The Hell that is Travel

I have returned from Iowa.

It was not without headaches.

I hate United Airlines tonight.

As a reminder, when I flew to Cedar Rapids, Iowa 3+ weeks ago, things started out fine.  I made it to Denver just fine, Walt had arranged for a wheelchair to meet me to get me through the humongous labyrinth that is the Denver Airport (which a group of us decided many years ago looks like a lactating possum) and that was just fine.

When I got to my gate, I found out that the flight had been delayed.   Over the next 3 hours, we kept getting more updates about when the next guess was that our plane would arrive.  I thought I would never get home. United Airlines offered no apology -- and no food and our gate was too far from the vendors for dragging my suitcase, computers, and cane down to get something. All day in transit with no meals served on either flight, not even a frigging bag of pretzels.  Fortunately Peach had a hot dog waiting for me when I arrived.

But that was three weeks ago.  Surely history would not repeat itself.  Oh how innocent I was!

Matthew and Miranda drove me to the airport at Cedar Rapids and Matthew helped me get my heavy luggage to the check in area, which made me giggle. Cedar Rapids is so small that this is the area where you check in for all airlines.   Each sign is for a different airline. And you can see how many were in line.

I didn't need wheel chair assistance in Cedar Rapids since the airport is so small (but it has an x-ray machine, which even Sacramento does not have), but I groaned when I got to the gate for my 4:50 flight and saw this.

Then, over the course of the next four hours, I kept getting updates on my delayed flight.  Somewhere in the middle of the NINE updates I got, someone had added "subject to change," which I told the gate clerk that I thought was very funny.  

I was already worried about making the 28 minute plane change in the huge Denver airport, but I need not have worried since our plane didn't arrive in Cedar Rapids until 2 hours after that plane had left Denver.  It was the last plane out of Denver for Sacramento for the night.

Not only did we not leave until 8:30, but when I sat down to kill time I discovered I had forgotten to charge my batteries before I left Peach's and I was running very low.  My kindle was dead, so no book reading on that.  My iPad was a little over half charged, but that would go quickly if I started using it to read.   And my cell phone was a little less than half charged, so I couldn't really even send snarky texts.  Things were so desperate that I actually bought a real book at the concession stand.

I left Davis three weeks ago with $41 in cash.  I came home with $9.  $1 of that I spent for a snack at the cancer center in Waterloo and the rest was spent in the airports, for water, snacks, the book, and tips for the people who transported me from place to place.  Not only that but the very first postcard I saw anywhere was at the Sacramento airport on my return.

I almost didn't take the wheel chair in Denver once I knew I didn't have to make the fast plane change.  How lucky I decided against refusing it!  From the plane, we had to go to Customer Service, where I was told by a very bored, unapologetic clerk that I would spend the night at the Red Lion Inn and I could catch the shuttle outside of door #5.  Then the chair pusher must have pushed me close to a mile (no exaggeration) to where she had a chat with a guy in a language I didn't understand, then she pushed me to an elevator, down to the bottom level, then catch the high speed tram for 3 stops, then back into the elevator and up to the 5th floor, where she left me standing at the hotel shuttle stop.  I don't know how I would have found the place--or walked that far (without my cane, which I left behind at Peach's) without that assistance.

Every bloody hotel in Denver came to pick up passengers except the Red Lion.  Finally after standing there in the 30 degree cold for half an hour, I called the Red Lion 800 number and had a fight with the person there.  I knew that person was somewhere in the U.S. not Denver, but when he asked me which side of the airport I was on and I told him I was not from there, had not planned to be there and didn't have a clue what side of the airport I was on I just about lost it.  He told me the hotel would not pick us up until we called them, but we (myself and a woman on my plane who was trying to get to Burbank) just assumed United would let them know.

We finally dragged ourselves into the hotel at about 10:30.  We had two vouchers for $7 for food, but there was no food, only vending machines and the Burbank woman was furious that she has to have a special diet and she guessed she would just "start a fast."  I had some peanuts left from the snack I bought in Cedar Rapids, so I just took a shower, ate my peanuts, drank some water, and didn't even take the covers off the bed, but slept on the couch, leaving a wake up call for 4:45 so I could get the 5:30 shuttle back to the airport.

The hotel offered a buffet at 5 and I had some weird  cubed scrambled eggs, which left my stomach decidedly unsettled.

When I got to the airport, I still had $14 worth of food vouchers, but no stomach for anything, so I brought them home with me.  

I was sure to accept wheel chair assist this time and it took three people to get me to the gate, a wheel chair woman who took me miles to a guy in a motorized vehicle who drove me as far as his vehicle could go and handed me off to another wheelchair person who took me to the gate (after taking me down in another elevator).   

I talked with a woman who had slept in the airport because her fight from Baltimore had been delayed and she, too, had missed her connecting flight, but refused to be put up in a hotel.  Thank god, our flight this time was not delayed, but when I was getting ready to board, I overheard an announcement at another gate that the plane the passengers were waiting for had not yet boarded from the airport it was coming from and so their flight would be delayed.

There is also a new deal, at least with the four planes I flew on.   Their overhead compartments are too small to fit suitcases designed for overhead compartments, so you have to have "valet checking" at the gate, which means you have to hand over your carry on luggage.  I took my iPod and computer out of the case first and then had to somehow get my suitcase, two computers, my purse and my cane down the walkway to the plane where you hand the suitcase over.  Then when you come off everybody who has been on the plane crowds around the end of the walkway waiting for their carry on luggage to be delivered to them before going to the baggage place where your other luggage is (maybe) waiting.  (I was almost glad I had forgotten my cane on the trip home because it was one less thing to have to juggle)

The plane from Denver to Sacramento was so small that I commented to the man who had the misfortune of sharing my seat that I was sure if United worked at it harder they could manage to make things even more uncomfortable.  And of course nobody offered us a pretzel, though I did get a glass of orange juice.

I was thrilled when we landed safely and I saw Walt waiting with my luggage, which he had already collected.  It was so good to finally stop traveling and though I miss being at Mallard Point, being able to settle into my very own recliner under Polly was wonderful.  Walt even went out and got Chinese food for dinner so I don't have to cook until tomorrow.

And California welcomed me home with open arms, rain, and a beautiful rainbow.

Midnight in Beantown

It's been a long day.  We were up late last night, getting the house ready for Ashley and David to move in and our suitcases packed because the plan was to leave by 8 a.m.  We rarely leave at the time we plan to leave, but we actually were on the road before 8:30, which is somewhat of a miracle.

Thank God Walt kept the traffic report on the radio because he had decided we would fly out of San Francisco, where we could get a direct flight to Boston, rather than from Sacramento, where we would have a plane change.  I have never heard traffic reports like this morning.  Every. single. highway.  Every. single. bridge. was backed up forever.  The Bay Bridge, the logical one to go over on your way to SFO was backed up from the toll plaza to Pinole, a distance of about 15 miles.  There didn't seem to be too much about the Golden Gate Bridge, so we decided to go that way and were VERY happy because when we got to the bridge (with only minor delays), we heard that the Bay Bridge was STILL backed up (though not as far now).

When we got to San Francisco, we stopped at the Stonestown shopping mall to look for a bathroom, which we were both "relieved" (in every sense!) to find.  I loved that they have those Dyson air hand dryers, which are SO much more efficient than those blowers...and fun to use too.

 

Outside the bathrooms, in the mall itself, we found these cute little "Mall Racers" for parents to push their kids around.

 

My favorite thing about them was the sign posted on the little bag attached to the back of it.

 

From Stonestown, we drove down to the place where we leave the car when we are flying out of SF.  On the way we saw something extremely unusual on the window of the car.

 

I seem to remember this phenomenon from years past, but I can't remember what you call it, it's been so long.

We had about 2 hours to kill in the airport, so we had lunch, and then they started lining up to get on the plane.  This was, they told us, a very. full. flight. so some people would have to be checking their carry on bags.  We were in the last group to board and I knew we would have to check our carry ons (which would involve unpacking one because there was no way I was going to check my computer and my iPad.

But then they called for people who needed assistance to board and I saw this one woman with a cane come forward and I thought...hey!  I can do that.  They got her in a wheelchair to take her to the gate, but let me follow (with Walt), so that we were the second to board and had no problem with stowing luggage.

In truth, I did feel a little guilty. Watching the woman who boarded with me, she obviously had a lot more trouble than I did, but I didn't worry about it too much.  During the flight she got up a couple of times and limped down the aisle, hanging onto the seats for support.

The flight was uneventful. For the first half of the flight, I read my Kindle and when it started to get dark outside (my seat light wasn't positioned well for reading), I switched to an audio book. I am listening to an audio book by Harlan Coben and the woman sitting next to me was reading a different book by Coben.

At one point, when bringing the meal cart down the aisle (you buy your meal...don't even get free peanuts or pretzels, for pete's sake!), the plane jumped a bit and all the meals feel in the aisle. We all helped pick them up and then when the guy asked me what I wanted, I told him I would take the tossed salad (well, he thought it was funny).  Walt and I shared an Asian noodle salad, which was tasty.

When we arrived at Logan Airport, I sat in a chair while Walt went to the bathroom and as I watched here comes the "disabled" lady and her husband, no cane in sight, and walking briskly, each pulling a suitcase.  She walked better than I do, so I didn't feel guilty about going in the disabled line after that!

I don't know how late we were arriving in Boston, but at least half an hour.  But Jeri, Phil and Lester were here to greet us and now we are at their house.  Everyone has gone to sleep and I will soon join them.  I'm missing the Tums I should have packed because that Asian noodle salad is giving me heartburn.  I'll sleep it off.

She Doesn't Mess Around, Boy!

At this time yesterday, a Mediterranean cruise was the last thing I thought I would be doing in 2015.  By mid-afternoon today, we had a reservation and assigned stateroom.  Char and Mike, Linda and Bob and Walt and I will be in 3 staterooms one right after the other.  And since the price range we had figured we could afford was sold out, we have moved up to the next price range, which gives us 100 sq ft more and is entirely too luxurious for the likes of us, but I'm not complaining.

Linda had called to make a reservation and found out that the staterooms we hoped for were sold out so she sent a note around asking if we thought we could go one price higher.  Within the blink of an eye, Char had secured two rooms for them and us and Linda had reserved the next one for herself and Bob.

This will be our first time on a large ship (1000 passengers vs. 300 passengers), our first cruise on the ocean (staterooms come equipped with binoculars, which I thought was a fun addition!)  I wonder if it will be as casual as the river cruises will be ... can I show up to dinner in my t-shirt?

But it really is exciting.  I watched some of the videos today and can't wait to get to Barcelona and take the tour of the architecture of Gaudi.  I don't remember when I saw a PBS special on his architecture, but I thought at the time how wonderful it would be to see it in person, but dismissed it as a pipe dream.  Now it appears I actually will.

I really encourage you to watch  this 3 minute film, if you are unfamiliar with Gaudi's work. (It takes a bit of time to load; just wait for a few minutes.)

So I guess we're all set for our 2015 season...and we haven't even done our 2014 cruise yet!  Bob and Linda are doing the same cruise to Southern France that we are, but a couple of weeks before we do it.  I wish Walt's mother were still around.  She got so impatient with us for always traveling to England or Ireland and never going anywhere else.  I guess we have gotten past that little problem!

Today I had lunch with my mother.  I was going to do it yesterday, but she was asleep when I got to her apartment, so I left a note saying I would be there today.

I feel ... I dunno ... selfish, maybe? ... that I was so depressed by the time we spent together today.  She has lost the art of conversation.   I was pleased that I hadn't seen her in several days because I had lots to talk with her about ... there were my two hearing appointments, my crab lunch, lunch with Grainne and the others, reviewing Brigadoon, and working yesterday.  I tried to draw each incident out to make it sound interesting, and to fill more time and when I finished, she looked at me and said, without having made a comment on anything I'd said so far, "so what else have you been doing that's interesting?"

The thing about my mother that I noticed many years ago is that she can't let empty space stand.  Driving her to Santa Barbara, she would talk the whole way, finding little things to talk about if there was empty space.  That's 8 hours of talking.  So she hasn't lost the need to fill empty spaces by saying something, but she doesn't have anything to say any more.  She probably asked me two dozen times (at least) what exciting thing I had planned for the rest of the afternoon.

At lunch, she looked the menu over carefully and then decided on the same lunch she has every day -- vegetable soup and fruit salad.   Before the waitress arrived, she had to check the menu again so she could remember what she was going to order.  And then when the waitress came to take her order, she looked at the menu again because she couldn't remember what she had decided on.

This is all normal and I'm used to it by now because it pretty much is how we have lunch every time we get together.  But I wish I could talk to her again, and I can't.  I can, and she will respond, but there is no "communication" going on.  I notice that almost nobody comes to visit her any more.  Ed hasn't been there in a month and he used to visit her several tiems a week when she lived in Marin County -- but he's discovered what a long trip it was that I made for years.  All the family claim to love her a lot, but only one cousin visits regularly.  Her friends came once, months ago.  So if there is to be any socialization, since she won't leave her apartment to talk with anybody, it's all on me. And while I love her dearly, dear God I wish we could just once have a conversation again.  About anything.

The only thing we have that approaches "conversation" status is the temperature outside.  She doesn't leave the building and won't open her sliding glass door, so for her, if she can see any leaves moving on the trees, it's cool outside and if no leaves are moving, it's hot.  But if it's a hot day and I mention that it's 100 degrees out, she corrects me because she can see a leaf moving, so it must be cool.

Exciting things are coming up, though, because Jeri will be here to visit her in two weeks and Peach will be here the week after that.   She's good at faking it when new people are around, so it will be fun for me too because I won't have to carry the conversation.

Day 40:  Happiness is always the morning cup of coffee

Armchair Traveler

When we were preparing to go on our first Viking cruise, to Russia, I joined a Viking discussion group on Facebook and found Suellyn, who was also going on the same cruise.  We didn't actually "bond" with her on the trip--she was part of the popular crowd, the one with the big table, always laughing, always together.   But we did interact with her occasionally and since she and I and Char are all on Facebook, we have continued to interact now and then, sharing our experiences on other Viking cruises.

She's not with Viking this year.  She is taking my dream trip, a safari to Africa and Char and I are following her adventures through the reports that she posts each day on Facebook.  While I am eating these reports up, I am also realizing, sadly, that what Peggy told me when she came back from her trip to Africa a few years back was true--she didn't think my back would be able to deal with the rigors of the drives out to see the wildlife.

Suellyn writes...

Then the game drive. A worse road than yesterday, the worst yet. EVERYTHING is covered with dust, including me (I showered a little bit ago), my backpack, my nose and ears. It is everywhere! ...

...Let me tell you folks, this trip is rugged. Half the time I thought my teeth were coming out, and the rest of the time every bone in my body was being jostled. Unfortunately, I had the same driver as yesterday, Frank,and I think he learned to drive in Indianapolis!

But she is getting beautiful photos from the balcony of her hotel room.

(Imagine seeing something like that while standing in your shower washing your hair!)  As I read Suellyn's reports, and the similar reports of others, I realize that the time for me to be able to actually enjoy my dream trip has passed.  Now what I really want to do is sit on the balcony of Suellyn's hotel and watch the wild life come to me.

Over the past year, reading reports of the adventures of our friends Rick and Judith, who, it seems, have traveled everywhere, and reading books at Logos like "A Year in Province" and similar first person accounts of far away places and exciting adventures that both intrigue and exhaust me just thinking about it, I realize that my taste for adventure has diminished over the years.   I look at them, or at pictures of Walt's mother atop Machu Picchu and realize I couldn't make it to the bottom much less the top, even if I wanted to.

Today I picked up a book at Logos called "Wild Writing Women Stories of World Travel."  In the book I read about the road to Mandalay, a bus accident in Laos, rafting in Switzerland, haunted places in Scotland, adventures in India, etc. and though I love the writing, in my heart of hearts, I no longer see myself doing these fun things.  I've become an old poop.

I remember when our friend David went to see the mountain gorillas in Rwanda.  He said it was a magical experience, one I desperately wanted too, until I realized it involved hiking long distances to the mountains and then hiking long distances up the mountain and hoping to find a group.  Much as I would have loved that experience (if I could take the escalator up to the gorilla habitat), I enjoyed more watching the YouTube video of a band of gorillas who had a bonding experience with a man staying at a Rwanda hotel. (Do watch that video if you haven't seen it before...it's amazing)

I have enjoyed our last three cruises because there was so much "sitting on the boat" time, watching thevarious countries go by, and I know that the Ukraine trip will be fun -- I am especially looking forward to seeing the Cossack Horsemanship Show (since I missed the horse show in Budapest last time). But I hunger for fewer and fewer trips to strange venues. 

I am always tempted when Compassion is hosting a trip to see our sponsored children, but having followed several of these trips, I don't think I have the stamina for it and, remembering my experience in China, so eager to see the school children and finding them so afraid of big fat me, that I don't even let myself dream about traveling to Kenya or Uganda or the Philippines or any of the other countries where I have children for fear it will ruin the fragile friendships we have developed.

I will probably never see Venice, or the inland passage to Alaska, or take the train across the Canadian rockies, which I told Walt I wanted to do sometime when we were there on our honeymoon, or stay on our own in Florience to see what I missed when I was there the last time. But somehow that's OK now.

I'm sure I have missed out on a lot in my time by being out of shape and reluctant to take risks (zip lining?  No thank you!), but I do enjoy these adventures vicariously, when someone else takes them.

The next best thing to being there...without the heat, the dust, the bumpy roads, and the strange food.

Thank You, David Baldacci

It's 2 a.m.  I must be getting old.  I was exhausted and couldn't keep my eyes open at 9 p.m. last night, so decided to give up on Dancing with the Stars and to go to sleep and write this when I woke up.  I figured I would probably wake up around midnight, which I did, but decided to sleep a bit more and then write it.  So it's now 2 a.m. and here I am, bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to think back about our drive home yesterday, not that there is really anything interesting to report.

We were awake when Alice Nan left for work around 7 and said our goodbyes.  Joe left shortly after that.  We packed up all of our stuff (except, I learned after I got home, my sweater, which I will pick up at Christmas time) and we were on the road by about 9 a.m.

We were eager to get back to our audio book, "Hell's Corner," by David Baldacci.  When we last left the Camel Club, Reuben and Anabelle were in a gun battle and Reuben had just ordered Anabelle to to run in one direction to call for help while he went charging up a hill, facing an unknown number of men with automatic weapons, against his one pistol.  Anabelle was weeping at what she thought was the certain death of her friend.

If you need a book to keep you awake on a long voyage, Baldacci is a good author to choose (Michael Connelly is another), though not all of his books are terrific.  On our last trip we listened to something called "True Blue," which was so implausible it made my eyes roll a lot...but it did keep our attention.

"Hell's Corner" is peopled with so many characters and filled with so many situations, intrigues, twists and turns that it makes your head spin, but hurtles toward a conclusion that ties things together.   Unfortunately, we were 2 hours before the end of the book when we arrived home, so we still haven't reached that conclusion, but have found the book a very satisfying distraction to make the miles fly by.

One thing about Baldacci's books is it makes you shake your head at the total lack of cooperation and the territorialism between all the governmental spy agencies.  When a crime is committed, there are turf wars among the CIA, the FBI, the Department of Homeland Security, and other agencies...more than I realized we had.   That happens in book after book by anybody who writes about crimes, one department's reluctance to share information with another department...you find that in Connelly books, too, with one local police department fearing that another department will get the credit for catching the bad guys.  It always seems to me that crimes would get solved a heck of a lot faster without macho pissing contests between the heads of various agencies and more sharing of information for the good of everybody.

But what do I know?

Walt asked, after we got home last night, if I had been following the story, since it appeared to him that I slept most of the way home, but other than dozing off briefly a couple of times (apparently missing a key incident, though I figured out what had gone on shortly after waking), I was paying attention.  I have found that I do better as a passenger on these long rides if I ride with my eyes closed.   With my eyes opened, I'm terrified of every semi-truck we meet, and we meet hundreds of them.  My stomach is in knots and I tend to gasp audibly too often, and ride clutching the arm rest in sheer terror, though intellectually I know Walt is a good driver and that I am in good hands.  But if I ride with my eyes closed, I am blissfully unaware of the impending accident that my brain convinces me we are about to have every few miles.  Walt and I are both happier campers that way!

We stopped at Kettleman City for lunch.  Kettleman City, at least along side the freeway, is an oasis of familiar food joints (this is actually Kettleman City Junction, the regular town about 2 miles from here).   Take yer pick...McDonald's, Jack in the Box, Carls Jr, Taco Bell, Denny's, Wendy's and a few others sprinkled in among a few gas stations.

I have lately been feeling kind of "off" hamburgers, which is why we stopped for soup at Pea Soup Andersons on the drive down.   I was wondering how I could get around the ubiquitous burger on the ride home too. (When you aren't thrilled by salads and are tired of burgers, the choice is a bit more challenging!) We saw the sign for one small non-chain restaurant in among all the better known signs and decided to go there, but when we got there it had been closed.   Looked like something out of a ghost town.  So we decided to go to Denny's instead.  I figured I would have better non-burger choices there.

Denny's is doing a promo for the movie The Hobbit, which opens in theaters near you, and has a temporary menu inspired by that movie.   The food actually sounded sort of interesting.  Walt chose a "Hobbit Hole," which was an egg fried in the center of a cheese bread, with hash browns and bacon.  Kind of a cute idea.

For myself, my eyes lit on the "Gandalf Gobble," which was essentially Thanksgiving dinner in a sandwich -- roast turkey, stuffing, and cranberry mustard all served on pumpkin bread.  Never one to pass up the chance to try stuffing in any form, I went for that and was not disappointed, though I could only finish half of the sandwich.  I brought the other half home and had it for dinner, while Walt finished off a pasta casserole I had fixed before we left.

 It was good to be back home.  The dogs were thrilled to see us.  We caught up on Amazing Race and settled in to watch Dancing with the Stars when I realized I was falling asleep.

All in all, glad to be back home again after such a fun weekend in Santa Barbara.

Best of all, we received notice that Walt's cousin's grandson, Colin Willliam had made his arrival into the world to parents Kayleen and Sean.   Reports were that baby and parents were doing great, and that the grandparents were a mess.

Welcome, Colin!  You've joined a fantastic family and are going to have a great life!

Now I'm going to crawl back under a blanket somewhere and see if I can finish out the night asleep!

It's Clouds Illusions I recall

The car Walt rented is a Kia.

It has a boxy look I don't like.  And it's not very comfortable.  The seats feel like the kind you sit in on a short flight on a cheap airline.  Not plush like our Honda.  I was squirming a lot with pains in my back from not being able to get comfortable (though it was a little better when I was able to get my seat to recline a little).  It is not a car I would buy.

But it would do fine for our trip. We first spent 45 minutes wandering around the gated community where Alice Nan owns a unit.  I guess we own part of it now too, since she bought it with her mother, so when Alice died, Alice added 1/3 of her mother's interest and Walt and Norm each added 1/3.  So we own 1/3 of a half and that makes us the local caretakers.  They are trying to rent it and Walt just had to drop off a key, but it took 45 minutes to find someone to give it to.

Then it was on the freeway headed south.  The clouds were just glorious 

 I was fascinated by how the clouds were reflected in the side mirror and on the door of the car.

(I'm easily amused when we travel!)

We were listening to a David Baldacci book ("Hell's Corner") which is, as usual, gripping.  It pretty much eliminated all need for conversation.  Walt drove, I took care of checking e-mail and text messages on our respective cell phones.

 We stopped in Santa Nella at Pea Soup Anderson's, to have some of their "traveler's special."  It goes without saying that their specialty is pea soup.  The traveler's special is a big bowl of soup (which they will refill as much as you want) with toppings (little cups of diced ham, scallions, grated cheese, bacon (real bacon) and croutons, served with cheese rolls and your choice of beverage (one of the beverage choices is a milk shake).

To tell the truth, I'm kind of "burger-ed out" and so I was happy that we were traveling on I-5 and not 101, where we probably would have stopped at the Burger Queen.  I was much happier with my bowl of soup.

(Walt had a refill on his soup).

 

(I'm sorry I forgot to take the picture until after I had stirred in all the toppings)

We continued on down the road, texting the family in Santa Barbara to let them know our whereabouts (I loved my text to Tom and Joe:  "Peeing at the Madonna Inn."  The Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo bills itself as the "Landmark Resort Hotel."  We have never stayed there, but we have peed there, and...trust me...it's truly a never to be forgotten bathroom experience.  I strongly encourage you to do a Google Photo search on Madonna Inn and you'll get an idea of what I mean! And check out some of those ROOMS.)

We pulled up to Alice & Joe's house in the middle of a Baldacci gun battle, just 1 minute before Joe got home from work, so we couldn't sit in the car and continue listening.  We'll have to try to find time to play a bit more of the book while we're chasing around to various points in Santa Barbara to watch Tom and Laurel run in their marathon so we can find out if Reuben was shot or not.

St. Ursula

I always wonder, on quiet days like this, what I am going to write about when it comes time to put this journal entry together.  Today I resort to Catholic mythology.  Or Christian mythology.  Or German mythology.

Let me explain.

Walt found a PBS travel program of tour guide Bert Wolf (kind of a richer version of Rick Steeve).  He was taking a river cruise from Amsterdam to ... I can't remember where his ending destination was, but he was in Amsterdam last week and today in Cologne.  I missed the Amsterdam program,but watched the one on Cologne.

At first it was kind of your standard travelguide, and it was fun to see the interior of the magnificent Cologne cathedral again.

But then he visited another cathedral in Cologne, one that we hadn't heard about, and here is where it started to get weird.  As he toured the place with a priest guide, Wolf explained that St. Ursula and 11,000 virgins were slaughtered on this site by Huns some time in the 4th century.  The church is full of memorials to the martyrs.  Since the women supposedly were all beheaded there are lots of female busts on altars.  The tops of the busts are removable and inside are skulls supposedly found on the site, wrapped in cloth from medieval times.  In the basement the walls are filled with designs made out of bones, and even sayings written in bone.

Very creepy.

But the story gets better, and oh so Catholic, when I went to the Internet to check out St. Ursula.  The legend is apparently based on an inscription on the Church of St. Ursula in Cologne, built in the 4th or 5th century where it said that on this site "some holy virgins" were killed.

The number is supposedly closer to 2-11 virgins martyred, rather than 11,000.  The number 11,000 didn't come up until the 9th century. and may have been based on a mis-translation of the name Unidecimilla, a person, to mean 11,000, a number.   In fact, some speculate that there was one virgin martyr named Unidecimilla, a girl of about 11 years of age "which by some blundering monk was changed into eleven thousand."

And you thought spell check is bad TODAY!

The basilica of St. Ursula, which I am very sorry now to have missed, supposedly contains the ancient relics of the perhaps fictitious Ursula and her possibly nonexistant 11,000 companions.

I loved this quote:

[The basilica] contains what has been described as a "veritable tsunami of ribs, shoulder blades, and femurs...arranged in zigzags and swirls and even in the shapes of Latin words." The Goldene Kammer (Golden Chamber), a 17th century chapel attached to the Basilica of St. Ursula, contains sculptures of their heads and torsos, some of the heads encased in silver, others covered with stuff of gold and caps of cloth of gold and velvet; loose bones thickly texture the upper walls." The peculiarities of the relics themselves have thrown doubt upon the historicity of Ursula and her 11,000 maidens. When skeletons of little children, ranging in age from two months to seven years, were found buried with one of the sacred virgins in 1183, Hermann Joseph, a  Praemonstratensian canon at Steinfeld, explained that these children were distant relatives of the eleven thousand. A surgeon of eminence was once banished from Cologne for suggesting that, among the collection of bones which are said to pertain to the heads, there were several belonging to full-grown mastiffs. The relics may have come from a forgotten burial ground.

Whether Ursula and her 11,000 friends lived or not, whether they were slaughtered or not, the whole story is just so catholic, it seems, the delight in raising body parts to the status of holy relics and worshipping at the feet...perhaps literally...of people who may or may not have been the superheroes of their day. 

Can you imagine this appearing as a story in some tabloid newspaper, along with Bat Boy, alien abductions. and that story of the crazy town where you can be given a ticket for snoring in your own bed?

---

Today was the Big Game, Cal-Stanford (for those who don't know what "the Big Game" is), as well as the 30th anniversary of "The Play."  As for how the game went...let's just say there was no joy in Mudville this afternoon.

A Day of Not Much

Walt left for work at the crack of dawn, driving with co-workers (you know...from that office from which he retired several years ago).  I decided to spend the day working on more photos for Flickr.

As you can see, I made great progress, adding four more stops along the river.  The Nuremberg folder alone has 70 photos in it.  And these are just the ones I thought were GOOD.  There are a lot that didn't get chosen to go to Flickr.

But it's a lengthy process what with choosing them, editing some of them (there are two in particular that I worked on a long time, one deleting a person who got in the way and the other ... well, let's just say that I put two photos together and I'll bet you can't figure out which photo it is!).  It brought back nice memories of the trip and a longing to get back on the ship for some more of those gourmet meals!

One thing I was able to do today that I wasn't able to do when posting journal entries on the ship was to add photos of the Wurtzburg Residenz, built in the early 1800s as the home of the "prince bishops" appointed by the pope, until the people rose up and, if I remember rightly, killed one of them.

The Residenz is breathtakingly gorgeous, perhaps my favorite of all the buildings we toured...but cameras were not allowed, so I had to make do with postcards, which I could scan for Flickr.  The grand entrance alone takes your breath away and you can hear the collective groans of visitors with cameras as they get their first glimpse.

The Gold room was spectacular...

...but a bit too ornate for my tastes.  However, I absolutely loved this room.

(If I remember correctly the souvenir shop is behind the door on the right).  What I loved about this room was that it was so over the top, but everything was so equisite in detail.  If you look at the swirly things on the ceiling, the left and the right, that looks like they are maybe dirty because they are darker.  When you are there they look like swaths of patterned fabric draped decoratively behind the plaster.  But actually the fabric, too, is plaster.  There were so many just delightful touches in this room that I would love to have taken pictures of.   They need much more detailed postcards!

So anyway, other than taking a shower, getting dinner put in the crock pot, and taking some time to watch the season finale of Rizzolli and Isles, all I did today was work on photos.  But it was fun.  I'm really close to the end of the Flickr posting.  It will be nice to come to the end of the trip.   Again.

The Zen of Airplane Travel

I remember when airplane travel used to be fun. You'd get all dressed up to get on a plane. Your friends and family would walk you to the gate and stand there waving as your plane backed out of its slot and headed off to the runway. You would sit in comfortable seats with room for your legs. The stewardesses (they were always young, pretty women dressed in spiffy uniforms) would bring you meals with real plates and real silverware. The aisles were wide enough that you could get up and walk around and visit with other passengers.

Those times seem as far away as the Victorian era.

I now just plan for travel days to be terrible and try to get into some sort of a zen-like state about it, so that nothing really bothers me.  If things go well, I'm pleased.  If they don't, I just keep reading my book and hope that it will all eventually turn out all right.

Our day started early.  Walt and Jeri took Lester out for her walk while I finished packing.  Walt wanted to go to the airport by public transport, but I did not.  Jeri couldn't drive us because she had class.  Walt didn't want to take a cab because he was worried that one might not show up.  So we compromised with Jeri driving us to a stop near her house where there are always cabs.  We went to the airport very early, but our driver was great and got us there in record time, for slightly less money than Jeri had guesstimated.

It was about 9:30 when we arrived, for our 2 p.m. flight.  We stopped at Dunkin' Donuts for a snack, then went and sat in the airport rockers for awhile, watching the planes come and go and listening to a salesman in the rocker to my left making cold calls to his customers.

After awhile, the wooden seats got to be very hard on my butt, so we moved to our gate, to the soft seats, where we only had 2 hours to wait for our plane.   I took advantage of the time to buy some Boston postcards, since I now collect postcards from everywhere to send off to all those hundreds of post-card collectors I encounter around the world!

With all the stuff we had done this weekend, we forgot to check in on-line to Southwest, which has open seating and you board the plane by the number you are assigned at check-in.  People with the A numbers (1-60) board first followed by the B people and then the C people.  You don't want to be a C person.  Those are the unhappy looking people in the middle seats.

Unfortunately, we were C people and I was resigned to making people in the aisle and window seats angry because they had to deal with my bulk.  However, I managed to find a great window seat next to a Chinese family who had the world's best baby.  That little 11 month old girl slept in her father's arms for nearly 5 hours.  She was awake about an hour and just smiled and looked around, ate a little, drank her bottle and went back to sleep. 

Walt, on the other hand, was stuck in a middle seat next to a guy who was 6'2" and didn't fit in the tiny Southwest seats so kind of slopped over into Walt's area.

The first leg of our flight was to Phoenix, about 5 hours.  It was 110 degrees when we arrived and once again I was happy I didn't live in Phoenix.

We had two hours before our connecting flight to Sacramento, so we stopped at one of the airport restaurants, Barrio Sky Cafe, for dinner.  I had fabulous tacos de camarones (shrimp tacos)

And then it was time for the last leg.  We were in the B group this time, so anticipated getting the seats we wanted, which we did...both aisle seats across the aisle from each other.  The plane was loaded and we settled in for the takeoff when an announcement came that there was a part malfunction and that they hoped that it could be fixed within 20 minutes.  Twenty minutes passed, during which time I was happy that I had my fan from China with me.  The a/c was on, but 110 is a hard temp to cool down when you can't run your big motors.

Finally after about 25 minutes we were told that they would have to unload the plane and get a new one.  We all groaned.  I envisioned a huge mess getting back on the plane again and was resigned to losing our good seats, but I have to hand it to Southwest.  The re-board went uneventfully and we got the same seats (with different seat mates this time)

The flight home was uneventful, even though we arrived half an hour later than anticipated.  As we were leaving the Sacramento airport I discovered....rocking chairs.   Apparently our new building also comes with rocking chairs.  I guess that's the new "in" thing for airports.

Our dog sitter had apparently not received my text about feeding the dogs dinner, so they were THRILLED to see us when we got home at 11, and so happy they even inhaled a bowl of kibble without cottage cheese added.  I was so tired I couldn't even think about writing this entry and was going to settle into my recliner, but the dogs would have none of it, so I went to the couch, was asleep in seconds and slept through until 5 a.m. this morning.  I think I have finally shaken off any residual jet lag from Europe!

Back in the Air

Just because we haven't been in an airplane for...oh...days...Walt and I decided to fly to Boston.

Actually, that's not true.  It was a planned trip.  Jeri has done the orchestration for a new musical called Paragon Park, and since this is not an accomplishment we can hang on the refrigerator door, we figured we'd best come to Boston and see it for ourselves.  We were lucky to get tickets.  They sold out before the show opened.

So once again we loaded our suitcases with a lot of the same stuff we had just taken out of them two days ago, got the house ready for the dog sitter, packed up the car, and headed to the airport.

We got to the airport and made it through security, which is about when I discovered that I had spilled breakfast or something on my shirt and it looked like I had pulled it out of the bottom of the laundry bag and let the dogs walk over it before I put it on.  I was mortified.  So I ducked into the ladies room and changed it for my ever-present Jello shirt, so I could at least look respectable in the airport.

We had time for lunch, so picked up a cheeseburger at Burgers and Brew.  Mine came with onion rings.

Our Southwest flight flew first to Phoenix where stepping off the air conditioned plane and into the walkway to the airport was like stepping into a sauna.  My friend Jeri (Jeri's godmother) lives in a mobile home park based outside of Phoenix.  I don't know how she does it.  It was all I could do to trudge to the air conditioned airport.  I think they said that the temperature was 110.

We got to our gate for the connecting flight to Boston, which had been delayed an hour, and found the last two seats available in the waiting area.  Suddenly I swear 100 more people crowded into the gate area.  I don't know where they came from, but pretty soon Southwest announced the people from our plane should move across the hall to another gate.

Both of the flights were full and the second, longer flight came with no food service, so Walt picked up a couple of sandwiches and a fruit salad for us to take on the plane.

The second plane was really cool because all the over head compartments had been decorated by kids.

 

I never did get the story why, but I thought it was fun.

At some point they brought around snacks, a big box filled with crackers, cookies, peanuts, and pretzels.  It was dinnertime and I guess that this was supposed to hold us until midnight when we arrived in Boston.  Fortunately we had our sandwiches.  The kids in front of us had pizza.

The flight seemed so long.  My legs got very restless and I had to squeeze down the aisles to the bathroom area, where I chatted with a nice flight attendant for awhile (I wish I had remembered to ask her about the overhead compartments).  But I listened to about 3 hours of my Diana Gabaldon book.  This is an 8 file book and I am working through file 5, so this helped a lot!

We arrived at Logan at midnight and as we were leaving the gate area (the only people left in this section of the airport), I had to stop and take a picture of Walt in the rocking chairs that are set up to watch the planes arrive and depart.

 

Something I might expect to find in So. Carolina or Georgia, but not Boston.  I liked it!

Jeri picked us up and brought us home.  It was midnight here, so only 9 p.m. California time, but we were all exhausted and went to bed immediately.  I managed to sleep through to 6:45 Boston time and am how writing this with two lovely fans blowing on me and the faithful dog, Lester (who used to be Tot when I was bottlefeeding her) lying in the hall, looking at me, her tail wagging steadily.

 

I am on Jeri & Phil's wifi network just fine and I'm all set up to design this page, but Firefox has gone nutso on me and I am going to have to reboot the computer to see if I can fix it.  With this laptop, I'm never sure how that is going to work....

Tonight we see Paragon Park.  I am very eager to do so!

The Wrap-Up

Once again, I have gone to sleep too early and awakened around midnight.  I lay there on the couch trying to get back to sleep, remembering that I did not do my entry for today yet.  I started thinking back over the trip and thinking of all the wonderful things about it, and the few things I wish were better and I decided to do a wrap up.

First of all, I think it would be difficult to travel with anybody but Viking.  We have been so spoiled on all three of our trips.  The crew takes care of literally everything from the time you land in the country until they leave you at the airline counter to return to your own country.  

I love being welcomed aboard ship with a hot (or cool) towel, a cup of hot chocolate, a glass of juice or some other little surprise.  You are made to feel special from the very beginning.

All the wait staff, in the dining room and in the lounge, make an effort to learn who you are and what your preferences were.  I think Walt's eggs benedict order was placed the minute our waiter Milos saw him walk into the dining room. 

(We sat at the table almost to the very back of the room)

The variety of food was very good and at breakfast and lunch, you could order your meal from your waiter, or you could go to the buffet...or both (get pancakes or eggs benedict from the waiter and sausage, fruit, and cereal from the buffet).

The Viking Freya is one of I think four "long boats" added to Viking's fleet this year.  It was a lovely boat, but sometimes it seemed a long "longer" than I wanted to handle, as we were in the second to last cabin.

Viking offered a variety of educational and entertainment opportunities, from the wonderful concert in Vienna to the apple strudel demonstration on the ship and everything in between.  There was a nice balance of fun and "lecture," like Henrietta's costumed lecture on Mozart, a talk on the waterway through which we were traveling, and a very user-friendly lecture on the European union.   I overheard a woman from Texas talking about our evening of light operatic music, saying "I don't usually listen to music like that, but I thought it was real purdy."

My complaints about Viking are so few as to be laughable.  My principal complaint was that while there is always someone, lunch or dinner, with a bottle of red and a bottle of white wine in hand ready to refill a glass the instant the level starts to look low, there is less attention paid to those of us who prefer water and it was a constant struggle at each meal to get a second glass of water.  I got testy one day and ordered a beer and grumbled to our waiter that it was easier to get a beer than a glass of water.  An indication of how much Viking cares about its passengers was that after that, they really seemed to be trying to keep my water glass filled.  One waiter (Vess) seemed to always be at my elbow saying "I know you like to drink water." I appreciated his attention.  Another waitress (Rose) saw me sitting alone at the Taste of Germany lunch and made a special effort to come and ask me if I needed any water.  I almost felt guilty for being so grumpy before.

I also was disappointed in the in-room entertainment.  While you don't take a cruise like this to watch TV or movies, the video system was terrible.   Sometimes you couldn't get any station, sometimes you would choose one station and another one would be the only option.  Often the picture froze.  When it was working, it was very good, but ultimately during alone-times in the room, I would read instead.  

The biggest video disappointment was not being able to watch the Olympics opening ceremonies, which we had been promised we could do in the lounge.   After a long time, they finally got the video working, but could never get the sound.  I was surprised that they had not tested it out ahead of time.  One guy stood for about 10 minutes at the screen, with a remote in hand just looking at it, as if trying to figure out what else to try. I was wishing my son, the video guru, had been along for the evening!

This trip was quite different from Russia and China.  In Russia we were seeing it from the "back side," meaning that almost every place we visited was tiny and unique and not a place you would be likely to drive to if you visited the country.  In China, we spent as much time flying as sailing and stayed in hotels as much (if not more) than we stayed on the ship, so we were seeing it from a different perspective.

On this cruise, we were sailing on the rivers and visiting the old parts of major cities (like Vienna and Cologne).  There was always the sense of wanting more.  Not nearly enough time in Vienna, for example.  But I looked on this cruise as kind of a catalog of neat places to see with the idea to go back on our own later for a more leisurely time.  I enjoyed the actual sailing part as much as the land excursions.

In China we had the same guide from the time we arrived in Shanghai until we left Hong Kong.  On this cruise we had a different guide for every excursion.  Some were great (especially Erwen in Cologne), most kept a pace that I could follow.  The only time I was left in the dust was at Kinderdijk where the guide was so far ahead of me within minutes that there was no way I could hope to catch up, but it was the kind of place where one could drop out and explore independently.

We have become very spoiled.  Viking takes such good care of us and offers such a variety of experiences that it's almost scary to think about going with another company.  We are running out of places to tour with Viking but there are still at least three other tours that I would like to take...by then we'll probably be too old to cruise anyway!

What Time Is It?

Well, if you want to know, it's 2:30 a.m. where my physical body is located.  Not sure where my brain is at present. We arrived home at 4:45 yesterday afternoon, sat down to watch Beaverbrook at 6, and I was asleep before 15 minutes had passed (not a review of the video itself!).  I don't know why.  We had only been awake for about 20 hours.  I moved to the couch at some point, thrilling the dogs, and was awake after 6 hours (confusing the dogs), which puts me in the middle of the Pacific Time Zone.  But it's going to be a couple of days before body time zone and actual time zone are in sync, I suspect.

Toward the end of yesterday's entry, I said "So my trip tale is done (except, of course, for whatever disasters befall us on the trip home tomorrow!)." 

 

Prophetic words!

The day started at 3 a.m. with a call from my buddy Gabor, the night guy at the front desk of the Viking Freya, with whom I had a waving relationship every night when I trudged to/from the ship computer at 2 a.m.  By 3:30 our bags were out and at a bit before 4 we were in the front with Branislav waiting for the taxi driver.  To our delight, Kitch came down to say goodbye one more time.  He and Joyce became such great trip friends and I hope that we continue to stay in contact.

The cab arrived and we trudged out to the van and said goodbye to the Viking Freya.  The cab driver gave us a quick driving tour of Amsterdam...hard to see much of anything except the red lights on the windows of the red light district, where even the prostitutes had closed their curtains and were (presumably) sleeping.

Branislav helped us with checking in and then left us standing in a long line to check our baggage. Our latest Viking relationship had officially ended. I couldn't believe how many people were waiting and how Lufthansa had ONE clerk to check us all in!

Eventually we were checked in and walked, I swear, a mile to our gate.  Half a mile at least before we found a moving walkway. But we arrived early, as the sun was rising over our plane in Amsterdam.

Mike went off in search of water, Char and Walt amused themselves with their electronic toys.

We had fairly good seats.  Mike and Char were in row 82, each on the aisle, Char on the side and Mike in the center.  Walt and I were in row 83, with Walt on the side aisle and me on the center aisle.  There are 4 seats in the center and there were only two other seats filled and the woman and I on either side of the empty seat were thrilled and, as they announced that the plane was all loaded, we began to unload our floor crap into the empty seat.

That's when the flight attendant came around to ask if we would be willing to move to allow a father and his son, who were in separate seats, to sit together.  The couple did not, but when the attendant talked with me and Walt, we agreed.  She promised Walt a nice other seat--even a window seat, and they would be "very nice" to him.  So I moved over into his seat and he moved up to the window seat.  The father and son moved into the better seats.  I ended up sitting next to a young girl and her brother (her parents sat next to Char).

The boy got up about once an hour to stagger to the bathroom and two times he vomited into a bag and a third time almost did.  I'd just get started listening to something or eating a meal or something and the damn kid would have to get up again.  One time I was listening to my iPad and he nearly ripped the earphones out of my ears.  He seemed like a nice boy, maybe 8-10 years old, and his sister was obviously devoted to him.  Except for getting up and down like a yoyo, they were nice kids, but by the end of 10 hours I hated them both.

As for Walt's special window seat, it was over the wing so he had a view of nothing.  They gave him a glass of cognac and an overnight kit (toothbrush and a zippered pouch)

The father and son who had the good seats didn't acknowledge that we'd rearranged ourselves for him and even pushed me in annoyance at the end of the flight when I didn't move fast enough for him.

The plane sat on the ground in Amsterdam for about an hour, by which time we knew that there was zero chance of our making our connecting flight in Frankfurt. They never did say why we were delayed, but I'm guessing it had something to do with Frankfurt weather because as it turned out, the plane out of Frankfurt was delayed so long that we were able to make it after all, despite the next mile walk to the moving walkway and half mile to the plane...moving walkways here, but they were not working.  I was missing the contraptions we had on our ship excursions where our guide gave us descriptions of what we were seeing along the way.

This Luftansa flight was SO MUCH more pleasant than the United Flight we had coming over.  The food was much better, the service was great (we got big chocolate bars at some point and regular distribution of glasses of water or juice).  There was also an in-seat TV screen, so lots of viewing options.  Unfortunately none of them was particularly interesting to me.  I DID watch The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (good, but not as good as I hoped) and every nature special but then I just listened to Diana Gabaldon's book on my iPad.  Couldn't sleep.

Coming into San Francisco we were able to watch the plane from various cameras.  We could see a cartoon-like picture as we got close to the city.

and then the actual shadow of the plane on the water of San Francisco Bay as we approached the airport.

We had finally arrived and it was a welcoming sight to see fog on the hills by the airport from the camera mounted to show the plane's nose:

We thought for awhile that our luggage had not arrived, but it finally did.  We loaded up the car and drove Mike and Char home.  I still hadn't slept, but Walt did a bit on the plane, so he drove home while I napped.

We were met by very happy dogs and I climbed gratefully into my recliner to be comfortable in a chair for the first time in 3 weeks.  Tomorrow I am going to write an overview of the trip, what was good, what could have stood some improvements.  But for now I have laundry to do and souvenirs to sort out.

But just so I end this entry, like all the others, with a picture of our dinner...

I think our vacation is definitely over.

Milos, I miss you!

Holland-Days

I knew we had left Germany and were sailing through the Netherlands when I saw the first field of contented cows.

No castles, no half-timbered houses, no ancient walls, just some nice, friendly looking cows taking in the morning mist and eating their breakfast.

It was definitely a leisurely day. Everybody has to be out of their cabins by 9 a.m. tomorrow, so everyone has to pack tonight. We have the better part, I guess, since we have to leave the ship at 4 a.m., before anybody else, so we don't have to worry about what to do while waiting for a van or bus to arrive. The four of us are the only ones leaving that early. Kitch and Joyce leave an hour after we do, but won't be going to the airport with us.

So there wasn't a lot of formal activity planned. We did have a tasting of some Jenever, which is some gin-like drink, but much stronger. I didn't drink mine. Walt did and tried to put a Russian panache on it.

We also tasted Gouda, which I grew up pronouncing "goo-dah" but today learned it is actually pronounced "GOW-dah."

It didn't seem possible it was already time for lunch, but it was. We had a nice lunch and began to realize that we only had one more meal with our wonderful waiters.

(Alexander is actually the maitre d' and a wonderful guy)

We missed the shuffleboard game, but did get in to the lecture on windmills and polders. I think my brain is on information overload. I heard the lecture and still don't have a clue what polders are!

We got to Kinderdijk an hour early and the gift shop was right there, so Walt and I (and a lot of others) went off exploring on our own.

(no, we did not buy wooden shoes!)

On the way back, we saw Kitch and Joyce on the balcony of their stateroom, which is exactly above ours.

Eventually the tour to the windmills began and lemme tell you, if Erwen yesterday was leisurely, Henrietta today was Speed Racer. There was absolutely no way I could keep up with the group--for the first time. Walt had rushed off in search of Mike and some nice girl decided to walk with me to keep me company, but I didn't want to drag her down, so I just gave up and took some windmill pictures from where I already was.

That turned out to be a good decision because some folks from our ship passed me and told me that when we left the store earlier in the day. Walt had forgotten to take the postcards we bought, so instead of going closer to the windmills, I doubled back and got the postcards.

We were all taking pictures, of course. This may be my favorite picture of the trip--definitely of today.

During the cocktail hour, there was a formal farewell from the staff.

By this time tomorrow night we will be on a plane and these guys will be welcoming another 191 passengers aboard the Viking Freya to make the return trip to BudaPest.

Our last dinner was just as good as all the others before it, except for the amuse bush...

I'm guessing I'm not the only one who doesn't like mussels since Walt seemed to get most of them, but my Amsterdam cheese souffle was delicious, as was the roast chicken drumstick and pork rib. Dessert was a very rich, but delicious pot de creme, with a pineapple mint salsa, which was a little odd, but tasted good.

So my trip tale is done (except, of course, for whatever disasters befall us on the trip home tomorrow!). Now to pack up the computer and all the electronic gear, and hope that maybe I can get on the computer upstairs earlier than 1 a.m. so that I might get at least a couple of hours sleep before we have to leave!

See ya from California, I hope, tomorrow night. For those in the Bay Area, try to catch Beaverbrook on KQED at, I believe, 9 p.m. It is a film made by our friend Matt Callahan and it will transport you back to the days of your youth...and you'll love it! It has won several film festival awards.