Dabbles and Travels

One October 27th Day

2010-10-27T14:53:00.000-07:00

It is an absolutely fine fall day today. This beautiful October 27th day is fine and lovely in its essence. I walked to my car around 2 in the afternoon and was taken with how soft, subtle and fresh the autumn air was, how nice it felt on my skin. I asked Aaron just the other day, "do you ever miss that we don't get traditional seasons?" We were watching a documentary and it was set somewhere in Pennsylvvania or upper state New York, the kind of perfect East Coast setting where the seasons change perceptibly and on schedule. You know, the kind of area where ladies really don't where white after Labor Day, and elderly gentlemen stroll around their gently rolling and perfectly green farm lands wearing worn tweeds and smoking from those wizened pipes. I digress and get lost into my imagination, once again.

Backtracking...we were watching this documentary and it was set, like I said, in one of those places where they actually get Four Seasons. And I am an autumn lover (though I profess to love all seasons - cold, hot, windy, rainy, I don't care. Seasonality is romantic, no matter where you are!), so I was extremely taken with how pretty the deciduous trees looked with their changing leaves, brilliant in color and contrasting against a bright blue sky. How enchanting the trees looked scattered all over the rich verdant farmland, the beautiful green fields sopping wet from the rain the evening before.

Taken, as I said, by this little snippet of a scene, I turned to Aaron..."Do you ever miss that we never get Four Seasons?"

I don't remember what his reply was, but I know we are both content to live and settle in Central California. Both of us are West Coast-ers at heart so we've experienced more temperate seasonal changes and are "okay" with this different type of weather. We are learning to cope with the warmer summer weather and the fact that up until two weeks ago, temperatures were still in the upper 90s.

I've always said that I love to travel. I never realized why until this year. I happen to be a creature who is very sensitive to my environment, my place, the landscape of my life. I enjoy experiencing Weather and Seasons in Other Places. Why? It's romantic, it's the essence of life! I've been all over, many places, but what do I recall this instance? One memory comes to mind:

Summer in Mexico City and surrounding environs:

Summer in Mexico is rainy. Except the rain falls ever so conveniently, in the late afternoon and into the evening. I remember knowing and feeling this distinctly, my first evening in the impressive capital city. My classmates and I had arrived, were tired, and were weary of being shuffled from airport to plane to airport to taxi, to hotel, to bus, and on and on. We finished our evening meal at Sanborns. As we walked the few blocks back to our temporary abode, the rain began. Sprinkling at first and then an almost torrential downpour. I loved it, how intoxicating. But then again, being a Pacific Northwesterner to the bone, I think I can boast that I am accustomed to Rain.

Simply, I was enchanted. And as I returned to my room, I heard a band begin to play and a singer sing, a beautiful Spanish melody. The band was playing in the rain, sheltered by a gazebo so perfectly situated across the street in the zocalo, the town square, where every late afternoon, residents meet to see and be seen, to enjoy the gardens, to socialize. The band was playing and I was listening and the rain kept pouring. I pushed open the old creaking shuttered windows and watched and listened as the sounds of rain and that beautiful rich melody seeped into my room and into my consciousness, to be a forever memory. This was my first evening in Mexico in the Summer of 2004.

Fall finally came to us these last few weeks. Grapes have been harvested, leaves are turning colors. Halloween is on the brain. The rains are returning and Aaron and I have a fire most evenings now. I must move along from this writing and say goodbye for today. But today is an example of a time when my happiness can actually be attributed to a source - and it really is that there is so much beauty and poetry in nature, that what else do we need? I learned this from a lovely artist lady back in Washington. Does she even know who she is?

Goodbye for now!

Rachel Turner
Adventurer, Explorer and part-time Doodler.

Saturday Lunch

2008-05-03T13:40:00.001-07:00

It is a day for housework. With company coming and a dozen projects on the go, it is time to dust, polish, clear clutter, and get a wee bit more organized, something very difficult for two beings, two who are somewhat morally opposed to the Art of Organization.

An hour of fruitful productive labor and I feel hunger pains. What’s for lunch? It must be quick, it must utilize my pantry, and most of all, it must walk the line of pleasing both
Aaron’s and my taste buds, a difficult task in and of itself.

Inspired by the air of productivity, and the cool spring sunshine pouring through the large kitchen windows, I root through the fridge, the spice cabinet and the pantry and this is what I came up with…

Tuna Melts with dill, finely minced olives, spinach, thinly sliced Pink Lady apples and white cheddar cheese.

Wilted Spinach salad with assorted heirloom tomatoes, cut and lightly salted, hastily crumbled feta cheese and tossed with balsamic vinaigrette.

The Finishing Touch (for Aaron): a small glass of chocolate milk made especially for him, with soymilk and Abuelitas chocolate syrup.

Although learning to cook and otherwise assemble food has been a challenge for me, I consider our Saturday Lunch to be a success. And without further ado, I shall head back into the kitchen to tidy up…

Midnight on Tax Day

2008-04-15T19:48:00.000-07:00

April 15th - I day I dread more and more every year for these past three. Why? Probably because that time marked the advent of my helping Aaron with his - Schedule C, Profit and Loss, Quarterly Sales (always file late!), and the big 1040.

Only two years ago, I came to the realization that you could actually wait until the final second on April 15th to file your taxes. You do have to give yourself about 15 minutes to make the drive down to the designated post office. But, so long as you drop your return with a resounding thump into that blue box before the stroke hits midnight, you are fine and owe no penalty.

I think it's going to be an annual thing for Aaron and I, both of us resolute procrastinators. With a sigh of relief, we will hit that post office and wait in a line of cars. In a way, there's a festivity about this when you are joined hand in hand with fellow procrastinators, all honking, yipping, hip hip hurrah! Taxes are done!

An update on my taxes:

All I need to do is print, but am, true to form, putting that off for another few hours.

An update on Aaron's taxes:

Not done. In his case, we failed, but I'm sure I can wing out an extension form at the last minute!!!!

2008-03-31T21:25:00.000-07:00

The Night and the House

The house is silent. Quiet has crept forth, moving softly from room to room. One would never know that this is home to three twenty-somethings and two young dogs. It is the twilight hour of a household, that blissful period in which everything which turns upon the face of the earth slows to a standstill and all is at rest, though not yet asleep. Trilo, the youngest dog, who is always youthful and full of vigor is now drowsy. First one and then the other, four paws with limbs climb their way onto the old sofa. Curling into a ball beside me, he has made a nest of sorts, cushioning himself between me and a pillow - spoiled dog! He props his large, furry, soft head on my knee. And I feel content.

The house, though not spotless, is clean. The clutter, though it is as much part of our home as any decor, is contained. Surfaces, such as desks and coffee tables are visible. The dishes are washed and put away. The yard mowed, the plants watered. Work has come and gone and will continue to come and go. We have worked hard today.

All is well in the world tonight...

A passage from Pippa Passes

The year's at the spring,

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hill-side's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn;

God's in his Heaven -

All's right with the world!

The Visit - Part One; The Sisters, the Sister's Boyfriend, and the Dogs come to stay

2008-03-28T21:18:00.000-07:00

What an odd and somewhat disconcerting feeling to have one's house big, silent, and empty after two weeks of non-stop company. Even Trilo's having trouble adjusting to the quiet. Aaron reported that he was sullen and depressed all day after the loss of his newly discovered and greatly cherished playmates, Taj & Hannity. I took pity on him tonight and played his favorite game with him, "Hide the Object and Trilo Finds!". That cheered him up.

I have to say, three big dogs in a house is actually not bad! I've told Aaron that I consider it to be a good number - the animals entertain each other and you get to observe the action and interaction of three completely different dog personalities.

It was truly lovely having Sarah, Evelyn, Marshall and the dogs come for a visit. In fact, whenever anyone else feels like soaking in the California sun, say the word.

The Prison

The Tourist Highlight of the past two weeks, was for me, going to Alcatraz. I have a weakness for state parks, spending limitless time exploring rough terrain, bird-watching, plant admiring, and such. When this is combined with History and Prison Folk Lore, along with a smattering of old, antiquated buildings, this is Rachel's recipe for a successful adventure. The audio tour was amazing, allowing us to listen while touring, instead of reading too many placards as are usually associated with museums.

The Flea Market

Another fun thing we did both weekends, was to visit our local and extensive flea market. We all found deals and there was some carnival like entertainment as one bald-headed gent wrapped an eight foot python around Evelyn's neck. I can see why snakes are sometimes used as jewelry adornments. The glittery diamond-patched skin really brought out the twinkle in Evie's eyes. The biggest buy for all of us was produce. Fresh fruits and veggies are sold every week here at seriously reduced prices. This bountiful supply of fresh produce likewise encouraged us to eat at home more often then nought.

Some of our Meals Together

Chile rellenos - Aaron took the lead on this one.
Home-made Salsa
New potatoes and potato pancakes.
Chicken quesadillas stuffed with chicken, onions, bell peppers, fresh cheeses and cilantro.
Cornish hens with various veggie sides and even on one occasion, stuffing.
Grilled pineapple - actually quite a tasty thing.
The very-British Sauteed mushrooms, poached eggs, & dijon mustard on toast (Thanks Marshall!)

*** Evelyn even got up at six one morning to send me to work with home-made from scratch pancakes in my stomach.*****

It was the Homiest of Homes for the past two weeks, with warm spring creeping us to bless our reunion. A happy time... except for one thing and that is that still we were always missing someone. Dear Mom, Dad, Chuck, Marlene, Debbie, Ava, Grace, Ben, & Marissa. We spoke of you with heartfelt love. We reminisced over the best of the years gone by, and we missed you! How hard it is to have family stretched over thousands of miles. And yet, nice to know that one has family all the same.

Happy Belated Easter and Happy Upcoming Passover!

P.S. Pictures to post! Coming Soon...

A simple love song

2007-12-22T23:23:00.000-08:00

Last night, I had a brief conversation with someone that turned around this central point: the most beautiful things are also the simplest in concept.

I discovered my favorite love song. It took a commercial,the Internet, and some key searching phrases. It is a rather off-the-beaten-track way of finding a favorite. It is so simple and sweet.

"How Can I Tell You"
by Cat Stevens

How can I tell you that I love you, I love you
But I can't think of right words to say
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you
I'm always thinking of you, but my words
Just blow away, just blow away
It always ends up to one thing, honey
And I can't think of right words to say
Wherever I am girl, I'm always walking with you
I'm always walking with you, but I look and you're not there
Whoever I'm with, I'm always, always talking to you
I'm always talking to you, and I'm sad that
You can't hear, sad that you can't hear
It always ends up to one thing, honey,
When I look and you're not there
I need to know you, need to feel my arms around you
Feel my arms around you, like a sea around a shore
And -- each night and day I pray, in hope
That I might find you, in hope that I might
Find you, because heart's can do no more
It always ends up to one thing honey, still I kneel upon the floor
How can I tell you that I love you, I love you
But I can't think of right words to say
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you
I'm always thinking of you....
It always ends up to one thing honey
And I can't think of right words to say

A New Job

2007-08-03T10:26:00.001-07:00

In three days, on Monday August 6th, I will formally start my new job. As the Administrative Assistant to the Director of Human Resources for an elementary school district, I will, in fact, be a secretary. Four years in university, three+ years genuine work experience culminating in a position that requires good typing and editing skills, phone etiquette, knowledge over the finer points of filing, etc.

And quite frankly, I'm excited.

A) I'll be working in an academic setting. Not only will this afford me the pleasure of supporting an institution that directly leads to learning and growth in others, but I myself will be supported in my own educational endeavors.

B) I met everyone in this department and I was immediately made to feel welcome. My co-workers are so friendly and warm, and I'm interested to know them more and work as part of their team.

C) It always helps to feel capable in your job. I know I can handle this job and I know that it suits both my personality and my skill level.

and D) When I was interviewed, I talked with boss about the idea that a job, even if secretarial in nature, can never really be summed up in a few bullet points. One day, I may be required to help receive visitors and process paperwork and the next day, my boss may need my assistance designing a training booklet. Every day, will bring fresh challenges, new people to meet, and various duties to complete.

And so, I look forward to this job with high spirits, knowing that I have the right fit.

La Virgen de Guadalupe

2007-06-01T12:39:00.000-07:00

I've taken this story about the appearance of the Virgin of Guadalupe from the reference text I used during my study abroad...

In December of 1531, Juan Diego, a poor Indian, was heading toward the city to attend mass. Suddenly, on the hill of Tepeyac, he heard divine music and he smelled a most fragrant perfume. Then, in a cloud of light, he saw a woman standing in the pathway in front of him. She was a beautiful lady, dark like a Mexican woman, with an angelic expression.

Juan was afraid: He didn't know what to do or what to say.

"Don't be afraid. I am the Virgin Mary," the woman said in a sweet voice. "I have come to ask for your help, Juan."

"I am a poor and humble Indian. How can I help the Holy Mother?" Juan answered.

"It is very easy. Go tell the Bishop to build me a church here," the Virgin said.

So the Indian quickly went to the Bishop. He told him about the Virgin and what she wanted. But the Bishop did not believe such a fantastic story.

"Impossible!" the good man answered. "I need proof of this."

Very sad and confused, Juan returned home. But once again, on the hill of Tepeyac, he saw the Virgin and he told her that the Bishop wanted proof.

"Very well, tomorrow at this very spot I'm going to give you the proof that the Bishop wants," the Virgin said.

When Juan arrived at his house, he found out that his uncle was very sick and wanted the blessing of the local priest before dying.

The next morning, Juan went to get the priest. Once again, he saw the Virgin in the same place.

"Where are you going, Juan?" the Virgin asked.

"Oh, Holy Mother, I'm going to the priest's house. My uncle is very sick and he wants his blessing."

"From this moment on, your uncle is in perfect health," the Virgin answered. "And now, Juan, gather up the roses that are growing at your feet and take them to the Bishop. Tell him that the Virgin of Guadalupe is going to take care of the Indians of Mexico forever."

You can imagine Juan's surprise when the Virgin spoke of roses because only cactus grew in that area. But when he looked at his feet, he saw the most beautiful and fragrant roses. He picked up a bunch and put them in his blanket. Then he ran to the Bishop's house.

"Now I bring you some proof," Juan said.

When he opened the blanket, the roses fell to the floor. But now, there was another surprise. There on the blanket, in very beautiful colors, was painted the portrait of the Virgin. Now the Bishop didn't need further proof.

On the hill, in the same spot were Juan gathered the roses on December 12, 1531, there is a small chapel. And at the foot of the hill, there is a very large and beautiful church , the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Above the altar, in full view, is Juan Diego's blanket with the portrait of the Holy Virgin.

Oaxaca, Oaxaca

2007-05-31T14:20:00.000-07:00

This is my favorite spot in Mexico. My boyfriend, Aaron, and I stumbled across this colonial city when we decided to head east from the west coast surfer town of Puerto Escondido.

A 3+ hour drive along a windy mountainous road caused some motion sickness on my part, but it was well worth it. On the drive, you see rural Mexican life in action - donkeys, not cars for transportation, subsistence farming in which the whole family works to support their livelihood, and small villages perched precariously on top of thin mountain ridges. To me, the most memorable image was the sight of small elderly women hunched over with bundles of wood strapped to their tiny backs.

After this arduous drive (no gas stops along the way, so prepare yourself if you make this trip!), we descended the final mountain range and found ourselves in the capital city of Oaxaca, which carries the same name as the state.

What is there to love about Oaxaca? In my opinion, Oaxaca is to Mexico what Edinburgh is to Great Britain. Much smaller than Mexico City, easily navigated on foot, and quaint old-fashioned buildings make this place a wonderful watering hole to rest up from your travels, enjoy the culture, and of course, explore.

Stepping into this city is like stepping back in time. Aaron and I arrived, bedraggled, tired, and desperately in need of refreshment and sleep. Within minutes, we found a cute, old-fashioned hotel, named Antonio’s, right in the heart of downtown Oaxaca just a block away from the zocolo, or town square. Here, when language barriers seemed problematic (accents vary throughout Mexico, and in Oaxaca they tend to be much thicker), casual bystanders were always willing to help. The man who helped us this evening reminded me of a gentleman you might encounter in the nineteenth century – full of courtliness and generous hospitality.

The capital city itself offers plenty of shopping, museums, restaurants and nightlife. But for me, sitting in a café by zocolo with a cup of wonderfully strong coffee, and observing the life of the city evolve over a short hour was the finest entertainment of all. Aaron and I spent most of our dining hours in this location, and were on one delightful occasion, served spicy crickets on a pizza. For those who develop a fondness for eating insects, they are readily purchased by any one of the many women carrying baskets of spiced crickets for sale.

The zocolo proved to be a source of vast entertainment. Many times demonstrations were in progress and one could see various political banners waving in the air, followed by the shout of the crowd. Music was plentiful, either wafting out of the restaurants or provided by young children, carrying accordions and with vocal cords seeming fit for the opera.

For those who love a little history and action, you can check out the Zapotec ruins outside of the city, called Monte Alban. Mexicans take pride in their native heritage and have worked extensively to preserve a lot of their archaeological sites. At Monte Alban, due to these reconstruction efforts, one can see a complete example of a Zapotec city. There are some pyramids in this area that have not undergone reconstruction and though old and very weathered, exude a mysteriousness that goes hand in hand with their authenticity.

The beauty of Oaxaca cannot ever be fully rendered in either a photograph, or any piece of writing. It is delightful in so many aspects and has long been one of Mexico’s best-kept secrets.