Touring Loja, Ecuador in No Time Flat

Apparently, Loja has not compelled me to sit at the computer, to write about our experiences. Quite honestly, I am slightly underwhelmed, but this could be a déjà vu experience of what happened in Cuenca in 2013. Our choice of accommodations may have left me cold for all other experiences. It was not until 2015 that I really appreciated, in fact, loved Cuenca. No number of years will raise the scale to loving Loja, but it is enjoyable for what it is.

Tuesday, we took the tour bus. At the tourism office, they claimed it would cost $5 per person, the same as in Cuenca. The first departure of the bus is 11am. Ready and eager, we asked the ‘guide’ if we could get off at one spot and catch the

next bus a few hours later. No, sorry! You get on the bus, go the entire route, you get off the bus. End of story. Then it turned out to be $6, not five. How can it be more expensive than Cuenca? Are you kidding me? This is a smaller city. Fine, we paid it.

As it turned out, Ron and I were the only two people on the entire bus. Due to the bus not stopping at other points in the city, there was no chance for anyone to join the tour. The likely reason is that you only get one go around; it is not an all-day ticket. It would be impossible to track people coming and going.

The guide spoke negligible English and stood directly in front of the two of us with a microphone. He could have spoken to us without props, but he must have been following company rules that required the use of the mic. Feeling ridiculous, I occasionally turned to verify no one was secretly occupying other seats. Rather than the microphone aiding in enunciating his speech, it just made it worse. On top on this, he had a habit on recreated verb tenses. Instead of made, he said made-ed and builted. Strangely, he did the same thing with regular and irregular verbs. With each new kink in his speech, it made-ed my mind wander and wonder how he learned English.

After an hour and a half, we were departing ways from our

guide. I with a sense of being distracted more than educated, there was no opportunity to retrace our route with a different guide. That said there were some highlights that were comprehensible. On one corner of the city, they built a castle like structure to pinpoint one of the old cornerstones of a city wall. Across the street is a wonderful mural, but one will observe that none of the people have eyes. As a tribute to his blind father, the artist purposefully composed this art piece this way.

In another area, where the treat was to view one of the best

panoramas of the city, we were also privy to one of the strangest private homes we have seen. It resembles a castle. Thinking it had to be an ex-pat gone wild, like the Dutch couple in Boquete, Panama, I was wrong. This is Ecuadorian built and owned.

Espresso coffee cafés are as rare as hen’s teeth, but from the bus, I spotted what looked like a significant find. We headed

back there once off the bus. It was an excellent find with a proud owner who displays the entire process on one wall. After enjoying an excellent cappuccino, we could continue our exploration.

Discovering the Museo de la Musica, with free admission, why not explore it. Most rooms had multiple photos and displays of various famous Ecuadorian musicians. Quizzically, there were few instruments on display. Not one musician was recognizable by our US education, but there were DVDs available of all of their recordings. Interestingly, there was only one woman in the main display rooms. There was nothing in English.

However, one large room had a wall filled with female musicians of all genres. However, it is telling that this room also happened to be the dining room for the cafeteria. The kitchen adjoins it.

Calle Lourdes is the street famous for stores and doors that are brightly painted. If you have ever seen the Painted Ladies of San Francisco, this is a similar concept.  They are lovely to view from the distance as well as walking down the street. However, the shops themselves have similar trinkets, jewelry, and other money wasting souvenirs that are available just about everywhere else in the city of Loja or anywhere else in Ecuador. As much as I love shopping, by the second store I was bored.

No day in Ecuador would be complete without visiting churches. Of course, this means Catholic churches, but I

honestly do not mind. I find the décor in each highly individualistic and often times creative. There is a repetitive theme here, the Virgin of El Cisne or Virgin of the Swan. This has almost become mythic in proportions.

The town of El Cisne is in the mountains, 70 kilometers from Loja. Apparently, there is a Marian shrine there. Envious of the shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico City, the people of El Cisne wanted their own shrine. The locals commissioned sculptor Don Diego de Robles to create the Virgin de El Cisne statue, which he did using a cedar tree. The story goes that once delivered to El Cisne, there was rain, after a long drought. This was considered a miracle.

Droves of people, by the thousands, begin a three-day pilgrimage ever year on August 17th. They start in El Cisne leading a religious procession to Loja. The six-foot tall cedar statue of the virgin is transported to the Loja cathedral. A major festival begins on September 8. The statue lives in the Loja cathedral November 3 when it is returned to El Cisne.

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Nineteen Years Ago

Nineteen years ago today: 

September 3, 1993 we decided to become a couple. We were in San Francisco, so we stopped at the San Francisco Brewing Company for a home-crafted beer. Then we progressed to the place where we made this momentous decision was a restaurant in San Francisco called The Stinking Rose. Their motto was "We add some food to our garlic.

We lived in the US for the first 8 years of our lives and in Budapest for the next 11 years. Who would have guessed?

This is us in 1993 at Ron's best friend's place. He had predicted it would only last 6 months.

 To celebrate, we went to the Sufni Kert for a beer and then to Menza for dinner. Although it may not seem terribly exciting, we will be going to Ecuador in December for a month with an 8 day cruise of the Galapagos interspersed. That more than makes up for it. Since 1993, we have traveled to over 50 countries and many of the US States.

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The Last of the Bus Rides

The absolute last bus ride for this trip was the one we took today from Queenstown to Dunedin. Five and a half hours on the bus with one stop for coffee, lunch, and a bathroom break. Grueling, but the scenery did not disappoint us at all, once again keeping us glued to the window.  Ron kept mentioning that we arrive at 12:30pm and had a wildlife tour booked for 3:30pm. Although he repeated this multiple times both in Budapest and as we traveled, the information sat on the surface of my thinking like oil sits on own water, never mixing.

When we arrived in Dunedin, the hostel turned out to be farther than we wanted to walk with suitcases. Dunedin is so hilly, laying claim to having the world’s steepest street; the city makes San Francisco look like Iowa, flat as a pancake. My idea of fun has never included carting luggage up mountains, but then again I am not into sporty events. TAXI!! The taxi must charge by the hill. We were shocked at the cost/distance ratio, but again the hills are significant, so it was that or hitchhike. 

Our room was ready upon our arrival, so we had time to stretch before climbing into another motor vehicle. Good thing, because the information that really did not penetrate was the fact that the tour was for 6 hours. They will get us at 3:20pm and not return us until 9:30pm. What seemed highly unlikely was that Ron planned this. He who is against all forms confinement made these plans, booked and paid for them before we left Europe. What has gotten into this man? He was like a little kid, really looking forward to this. I could go either way. Seals and penguins are fun, but we have seen both in South Africa multiple times, Australia, and Tierra del Fuego at the tip of Argentina. Could these seals and penguins be that much different? 

Ride around, ride around, picking up others along the way really cuts into the “tour” time. When a tour operator tells you this is an 8 hour tour, you have to cut off an hour for picking everyone up and an hour for letting everyone off at the end of the day. During this ride around, one of the two guides informs us that they hope we have good shoes, because we are going to have to do some climbing up and down steep hills. Whoa, Buster! Hold it right there. Now that we are in the van is not the time to tell us that we needed good hiking/climbing shoes. I look at Ron and ask him “Did you know we were supposed to have good hiking shoes?” I am still not sure whether or not I believe him, but he said “TripAdvisor said to have comfortable shoes.” We are both wearing Crocs, which are fabulous for everyday wear walking. They are not suitable for mountain climbing, at least not the style I brought with me.

Panic starts to set in. Not only do I not have appropriate shoes, we have been warned that hiking is involved. I take to hiking like a duck takes to quicksand. No one that knows me well has ever associated me with heavy physical exertion for work or for fun. Everyone who knows me well knows that I believe the devil is behind that E word (whisper it – exercise). Though I may be build like a Mack truck, I don’t have any horsepower; I can’t even claim pony power. I am a thinker, not a do-er. This is the main reason I don’t watch any sports either. All of that exertion being displayed just wears me out.

Tim, one of our guides is at the front of a twenty-three person van shouting out “If anyone thinks they may have problems with this ‘walk’ let us know now.”  We are sitting in the absolute last seat in the back of the van. Like I am going to announce to the masses that I am an exercise wimp, who is not certain about survival during this field trip; I think not. The penguins and seals in all other countries had the decency not to make us go over hill and dale to view them. They were all within easy walking distance. How rude New Zealand wild life is. 

We drive through a sheep ranch to finally reach this cliff where Mexican cliff divers could practice from it is so high. Masses of sheep are all around us, but there are gates to keep them from throwing themselves to the rocks and waters below. They are all going baaaaaaa in unison. All I hear is a chorus of BAAAAAAAD as in bad news for you bucko. This is not the event you have been living for. With great stoicism, I follow the leader, thinking “This is not so bad.” However, what goes down, in this case must come up again and since no escalator magically appeared, I am in big trouble. Glacier experiences are rushing past my eyes. I envision a scarlet letter on my chest, a big S for Slug. Snap, snap, snap, the guide is speaking, but I am busy getting all of the pictures I think I will ever want, need, or care to have. When he takes a breath, I inform him I am getting a head start on the return journey. It seemed likely that even with a twenty minute head start; the tail end of the group could still by-pass me on their return. Wow, I made it up before they did. Pat me on the back. It only two times to stop to gasp for air. This outdoor activity must be improving my breathing. 

The group finally returns. Gosh, they were so slow getting back. One of the guides unlocks the van, causing a knee-jerk reaction for me to climb in. He stops me, telling me he only needed a hat, but we were not ready to go yet. The Yellow-Eyed penguins were down another cliff on the opposite side of the car park. Near them, but not living with them were the Blue penguins. What a rainbow assortment of penguins they have here. What the hell, can’t they just get along with the seals congregating in one viewing area? Sean, the second guide looks at me and says, this hill is not as steep a slope, so it should be easier for you. With some bravado I started down the hill. It was like descending the seven layers of hell, but by level 4, ultimate and everlasting misery, I had had enough. Not only were there 3 more layers to descend, but what I didn’t know at the time was that then a trek followed covering another mile or more. Yellow-eyed penguins are only found here in New Zealand. Could I live without ever seeing yellow-eyed penguins? You bet I can. Prompting Ron to continue, I was standing on the hill in a 45 degree angle now certain whether which direction I was going fall in. It was either going to be flat on my face or my ass.
 

Climbing back up was worse the second time around. Ten steps, stop, rest, gasp for air, think about whether or not my travel insurance covers cremations or not. Ten more steps, same routine, but wonder if I have told Ron where I hid the travel cash. Finally reaching the top of the hill, there is a small herd of sheep waiting to greet me. They all look up, stare at me and flee like they had a premonition I was a butcher or one of THOSE types of shepherds, if you get my drift. 

I am up at the van waiting for the others, thinking how long could they possibly be. Hmm…I seem to remember one of the guides saying something about us being there for 2 ½ hours. That was forty-five minutes ago. The sun was shining, but the wind was blowing furiously. If I stayed warm in the sun, the wind was pushing me around like a bully on the playground. A shove in the back with an “I dare you. What are you going to do about it?” There were enough boulders that I was able to make a makeshift seat with the sun shining, but with a smidgen of shelter from the wind. It was so windy that one of the guides left with brown hair only to return with it white. He said he could see the color flying into the air as the wind blew it out of each hair shaft. 

So it is me and the sheep and I have to pee. Sean, the guide announced we could leave what we wanted on the van since he would lock it up. He said it is only us and the sheep up here and the sheep are fairly honest. The last I looked, the group was down the mountain and about ¼ mile down the beach. With my telescopic lens on my camera at the highest power, they still looked like ants marching to their hill. No one around, I didn’t think the sheep were going to care if I peed in front of them. Checking to make sure the group is not returning in some unexpected direction, I finally decide it is okay. Half-way through the euphoric I have been waiting too long to pee pee, two new tour groups show up out of nowhere. From the dance I did, if they were not paying full attention, they could very well have thought they caught me in the act being baaaaaad in public. Regardless, I kept a low profile behind the van.

When my group returned forty-five minutes later, it was like having angelic visitations. There is nothing I wanted more than to get out of there. Ron loved the Yellow-eyed penguins; they never had any sighting of the Blue penguins that burrow in the ground, but did not make a showing. All of this fun, yet the tour was still not over. There was still a visit the albatross research center to see albatross. Arriving at the center fifteen minutes before closing was perfect. See the center, read the info, witness an albatross flying around, get on the van and go away, far away where there is less wind. We close the center, but Sean has a lecture to give on the albatross outside on the cliff with 50 mile an hour winds blowing us around as if we were tottering bowling pins during an earthquake. After twenty minutes, Sean announces that Tim will unlock the van for those of us freezing and the rest can stay with him to listen to the rest of his monologue. He is left with 3 people while the rest of the horde was smart enough to get shelter.
 

As they are dropping people off at their preferred stops, the two guides said “Thank you for coming. We hope you had a good time.” They repeated this for each small group they dropped off. We asked that they leave us at a bar. I for one needed a beer to shake off the day. As I got out of the van, I waited for the “Thank you for coming. We hope you had a good time”, but all I received for my troubles was “Bye!”. The beer that followed was excellent, though.

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Well, It Is Now Off to Wellington

Moving day again! We are leaving Napier today for Wellington on a 1:30pm bus. We have the morning to roam the city, so we spend an hour or so in the public library. For a small city, the library is well stocked with all of the ingredients one would expect from a library: books, magazines, DVDS, books on tape and more. Just as impressive are the numbers of people utilizing the services. There was one elderly lady who had her cane with her, but did not need it due to the library providing little shopping carts to carry the books to the check-out counter. She had 8 books in her cart and was still pulling off of the shelves. From the looks of her, it was questionable which would expire first, her or the due date of her books. I hope she has a codicil in her will to get those books back to where they belong. As they say “Good on her.”

We could not leave town without one last cup of java from our Glory coffee shop. We sat around and read the paper there absorbing the information about the storm that just peeked in at Napier but gave a full showing elsewhere. Then it was back to the hostel to collect our things.

While here, we came across a luggage sale. I have been wanting to replace my carry-on bag for some time; the zippers are getting temperamental. They had one about the same size on sale for $NZ64 with a 7 year guarantee. The saleslady assured me I would not need to return to Napier to make good on the guarantee if the need arose, so I bought it. Being a sentimental fool, I had difficulty parting with my old bag. It has served me well for seventeen years and is part of a set Ron and I bought our first year together. Sentiment has taken over; it is traveling with us still.

Our bus ride today is 5 1//2 hours. The bus was overbooked, so we had to wait for a second bus to arrive, which was fortunate. There were only six of us on it initially, though we did fill up and drop off plenty of others along the way. After 3 hours, we had to change buses completely. This shed a load off, but even better, the new bus was a double decker with plenty of room. Best of all, it had a bathroom.

Once more the scenery was spectacular. What occurred to me is that the roads are not oversized highways where highway hypnosis is a concern for drivers and passengers alike. The highways run through towns as well as wide open spaces, giving a full range of things to stimulate your senses. Trying to think of the colors of green I saw, this is the list thus far: green apple, lime green, avocado green, lemon-lime green (can you guess I did not have lunch?), forest green, emerald green, bluish green, mint green, and others that I cannot think of names to describe at the moment.

Traveling on a number of roads cut through mountains, there were these chicken wire type fences holding the rocks in place with steel girders. The way they protruded, the thought came that these were for sure over the shoulder boulder holders, a slang term used for bras or as Ron said the male version would be a rock strap (instead of a jock strap).

Our final destination was the Wellington railroad and bus station. From here we took a taxi to our bed and breakfast. As we made our way through the city, we could not help but notice how hilly the city is. Our driver kept saying what an ideal location we were in. It is only ten minutes to this and that from where we are staying. In the neighborhood of our bed and breakfast, the buildings remind us a great deal of San Francisco. The hilly streets add to this nostalgia. What the taxi driver failed to tell us is that we are ten minutes away from things if we were on a skateboard or had wings. By foot, it is a whole lot longer. Walk a block, use the respirator, walk another block, use the respirator again. These hills will be the death of me or the great fortune of taxi drivers.

This bed and breakfast is run by a man whose home as well as he himself was burned in a fire. His house has been rebuilt; his face is still a work in progress. His marketing makes it clear that he looks like the beast without the beauty. The social worker in Ron came out pushing him to book us here. It is quite shocking at first, but a friendly fellow he is without a doubt. Our room has room, which is quite an oddity thus far, this trip.

From the taxi window on the way to our B and B, we passed a Welsh bar. In the name of all of our Welsh friends, we felt a need to stop in for a pint. Martha and all of your descendents, we hope you recognize the sacrifice. It did make me want to return to Wales for a future get-away. Wandering around, we could not decide on a dinner spot, until we finally discovered Two Souls Bistro. What an excellent choice it was. Quiet, lovely surroundings, service that was superior, and the food was top par. It was a fabulous evening made better by finding a bus that passes our hillside B and B allowing us to travel beyond it causing us to walk downward to reach it. Life is good.  

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All Aboard

ALL ABOARD

We were cruising for the last time out of Modesto. This would be our last spin in the Saturn before turning it over to Marsha. Marsha was going to be in Hawaii when we left town so we had to get creative with arrangements. We found that Amtrak leaves from the San Francisco airport, so we could leave the car in long term parking for Marsha’s return from Hawaii. That sounded like a plan until we found out that Amtrak would not let us take our large luggage on the shuttle that goes from San Francisco to Emeryville, where the actual station is located.

I never fail to fall asleep in the car or any vehicle: land, sea or air, as long as there is motion involved. This day was different. This day was our last trip out of Modesto, traveling Route 99 to 205 to all of the other veins of highways that deliver you to the city of fun and entertainment. I was wide awake and seeing the scenery in a new light. It was as if I was taking mental photographs to remember what it looked like as we sped by mile by mile. I was never so refreshed on a car ride and anxious to experience one adventure at a time, taking careful consideration not to anticipate the sequence of what was planned for our future. It was not as arduous to stay in the moment as I had anticipated and was a worthwhile venture.

The first stop was the Emeryville Amtrak station, where we had to check our luggage Friday evening for our Saturday departure. The weight allowance was 70 pounds per bag. One of our bags was 78 pounds and another was 73 pounds. Then the spare emergency bag that we stuffed all of our last minute “treasures” into was 38 pounds. This and two carry-ons, plus a backpack with the laptop were all of our former life that would follow us into the next life. As I contemplated this thought, my mind wondered to earlier that day when we gave away more than 170 shirts, pants, scarves, gloves and other assorted clothing items. After 170, I stopped counting the hangers that were needed to transport the clothes to their new homes. Our housekeeper had come for the last time that day and she was able to leave with cash and a car load of goodies that we could no longer use, fit on the truck, or carry with us. Now our life was further condensed to about 200 pounds of luggage and probably less as we continue this journey. This is too much weight to be carting around the planes, trains, ferries, taxis, and other modes of transport both here and abroad. The Amtrak Ticket Clerk demanding an extra $20.00 for having overweight luggage interrupted my reverie. Story of my life, even my luggage is overweight.

Feeling less weighted down, we headed to the San Francisco Airport Hilton where I was able to get a room for $59.00 plus frequent flyer miles on my airlines card, my Hilton Honors card, and by paying with Visa the current promotion awarded me another 1000 bonus points. Jackpot! Our room was a deluxe with a sitting area, but we arrived by 8:00 pm and then crossed the parking lot for a late dinner before turning in for our race in the morning.

As I was getting ready in the morning, there was an interview on the television with the author of the Under the Tuscan Sun, Frances May. All that I heard was her comment about having a dream about 101 angels and how she knew she would find them in Tuscany. She was not certain if they would all be clustered together or if she would come upon them one by one. My mind began thinking about angels, the 101 plus angels that we were leaving behind in California. They are the angels of friendship, the angels of compassion, the angels of love that filled our life with so many unforgettable memories. These angels will be with us for all of our days to come, out of sight, but always flying in and out of our memories until fate brings us together again. Shakespeare said it all with “parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Our last errand was to bring the car to the San Francisco airport and park it in long term parking for Marsha to find when she returned from Hawaii. By going to the farthest end of the parking lot, we were able to find parking directly under a marker sign. I just needed to remember to call Marsha in Hawaii and tell her where it was parked. From the parking lot shuttle to the airport, we descended on flight to find the Amtrak shuttle, which whisked us off to the Amtrak station in Emeryville for our train. Waiting on the platform brought back memories from childhood of the anticipation of a train ride. Being a child of a railroad employee and later an employee myself, there were many opportunities to ride the train. This is one mode of transportation I never grow tire of. On the train in coach and off to Denver on the California Zephyr, the trainperson was a woman with a cheery disposition. Departure time – 8:30 am Saturday morning…arrival scheduled for Denver Sunday at 7:30 pm. The coach seats were extra wide with a leg rest that could be adjusted to any height while the back reclined. All seats with the exception of the handicapped are on the upper level. This was going to be a comfortable ride and the thoughts of blissful dreams were dancing in my head. Once that train started moving, it was time for me to say, “Good night sun and good night moon”. Although there is a viewing car, it was not much different from our coach car other than the seating was arranged differently and covered in leather. One more car away was the snack car, and then yet another car’s walk was the smoking car. Surprisingly, I did not grace the smoking room as often as I thought I would, however; there were a couple of women from Iowa, sister-in-laws who bragged about being in the smoking room for the 36 hours we spent on the train, only leaving to get sodas, beer and once a quick nibble. It seems that their husbands worked construction, building power plants all over California at this time, but all over the states from time to time. They had not been home for seven months, but each had a family emergency to attend to and the last minute airfares directed them to Amtrak.

Motion is a narcotic for me. I do not need drugs, prescription or natural when in a vehicle. I cuddled up in my seat with the provided pillow and my new mystery book complements of my co-workers for a relaxing read-doze marathon. From what I viewed of the scenery between reading and dreaming, I had not misplaced my energy or attention. I was able to recoup all of the dreams that I never had due to lack of sleep for the last three months. It was mentally stimulating in a narcoleptic manner.

Ron was able to pry me lose from my seating by making dinner reservations in the dining car. I had always fantasized about dining in style on a train, but when I was a child, our family budget was picnics in our seats, not eating out fashionably. It was extraordinary to watch the waiter and waitress serving beverages and dinners on china as the train wobbled along at high and low speeds, but was more fascinating was to think about the poor chef who had to cook with the same aplomb. There were five entrees on the menu, no small feat for a moving restaurant. We settled on the roasted chicken which I have to honestly confess was delicious. The entire dinner was beyond our expectations and not much higher in price than a regular restaurant meal.

It was three am. I was wakened by the stillness of the train. When I looked out the window, we were not moving. The train stops, I wake. The train moves and I sleep. That is a lovely arrangement, but now I am yanked from my subconscious world of imagery, because the train has stopped. It has stopped in the desert of Utah. Why? At that point I did not know. All I knew was that my hibernation had been interrupted…for over two hours. Later, I learned from the two chain smoking Iowans that there was a freight train accident and we had to wait for the tracks to clear. We were actually delayed for three hours. Thank the gods of the nighttime reverie that I did not have to stay awake that long.

Sunday, I was definitely ready to get off of the train by noon. Unfortunately, if I had I would still be somewhere in Utah and still far from Denver. I tried to diversify my activity by going to the lounge car. They had televisions there where they showed movies to wile away the hours. The movie showing was one we had seen, Chocolat. It was worth watching part of it again and non caloric at the same time. Other movies were too loud to stay in the lounge for and there was no one around to control the volume. Fortunately, our friend Leinani had given us a goodie bag, which we nibbled on the rest of the trip: the snack bar had irregular hours. By Denver, I had caught up on 20 hours of sleep and finished my mystery book.

Ron’s nephew-in-law picked us up in Denver and took us to his house for a visit. Ron’s sister Marge came from Fort Collins to see her “little” brother again. She had been in Iowa for the 4^th of July when Ron was there. Ron’s niece Rita and she and Mark’s daughter Elise were there to entertain us. Oh, I cannot forget Annie, their chocolate Lab. She is five years old and still has more energy than five children with ADD on speed. One of the highlights was watching Elise’s soccer video. It is amazing and liberating to see such incredible young women excel at the sport. In addition, they were all beautiful. Mark and Rita have their basement decorated with the art of their two daughters from throughout their school careers. Kudos need to be given to their art teachers for the imagination they inspired in these two young girls, now women. The range and depth of media was beyond any that I have seen for the lower grades. Brains, beauty and talent, what a lovely way to celebrate a family gathering.

Mark took us to our hotel, another Hilton and more bonus points. I had called the hotel to make sure they guaranteed my room with my credit card. The desk clerk chuckled and said if we should up at 3:00 am with 100 other people she would be able to accommodate all of us without a problem. They only had 20% occupancy. Remarkably, I was able to rest well regardless of my cat naps on the train.

Faithful and charitable Mark was there to pick us up at the hotel the next morning to escort us to a breaking of the fast at their home. After our last meal with Ron’s kin folk, we said our good-byes once again. Still the reality of time and absence had not settled in when we hugged that last time. Mark drove us to the Denver airport to pick up our rental car. This is where my mettle gets tested. It is approximately a five plus hour drive to Gillette, Wyoming from Denver. Gillette is where Ron’s dear friends Sheila and Fred Billick have settled down until Fred’s retirement from the railroad. The question in my mind was WHY WHYoming? Ron had not seen them for a number of years and had recently reestablished a continually and more gratifying writing relationship gratitude to the technology of e-mail. Sheila had also found out about my love of seashells and sent me an apothecary jar that she had collected from their last trip to Florida. I in turn sent her some shells in a frame that I had collected from Thailand and other travels. Trying to stay in the moment, there was no anticipation of what the next couple of days would be like, but the thought of the drive to their home was not my favorite topic to contemplate.

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Greetings Friends

Greetings Friends,

Ron and Ryan have made a major life decision. We are selling the house and moving to Asia or Eastern Europe. We had finally decided to sell the house and travel for a year, after putting our things in storage in NJ (where Ryan’s brother and father live). Later that same night Ryan received an offer from Kazakhstan for the position of Coordinator of English Undergraduate Studies at their Institute. Ryan was thrilled and talked to his friend Myrtis about it since she has taught all over the world. She is currently in Croatia. She told Ryan to get his foot in the door wherever and it would be easier to move from place to place then. We have had a long time desire to live abroad.The problem with Kazakhstan, above and beyond the remoteness and various other obvious issues, is that you need a visa for getting in and a special one for staying. Looking through the web, we found out that the school needs to get my visa. Ryan was concerned about Ron getting a visa. Since Ron has a credential for teaching English as a Second Language, the contact said he could be hired too. They gave contacts for two other schools that were hiring, but the school that wanted Ryan did not have current positions for Ron.

They want Ryan there August 15th, which is tight since the house goes on the market this weekend (June 23, 2001). We still have to sell furniture and move it to NJ where Ryan's brother is living. When we do move back to the States, we don't intend to return to California. Then Ryan found that they have done nothing about getting a visa yet. That could take up to 4 weeks. Ron has not heard about the other schools yet either and that would prolong his visa too. Right now don’t know what our specific plans are, but we do know we are leaving Modesto and California. We are either moving to Kaz. or traveling for a year. The rest will fall into place somehow and it will turn out. That much we have faith in.

We had plane tickets for Boston when there was a really good sale and we were anticipating looking at properties. Since that fell out, we decided not to spend the money to go to Boston for a vacation. Ron has not seen his family in Iowa for over 6 years and needed a family fix before we took off for a period of time. He is using the time we were going to Boston to see family. Ryan is using the time to spend at our friend Myrtis and Randall's home in San Francisco, since they are both overseas. She gave Ryan a set of keys. Ryan needs the time to relax his body and mind before the chaos really begins for sure. This might just be the last time Ryan will see San Francisco for a really long time.

So this is where we are. The travel and possible teaching abroad just may give Ryan the added experiences that he needs to land the perfect job that he wants in academia. We can only hope that this is the right decision and it is an advantage. Our crystal ball has been in for repairs fora hell of a long time and it is tough making all of these decisions without some clues as to what is right and what is a stupid mistake. We have tried predicting our moves ourselves, but we will never get a job on 1-800-PSYCHICS with our accuracy rate.

For now, we do not know where our mailing address will be. We are not sure if we will stay overseas for more than a year or less than a year. Our life plan is open for the Universe to negotiate with. The only sure addresses we will have are our e-mail addresses.
Ron – No longer valid
Ryan – No longer valid
Both of us – (Notice there is a _ between the e and s)
If any one is aware of Educational employment opportunities abroad, where Americans can work, we would be happy to hear about them. Happy Trails from us to you and may the spirit of adventure be with you.

Ryan and Ron

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