Saying Goodbye to Al Marai Coffee Cups
All my nomadic life, I have had to sift, sort and weigh the value of my belongings – literally. As an Army wife and later a corporate wife, I had a weight allowance as we moved from country to country. My life was full of leaving things behind – friends, churches, social groups, jobs, my identity – as well as belongings.
Unlikely items made the cut. In 2003, when we moved to Doha, Qatar, I discovered a nearby store, the LuLu (which means lovely large pearl), where a gallon of Al Rifai milk came with a free coffee cup sturdily taped to it. I was delighted. I’ve always believed good design does not necessarily correlate with price – and these cups were a perfect size and had these wonderful scenes from Doha life, where there was a dhow harbor in the center of town, dhows in the harbor, and camel races with human riders on Saturdays. Look! The dhow coffee cup even has a wind tower in the background.
So yesterday, Christmas Day, as I opened two beautiful new coffee cups, one from Giverney and one from Barcelona, my husband looked at me sorrowfully, and approached the subject gently.
“It’s time we give up the Doha coffee cups,” he said.
“They have served us well. They are over 20 years old. They were free, probably made in China from materials we don’t even want to think about. I use them all the time, and even as I do, I wonder what might be leaching into my drink.”
I know he is right. There is no marking of any kind to indicate origin. After all these years, marks are appearing where we have stirred for twenty years. And yet – these cups have served me loyally. They are still bright and unmarred. I love their memorialization of a slower time in Doha. And I have options.
At Christmas breakfast, I have the cups out on display and offer them to my son. He is a discerning collector of first editions by selected authors, first edition Legos from the space exploration collections, edged weapons, and selected items that catch his attention. He also knows how to buy and sell on the Internet when he wants to refine his collections.
He expresses interest but does not take them with him. Their departure, however, is Christmas Day chaotic – bags full of presents, the food divided to be used for quick meals in the coming week (even our grandchildren contributed to our Christmas Eve dinner, my grandson a crab dip and my granddaughter a wreath made of crescent roll wrapped little smokies. My son, who was never interested in cooking, astonished us with a baked Brie!) and last-minute check-ins on upcoming family plans.
I am a patient woman. I know those cups deserve to find new appreciation in a new home. I believe my son will get involved but if not, I have other options.
Update: This is what it is like to be me. It is not that I am getting older, it is that I will tell you things I believe to be true, and they are close, but not the same.
My friend Yusuf, below, said he thought it must be Al Marai, and that sounded familiar. AdventureMan said maybe really we should keep the cups, and as he handled them, He found Al Marai logos on the cups. Not just one. Two on each cup.
In our family, we are all very very sure we are right. When we are not right, we are required to humbly state it. I was wrong, so very very wrong; the cups were labeled, Al Marai, not Al Rifai, and YOU, Yusef and AdventureMan, were RIGHT.
And we are keeping the cups!
What Love Looks Like at 76
I’m on my way down to restock the Little Free Library and pass AdventureMan, who always asks me why I love him. It’s hard to keep it fresh. It’s hard to find new answers to that question, but this time, it’s right there in front of me.
“Who likes to clean out the litter box?” I ask. He looks puzzled.
“No-one!” I answer my own question, but I continue “I love you because you clean out the litter box in hot humid weather, even when you don’t want to, and give the cats a nice clean place to poop! I love you because you do it faithfully, and I don’t have to do it! It’s not romantic, but I consider it TRUE LOVE!”
It makes him laugh. I am not the romantic young bride he met in Heidelberg and married six weeks later. I am pragmatic and grounded. I know what matters.
We have always had cats. I used to do the litter boxes, and when I got pregnant, he took it over because pregnant women can get a disease that can infect the baby. Around when our son turned 18 he had a perplexed look on his face and asked me “just how long after the baby is born can you scoop litter again?” and we both laughed.
True love is bigger than diamonds or white roses or wonderful perfume. True love is scooping the cat litter and cleaning out the litter boxes. Thank you, AdventureMan.
Ghosted – A Happy Ending
Our housekeeper, staying in our house as we travel, sent this photo to us the day after we left Pensacola. This old, wobbly, emaciated cat showed up hungry! She fed him and asked me what we wanted to do.
We’ve never seen this cat before. We have a flock of known outdoor cats we help, and this isn’t one of them. This cat appears wretched. We asked that she continue to feed him, and add some beef broth to make sure he gets enough hydration. She checks with a mutual friend, a cat consultant with Everett Animal Welfare group, who gives us advice.
When we return, he is still alive, and looking a little better, we think. We take him to the vet; the vet requires a name and we decide to call him Sunny, for his always loving and uncomplaining personality.
The vet has sad news. He runs all the tests, the cat is negative for feline AIDS, and other diseases, but his thyroid is shot and his kidneys are on their last legs. He is not microchipped. There is nothing the vet can do, and he tells us to make Sunny comfortable and enjoy these last weeks of his life.
Sunny can barely walk, but he doesn’t know he is sick. He bleeds from the mouth, his teeth hurt him so we buy him special food. He never tucks right into his food, he always politely demands we pet him around the head and scratch under his chin. He rolls on the ground and fondles our shoes. Then he eats. And eats. And eats. He also drinks, but because he is so arthritic, we provide a bucket for him so he doesn’t have to bend down. We are happy, because while he is not strong, he does not appear terminal, and he does not appear to have pain, other than he can barely walk.
And then, last night, he disappeared.
From the day he came, he has not moved around too much, other than to be a little private in his eliminations. When we leave, we always check to see where he is and run for the car. Sometimes, if he is under AdventureMan’s car, we take my car. He is always there, and rises to greet us when we return. He greeted us when we returned from lunch yesterday. I saw him sleeping around 3. And then, we never saw him again.
He didn’t show up for his dinner (!!!) and he wasn’t helping AdventureMan with watering the plants. He was gone, as mysteriously as he had appeared. Ghosted.
He broke AdventureMan’s heart, who had quickly bonded with Sunny. He was up and down all night, checking hopefully to see if he had returned. I was sure he would show up this morning, hungry for breakfast, but no Sunny.
I was just putting away the ironing board when AdventureMan came running out this morning saying “You are NOT going to believe this.” He had his phone in his hand, but I thought maybe he had seen Sunny outside. No, he hadn’t. But he had sent a text to our up-the-hill neighbor, asking her to keep an eye out for this emaciated old cat we had been taking care of.
Her response was astonishing. “That’s Marvin!” she texted. He had disappeared when we left for Paris, and they had been looking for him. Then they got really sick with COVID and had to take care of themselves and lost hope of ever seeing Marvin again. And Marvin returned home yesterday!
I remembered Marvin – a big, fat, fluffy cat who ran around their yard in the company of their ancient aunt, who adored him. That this tiny (maybe 3 – 4 pounds) cat could be Marvin was a shocker, but happy news.
This Sunny, who turns out to be Marvin, is safely home. No wonder he is such a happy cat – he is 18 years old and has been loved all his life. His appearance at our house was a mystery – how could such a weak cat get to our house? Could he have been dumped? The mystery is solved, our neighbor is ecstatic, and we are happy to know that Sonny/Marvin will live and end his life in comfort and a loving environment. She’s glad he was taken care of during the weeks of is absence. I call that a happy ending.
A Bientôt Paris!
We have a family joke – I have an alarm on my phone; I find it very gentle, it is called “Twinkle” and sounds like little stars coming out. That’s how it sounds to me. I use it all the time, and my husband will yell “Time to hustle the bags out to the car!” He hates Twinkle, it reminds him of all our very early morning scrambles to get to the airport, turn in our rental car, lug our baggage to check-in, and all that jazz.
We have an early flight, so when we hear Twinkle, we are up and ready. Our bags are packed. We might wait for a baggage person, but it is 4:45 a.m and our car is due at 5:00 so we take our own bags down (I am proud; I have lived this entire trip out of one carry-on suitcase and one personal item/bag.)
We did the right thing. We awakened the baggage person and the desk clerk; I don’t think they would have awakened us or come for our bags. Our car showed up exactly on time (a Mercedes this time, thank you Tauck, but not a Tesla) and we got to the airport in record time.
We got to the airport and went to line up at Air France and a beautiful airport Air France person asked to see our tickets, and said “Oh! You are on our partner, Delta! Not here! I invite you to walk just over there and you can arrange for your flight!”
So French! Not to be directed, not to be told, but to be INVITED to go elsewhere. We loved it.
We checked our bags, full of dirty laundry, who cares if they don’t show up on time? And we headed to the Air France lounge, which evidently IS a part of the partnership, even if we have to check in elsewhere.
The Air France lounge is huge. The buffet is lavish. The drinks are set out and available at oh-dark-hundred in the morning. There are even showers, if I needed another shower.
We boarded on time, but our flight was late leaving because while boarding, one of the passengers tripped and fell and had to be taken to the hospital, which also required his bags be removed, and it all took time. They made up most of the time, we got to Atlanta in time to catch our Pensacola flight and our son was at the airport to transport us home.
You know me. I’m a happy kind of person. I had a great time; this trip was perfect. I wept. I didn’t want it to end, and I didn’t want to leave France.
Christmas Markets on the Elbe: Prague Day 2
An Even Better Day Than We Had Planned
We woke up fresh and decided to walk to Prague Castle from Clock Tower Square. We had a lavish buffet breakfast with friends departing very early the next morning, and then we headed out to find Bus 194, which came within moments.
Our intention was to get off at the Astronomical Clock Square, from where we could cross the bridge and hike up to the castle.
Once again, Bus 194 traveled the back roads but did not stop at the Clock Tower Square, so we just stayed on, and discovered it took us up a steep hill to the German Embassy, where we got off. On the advice of some friendly Czech police, we headed straight up the hill, and then across what I call a meadow and AdventureMan calls a park.
They have the most beautiful manhole covers!
The first photo above is the road we have walked up. The second is the road we will walk up to get to the path that crosses the meadow. You can see the monastery in the upper right of the above photo.
It was cold and snowy, but we were bundled up and happy to be out hiking. I have my clunky walking shoes on, and although the path is treacherous, snowy, icy and slick, my sticky soles have a good grip.
We came to a Monastery with a fabulous overview of Prague, and met up with several groups of happy Germans.
We continue on towards the castle.
We had some good laughs, and headed toward the Prague Castle, happily all downhill. Entrance was free, and the castle, on this cold, snowy December day was packed with tourists from all nations.
There is slush and ice everywhere, and these crews are in all heavily touristed areas, trying to clear paths and streets so they will be less dangerous. Meanwhile, the snow continues. Magical for us, a pain for them.
We hurried through the castle, and headed down the hill back to the city, stopping only at The Best Christmas Shop in Prague (and I believe it!) and the Lobkowitz Palace, where we had hot drinks – hot chocolate with whipped cream, a hot ginger lemonade, fabulous and not too sweet. We split a half-sweet chocolate cake and delighted in the surroundings – lots of families with bundled-up children, and lots of people from other places.
As AdventureMan paid, I went out to use the rest room which had a turnstile and coin machine. I started to put a coin in and a woman stopped me and said “No! I saw you in the restaurant! Your chit will let you in free! Go back and get a chit!” so I went back and got a token, and when I got there, another woman said “No! No! Don’t put in anything! The code is 1-1-1-1, just put in the code.” So I did.
When I had finished, on my way up the stairs, I saw a young couple trying to figure out how the machine worked, and I, in turn, said “No! Just put in 1-1-1-1!” and they did.
As we headed back into the city, I found a shop with garnets and amber, and I had hoped to find some new garnet earrings to replace the pair I bought there in 1990, my first visit. The shopkeeper was lovely, and a great saleswoman, and when I told her I could not take the large garnets I had been looking at, she asked if they were too heavy, and I laughed and said “No! Too expensive,” and like my good jewelers in Doha and Kuwait, she offered to make me a special deal for Christmas.
I chose a smaller pair, and she still gave me a better price, so I was very happy. As we completed the deal, we asked her for the name of a good Czech restaurant, a place she might eat with friends, not fancy but with a good atmosphere, and she sent us just up the street and around the corner to Potrafena Husa, in a less traveled part of town.
We went there, and oh, what fun we had. I ordered the duck confit and ginger lemonade, and AdventureMan had a schnitzel and a beer. We both love the Czech beer.
We wandered through the market, and enjoyed one of the hollow hand-held cinnamon breads traditional at this time of year. They come with different fillings, but I just wanted the plain – it has cinnamon sugar on it and that is enough for me. I could eat them forever; they are so light and tasty; they taste like Christmas!
A great time, loved the experience of the Christmas Market, but it is time to think about our return. Once again, we were over 15,000 steps and getting a little anxious about making sure we were packed and ready for our departure tomorrow. We found the 194 bus, headed home, were held up by a narrow-street accident and six police cars, but finally made it back to the Hilton.
We packed, we organized, and just as I was lying in bed working on the Bad Schandau section of this journal, I got a text from Delta. Our flight has been canceled out of Prague.
No offers of help to rebook. I read the message to AdventureMan as I hurriedly dressed. I was in shock, and at first, AdventureMan thought I was kidding.
No, I wasn’t kidding. We needed help. We needed to get to the Viking desk in the Hilton and get some serious juice working to resolve this, to get us home. Fortunately, we had booked with Viking and used Viking travel. They are so good when things go wrong, and can make it right.
Eve, the Cruise Director who had made everything so smooth on the Beyla, is still with us, and as soon as we see her, we tell her our news and she gets right on a call with Viking Travel. Although the wait seemed excruciating, soon Eva had us booked on another flight getting us into Pensacola the same day, a little later but the same day. She had worked a miracle. Our bags would be picked up later, we had a later departure, and we were on Air France, our favorite airline.
AdventureMan mentioned that our pick-up time for the canceled flight also had another couple, so Eva called them. They had also been resting (it’s the demographic). They checked their messages and they, too, had been canceled. By the time we left, we saw just how capable Eva was, dealing calmly with so many anxious passengers who needed rescheduling.
Another passenger who had used the Hilton ATM to change money found a $16,000 charge on his card that he had not made, his card was blocked, and he and his wife could not use Uber, could not charge anything, food, drinks, anything! And, of course, he was very concerned about how $16,000 could be charged to his card when he did not do it.
One by one, Eva patiently handled these individual disasters, without drama, but with great calmness and competency. We admired her before, on the cruise ship, organizing and re-organizing as things came apart, always calm. Watching her in action with such a variety of needs only increased our admiration.
We had some goals for this trip. We wanted to enjoy the sights, eat winter foods, and find some garnet earrings. Done. AdventureMan wanted a real Afghan kebab for dinner, and we had seen a place near the Hilton where we catch Bus 194, so we headed out, ordered kebab from an Afghani young man who told us he works like a robot, just work, and friends, and send all his money home. We have heard this story so many times; these young men work so hard to support their families far away, not just with food but with money for school tuition, clothes, and their families’ many needs. The kebabs were huge, full of tasty vegetables, and heaped with lamb. We brought them back to the hotel and couldn’t eat half, they were so big.
Now, hoping and believing we really do have a flight tomorrow, we are packed, and hoping to get a good night’s sleep before rising early to get our bags out in the hallway for transportation to the airport. As a last-minute change, we are checking our carry-on bags and taking with us only what we need.
We agree, for so many reasons, this has been one of our best vacations ever. We loved the magic of the snow the entire journey and the walk over Glienicker Bridge. The Beyla is a small ship, and we got to know several people well, and have great conversations over noticeably great meals on board. We found that almost every Viking guide we had, particularly in Berlin, Potsdam, and Dresden, was outstanding. The markets were so much fun. The people were welcoming and engaging. We hate for this vacation to end.
Christmas Markets on the Elbe: Saxon Alps and Bad Schandau
We got underway during breakfast, and sailed past increasingly hilly and interesting landscapes until the port talk at ten, which had to do with options in for a bus and hike at the top of the “Alps” and our dis-embarking in Decin. We went back to our room and shortly afterward, the alarm beeps started. We thought it was a mistake. They went on. And on.
I looked out and the fire door was closed. We got our life jackets and headed out but our room steward told us it was just a small thing, we didn’t need jackets, just a little problem. Then an announcement came asking all passengers to go to the lounge, and in the lounge, I was in a place where I could watch the crew. They were all in life jackets, and trying to keep the fire doors closed, except they had to keep opening them because there was no bathroom in the lounge; passengers could not go to their rooms, only to the one public restroom near the staterooms. Very strange.
Then the Captain announced that we could all go to lunch, but not to our staterooms.
As we sat at lunch, a fire truck pulled up, full of firemen. They put on hazard gear, and then – they came through the restaurant, to get to the engines at the back of the ship, I am guessing. Then came several cars of police, we don’t know why. After an hour or so, the firemen started leaving, the police came and left, and the Beyla continued very slowly upriver to a small town, Konigstein, where we stopped a while, a mechanic got on, more officials came back and forth, and a group got off to go hike up on the “Alps of Germany”. We sat in the lounge observing, and then the Beyla continued, slowly, to Bad Shandau.
It was almost dark when we arrived, we knew the group was expected back at 4:30 and we wanted to see if we could find an ATM in Bad Shandau, so we asked if we had time to walk into town before the boat departed again. The desk person told us yes, that the Beyla would not be departing tonight for Decin, but would remain in Bad Shandau until the problem could be remedied. (We still don’t know exactly what problem.)
We walked into the town, which reminded me of many small German towns we have lived in, lit up and decorated for Christmas, beautifully, simply, mostly with natural materials. We found an ATM and a halal butcher, a bakery or two still open, small clothing stores and gift stores. It was one of my favorite stops.
We never see another passenger from the ship. We have this small town of Bad Schandau all to ourselves.
Many buildings have high water markings, showing how high the Elbe has risen during floods
As you might guess, I find these wood carvings charming. If I didn’t already have one, from long ago, I would be so tempted to buy a couple more. But how many do I need? How do I get this back with my limited baggage? And who will want this when I am gone? Reluctantly, I pass.
Back on the Beyla, the crew continued heroically. Some people didn’t even know we were supposed to leave for Decin. It was our last night on board the ship, with a jolly group at dinner. I had pumpkin soup, chicken in wine sauce, and a plum tart, all wonderful. There are many of these passengers we hope we will see again, on a future cruise.
We went back to the cabin to finish up our packing and ready ourselves for arrival in Prague.
Christmas Markets on the Elbe: Meissen
We left Torgau early in the morning cruising slowly through the snowy landscape to Meissen, with an arrival just after lunch. We are all delighted for the opportunity to catch up – re-organize our suitcases, catch up on e-mails, just watch the Elbe drift by – so very rural, all the way. Churches. Monasteries. Fields. People are out walking their dogs. We love that so many wave at the boat.
We are right in the middle of the demographic on board. There are some young sixty’s. There is one woman, stalwart and brave, who is 88. We like her a lot. The people who have chosen this cruise are interesting; we all tend to switch around at meals and have gotten to know one another. When there are only maybe 90 passengers, you become familiar quickly. There is one group of maybe 22 people who were all from Philadelphia, worked together in a start-up back-in-the-day, and who have traveled together for years. They are also good mixers.
The big topic is The Next Chapter. Some of us have already downsized, some are in the process, and some are contemplating it. While I was not a big collector as a young wife, I do have treasures, some with which I have parted, and some of my Middle East treasures passed along to Little Diamond. The problem we all have is that we all have treasures our children and our culture no longer value. Times are changing, no one wants a buggy whip or fine china or crystal champagne glasses for 40 people, LOL.
We board the bus for the Meissen factory, but once there, we told Eve we would take off and we could make our way back to the boat on our own. I think she was taken aback, but she rolled with it after asking Gary “You don’t want to learn about porcelain making?” and then to me, in disbelief “You don’t want to buy some Meissen pieces?” “No,” I responded, “We just want to walk and enjoy our time here.” And she let us go.
We stopped and picked up money at the ATM, limited to under $500/day. That would be plenty, except that we are trying to gather funds for our June trip with the family. I asked some nice women, one with a baby carriage, how to get to the market, and they gave me simple directions. I can still speak and understand the simplest German, not the complicated German.
The town hall has numbered its windows like an Advent Calender, and they open to a different display with each day. We walked around the market – and then headed up to the cathedral on the top of the hill, a hike of several hundred steps uphill, with a few level areas where we could catch our breath as much younger hikers breezed past us. It’s humbling.
But what a thrill to reach the top, see the massive church complex at the top of the hill, look out over 180 degrees of vineyards, the Elbe, the old city of Meissen and the newer areas.
Sometimes, when you’ve done something like climb straight uphill on snowy, icy steps, and you’ve made it – it’s just great to be alive.
We slowly wound our way down the hill via the streets, and the steps, ending up back in the old market. Nearby, we found a cafe where we ordered the hot chocolate (it comes with lots of whipped cream) and apfelstrudel.
I actually like the decorations sold in some of these specialty shops better than the goods I see in the Christmas Markets.
The walk back to the ship was actually very short, but also windy and we were cold when we got back. I snuggled up under the featherbed for a nice, but short snooze. It was the Viking Explorers cocktail hour night, special drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and then the announcement of the German Night dinner and our Port talk for the next day’s visit to Dresden, 90% destroyed by allied bombers near the end of WWII.
Not my favorite dinner, but lovely for those unfamiliar with German food. Heavy emphasis on Bavarian fare, blue and white decorations, sausages on the table, first course of charcuterie, nice cuts of black forest ham, salami, and some very nice cheeses (sort of odd progression.) Then a buffet of primarily sausages and noodles, rot kohl, but also some sauerbraten and chicken schnitzel, which I had with green salad and a little potato salad. Skipped dessert, still happy with the afternoon’s apfelstrudel. Around 2030 my husband kicked me under the table to indicate he was ready to leave. Got things ready for the next day, got ready for bed, and had one of the best night’s sleep since we arrived.
Hiking for Petroglyphs in Mesa Verde
We got up early to head for the Ute reservation park center, where you find tours to take you onto the Ute reservation, only to find it was closed. It’s a beautiful morning, although there are some threatening clouds, so we had to nearby Mesa Verde, stopping at the Cortez welcome center where a kind lady tells us about the Spruce House petroglyph trail, a 2.4-mile trail, fairly easy, she tells us, which reassures me because I am in a skirt and sandals.
We love Mesa Verde. We’ve been here before, and we can see there have been a lot of major improvements since the last time we were there.
Some of the roads are still not open, due to damage over the winter, but the hike to the petroglyphs is open.
As we drive into the Spruce House parking lot, there is a great parking spot, and as we turn into it, there is a woman in the next car, pulling things out, and scowling at us like “go somewhere else to park!” AM couldn’t resist chatting her up; it looked like she had her entire household packed in her car and no matter how nice he was, she was crabby and negative in return. We couldn’t help but laugh.
We ask the Ranger at the Museum about the Spruce House trail and he tells us there is one place, just past the petroglyphs, that is a hard vertical climb, but the rest is easy.
It was not. This was one of the hardest hikes I can remember in a long time, with many steep narrow stone ascents and descents.
Just as we entered Mesa Verde, my camera battery had gone, so I only had my phone camera, not my bigger camera, which turned out to be a really good thing. By the time we discovered how hard the trail would be, we couldn’t really turn back, so we made frequent stops to calm our heart rates. Some hikers passed us heading back, some because they had tour times they realized they couldn’t make it if they completed the hike, and some just turned back because it was too hard.
We gutted it out. There were times we just laughed.
We made it to the petroglyphs, and appreciated the beauty of Spruce Canyon. We were on many narrow little trails on which a false step could result in a long, dangerous fall, which made us very intentional in our foot placement, and slowed our pace.
Just after the petroglyphs we came to the place the Ranger had described. People were turning back. There were places that required finding a place to plant your foot where you could lift yourself to the next level, raising the other leg.
That I could do! I do it three times every week, exiting the pool! It is the same movement! We waited for another group to pass us – me being in a skirt and having to raise it to execute the climbing moves up the rocks. We stopped a couple times in the climb just to catch our breaths, to slow our hearts, and to appreciate how difficult this was, and we were doing it!
Once we got to the top, there was a smooth, easy path back to the museum. We took it slow, our thigh muscles were aching from all the ascents and decents, and my hips were aching from the climbs. We were so thankful just to finish the hike, but we were laughing at the description of this hike as an “easy level trail.” We later learned it was listed as a strenuous hike, a description we would agree with.
Just happy it’s over. We made it. We made it!
On the way home, late in the afternoon, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant in Cortez which had intrigued AdventureMan; Gustavo’s.
We really liked it. I ordered three street tacos al pastor, and AM ordered the chicken mole.
We were both delighted with our orders; mine were small tacos with just meat and onion and cilantro, and a spicy sweet mustard sauce, absolutely delicious. AM’s mole was a WOW, with sweet tender chicken with a sauce that was decidedly chocolate but carried a big heat. As usual, we couldn’t eat it all, so we boxed up one of his chicken mole’s and an order of Gustavo’s lemon pie (it was more like a lemon tiramisu, with layers of pastry between layers of a mascarpone and lemon filling, amazing and unusual) to take with us for dinner.
When dinner came, we were still so full we just had a couple slices of the comte cheese and crackers for dinner, and that was enough.
Exploring Kelley’s Ancient Echoes
I got up early, caught up on e-mails, and lectionary readings, then AdventureMan got up and we had breakfast. We dressed for hiking, took our full water bottles and headed out, eager to explore the grounds at Ancient Echoes at Kelly’s. The Canyon of the Ancients is in our backyard! We are good hikers, confident hikers. We are eager!
We visited the old pueblo house and the underground kiva, saw Cecelia, one of the owners, making mounds for planting corn, beans and squash (the three sisters of the ancients in these parts), and asked her some questions about the grounds, and then headed off past the casitas, past up into the hills to visit more ancient ruins. It was shady and cool, and an easy path. “Just follow the cairns” Cecelia had told us, to the top of the ridge. Keep your eye on the spire.
We crossed the arroyo and headed up and down the trail until we reached the barbed wire at the top of the ridge, passing the ancient ruins. Deciding to turn back – it was getting hotter – we backtracked, following cairns (rocks piled in a deliberate style to guide trekkers) we crossed the arroyo and headed for a cairn on the opposite ridge. It was much more difficult, as we had to find a diagonal way up a sheer red stone face, which, huffing and puffing, we did.
Looking for the next cairn, AM found a circle of stones, and we looked at each other – we didn’t remember seeing a circle of stones before. We couldn’t find any more cairns, either. We roamed back and forth on the ridge, circling back to a tree where we would rest. It kept getting hotter, and our water was running shorter. In the steeper areas we were rock climbing, on hands and knees, not as easy as when we were younger. We crossed to the next ridge, from which we could see Kelly’s camp clearly, see our own suite clearly, but from which we could not descend because it was steep and ended in an overhang with a drop.
Finally, knowing where we needed to be, we headed back to the arroyo, and down the arroyo a little farther where we found our missing trail. We were so delighted to find our way home again after being on the trail over three hours more than a little afraid we would be “those elderly people who were found by the rescue team.” We were so thankful when we found the right trail. We were probably dehydrated as well as exhausted. We fell into bed and slept, awakening stiff from climbing up and down the hills and arroyo. We finished our BBQ sandwiches and spent the afternoon reading and relaxing.
Re-energized, we went into Cortez for dinner at the Farm Bistro, a popular local restaurant specializing in local sourcing. I had a yak burger, made from real local yaks, and AM had the French Onion soup and an Antipasto platter, with local meats and cheeses. It was very good, and a relaxing way to end our day.
We found the City Market and picked up parsley and garlic bread for the next day, and gassed up the car.
In the middle of the night, I heard the weirdest scratching, like something was in the walls. It woke AM, too, and we banged on the walls and told it to go away – and it did, then it would come back again. After about an hour and a half, we made it feel unwelcome enough that it never came back, and we allowed ourselves to sleep in. We told the owners the next morning. I don’t know what they did, but we were never bothered again.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Friday in Wadi Rum
It thrilled our hearts to see the Jordanian flag on the pilot boat leading us into Aqaba. We later learned that Abu Dhabi has plans to take over port management in Aqaba. We wonder how that works?
We lost an hour in transit, so when we docked in Aqaba at 7 a.m. our body time was 6 a.m. We ate a quick breakfast, grabbed our gear (headed for the desert) and met up the Nautica Lounge to get our assignment. We caught up with shipboard friends Ed and Alan, who were headed to Petra, and with Glennys and Blaise. We were on a larger bus, and 43 people, none of whom we knew well. We drove about an hour to the new visitor center.
Arriving at the visitor center, we were pointed to the restrooms and were told to form groups of five or six to ride in the back of the trucks. The trucks and drivers were waiting; we just headed for a truck with several others and it turned out to be a good choice, pure luck, as the guide, Majd, was riding in this truck with the son of the village chief. Majd also turned out to be the tour leader.
We were with a Czech couple now living in Toronto, and a guy from Buffalo, and it was a good group. We had to climb into the truck over the back gate. Actually, this cracked me up, bumping along in the back of the truck, wind in our faces. Once again, it is a relatively cool day, even chill in the shadows, so I am thankful for the bargain kufiyah I picked up in Luxor.
We bumped out through the mountains to a site where camels waited, and there were some petroglyphs on the wall.
Majd said they used to be higher, but an earthquake changed the topography.
I am guessing some of these petroglyphs are more contemporary. Some may be older.
We loaded up and bumped along to another site for taking photos, a short distance away. It was amazing to me to see all the semi-permanent camping set-ups in the wadi. Hard to imagine Lawrence of Arabia and his group of marauders here among the campers.
Then we drove to a majlis-style tent and drank coffee or tea with little cookies. It was a large air-conditioned in-the-style-of-a-Bedouin-tent, with tables and chairs, and there was an outdoor sitting area, where we could imagine at night they might hold campfires.
The bus was waiting to take us back to Aqaba. Alas, no more fresh air in the back of the truck, which I thought was really fun.
People wanted to stop for souvenirs, so Majd called a friend who opened his shop for those who wanted to shop. That reminded me of the old Jordan. It was Friday, the Muslim holy day when people normally have a large mid-day meal with family, but for his friend, he opened the shop. Next to the shop were some less modern structures, probably to contain domestic animals, or maybe camels 🙂
Jordan is a beautiful country, with amazing sights. It’s a pity to have only a short time here, but a short time is better than no time. On the whole, our time actually in Wadi Rum was about an hour, the rest at the tent.
For me, it was just sad. I have such wonderful, vivid memories of how wild and free and beautiful Wadi Rum can be. We used to be able to walk in the long slot canyons.
Now, there is trash all over the Wadi, plastic bags, plastic bottles, a pile of old broken toilets, old tires – detritus of civilization. I can understand why the Jordanians would limit access.
Here I am, a tourist. I remember the days when tourists were rare. We who lived there had to wait for the relatively cool weather in November, and for the full moon, to make the trip. We rode on camels into the Wadi, with a feast of kebabs and salads and bread, and young bedouin men jumping through the fire at night, just for fun. We slept on the sand, still warm from the day’s sunlight. I’m glad we have such a lovely memory; these things are just not possible now.
Forty years ago, November in Wadi Rum: AdventureMan of Arabia 🙂
Heading out into the desert.
What fun, to revisit these wonderful adventures!
Enough nostalgia. We are back at the boat; Aqaba has little going on today, Friday, and most of the action seems to go right by our balcony – it’s a great day for boating.
We unbundled ourselves, then went for lunch at Waves. We split a Surf and Turf (steak and lobster) sandwich, and I had some salad, And AdventureMan had a strawberry shake.
After lunch, while AdventureMan went to the steam room, (the spa is being cleaned out and maintained) I did a load of laundry to make sure I have enough clothes to get me through the rest of the trip. Actually, I kind of like doing laundry; it is not hard, and it is sort of meditative.
For dinner, Ashok brought us an appetizer, and then dinner – two onion soups, smoked salmon, a mezze plate and we split a creme brûlée. We eat in our nightclothes and sit on our balcony as we pull out of Aqaba and floated south past the border with Saudi Arabia. A lovely, quiet, private evening.
Once again, a day of surprises. The happy part was that it was cool, not hot, and I was happy to have my new kufiya with me. We were glad to be with another good group in the back of the truck; we had some good conversations. The downside for us was that Wadi Rum has become a place for tourists, and we, who once roamed Wadi Rum on camelback, are now tourists, not people who live there and absorb and learn from the culture. We are nostalgic for our old lives . . . and pragmatically, we are no longer the people who lived those lives.
But the surprises aren’t over! As we leave Aqaba, we are shortly off the coast of Saudi Arabia, where we also once lived, and Saudi Arabia has these huge electric signs to greet cruisers.
I believe the first one is the Muslim shahada, profession of faith that there is no God but God, and Mohammed is his prophet. It is HUGE:
I have no idea what this one says, but maybe it is a blessing for those on boats?
All in all, a great day.
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