Taos, So Beautiful, We’ll Be Back
Some places, when you arrive, you just feel at home. We felt that way arriving in Taos. Our active-aging demographic went hand in hand with the young skier/snowboarder/rafter athletic demographic, and the two seemed to co-exist well.
We met a man in town who loves petroglyphs as I do, knows the secrets of where to find them and also has a vibrant and active mind. We found great walking, and beautiful spaces. We can’t wait to go back to Taos.
Mesa Verde, Cliff House Loop and Coyote Village
We decide to head back to Mesa Verde for our last full day and see some of the sights we didn’t get to yesterday. We started with the Cliff House loop, and were amazed to see how many people were there before us. There was a bus full of Italians, and a bus full of French people. There were all kinds of people our age waiting for the Ranger tour of the Cliff House; you need reservations and the numbers are limited. We did it the last time so felt comfortable skipping it this time, and went on to view other sites, some of which were open, and some not.
The most productive site for us was the Far View site, where archeologists have excavated much of a village and reservoir from ancient times.
The Docent Ranger tells us that they may have to close the exhibit soon because some of the walls are so fragile that even with careful visitors, the stress on ancient stones and foundations are too fragile to survive the number of visitors, which is affecting their condition.
We were able to see the storage rooms and the kivas. People talk about the ceremonial functions of the kivas – they look to me like they had functional purposes, perhaps keeping people out of the heat and out of the elements, perhaps gatherings, yes, and it made me think of Thanksgiving and how a very casual gathering could be described as ceremonial.
I think we toss that word around too lightly. I think we are often discussing customary, daily doings and elevating these daily rituals by calling them ceremonial. Am I ceremonial while I wash my dishes, or hang my laundry? Do I ceremonially cook our dinner?
I love visiting these sites and having these conversations in my head.
We take a chance on getting a table at the Absolute Bakery in Mancos, a place we love. Very casual, everything home made and delicious, and we are lucky, they have enlarged and have a room in the back which they open for us, and then others, too.
Back at the cabin, we finish off the spaghetti and garlic bread back at the cabin for our last dinner in Cortez, and the last few bites of Gustavo’s lemon pie. I check with Cecilia and Alison about what is required for check out (every B&B has its own requirements) and they tell me just to leave our food, that they will use what they can and take care of the rest. We won’t be doing our own cooking for the rest of the trip.
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.
The Ute Tribal Museum in Montrose, Colorado
Our next stop was the Ute Tribal Museum in Montrose, a two-hour stop in a museum full of meaningful information on Ute daily life, the long history of the Utes on this continent, and the shameful treatment they received at the hand of our government, cynically breaking treaties and steadily eroding Ute territorial holdings.
There are all kinds of educational segments using materials to give a hands-on understanding of how teepees were raised, for example, and how beading was accomplished.
There were weaponry displays and best of all, there were many short visual film segments on a variety of topics, including a 22-minute film on the Bear Dance, which was absolutely fascinating. They had a gift shop full of wonderful jewelry and art pieces, as well as the usual books and souvenirs.
The Ute Museum was one of the highlights of our trip. It came at just the right time, as we were still at the beginning of our trip, and could relate much of what we learned to what we saw along the way.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Abu Dhabi to Pensacola
Ashok brings breakfast to our room just as we finish dressing and we are able to say our last goodbyes.
The new Abu Dhabi Louvre, which will feature the painting bought by Prince Badr bin Abdullah Al Saud, attributed to Leonardo Da Vinci for $450.3 million at auction.
We are excited. We have a lot planned for Abu Dhabi, and we are eager to begin our journey home. We can hear the baggage being unloaded, ready to be claimed by disembarking passengers.
Buses are waiting to take other passengers on tours, or to hotels.
Compared to other disembarkations, when we had to leave at 3:00 a.m. to catch flights back to the US, this is very civilized; breakfast at 6:30, and departure scheduled for 8:00. As it turns out because we have made independent arrangements, we can depart before the groups, and we do.
Our driver is not there, but there is an Azamara ship parked just next to ours so AdventureMan leaves me with the bags and walks over to the next parking lot to find our driver, waiting with a sign with our name on it. He directs him to our ship, we say goodbye to our Belgian friends, who are also expecting a driver, and we load up. He takes us to the Marriott, where we are given a beautiful room on the 21st floor and we look out in awe and the sheer awesomeness of Abu Dhabi architecture.
It is already really hot outside, even at 8 in the morning. We shower. We settle in.
I can’t believe it. There’s a mall, and a LuLu within walking distance. AdventureMan promises to take me there at nightfall. The LuLu was one of my favorite stores in Doha – we did a lot of our grocery shopping there. It had a lot of prepared foods, mostly Indian, and a lot of foods we had never seen before. One time the LuLu had a Mango-Fest. Who knew there were so many kinds of mango, like more than 80 kinds?
This is a qibla. We haven’t seen a qibla in a long time. It is the mark on the ceiling that tells us in which direction, in which we would find Mecca.
We have the same driver at 10:00, and he takes us to Abu Dhabi’s Heritage Village, which we love. Abu Dhabi has gathered craftspeople from all over the Middle East to demonstrate dying crafts – boatbuilding, wool-spinning, weaving, making thobes trimmed in real silver and gold threads, made of the finest camel wool, beating copper into pots and bowls, making silver-trimmed daggers (khanjars), weaving tent bands. It was lovely, stimulating – and also very hot.
We take a photo of our driver’s car so we can find him when we are through at the Heritage Park.
The boatbuilder
The man who made elegant traditional winter robes, bisht, for men and women
The weaver of wool, and of pictures
The maker of Khanjar, the curved daggars worn at the waist, and also maker of the sheaths which protect them.
Next stop was the Abu Dhabi “souks” – more stores selling souvenirs and handicrafts, but a level up from the tourist-oriented markets.
AdventureMan spotted the shop I had been looking for, a shop selling fresh saffron, but it had so much more! Camel milk soap in natural and in black, with varied scents, loofahs and treats for bathing, and thousands of spices, some of which we had no idea how to use. I invested in saffron, for us, for our foodie friends, and loved knowing we had found just the right shop, Wadi al Zafran.
We were hungry, and the concierge at the hotel had given us the name of a good family restaurant, Zahrat Lubnan on Defense Street, where we could get good food at local prices. We found it, and I laughed, it was just what we had asked for, full of families, and it was noisy! But one look at the menu and we knew we were in the right place, the food is the food we have learned to love with all our years in the Middle East, all our favorites. The noisiest of the families leave, and we enjoy our lunch thoroughly, including more very fresh pomegranate juice and strawberry juice.
This gave me a giggle; I had forgotten how traditional restaurants used tissue for napkins.
Muhammara! My favorite! To my delight, it tastes a lot like mine, made with a recipe given to me by a generous Kuwait blogger many years ago, thank you, Yousef!
The stuffed vegetables and lamb special – if only we had been six people we might have been able to eat it all. It was delicious.
Back at the hotel, in the heat of the afternoon, we nap, knowing we have a long night ahead of us. We are so thankful for a nice room, a good shower, and a breathtaking view.
At 11:00 pm our driver takes us to the airport, we get checked in, ticketed, and we go to the lounge to pass the hours before our flight would begin loading.
Processing our shipboard experience is ongoing. At the very beginning of the trip, we met Ed and Alan. I saw them at breakfast in Barcelona and liked them. We became acquainted on the bus to the ship and kept running into one another and having good conversations the entire trip. In the end, AdventureMan saw them as he was retrieving his passport and said our goodbyes. We really enjoyed knowing them.
We met a Belgian couple; he was 59 and had had a stroke that left him immobile and unable to talk, but he was still alive and lively in his head and his desire to participate. His wife is 50 and very committed to living as normally as possible, wheeling him everywhere in his chair, taking him on excursions where possible, and giving him every experience they are able to arrange. I liked them both and admired their courage and resilience, and persistence in the face of daunting circumstances.
We felt very fortunate to have next-door neighbors we also really liked, Miguel and Margarita, so sweet and so kind to one another, and with such an interesting history.
I admire the staff. For passengers, we get on and it’s like the party begins. For the staff, with endless cycles of passengers, it’s like the party never ends, and they are the hosts. It is exhausting to be so chipper, so helpful, so willing to facilitate, and to make it look so easy. It is hard work, and we admire their commitment to making every experience good for the passengers, often at great sacrifice in their private lives.
We had a great flight on Etihad en route to Brussels. We slept well and had a nice breakfast. I had yogurt but AdventureMan shared his “Brioche” which was hot and goopy and fancy with a huge burst of flavor from the first bite.
Brussels was easy. We settled in the lounge until our flight was called. Then the flight was delayed waiting for some passengers, and delayed, and the passengers never came. As we sit, waiting to depart, we are now scheduled to land about 25 minutes before the next flight is scheduled to depart. AdventureMan talked to the flight attendants; they say our connecting flight probably won’t be held and we will have to schedule on the next flight. That throws the flight out of Atlanta into question, too. We’ll need to make arrangements for our cats to be covered another day, or two until we can get back to Pensacola.
Afterword:
Montreal was a nightmare. When we arrived and were shuttled through the arrivals, we assumed we would go to transit, but all passengers to the USA were directed into a third line which went into US Customs. We had given ourselves extra time in Atlanta to go through customs. We had never heard a word about the “convenience” of going through US Customs in Montreal. It was confusing, it was cumbersome, and we had our faces scanned for facial recognition software. We were tired. This was new and unexpected. There is also a new system of baggage screening so you wait until your bag shows up as “cleared” on a screen, then you can pick your bag up and head for your next flight.
Do I need to say we missed our flight to Atlanta? We were directed to a customer service man who would direct us to our next flight. There was one man, a very patient and long-suffering clerk in a booth, and 20 agitated people in front of us. The line behind us grew quickly; the line in front of us moved slowly. One woman, who needed to get a flight to Paris, he told to sit and wait while he took care of all the others – and the line is stretching on into oblivion by this point. I went to the Air Canada lounge to see if they could help; they could not.
Finally, we were put on a Delta flight, and we would not make it to Atlanta in time to catch our flight to Pensacola. While AdventureMan gleaned two seats in the Air Canada Lounge, I tried to find a quiet place (the lounge was in an uproar with the customs change and all the people who had missed their ongoing flights) to connect with Delta and arrange for a later flight. After a lengthy conversation, we determined there was no flight for which we had a hope of connection, so she booked us for the next day.
Here is one ray of sunshine. It is Thanksgiving weekend. When Oceania had told us they would only book us out of Atlanta, and that Pensacola to Atlanta and back was on us, the only ticket I could find on Delta were two full-fare first-class tickets. They were the only tickets on the flight. I bit the bullet, way back months ago, and bought the tickets. Good thing, as it turned out, because with a full fare ticket, and calling before we actually missed the flight, we were able to book a flight for the next day with no extra fees charged.
I found AdventureMan and explained the situation to him. The lounge was packed, and getting unruly as more disturbed and tired passengers entered. I suggested we leave, find the gate (which changed twice as we waited), and that I really needed him to find us a room in Atlanta; I was fried and needed his help. My hero, he pulled out his trusty mobile phone, looked at Atlanta, found the nearest hotel to the airport and reserved a room.
We had one checked bag, which Customs had shown us arrived and was cleared, but it had not been booked on the flight on which we were scheduled. We checked the Apple AirTag Find My Carry-On, and it showed us exactly where our bag was in the airport and some very good Delta agents tracked it down and had it put on the cart for our plane. I will never travel anywhere again without AirTags in my bags.
At this point, something very odd showed up. “Find My” showed my “backpack,” which just before departure from Pensacola had actually turned into a duffle. It was shown to be in Cadiz, Spain, which was very odd, because I had it with me, I was holding it. Only later did I discover the AirTag was not in the “backpack,” it must have disappeared somewhere in Barcelona (I had last checked on it when we were boarding the ship, and it was on the dock) but while the bag was with me, and that is what matters, the AirTag had been liberated and was leading a life all its own.
We were exhausted. We had been traveling for about 20 hours at this point, and had hoped to be home. The flight from Montreal to Atlanta was sheer hell; we were hoping to sleep and there was a (sweet) family behind us with an 18-month-old baby. It is late at night, the baby is fussy and the Mom, God bless her, is tossing the baby up and squealing loudly, to keep him from crying and disturbing other passengers. So we would be nodding off and (SQUEAL!) or (SCREECH!) and then we would be not sleeping.
I have full sympathy for anyone traveling with infants and children. I had to do it for many years myself. The Mom was doing her best. It’s not easy traveling with a very young child.
After what seemed like an eternity, we landed in Atlanta, a very COLD Atlanta, late at night and we are still in our Abu Dhabi hot-weather clothes. Our checked bag shows up on the AirTag finder as having arrived with us (another blessing we don’t take for granted) and we picked it up and got in the line for bus transportation to the terminal where airport hotel buses pick up.
Fortunately, I had a sweater in my duffel, which I pulled out and put on. Buses for hotels came and went, but not ours. Then, it came and it was a large bus, for the Airport Marriott Hotel, and it was just us and the crews from two or three different airlines, chatting about mutual friends and funny things happening on flights.
When we got to the hotel, we loved it. The lobby was full of young people, mostly with computers, some working intently (it was 11 pm by this point), some socializing, all laid-back and having a good time. It was so relaxed, it felt like a college dorm. We were quickly checked in and reached our very simple but quiet room where we were delighted to have hot showers and get to bed. Well done, AdventureMan!
Sunrise in Atlanta
We slept and slept, and woke with plenty of time to dress and get ourselves back to the airport, to check in for our flight, and even to have some breakfast in a familiar bookshop where we have eaten before. We decided having the unexpected overnight in Atlanta was really not such a bad thing.
Our big worry would have been our cats, but our caretaker was able to stay another day and the cats were fine. We got to sleep without unpacking, unconcerned with transitioning back to our normal life, and the short flight to Pensacola was uneventful. We had a great cab ride home, unpacked, went to lunch, and had a very unhurried day as we began to sink back into our Pensacola lives, and prepare for Christmas. 🙂
Creme Chantilly: Happy Easter, Mom
Easter week, and I allow myself Creme Chantilly with my morning coffee.
Cream whipped with powdered sugar and a little vanilla for Easter morning crepes with the ham and other Easter dishes, it is a bittersweet treat this year; sweet and joyful that we can gather as a family to celebrate Easter, our good health, our hopes for the years to come, and sad, too, because most of what I have learned in terms of meal preparation and entertaining, I learned from my Mom.
My Mom died a year ago this week, in Seattle, one of the earliest victims of the COVID virus. I am still coming to grips with the way she died. When she went into the hospital, they were trying to figure out what this virus was, and how do deal with it. Even those already in Seattle could not visit nor sit by her bed. Flying from Pensacola to Seattle was unthinkable, but such a temptation. She was brave. We all FaceTimed, and she told us we were good, and we were loved. She faced her demise valiantly.
Rest in Peace, Mom. I am thinking of you all this week, and drinking your Creme Chantilly in my coffee.
“Plenty of Sunshine Heading our Way”
We’ve been having Seattle weather – weeks of cold, dreary, cloudy days and heavy fog some mornings causing bad accidents. We are ready for some Spring. And it’s coming, starting today:
Plenty of sunshine heading our way!
The original Disney version of this song
Thank you, Dr. Martin Luther King
I love that Google does these special doodles to honor men and women who make a difference. This is their doodle for today, to honor a man who knew how to incite for all the right reasons, and to keep it peaceful. He had a vision. He had the patience to watch his vision unfold. I wish he could be here long enough to see Joe Biden’s cabinet. We’re not there, but we are learning to practice what we say we believe.
Bozeman Yellowstone Airport
How often does an airport rate a blog entry? From the moment we landed in Bozeman to begin our trip, I was itching to take photos and show you what a beautiful job they have done positioning the Bozeman airport as the entry to Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks.
First, the airport is structured to look like a high-end game lodge. They have high ceilings, a huge stone fireplace, several sculptures and pieces (probably reproductions, but hey) from the Museum of the Rockies. I LOVE this airport.
I love the bobcat jumping off the ledge of the fireplace 🙂
And a last view of the mountains, from the airport.
Wake of the Vikings: A Wonderful Welcome in Saguenay, Quebec
We awaken to a beautiful morning on the Saguenay river. As I am fixing my hair, there are dolphins – or porpoises (is there a difference?) playing just outside the open window, and whale spouts and tails from time to time. It is a glorious morning, and AdventureMan is feeling better, but not better enough to take the Zodiac ride in the park which we had scheduled.
It doesn’t matter. It is a glorious day, we have some fog as we pass along the river, but the day is beautiful. Blue skies and whales! AdventureMan snoozes after breakfast, building up energy, and I leave him alone so he can recuperate.
We have to go very slowly; Canadian Maritime law is humane, and protects the migrating whales.
Around noon, we dock in Saguenay:
This boat is not us, it is one of the French Soleal line. Only one boat can dock, so this time they have to use the tenders.
AdventureMan and I exit the boat to walk through Saguenay and find a bite of non-ship food to eat. Viking Ocean cruises has a lot of nice food, and most of it is lightly seasoned so as not to offend anyone. They do a great job of taking care of a lot of people, but sometimes there are slips. We ate mussels one night, and they were delicious – but served tepid! Almost cool!
We are blown away by the Saguenay welcome. We have been told these are all volunteers, they dress in old time costumes and greet the arriving passengers with welcomes, photos, flags, free little blueberry juices, free blueberry pie, a small musical group playing local music – oh, it is a total party on the dock! Many of them don’t speak English, but they understand my French and I feel terrific. They understand my French! I’ve lost so much because I so rarely get an opportunity to use it, but the fluency comes back and I feel exhilarated.
Here is the man handing out Saguenay flags to all arrivals. AdventureMan tells me that the green signifies forestry and wildlife, the yellow is for agriculture which is a mainstay of their economy and he can’t remember what the silver stands for; you would think it is white, but it is really silver and as it is the cross, he believes it has to do with faith.
These people are so much fun, and are having such a great time. So are we!
They get one of the passengers to try the saw – it’s harder than it looks!
This man was flipping his son all around, and they were both really having fun with this local greeting party.
Yes! Yes! a “bluet” is a blueberry! I have a new word in my French vocabulary!
They are making natural maple sugar candy here, on a bed of ice, and giving it out. I get to show our grandson this; we were reading that American children’s classic, “Little House on the Prairie” and the author, Laura Ingalls Wilder described perfectly how this is done.
You know what I love about this? This is pure generosity of spirit. There really isn’t that much going on in Saguenay that would make it a draw, but these good people with their slices of blueberry pie, their costumes, their music, and their warm welcome, have created something worth traveling to see. They have their heritage. They are proud of it, and they are happy to share it with visitors. It’s just all win-win.
I love the juxtaposition here, the First Nation representatives against the background of the Viking invaders 😉
We asked one of the guides if they could recommend a good restaurant and they recommended one I had seen on TripAdvisor, just a short walk down the bicycle path. And Big Bravo for AdventureMan, the person I asked didn’t speak English, and we were trying to find the bicycle path and AdventureMan remembered “piste” from when we lived in Tunisia, and as soon as he said it, the person’s face lit up and he pointed us in the right direction.
It’s a perfect day. I am in short sleeves; temperatures are in the 70’s F. and the local young folk are in short shorts, halter tops and summer dresses. It is probably a wonderful late summer day to them. We dine outside at La Grange aux Hiboux.
It reminds us of places we used to eat lunch when we would get up early early on cold mornings to go to the big flea market in Metz.
We took the long way back to the ship, and passed this church.
I have to tell you something funny. Or at least it strikes me funny; I guess there are times when I am still silly and seven years old in my heart. The bay that Saguenay is situated along is called the Bay of Ha! Ha! There is a hop-on hop-off bus for cruise passengers, called, the Ho Ho. The HoHo is right next to the Bay of Ha! Ha!
Well, I think it is funny.
What I love, too, about Viking is their willingness to accommodate religious observances. (Did I already say this?) Tonight they are having a special dinner for those celebrating Rosh Hoshhana. How cool is that?
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