PhotocatsEyes

 

The never ending story of the phone pole... 

Has turned into a major farce... Nope, we have not been reconnected yet, yes, we are waiting on another engineer, and yes, I am going totally nuts over this. 

Let’s recap... 24 January : a truck accidently cuts our phone line, no landline and no broadband possible in the house... 

25 January ; Landlord contacts provider to let them know that we have a serious fault, need repair. He gets an answer that an engineer will come out on the 26th. 

26th: no engineer in sight... 

27th: an hour and a half phone call from my part to provider, promise to get an engineer on monday. Monday: no engineer in sight. I make another two hour call to provider, they promise an engineer on tuesday. That is after I have given my password, name, whether I am the account holder, bank, the whole rattemetaz seventeen times as they keep switching me from department to department. Every new voice on the other side needs the same information before they even want to consider talking to me, so it gets pretty boring after the 17th time... I am also put on hold for unknown times, hearing the same stupid music tune over and over. I can sing it myself now... 

Tuesday: Engineer shows up, gets out of his car, asks me what is wrong, I show him the two loose ends of cable 

He scratches his head.... Hmmm, lady, let’s see...That cable has been cut... 

I KNOW KNITWIT, the cut cable is why you are here in the first place... Did you think I invited you for tea??? 

As we have gotten new rules, we can not re-attach the cable, and the new rules stipulate that the wire has to go at least five foot above ground, therefore we need a pole... 

OK, where do you guys get a pole? Can I get a pole for you? 

O noooo, we have a pole department. I will let them know that we need a pole, and we need to ask for a waiver from the electricity company, as we work with electricity. 

Euuhhh, all good and well, can you re-attach the line temporarily till you guys figured out the pole thing? 

Nope, too big of a responsibility, if something happens, I will be responsible... Health and safety rules demand that we have a waiver, and that the new wire has to be five foot above ground. 

OK, now tell me again, why can’t you attach the cable temporarily, so you have time to sort this whole mess out, and we can use our broadband till you guys decide what and who will actually fix it... 

Nope mam, someone could get hurt and I don’t want to be responsible for that... 

MAN, you will get hurt, I will personally wreck your health and safety if you don’t fix that line temporarily so I can work from home... 

Hmmmm..... maaammmm 

OK, get of my driveway before I attack you... 

By that time I am sweating like a camel in the desert, I want to scream and kick something... I must look like Cruella Deville by now as I see a skiddish look in the man’s eyes. He quickly puts his car in gear and flees... The coward... Afraid of a tiny, frail old lady... 

Anyway, on thursday, I place another call to provider asking about the pole status... 

Can I have your name, bank, AGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRR 

Right, after yet another hour on the phone they promise me an engineer for friday, yesterday, in the afternoon since I am not at home in the morning. Massage to get the stiffness out of my body. Back in england a week and stiff again... Why do I want to move to warm and dry Arizona or New Mexico? Exactly... 

I am getting my massage when my phone rings, at eleven in the morning, that the BT engineer is standing at my front door and nobody is home. I know knitwit, I told the department that I was only home in the afternoon. Why are you at my front door now... Do you understand ONLY AFTERNOON??? After 1?????? 

I scoot off the massage table, break all speed limits to get home and catch the little bugger on my driveway, and am just in time to block his way out with my car. OK Nitwit, did I not tell your department to come in the afternoon???? Is it fixed????? 

Nope maaam, I do understand your frustration... 

NO YOU DON’T!!!! YOU HAVE NO GODDAM CLUE ABOUT THE LEVEL OF MY FRUSTRATION!!!! I WANT IT FIXED, I WANT IT FIXED TODAY, I WANT IT FIXED IN THE NEXT TEN MINUTES!!!! 

Euuuuhhh Mam, new rules have come in to place, every cable has to be attached at least... 

AAAGGGRRRR, I KNOOOOWWWW. I AM NOT AN ENGINEER BUT I KNOW THAT THE LINE HAS TO BE ATTACHED FIVE FOOT ABOVE GROUND AND THAT WE NEED A POLE FOR THAT! WHERE IS THE POLE? DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE A POLE IN YOUR CAR AND THAT YOU WILL NOT FIX IT BEFORE THE WEEKEND!!!! 

Euh... the pole department has not released a pole yet, and I do not have a waiver from the electricity company, therefore I can not do anything today... 

GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU BUM KISSER!!!!! AND DON’T DARE TO COME BACK UNLESS YOU HAVE POLE AND ARE PLANNING ON FIXING THIS... PREFERABLY BEFORE MARCH OF 2010!!!! 

I had no idea I could be that rude and impatient with a guy only doing his job, but for some reason, the engineers they send out wake up the worst in me. They refuse to think for one minute outside of their box, and common sense is flying out of the window faster then we can say BT engineer. 

Another one flees my drive way with a skiddish glance in his eyes... Right... Who can I beat up now as I need to do something with my anger before I explode... Let’s place another phone call to the provider. As the BT guy says he send a report back to the provider. Now the provider has to update my status, still without phone, and send out another BT engineer with a pole and a fixer... I call provider, and tell them that I will sue their stupid fat asses if they don’t connect me with a manager, as I need to have a serious talk about phone poles and frustration about the fact that we now saw two engineers who both stated that our line is cut, and it needs repairing... 

Right, we are now waiting on.... repeat after me.... another engineer, who will bring pole and fix it, and boy, I promise you all, this will be the first case of a known phone pole guy hostage situation as I swear on my grandmother her little soul that I will lay in front of this guy his car. He will not get back out of the driveway again unless that thing is fixed. I will have camp tools, tent, hot water bottle, cookies and milk, and I WILL NOT MOVE FROM THE FRONT OF HIS VAN UNLESS THEY SEND A POLICE FORCE TO VIOLENTLY REMOVE ME.... This is my holy war... I WANT MY PHONE LINE BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A little more Gallery in the Sun...

One of my blog readers asked me why the South West appeals so much to me. Hard to say. I know it was love at first sight, coming home big time, even when at my first visits, I had no idea at all that I could find another home outside of Belgium and England.

Maybe i have a traveling soul, able to live almost anywhere, as long as I have things to keep my mind busy. I need a connection with the ones before me, and possibly with the ones coming behind me. I did live in Belgium for the most of my life, never travelled much, no money, no real desire. But from the age of seven, when I started to read, growing up in a book store, I read about far countries. Far was good. I read about people living in totally different conditions, I read about explorers finding new paths into area’s where no one stepped before. The far always called me.

I especially loved books with travel stories. Young ships mates who embarked on ships for the East Indian Company, leaving Amsterdam behind, or Liverpool, to go on year long sailing trips around the world. I marveled at the meetings they had with pirates and other cultures.
How they came back home older and wiser, no more innocence, as they had seen too much on their travels.

I don’t do half... It’s all or nothing. Either I love it or I hate it, I need to look for the grey inbetween as at first glance, there is only black and white.
Which is not real of course, there is grey... Nothing purely exists in black and white. People can not be classified within black and white boundaries.
It makes me wonder why I indeed love the South West so much. I used to be pretty happy in Belgium, saw the beauty of it, totally different then what we find in England or in America, or wherever I go...
Some places have an immediate attraction to me and keep pulling me to go back. Venice is such a place, seen it once, and desperately would love to go back.
Tuscany the same thing... I want to go back to Sienna, but don’t know if we will ever manage...
Exotic places with sounding names, coupled to people that are different.

Wondering around in the Gallery in the Sun, created and built by Ted De Grazia, I look at scenes that are self explanatory.

Themes that go with life itself. Men with hats, women amongst them, what, who are they looking for? Are they looking for new places? Defending old places?

A lot of paintings in the Museum. Everywhere the same simple style of portraying, paintings that are very easy to look at, extremely eye pleasing.

I think I recognize the San Xavier Del Bac mission, with his one missing bell tower. A procession following the Virgin Mary.

Priests in black, natives working, building a church. How did the priests manage to get so much compliance from the native people, as in a lot of cases, the indians payed a high price for listening to those white strangers.
Is it the struggle of the people living here out west that speaks books to me? I do tend to take sides, and often the side of the ones loosing. I hate to see injustice.
Did the West have more injustice then other parts of the world?

Spanish conquistadores, bringing disease and death into the desert and the pueblo’s.

Priests in the landscape, the saguarro’s, mountains in the distance, cattle being herded trough the desert landscape.
I think you must love the land and the people to paint it like De Grazia did.

He was lucky, he could paint... He could tell us about his adventures in a great way.
Why do I love the South West so much? Hmmm, the question lingers.

Is it because there is so much wide open space, not claimed, or claimed but not lived on?
Is it the lack of green? No green forests? Instead prickly stuff that has to be respected? If you don’t respect it, it will bite you...

I think I don’t really have the answer as to why I love the South West so much... I just know I do, and that I feel at home there.

Even with all the spiky things around... Sigh... Some things can not be explained...
If I ever do find the answer, I will tell you all...

Talk later!

A gallery in the sun...

After all the bad news, it’s time for some more upbeat piccies from Tucson. My sister in law lives there, and on our way to Las Cruces, we stayed overnight at Christine’s house.
The weather was gorgeous, for people adoring sun and blue skies, Arizona is the place to be in this time of year. What I love about Tucson is the fact that some of the roads take us up towards the foot hills surrounding the city. Some lovely houses on the slopes, and normal life is going on, school kids get transported from school to home with the known yellow busses.

I suspect some million dollar homes in that area... Big villa’s, even to American standards...

If you look back into town, this is the beautiful view you get...

The road gently sloping down into the centre, and all the way up back to the mountains on the other side of Tucson. I know why I like the South West so much.
It is mostly the mountains, together with the sun, and the feel of having breath. No crammed streets, filled with parked cars, no high rise buildings.
We have a view and we can breath freely... Pure mountain air.

Here and there a Saguarro topping above his environment. And always the mountains in the distance, no matter what direction you look to.
I have no idea where my sister in law is taking us, she has a surprise for us, I am curious... Not in the least because the surprise is totally different then what I might have expected. She takes us up to the Gallery in the sun.

A son of an Italian family, Ted De Grazia was a busy man, extremely artistic, painting, welding, I had never heard of him, but it was an amazing experience to find his work and heritage in the hills.

Ted De Grazia died in 1982, but created the DeGrazia Foundation, so his gallery and life’s work could be preserved. He build the site with the now museum with the help of Native friends, mainly adobe buildings, with a small church as masterpiece.

It looks very inviting, the door is open, people are free to have a look. And what a look!
The chapel is traditional adobe, but has an open roof, so the sun can fall inside and throw a soft light on walls and floors.

The chapel has been built in honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe, virgin Saint of Mexico. The often seen picture of a Maria radiating golden beams around her. An image omni present in al of the South West.

I am flabbergasted with the beauty of the wall paintings. A simple style, vivid colours, yellows and greens, I love what this man did.

Some people call his work childish, but to me, it has a special feel, and I love how he paints scenes depicting life in the Tucson Desert and how the people live and lived.
We can see the arrival of the spanish priests, next to Angels in different sizes...

I don’t see myself as an artist, and I have no artistic education at all, the only criteria I have in watching “art” is whether I like it or not. And what I see in the chapel definitely speaks to me. Far more then some world famous works in the MOMA in New York, that I don’t understand at all.
The images in the chapel in the foothills tell me stories, I see people, real living people...

Farmers working the fields,

Native Indian dancers with masks and animal disguises. I love it. Painted direct onto the plaster walls, no energy lost on canvasses, nope, natural materials, and a natural way of painting and coloring it in.

A livable religion is painted, figures with robes and big eyes. Their skins colored like the people we meet in Tucson, tanned by the sun.
Ted De Grazia lived on the ten acre lot surrounding the chapel and museum, and he lived in a small adobe house on site.

A small kitchen, a wood stove, no electric appliances, a life with basics. Cooking like it has been done centuries, on fire, as only consession I see an oven.
The window in the kitchen is shaded by wooden sticks, keeping the sun out but enough light can still enter to play shadow games.

A small living room, with a blue bird painted on the glass of the window, some people don’t need much to touch souls. It does touch my soul.

Around his house the native plants of the desert are present, De Grazia built arches to lead people around, all is matched.
Some of the arches have metal flowers, here too colors that scream happy.

Simple forms, basic forms, the artist listened to his inner child. It all makes a huge impression on me. I wished I had met him, if I had been in Tucson in the seventies, I might have known him. But such is life, we travel and learn about people we never heard of before, and can only be sorry to have missed them.

I am more then happy that my sister in law took us to this bit of heaven on earth, so peaceful. Another little bit for my book of memories...
When I get old and grey, my memories will still be there I hope, and make me as happy as I feel on the day I lived them.

Besides his house and the chapel, there is also a museum, and we have time to go in and browse and enjoy...
Some inside piccies of that in the next installment... Now lets see if I can get this entry to load.
I stepped in my nasty shoes and asked the guy who cut our phone line to cough up 50 pounds for a mobile broadband dongle...
Not nearly as fast as a real connection, but at least I can now check email at home, and maybe post some blog entries...
While awaiting further actions from the Phone Pole Department...

Talk later and I hope that I did wake up some interest for Ted De Grazia, Tucson’s famous son...

Little Britain: telephone poles...

Why on gods earth did we think that fixing our telephone connection was going to be easy? Nothing is easy in Brittain.
We arrived home after a long flight over the ocean, and came with both feet back on the ground when I found out that my ipod got stolen out of my car.
The car was parked on what is supposed to be a guarded and safe parking, where the keepers have the key of the car. I can only hope that who ever stole it has a ball with my mariachi music heavily on the foreground. I hope he or she gets spooked with Mariachi for the rest of their miserable life...
I know, it is just an ipod, but for me it was more. My personal music choice is part of who I am, and someone else grabbing in my hand box glove in my car stealing my pod steps on my heart. That was bummer one arriving back in England.

Bummer two was the cut phone line, and me having to contact our provider. You will say that it is just making a phone call... Nooonoooonooonooo....
A truck drove down our old phone line, snapping the cable in two. On saturday I spend an hour trying to talk to the provider, after the promised engineer did not show up on friday as promised.

A new promise was made for monday. You guessed it, nobody showed up... A new phone call brought in an engineer this morning, not to fix it. Nope... To assess.
I had explained to the guy on the phone that our line was cut. Snapped off, two ends, scissors, knife, I don’t know what else I used of words to describe cut in half...
They seemed to have a hard time grasp the concept of a snapped cable, and I got really crabby when they swapped me to the upteenth department where I could repeat password, yes, i am the account holder, yes I am Mrs Lucas, nope I will not give you my birthday date... I have given you my story and password and bank account fifty times by now, I want you to talk to me without all that garbage. The other part of the line does not understand that. A guy is claiming that he understands what I am feeling. I quickly tell him that he has no clue, is not even close to know what I am feeling and how angry I have become in this ball game of nuts company and customer needing help.

I know, knitwit, that there is something wrong with my internet, and nope, I do not need help with that, I need a frigging ingeneer that can put up a phone line so I can connect to the grid.

Don’t worry Madam, I will help you, let me put you on hold for two minutes so I can check your dossier.

And hop, off he goes, while I get put on hold for the 30th time this morning... when he comes back he states again that he will help me, and asks again what the problem exactly is...

DARN IT MAN, SCISSORS, SNAPPED, CUT OFF, ONE END OF THE LINE IN TREE, OTHER END ON THE FLOOR, WHAT PART OF MY ENGLISH DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND????
I KNOW WE HAVE A FAULT, OUR PHONE LINE HAS BEEN CUT OFF.

Gosh..

So when the guy arrived this morning, his health and safety were in big danger, as I was ready to pluck all his hair out. One by one, slowly... making sure he would not mess with my phone line pole again...
If we ever get one...

It means that I have to go blog in Mc Donalds, and how much fast food can one eat in a week? I can use their free wi-fi, but I have to eat there...
How a cut phone line is making me fat. So I can’t wear that gorgeous vest I bought in Prescott. Darn it...

No ipod, no mariachi, and no internet nor phone... I am getting depressed. My knight in shining armor hs left for the base, and comes back with a brand new ipod...
Dude, this guy rocks... He is a keeper.
I can stuff another ipod with mariachi, and put my ear plugs in and rock by the time the next engineer comes to do a pole statement...

For now, if the entries are somewhat limited, blame it on jet lag, pole anxiety and nuts companies anger...

And don’t come over to measure my stress levels as I would be declared clinically dead.
When did a phone line become a major happiness factor in my life??? Or let me turn it around: when did a phone pole become nuissance factor 99 in my life?
This morning, when the engineer started stating statements about pole departments and taking up to two weeks...

Tomorrow is laundry day though, back to normal life, no more arizona sun, time to go through photographs and write up some nice piccie stories. About our trip...
Stay tuned...

Goodbeye to Arizona...

Phoenix Airport with a free internet connection. And two hours to kill before boarding. The right time to quickly write up a bit of blog...
I don’t really want to go back to UK, but hey, it’s not as if we have a choice...
I still have lots of pics to share, as the blogging got a bit in a dump by being sick...
Nice to have some nice visual memories though of a fab trip anyway.
Coming up are some more people I met, like Rip van Winkle and his mate Mixer,

Vietnam Vets spet out by society...

I met up with them in Tortilla Flats.
I also have more saguarro’s to come, like those shot close near Roosevelt Dam, with the light vanishing for the day...

And the new bridge built to accomodate the surrounings of the Roosevelt dam...

Yep, that bridge that hubby and his brother drove over, just to be able to say they drove over it...

We just went back and forth, must have looked a bit crazy, but nowhere anybody to be seen, so nobody could quesiton our right mind...

In short, Highway 188 is more then worth the shake up for body and mind on the dirt track... grin

And I have grasses, more prickly stuff, don’t think you saw al the prickly stuff we saw...
We should be able to board within an hour, and then go on our 22 hour travel back to Bellwood Bungalow...
We got the news that a truck cut down our phone line at home, so it might be a bit of luck to find a connection, but I will be around.

Next blog will be from England again, with some more reflections on our trip... The good stuff is yet to come people!

Talk later!

La Jolie and Obama...

A sequel to the Angelina Jolie lips is needed. Not only do I have those, but it got enriched with leopard print skin. So far for a good trouble free Arizona and New Mexico vacation. We had to cancel our North New Mexico loop because both Mr Wonderful and wife were sick, and on top we had to go and see a doctor. Which is not my idea of a holiday, but OK... If desperate enough, you move...
So that is what we did after arriving in Phoenix on sunday night. We drove all the way back from Las Cruces to Phoenix, with a couple of stops for soup and tea, and I could urge Mr Wonderful to the edge of the road to stop for an oncoming train, so I could snap it. It honked at us, a nice gesture from the train driver, I waved to the invisible one high in this engine, and he kept thundering by for 10 minutes or so, that is how long that train was... Pictures later.
Mr Wonderful being sick as a dog too managed to get us in Phoenix safe and sound, he drove the whole time, he does take care of the people he loves, even when he needs as much care and attention himself.

As mentioned we both needed a doctor... No cat pee in the States. We have insurance, for both inland and abroad, but our insurance provider was not sure if they wanted to take us. Major bummer, why do you have insurance if you can’t use it... After an hour long struggle and a phone call to England, hubby managed to set up an appointment, not after having filled in a tremendous heap of stuff online, and passing on the to fill in form to me. Gosh, they wanted to know what the format of our egg and sperm collision was at the moment of our conceiving. Or almost...

Anyone regular reading this blog knows how fond I am of doctors, my experience with the american doctors services are somewhat mixed.
Yes, we got treatment, nope, we had to pay for the medication, nope, it did not work as it got me all allerged up, so I ended up with above said Bigger Jolie lips even and blotched skin, with the result that we had to go back to the doctor. Still following?

And after filling in our online forms, with all the possible medical history transcripts possible, at entry in the walk in clinic, we had to sign another form with two pages of signatures, which made me even more crabby then I already was.
For god sakes, you go to a doctor with a brain in mush, and they make you sign all this garbage, coming down to “if you are not careful, we will make you pay dearly... in monetary speak and in medical speak”.
I have no clue what I signed, but Mr Wonderful did it too, so if we signed off our 401 K to Urgent Care, we will have to figure out something.
I do not like this... What happens if you cut off your arm in an axe accident and are in urgent need of treatment?
Sorry Mister, you can’t sign so we can’t treat you... Harp, harp...

I want our Belgian system of a house doctor installed in the States. You make a call and he or she either comes or you go to him or her. Easy as cake.. No forms, they know your history as they have been treating you for ages, and you are never refused treatment for a paper form...
The only thing I really liked in the room was a print of spring bloom on Superstition Mountain.

To make a long story short, even after filling in all those darn forms with total Medical History dating back to conceiving they still managed to subscribe drugs that gave a violent allergic reaction, so I am now on prednisone and another antibiotic package. Nice...
We also did not get our money back for the allergy causing pills and we had to add to the bill with another 20 dollar for the new medication.
I am beginning to see why medical costs can rise sky high in the land of freedom and well being. You’d better not be sick in the States.
You’d better not be sick anywhere of course, but if you have a choice, go for Belgium, excellent care and only minimal formalities...
And main point: you don’t have to battle your own medical insurance to get insurance when you need it.

Having said all that, this morning was the morning for the installment of the 44th President of the United States.
We could follow it all live, from 5 AM till 4AM of the next day, as it was covered wide and long.

I have some doubts about Obama, but I guess we should give him a chance to put his words into actions, and from the European point of view, it can’t be worse then the 43th President...

Washington was crammed, numbers came up between two million and four million people wanting to be there. And being there, if we pick the middle, 3 million is still a huge amount of people to be on the streets and in the parks.

We saw different shots from the filled Mall as they call it, a sea of faces, even with the zero temperatures going on in town.
No 80 degrees like in Phoenix Arizona. I don’t think I would be tempted to go, I was tempted though to watch tele and see it happen from my couch.

And no problem, if you had to work that day or visit a doctor, America has television sets in almost every store or job place.
It meant that we could more or less follow it all. We heard the speach in the car, and later catched up on the image via the reruns back at home.

I must admit that his speech touched a string, I just hope that his words will indeed create a new and better America. He does not lack will power or drive. Now if that is put to good use, we could have a changed world in a couple of years.

Big question is of course if the Money world and the lobbying kind will let him do what he wants to do, and if what he wants to do finally gets to the people who need it: the poor and needy ones in the States. And then it will maybe branch out to the other parts of our planet, as the gap between rich and poor countries seems to widen day by day.

In between the normal political shots and speeches, I tried to look for the human side of it all, and had some preferred moments on this day.
I loved the small boy with his green Periscope, he had brought it with him all the way from Alabama if I am correct, and hoped to spot a worth while image with it... Cool little fella...

I suspect to see his face on some newspapers today, as lots of reporters were looking for individual stories in the big story...

Who really stole my heart was the seven year old daughter of the president, Sasja, dressed in a cute pink coat, skipping down the path to where it was all happening. She was happy and showed it.
It will be good to have kids in the White House again, as kids see the world with better eyes. I sincerely hope that the White House does not break up this family, as seen before, and that the kids bring in new life and meaning.
The second moment that got me was when the new appointed president danced with his wife, if body language really speaks, I heard good things.

To finish off this interesting day in History, some marching band pics, I felt bad for the Hawaian band, as they are not used to cold temperatures, they had tears running down their faces and dripping noses. But the Band played on...

History will teach us if the Americans took the right vote, it is a good thing to have an Afro American president for the first time, he might prove all his white fore goers wrong... Who knows...

Today America will be back to normal more or less, Mr Wonderful et moi will continue to chill out, and hopefully are back on track for our trip back home.
I have lots and lots more pics to share, the story will go on in England, our trip was less relaxing then we had hoped for, but we still got lots of sun and warm weather, and I did get to see the Missions in El Paso, I have stock for blog material. Grin...

Back to bed now, It’s 4.30 in the night here in Phoenix, the blog call has been answered, now I can go sleep some more...
Talk later, and be on the look out if you love the Missions of the South West. Some will come up on this blog in a couple of days...

Goodnight Mr President....

Angelina Jolie lips....

Are very beautiful on Angelina, but not on me. And since yesterday I do have unwanted Angelina lips. Mr Wonderful et moi have been taking medication all week trying to get to grips with cold-flu-whatever virus it is. The day before yesterday I tried out a new thing, and woke up with Jolie lips. I look horrendous. Nice, I can walk around in Las Cruces looking like a faint clone of La Jolie... She will eventually fit my body, if she gets to baby nr 15, for now, it is only our bodies that are different.
In fact, we were going to leave Las Cruces and the Chamberlains today for our trip to Albuquerque, and my visit and shooting the mission church of San Juan de Laguna, but this plan has been cancelled. We both need rest, coughing through the whole night keeps us both awake, and we are not getting any better. Darn it... I could have been sick in England, it would not have mattered if it took six weeks there...
So today we will head back to Phoenix, the same way we came, instead of making the loop North and see some more of New Mexico.
Tough... I will not have the pics that I wanted, but the ones I have will have to do.

We left Tortilla Flats as I told you all, leaving the Indian

the cowboy

and the dead tree behind.

A new leg on our trip to cover Highway 188 in Arizona. Phoenix-Apache Junction-Tortilla-Globe-BackToPhoenix. A very nice drive through real wilderness. With its own rules and guidelines. If a good soul has placed a sign to not drive faster then 15 miles an hour, they meant it.
If you go faster, you will dive into the canyon and end up like some other rusty car left overs we see...

We are heading north East on a tarmac road, when suddenly the road vanishes to go over in a dirt path. I kid you not...

The only road between Tortilla and Roosevelt Dam is a dirt road, 22 miles long.

Behind us the nicely paved road, in front of us, nature trail...

We are in fact on the ancient Apache trail, used by natives before the whites came in and stepped their foots down. And the dirt trail does go over the tops, with the canyon luring on our side, to take a steep dive back into the valley, a gradient that is close to 25 degrees.

The views are spectacular, but my mind wonders if it is worth risking our lives for it.
I command Mr Wonderful to go slow, and no messing please. I mean it. I am convinced that we will fall of the cliffs, as the road is only just wide enough to let two sedans pass. Carefully.
We stop at some of the designated viewpoints, a bit of respite from the dead ride, and can absorbe wild and gracious, mountains and passes, not spoiled so far by huge human populations.

Mr Wonderful and his brother know this area, they came here as teens, trying out the new cars. Trying out speed and how fast.
Too much information, I don’t want to know and I don’t want a repeat from their teenage stunts.
From each view point you can see the next stretch of dirt road winding up or down, and cars look very small in this landscape.

For each bend a sign tells you how the road will curve, and if it is a single almost u-turn or double.

And it is all my fault, as I was the one wanting to do the Highway 188. I had read about it and wanted to experience what it was like.
Now I am... I am holding on to my car buckle as if my life depended on it. It probably does...

As we go up and down into the mountains, the sun is starting to set, and sides of mountains hide in black, while the sun side is still lit up.
The Palo Verdes have a silver shine. A wonderful sight, like so many we have seen already on this trip.
We climb up one more time, and there is Roosevelt Dam, a masterpiece of ingeneering in an otherwise unspoilt world.

Behind the dam the lake, holding up the water, they have the irrigation and water management down in Arizona. They know the value of water, and have invested big time in serious dams. At the cost of human lives. It is somewhat weird to get out of the woods, on just a small dirt path, to suddenly see the dam high above you. Impressive!

The Salt River has been dammed in and is used to its best possibilities. Floods and unwanted water are canalized via the Dam, so people are more safe in the valley, no more deadly floods destroying everything in the raging river’s path after winter.

I wonder who the people are who work in this desolate place. Some cars are parked, the dam has a powerplant after all, and somebody has to work and control it.

The turbine house looks like a toy lego house from where we stand. Amazing...

We climb up one more time, and leave the Dam behind us. Of course we have to drive over the new bridge, and back, so the boys can say they drove over Roosevelt Dam Bridge, and slowly we notice more signs of civilization. Power cables, golden shining in the setting sun.

Back to Phoenix over Globe and Miami. I love the low light of the evening, it gives all things a magical touch.

The sky behind the mountains is coloring more red and orange, a suitable sunset after a day full of wild mountains and valleys.

More in my next installment, talk soon. Back to Phoenix now. Hope you are all enjoying the views of the West...

A jackalope and a loo with a view

We are still cruising the real West. Where centuries ago, the speed of you drawing a gun could mean the difference between life and death. Not always for the right party. Lawlessness was ruling. Today, it is a bit more quiet. On our way to Tortilla Flat we see spectacular landscapes. The kind you see in a D-Max theatre, filmed for National Geographic. Except this is for real, I am not hanging in a couch in front of a screen, nope, this is the real thing. AND I AM IN IT!

We are in Tonto National Park, and the speed limits are low. Which is great. I can easily snap while Aaron is driving, only now and then do I ask him to stop, if I suspect that what I want to snap will not work driving...

Depending on where the sun is in relation to us the colors change too. All is bleached out when looking in the direction of the sun, we get a warm deep blue looking the other way. The sky is really that blue in Arizona and the rest of the South West. One does not need a bucket of blue to paint it in.

The rocks are ageless, dating back to big bangs and earth plates moving. The creating of the scenery of the West must have been in a very violent time and transformation. And at a certain point the Saguarro’s and other prickly attributes came along, making the landscape one to never forget. It seems that there are only two ways to go about the South West: you hate it or love it, both with a passion.
I am a firm lover, give me landscapes like this and I feel blessed and small at the same time. Men means nothing in this region where Nature is still Nature, the “Wilderness” as it is lovingly called.

How small man is shows in Brian and a saguarro. Brian is not a small man, he is over six foot two, but he does not reach the first arm of Mr. Saguarro. Proportions proportions!

This is a different range then the Maandagweg in Belgium that we struggled to get on with our bikes, or Clint Bank in Birstwith...
High rise passes over high rise mountains. We are far above sea level, I am guessing between 4000 feet or 7000 feet. I read it somewhere but need to look it up. No internet connection right now, so no way of finding out... And no, no internet in the wilderness....

Finally, after turning one more bend on the small mountain road, we end up in a movie scene. The modern day cars are out of place, the buildings tell us John Wayne and Clint Eastwood, 1870’s, reality shows us huge pick up trucks and motor bikes.
we have reached Tortilla Flat. A town so small that it is owned by one family at the time, it has been sold once for 25.000 dollars. Only in the South West of America could one buy his own town.

And it is here that I find the Jackalope. I keep looking at it and it confuses me highly. Is this a rabbit? Is it a deer with a rabbits face?
Is it a small antelope with tiny antlers? But it has the face of a rabbit??? What is this thing? It’s also a stuffed animal, how did it die? Who found it? Is it a general appearing animal here in the high mountains of Arizona?
My questions only end up in giggling people around me. When I shout to Aaron in the distance “is it a deer or a rabbit” some of the onlookers can’t hold their laughing anymore. Another stupid stranger in town. If I would have been a local I would have known that it is a fake creature. They call it a Jackalope, and I feel totally silly. It’s a mix between a giant hare and a small deer. It does not exist. Not in real creation.
Now I need to find out where it comes from, who invented it and why. It must have a story more then showing silly tourists how silly they can be, it highly amuses the locals.

Time for lunch, in the only lunchplace the town has, a gold mine... If you want to eat, this is the place to go. The walls are covered with dollar bills, and the custom is that you put your name and well wishes on the dollar, the people working in the place will then find a spot to pin it down. Half the world has been here before, people from all over the globe come and visit the quirky town high in the Arizona Mountains.

Several “Old West” attributes adorn the walls, I love the old cowboy bootie, worn out, the top leather giving way. There is history here, not as old as the Greeks and the Maya’s or Romans, closer to our bed, nonetheless history.
I need a wee badly and find my way to the loos. I hear a lot of laughter behind the door, and it becomes clear why as I enter.
Somebody painted the loos, every door as a different lady, and it is custom that when you go in, you pop your head over the door to look utterly silly for the second time...

First the Jackelope, then the loos... Lots of cowboy humor in this town.
But the view from the loo to the outside is to die for. So I take the silly with it.

A little old 98 year old lady with blue hair asks me with a trembling voice if I could take a picture of her and John Wayne to show to her neighbour Fanny May when she gets home... Sure Ma’am, give me your camera and we will make it happen.

She hands over her tiny film camera, and I sure hope the picture will come out. Not every day that one meets John Wayne. The 98 year old one leaves with a big smile. I have done my good dead for the day...
Brian and Mr Wonderful have finished their lunch, I have no idea if the men’s loos are dressed up too and I am not going to take a risk to find out. This is prude America after all... A woman sneeking into the Men’s might not be a good thing to do.

We leave Tortilla on our way to Roosevelt Dam, and have no clue about what we will encounter a few miles down the road.
I will tell you about it in my next entry... And yes, we have to enter the Ford even when the sign says not to enter when flooded. It’s not deep, only a couple of inches of water. The sign is for winter, when mountain streams rage down and take everything in their destructive path... Not so today. We will live to tell the tale of what is coming next...

Talk later!

The old old West...

Where to start, we have landed in Las Cruces, sort off, both Mr Wonderful and me are sick as dogs, and driving around in the South West is not exactly good if you are not a hundred percent. So we try to catch up on sleep when we can, neither of us wants to be slowed down by being sick, goddammed, we are only in the States for fourteen days, no way are we going to spend 10 days in bed. Sniffing and snorkling...

I am way behind in telling about my adventures, but ok, I can always continue when we get back home, a day at the time.
On Tuesday, we were still trailing along the Old Indian paths through the wilderness, not so much wilderness anymore. A decent road runs through the prickly stuff, as long as you stay on the road you are fine.

And it’s winter, which means that creepy crawley’s are hibernating, deep under the rocks or the sand.
We did see a coyote cross the road, a beautiful animal, grey-ish, with a thick tail. I thought it was pretty miraculous, me, the simple belgian, driving along in the South West, seeing a coyote on tuesday...
Lots of different things on tuesday. We leave the super modern city of Phoenix, drive for 15 minutes, and are out in the boondocks, where Mother Nature reigns.
Amazing!

We drive on a crinkly road, up and down, stop now and then to have a walk and see and smell some of the outside. Saguarro’s are everywhere.
This must be Saguarro Paradise.
We also spent some time at the Superstition Mountain Museum. they are working hard to make it more vialble, and get more exhibitions. It is hard, as the extreme conditions in desert area’s don’t leave much room for left overs. If a wooden house is not kept up in the desert, it goes back to dust. What the americans call prehistoric or antique is often less then a hundred years old, just because those harsh survival conditions.

They try hard in the Superstition museum. Bits and pieces from stables, saloons, saddle makers, a nice display. Not like the British Museum, but then the British museum does not have to fight dust and 100 degrees sun the whole summer long...

Some displays show the wind mills, and how they work for humanity in getting water out of the dry ground, and how much easier life became in the desert when pumping water from wells was no longer handwork.

Funny to see saddles in real. I normally see them only in cowboy movies. When I touch them, and see them up close, I can feel the craft man ship that went into making those. Horses were the most common travel way, a good saddle must have been bliss.

We walk into the shop of a black smith. He is both, past and present. He is a black smith working both the old ways and the new ways.
His tools are mixed, ancient ones for the facsimile pieces he wants to craft, and some Black and Decker stuff for the more modern demands.

He has a fire going strong, I wonder how he copes with an outside temperature of 100 degrees with a fire inside.

He makes it all, horse irons, saddle embellishments, key holders, his shop smells like soot, a mix of coal and wood. Next door, in the big barn, some more displays, I find the humor on the coffin funny. I can see the funny side of it.

And I do not only shoot inside, I also try to look at some of the plants around. Prickly or not.

I loved this agave, leaves spread around a center, the shades of green and white. There is tenderness in the wild west. I find it in a simple plant.

Next to the Agave, the Devils whip, and taking a close up it becomes very clear why it is called the name it is called. Long tailed sprouted sprigs, all coming from one base, dangerous in more then one way.

The desert is not for weenies... I have no idea how the first settlers with women and kids could get through this landscape, as it is so determined to keep people out or at a distance.
I feel so utterly lucky that I am able to see all that. I read about it as a kid, Winnetou and old Shatterhand, cowboys and indians, Karl May sparked my imagination. Never thought that one day I would see all those far out places.
In my next entry, I will introduce you to the Jackalope. A mix between rabbit and antelope... A very strange animal...
More about that one coming up....
We are enjoying the nice weather in the mean time, in the seventies, we are having summer in january...

Talk later!

Elvis is alive, I saw him...

Not too far from where my mother in law lives. We took the road yesterday looking for Tortilla Flat. I read about it, and about the magic highway 88, an old one. Running through one of the wildest parts of Arizona. And I like wild. At least when I have a car to shelter in.

Nothing willd on the freeways in and around Phoenix, but the mountains were luring in the distance. Always a happy sight. I thrive on mountain views.
Never get bored with them, give me a mountain to go and roam on and I am happy.

We wanted direction East, Globe, where I went on my own last year, but this time we planned on going the other way around, starting at Apache Junction, and over Tortilla Flat back over Globe to Phoenix. A days drive, at our tempo, as we want to stop to see the views. Japanese style tour I would say, but not really, we do take some more time at the view points. Plenty of those on the itinerary, so we are good for the day.

A couple of new stretches of Phoenix Freeways, every time we come back, we find a new piece of road, what last year was open land has now a four lane highway on it. Civilization growing. Maybe at a too fast pace...

Our first goal for the day is Superstition Mountain and area. No more freeway, smaller two lane roads, with a bright yellow marker in the middle.
Saguarro’s in abundance, standing fierce like little man, arms high and back sturday. We even find a biker.

It’s the 3 of us, Mr Wonderful, his brother Brian and me, all of us with a passion for the South West. Can’t go wrong today.
Big patches of dry land, with fences of barbed wire.

I have no gun, so no target shooting for me.
The rock is rising high in front of us. Superstition Mountain, and a Dutch’s man lost mine... What was a Dutch man doing so far from home, well, digging for gold of course. It’s wilderness allright, and we spot a very alive and healthy coyote cross the road. Sadly enough I was too slow with my camera, it vanished without me able to shoot it. Darn it...

Superstition Mountain is surrounded with vast spaces littered with mesquite, and a great number of big Saguarro’s.
I am hopeful that we might see another coyote, but nope, my luck ran out, we do find two small dogs, belonging to the Museum of Superstition Mountain.

The Black and brown one is good enough, I am careful with the smaller one, it growls, and I trust those tiny yappers to snap...

They pose nicely for a portrait, twelves years old, and the tiny one, 3 years old.

The volunteers working at the museum are all around the healthy age of 95 at least. Perky seniors, full of stories, willing to tell us things if they feel interest.
Time to look around a bit, trinkets and plants, wood carvings. Some real artists here...
I find a wonderful eagle, richley colored, and an owl. They are ready to fly out of the piece of wood that is holding them captive.

I could imagine the eagle gliding over the rugged mountain...

And of course there is nature to spot. In big and little things. I am trying to snap a cholla with my macro lens, as close as I can, when my brother in law calls me back and tells me to keep more of a distance. These things can move in the wind, and with the slightest touch, will jump off and splinter needles, and hospital is the only way to get rid of them. Sjeesh... I know nothing about desert, why do I want to walk around. I am a danger to myself with not knowing enough...
For now, I stay further away from the Cholla’s, and realise that I have been lucky so far. I have been very close to them on certain ocassions.

They look kind of cute, but are nasty...

They have a soft fluffy look if you see them against the clear blue sky above us.
A hostile environment, I need to read up.

A bit further I see a warning sign against the Cholla’s. Got it. Stay away from them, or shoot them with a tele lens.
On the same terrain, we find a little Laura Ingalls Chapel, wonderful. I must be dreaming.

The door is open, and I decide to go closer and have a look. Wondering what we will find inside. Not finding what we think should be there.
At the altar stands... Elvis.

I am not kidding, a life format card board Elvis. Later on the day I will find John Wayne, not in a chapel, but also in cardboard.

It turns out that Charro was filmed here, a movie with Elvis Presley, I had no idea that he at one time was a cowboy. Shaking hips and low voice in cowboy clothes.
Another volunteer tells us a bit of the story around the church. Roy has a well trimmed moustache, and does not show his age.

Roy, a true toy boy... an alert in his eyes, old is not done in the States. Seniors have a vivid role to play in daily life. More then in Europe I find.
This gentleman would probbably spend his days in an old people’s home, sitting in a wheel chair, if he would live in England.
Here, they find a new thing to do after retiring, and stay young at heart. Way to go Roy...

Keep telling the visitors about Elvis and how he filmed on this location.
Off to Tortilla Flat, a tiny place in a big lost place: the south west wilderness.

More adventures soon... We pack up today to go to Tucson, and tomorrow we drive on to Las Cruces, New Mexico. Woohooo!