Gringa in a Foreign Land

Ole, y'all! The adventure continues in Mexico! When my friend Paula decided to move to Mexico last year, she suggested I come down and see how I liked it as a possible residence; she had already decided to become "permanente." While visiting in August-September, I found a wee casita for less than $300/month (!), all inclusive (even WiFi), and signed a year's lease. So here I am.

The photo at left is the Church of San Andres (Saint Andrew), in the village of Ajijic (Ah-hee-HEEK), where Paula lives. The one pictured right is closer to where I live, in a subdivision called La Floresta, near San Antonio de Tlayacapan (we just call it San Antonio). It is the church of San Antonio de Padua, patron saint of the village. Every village has one--a patron saint and a church.

I've been waiting until I felt a bit more settled to resume this blog, but yesterday I realized stories are happening while I'm getting settled. For example, transportation issues are a constant reminder that I am living in a foreign country.

Yesterday I attended the semi-monthly ladies luncheon with the Mujeres del Lago, which is a story in itself. Afterward I walked to the taxi stand to catch a ride back to La Floresta. Normally, I would have walked a couple blocks farther and taken the bus, but it had been sprinkling rain on and off for several hours, and although I usually carry a shoulder bag with umbrella--in case of rain or sun--today I have only a very small purse. A taxi costs less than $4, so it's worth an occasional splurge.

I arrive at the taxi stand on the plaza and the only available cab is leaving to pick up another fare, so I wait around to see if someone will come and drive one of the other cabs parked there. Ten minutes later, with no cabbie in sight, I decide to walk to the bus stop, where I am pretty sure I can at least get shelter from the rain.

Buses usually run about every 15 minutes, but today, nada. Fifteen minutes pass, then 20. There is a sizable crowd waiting now. When a bus finally arrives it is already full, with people in the aisle, but I try to move to the back without too much pushing. "Con permisso," I say politely as I inch my way closer to the back door. The ride is not long and I need to be ready to give the driver the 'stop' signal, which is located on one of the grab bars near the back door. (Unlike American buses, there is no signal at every seat, or even every other seat, and you must stand to reach this one.)

So I'm standing in the aisle, in the middle of the bus, hanging on with both hands to a bar that is above my head, stooping to look for my stop out the front window of the lurching bus, while also trying desperately at this point to move to one of the exits. As I politely push past a lady with a couple baskets full of some kind of wares in the middle of the aisle, I look up and realize there was a signal button at the place I had been standing, now out of reach. So I squeeze back past the lady with the baskets (I hear grumbling en espanol as I pass--something to do, no doubt, with my being a large American person) and make it to the button. The bus slows down, but I'm not as close to my stop as I would like, because of the rain, so I shout at the driver to continue (while a young man standing nearby mumbles, "Just get off here.") I should have listened, because we quickly accelerate, and I am whisked away, far beyond my stop, to Walmart, still stuck swaying in the middle of the bus.

Now there are Walmart shoppers, with their goods, trying to push their way on board, and we are already two deep in the aisle where I am standing. I can't move. Why isn't anyone getting off at the back, I wonder? Finally, I shout "I need to get out. Let me out please!" (More grumbling, possibly swearing, en espanol.) I shove my way to the front, thank the driver, and I'm on the street in the rain.

As I walk home, I remember someone telling me early on, "You just have to shove your way to where you want to be. It's how it's done here." Transportation Lesson #2 learned.

Lesson #1 was inadvertently insulting my taxi driver. I won't bore you with the details.

Greetings!
If you are looking for my pet portrait gallery, I've moved it to Flickr, so look to the right and use the web address shown there to access Flickr, or just click here.

Apparently, I am not blogging any more, no matter how much I think maybe I should/could. It just doesn't interest me, now that I am no longer traveling in the motor home. The road trip is over and now I'm just living my life here in beautiful downtown Asheville, NC. Life is good for me. I hope it is for you, too.

So long for now,
Lila

Day One

This is the Peace Quote for today:

Every minute life begins all over again.
- Thomas Merton

Which means that every minute, we get a do-over. How cool is that? Think about it. You say something hurtful or stupid: you immediately apologize or re-state in a better way. You eat something not on your diet. You sneak a cigarette. In other words, you make a mistake. The Universe doesn't count it because it's over and done with. Move on. No regrets or self-recriminations. Just move on to the next thing, and the next. No looking back. Only forward. Maybe things will be better this time, or next time. But even if it takes a bunch of next times to get it right, there's no reason not to keep on moving forward. The Universe only counts what happens right   now   now   now   now

As my friend Patti Digh says (and she got it from someone else), "Every day is Day One." It's really very comforting when you stop to think about it. Why would we ever feel guilty or remorseful when every moment of every day is presented as a moment to begin again? A chance to do it better...if we'll only take it and move forward.

Apparently, I put this blog address on my new business cards, for my Reiki business. Does that mean I must now write something Reiki-y on my blog so you'll have something to read having to do with Reiki when you come to the site? Seems like a good idea. Perhaps writing something about Reiki, or along the lines of health and healing, or meditation, or whatever, will encourage me to actually take the time to do that. It's better than reading the morning paper and doing the puzzles, I guess.

So for today, while I wait for my next client, I'll just say, Welcome to Being Lila, Reiki Edition. If you are looking for Being Lila, Pet Portrait Edition, you've come to the right place also. There's a gallery of my colored-pencil portraits in the post below this one.

If you're wandering back to this blog looking for its previous incarnation as a travel journal, I'm not in the motor home anymore. Moored to solid, immovable brick and mortar in Asheville, and loving it. I get to see things like this waterfall whenever I want to. What made me think I ever wanted to live anywhere else?!

Stay tuned for more tomorrow, or perhaps after this weekend, as I am working with a local nonprofit on a fundraiser happening Sunday and I'm really busy. They're letting me lead kids on a scavenger hunt! What fun!

Blessings...

Pet Portraits

Pet Portraits, a set on Flickr.

My blog photo gallery is under construction. Meantime, you can see my pet portraits here. Don't YOU need a keepsake of your constant companion?

Premium Business Cards by Vistaprint

I hope you will come back soon for my latest musings about the gift of Reiki (and other stuff).

Heeeeere's Mojo!

Hey! It's been a long time, eh? After that last message (June 2010!) I took grandson Austin to Nova Scotia and back: 6,000 miles in 6 weeks. Whew! That's a long trip for an ADHD 12-year-old but he was a good soldier, and so was Nanny. I had to plan every waking minute to keep him from being bored, which was quite a change from my usual trip-planning routine. But we had a ball and got LOTS of pictures, which I have put into three albums for Austin to remember it by. To the left is a Nova Scotia sunset.

So that takes us to August 2010. After that I traveled back to the Pacific Northwest, with many stops along the way (and the best caverns I saw in all my travels: Caverns of Sonora, Texas). I spent a very snowy Christmas in Seattle then moved on to Portland for about four months. I made some great new friends, reacquainted with my old pals Glea and Sue, and thought about settling down right there.

But then May 2011 came and it was still cold and rainy. Hmmm...

My friends back in Asheville were enjoying some really fine spring weather and I just couldn't resist. I sold Michelle (got 10 calls the first day she was listed on Craigslist), shipped my stuff and flew back to Asheville.

And here I am, living in a historic building downtown (photo left) with a bunch of old folks. Well, I fit right in, although I am surely one of the youngest residents. I love it.

I have my daughter's dog, Mojo, here with me and he is an essential part of my new routine. If it weren't for him I wouldn't be getting nearly as much exercise, and that pain in my hip would surely be more bothersome.

I haven't decided whether or not to continue this blog as I don't have much to report and I'm not really interested in "waxing philosophical" about the joys and sorrows of old age. I'm not especially political, and even though I could probably write an amusing account of life at Battery Park Apartments, I'm not sure I want to use my energy in that way.

All this to say that this may be the end of the road, except for my pet portrait business, which I am going to try to market (again), although as I see those words on the screen, it makes me shudder. I love doing art but not selling art. A wise person once said we should do what we do and pay others to do what they do, so maybe that is the key for me: pay someone to do the marketing. Trouble is, of course, that I don't have money to pay someone and won't have money until I sell some art. Catch-22.

Anyway...hope your life is all you want it to be. If you're ever in downtown Asheville, stop by. Mojo and I are usually here.

Mindlessness: What Happens When You Don't Pay Attention

I'm having one of those days (no, that's not really me in the photo). I made a great new vegan recipe--Noodles in Thai Curry Sauce--in my current host's kitchen (air conditioned), put in into a bowl he had sitting on the counter so I could take it outside to eat, dropped what turned out to be his grandmother's bowl, broke it and dumped out all the great food I'd just made all over the back steps.

A few minutes ago grandson Austin called to ask why I wasn't there to pick him up for the play I promised to take him to at 4:00 (it was 3:57)...sigh...I was really sad until he called back and invited me to come over for tacos at his house (a favorite of mine) but then I remembered that I don't eat meat any more. Sheesh. Guess I'll just have to stop by the store for some tofu on the way. Things are looking up.

Poetry Saturday

The third annual Asheville WordFest happened last weekend. When I saw in the newspaper that there would be a Poetry Scavenger Hunt on Saturday (what might that be?), I called grandson Austin to see if he wanted to join me.

I didn't bother to tell Austin about the poetry part, just that "an event" was being held downtown at the Thomas Wolfe Memorial. Author Thomas Wolfe's boyhood home, which he immortalized in his novel Look Homeward Angel, is a favorite destination for Austin and me. One of the things he and I have had in common since he was about eight years old is visiting old houses and other historical sites. We've seen the log cabin birthplace of Civil War-era North Carolina governor Zebulon Vance. We've been through the house and grounds of the Biltmore Estate. And we both like to hear the story of how young Thomas Wolfe didn't know if he would have a place to sleep in his mother's boarding house on any given night, the house often being filled to capacity with paying strangers.

The Poetry Scavenger Hunt turned out to be a search for inspiration and ideas that would become a poem. We were sent out into the crisp morning air, on foot, with strict instructions to find three things each that came through our five senses. I immediately conjured up a favorite morning taste and smell, and suggested we find a coffee shop. Austin was agreeable and we set off.

The first place we came to was actually a favorite all-day breakfast restaurant, but the wait was 30 minutes (it being Saturday at 10:30 a.m., time for the Friday night crowd to be wanting their first meal of the day) so we moved on. Another place I had in mind had closed for good (Asheville is a town in flux even in the best of economic times), but just up the street was a place I knew would be perfect: lots of sights, sounds and smells.

It didn't take long, over coffee and lemonade, for us to have our list of 15 items completed. Then it was back to Wolfe House to put it all together into a poem. Here's the result:

The Coffee Shop

Mmm, coffee and brownies,
With sausage thrown in:
Three of the best smells.
Sour lemonade
In a cold, icy glass.
Conversation between families
All around.
The juicer, like a lawnmower,
Cuts greens into a glass
For the lady in the
Yellow and orange flowered pants.
The coffee maker gargles,
Rich and dark,
Into a warm mug,
Bringing good breakfast memories.
The kaleidoscope floor makes me happy.

Later, in the evening, the poetry continued at a downtown church. My morning poetry pal was not with me and I wished I had invited him because he might have enjoyed it. Mark Doty was there, and Pulitzer-winner Natasha Trethewey, along with a local favorite, performance poet and educator Glenis Redmond. The last poet was Flying Words Project, a duo: one hearing and one deaf who told poems in sign language. It was a wonderful experience, but it couldn't touch making a poem with Austin in the coffee shop with the kaleidoscope floor.

Did You Miss Me?

Hi! I just read my last post and realized that I kinda left ya hangin'. I've not done much of note since Nov. 27 but here's what you missed.

The injury I referred to in my last message was sustained when I tripped and fell on a hardwood floor on Thanksgiving Day. I jammed my left elbow (rather than spraining my wrist, which is the usual injury for us old folks). I am not 100% back to normal but at least I can brush my teeth and my hair with my dominant hand--oh yes, and get a fork to my mouth (didn't lose a pound). And I can type.

The new business venture I mentioned was a momentary lapse of good sense. What do I want to start a new business for? I'm retired! If I decide to do any work it certainly won't be as a small business owner. Maybe a couple days a week of volunteering...

Okay, what else? This was hardly worth booting up the computer. My plan for the next four months is to find something to keep me from going stir crazy and then take grandson Austin with me on a summer-long trip to New England and Canada. After that, who knows? Being here for all these weeks has made me realize that I'm not ready to settle down in Asheville, wonderful as it is. So...onward!

Finally...

The photos are up. I've injured my writing hand. More later...

Last of the Travel Photos

It already seems so long ago that I was out there on the open road. My trip from Memphis, through Nashville (had to settle for photos: no time to find the museum where they sell the postcards), and on to Chattanooga was uneventful. I enjoyed the Tennessee Aquarium immensely and was there early in the day so I almost had the place to myself. Unfortunately, I only had a couple of hours to spend so that I could get to Asheville before dark.

The main reason for going through Chattanooga was to detour around a HUGE rock slide on I-40 in the Pigeon River Gorge. They say it's 150 feet tall and will take 3-6 months to remove. It's not the first time this has happened in the Gorge and it probably won't be the last. I decided to take a southerly detour rather than the northern one that most of the 18-wheelers are taking. In fact, I recall having to take the northern route on my first trip to Asheville from Minneapolis in 1996, and for exactly the same reason. We followed a line of big trucks down a two-lane mountain road (now widened and hooked into I-26), with the smell and smoke of overheated brakes in the air. The southern detour was MUCH nicer (see sidebar photos) and as I drove eastward towards the mountains, the tree-covered, rolling hills beckoned me onward.

I returned to Asheville just in time to attend a little soiree at the home of friends Jan and Paula. Jan (whose photo will appear in the right sidebar presently) had heart surgery about a month ago to correct a previously undiagnosed congenital heart defect that had progressively disabled her for the past 7 years. It's an amazing tale, too long to go into here, and she definitely belongs on that cable TV show about medical mysteries. Suffice to say, she has been brought back from death's door and we are all very glad to have her with us.

Last week I emptied and flushed Michelle's black and gray water tanks, then gave her a thorough washing with help from grandson Austin. It was an all-day project and I was pooped, so I didn't get the fresh water tank drained, which I must do before the temps get below freezing; I will also need to run a special RV antifreeze into the lines.

This week I've been helping daughter Liz do some major re-organizing in her tiny apartment, and have enjoyed visiting with her family and helping out with the cooking. She works several 12- to 14-hour day shifts a week as a hospital RN; Sean works several 12-hour night shifts a week for the Sheriff's Dept. as a detention officer, so there've been some poor eating habits established, understandably. Besides, I do like to cook, especially in a real kitchen with a regular oven.

I'll be moving in with my friend Cathy when her house closes the day before T'giving, at which time Michelle will cease to be my primary abode and become my sole means of transportation. I look forward to settling in for the winter and helping Cathy decorate her new space. We also will be planning a really BIG new business venture that I'll say more about later.

That's all for now. Time to fix Austin some breakfast: doing the Nanny thing again...nice.

Those Photos I Promised

Here's the Flagstaff to Arkansas leg of the trip, which should keep you busy for a while (in the right sidebar). I have Memphis to Asheville to work on next, which will keep me busy. Later...

Going Home

No excuses. I guess I just got out of the mood to write, for a really long time. Glad I'm not trying to be a real writer: too much pressure. The new retired me doesn't want to do anything that HAS to be done.

The month of October flew by: the vertigo subsided (although I still feel a slight lingering dizziness on occasion); I went to the RVing Women convention in San Antonio, where my sessions were well received and I met a lot of great traveling women; I visited my friends in Austin; I arrived in Memphis Friday evening; I'm leaving for Asheville in a couple of days. I've decided to spend the holidays, and on into spring, with loved ones. Fortunately, a friend will close on her house next week and has invited me to share her space for as long as I want. Everything has fallen into place to make my homecoming work out right. I'm looking forward to spending the winter in a place where it will snow a few times and melt in a couple days each time. It's beautiful but not bothersome. I'll drain Michelle's water and holding tanks and use her as my everyday vehicle. I'll cruise for chicks and invite them in for hot toddies and a look at my travel photos. Smile.

I might change the theme of this blog while I'm "in port." Look for something different after I get settled in my new digs.

Meanwhile, I'll take a look at my photos and pick out some that you might enjoy. Nice to be back.

The Texas Capitol Dome

Head 'Em Up, Move 'Em Out!

I certainly didn't get much blogging done in September, did I? Here it is October 5 already. Time to plan my route to San Antonio for the big RVing Women National Convention. Should I take the southern route or head due east to Albuquerque? I've planned it both ways but I think I'll go east so I can get that souvenir capitol building postcard in Santa Fe. And I'll stop off in Madrid, NM, to see if it is still as cute as it was when I first saw it in 1995. At that time my partner and I were looking around for a warmer place to live than Minneapolis, and we thought Santa Fe might be the place. Alas, not enough trees and water for either of us, so we ended up in Asheville, NC, still my home base.

Lots to do and little time before I go, so I'll just put up a few photos of brother Steve's and my overnight camping trip to the Canyon with his pals Jeff and Rhonda. I love tent camping, and was looking forward to being with "Mr. Stuff" out in the wilderness. But it was so windy that the camping was not very good: no breakfast for starters, which is my favorite campout meal. At least we made it into the Canyon this time, if not very far, so I can now claim to have hiked the Grand Canyon.

But we had a great breakfast; don't think we didn't, in the restaurant at Bright Angel Lodge, built in 1935. Steve says it hasn't changed since the first time he was there in 1981, including the front of the menu. Some things you can count on.

Jeff and Rhonda headed back to Flagstaff and Steve and I headed for the Bright Angel Trailhead, where we arrived just as a mule train returned, carrying passengers who had been all the way down to Phantom Ranch, on the Colorado River, and back, a ride of about three hours.

Being with Steve, who, as I said in a previous post, has hiked the Canyon 20 or 30 times, and rafted the Colorado twice, was a big treat for me. I only wish I had done it back when I might have been able to put on a pack and do it for real.





Mules have right-of-way.















One sign we saw told the story of a world class runner who tried to cross the Canyon rim to rim without enough water. She didn't make it.



If you look closely at the second level down from the top of this rock formation you'll see people, which helps to give perspective to our location inside the Canyon.



The Bright Angel Trail from where I was, near the beginning.









Bright Angel Trail from the south rim. The trees are growing in what is known as Indian Gardens. The trail forks right, down into the Canyon, to Phantom Ranch.












Back up from the warmth of the Canyon, carrying my jacket, which I needed again as soon as I reached the rim, where the wind that day was fierce and the temperature was much lower than inside the Canyon. Many hikers returned wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

Onward. Much to do and it's already 3:45. More later, from the road.

Feeling Puny

No, it's not the flu, not yet anyway. It's vertigo. I had an attack of dizziness last September and now it's returned but it feels different this time, more menacing, with nausea. The onset was different also: I woke up Thursday morning, sat up, and was immediately knocked back down onto the pillow by some unseen force--ka-whump! I thought I had sat up too suddenly and lost blood flow to my head, so I laid there for a minute and everything seemed okay. I went into the house and was puttering around in the kitchen when I became dizzy and had to sit down. But it didn't go away this time.

According to one web article I found, which I am unable to find again, the cause is likely some sort of flotsam floating around somewhere in my inner ear, a calcium flake from my mastoid bone or something, and it's got into my semi-circular canal, irritating the nerve endings. One treatment is to lie down with my head hanging over the edge of the bed and wait for the junk to float up into the vestibule, out of the canal. I haven't tried it yet but my sister says a friend of hers who suffers chronically with this condition uses the technique.

Anyway, long story short: Since symptoms were present upon rising and improved throughout the day, I decided to see what would happen if I slept sitting up on Steve's couch. It worked, so I did it for two nights. No symptoms yesterday or today. Tonight I will return to my bed and hope for the best. If it happens again I guess I'll find a doctor. Cross your fingers.

Yesterday Steve and I visited the local Arboretum, which was rather a disappointment except for the raptor show. Click to enlarge.

This is a Harris Hawk.










In flight. Beautiful










American Kestrel. So tiny that a house cat can bring it down.










Siberian Eagle Owl, largest of all the owls. Its predominant feature is it's beautiful orange eyes.












It can turn its head even farther around than this: about 270 degrees.












That's the nature lesson for today, boys and girls. There will be a test tomorrow.