The Buttocks of a Dog!

Magnificent Mila displays her supple, shapely hindquarters.

Mila, the world's best dog, loves to assume this position. It reminds me of my favorite exclamatory imprecation, an old middle-eastern gem: "The buttocks of a dog!" As in: "The buttocks of a dog! That was a nasty spill you took." (Second favorite: "Dung of all the Saints!")

Mila's calm nobility takes the sting out of such a biased epithet.

Obligatory Grandparent Post.

Cutest. Grandchild. Ever. (Since the last one.)

Sure you're skeptical, but we have proof:


See more of Luciya's adventures here.

On the Road Again. (Going Places That We've Never Been.)

We decided that the road to Boise through Winnemucca was too flat and boring, so we would take a route we'd never taken before through Redding, then out 299 through northeastern California and southeastern Oregon. Also, we both wanted to gaze again on Mt. Shasta where we had done a vision fast several years before.

Miles before we reached Redding, we could see the snow-capped peak of Lassen off to our left and the volcanic mass of Shasta slowly rising above the ruck of foothills ahead of us. We stopped at Burney for the night where we were once again tricked into ordering incredibly bad pie, this time strawberry/rhubarb. When it was placed before us, neon-pink and quivering, we knew our pie karma had somehow been irreparably damaged. It tasted even worse than it looked.

The next day, we hit the road early for the long drive to Boise. The highway wound through viridescent pastures etched by the extravagant loops of slow, glittering streams, all dominated by the cloud-white cones of the two volcanoes. We were very glad that we had taken the road least traveled.

Shasta dwarfs the smaller foothills around it.

Lassen and Shasta, California's two majestic volcanoes.

We ate our salami and cheese at a park in Burns, Oregon with a crusty baguette of Acme sourdough, then continued on to Boise, pausing only for a frosty cone at the Dairy Queen in Vale. Is there anything more satisfying to the inner child than a frosty on a hot summer day?

We arrived at John and Emily's just after 5:00 local time. John made excellent margaritas and grilled chicken and flank steak. Emily and Michael made us happy with their presence. And our darling Luciya made us laugh with her constant "Hi, Gampa!""Hi, Gams!"

Meet Suspicious Spice--the Latest Spice Boy!

As we were hurtling toward Boise, our son John was supposed to be hurtling on a plane from LAX to meet us. He had been attending our granddaughter's high school graduation in San Gabriel. Yes, Eryn has graduated from high school! But John missed his flight--suspicion of carrying contraband!

A little background: when we packed up all our belongings to take off on our adventures, we had a whole cupboard of spices to dispose of. Most we gave to Teresa and Matthew, but they had limited space and we were loathe to just throw them away, so we offered them to John. Unfortunately our car was already so jammed with John's stuff that we had no room for two large grocery bags of spices, so T. offered to take them to her dad's house, so John could take them home.

Well the TSA had other plans for our tattooed love boy and his suspicious spice stash.

And by the time they had finished sniffing and poking and probing, our lad had missed his flight.

I ask you, is this a suspicious face?

Suspicious Spice shows off a small sample of his spicy swag.

Saying Goodbye (Temporarily) to San Francisco.

We lived here for almost 20 years. We have roots: family, dear friends, favorite places, favorite dishes. So saying a temporary farewell to all of that in a mere ten days hasn't been easy. We started at Peter's sister's house, where we ate and drank and talked and laughed for many pleasant hours. Catherine and her husband David cooked us several excellent meals. While they were working Ophelia lunched with several of her girl friends and I revisited favorite SF haunts.

Though O. and I have been lucky enough to have dined at many of the the world's best restaurants, we find that the dishes that call us back again and again are usually simple, flavorful peasant fare. For me, no trip to SF is complete without a visit to Brandy Ho's in Chinatown for their smoked ham with whole cloves of garlic. I love Hunan food and Brandy does it very well. They smoke their on ham--very smoky, but the texture and flavor of the pork comes through, then flash-fry it at extremely high heat with whole cloves of garlic, chunks of still-crisp onion, bamboo shoots, green onion, and plenty of red pepper. Oh, I have missed it so.

Other longed-for tastes that I was able to revisit this trip include: lightly breaded eggplant sandwich on the world's best focaccia at Mario's Bohemian Cigar Store Cafe in North Beach, the curry chicken over rice lunch special at Hunan Taste in San Jose, and the juicy, flavorful cheeseburger studded with onions on crusty sourdough at Original Joe's in Westlake where we spent a convivial evening with our friends Doug and Amy and Amy's dog, Roxie. Original Joe's is a wonderful throwback to the fifties--waiter and busboys in tuxedoes, old-school cocktails in individual shakers, tuck-and-roll naugahyde, and formica throughout. Always jammed, never-changing.

Roxie is an exceptionally well-behaved poodle. Amy carried her into the restaurant in a mesh gym bag, which Roxie entered without complaint. Not a peep from the dog during the entire meal! She was just happy to be with us.

Next, we stayed with our dear friends Aston and Eileen. More drinking and eating and laughing. They are originally from Bombay and they cooked us several deleriously delicious Indian meals of what seemed like at least ten courses each. Bertha, Eileen's mother, lives with them and does much of the cooking. By the time we left, we had probably gained several pounds.

We also visited our friends Beth and Howard at their beautiful flat near the Presidio. After a refreshing lunch, we walked to Baker's Beach and into the second sandstorm of our trip. The wind was fierce, and had sand in our hair and teeth within a few seconds, but the views of the white-capped sea, the mist-veiled Marin headlands, and the Golden Gate Bridge were worth it. On the way back from the beach, O. slipped and fell. Didn't seem like much at the time, but the next day her shoulder was very sore and we couldn't figure out why until Eileen reminded us of the fall. Duh.


Before the Fall. O. and Beth enjoy a sandy stroll. WARNING: Seriously annoying wind noise. Adjust your settings before playing.

Our last night in the Bay Area we spent with our friends Steve and Michele. They just got back from three weeks in China where they had attended a cooking school. Check out their blog about their trip here. What a Chinese feast they cooked for us! The next day they took us to their favorite Shanghai dumpling place for XLBs. It was our first tasting of these lovely little treats, which have recently attained cult status among lovers of Chinese cuisine. Check out this link for details.
After lunch, we visited Oliveto's in Oakland to buy various salamis and cheeses so that we could picnic the following day on the long drive to Boise. And then we pointed the GPS system for Redding and headed north.

Thanks to all those who offered us such lovely hospitality and companionship on our (Temporary) Farewell Tour. We love you all very much and will miss you fiercely in the months ahead.

Marmots and Tourists and Bears, Oh My!

We climb the east side of the Sierra, over Tioga pass, and look down on the stunning vista of Yosemite Valley.




We saw a usually secretive marmot standing on his hind legs at the side of the road, watching the cars whiz by.
The viewpoints are packed with tourists, very different from the mostly deserted parks we've been through up to now. And there are bears!

The ranger told us that this year-and-a-half old cub's mother was killed by a car. Now we feel bad about speeding bear jokes. Luckily the cub is old enough to survive on her own.

Lots of water in the valley. After a dry winter, the spring snowpack finally reached normal levels, but an unseasonably hot May hastened the melt, so peak water is already past. Still, everything is intensely green, especially compared to the desert parks. The air intoxicatingly sweet and fresh.

Now we're off to the Bay Area for a week of eating and drinking and laughing with friends and family. Probably not much blogging for a while. Toodle-oo!

Why, Oh Why Do They Do It?

Sure we have the right to arm them, but whose idea was it to let them drive?

In Which We Narrowly Escape Alien Abduction (Of Course We'd Say That, Wouldn't We?).

On our way through the empty desert of Nevada. Three perfectly normal signs by the roadside, but one is vibrating wildly. And then we see the cluster of abandoned cars:
A little odd, we thought, but then there was this:

We were entering the vortex near the dreaded Area 51! The highway was empty for miles in both directions. Had everyone been abducted? Could we avoid the Grays and their inevitable anal probes?

Nope.

But escape we did, tearing down the empty highway like bats out of hell, followed by lights in the sky:

We realized that it wasn't just us in jeopardy. The cows too were targeted for mutilation or worse. Even the highway signs show them starting back in terror from an unseen, but implied, alien presence:

Keeping a wary eye on the skies, we pulled off the road for a nervous lunch. We were beginning to relax when an alien craft swooped right over the car, not more than 100 feet up! it banked hard right in front of us, totally silent, then sped off between the buttes!

It wasn't until the blaring roar of its engines caught up to us a second later that we recognized it as an F-15. The government was providing us with aircover from the lurking UFOs.

Gratefully, we resumed our journey, a little shaken, but with growing confidence that we had escaped abduction.

And then we saw them:

CLOOOOWWWWWNS!!!
(Click picture to experience the full horror.)

Again we hightailed it down the highway, seeking now the shelter of the Sierra, the comfort of California. And as we crossed the state line we could feel our hackles reset and the hair on the back of our necks go limp. Even the cows had returned to their usual comforting placidity:


Still shaken by our narrow escape, we stumbled in to a funky (good) little motel in Lee Vining, triple locked the door behind us and gave thanks for our providential deliverance.

A Cruel Trick.

So Utah has very particular laws regarding the sale of alcohol. We were, of course, aware of this, though ignorant of the details. But coming out of totally dry Navajo country, we figured nuance was better than nothing. And so it was. The hefeweizen in Glendale was lovely, so we were looking forward to getting to Cedar City and an actual cocktail.

We found a little Chinese restaurant that looked good, but they didn't even offer beer, and in fact told us that no restaurants in town offered beer or wine. We put this down to a communications error and set off looking for anther place to eat and drink. A very attractive Mexican restaurant beckoned. As we walked in there were signs for margaritas! And bottles of tequila!

Licking our chops, we asked for the tequila list, and they had one of our favs: Patron Reposada. Two shots, please.

Well, you saw it coming, even if we didn't: no shots, only mixed drinks, which means pre-mixed neon-green margs, one of our pet peeves. Had one anyway. Regretted it.

What a cruel trick!

See O. Do That Hoodoo That She Do So Well.

Bryce Canyon. Home of the mysterious Hoodoos. What is a hoodoo? Let O. demonstrate:

The hoodoos are the ones in pink.

Hoodoos are formed by water seeping into the cracks of the rock, then freezing and expanding to slowly widen the cracks. (Bryce dips below freezing about 200 nights out of the year.) This constant weathering process, plus wind and rain, combined with Bryce's mix of mineral deposits has over time created a dazzling forest of hoodoos of all shapes and sizes and colors. Take a look.

That's a powerful lot of hoodoo.

Hoodoo with hoo-hoo.


Even the trees are a little strange.

And grow in odd places.

A Sweet Find

Out of Navajo country, out of AZ and on to UT and Bryce Canyon. In Glendale, UT, we found a a sweet little B&B run by a very nice couple. A lovely place to say, made even lovelier by their next door neighbor: the Buffalo Bistro. Good food at last! BBQ'd wild boar ribs for P. Yum! O. contemplated the rabbit/rattlesnake sausage, but chickened out at the last minute. (Probably would have tasted like chicken anyway.) All washed down with an excellent hefeweizen. Joy, o joy! We highly recommend if you're ever in the area.

The historic Smith Hotel in Glendale, UT. Now a sweet B&B.
The proprietors, Rochelle and Mike.

How Monumental Was Our Valley

After our excellent adventure in Canyon de Chelly, we motored off towards our next destination: Monument Valley. Accommodations near the park being limited, we found a nice motel in Kayenta, a dusty little burg abiout 22 miles south. They were piping the flute stylings of a Naxajo musician who we had met at Canyon de Chelly (Travis Terry, excellent CD, very simple (no synths!) and soulful music) as we drove up. Sweet!

Because we hadn't had enough bad food, we decided to seek out a little hole in the wall promising authentic Navajo food. I pity the poor Navajo. Greasy, bland, in every way not good. And to add insult to injury, the Navajo nation doesn't allow the sale of alcohol, so we couldn't even drown our sorrows in an ice-capped martini.

Next morning on to the valley, Very monumental, as promised. Unfortunately, our car is so loaded with John's stuff that we were advised not to try to traverse the unpaved road that leads among the monuments themselves. So all pictures were taken from afar. Still, many amazing sights. Here are some very non-monumental, postage-stamp tastes.

We nicknamed this one "The Owl".

Panorama of the entrance to the valley.

The famous West Mitten.

It's far more monumental when you're there.

One of O's cousins came to say hello.

Into the canyon

At Canyon de Chelly, we spent the night at the Thunderbird Lodge, a comfortable old-style motel inside the park, surrounded by huge old cottonwoods. The next morning, we boarded a truck for our journey back to Anasazi times.

As we wound our way back into the canyon, the red rock walls got higher and higher. Then we began to see pictograms and ruins of ancient pueblos. Because the only way for tourists to access the canyon is with a native guide, it feels almost untouched. The presence of tiny working farms with small patches of corn and squash and a few sheep remind you that the canyon has provided subsistence for indigenous people for thousands of years.

The first rock art includes the figure of Kokopelli and many hand prints.

The pueblo ruins are dwarfed by the massive rock walls. They were built in niches high enough to avoid the flash floods that sweep the canyon, always on the south-facing walls to maximize the heat in the winter.

There are actually two main canyons, Canyon de los Muertos, named after the more than 100 Navajo women and children massacred there by Spanish gold hunters, and Canyon de Chelly, so named because the Spanish mistook the Navajo word for "canyon" for the name of the canyon. So Canyon de Chelly really means Canyon Canyon. Oh, those silly, murderous Spaniards.

The canyon also features many strange and beautiful rock formations. The air was full of drifting cottonwood blossoms--incredibly soft and silky.

More rocks.

More rock art.

More ruins.

Combo.

The air here in eastern Arizona and into New Mexico catches the sun in a different way, giving the light a silvery quality. The combination of the silvery blue with the rosy soil gives the landscape a faintly otherworldly look. The canyon feels incredibly tranquil and nurturing, despite its often violent past. We both left convinced that we had been privileged to visit a very special and powerful place.

Hopi and Navajo Country

Leaving the Grand Canyon, we drove east into Hopi and Navajo country. The first thing we encountered was a sandstorm, so strong at times that we could hardly see the car in front of us. Through the middle of the storm, however, comes a Porsche with the top down driven by an older guy with a young blonde by his side. They vanished literally in a cloud of dust. Wish we could have heard that conversation.

We spent the night in Tuba City. No brass band was on hand to announce our arrival. As it turns out, the town was named after a Hopi leader named Tuva. The next morning we drove through the heart of Hopi country. Our first stop: Old Oraibi on First Mesa. Said to be the oldest continuously settled town in North America, Old Oraibi dates from around 1000 AD. The dwellings there, even the newest, are still built from the same ivory sandstone (a few cinderblock interlopers) that the Hopi have always used. We arrived in the middle of a rain dance that was being performed in the central plaza. We were practically the only non-Hopi observers. We were allowed to watch, but asked not to take photos. In fact, the Hopi ask that no photos be taken anywhere on the reservation. Hence the lack of pictures in this section.

The ceremony involved perhaps a hundred masked Eagle dancers in full paint and regalia. Much drumming and stamping and chanting. The wonderful thing is that this is not a re-creation for the tourist trade. It is an organic expression of the deeply-held religious beliefs of the partiipants and spectators. It was a privilege to watch.

After Oraibi, we visited the villiages on Second Mesa, then went on to Walpi, which is dramatically perched on the long, narrow tip of Third Mesa. Walpi was closed to non-Inians that day, so we had to turn around and continue on to our next destination: Canyon de Chelly. (It's on the Navajo reservation, so there will be pictures.)

Not In A Straight Line

Our road trip is turning into one of switchbacks and roundabouts.  We originally wanted to go first to the Grand Canyon, then continue north to Boise to visit our son John, finally returning home via the Bay Area. Unfortunately, John's plans changed and he was going to be out of town the week we were planning to be in Boise. So now we're going to AZ first, then the Bay Area, and then Boise. Whew! Rather circuitous, but that's life. Especially our life lately.

We will eventually end up in Boise, ID.  

But first, the Grand Canyon:

Wow, for anyone who hasn't visited the Grand Canyon, it truly is grand.  Impossibly deep, incredibly wide, implausibly beautiful and a bit terrifying.  Here is a short video and a few photos that are inadequate to its actual grandeur.

   The audio is annoying wind noise, but this gives you some idea of the scale.

This is the terrifying part.  Some people like to get dangerously close to the edge.  In fact, the day we were there, a woman fell off the edge.  Fortunately her fall was broken by a tree about 50 feet down.  She survived albeit with a broken leg.

Our second day there, we walked down into the canyon about 2 1/2 miles.  Very easy going down, extremely difficult climbing back up.  Luckily for us, the temperature was in our favor, only about 75 with a cool breeze.  But we had reckoned without the altitude (about 8000 feet.)  What started as a sprightly gambol became a lung-busting slog which would have been accompanied by much cursing had we been able to spare the breath.  Once we recovered, we both pantingly agreed the views were well worth the effort (All pictures of us in recovery mode have been destroyed.)

Our last stop in the Grand Canyon was the Desert View Watchtower on the eastern side of the park.  Climbing up 70 feet we enjoyed an unobstructed view of the canyon including the Colorado River far below.  When this tower was built in the 1930's, a local Navajo artist was commissioned to paint the inside walls.  

There is a spiral staircase that is full of native images.

This is a view of the ceiling of the tower.

And one more image.

We set out on a great new adventure

It's something we've always wanted to do: live in another country and experience another way of life. And now we're doing it. We've shed most of our worldly possessions, gotten our certifications, rewritten our resumes and we're applying for jobs teaching English in Vietnam and China.

We are Peter Kuhlman and Ophelia Ramirez. We are 60 and 59. We are reinventing our lives.

The first step in this reinvention is getting rid of stuff. Don't get me wrong, we like our stuff, but it is also an anchor. So we've sold and donated and discarded much of what we've accumulated in the 27 years we've been together (as well as a certain amount of things we had acquirred in the years before we met.) We've kept artwork that we love, a few pieces of furniture and technology, clothes, and a few photos and mementos. Most of those are going in storage while we find jobs overseas.

While we look for work, we are taking a five-week road trip. We will visit the Grand Canyon, the Bay Area to visit some of our best friends, then on to Boise to stay with our son, John, his wife, Emily, and our youngest granddaughter, Luciya. Once we return, we'll stay with our daughter, Teresa, her husband, Matthew, and their two daughters, Syona and Devon, until we are ready to move to Asia.

We hope that we will be able to find jobs by July and move overseas by August. That is the short version of where we find ourselves. As we continue this blog we want to share with you more about how we got here, what we hope to do in the future, how it feels to completely change your life in the late middle ages.