Absence makes the heart...

Solmar reservoir is full right now; source of my water.

Have you missed me?

I've missed you, my dear readers. But my life has been significantly challenged with a car that needed a new transmission. Which, once it was fixed, needed to go back in again because the frammis was rubbing up against the jixmas and causing the gears to wobble and they needed to replace the flabgesty so that didn't happen anymore.

(If you didn't understand that, it's because I didn't either... all I know now is that it is finally fixed right.)

These two segments of four-day repairs had me living somewhere other than in my own house with good internet access, so I didn't even try to write here.

Spring has come early to the Olympics and bees are buzzing around all kinds of flowering flowers, shrubs and trees. But our water situation is not good. The mountains only received about 20 percent of the snow required. (It must have all been shipped east to Boston and points north!)

I continue to enjoy the delights of a loving relationship with F and the challenges of it as well.

But if there is anything I am significantly grateful for it is hearing news that my 17-year old grandson is OK after totaling his vehicle yesterday.

Deer are boldly coming into neighborhoods to feed on
new plant growth; they are fearless for the most part.

As I listen to the birds and watch the bees, I realize how precariously we are connected to life and how if this accident had happened in any other way I might be grieving deeply.

And I completely understood how my daughter was feeling, because my own 17-year old son did just that same thing years ago, causing his angels to work overtime as well.

Perhaps boys of 17 should not be driving because they do not appear to have the same abilities to multi-task that girls of that age do. A glance away at something else, just long enough to distract and require over-correction can be the instant of change.

It is a reminder that when we are behind the wheel, whether alone or driving with others, we have a huge responsibility to pay attention to the task at hand - driving. No texting, no getting directions, no passing toys to toddlers, no turning around to see where something is in the back seat, etc.

Bus drivers are not allowed to even have music on their busses because of the potential distraction, and they are carrying upwards of 40 people to their destinations.

There are so many things to pull our attention away... personal concerns, business issues, weather challenges and global news to suggest a few areas. As parents and grandparents we have the obligation to add to our instruction repertoire the importance of staying focused.

"Be here now," not be partly here and partly there... because your absence from my life will make my heart very heavy.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles....

The Cathedral de Immaculata Concepcion in Barichara.

I am finally back in the U.S., thanks in part to the 'benedicion' of Sra. Helena in Barichara, Santander, I feel certain. A trip that usually takes about 32 hours to complete, took me considerably longer and with significantly more expense than was expected. The reason? The national strike in Colombia... created by the unhappy campesinos (farmers) who are being undermined by their government's agreement to Fair Trade with the U.S.

A view from the Mirador area of Barichara, during a last
walk with my pal, Isabel. The clouds seemed to be as heavy
as my heart about leaving.

A coffee farmer or grower of onions, potatoes, etc. in Colombia cannot count on their government to ensure they will make a profit or a living wage when free trade allows for cheaper products to be imported from the U.S., undermining their efforts to sell well in the marketplace. This is the essence of the conflict. The farmers want subsidies or some kind of assurance they can sell their goods for what it cost them to produce them and have something left over for their families. It doesn't seem unreasonable to me.

Looming thunderstorms and late afternoon setting sun
created this wonderful contrast as seen from my apartment
in Barichara, a few days before leaving.

But the strike closed the main road to Bogota, making it impossible for me to get there, unless I was willing to ride as far as Tunja (about halfway) and then get off the bus and drag my suitcases (there were plenty of them!) about 7 kilometers in the hopes of finding another bus on the other side. Oh, and the 'war zone' of strikers had to be traversed as well - unhappy and resentful men who probably would assume it was a 'rich gringa' passing by them with all her luggage. Does this sound like a safe way to get to my destination?

Milk being delivered in Barichara.

So, I opted to catch the 5 a.m. bus to Bucaramanga from Barichara, almost three hours in the opposite direction, where it was possible to arrange a flight to Bogota, although many hours were spent waiting. leaving my bags in a secured storage unit at the bus station) into town and met up with a buddy from Barichara who took me to the virtual library near the Justice Center. There were even books from the U.S. and we spent some time looking at photos of places he was going to see when he visited in September.

Flowers still covered with the rain from the night before.

And I had to sacrifice my ticket for the bus to Bogota because the company had closed its service desk, knowing no one could travel. Once in Bucaramanga, I caught a taxi to meet up with my friend, Andres, who was also going to be flying to Bogota.

We had a nice walk about the area where he was staying, including a delightful lunch in the huge mall - Thank you, Andres!

Another time I would like to spend a few days in this city because there is much to see and it also has a long history in the growth of Colombia.

The virtual library in Bucaramanga and buddy, Andres,
crossing the street ahead of me.

 

In Bucaramanga travel was not restricted by the strike,
but there were a lot of sympathetic events and messages.

My ceramics professor, Jaime, and my buddy, Andres in
Bucaramanga. We were just walking back from the library
and saw Jaime who also lives in Barichara... small small world!

Usually I would catch the bus in San Gil (the nearest city to Barichara) timed to arrive at the bus terminal a few hours before my flight was scheduled. Then I would catch a taxi, arrive at the terminal and proceed to the JetBlue service desk, get my boarding pass, clear Immigration and be on my way. No need for a hotel room (sleeping on the bus wasn't ideal, but affordable).

Sunset view from the Nuevo Dorado hotel in Bogota.

This time, once I arrived in Bogota on Tuesday afternoon, I was still many hours too early for my flight on Wednesday morning. Camping at the airport might have been fine when I was 25 or 30, but not at my senior age, already tired from a day of traveling that started around 4 a.m. So I entrusted myself to the porter (and God's protection) to find someone with a hotel that would offer security and proximity to the airport. (Helena's benedicion was hard at work now...) A man was presented who offered a room in a clean and close small hotel called the Nuevo Dorado with a promise to provide taxi service back to the airport in the morning.

Hotel room showing twin beds, and there was another
room with a double. WiFi was free and everything was
very clean and proper. 10 minutes from the airport!

It actually was all that was promised, including a nice little restaurant with a very large dinner meal for less than $10 USD. The room ($160,000 COPs = $84 USD more or less) I was given could have slept four people easily and thus would have been wonderfully affordable for each person, but the greatest delight was that the shower had warm (not hot) water, much appreciated after the day's travel. It had a nice view of the streets below and I watched the sunset at 6 p.m. Sleep was elusive as the hotel is newly decorated with a lot of tile which caused the noise to reverberate down the halls to my door. Again, thanks to God and the alert night desk man, I had a call in for wake-up because my alarm failed me!! I scrambled out and down two flights of stairs (Did I mention there was no elevator?) and the desk clerk helped me get the luggage down the last flight of stairs to the taxi which was indeed on time.

I fell asleep remembering a nice walk to Steve's with tea,
laughter and a lovely sunset over the Andes.

Breathing heavily from the 8,000+ feet of altitude and a mouth as dry as burnt toast, we arrived at the other new El Dorado (airport) on schedule. Bags offloaded, porter found, I scurried like a cockroach under siege to the JetBlue desk, eager to leave the conflicts of Colombia behind me. The agent said, "We have no record of you on this flight." I showed her the confirmation code, and she kept saying, "I don't care if you have a confirmation code, you are not on this flight." She was about to tell me to move on, call the people in the U.S. and get it straightened out, and then come back when I said, "Do you still have a seat on this flight?"

This time the sunset was fused with delicate pinks.

She did and I purchased ANOTHER ticket. I know what it is like to try and talk to someone from another country and I knew the cost of my international phone bill could equal the cost of a seat. Screw it. Pay it and get out and solve it on the other side, I thought.

Taxiway in Bogota as we were departing. The new airport
is a pleasing improvement from the old one.

It wasn't until the plane was on the runway about to lift off that I finally was able to relax because I felt in my heart of hearts that the situation with the farmers was not going to be easily resolved and could escalate. (UPDATE 9/8/13: The situation is still volatile with the police sometimes creating more of a problem than a solution as in a recent report of tear gas and bombs being used on the protestors near Cauica, SW of Bogota.)

Last bit of sunlight reflected off a cloud somewhere over
the middle of the U.S. as I was flying westward.

Colombia is still a wonderful country filled with terrific people, but in all honesty I would have to say that the leadership lacks foresight and a true understanding of what negotiation is supposed to be. So, until the situation is stabilized, I will not be returning and cannot recommend traveling as a tourist to anyone at this time. It is unfortunate that the U.S. State Department makes no mention of this unrest in their Travel Advisories because it really does affect travel throughout the country.

The Dying Art of Sign Painting

Perhaps it goes back to the cave dwellers when paintings of deer, bear and other creatures was a way for the owner to advertise that he had smoked meat for sale, but it is clear that as we go more and more digital, we are losing certain artistic and hand-made skills.

Sign painter and mural artist Jackson
Smart talks about the tools of his trade.

As a Public Relations consultant years ago, I advised new businesses to think about how they were going to give their impression of what they were selling, which included signage. I worked with a few sign-makers in Boise, ID where my business was. However, even then I did not realize that, for the most part, the age-old apprenticeship program was how sign painters were trained. Tricks of the trade were not learned in books, but at the elbow of the master!

Recently I attended a presentation by a Port Angeles, WA, sign painter, Jackson Smart of SignArt Studio, demonstrating some of the learned techniques and the tools used, along with the paint construction. (The link is to an article in the Peninsula Daily News about Smart.)

There is a three-second rule for signs: it must be able to be seen and read, computed/internalized and a decision made in three seconds. "You are driving along the highway, see a sign and it either motivates you or you ignore it", Smart said. He added that it is not just letters, but colors and shapes, that convey the message and he is well known for his creative work around the Peninsula.

Smart demonstrates using a mahl stick to letter in script
style; it is used to keep hands and oils off the surface.

The Burma-Shave signs were inspired by the desire to sell. Started in 1925 to promote the shaving cream (purported to have ingredients from Burma), six signs placed in sequence along the highway originally sold the cream in little rhymes, but later offered safety messages.

One series I recall along the road from Peterborough, NH to Keene was this: Past / Schoolhouses / Take it slow / Let the little / Shavers grow / Burma-Shave. Although there wasn't actually a schoolhouse near where the signs were placed, we used to love to read them out loud as we rattled along to the lake, much to the irritation of the driver - usually our mother. Somehow even seeing them regularly didn't decrease our delight in this loud recognition of our reading ability.

Artist Smart uses a squirrel hair brush to demonstrate how
fine a line can be drawn with the right technique.

Increasing speeds, more sophisticated signage, television and other elements brought this roadside entertainment for the 'little shavers' to an end in the 60's. And just as the commercial elements of sign design were advancing, so was the looming digital age which would change it completely. And artist Smart opined that it is not just the digital age that is affecting sign painting skills, but there is a lack of desire on the part of the youth today to learn something that requires apprenticeship. "They want to be able to do it quickly. It requires learning about the shapes of letters, the distance between each letter, and the construction of the thinner and other chemicals in the paint and whether or not it is hot or cold outside, because that affects the performance of the paint, too." Smart says more and more signs are made on computer and fewer of the people who are making them have ever even used a brush.

Jackson Smart - an artisan and an artist - has painted on wood, metals, foam board, plastic and other materials. He has painted signs for businesses, on motorcycles, cars, trucks, and busses for a native american tribal casino as well as doing the Port of Port Angeles mural welcoming visitors from Canada.  As you enter Port Angeles from the East on Highway 101, you will see his sign greeting you to the city he has made home for the past 34 years. He is as much a part of the city as the signs and murals he has done here.

Ruta del Sol to be constructed in Colombia

This news was just announced by Colombia Reports:

"Colombia President Juan Manuel Santos on Friday announced 30 bids worth $22.65 billion for construction of the ‘Ruta del Sol’ motorway.

Part of the Ruta del Sol might cross over the
Chicamocha Canyon, This shot was taken on
the current road from Bucaramanga to Bogotá.

The motorway is set to link the Caribbean coast with the Pacific via Bogota. The World Bank recently cited poor transportation as one of the main factors of economic uncompetitiveness in Colombia, something an efficient transnational route will dramatically improve.

President Santos also announced that the $22.65 billion will only be delivered "when the works are...complete.” This addendum comes after numerous reports of infrastructure project funds being embezzled while the works go unfinished.

In addition to hopes of faster-paced construction, Santos claimed that the 'Ruta del Sol' project will create 5,000 jobs.

According to the Economist, "the costs of Colombia's deficient infrastructure -- which came 79 of 139 countries' networks ranked by the World Economic Forum -- are massive." Luis Carlos Villegas, the head of the national industry group, likened the infrastructure deficit to a 10-15% tax. Government planners added that resolving it could raise annual GDP growth by a full percentage point."

My hope is that some of those 5,000 jobs will be developed as 'intern' positions for students to learn more about projects like this and also for those young people who have no training but want to move up the construction ladder to become supervisors, etc.

No news about when it will be started, or how long it will take to be completed, but this is exciting news for the country. Truckers, carrying products, will be able to travel more easily from the north (Atlantic) to the south (Pacific) providing more driving jobs as well. I suspect it will open up more of the country for tourism as well.

On my own again

Looking back over the past 15 months I realize I have traveled over (approximately) 45,000 miles (!!) by air, boat and car with Jey-hu - the most I have ever traveled with anyone. He said the same was true for him and we both agreed it has been "a most interesting adventure." No regrets.

We part as friends, in spite of the volatile circumstances that drove a wedge between us. And today I begin a new journey, heading toward Florida on my own from Texas - one of the flattest states in the U.S. I am certain - and then I will re-pack for my return to Colombia.

Cartegena, Colombia as seen from the tour boat "Alcatraz."

My journey has taken me back and forth across the U.S., seeing wonderful places and eating great food as well as giving me a new view of South America and its people. These past few months have been rich in color as well as texture, providing me with plenty of photos for my new phase of working on my art.

When I look only at my 'label list' on this blog, I realize that from A-Z I have traveled a rich road even though not always spending much money to do so. I have become more flexible about sleeping arrangements, more tolerant of delays, more understanding of the people who provide services and more willing to try something new. These almost 450 days have been a way for me to grow in ways I could never have predicted ahead of time. So truly there are no regrets... but it will seem strange to be on my own again.

Travel Rant

I feel a rant coming on. My rant today is about traveling. On the way back from visiting Jey-hu's mother who took a tumble and got a terrible 'green-stick' fracture to her humerus (upper arm long bone), we saw an accident on the I-5 headed south. (So glad it wasn't on our side; and sorry if anyone was hurt.) However, if the accident was caused by someone with a couple of cats, dogs, children, texting on the phone, yelling at a passenger, or other distraction, I hope you realize you have inconvenienced over 200,000 people.

How did I come up with this figure? Well, some who know me know my math skills were never great, but Jey-hu can do multiplication and division in his head and this is how we arrived at the number.

There are 5280 feet in a mile. About 1800 cars will fit in that space, allowing for the fact that some cars are much shorter and trucks of course are much longer. Figuring on three lanes of traffic for one mile, that's 5,400 motorized vehicles of one size or another. But, the traffic jammed up for about 10 miles, so now we're talking about 54,000 vehicles with an average driver/passenger of 1.5, making 81,000 people fume. But their delay or frustration when they arrive home could affect another 2.5 people, so now we have a total of 200,000 more or less unhappy folks. All because one driver lost control of his or her responsibility.

AAA, in their recent Washington membership magazine, said that 'distractions' cause over 50% of the accidents today. Now in Washington it is illegal to be on the phone or texting, though some people still risk a ticket to do it. But yelling at a passenger (How successful is that?) can increase the risk of making a bad decision by 25% according to some study because the driver is focusing on the issue, not on driving. Traveling with pets which are not contained has caused problems as well, especially with cats. A woman in Texas was arrested and her 15 cats were removed from the vehicle because it was considered a serious hazard. She had to go to trial and the State won. Anyone who has traveled with even one cat knows how little tolerance that breed has for riding in cars. And sometimes traveling with a couple of kids is harder than having 15 cats.

All that being said, at least in the U.S. the roadblocks are quickly dispersed and drivers are on their way in a reasonable time... unlike China... 60 miles and nine days... read the link!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/38812252/ns/world_news-asiapacific?GT1=43001

So that is my rant for today... Please drive carefully; you could be affecting thousands!

(PS: the photo is of the bridge over Deception Pass here in Washington state.)

Sorry we were late, but...

There are lots of reasons why one might be late for an appointment in Colombia. It might be because you had to shower in a bucket because there wasn’t any water coming out of the spigot. Possibly it’s because of traffic - getting stuck behind large trucks on a narrow, winding road on the edge of a canyon that competes with the Grand Canyon for impressive heights and vast vistas means you have to wait for a chance to pass and the courage to do so. (There are few guardrails and the ones that are there are more for looks than function.)

But this is my favorite reason: yesterday we had to wait until a horse which had gotten loose was captured because it was standing in the middle of the road between the houses in Barichara. A few days ago it was the cattle shown in the picture above which impeded our forward progress. On the way to Bogota we were slowed down because of a herd of goats in the roadway had gotten free of the tethers which had them grazing along the roadside. There is plenty of visual entertainment while traveling in this charming country.

When driving on a back road over the hill to San Gil, we saw several uses of the Mother Mary statue which caught our eye. Unfortunately due to the wretched baud rate on the modem we use, we won't be able to post the pictures. One was planted in the middle of a pond very much in need of water and the other one was erected beside the road where there was a sharp turn (missing it would mean a quick trip down a very steep incline to the valley below) and several headlights had been placed at her feet, possibly as a reminder to make sure your lights are working before navigating this particular stretch of road at night.

In a week we head back to the U.S. to conclude some of our business affairs and to appeal to the Colombian Consulate for a retirement visa. We have determined that living here, while challenging on many fronts (language, culture, services) it is also richer and simpler at the same time. I discovered more time for my artistic energy and Jey-hu found a little more time - after dark - for reading just for pleasure.

There are 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness. People in the country tend to go to sleep around 7 or 8 and get up at 5 or 6. In the ‘metropolis’ of Barichara, everything gets pretty quiet after 9 p.m. (including the church bells) and it all starts up again around 5:30 a.m. I have to say that the country lifestyle is more appealing from the noise factor. We have been staying at a casa in Barichara to help the owners out by supervising some construction projects while they are away. It has given us a chance to determine that metro living is NOT for us. Here is a list of some of the noises which on one day - all at once - nearly put us over the edge:

• motorcycles, especially those where the operator is racing the motor
• Roosters crowing
• fireworks, mostly rockets
• dogs barking, then dogs howling (at the fireworks)
• crying children and laughing children - just outside the door of the casa
• electric saw trying to cut through Colombian wood (incredibly dense & heavy!)
• someone hammering something hard, probably Colombian wood
• cars with squeaking brakes
• trucks with loud horns
• church bells at 5:45 a.m., followed by more at 6, 7, 8 and 9 (yes, it was Sunday)
• male voice repeatedly calling out something that sounded like “mee-lah” and another
• male voice at full volume singing off key to Karaoke featuring loud Colombian music
• insect noises - like crickets chirping under the bed and
• mosquitoes buzzing around our heads

I’ve probably left a few out... but in the campo the list is shorter: crowing roosters, bellowing bulls, birds chirping and bug noises. All the city life noises can be heard out there but they are moderated by the dusty 2.5 kilometer distance so they are don’t have the same impact. And while we have bugs and mosquitos in the campo, I have to say that there seem to be more of them in the pueblo. And we don’t have netting here, so it’s hard to determine if the missing netting is the key to fewer bug bites or that there just are more of them.

We both agree we are going to miss the people we’ve met and the smells of the area which are generally very agreeable - blooming things, cooking things, and earth smells. We won’t miss the loss of inches and pounds that has happened here! (We’ve both lost at least 15 pounds.) I intend to continue studying Spanish and getting better at it and even Jey-hu has been able to learn a few phrases and said he realizes he has to learn a few more. Never having studied a foreign language of any kind before, it’s harder to wrap his mind - and tongue - around unusual sounding words. Just ask him to say “tree” in Spanish...

(This view is from San Jose Alta, on a road high above the campo looking back toward Barichara, approximately 6,000 feet.)

Next week I start a new adventure...

In just one week I will heading to Colorado by car, making a cross-country trip to catch up with old friends and meet new ones. The trip does have a purpose and some direction beyond the Front Range, and it may even include getting up to Vancouver or farther into Canada, depending. Depending on what, you ask? My sense of whether or not I feel called to go there.

The decision to go was actually easier than packing up... asking myself, "Should I take this jacket? Can I do without that item?" I'm also spending some time in-between packing reading a story which makes my choosing seem terribly indulgent: "Sarah's Key" is about a Jewish girl in 1936 Paris who is pulled from her house, sent to a concentration camp, escapes and.... but you'll have to read it yourself. Her survival with less than nothing keeps bringing me back to this message: try to simplify and take less.

Nevertheless, I am taking all my cameras, my laptop and a printer because I do have some ideas for generating some stories and possibly some income while on this journey. It's a wonderful treat to be able to have both time and resources to create this adventure and I hope to share a lot of it with those readers who care to come along.

The photo is of one of the red-tailed hawks that can be found shrieking around in my neighborhood like teenagers peeling out in old cars. They are nearly grown now and while I will miss their calls, I feel good that I got to watch another batch get launched this spring. We're all off to higher ground.