International Event take 2

The second annual Selkirk International Film Festival is at 6 pm, August 25th at the Cutter Theater in Metaline Falls, Washington.  Counting the volunteers, last years attendance was 60 so we need 61 this year.

Metaline Falls, Tyler and Greece

Metaline Falls, Washington.

An hour after we rolled down the driveway we were sitting outside on stone steps looking into Canada with no bugs or humidity feasting on a year old can of organic garbanzo beans transformed into hummus with tahini from somewhere in Idaho on 2 day old bread from Montana.  

They told us the rain stopped the day before we pulled in to Metaline Falls.  Our field was tall and green and there was still snow in the mountains.  Vin's stone walkway hadn't moved...like the stone walkways other people make, he told me...and other than a few flies the house was apparently just as we'd left it*.   Two days later friends Bobbi and Eric from Bozeman popped in to share good meals, movies and bike rides and the next day I left for Greece. 

Our Metaline Falls 15 minute clothes dryer

I am soooo spoiled.

We make it a point to support the local economy.  Shown here is Vince with a slingshot from the local health food/ammo store.

Greece.

Sarah, Linda and me.  Best friends from high school.  When we were 40 we decided that every 10 years we would take a trip together.  When we were 50 we decided we'd better make it every year.  This year we decided to go to Greece.  Partly because of Mamma Mia and partly because Linda's sister Nancy lives there.  While looking into flying from Vermont I noticed that if I flew from Spokane, Washington I could meet up with Sarah and Linda in Denver since that was their first stop after departing from Boise.  Then, we could all fly together Denver/Toronto/Athens.  So.  After paying a little more for a ticket from Spokane, Vin, Max and I drove to Washington a month earlier than we had planned. 

Yada yada....you know how fun it is when you get off a plane and there is someone waiting for you?  My plane landed in Denver.  I had butterflies.  Linda and Sarah would be there and I knew they wouldn't care that they would be making fools of themselves when they saw me.  But I deplaned to a quiet group of airport maintenance workers instead of a couple of ex-cheerleaders screaming and jumping up and down.

'I'll bet they're hiding', I thought, as I scanned the boarding area for a cowboy hat (Linda's trademark).  They weren't there.  My phone rang.  It was Vince.  Sarah had called him.  They'd missed their flight from Boise.  The name on someone's ticket didn't match the name on someone's passport! (insert sinking feeling)  Orbitz told them they would have to buy a new ticket in order to continue.  So what I wondered was, if they did decide to pay $3000 for another ticket, when could they get on another flight?  (more sinking feeling)  Now what?  Are they still going to Greece?  Should I continue east or fly back to Spokane and bag the whole thing?  I was only going because they were going. **  I had a half hour to decide but how could I decide with no information.  I got in line and kept moving forward toward the gate agent until I was standing face to face with her and no one behind me.  The phone rang again.  It was Linda.  She'd been talking to Air Canada and....click (that is, if cell phones made click sounds....) I lost the connection.  I tried to phone her back...'no service available'..."what the..."  That can't be, I was just talking.   Seeing that I had an exit row and an aisle seat, I decided to go to Toronto. 

Toronto.

I had two and a half hours until my Athens flight.  A seemingly luxurious amount to time.  During that time I talked to Linda and Sarah close to a million times.  Soon two and a half hours was 15 minutes.  Still no conclusion.  Deja vu.  In line, I moved toward the gate agent.  I knew I didn't want to go to Greece alone...but they might still go.  And they might not.  I could still fly back to Spokane....the phone rang.  They got re-booked and in TWO DAYS! they would be in Athens through Munich.  TWO DAYS!  I decided to head back to Spokane.  Walking toward the person behind the counter that takes care of things like that, I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask, 

"Can you rebook me on the same flight as my girlfriends?" (paraphrased!) 

and in less than an hour I had a ticket on a flight to Munich where I'd be sitting across from Sarah.  In two days we'd all be getting off a plane together in Athens.

Even though olive oil sits on cafe' tables in Greece like ketchup sits on tables here and the food is fresh and simple, I found Greece too hot and busy for me to really enjoy.  Dah?  It waaaas July.  

(neither did I like that it sounded as if people were always yelling at each other when they spoke or that 'no' meant 'yes').

    

But there were some good parts...  

• upgrading to first class (+$12) on ferries to a couple of islands (Naxos and Santorini)*** and playing rummy based on childhood memories.

• seeing the Parthenon and the Acropolis from a bicycle (a 3 hour bike tour with a guide that was leading us places that had to be off limits to bicycles and would have taken 2 days to walk).

• watching fishermen come in off their boats and cook octopus over wood fires.
• hiking on ancient stone paved trails on Naxos.

• communicating with smiles, waves and hugs while I helped an local 80 year old woman wring out and hang her laundry because her arm hurt

• being with Linda, Sarah and Sarah's sister Ruth

Sorry, no pictures from Greece on this post.  Can you believe I didn't even bring a camera? 

*When the plumber came to winterize the Metaline Falls house last October he did everything on Vince's list (and follow-up email) except #2.

2. put glycol in the concrete floor radiant heating system.  

I don't want to spend much time on this one but what it means is that the system froze, the pipes IN THE CONCRETE FLOOR burst and how do you find and fix leaks IN A CONCRETE FLOOR?

**Tyler tornado. 

The day before I left for Greece my brother Dale called to tell me they'd had a couple of storms back home in Tyler, Minnesota.  He said they were OK but one of the silos blew over.  Plus the hog house was gone.  So was a hay shed.  He said the silo landed on one of the tractors which was good because it could have landed on the pick-up and he was sitting in the pick-up.  He said he tried to get from the pick-up to the house (where my sister-in-law Brenda was in the basement wondering where Dale was) a couple of times but every time he opened the pick-up door to run to the house a hunk of metal roofing went flying through the air.  So tragic.  Even though I would have been of no help whatsoever, I felt like I should be going there instead of going to Greece. 

The hog house used to be somewhere around here.

Tractor with silo on it

Tractor and silo parts

This is not a sculpture garden.   It's the hog house roof having almost made it over to Uncle Mik and Aunt Leona's farm.

Another 'not a sculpture garden' view

***You know when you see pictures of Greece (a huge clump of brilliant white buildings covering an almost vertical mountain and sitting above ocean?), it's usually Santorini and it really does look like that.

Supper Clubs and Parades

Still heading west. 

We're in Tyler, Minnesota (pop. 1267)  for a few days with my family now. 
Driving through Sleepy Eye, Minnesota (home of Kathy Flom Bergs my best friend from college) the other night at midnight I noticed we were going to miss Buttered Corn Days so I was happy we were able to spend yesterday at the Saddle Horse Holiday parade in Lake Benton.*  No marching bands this year...mostly fire trucks and antique John Deere tractors.

You have to get there early to get a seat with the sun at your back.

Following the parade, there is a horse show.

For noon lunch (people here call it dinner) today Dad decided we should go to the windowless metal building called the Kronberg Supper Club (under new management).  Word around town was that the 'beef commercial'** was very good.   Having already eaten, Vin and I watched Dad eat.  We hadn't seen Aunt Marlene and Uncle Roy yet so I borrowed Dad's phone to invite them to join us.  I looked for Marlene's name under 'M' and she wasn't there which was odd since he probably calls her 3 times a day.  When Dad realized I was struggling to find the number he told me it was under tmarlene because when she punched it in his phone she hit the t and didn't know how to delete it.  Roy and Marlene joined us and we all watched Dad eat.  It was fun.

Aunt tMarlene spoils my Dad (Tyler's Huck Finn) by cleaning out his backyard shed.

Dad made a little wooden car to drive in parades.

I counted 11 clocks in Dad's house even with forgetting about the clocks in the new 3-season room.  None of the clocks had the same time, in fact, none were even working but the one in the kitchen (off by only 5 minutes) and the one in the guest room (off by 4 hours and 23 minutes).  Maybe that's why time seemed to stand still when we were there.

Vin doesn't like to play 20 questions as much as I do but he'll play trivial pursuit for miles.  We have one of those trivial pursuit decks with hundreds of questions and I read the questions while Vince drives.  When he gets one wrong he tells me how the card is wrong. 

I recommend Madison, Wisconsin to anyone that likes perfect places.  Forty-three miles of bike paths in the city that are filled with cyclists, a Wholefoods and two funky food co-ops, a university, coffee shops, cool little restaurants.... 

*Lake Benton is 7 miles from Tyler, my hometown.  They were our high school rivals.   It's smaller and much rattier than Tyler (just causing trouble) and has some hills.

**beef commercial (n.) a roast beef sandwich cut in two diagonally, pivoted open at one end to form a triangle of plate which is then filled with a dollop mashed potatoes and smothered (the whole thing....sandwich and mashed potatoes) with roast beef gravy.  many calories per serving. upper Midwest specialty.

Where Are We Today?

Two or three times a week, I get 'Your Daily Spanish Word' in my inbox.  Yesterday my word was avergonzado.  It means 'ashamed' and reminded of how ashamed I am at feeling sorry for myself after my recent little knee surgery.  Even though it's just for a week, having to 'lay low' (which mostly means 'don't ride your bike') is driving me crazy.  You'd think with all this extra time I could be doing things that I never have time for when I don't have to lay low but I can't because I'm fixated on what I can't do instead of what I can.  It's not like I ride my bike all day, it's more like an hour or two, but the thing is, it makes everything else I do during the day so much better.  Sort of like butter.  You know how fresh sweet corn or warm homemade bread is pretty good all by itself?  OK, now add a little butter.

More About The Knee.
During pre-op, half way into the description of needle insertions and injections into the lumbar area, I interrupted my spinal anesthesiologist with an 'I trust you' which he immediately correctly interpreted as 'shut up' and left it at "you won't be able to feel anything below the waist."  I would have to say that was an understatement.  In the recovery room out of the corner of my eye I could see a nurse holding something in the air above her head.  When I focused I saw it was my leg.  

This is what they took out of my knee (the white thing that looks like popcorn, not the nickel)  It's blurry, sorry.

Real Estate For Sale.

I'd always wanted a purple door.  (Plainfield, Massachusetts)

Stairs and wall by Vince, a self-taught stone mason.

3 years is a long time to have a house on the market but 6 months ago we had 2 houses on the market so it could be worse.  Every winter we take the house in Massachusetts off the market and close it up because we don't want a potential buyer seeing all that unmanaged snow then every spring we spend a week opening it back up.  We've been doing it so long now that we just do it without even thinking that the reason we do it is to sell it.  I think subconsciously I don't want to sell it because it's my favorite place to sleep (and shower and ride) making the week we spend there every spring more like a luxury vacation than the drudgery it should feel like.  In a way I hate the thought of selling the house and cutting our last tie to western Mass after twenty-five years of a really good life.

Can you see why this would be my favorite place to sleep?

Washington State May Seem Like A Long Way To Go To Get Away From Deer Flies.
Neither of us play an instrument so when I saw Vin carrying our guitars out to the trailer I knew we weren't taking just the bare necessities and it was going to be a while before we left.
By 7:30 (that's 7:30 pm) we were packed and ready to hit the road.  We made it to Rutland, Vermont, Vin figured about 105 miles.*  The first thing I did when we got to the motel was lock the key in the room. The sign on the motel office door said 'We're Closed. In case of emergency dial 123' but since I was locked out of the room I had nothing to dial 123 on so I found a room with the lights on and knocked.  The door opened momentarily blinding me with a thick gray wall of cigarette smoke.  The guy holding the growling pit bull didn't take his eyes off the TV and the guy at the door just looked waiting for me to speak.  He dialed 123 for me.  I saw his lips move into the receiver but all I could hear was the TV.  30 seconds later the manager was cheerfully opening our door.

The Room.
Across from 'Simply Meat' and between the 'Joy of Nails' and 'Adam and Eve Hair Design', sat our $44 room.  It smelled sort of funny at first but I got used to it.  When I sat on the side of the bed my feet were in the bathroom so I didn't have to touch the carpet with my bare feet and without much effort I could almost reach the decal on the shower door that promised  a Thermasol In-room Steam®' that wasn't really there.

So.  We've started our road trip.  It's good except that we have to have the AC on high continuously for Max even though I'm freezing all the time.


*at that rate it will take us about a month to get to Washington.

Humor Me

I wanted to do another post while I was still 54 and I am still 54 even though my Spanish classmates think I'm already 55.  On day one we had to announce our birthdays to the rest of the class in Spanish.  I was first and said Mayo cinco (May 5 with the words in the wrong order) when what I meant to say (or thought I was saying) was Mayo quince (May 15, again, the words are in the wrong order).  Everyone was so psyched that my birthday was Cinco de Mayo that I just let it go.

Looking out at the wooded hills from a sun warmed granite step outside our Vermont kitchen I say to myself "it's a good thing I like the color green".  It's hard to believe there can be so much green.  A million different shades, textures and layers.  Everyday it's greener.  This is where I decide to write just one more post where I pretend I'm in Costa Rica and be done with it.

Since I've been back I've been asked what a day in Costa Rica was like a bunch of times.....

,

Jose' lives at Rainsong , the local animal sanctuary, and has one arm after trying to swing across the road using a powerline.

It's 5:30.  The rooster wakes up the monkey and the monkey wakes up me.  It's hot but not as hot as it will be by 7 so I ride out to Cabo Blanco, the first ever nature preserve in Costa Rica, and back...about an hour-ten.   The fat cold stream of water from my shower head feels good as I rinse the dust from my haphazardly tanned body.  A hardy bowl of oatmeal and almonds prepared in the communal kitchen should hold me over until I get another chance to eat.   Then 4 hours Spanish.  Because 'they' just keep moving you forward according to the amount of time you've been at the school and not according to how much you actually know, in my 4th week I ended up in Spanish Level 2.  The nightmare began when I got to class on that 4th Monday before my sole classmate, Simon, and Edgar, the professor, started talking to me in Spanish....just Spanish...just me and him.  Even after 3 weeks it still sounded like one long word and didn't take long for either of us to realize that I wasn't Spanish Level 2 material.   Instead of concentrating on the content of the questions he was asking all I could think was "Where is Simon?"  Finally Simon got there just in time to hear the last question directed at me.  I answered in broken, but only, Spanish, "Last night I studied my Spanish."  Edgar and Simon laughed which was OK because the focus then shifted to Simon.  Later I asked Simon what the question was....."Do you have children?"  I somehow made it through the week and Spanish 2 partly by making sure I never got to class before Simon again.

Then.  Back on my bike and out to Cabo Blanco again with a stop at the Cabuya Bakery on the way back where I'd sit and read a chapter in my book while sipping on a club soda with ice and no lemon.*
Getting back to the school/hotel on oatmeal fumes, I had just enough time for the fat stream of cold water rinse and an egg sandwich or guacamole and chips prepared, again, in the communal kitchen (the avocados were always perfect) before surfing.   Depending on where we were surfing that day, our surf time from strapping the boards to the top of the van or hiking to the beach was about 4 hours.  While most of the women surfed with bikinis and complained about bruises, abrasions and having to take days off or quit early, with my board shorts, rash guard, knee bands and wool socks attached to my ankles with electrical tape (it wasn't my age that set me apart from the rest of the group) without even thinking about it, I was the last one out of the water every day.** 

After another cold water rinse, different (though not clean) clothes, I was relaxed and ready for the highlight of my day....an hour Skype to Vince where we would talk about nothing really.  We would both get hungry about the same time and hang up.  He would heat some of the lasagna I'd made for him (out of love and guilt) before I left and I would go to El Sano Banano for the same thing every night, (lettuce, heart of palm, avocado, olive oil, chips, guacamole, sometimes grilled chicken, club soda with ice and no lemon*) and either eat it during the nightly movie***, while reading my book or studying my Spanish. 

And that was it...everyday except Wednesdays when we had only 2 hours of Spanish and I could go to the Montezuma Hotel for a club soda with ice and no lemon, sit, look out at the beach and write postcards that I would give to the bookstore owner that would bring them to a town with a post office.

*By the end of my stay I was really really good at ordering in Spanish at the Cabuya bakery and El Sano Banano.
**In atypical fashion I returned home after 4 weeks without a scratch.
***the nightly movies were current and shown in English with English sub-titles because of the street noise.

Lots of pictures with the free camera....


OK.  It's time to move on and while composing this post I did turn 55.

I knew if I kept looking I'd find some great roads for riding.

And more great roads.

I came down a hill on my bike, the cows were in the middle of the road drinking and didn't move.  I had to weave through them.

Remember the mangoes everywhere that I was telling you about?

The Montezuma Hotel cafe'.  High ceilings with fans.  Open air and on the beach.  I felt like I'd turn around and see Ernest Hemmingway sitting there.

A street scene.  No Starbucks.

Another street scene.

More of the street.

Last one and another place that sells mango smoothies.

The End for now.

OK I'm Ready For Winter

It's still really hot so I don't mind that the shower is only cold water but when the ceiling fan quit, I was bummed.  I pantomimed to the housekeeper that the fan wasn't spinning.  She got up on my bed, gave a blade a whack and voila.....moving air.  Easy enough. 

My humble room

Yesterday, sitting in the van in front of a new break/beach with a rock bottom, the four of us...I guess you could stretch the definition and call us 'advanced beginners'...were all pretty nervous.  Guiermo our Uraguanian surf instructor was sitting deep in thought, looking out at the water and we weren't going to move until he did.  Expecting to hear some deep wave assessment insight I asked,

"What are you thinking Guiermo ?"  

"I thinking where I going to park" he answered.

The Weekend.

There is no getting around the riding being hot and hilly (I'm saving the flat 15 miler to the bakery and national park for weekdays) although the morning rain made it cooler and less dusty for about a half hour.  I was on my bike today for a long time and not because I went a long way but because I walked some of the hills.  At the beginning of the ride, if I'd hear someone coming, I would act like I had just gotten off to let them by, stand there while they passed and then act like I was getting back on my bike until they were out of site.  After a while I decided even that was too much extra effort and would just keep walking.  As much as I was suffering, I still really really enjoyed being out.  I stopped for club soda and decided to enjoy it in the ambiance of the little store.  As the uncomfortable silence became louder I said to the clerk "Las olas grande" ("the waves big") which is what you say when you don't know the language well enough to say "How about this weather?".  She gave me a confused look and answered with something about the moon.

Later while passing a group of 4 or 5 12-ish year old kids on their bikes the front girl stood up and said "Vamos" which I happened to know meant "Let's go."  

On the same ride 2 dogs came out and chased me.  I yelled "go home" a couple of times and they didn't.  Of course not, they only speak Spanish.

Sharing the road

More sharing the road

Other News.

While my surf today was spent working on turning...on purpose, Carly from Vancouver was at the other end of the beach letting the board get between the wave and her.  Wop.  Off to Cobano to the Emergency Room with a sign above the door that says "Lifeguard Station", then across the street for an x-ray at the vet clinic.  Nothing was broken.

I was reading my book.  I don't have a bookmark but I've been having pretty good luck opening the book to where I left off each time.  Today I opened it to where I thought I left off and read the first line "The bullet that killed Laurie..."  Shit.  Wrong place.  Last I knew Laurie was on a raft trip.

To be here you have to not mind being dirty.

I've never enjoyed icing my knee as much as I've enjoyed icing it here.

There has to be an easy way to get out of this hammock.

Sorry about the photo quality but it's what you get with a digital camera you get free with a hundred dollar HP printer.

 Presentation is everything

Breakfast and more sharing

Hola

Back in November I thought I'd be ready to leave winter by April 10.  I'd done at least one race (make that 'JUST one race')*, skied everyday and was sure the snow would be long gone.  Instead of the snow being long gone, the skiing was the best of the season (not to mention we'd just gotten running water in the kitchen and season 4 of Mad Men).  Suddenly I couldn't remember why I had decided to go to a Spanish and surfing school in Costa Rica for 5 weeks.  I've always wanted to learn another language so I remember that being a big reason for my decision...and  just to see what it was like, I wanted to go somewhere that I could surf everyday.  Realizing the snow was going to be around for awhile, I looked into shortening my trip or not going all together but it was too complicated so my reason for going became not the I wanted to learn Spanish and surf everyday but that it was too difficult not to go. 

A breakfast of my favorite food at the DC airport

Security at the Tambor airport

The trip started with a 4 AM hotel wake-up call that never came.  Luckily my bladder was unbearably full at 4:15 AM.  A breakfast of my favorite food in the DC airport at 7:15 AM set me up for the rest of the day.  The big flight to San Jose was good and I managed to hyperventilate my way though the white-out in the 12 seater to Tambor before the 45 minute taxi ride to my destination in Montezuma.

hotel/school lobby

At the desk of the funky open air hotel lobby (which is also the school) I learned that there wasn't a room for me.  At least I thought that was what I was being told.  All I could pick out of what sounded like one long Spanish word from the person behind the desk was Chica and manana over and over.  I don't know what I was thinking when I registered for a double room and a roommate.....I stood for a moment contemplating the scenarios a roommate could add to my trip and requested a single room.  The desk person seemed satisfied and put me in a room all to myself.

 

This is a whole bike.  2' x 2' x 8"  Fooled you airline people.

After struggling 3 and a half hours in bad light, 100 degrees, 4:15 AM brain and trying to make no noise in a room where the wall didn't go all the way to the ceiling, I decided that I would dismantle what I had managed to put together on my bike, (I had never seen so many cables) put it back in it's case, and forget about it while I rented a 50 pounder at $15 a day for the time I was there.  Then, along came Jose' with his blond waist length dreadlocks and 30 seconds later I had a working machine.   The universal language of bike fanatics and derailleur cables....

I was a little uncomfortable about keeping my computer in a room that has a just-for-show lock but found a fool-proof hiding place so I could relax.  I asked the stranger that was url-surfing (not to be confused with ocean-surfing) in the hammock next to me where he kept his computer.  I must look trustworthy because he told me he hid it in his room under his backpack.......which is the same fool-proof place I was hiding mine.  I don't know, but if I was going to steal a computer from a hotel room, I know where I'd look first.

Mile 5 of my twice daily ride.  Notice my fully assembled working bike.  If you want, you can look closely and see the couplings holding the frame together.  They're the reason it fits into that little case.

The inside of mile 5.

The riding here is mostly HILLY!!! and it's just too hot to enjoy HILLY!!!.  But.  There's a spectacular 7 mile flat road along the ocean with a local bakery at mile 5 and a National Park at mile 6 and a half that I can put up with.

Our Spanish classroom.

The school is a safe environment for a solo female traveler.  Learners of all ages (I'm still the oldest but not my that much) from all over the world make a pretty good group.  I thought that I looked the same age as everyone else here until one German college co-ed said that she hoped to be doing things like this when she was my age.  I did have to ask a few classmates (that I see several times a day) to respect the 'no smoking sign' (wow, did that news travel fast).  I assumed they would snub me and smoke anyway so I'd have to drop out or something but it seems to be OK enough and the smoking stopped.  It's not that I don't think anyone should smoke here if they want to (however if I was king there would be no smoking :) ) and it's good for me to put myself in a situation where I have to lighten-up to survive...it's just that it was 3 folks right outside my no-option open window.

I can deal with monkeys waking me at 5 am since I get to drift asleep to slapping Pacific waves.   I'm still not sure I'll ever speak Spanish.  The other night I was secretly congratulating myself about my Spanish progress until the waiter asked me how my meal was and I proudly said 'bonita' which means pretty.  That being said, the radio was playing in the supermarket and I understood a few words which was a few words more than I'd ever understood before.  So now I know that, even though I'm not sure what, there is something going on in Montezuma at 8:30 tonight.

You don't have to bump your lip very hard with a surfboard to split it (the lip) which is my only injury.

 See lip.

Yesterday Jim, Greg, Brandon and I went to a new-for-us local beach in a noisy, dusty, rattletrap of a van.  Afterwards, tired with salty board shorts and hair, a few new abrasions, listening to salsa music sneaking through the static on the radio and bouncing along on a dusty dirt road...ever seen the movie 'Endless Summer?'  I'm still no Laird Hamilton on the surfboard but after a week of surfing, I'm still sitting here still basically uninjured (maybe I shouldn't have said that?).  I wonder if Laird has salt water running out of his nose when he bends over for hours after being in the ocean ?

The air is thick with the smell of mangos.

Now,  if I can just lift myself out of this hammock.

*Race note:  When the pre-race wax-of-the-day chatter consisted of wax numbers instead of the wax colors I was used to, I knew I was probably in trouble.  The gun went off and soon I found myself surrounded by shoulder height 10 year old boys that I'm sure they were really fast.

I'm writing like I don't miss Vin and Max BUT I DO.