months of nothing
six inches below normal
suddenly late afternoon
downpours, flooding
three waterfalls off canyon cliff
double rainbow
birds sing evensongs
and now this
Uncategorized
Afternoon at the Library
Usually at the library I checkout and return books. Because my grandson is taking art classes at a nearby college for three hours in the afternoons, I go to read and observe. The same older men show up everyday. Some, acquaintances or friends, quietly chat. They look scruffy with dirty, stringy hair. Are they homeless? Does the library provide an air conditioned refuge? They read, look at magazines.
One man in a tan Alaska cap takes notes from a large book. He appears well groomed, clean, with a sculpted, small beard. Another alternates reading and checking his cell phone. At a separate round oak table a man sits in a dark heavy coat–it said 102 on my car temperature gage when I arrived. He never looks up, concentrates on the black laptop in front of him. The white earbuds stand out against his heavy dark beard. His fingernails are dirty. A white haired man approaches the round table I occupy and asks if he can sit there. I reply, “Sure.” His dark skin shows the heavy creases of outside work and age. His fingernails are clean. He focuses on filling out an application for a commercial driver’s license.
In the several days I have stayed here to read and wait, I have seen only one woman where they allow adults to sit. Do these men, day after day, come here because they have no place else to go?
This Evening
Raging wind gone still
Mockingbird carols to Sunset
Dusk whispers to Night
Iris Tough
In spite of less than 3/4 inch rain since last fall and minimal watering from the 400 foot deep well, iris bloom everywhere–even in unamended caliche, a glorious reminder of nature’s resilience.
When I thinned these a couple of years ago, I had so many that I stuck them everywhere, even here at the end of the driveway. I have watered them only once.
A friend gave me just one. I planted it by the barn among others of the color in the first photo. In spite of the drought they multiplied a lot this past year. Probably all the rain from last summer helped before it quit raining.
I planted these a couple of years ago in front of the barn. I watered them a few times this spring but none during the winter. This particular iris reblooms in the fall and multiplies so fast it is difficult to keep up with separating it.
Possibly because of their location by the retaining wall near the barn facing west, these are always the first to bloom. I did water them a couple of times this spring. Insects have found them.
Adventure in Argentina–Iguazu Falls from a Helicopter
It became very clear to Gaston and me that we would not really get a true perspective of the falls unless we took the helicopter ride our taxi driver/tour guide recommend. To do this we once again had to cross to Brazil. The company that operates the helicopter rides is Argentinian. However, Argentina decided no helicopters on their side because they disturb animals, the environment. The ride is short and relatively expensive. Gaston protested it cost too much. I am conservative about money but thought about it and decided, “I may never be here again. Gaston’s last trip here occurred when he was six, nearly two decades ago. We are going to do this.” This was Gaston’s first helicopter ride.
Even from a helicopter it is nearly impossible to see all the falls at once.
The left side is Brazil, the right Argentina. The falls in Argentina continue to the right beyond this photo. The immensity of this natural wonder never ceases to amaze.
Adventure in Argentina–Iguazu Falls, Day One
We landed at the jungle airport near the down of Iguazu, found a taxi (the taxi to our hotel was only 5 dollars more than the bus), and continued our adventure. Gaston and I felt lucky; the lady taxi driver gave us excellent service and advice for our three day sojourn at Iguazu. She suggested we head to the Brazilian side of the falls first because the trails are fewer and it was later in the day. All you have to do is provide your passport, roll down your window so they can look at your face, and proceed. At the Brazilian park headquarters everyone has to wait for a bus, which can drop visitors off at various points along hiking trails. The above was one of my first views of the falls.
It became clear almost immediately that it would be impossible to see all the falls from any single place; they are immense to the point of unbelievable, overwhelming. You hear the roar long before you see the cause. At this vantage point, I am standing on Brazilian soil looking across to the Argentinian side. The center of river which causes the falls provides the boundary between Brazil and Argentina.
To reach this vantage point, the trail winds down a rather steep incline. Everything is wet from the mist which is so extensive, it is impossible to be anywhere near and not become somewhat wet. A trail proceeds from here below the falls out over a part of the river where it is like being in your bathroom shower. Gaston took many photos here. The roar of the falls is so loud it is impossible to carry on a conversation.
Coatimundis are everywhere. On the Brazil side in particular huge signs are posted with a person displaying bleeding, serious injuries inflicted by these seemingly harmless creatures. The instructions tell visitors not to feed them, try to pet them, anything. The result may not be good if you do.
The roar, the immensity, overtakes ones emotions. The power of water a millionfold, displayed in all its grandeur overwhelms.
In Brazil looking across to Argentina.
Adventures in Argentina-Buenos Aires Neighborhoods
Buenos Aires has many neighborhoods, areas with sometimes distinct character. Our hotel in San Telmo made it easy to see a lot of the city by walking. Other areas we strolled through include Centro and Recoleta. In the three days we stayed there, we walked 35 miles according to my Fitbit.
This Starbucks was exactly one block from our hotel. We went there the first morning for the typical Argentinian breakfast: coffee and a biscuit (not like the ones here) or a small croissant with some sweet glaze on top. Starbucks can be found throughout the city.
Everywhere you see beautiful parks and people use them for strolling, dog walking, jogging, relaxing, picnicking, hanging out–you name it. Plus the trees–on all major streets, on side streets, everywhere. Of course, it was the end of summer. Perhaps parks receive less use in winter.
Even on main thorough fares, like this one which is claimed to be the longest street in the world, trees reside on the sides, in the middle, everywhere.
This is a mall, seriously. We ate a delicious lunch here one day and came back the next day for a drink. I had coffee; Gaston had a green drink with mint and ginger which was refreshing and delicious. The ceiling is well–take a look!
Hard to believe this is a mall.
One day we took the train to its end at the train station. The recently restored train station contains the fanciest Starbucks ever with incredible murals.
The ceiling is beautiful too.
From this station it is possible to take a train to various parts of the city but also trains go from here way out into the suburbs. Reminded me of the subway and train system in New York City and its suburbs where I once lived.
San Martin, the hero who freed southern South America from Spain, crossed the Andes with mules, not horses–Hugo, Gaston’s dad, gave me lots of history lessons. However, when I saw this statue, I did not know all the history yet. This park, filled with huge trees, borders several streets where, like much of Buenos Aires, modern and antique coexist.
Suddenly we notice men on horseback riding out of a military area next to San Martin Park. We rushed across the park to watch, hoping they would ride around the park. They did not; they headed down a street.
We never discovered the purpose of this little parade of military personnel on horseback.
The buildings around the park provide a perfect example of the traditional, the centuries old beside the modern. The traditional building in the middle houses very exclusive apartments.
The opposite side of the park from the statue of San Martin overlooks the English Tower, given to Argentina by the English before the little war over the Falkland Islands which both countries claimed. The English won.
A friend told me to take tea at the Alvear Palace Hotel so we headed to Recoleta area. We strolled around, did not take tea, but we did have lunch in one of the small restaurants inside the hotel area.
Next to this restaurant resides a tea store, Tealosophy, where they sell nothing but tea. I quit counting at fifty different blends. In Argentina International Women’s Day was highly celebrated. This tea shop created a special blend just for that event, Mujeres Power. I bought some; it smells heavenly but have not tried it yet.
We walked down to another park near the famous cemetery where all the national heroes and important people have been buried for centuries. Nearby we saw the largest tree I have ever seen.
The branches, which were impossible to photo in one picture, extend far and are so heavy they are supported by cement or metal columns.
The tree is to the left in this photo. The walk leads to a monastery and the cemetery.
The cemetery was full of people.
The artwork here speaks for itself.
As we walked back we circled this famous piece–a tulip that opens and closes.
Then farther down the street which is close to the port–we could hear ship sounds, etc.–we saw this living wall.
Yes, this wall is made of living plants. I could not help but stop and stare.
The building which holds their equivalent of the US Congress. I continue to wonder how I managed to walk past the Pink House–like US White House–several times and never take a photo. Perhaps I was distracted by the protesters. Argentina is used to protests which appear to be legally protected. In the one we saw one evening, the protestors carried banners of Che Guevara.
And finally some typical views, this one along a side street.
Adventures in Argentina– Teatro Colon
Teatro Colon, considered one of the world’s great theaters, began on May 25, 1908, with a performance of Verdi’s Aida. This theatre replaced the original theatre which began operation in 1857. Teatro Colon’s construction took twenty years even though its original cornerstone was laid in 1890. The original architect, Francesco Tamburini, died in 1891. His partner took over but also died. The final architect, Jules Dormal, completed the theatre.
Theater Colon is huge–originally 8,202 square meters, 3,196 of which is underground. Later 12,000 more meters were added. The total floor space equals 58,000 square meters. The design includes French and Italian styles, and includes dressing and practice rooms, rooms to design sets and create scenery, etc.–this part of the theatre is underground. Everything used in the productions here are created on site.
This is the curtain area. The actual curtain used during performances remains behind what you see here.
Marble, gold, other precious stones and metals are everywhere.
Due to design, its acoustics are known worldwide as one of the best. Every famous opera singer you have ever heard of performed here. This holds true for ballet dancers and orchestras as well.
Currently, the theatre provides a venue for operas, symphonies, ballet, choral music, and contemporary dance among other artistic endeavors. During this March alone, fifteen different performances of varying types occurred here. When we arrived the lines were long, some for buying tickets for performances, others for tours.
Adventure in Argentina
On March 3, I left for a two week trip to Argentina to visit my former exchange student and his family. On March 4, Gaston met me at EZE airport in Buenos Aires. I took the red eye from Houston to EZE, ten hours but an easy direct flight. Little did we expect then that we would be spending a considerable amount of time in an eye clinic in Cordoba, the city where Gaston lives and attends engineering school. We spent most of three days in Buenos Aires, then flew to Iguassu to see the famous falls. Several days later while waiting on a four hour late plane from there to Cordoba, suddenly I could not see clearly in my left eye; large pieces of black something floated all around and everything was blurry.
At nine the next morning we walked the five blocks from Gaston’s apartment to the most advanced eye clinic in Cordoba, a private clinic open on a Saturday morning. After experiencing multiple eyedrops in both eyes, seeing several doctors, being subjected to all sorts of modern machines and tests, I found out I could not see because my left eye was quite inflamed with lots of fluid which made it nearly impossible for them to see what they needed to make a definite determination. They gave me a prescription for the inflammation and told me to return on Monday morning and to be as quiet and calm as possible to facilitate healing. That nixed the planned road trip Gaston’s parents and I planned to start that same Saturday.
Some blessings are unexpected. While I would have seen more of Argentina than I did with a longer road trip–ultimately we took a shorter one, I would not have spent a relaxing, fun weekend with the whole family at La Finca, the family place in the country outside of Cordoba–photos later. I became acquainted with family members and friends, lived their typical weekend life, ate Argentinian food, all things I would have missed if we had been able to follow our original plans.
On Monday some of the inflammation had cleared so they could see that I did not have a retinal detachment–my main concern. The doctors cleared the way for a shorter road trip and told me to come back Thursday morning. At that time they were able to determine the exact problem and told me to make an appointment with a doctor here in the states because I would not be in Argentina when the final solution needed to occur.
Three trips to the clinic, seeing multiple doctors plus a retinal specialist twice all cost a total of 110 dollars. Tomorrow morning my left eye receives a laser treatment and then I am told I will be fine; I visited the doctor here on Monday. He told me exactly what they had told me. I can only begin to imagine what my Monday trip to this doctor and the laser tomorrow will cost. At times I wonder if it would not have been better to stay in Cordoba another week, pay the extra flight cost, and receive the laser treatment there.
Tomorrow photos of Buenos Aires and our adventures there will appear after I return from the retinal specialist’s office.
Note: at a lecture last evening I saw a friend who is originally from Germany. After she heard my healthcare adventure in Argentina, she informed me that she has to use very expensive eye drops. They are so much cheaper in Europe that she and her husband, she is in her 80s and her husband 92, fly to Europe regularly to get the drops. Even with the cost of these flights, they save several thousand dollars each time.
Day 127
Tan grass stretches miles and miles as far as eyes can see.
The water in the indigo bird bath evaporates in one day.
Playa lakes, full last summer, surrounded then in emerald grass, lay waterless.
Thirty-five miles an hour winds create fog-like clouds of dust across the horizon.
Grit, wind hurled, buffets cars and trucks driving down the long, straight highways.
Dust-fed sunrises and sunsets clad skies in orange, hot pink, vermillion, violet, mauve.
Day 127 with no measurable precipitation.
Note: I wrote this ten days ago. That evening it rained .01 inches. None since then. We are approaching four months with just that .01 inches, nothing more. Every time it warms and the winds come, the weather forecast mentions high fire danger. All counties and state parks near here have burn bans. March is a windy month.
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