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Dubrovnik and Split Croatia

The next stop was Dubrovnik, Croatia. Dubrovnik is an ancient walled city surrounded by mountains and the sea. Very picturesque. Our guide explained the history of the place and the fact that very few people live in the old part of the city. For one thing, it’s inundated with tourists. For another, I don’t think they allow the residents to modify their apartments so electrical and plumbing must be a problem. The guide said she lives outside the walls, and it takes her 20 minutes to get to work at her summer job of being a guide. I think she said she taught French at the university during the winter months. Sounds a lot like the US. She talked about the 1991 war but didn’t explain what it was about. She just said that it was started by the Montenegrins who come over to apologize every now and then. She said she was too young to really remember much about it but there are still lots of hard feelings. We toured the Franciscan monastery and apothecary, the world’s oldest working pharmacy. Then she cut us loose for private time. We wandered the streets which are geared for tourists. Game of Thrones was filmed in Dubrovnik and there are shops dedicated to the series. One of the shops even had a copy of the Iron Throne. I thought about having my picture taken with it but it looked really uncomfortable. We kept seeing signs (in English!) telling about the 1991 war. The signs mostly were reminiscences of the day the war started. The bombing started at 5 a.m. without warning and caused a lot of damage. Maps showed what had been destroyed but never said what started the war. So we googled it. When Tito died some of the countries who’d been forced into one country called Yugoslavia wanted independence. The centralists didn’t want to let them go. So what is now Montenegro bombed what is now Croatia. There aren’t many signs of the war left. It’s a beautiful country. And they love Hollywood.

We went back to the ship and Gordon joined me by the pool but we didn’t stay long. We played Trivia and got our butts kicked. An English bunch next to us listened to us argue and took our answers. They also ‘corrected’ our paper and said some of our right answers were wrong. Stupid way to win a stupid game but I was glad the colonists revolted in 1776. And I know why, too. Bloody buggers.

Dinner was a seafood buffet on the forward deck, and we met Billy and Dawn there. I loved the food, but Gordon went to the world café and got food there. He’s’ not a lobster, shrimp, or crab lover. He asked for milk again and, again, the staff thought he was nuts. But they brought him a glass of milk—over ice. It was a lovely night outside.

Next day we toured the town of Split, one of the oldest cities in Croatia. We toured the ancient Roman palace of Emperor Diocletian. The subterranean chambers were originally used for storage, I think (they’re very cool) but most recently they were used as the dragons’ den in Game of Thrones. We enjoyed the ruins of the palace and were let loose for private time. Gordon and I went to the area the guide called the upscale shopping district. It’s where the locals shop. There was some nice stuff but nothing I couldn’t live without. My problem was I kept setting off the alarm. I set it off going into the store. I obviously hadn’t stolen anything, so the security guy waved me through. Unfortunately, when I came out, I set off the alarm again. People came running but the guard just said, “Oh, it’s you. It’s okay.” And waved me on. We stopped at the town square for a coffee and a rest. I liked watching life as the locals live it. Very civilized. No muggings, no shootings, no riots. I could get used to it.

After a light dinner, Gordon and I went to the last show onboard. They did a Beatles medley. I enjoyed the light show and the musicians, but the singers? Meh. The girls weren’t bad. Not much stage presence but not bad but the two boys? Very pitchy. I expected better. I compared them to the entertainment on our American Queen Mississippi cruise. Extraordinary talent. Americans may not have ancient history, but we can put on a show. We went to bed right after the show. We had a tour of Venice the next day.

Well in the courtyard of the Franciscan monastery in Dubrovnik

This is us being tired tourists in the courtyard of Split

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Katakolon, Corfu, and Kotor

Our next excursion was to Katakolon, the site of the original Olympic games. Apparently, the site was buried under centuries of silt and debris from floods. They’re still digging it out. We saw the original training and barracks areas. There are altars to the various gods and the markers for the 100 meter dash. Some of the tourists ran the dash and those of us who climbed the hillside cheered them on. We were also shown the site where the contemporary Olympic flame is lit. I thought they’d start the flame at one of the altars, but they direct a lens on some kindling in a spot on the gravel road. I didn’t see anything special about the area but that’s where they do it. They even have a second flame just in case the original flame goes out as it travels around the world. We were lectured about the foliage in the area then we were turned loose for our free time. Gordon and Billy headed for the museum, but Dawn and I walked to Katakolon to shop. Our guide explained that the shops didn’t open until the cruise ships anchored. Tourists are the lifeblood of the town so everybody speaks English. I found a leather purse I wanted but couldn’t find my wallet. I freaked out, of course, but Dawn calmed me down. She even paid for the purse. I paid her back in American dollars, but I worried about my wallet. When we got back to the ship I hurried to the safe where I found the wallet, safe and sound. What bothered me is: I didn’t remember putting it there. It was the smart thing to do but I seem to be losing my marbles. Not a comforting thought. I prefer to think that I was still jet-lagged. Yeah, that’s it: jet lag.

Gordon took a nap but I decided to take advantage of the pool on board. It was two strokes across for Gordon which explained his lack of interest in it but I was happy to paddle around or float. I wasn’t even embarrassed about being seen in a bathing suit. I may not be able to keep up with 25-year-old starlets but in the land of the over-the-hill gang I’m still a hot little trick. At least my skin doesn’t hang in folds. Gittin’ old ain’t pretty.

We met Dawn and Billy for dinner at the Chef’s Table on board that night. It was a seafood meal with paired wines for each course. I enjoyed it tremendously, but Gordon didn’t care for the sashimi course. He doesn’t eat bait. I do and I ate his too. Can’t waste a thing. Dinner ran long so we watched the evening’s entertainer from the TV in our suite. I think they had a piano player that night. He was good but I was tired. I slept through it.

We went to Corfu the following day. Prince Phillip was born there, and it seems like a nice place, but it was so crowded with my fellow tourists I didn’t really enjoy it. I remarked to Gordon on how clear the water was, and I appreciated seeing where the Durrells of Corfu was filmed but I got tired of fighting crowds. We toured some churches and shopped in the picturesque old town, but we decided to walk back to the ship instead of waiting for the shuttle. The guide said it was only a 15-minute walk. Maybe if I was a greyhound. It took us half an hour and we don’t walk slow. We had to go through customs, of course, before we were allowed on the pier. We took the afternoon off then met Billy and Dawn for dinner at The Restaurant on board. Excellent meal as usual but it took 2 ½ hours. We were dining European style. That meant we missed the entertainment. We watched from our room. It was a young woman comic/singer. She had a wonderful voice, but I didn’t think much of her comedy. Didn’t feel like I missed much.

We left Greece for Montenegro the next day. Montenegro gets its name (Black Mountain) from the firs growing on the surrounding hillside. There’s a 16-mile channel between the Adriatic and the town of Kotor which was known as a ship building center in the Middle Ages. Kotor looks like it’s surrounded by mountains because of the turning of the channel. The guide told us it’s the longest fjord south of Scandinavia. I liked Kotor better than Corfu. It’s a beautiful walled city. And it’s not as crowded. The city is doing well. I wondered if life under the Russians was difficult, but the guide said Tito protected them. She sounded wistful about the Tito days. We went back to the ship because we had a concert later that afternoon at St Nicholas’ church farther down the coast. We took a boat to the site and were met by our guide who referred to us as ‘good and beautiful people’ in a Boris and Natasha accent. He told lots of jokes, some funny, but was basically a kick. We toured the church and were treated to champagne before the concert began. The two artists were guitar players who specialized in local music. They were excellent and got a richly deserved standing O. Then we boated home. We weren’t very hungry, so we went to the 24-hour World Café on board. It was another early night in our delightful suite. I could learn to love traveling like this.

Barracks ruins at Olympia

Me in full-tourist regalia in Corfu. The water was so clear!

I think this was a church at Kotor. they all started to look alike after a while. That’s what happens on whirl-wind tours.

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Athens, Greece

On May 9th, we Ubered to LAX at noon to catch a 2:30 flight. The cats were a little distraught, but we figured they had each other. Unfortunately, they don’t like each other. That’s life. Anyway, we left plenty of time for any stafus of which there were none for once and headed to the VIP lounge. That’s one of the perks of flying Business Class, you get better chairs to nap in and free snacks. I didn’t realize there were so many VIPs. We had a hard time finding someplace to sit. But we managed and were in time to board our plane without a lot of puffing and begging people to excuse us. We each got our own cubicle complete with pillow, blanket, and water bottle. I was a little put off when the remote for the movie screen was attached by a cord (how old is this plane?) but I finally got things working after the flight attendant re-booted the system. I enjoyed my glass of sparkling wine and settled down for the twelve-hour flight to London. I stretched out and slept most of the way. It’s so nice not be exhausted by the flight. We landed at Heathrow and were met by a Viking rep–which is a good thing. Heathrow has got to be one of the screwiest airports in the world. I tried to find arrival/departure signs as we followed the rep but I couldn’t see any. We went up and down, around and through, and finally got on a shuttle to another terminal which was about 20 minutes away. I’d never have found my way to the new terminal on my own. We got on a plane and found ourselves on a Southwest type plane. We’d paid for Business and were flying economy for the three hours to Athens. I wasn’t happy. This was the second time we’d gotten on some screwy flight. But there wasn’t much I could do. At least Gordon and I had the row to ourselves. I slept for the three hours to Athens.

We went through customs and got our luggage at the Athens airport then found the Viking rep. We all had to wait because the airlines had lost the luggage of two Viking passengers. We waited for two hours. Thank God, I’d slept most of the way or I’d have gone ballistic. The couple finally got through the process of reporting their lost luggage and we got in the shuttle for the Marriott hotel. We didn’t get in until 8 in the evening, so we had dinner at the hotel (marginal) and went to bed. I don’t know why I find sitting on my butt so tiring, but I do. I wanted to be rested up for touring the next day.

We had the breakfast buffet at the hotel the next day and caught a shuttle to our tour. We stopped at the stadium built for the 1896 Olympics for pictures then drove to a government building to watch the guards do their little dance. The guide told us the soldiers were all over six feet tall and chosen for their looks. They had to parade for an hour which would have destroyed my quads. Plie, releve, up and down. The poms poms on their shoes bobbed to the choreography.

We were driven past the Hotel Bretagne, considered the nicest hotel in Athens and was commandeered by the Nazis for their headquarters in WWII. We saw the ruins of Hadrian’s’ Temple (or something). We saw lots of statues dedicated to Lord Byron. It’s an interesting city. Then we spent an hour and a half at the Acropolis Museum. We got lots of information about what we’d be seeing later on we climbed the hill. I’m glad we got the lecture. At least I understood what I was looking at when we got to the Acropolis. I thought the climb up the hill would be a lot tougher but the path wound around so it was manageable. We toured the Parthenon and various temples. I joked to the guide that I’d been to the Parthenon in Nashville, and she replied that the real thing was three times the size. I was surprised she knew about the Nashville Parthenon but I’m probably not the first tourist to mention it. The real thing is truly impressive. It’s boggling to think how the builders got all that rock up the hill–and made art from it. It’s awe-inspiring to consider how old the temple is and how well it’s stood up–especially since it was filled with ammo which blew up at some point. Athens, along with some European arts council, is paying to have it rebuilt. Good to know.

We went back to the hotel for a nap then Ubered to Plaka to meet our cruise companions, Billy and Dawn Williams, for dinner. Plaka is Old Town Athens and is picturesque. The William’s hotel was in the middle of everything and had a roof-top deck where we had a glass of wine before dinner. We shopped and had gyros. I’m glad Billy and Dawn stayed in Plaka; I might have missed it otherwise.

Next day we had our buffet breakfast and were shuttled to the ship, called the Jupiter. When we checked in the customer relations person told us we’d been upgraded. I was skeptical. We’d been screwed over on our flights and I’d lost faith in Viking. I told her I’d like to check out the room before I agreed to anything. She looked faintly taken aback but let me inspect the room. Well, I guess they were making up for our screwy flights because they upgraded us to an Explorer Cabin. We had a living room with a fireplace, a dining room. double sinks in the bathroom with a separate shower/tub room that had a TV. It had a walk-in closet with a dressing area. The deck with two lounge chairs was bigger than the cabin we had on our first Viking cruise. This is how rich people cruise. I graciously accepted the upgrade and texted Dawn: “You’re not going to believe this.” It was great. Fritzie, our housekeeper, gave us instructions on how everything worked. We got changed and met our friends at Manfredi’s, the Italian restaurant on board, for our first meal. It was a lovely day.

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Acropolis from the deck of Billy and Dawn’s hotel in Plaka.

Theater at the Acropolis

Gordon at the original Olympic stadium built in 1896

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Recent Entertainment

We haven’t been out much so it was a pleasant change to have a musical and a concert to attend. We went to Funny Girl at the Ahmanson last Tuesday. It was opening night, I think, and the crowd was enthusiastic. I was a little hesitant about the whole thing. I remember reading that the show got so-so reviews when it came out in the 60s. Streisand saved it, I think, and it made her a star. And I’ve seen the movie a hundred times so I had Streisand’s interpretation firmly fixed in my mind. I felt sorry for any actress trying to make the part her own. Well, I was surprised. The book must have been re-written because it made more sense than the movie did. Nicky Arnstein became a fleshed-out character with motivation instead of just a handsome man in a ruffled shirt. Katerina McCrimmon played Fanny Brice and made the part her own. I could hear echoes of Streisand when she sang the famous songs (People, for instance) but she gave it her own spin. And I think she’s probably a better actress than Streisand. She played it broadly–well, Fanny was a broad, after all–but she was human and funny. She really brought the audience in. Melissa Manchester played Mrs. Brice. I hadn’t seen her since we attended a concert at the Greek Theater years ago. I didn’t know she could act. Well, she can. And she can sing too. The audience loved her. Actually, the whole cast was great. The tap dancers brought the house down. People still like tap dancers. The staging was interesting and the lighting was great. Lots of fun. And there were no politics! I didn’t get pissed off about anything! Wow. Glad to see it. I got so tired of being scolded and shamed and ridiculed I quit the Taper Theater. Who needs to pay for that crap? I’m reading that theaters are closing all over. Maybe if they provided entertainment instead of agi-prop…Okay, rant’s over. But go see it. It’s a good show.

Last Thursday we went to Disney Hall. Simone Young conducted Arvo Part’s Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten, an Elgar cello concerto, and Vaughan Williams’ Symphony No. 8. I didn’t know any of the pieces, so it was an evening of discovery for me. Gautier Capucon was the cellist for the Elgar piece. I thought he started out a little pitchy. Maybe he was nervous. Or maybe it was me; I always think cellos…celli…whatever, are a little pitchy. Anyway, he finished big. The audience went nuts so he did an encore which I thought was better than the Elgar. It was a pleasant evening. Nobody talked during the music, nobody flashed their phone in my face; I had nothing to be mad about. And that’s a good night in Los Angeles. Oh, I forgot to say anything about Young. She seemed competent enough. Can’t really compare the pieces because they were new to me. I found her gauze tunic and pants a little informal but really, what’s she supposed to wear? Maybe a designer should come up with something specific to women that doesn’t look like it came out of a bazaar. Just a thought.

Both pleasant evenings. Good night to be in Los Angeles.

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Nyad

Gordon and I drove over to the WGA Theater in Beverly Hills last night for a screening of Nyad, a biopic about Diana Nyad who swam from Cuba to Florida when she was 64 years old. I thought it’d probably be a lesbian love story with Annette Benning and Jody Foster swapping tonsils–that seems to be what Hollywood likes–but it was a story of struggle and victory. Annette Benning plays Diana and Jody Foster plays Bonnie, Diana’s good friend and coach. The fact that they’re lesbians is addressed but it’s not a big deal. It’s just who they are. The story is about Diana’s attempts to swim the 110 mile stretch between Cuba and the Florida Keys after a 30-year sabbatical from swimming. And it’s quite a story. Diana made 4 attempts before they finally got lucky with winds and currents. In her 60s. She must have a heart of stainless steel to be take that much punishment. I won’t go into detail, but Annette Benning as Diana is wonderful. Jody Foster is great as Bonnie. There was a Q & A with Annette, Diana, and Bonnie after the film (which got a standing ovation–from actors!). The women were just delightful–very funny.

It’s a wonderful life-affirming film. I recommend it. It’s playing on Netflix. See it.

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Christmas 2023

Okay, here’s the official Christmas letter.

DECEMBER 19th, 2023
GORDON: I’m starting to have Xmas overload, and things are just getting started – let me explain. We had a pretty quiet year, but somehow everything we HAD to do kinda got crammed into late November/early December. We had booked a tour of European Christmas Markets way last year, thinking it would be a nice way to kick off the season. Of course we didn’t get around to being serious about planning it until right around Thanksgiving, which came just before Barb’s birthday (always a stressful time for her, plus I’m not allowed to celebrate it until I catch up four days later, but God help me if I don’t give her a card). So we stuffed Turkey for the four days between Thanksgiving and BDay, then had our combined birthday steak dinner, which got us to a day before departure (My birthday present was 12 hours in the air). After usual lost luggage issues in Amsterdam, we got to the ship and did our first forced-march tour of the city. And for the next seven days we saw the wonders of Rhine Cities (It was wonderful, but exhausting, Barb started calling each day the new Death March). We got back in time to buy tree, hang lights, see two concerts, sing in a third one, and get Barb’s Miata in for major service. We now have two days to write letters and get them mailed so forgive us if this hits your mailbox a little late.
Actually we did have a little fun earlier in the year. Barb was still recovering from last year’s Baltic cruise and didn’t want to do another long flight until much later in the year, so we did a See the USA tour. This one focused on the Utah parks we hadn’t already seen, after a day spent with an old band buddy of mine, whose wife and Barb get along famously – they’re both fascinated by magicians, and have several other interests in common, so Billy and I could just hang back and watch the fun, much like we did as the “sober” band members 50+ years ago. After that we, headed for Moab, via the headwaters of the Colorado River – a magical drive, and great precursor to for Arches National Park. Of course, Arches was overbooked by the time we got around to making reservations, so we had a day to run around Moab. Turns out there’s lots of scenery outside the park that can be accessed by All Terrain Vehicles, so we had to try that. ATVs are sorta like rollercoaster cars that you steer, and the route we took provided the track. I was having a party driving almost vertically up – and down – following the leader. He told us “trust the machine” and it didn’t fail us, but he did forget to mention that occasionally he’d drop over a cliff and not completely get out of the way at the bottom, and of course we couldn’t see him until we were already dropping. Much screeching from Barb the Backseat Driver, but we never actually hit anyone, and the machine proved trustworthy. Barb was VERY happy to spend the next day on paved roads in our rental SUV (they didn’t have my requested small sedan at the rent-a-car place, so we did all our driving in a Suburban). Got lots of shots of cool arches and other formations. On our way to Salt Lake City to fly back we saw Canyonlands and Capital Reef, and sneaked in an organ concert at the Mormon Tabernacle. Altogether fun, and it didn’t require a 12-hour flight to access it.
Aside from our trips, it’s been a pretty quiet year. I’m still doing some consulting work for old clients, and docenting for the Los Angeles Conservancy, along with celebrating 25 years of Board Membership at Partners in Care Foundation (www.PICF.org) as we’ve pioneered ways to keep people with chronic illnesses out of hospitals. I’ll let Barb do the honors about the Rhine Cruise.


BARB: Our next big trip was a Christmas Rhine cruise because we wanted to experience snow for the holiday. Just not too much snow. We splurged and flew Premium Economy. Cost more but you get more room and better treats. Our flight (via KLM) was uneventful, except for the glares we got from the poor bastards in economy. because we had to use the same bathroom. I didn’t care. I peed when I had to, and we got to Amsterdam in good shape. We took a walking tour of the city that afternoon. I loved the canals and the houses that leaned forward. They were designed that way so water couldn’t pool on the roof and rot the wood. I don’t know if I’d trust the leaning walls considering they’re anchored on marshy ground but they’ve stood for 200 years so I guess they’re solid. We went back to the boat for necessary drills, had dinner, and went to bed early. We toured another Dutch small town, Dordrecht (or something like that) the next day. Learned that the town survived because the Nazis bombed Rotterdam instead of them. History in that part of the world is pre-WWII and after WWII. I enjoyed the Netherlands but after that things sort of ran together. I particularly remember Cologne (Koln). The guide was the son of a German man and a Moroccan woman. His name was Mohammed and he editorialized about non-whites feeling sorry for themselves. He said his mother told him not to act like a jerk and he’d be all right. He said she was right; he’d never experienced discrimination. He also declared that the Green policies Germany had adopted were killing people. He said Americans were too polite and should start telling people off when Europeans criticized them for not being Socialist. I imagine he’s been fired by now but I admired his courage in speaking out. And he knew his history. We went off on our own to view the cathedral, which was spectacular. Large wet flakes of snow fell as we wandered through the Christmas market so we got our white Christmas. We bought hats and a Christmas ornament then went to a restaurant the guide had recommended. He said everybody spoke English and all took credit cards. He was wrong. We managed to find the only waiter who didn’t speak English and he indicated they didn’t take credit cards after we ordered. Gordon had packed all our leftover money from past European trips to pay for the ‘toilet frau’ but we used most of it up to pay the bill. Which meant we had to be careful about fluid consumption. We didn’t want to water a bush and cause an international incident because we ran out of 50 cent pieces for the bathroom. And, of course, we left our debit cards at home so we couldn’t go to a bank and withdraw cash. So unprepared. But we made do.


We saw more little towns and Christmas markets but only Mannheim and Strasbourg stick out. Mannheim is a university town specializing in music and their buildings miraculously missed being bombed. A fellow ex-military tourist explained it simply: “They missed.” So the town square is still lovely. We snuck a free bathroom break in an art museum then bought amber and scarves at the market.

We toured Strasbourg and admired the architecture and swinging bridges. We attended an organ concert at the cathedral. Everybody oohed and aahed at the organist, but I get to hear people that good when we sit in with Lutherans. We’re spoiled. Great cathedral though. We shopped but we were getting a little tired of Christmas markets. Charming but we’d already bought what we wanted.


We’d recovered enough strength that we went caroling on the boat after dinner. They kept giving us booze—champagne reception, wine with dinner, schnapps just to warm up—so we were well-oiled enough to bellow along. One drunken passenger announced that we were obviously professional singers and we should sing for everyone. We weren’t that drunk so we begged off, saying the pianist wasn’t playing in our key. The woman must have been really drunk to make the request, we weren’t that good, but Gordon says “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” Maybe she was deaf.


We changed seats at dinner every night so we met a woman who’d worked at South Dakota State University, and a woman who used to go to the Lutheran church we sing at. She said she remembered Foghorn. Apparently, Foghorn’s been putting people off for decades. But we enjoyed meeting our fellow passengers.


On the trip home Gordon got an offer from Air France to upgrade to Business Class for half-price so he took it. I loved it. I got to stretch out in comfort for eleven hours. And we got our own bathroom! No glares from the sardines in Economy! The only annoyance was the butler (that’s what he seemed like); he kept waking me up to offer me stuff. He said I could have all the wine I wanted. I just wanted water. But it’s going to be hard to go back to Premium Economy after traveling in comfort. Maybe if we have a windfall…


Out of space so have a Happy and a Merry and a ho ho ho.

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Christmas Letter Draft

I started our annual letter with a story about traveling to the national parks in Utah. I compared notes with Gordon and he’d written about the same stuff–except his was cuter. So we used his version. But I hate to toss anything so here’s my version. The full Christmas letter will follow in a few days.

Christmas 2023

The Christmas letter is late this year but we have a good excuse—we’ve been on the road.  We’ve been wandering around all year; down to the San Diego area to see various visiting relatives. It’s funny that everybody comes to SoCal to spend time and I’m trying to talk Gordon into leaving before Los Angeles turns into Detroit. He asks me where I want to go and I don’t have a good answer. So, I guess leaving isn’t in the immediate future. But it gives me something to bitch about and that always takes the pressure off Gordon.

We decided we should see American national parks while we can still walk so we booked a trip to Utah. We flew to Denver first to have dinner with Billy and Dawn Williams. Billy is an old band mate of Gordon’s and Dawn is a hoot. We had a great dinner after an eventful flight through thunderstorms. We spent the night at the Boulderado, an historic hotel in Boulder (duh). Boulder was a rich mining town so the facilities were built to impress the rich folks. Our room was decorated with antiques. The whole place was really cool. We enjoyed historic downtown Boulder and surrounding mansions then hit the road in our rented Suburban. We could have invaded a small country in that thing but all the small cars were out. It was take the Suburban or wait three hours. The Suburban was a gashog but it was comfortable and our luggage fit. Actually, we all rattled around like a BB in a boxcar but it got us around. Next day we drove straight through to Moab. It took six hours but the drive was interesting. We drove from Alpine settings to prairie to desert. It was gorgeous. We got to the Hampton Inn in Moab and were ungraded to a suite. I felt like royalty. We went to a local restaurant for Italian. I was surprised that I could order wine, you just can’t watch them pour it. That’s done in the kitchen. They call the booze policy the Zion Curtain. I didn’t care. I could have beer with pizza in Utah! We went to bed early.

We had choices as to outdoor activities. We looked at the river rafting options but there didn’t appear to be any white water; it was just drifting down the Colorado. Boring. I’d just get a sunburn. So we decided to go boulder surfing—at least that’s what I called it. We rented an off-road ATV, The guide told us to leave it in ‘high’ until we got to the hills. The engine screamed as we followed; I thought we were burning up the engine but the guide said it was normal. When we got to the hills we were told to drop into first gear and leave it there. We took off. The first twenty minutes were sheer terror. We were told to keep our hands and feet inside the cage and trust the machine. We roared straight up and plunged straight down. We almost tipped over a few times and I’m convinced that my butt clenching the seat saved us. Gordon, of course, had a ball. We surfed rocks for two hours. We watched another guy almost dump his truck so it can be done. Our guide said it happened all the time. He asked me why I didn’t scream. I told him Gordon (and my butt) was the only thing keeping us alive and I didn’t want to distract him. He laughed. We survived. I told a cousin this story and she asked how many years ago this happened. I said, “Last May.” We may be old be we refuse to grow up. Anyway, Gordon has life insurance. Of course, it’s not worth much…

We drove through Arches and Canyonlands the next day. An Australian mother-and-son unit commented at dinner that night that the landscape looked lunar to them. The mother said they’d traveled from Maine and were on their way to San Francisco. They loved the USA. I think they wanted to emigrate. I hope they don’t change their minds when they see what a mess San Francisco has become. I supposed we should have warned them.

We left our lovely suite and drove through Capitol Reef Park next day. We saw the petroglyphs of a lost native civilization. The story is: they were abducted by aliens. Really. Hey, maybe it’s true, I don’t know. The Mormons tried a settlement but gave up. They left all the fruit trees so the area is truly lovely. We took a few pictures and started the drive to Salt Lake City. We stopped half-way at a small-town Motel 6 or 8 or whatever it is these days. It was Sunday so the only things open were at a truck stop. We ate at Arby’s with the truckers. It reminded me of my childhood. Our room at the Motel whatever smelled of some anti-bacterial, anti-bug product. It almost killed me. I really missed our Hampton Inn suite but you take what you can get. We got to Salt Lake City and stayed at an historic hotel (forgot the name of it). We went across the street for a beer and chili and watched the Lakers get swept by the Nuggets. The locals were all Nuggets fans but they were nice. I think they felt sorry for us.

Next day we toured downtown and attended an organ concert before driving out to look at the Lake. It’s really low. The locals say agriculture takes so much of the winter runoff the lake is drying up. They’re working on fixing it. It was a nice trip but it was time to fly home. I was worried that Maggie, our cat, would be lonesome since her brother disappeared. She was fine. She’s a survivor. I wish I could have said the same about her brother.

Our next big trip was a Christmas Rhine cruise. I’m in Gordon’s space already so I’ll let him talk about it. I just want to say that we were unprepared. We found the only restaurant in Cologne (Koln) that didn’t take credit cards and the waiter didn’t speak English. We used up all our ‘toilet frau’ money paying the bill. Which meant we had to be careful about fluid consumption. We didn’t want to use a bush and cause an international incident because we ran out of 50 cent pieces for the bathroom. We’re ridiculous. Have a Happy and a Merry etc.

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Horror Story

A writers’ group I belong to instructed us to write a 250-word horror story for Halloween. I don’t write horror I thought I’d give it a try. It’s a good exercise in editing because 250 words are (is?) not a lot to work with. Anyway, here’s what I came up with. Happy Halloween 10 days late!

Damn Beans

“You go down cellar and git some beans,” screamed Maggie’s stepmother.

Maggie didn’t argue. Her stepmother was quick with the belt. Her father had married the woman when he lost the farm. “She’ll be a ma to you,“ he’d assured Maggie when they moved into the isolated cottage built over a root cellar. The cottage was primitive, and the cellar was dark and damp and smelled funny. Maggie was afraid of it. “Nothin’s down there but vegetables,” her father scoffed. Then he disappeared. Maggie didn’t blame him. She was desperate to leave, too. But she had nowhere to go.

Maggie crept down the stairs and peered into the dark. She muttered, “There’s nothing down here but jars.” Then she groped her way until one gingerly flailing hand connected with the naked lightbulb hanging in the middle of the room. She turned it on. Shelves of canned vegetables wavered into view. She grabbed the closest jar, took a deep breath and repeated, “Nobody here but me.”. She turned off the bulb and ran for light of the stairwell. One step, two, she was almost in the light. I made it, she exulted then felt a clawed hand dig into her neck and pull her back. A slithery tongue slid up her cheek and a raspy voice whispered in her ear, “Your pa thought he was alone, too. Joke’s on you. Ma’s handy at gittin’ pairs. And I bet you’re more tender than your pa was. Oh, and don’t drop the beans.”