the Horseshoe so we are not rained on. The Horseshoe Falls is so massive it conceals much of itself under this perpetual white, hazy mist.
There is a 180-foot high observation deck on the US side that extends out over the gorge (free to all after the last Maid of the Mist boat ride, 5pm) with a view of all the falls and the Ontario tourist district.
We were happy to discover that we arrived on the right day for the fireworks show, reserved to Friday and Sunday nights in the summer. We brought our mini-chairs, found a spot amongst a crowd of international tourists and watched a man-made celebration of nature’s beauty. Our overall tab for the two days was around $200! We were able to visit another country, eat four square meals, buy souvenirs, lodge in a hotel and best of all, to see such a sight in one’s lifetime, priceless!