Mister Maesta’s Cafe in Holbrook, AZ
It is cold and rainy, rainy and windy as we leave the Petrified Forest, and on top of the time craziness, we are HUNGRY. We always have nibbles in the car, but a nibble is not a lunch. We are hungry. And we are in Mexican Food territory, so we are eager to maximize our good Mexican food eating.
Outside of Holbrook, we see a billboard for Mister Maester’s restaurant with ‘the BEST Mexican Food’ and that is just what we are looking for. When we find it, it is a hilarious place, full of Route 66 memorabilia.
Yes. I am so embarrassed. This is what is left of the sopapilla I ordered. It was SO delicious. I had never had a stuffed sopapilla before. I had heard some Mexican guys order sopapilla the day before, so I thought I would try one. When it got to the table, I forgot to photograph before eating. Oops. My bad.
This is what is left of AdventureMan’s combination plate. It was a total WOW.
By the time we left, the rain had lightened, the air was clear, the kind of clear after a heavy rain dampens down all the dust and the winds clear the haze and the world is brilliant and shiny, and we only have a very short drive to our stay in Winslow, AZ at the fabulous La Posada.
Arizona Crazy Time
As we left the Petrified Forest, I said “That is so weird. My phone says it’s 1:20 but the car clock says 2:20. What does your phone say?”
His phone also said 1:20.
“Did we cross another date line?” I wondered.
“No! Look at the map, the date line is over on the other side of Arizona!” AdventureMan explained.
“How can it be 1:20? It feels like 2:20, and we spent so much time at the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest, how could it be 1:20?”
When we got to the hotel (next entry) and were checking in, we both THOUGHT we overheard the desk clerk telling someone that they were on “Arizona-Pacific Time” but that is just so whacko we both must have misunderstood.
It was only after four days in Arizona (entries follow) when we left Arizona and were in Colorado that we got our answer: Arizona doesn’t do Daylight Savings. So when all the states in Mountain Time go on Daylight Savings Time, they jump forward an hour. Arizona doesn’t. So that makes Arizona on Pacific time, one little island of Pacific Coast Time in the middle of all the Mountain Daylight Time States.
To make it all just a little crazier, there is a huge amount of land in Arizona that is the Navajo Nation. The Navajo Nation observes Daylight Savings Time.
Weird.
The Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest – Crossing into Arizona
Leaving Albuquerque, we are delighted to be taking I-40 going West; it’s like everyone else is on I-40 coming East. The drive is smooth, a little road work here and there, but nothing that holds us up in any major way. We cross the continental divide (where all the rivers on the east side flow to the Gulf of Mexico, and those on the West side flow into the Pacific) and we wonder what the divide is called, if anything, that divides rivers flowing into the Gulf of Mexico from rivers flowing into the Atlantic?
We are driving along the old Highway 66, too, which is fun, seeing the nostalgic old signs and relics from the 40’s and 50’s, when Route 66 was in its heyday and there weren’t big interstates fully functioning.
From Carlsbad, where we saw temperatures up to 99° F, we have dropped considerably, and hit the road with a temperature around 45°, which rises as we drive toward the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest. When we arrive, it is in the 80’s (F) and a bright, partly cloudy day. The colors and the scenery are unimaginable.
I included this one because it made me laugh. These signs are necessary; Americans are inclined to wander off the trail, it’s in our nature, and we need these signs to make us more careful where we are stepping 🙂
As we leave the Painted Desert trail and head into the Petrified Forest area, the weather starts getting seriously complicated and the temperatures start dropping:
I’ve never seen a toilet like this before. It’s amazing:
At the risk of giving you too much information, whatever goes into the toilet evaporates due to the constant wind action. Whoever sits on the toilet has the unusual experience of having a wind-dried bottom:
We start moving a little faster, not lingering as the weather changes:
Can you see how the light has changed? Just after taking this, huge raindrops started falling and we continued on to the end of the Petrified Forest. The temperature dropped to 45° (F)
The Magic of Back Roads – En Route to Albuquerque
I love interstate driving, it gets the job done. We love having all that room and zooming down a highway, especially if the highway is empty. We were born to drive.
I also love the backroads, and the USA has some great backroads. Today is almost all backroad, and oh, what a fun driving day it is.
Leaving Roswell, New Mexico, we take a route to Albuquerque through cattle country, and through Billy-the-Kid country, and Smokey-the-Bear country. We come across a giant lava flow, it goes on for miles, with vegetation finding a way to survive – even thrive – in the formerly molten rock:
We find a restaurant with old Homer Simpson in front:
When we were kids, everyone knew the song about Smokey the Bear:
And along this road, we went through Smokey the Bear’s home town!
We merge onto the interstate into Albuquerque, and this time, I successfully call a real Fairfield Inn and find a room for the night.
Now I rarely do this. If there is a place we eat and don’t like it, I just won’t say anything. This time I will say something, because this place, The Quarters, is listed in the Marriott recommended list of nearby restaurants. Hey, and it’s barbecue.
We found it, there aren’t a lot of restaurants around, and this sign was about 2 feet by 3 feet:
Less than a BBQ restaurant, it is very much a lounge, and as soon as you walk in you see men sitting alone at the bar, looking like they’ve been planted there for a century. There isn’t a lot of jolly conversation, just men silently drinking.
There is a separate area for dining, and I will say this, the servers are doing their best to make the best of a bad situation. The dining area has a mixture of bar mirrors and old quilts hanging. We ordered from the menu, and when my BBQ Turkey came, it was like Publix sliced turkey, the kind you buy in a package, on a normal hamburger bun. Their BBQ sauce was good, but this sandwich – it was like you would throw together with scraps you had left over in your own kitchen.
The Quarters has seen better days. It is dingy. The furniture is in bad repair. The carpets are in bad need of cleaning. And it’s Albuquerque – I am sure there are better places to eat. Don’t go there.
Riding Across the Wild West
We just figured this was going to be a rough boring stretch, driving I-10 across West Texas to New Mexico, but, as so often does, magic happened and the day changed totally.
AdventureMan had a little allergy, so I did the driving across the wilds of west Texas. It wasn’t anything like I had expected. I’ve read lots of books set in Texas, and seen movies. I expected No Country For Old Men. What I got was a long empty highway with hardly any fellow travelers, some spectacular scenery, hardly any speed limit at all, and lots of time to think and enjoy the ride. Wooo HOOOO on West Texas!
Turning north at Ft. Stockton, we entered Hackberry Holland country (James Lee Burke) with those long empty landscapes punctuated with endlessly pecking derricks, whirling dust, endless pick-ups and tankers, and not much else. The scenery went from those plateaus and arroyos to Qatar flat and white desert, from Texas wildflowers to succulents. Then, just around Pecos, Texas, as we are in the end stretch toward New Mexico, it turns more golden, like Kuwait, with some elevations. Across the border, I asked AdventureMan (now awake and feeling good again) “where is the red tint we see in all the ‘Visit New Mexico’ brochures?” Within half an hour, the iron-oxide tint shows up and we see the red glow start to appear.
We know we want to visit Carlsbad Caverns, so we spend the night in Carlsbad, and eat at Mi Casita. Here is what the desk clerk told us:
“I can’t eat at Mi Casita because the food is too spicy, but everyone who really loves Mexican food eats there.”
We loved it. I ordered things I don’t usually order, enchiladas and beans and rice, and it was so GOOD.
As we left, we went down to the city park and took pictures of the river, and AdventureMan fed the hissing geese some of his peanut-butter and crackers that we carry along in case we might starve or something ;-).
As soon as I can get these photos transferred from my iPad to my computer, I will put in the photos and this will be a much more interesting entry.
Late Afternoon in DeLuna Park
One of the great joys of living in Pensacola is seeing our grandson often. Yesterday, we were picking him up and keeping him until dinner, so we decided to take him to run in the fountains, only to discover that the fountains stop at 5 on Mondays – Wednesdays, and run until 8 on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. No problem – there is always something going on to thrill a two years old’s heart.
Yesterday, it was a tug-boat bringing in a huge dredger, with CRANES! Our two year old is all-boy. He loves car words, and truck words, and words like bulldozer, and pick-up, and CRANES. Watching the tugboat bring in the dredger thrilled his heart.
The crane lowers a cage onto the deck:
The pelicans are enthralled; the churning engines stir up fish and make finding supper easy pickings:
And then, chasing the pigeons! Where do they get the energy? A two-year-old can chase pigeons endlessly!
Pensacola Sunset
We’ve had a few days of low humidity and warm temperatures, perfect for all the Spring Breakers here in Pensacola. We don’t even complain about the clog on the highways and lines in the restaurants, after the big oil spill devastated the tourist industry, we’re just glad to see them back. 🙂
AdventureMan said “Hey, let’s go watch the sunset down at DeLuna Park” and so we did. It was a glorious sunset. In the other direction was a HUGE boat!
Rape Victim Commits Suicide After Being Forced to Marry Rapist
Aon AOL-Huffpost:
Amina Filali, Morocco Rape Victim, Commits Suicide After Forced Marriage To Rapist
By PAUL SCHEMM
RABAT, Morocco — The case of a 16-year-old girl who killed herself after she was forced to marry her rapist has spurred outrage among Morocco’s internet activists and calls for changes to the country’s laws.
An online petition, a Facebook page and countless tweets expressed horror over the suicide of Amina Filali, who swallowed rat poison on Saturday to protest her marriage to the man who raped her a year earlier.
Article 475 of the Moroccan penal code allows for the “kidnapper” of a minor to marry his victim to escape prosecution, and it has been used to justify a traditional practice of making a rapist marry his victim to preserve the honor of the woman’s family.
“Amina, 16, was triply violated, by her rapist, by tradition and by Article 475 of the Moroccan law,” tweeted activist Abadila Maaelaynine.
Abdelaziz Nouaydi, who runs the Adala Assocation for legal reform, said a judge can recommend marriage only in the case of agreement by the victim and both families.
“It is not something that happens a great deal – it is very rare,” he said, but admitted that the family of the victim sometimes agrees out of fear that she won’t be able to find a husband if it is known she was raped.
The marriage is then pushed on the victim by the families to avoid scandal, said Fouzia Assouli, president of Democratic League for Women’s Rights.
“It is unfortunately a recurring phenomenon,” she said.”We have been asking for years for the cancellation of Article 475 of the penal code which allows the rapist to escape justice.”
The victim’s father said in an interview with an online Moroccan newspaper that it was the court officials who suggested from the beginning the marriage option when they reported the rape.
“The prosecutor advised my daughter to marry, he said ‘go and make the marriage contract,'” said Lahcen Filali in an interview that appeared on goud.ma Tuesday night.
In many societies, the loss of a woman’s virginity outside of wedlock is a huge stain of honor on the family.
In many parts of the Middle East, there is a tradition whereby a rapist can escape prosecution if he marries his victim, thereby restoring her honor. There is a similar injunction in the Old Testament’s Book of Deuteronomy
Morocco updated its family code in 2004 in a landmark improvement of the situation of women, but activists say there’s still room for improvement.
In cases of rape, the burden of proof is often on the victim and if she can’t prove she was attacked, a woman risks being prosecuted for debauchery.
“In Morocco, the law protects public morality but not the individual,” said Assouli, adding that legislation outlawing all forms of violence against women, including rape within marriage, has been stuck in the government since 2006.
According to the father’s interview, the girl was accosted on the street and raped when she was 15, but it was two months before she told her parents.
He said the court pushed the marriage, even though the perpetrator initially refused. He only consented when faced with prosecution. The penalty for rape is between five and 10 years in prison, but rises to 10 to 20 in the case of a minor.
Filali said Amina complained to her mother that her husband was beating her repeatedly during the five months of marriage but that her mother counseled patience.
A Facebook page called “We are all Amina Filali” has been formed and an online petition calling for Morocco to end the practice of marrying rapists and their victims has already gathered more than 1,000 signatures.
Signs of Spring in Pensacola
Coming home from a meeting last night, I head into Joe Patti’s to pick up some crab for dinner, and holy smokes! The parking lot is full! There is no line coming out the door, and a car pulls out so I get a space, but what is going on?
Once I get in, I know. The place is PACKED, and most of these folk are wearing beach clothes or short sleeves, a couple young women in strapless sun dresses . . . I get it. It’s Spring Break time in Pensacola, and Joe Patti’s is as packed as it was on Christmas Eve Day. Lines to pay are snaking around everywhere, and I get the last loaf of multigrain French bread.
At least the lines are civil. The locals smile at one another – we’re all wearing long sleeves, it’s cloudy and a little on the cool side. Part of me smiles to think of myself as ‘local.’ Guess I’m getting there.
When I get home, AdventureMan is all smiles, and not just because I’m going to make Open Faced Crab Sandwiches for dinner. No! One of his Monarch butterflies has hatched! We’ve had such a mild winter that we’ve had a few hatching here and there all winter, but this is the first butterfly of spring, and he is fresh out of the cocoon. After losing two cocoons to hungry birds, he devised a protective shoe box. AdventureMan is fast becoming a local expert on creating a safe environments for butterflies to feed, lay eggs, cocoon and hatch. He’s also having a lot of fun with it.
On our back fence, a vine we planted last October is taking root and taking off. I think it is a coral honeysuckle, also called a coral trumpet honeysuckle, or coral trumpet vine. It attracts both butterflies and hummingbirds. 🙂
This is not particularly a Spring photo, but it is a seasonal photo. The oysters right now at the Marina Oyster Barn are HUGE! I had a bowl of oyster stew, AdventureMan had six raw oysters and the little lady sitting behind us had a full dozen. “I can’t get these in Illinois!” she exclaimed; AdventureMan could barely eat all six, they were so huge, so we had a hard time believing she could eat 12, but she did!
Just as the weather is perfect for getting outdoors and cleaning out the weeds, the pollen also starts flying. I get out while it is cool, weed a selected area and come back in and shower all the pollen off. It doesn’t do that much good; my eyes are still watering and I am sneezing, but who knows how bad it would be if I didn’t wash the pollen off?
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