Oregon

Waiting for Alaska Flight 624

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Had a heck of a time getting out on the plane in the worst storm in the NW in 40 years! After a two hour trip from Salem to the Portland airport over icy washboard Highway 99 because the freeway was plugged with snow plows, the HUT Shuttle driver kindly unloaded my 6 duffels and 2 carry-ons and then helped pile them all onto a cart at the airport. Then, hitting a bump, I dumped the whole load in the middle of the street in front of a block long line of cars! Thanks to the generosity of two young guys who refused a tip, (it’s for our good karma, they said) I made it into the airport! A nice gentleman helped me lift my carry-on into the compartment above on the plane! Now my 42 year old son and his girlfriend are heaping loads of love and care onto me!

May you all enjoy similar care from complete strangers as well as family!

I Picked The Worst Day Ever To Travel

Posted on by Laughingnomad

It was supposed to be a simple trip from Oaxaca to Portland Oregon on December 17th to get stuff for my apartment in Oaxaca.  In the first place the plane was an hour late out of Oaxaca.  So I missed the connection in Mexico City to Los Angeles. About a half hour into the flight we hear a message from the pilot: “This is an emergency! Take one of the oxygen maska and place it on your face!”  But no oxygen masks come down from the ceiling.  A few minutes later we get the same message.  Again nothing happens.  The stewardess is on the phone. Then an announcement in spanish from the stewardess,  that,  I gathered, was that all was a false alarm.  Tranquilo, she says.

Then in Mexico city they rerouted those of us who missed connections to LAX us through Las Vegas.  Three hours out of Mexico City (and almost to Las Vegas) the plane turned back and I ended up where I started…Mexico City.  No more planes out that night so I slept in the airport…the alternative was the Hilton Hotel at the airport for $200 a night!  Next morning finally took a plane out of Mex City to LAX where I waited for a 7:30pm flight.  A half hour wait on the tarmac because the plane door wouldn’t shut.  Finally slid into PDX about 8:30pm on the 18th.  Spent an hour filing a missing baggage report and narrowly got on the HUT for Salem after which I took a taxi to Lyn’s.  So here I am in Salem in the middle of the worst snow and ice in the last 30 years.  But the Toyota started right up and I spent the day today running errands.  Got a phone call late today that my bag turned up at PDX so they will deliver it to the house in Salem. Tomorrow I will pack some duffels full of kitchen and other stuff to take back to Oaxaca.

So for inquiring minds, this is how I got from Oaxaca, Mexico to Salem, Oregon.

On the way back to Oaxaca I’ll stop in Las Vegas to spend Christmas with Greg, my first-born son. Maybe.

Oregon In Summer

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Oregon is most delightful in summer! Everything is so green. And my mouth has been watering for local strawberries, raspberries, peaches and cherries. And Walla Walla Sweet Onions! Cars obey the rules, garbage is picked up and motorcycles don’t try to run you down. And sweet faces of old friends are a joy.
This blog has just been sitting here while I have been planting flowers and maintaining the house for the last month since I’ve been home. I’m not used to house maintenance. I’m not used to making appointments and keeping them on time. My inner mechanisms are a jambles. The world news is upsetting and I’m sick of the negative campaign and mindless pundits. So I have been planting flowers. And enjoying my home. It’s like being in a 5 star hotel after all the cheap guest houses in Asia.

A couple weeks ago I was treated with a visit from two of my sons…Josh and Greg. They were on a mission to see their 92 year old grandmother in Portland. Josh was in between jobs so he spent a few days here and treated me and some of our old friends to a wonderful dinner here at the house…4 hours in the preparation of. Just like old times. I loved the banter. I miss it now. Then he flew to Las Vegas with Greg where he spent a week or so before flying to Hong Kong to join his wife Amy and begin work. They are happy to finally be out of mainland China…especially with the Olympics coming.

I’ll have a month of peace before Doug arrives from Thailand the first week of September…leaving the end of October. And time to catch up on my reading. Finished “Bangkok Blondes,” a book of short stories by expat women living in Bangkok. And “Tales From The Expat Harem,” also a book of short stories by expat women living in Turkey. Now I’m reading a short history of the Balkans where I hope to go next fall.

I am looking forward to leaving the house in the care of a renter in November and returning to Oaxaca Mexico for a couple of months before going to Cuba and Guatemala with an American expat friend in Oaxaca. Then I hope to go on to other Central and South American countries before returning to Oregon next summer. So that’s the deal…taking advantage of a window of time while I am still able to walk and before the cost of airline fuel prohibits any more travel.

In the meantime I spend time on http://www.couchsurfing.com making friends in all the prospective countries I will be visiting. It’s an online community where you hook up with friends and arrange to stay with them…and they with you. And join CS activities in their local communities. If you travel try it! You’ll like it!

Return To Oregon

Posted on by Laughingnomad

After 19 hours traveling from Bangkok to Tokyo to Portland, I am finally home…of course still waking up at night and napping during the day…a vicious cycle.

This is what I have come home to:

Retired Major General Antonio Taguba, who investigated the Abu Ghraib scandal, became one of its casualties.

Now, CNN’s Barbara Starr reports: “One thing perhaps worth noting in this report, is the forward, the preface to the report was written by retired major general Anthony Teguba. He’s the army general that led the investigation into the Abu Ghraib prison scandal. in this report the general says, ‘there is no longer any doubt that the current administration committed war crimes.’ The only question is whether those who ordered torture will be held into account. pretty tough words from a man very well regarded inside the army when he conducted the investigation into Abu Ghraib. For its part, the pentagon continues to say that it deals with detainees in a humane fashion, that there is no policy towards torture, and if there was any misconduct, any abuse, it was in violation of government policy. But this report clearly is a pretty damning indictment if it stands on its own.”

Note: Just before I left Bangkok I was told that to get a visa to Burma an American now has to apply for it in Washington D.C.

A Coincidence

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Last night I opted for a foot massage at a place where the strong Isan masseuses from NE Thailand are trained at Wat Pho (Temple of the Reclining Buddha). Dating from the 16th century, this monastery in Bangkok began as an open university and is still the national headquarters for the teaching and preservation of traditional Thai medicine including Thai massage.

While zoning out in my reclining lounger, an older American couple walked in. Happens that although they are living in Singapore…he still working for Caterpiller Tractors…they are waiting to retire near Klamath Falls Oregon…the city of my birth and where I went to high school!

My Day

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Well, I had quite a day yesterday. My son Doug, visiting me for the last three weeks from Thailand where he lives, woke me at 1 am. We finished getting his banking set up on the internet. Wrote up the family info and took it to Kinkos to get it plastisized. Told him to give a copy to his wife in Thailand and that if anything happened to him that she was to show it to someone who reads English so we could be contacted. Got him set up with frequent flyers..and printed out his boarding pass.

I dropped him off at the curb for his flight back to Thailand, kissed him goodbye, and drove off elatedly. Free as a bird! Went to downtown Portland for a coffee. Then to shop for some clothes at Nordstroms. Everything made in China with crappy fabric and horrible prices. It was either that or high-end designer clothes with even more atrocious prices.

So I went to a movie…”The Darjeeling Limited.” Sneaky good…touching story about three brothers…set on a train in India…and their mother, played by Angelica Huston, who had become a nun in a Himalayan monastery. (This I totally understood!!!) The twenty something boys were whining about her taking off and leaving them and not even going to their father’s funeral. Ha! She finally told them to forget about it and get on with their lives. In other words, grow up. Very instructive for me, I tell you!!!

Then I bought some shoes and went to another store where I had a great conversation with an older woman who waited on me….me laughing at the prices…me telling her the cost of one piece was the price of a plane ticket to BKK…she telling me about living in Singapore when she was young and how she was so shocked by the ostentatiousness of America when she returned…we agreeing that Americans should travel to a third world country at least once in their lives. We ended up laughing about most of the women’s pants out now were low-cut… just the thing for women with poom pooey tummies!

Then I went to another movie ($8.00 tickets) called “I’m Not There,” the creatively constructed story about shape-shifter Bob Dylan amid the insanity of celebrity. Unconventional filmmaker, Todd Haynes, (who wrote the story while living in Portland BTW) cast 6 or 7 different actors (the best one a woman played by Cate Blanchette) who all played the changing personas of Dylan. The very young Dylan was played by a very young black kid (Dylan was supposed to be 11 years old) who claimed to be Woodie Guthrie. Dylan’s name was never mentioned and names were all changed but you knew who the characters were…Joan Baez played by Julianne Moore. If you are familiar with Dylan you will be intrigued by it…much of it ironic…tongue in cheek. Rolling Stone says that Dylan surprisingly gave his permission, through a third party, to use his songs both his own recordings and those performed by others. We are left with no better understanding of Dylan than we had before seeing the movie. That’s as Dylan would want it, I think…he hated being corralled…defined by others…especially by the niggard media. You’d have to see it 50 times to catch all the references of the times and then, unless you were a Dylan freak and were alive in the 60’s, you’d miss. If you are interested, musician/songwriter Peter Stone Brown chronicles the historical packaging of Dylan in a Counterpunch article.

Then I had sushi for dinner…including wonderful ice-cold Uni (sea urchin) from the California coast . Finally paid $16 to get my car out of the parking garage! I’m still in sticker shock after not living in the States for most of the last 6 years!

So that was my splurge. I am new again.

Return To Oregon

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After a year in Oaxaca Mexico I drove through Mexico City (without getting killed) to Queretaro where my old Mexican-American friend, Patsy and her husband Jose, were waiting for me. Patsy and Jose are in Mexico trying to get legal papers for him. Jose helped me get the car repaired and repainted and then Patsy and I took off for the Texas border. We crossed at the Columbia Friendship Bridge about 30 miles west of Loredo..a great option to the Loredo crossing. New, park-like, very few cars; bright friendly border guards. Think it was built as part of the NAFTA trade agreement…

Let me tell you, Texas is a BIG state with not much to see in it! Twelve hours later we hit Las Cruces, New Mexico. Then the next day we drove another twelve hours to Las Vegas where my oldest son, Greg, was awaiting our arrival and where we lounged in comfort and convenience. When Patsy and I went to Vons, a nearby clean orderly grocery store we flew in all directions…excitedly choosing yogurt WITH NO SUGAR, blueberries, raspberries, bagels, familiar cheese! Do you feel like you just crawled out of a hole, I asked Patsy. Yes, she agreed! No in-your-face corruption (just hidden), no late-night apprehensions, arrests and killings! No bullshit bureaucracies..at least not yet.

The next day Patsy flew to Portland Oregon and I stayed behind a couple days to enjoy Greg and a casual catered buffet dinner at his home with his friends…Andy, a Mexican ex-marine from LA and his fiance…two apparently very successful female real estate developers…Las Vegas being the real estate capital of the country at the moment…and the witty gay black caterer and his partner. And Greg’s very best friend…an Iranian anesthesiologist…and his sister. Around the pool that night, after a few lemon-drop martinis, we had a very spirited conversation about immigration…the black guys providing an added dimension to the debate. And best of all, a nice long telephone call from son Josh who was traveling through western China for a few weeks to sample the Sichuan cuisine before returning to Beijing where he is the chef de cuisine at one of the restaurants in the Hilton Hotel. Meanwhile, his wife Amy visited her family in the States during a month-long break from her job as a teacher of history in the International School. The next day Greg treated me to sushi…a belated birthday and mother’s day gift. That night we enjoyed a wonderful Lebanese dinner with Greg’s Iranian friend, Bob for short, who, Greg said, had to court his wife, who he met in London, for three years…he being Iranian and she being Lebanese…before the families would agree to let them marry. Their two small lively squealing children crawled all over Uncle Greg from the moment we arrived. A truly lovely family and I feel very privileged to have met them. And told Greg he should date Bob’s beautiful sister…

The night before I left Las Vegas Greg and I were invited to the home of the sister of his latest girlfriend, Vanessa. Vanessa’s mother, a lovely woman who joined us, is Costa Rican and her father Cuban. Needless to say, Las Vegas rivals New York City in it’s diversity. The next day I drove non-stop from Vegas to Salem…from 9am to 2:30am…never again.

I enjoyed a week with my son Doug who was waiting for me at the house in Salem…before his return thursday to his wife, Luk, in Thailand. Luk and Doug’s father, who lives south of Pattaya, were to join Doug in Bangkok today. In a couple days Doug and Luk will fly down to their home overlooking the Gulf of Thailand on Ko Samui.

Now, for me, it’s back to the reality of Oregon…few people on the streets, no Zocalo to meet friends over coffee to watch the latest march or music concert or candela…visual and auditory feasts. No pesky colorful vendors many of whom ended up my friends. I can even laugh now about the really old and ugly woman beggar who owns two apartment houses. And the guy who, after a drinking binge, makes everyone groan when he “sings” “Oaxaca, Oaxaca!” with his battered guitar. And the wandering trombone player, with his plump wife sitting faithfully on a stool next to him, who makes you plug your ears. Apparently no one has told him trombones aren’t supposed to be solo instruments. The two saxaphone players weren’t so bad…one better than the other who was always asking me “vamos a mi casa!” Right! And Jorge, the raboso vendor who knew everything about everyone. And the two retired one-eyed Viet Nam vets, the retired right-winger with a big heart who used to be the police chief in a small Colorado town and who has adopted a poor Oaxaca family to support. An eccentric police chief, he once did a traffic stop, he told me, with a big red clown’s nose attached to his face! The guy, with a Ph.D in French literature who lives on $70 a month and plays chess every day at five o’clock in front of the Cathedral after sitting all afternoon with one coffee in a sidewalk cafe. The Mexican kids, many of whom are excellent players, pay him 10 cents to use his chess board and clock…and many of whom just hang around to practice English with us. And they admire the tall, unusual gringo who voluntarily lives on so little. He would often walk me back to my apartment late at night after the Marimba Band had finished up in front of the Del Jardin Restaurant. Good times with my retired friend from San Francisco who arrived in Oaxaca on the same plane as me and helped me fill out my visa application. Bilingual, she had previously lived three years in Veracruz. She is helping facilitate the erection of FM community radio transmitters around the state. Community radios, although legal, are essentially enemies of the hated state governor. I worry for her. And Elvira, the soft-spoken Zapotec woman who organized a woman’s coffee bean collective. She travels five hours down from the mountains by bus to sell her coffee at the organic Pochote Market and stays thursdays and fridays overnight with this same friend before she goes back to her home at 5am Sunday morning. Lester, who was worried about his young son who was volunteering at the CIPO house…an indigenous volunteer organization, stayed with me two pleasurable weeks. And my gentle Swiss friend, Willy, an industrial engineer by training who is trying to make a living on the local economy by making incredible lamps out of debris from his backyard and as an eco-landscaper. I told him he could sell his lamps for hundreds in NYC. He wasn’t interested. Many good times with Charly from Canada who introduced me to Mica and Bardo…all coffee roasters…and in whose adobe home in Huayapam we enjoyed many delicious Sunday afternoon cenas. And the several visitors Charly met on Sweet Maria’s coffee home-roasting web site and sent down to visit Oaxaca. One of them, Jennifer, when I picked her and her husband up at the airport, said that I looked familiar and asked if I ever went to the Beanery in Salem where she used to work. Of course, I said! And Hector and Lulu, my landlords with a new baby, and eternally cheerful Adelina, the apartment maid, and her lively bright daughter Fernanda, who watched out for me and would never let anyone inside the courtyard gates that she didn’t know. Adelina makes $200 a month…so I am putting Fernanda through school…no big feat…only $30 a year for registration and another $20 for shoes. I will miss Adelina the most. And the friends who came and went in the other two apartments that were configured such that we could all talk to each other without leaving our apartments. Joe, a retired CPA from Chicago, who helped us organize the badly sung Norteno Christmas Party for the landlords and their families, twenty-something Canadians Ana and Steve, Roy and Eileen from San Francisco. Peter, a funny Australian guitarist and his wife Mirella who have come to live in Oaxaca. The two absolutely delightful woman interns I met at the Casa de los Amigos Guesthouse run by the Quakers in Mexico City who came to stay with me a few days. When I was in Chiang Mai Thailand, I used to go to a nearby guesthouse for a $2 buffet breakfast where I met “Sharkey”, a twenty-something firefighter from Eugene Oregon. He told me he used to live with a paraplegic Viet Nam vet in the mountains above Miahuatlan near Oaxaca City Mexico. So one night in the zocalo, when I met Judy, a friend of a paraplegic Viet Nam vet who lives in the mountains above Miahuatlan, I told her I had met Sharkey in Chiang Mai. “You know Sharkey?” she exclaimed. Small world indeed. And then there were the many wonderful long conversations with my anarchist friend, Max, also a classicist who enjoys high mass in the cathedral. Now, I’ll have time to read Mikhail Bakunin, Max. Sigh. Re-entry always the most difficult part.

Contemplating Leaving

Posted on by Laughingnomad

My one year visa in Mexico expires August 8. After visiting my son Greg in Las Vegas I should be back in Oregon by the middle of August…driving from Oaxaca to Queretaro to pick up my friend Patty who will be my traveling companion along the way. I have mixed feelings of course. Returning to my home country will be the measure of things great and small. In the fall I will return to Asia to visit son Josh and his wife Amy in Beijing and son Doug and his wife Luk in Thailand.

In the meantime I am reading my irreverent, indepensible, if tattered, “The World’s Most Dangerous Places” by the consummate journalist Robert Young Pelton. After Asia, maybe a visit to Syria? Or…? Then maybe a return to Oaxaca to get that language down after all.

A regular columnist for National Geographic Adventure, Pelton produces and hosts a TV series for Discovery and the Travel Channel and appears frequently as an expert on current affairs and travel safety on CNN, FOX and other networks.

“The United States has a very comprehensive system of travel warnings,” says Pelton, “but conveniently overlooks the dangers within its own borders. Danger cannot be measured, only prepared against. The most dangerous thing in the world,” he says, “is ignorance.”

Welcome to Dangerous Places…”no walls, no barriers, no bull” it says in the preface. “With all the talk about survival and fascination with danger, why is it that people never admit that life is like watching a great movie and–pooof–the power goes off before we see the ending? It’s no big deal. Death doesn’t really wear a smelly cloak and carry a scythe…it’s more likely the attractive girl who makes you forget to look right before you cross that busy intersection in London…

It helps to look at the big picture when understanding just what might kill you and what won’t. It is the baby boomers’ slow descent into gray hair, brand-name drugs, reading glasses, and a general sense of not quite being as fast as they used to be that drives the survival thing. Relax: You’re gonna die. Enjoy life, don’t fear it.

To some, life is the single most precious thing they are given and it’s only natural that they would invest every ounce of their being into making sure that every moment is glorious, productive, and safe. So does “living” mean sitting strapped into our Barca Lounger, medic at hand, 911 autodialer at the ready, carefully watching for low-flying planes? Or should you live like those folks who are into extreme, mean, ultimate adventure stuff…sorry that stuff may be fun to talk about at cocktail parties, but not really dangerous…not even half as dangerous as riding in a cab on the graveyard shift in Karachi.

[A big part of] living is about adventure and adventure is about elegantly surfing the tenuous space between lobotomized serenity and splattered-bug terror and still being in enough pieces to share the lessons learned with your grandkids. Adventure is about using your brain, body and intellect to weave a few bright colors in the world’s dull, gray fabric…

The purpose of DP is to get your head screwed on straight, your sphincter unpuckered and your nose pointed in the right direction.”

I love it.

“Oaxacans Like To Work Bent Over”

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This is the title of a paper issued this month by Seth Holmes with an M.D. from the University of California at San Francisco, and a Ph.D. in cultural and medical anthropology from UCSF and U.C. Berkeley. His paper, “‘Oaxacans Like to Work Bent Over’: The Naturalization of Social Suffering Among Berry Farm Workers,” captures the grinding details of what it takes to get strawberries out of the fields in Washington State, and in the equally challenging task of figuring out what it all means — and what to do about it.

Find this paper on Salon.com. In the posted review of the paper you will find a link to a PDF file that can be downloaded with Acrobat Reader.

Holmes says: “I began my fieldwork in a one-room shack in a migrant camp on the largest farm in the valley, the Tanaka Farm, during the summer and fall of 2003. I spent my days alternately picking berries with the rest of the adults from the camp, interviewing other farm employees and area residents, and observing interactions at the local migrant clinic.

In order to understand the transnational experience of migrant labor, I migrated for the next year with Triqui indigenous people from the Mexican state of Oaxaca whom I had come to know on the farm. I spent the winter living with nineteen of them in a three-bedroom slum apartment, pruning vineyards, and observing health professionals in the Central Valley of California. During the spring, I lived in the mountains of Oaxaca with the family of one of the men I knew from the Tanaka Farm, planting and harvesting corn and beans, observing the government health center, and interviewing family members of migrant workers back in the U.S.

Later, I accompanied a group of young Triqui men through the night as they hiked through the desert into Arizona and were caught by the Border Patrol. I then migrated north again from California, through Oregon where we picked up false social security cards, and once again to the farm in Washington State in the summer of 2004. Since then, I have returned to visit my Triqui companions in Washington, California, and Oaxaca on several shorter trips.”

Many of the conditions he describes on this Washington farm have been outlawed in Oregon by an omnibus bill I helped introduce, as a lobbyist, to the legislature in the 1990’s. This bill was pulled together by a coalition of farmers and farm labor advocates and one dedicated legislator who actually composed the bill that was passed unanimously that session . I have a sneaking suspicion that he is letting the Tanaka Farms off lightly unless this farmer is unusual. Farmers are usually loath to allow outsiders onto their farms…one of the issues addressed in the omnibus bill. He somehow gained their trust. Very tricky.