Postcards

If you want a postcard from Down Under or anywhere else fun, exciting and beautiful, please email me your address or post it on the blog as a comment. And I promise I will send you one.

Traveling at Last

We finally arrived in Auckland this morning, after a 14 hour flight with 7 hours of turbulence and 2 last minute $6,000 return tickets to LAX in February (They wouldn't let us on the plane without a visa or a return ticket). Yay! But, nothing an Ambien and a few Fijian beers can't fix. Tonight we're staying at this bizarre campground with numerous brightly and crudely painted vans and a security man ballroom dancing outside his office to Waylon Jennings.

Our Kiwi friend Dayne suggested we buy a car and then we can be footloose and fancy free to go climb, backpack, kayak, etc. wherever and whenever we want. Apparently people come here, buy a car, drive it around for a few months and then sell it. There are car auctions everyday. And then up to Tongariro National Park, where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed for a week of backpacking. More updates and hopefully pictures later.....

Old family picture, Great Grandpa Paul and Grandma Yvonne even!

More Pictures of Grandpa

Sad days

A year of difficulties for Grandpa took a turn for the worse and he died last week, peacefully in his sleep in front of the ocean at his house in Kona. The night before he died, he was tossing and turning, rife with uncomfortableness. He was almost unable to speak at that point, Grandma was nearly sick with worry and sadness, and no one wanted to leave his bedside because we kept trying to prop up pillows or help him move around or something! I sat next to Grandpa and held his soft hand. I squeezed three times: "I love you." Grandpa paused a second and then I felt four squeezes back: "I love you more." Grandpa's oft-repeated response whenever a grandkid told him we loved him. He pulled his hand away soon after and resumed his spasmodic sleeplessness before his body eased into the liquid morphine-induced oblivion that we would provide for him via under-the-tongue, later. I'd already called his hospice nurse twice that night; she had recommended that we administer the soporific papaverine tucked away in the downstairs bathroom cabinet. 1/4 drop'll do ya.

We all gave our kisses and hugs to Grandpa and finally, since he was at last sleeping, and peacefully at that, we went to bed and worried that we might never see him again. The last few days were bad for Grandpa, today especially so; he had only gotten up from bed to go to the bathroom a few times and to sit in his special chair to watch the waves in the morning. He hadn't even drank his daily glass of red wine at sunset. It was a particularly bad day for Big Al, and we all knew time was running out, and fast. He'd told my cousin Jesse earlier that evening that he was "fading out." And indeed he was.

The next morning at about 5 in the morning, my Auntie came into our room and told Peter and I that Grandpa died this morning. I sat up, threw on yesterday's clothes and ran to the other house, where Grandpa was lying on his bed, a slight smile on his face, and more peaceful than he had in days. I kept expecting him to jump up, dance around on the bed a bit and shout, "Just kidding!" Of course that never happened, but I could keep hoping. The hospice nurse came, pronounced Grandpa dead at 5:43 a.m., gave us all big hugs, and gingerly asked us when we wanted the mortuary to come and take Grandpa off to the cremation chambers. Grandma wailed, "his beautiful body; they can't take it away." More crying, more crying, and more crying.

We toasted to Grandpa with our life-sized Bloody Mary's and talked about our sweet and gentle Grandpa, father and husband. I tried to imagine what it would be like to lose my best friend, lover and lifeline of more than 65 years. Completely inconceivable. Completely.

Grandma & Grandpa's Birthday Party

The blog is back! Finally I can get back on the track of excitement and travel. And so much excitement to be had.....The first leg of my trip was to Kona so I could be here for my grandma and grandpa's 87th and 90th birthdays, respectively. Unfortunately 90 is proving already to be a year of difficulties for Grandpa, and his health has taken a turn for the worse. Being in the very late stages of heart failure is a bitch, and watching one of the most admired, loved and respected people in my life suffer from it is pretty unpleasant as well....
At the moment he's being probed by the hospice nurse who visits him daily and tries to make his last remaining days as comfortable as possible.
Most certainly hasn't been the relaxing Hawaiian vacation I was hoping to have before I made the transition into full-time traveller and enviro volunteer, but I feel extremely fortunate that I and the rest of my family can be here together while Grandpa makes the transition.....

a yucca tree in big sur

change of plans

A random old door.





















a little animal i made of clay. its sitting on top of a photo of a mask my friend Ana, see below made. She was working on more while I made little oxxo.






goats.





This is a lady and her burros walking down the street where I lived. She's asking for money for the photo. I happily obliged.
Our bus driver stopped here to get out and get a snack. This was a poor, poor place. But, Corona was here to let people know that even if they only have 5 pesos left, buy a Corona.



















(1) More Teotihuacan.
(2) a corn stalk tree
(3) Guanajuato housing
(4) My friend Ana, the artist.






so, i'm back. i'm not sure how many of you knew that, but, yes, it has happened. i'm pretty happy about it. i just kept getting dicked around by the volunteer organization i was trying to work for. I don't think they were doing on purpose, but they were just so disorganized. But, I came home to see my grandparents and my uncle who was visiting from Hawaii and surrprise the hell outof Peter, which provided me with great amusement. But, I can finally post some of the pictures I wanted to awhile ago and actually get them to work.




The market in Guanajuato.

Me and Che

Look who it is! I've been having a hell of a time with posting things. the computers here all seem to be going a bit crazy. Ah, it's Mexico.

Moronic devices

So, i just looked at the blog for the first time since i attempted to put up pictures and the enormous post. i have no idea why some pictures decided to come up 10 times on the screen. no idea. one day i'll figure it out.
I started Spanish school today. I'm only taking it for a week, but for 7 hours a day. I'm on lunch break right now, and soon I will be going to las gorditas, the best little restaurant ever. I eat lunch there at least 3 times a week. soooo good.
My spanish is improving by leaps and bounds. In fact last night after i hung out with my friend Ana drinking big beers and we spent the whole night speaking in Spanish i came home adnwas speaking Spanish in my head and went to sleep really soon after i got home. And I had a dream about a sqaure submarine and floating lawn chairs all in Spanish! this was thrilling, and i almost didn't make it to class at 8:30 in the morning because of my wonderment. I have a meeting this afternoon to see about my volunteering with kids in a little little town outside of San Miguel. We will see what happens....

The pictures i failed to include in the

and still not the savviest in the blogging vocation.





The little dog that could and
shanti
These are the pictures I meant to include to accompany the enormous monologue above. So. so sorry.


The bus-station-lovers. 1 am.

the great city they call me'xico

So, the rumours that you have heard about what a crime-ridden, scary, violently dangerous city Mexico city is, which most Mexicans simply call Mexico or D.F., districto federal, are not true. Yes, it's a big city and like any big city it has its fair share of problems, but it is NOT AS BAD AS PEOPLE SAY IT IS. So, with that said, i think you all should visit it, take in a few of the hundreds of museums they must have, do a little shopping in La Merced market, go to the blue house that Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera lived in and see some of their artwork, including the body casts that Frida was in after her accident on the tram, and the weird little things they collected; the Anthropology museum, which is indescribaly huge and and there are just no words to describe it because it is just too too amazing, see the Diego Rivera murals in El Palacio Nacional, which were so powerful and moving I cried on the steps in front of them. Or while waiting in traffic(this is a bad problem in the city, as well as pollution, yuck! That, coupled with the elevation pressure make your eyes red) why not take in a man standing on a four-foot tall ladder juggling torches while his amigo washes your windows. While waiting in traffic you can switch on the radio and hear any number of stations playing all those 80's songs you don't want to admit you know all the words to. They really seem to love the music from the 80's there, I couldn't figure it out.
At one point on my first day after Shanti and I had gotten back from Teotihuacan I was wandering around, looking for the Frida Kahlo museum and just seeing what I could see, when I soon found myself utterly lost. I thought I knew what I was doing, assuring myself that I didn't need to go back the way I came, I could go down an alternate route and still get back, nodding to myself self-assuredly. oops. Soon, I was just thinking, oh, SHIT, where the hell am I? I asked all sorts of people how to get back to the street I thought I started on. I think their directions made me more lost than before. And then the rains came. Almost every afternoon in the city as well as San Miguel it pours rain for about 30 minutes or so to clear the air and then it usually stops. I was, unfortunately caught in one such rainstorm, while utterly and desperately lost. Finally I stopped a woman coming out of her house and asked her how to get to La calle de Universidad. She didn't know. El parque cerca de Universidad? You want to go to the park? Why? Where are you trying to get? She asked me. And I told her my hostel on Quemada street. Ok, I will drive you there. And she did, all the way telling me about the best places to visit in Mexico and what I absoutely must do while I am here, and soon I was in front of my hostel, dropped off with a big smile, a kiss on the cheek and her phone number in case I had a problem. How's that for some nice people in this city that I have heard referred to as 'the land of the locusts.'
I luckily met an awesomely fun transvestite named Sofia in the shoestore. Before I knew it she had gotten me to try on these 5 inch tall pink high-heeled boots. I couldn't walk in them and she thought that was the funniest thing in the world. She tried to give me lessons, as she was a pro, but it led to nothing but more laughter. We laughed some more after we left the show store over the strange occurrence of 4 Leon shoe stores all in a row and all with the same shoes. I guess this is common in Mexico, dating back to Aztec times when if you wanted beads or something, all the people who were selling beads were lined up. Here, you will find blocks only full of gold jewelry, bridal gowns, printing presses, fancy bibles, posters, and more. It's kinda nice, but a little odd as well. After that she took me to this little hole in the wall restaurant for lunch, which was fabulous. Ah, the joys of Mexican food, everything is spicy and delicious. After that we went to La Merced market which was just so damn big I was entirely overwhelmed and we went to the Zocalo, which is the center of town and sat down and ate some ice cream in the middle of the square. A girl came up to us and wanted to interview us for the newspaper about how we felt sitting here in the Zocalo, a very powerful place, the sight of an Aztec temple long ago and now a place for massive demonstrations, or protests.
In all i LOVED this city. I loved the people, I loved the fact that you were a mere 20 minutes from the once largest civilization in MesoAmerica, and their temples, see the pictures, were just unbelievable. We took the second bus of the day (there are 48) out there and shared the entire place with 2 guys from Toronto and a few hawkers. i bought a mask from one of them for a great price and it has become my prize possession. It belongs in a museum. Really. Sorry about all my run-on sentences, but it's just the way it goes. I can't type as fast as I think.
This city is very odd no doubt. It seems that something strange lurks just beneath the surface of everyday life, popping up in the most peculiar of palces. I ran into an Australian guy on the Metro that I knew from Santa Cruz, and I met a woman who lives in Carmel Valley, right across from Garland Park, 2 minutes down the road from me! Quite the coincidence.
Before we went to the City we stopped in Morelia, where Shanti and I unfortuntaley chose a hotel that despite our guide book reccomending what we thought was highly, was in actuality a hotel for some of the cheapest hookers in town. Oh, that's why we were woken up at 3am by the screams of someone in the throes of passion. And just when we thought it was over and we could go back to sleep, it began again, and again, and then onto the shower. Jesus H. Christ. In the morning when Shanti's relatives (see the picture) picked us up we all laughed at our poor choice and they drove us off in a big white chevy SUV to sweet Patsquaro, an idyllic, charming little town. There, Shanti's aunt owns a beautiful old hotel and they got us oh-so-drunk on delicious tequila and hordes of fabulous food on the top floor with a gorgeous view of the lake there, so big it has little islands that people live on. It's here where the country convenes to celebrate Dia de los Muertos in early November. Then they set us loose to wander around. It was still early and we went to the market. I bought a huge mask for Peter the mask collector and then realized too late that I would now be carrying this around thru Patsquaro and into Mexico city. Greeeeaaatt. But, he's worth it. And today is his birthday!! Everyone wish Peter happy birthday!
Anyways, I'm back in San Miguel today. And i can't sit in front of this computer any longer so i must be off.

getting ahold of Jessica

Someone has requested my phone number, my auntie in fact, and I thought that I might as well give it to all of you if you feel so inclined to speak to me. It is, from the US: 011-52-415-154-5570. And when you call you should let it ring twice, hang up and then call back in a minute or so. This is Zuzu´s, our landlord who lives upstairs from us, special code. I think that sometimes she forgets and picks up the phone anyways, but she´s a funny lady and she´ll probably start telling you about her little poodle Shena who is the love of her life, or how she´s SO glad she´s an old lady(she´s 83) and doesn´t have to worry about the troubles of being in her twenties anymore, or maybe even about the exercise show that she watched on TV last night without getting up from her couch. So, that´s the information. Happy trails.