Water Baby

SEASons Greetings

As most of you know or can guess we are now at our winter residence.  We have been here almost four weeks and are back to our routine of living.  Our condo association meeting is over and now we have about a month of relative quiet until the folks from up north start to really pour in.  But we are far from tranquility as we are in the middle of construction zones – a three storey building at the corner and a highrise on the beach two blocks away.  (We can see the boom crane from our kitchen window.)  And there is a move on to bury many of the electrical lines around town.

It is the Dia festivo de la Revolucion -  as is the US, Mexico moved holiday celebrations to Mondays to create three-day weekends.   And the festival for St. Cecilia is going on for on of the churches on the other side of the highway; although by far the largest, Our Lady of Peace is not the only church in town.  So there have been a few 'booms' in the mornings.

Any surprise that Mrs.T has been in the water already?  Or already riding the horses?  (She has been on a rather docile one named Simon.)  And the other day she thought she was going to see a polo match – anything with horses, you know – that turned into more of an adventure driving around the municipality.

Mrs.T put together some guidelines she has learned from her divemaster Alex:

 

Greetings from the seas.  I am, I suppose, a stepchild of Neptune.  I love the sea.  I have a friend Alexander Sanchez who is my divemaster.  He guides me and teaches as I explore the wonders of the Pacific Ocean near Puerto Vallarta.  Today I want to share with you THE WISDOM OF ALEX.

 

GO SLOW, YOU'LL SEE A LOT MORE

Alex told me this the first time I dove with him years ago.  Under the sea if you swim around frantically you will go right past some of the most interesting things.  You will scare away other wonders.  But if you float casually along you will see a lot more and some of the more shy creatures will  actually come out to greet you.  This might actually be true above the sea too!

 

I CAN FIX ALMOST ANYTHING, BUT YOU HAVE TO BREATH FOR YOURSELF

When you are diving there are lots of dive related problems the divemaster can help you with.  If you are too light he can give you more weight.  If you are too heavy he can take weight away or add air to make you buoyant.  If you are lost he can show you the direction to go.  If you are low on air he can share air with you.  But you have to do the breathing.  You should never hold your breath.  In life I think there are always some things you must do for yourself and you should not hold your breath then either.

 

DO NOT GO DEEPER THAN ME OR GET AHEAD OF ME

In other words follow the leader.  Everyone these days wants to be a leader but there is a lot to be said for a good follower.  When you are diving you want a leader who is familiar with the territory, someone who knows the dangers to look out for as well as the direction you need to go.  You need a divemaster who knows where you plan to go and is familiar with the things you hope to find.  When you are diving it is important to choose a divemaster who is responsible, trustworthy, and careful because you are trusting him with your life.  Once you have found that divemaster, you need to listen to him and follow his directions.  The leader should always go first so that he can pick the best route, and spot any dangers or special sights.  It is a very poor follower who ignores the advice of the divemaster or who swims in front of him.  This could be said of other followers.  If you have found a good leader perhaps it is well to let him lead.

 

DANGER - DO NOT TOUCH

There are some underwater things you should not touch even though they may look attractive.  Stonefish, and lionfish have poisonous spines.  Guitarfish give electric shocks.  Fire coral can cause allergic rashes.  One of the reasons you have a guide is to alert you as to these dangers.  In everyday life there is often a time when we want to get involved in something and a wise and experienced person advises us, just stay out of it.

 

IT WAS A GREAT DIVE; ALL DIVES ARE GREAT DIVES

Alex is a person with a very positive attitude.  I believe it would do us all good to find joy and beauty in all of our lives.

 

Tomorrow (actually today by the time you read this  -dt) I am going diving again.

 

Rebecca only very rarely takes underwater photos not only for technical reasons but also because she would indeed miss many of the wonders under the sea.

 

Some special notes:

First, we are of course very saddened by the tragic events in 'The City of Light'; our hearts go out to all affected.

Second, congratulations to R and M for formally tying the knot; you know you have all our love.

Finally, although few of you know her, please keep F.E. in your thoughts and prayers as she undergoes treatment for a serious ailment.

 

Best wishes to all of you to be hit with winter weather.  We actually have been a bit warmer than we are accustomed to; Mrs.T says it is hot but I think it merely is a trifle warm.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

Heat and Hot Undies

MOSTLY NORMAL

 

As you know, we do not publish 'Casa-de-Terrible' on a regular basis.  We greatly admire those that do, such as www.sue-feathersandflowers.blogspot.com  - that takes a lot of work.  Even more so to routinely change the background with new photos and such; what a great blog.  But our newsletter comes out whenever the mood strikes the muse and the editor gets down to the business of refining her work and adding photos if needed (none this time).  Sometimes a week or more can elapse between the first words and the actual publication.  Such is the case with the first part of Mrs.T's story.  At this moment the weather is about normal.  In fact we just had a cold snap and the furnace ran overnight.  We also have colds, but that is a separate issue.

 

As with much of the country we have had an unusual spring and summer.  May and June were about the wettest we have seen for a long time.  But after Independence Day we had scarcely a drop until Labor Day – two parched months.  And we had a couple of really hot spells – R writes about the second one below.  We did run the a/c for the first heat wave while Rita was here, but just the fans for the second which was shorter and has ended.  September will probably go down as another record hot month.  On to the story:

 

 

It has been a long hot summer.  It has been so hot that the weeds don't grow. It has been so hot that.my fish have started taking walking lessons.  I had to get 4 loads of water for my pond and if there is no rain soon I must get some more.  (The rains came.  -dt) It is so hot that my husband actually turned on the air conditioner.  No, I am hallucinating due to heat frustration; he did not do that.  (Yes, I did – for the first heat wave.  –dt)  It is so hot that I have had to subsist on Moose Tracks ice cream in order to keep my temperature down.  It is so hot that I climbed into the hot tub to cool down.  It is so hot that Rush Limbaugh said he now believes in global warming and climate change.  (I doubt that.  –dt)   It is so hot that I think our next trip will be to the North Pole if it hasn't melted. (Actually it is to Florida for my nephew's wedding.  –dt) It is so hot that when I have a hot flash I feel cooler.  Even Matt the WHIZ weatherperson says that this summer has been significantly hotter than normal.

 

In order to save our energy and stay cool Dan and I have mostly lolled about, he languidly tapping a key or two on his computer and I trying to decide if it is worth the effort to turn a page on the fantasy novel I am trying to read.  There have been a few significant events in the last couple of months.  We traveled to Georgia visiting both my sisters and saying goodbye to my brother-in-law who, alas, was finally conquered by cancer.  We also saw numerous nieces and nephews and great-nieces and -nephews whom I could not quite keep track of. 

 

My sister Rita came back with us (We had driven to Georgia.  –dt) to visit our home in Ohio which she had never seen because she had to work.  But now she is retired and she can visit anytime.  Whoopee!!  (Rita, we are always delighted to have you.  –dt) Dan claims I act a little crazy when I am with Rita.  (Let's say zany.  –dt) Anyway after a too short stay Rita returned to Idaho where she mostly plans on spoiling her grandchildren between other projects too numerous to mention.  She has decided that being retired might be a lot of fun after all.

 

There was one thing I noticed when Rita was visiting, she had purple underwear. (Why was I not privy to this information at the time??.  –dt) Purple is my favorite color.  Buying colored underwear is, I admit, a waste - after all who sees it.  (At least one person.  –dt)  But purple.  Sigh.

 

There had always been a little competition between us three sisters.  When we played as children Ruth was the Mother, Rita was the Father, and I was the child.  If we played 'Doctor', Ruth was the Doctor, Rita was the Nurse, and I was the patient.  When we played 'School' Ruth was the teacher, Rita was the Principal and I was the bad child.  When we played 'Church' Ruth was the song leader, Rita was the preacher and I was the congregation.  Do you see a pattern here?  This more or less continued when we went to real school.   Ruth was the perfect diligent student.  Rita was a good student but also popular, fashionable, and had a good time.  I muddled through wearing hand-me-downs.  But no longer.  I am as good as they are although perhaps a bit eccentric.

 

But let's be honest - I was envious.  I wanted purple panties.  Well why not?  I got out my fat lady catalogs to order some.  Unfortunately all the other fat ladies of my size wanted them too and they were sold out.  Life is unfair. (Dan had comments but I deleted them rt)  (All I said was that Rita must have had a matching purple bra because Mrs.T has been complaining that none of those are available in her size either.  –dt)

 

Since I had the dislocated arm last winter I have been unable to do a lot of my YOGA exercises.  However I am working at them and am slowly improving.  For example I am still unable to do downward facing dog but have modified it until I can do something which might be called downward facing lizard.  Sigh.  Well we do what we can. 

 

One bright spot in our hot sunny days has been my riding lessons.  I have slowly gotten less wobbly and more confident on and off the horses.  I can just about saddle and bridle one now.  When both the horse and I are having a good day we can wander about looking at wildflowers and eating them.  Last week Tori and I went riding at The Wilds.  It was a break for Tori because she did not have to watch me all the time to see what strange thing I would do next.  It was a break for me because my horse Barney was extremely lethargic.  And Barney, well it might not have been a break for him, but he certainly did not overexert himself.  Tori and I rode on short fat horses called Haflingers.  Tori had called ahead and asked for an easy horse for me.  There were four of us.  First came the lead rider and then Tori; they were riding along talking about horses. Then came Barney and I.  Barney was plodding along as slowly as it was possible to go without coming to a complete stop.  Then came the end rider.  Naturally the first two got ahead and had to wait for us every few minutes.  "Should I make Barney go faster?" I asked the end rider.  "Good luck with that," she replied. "Barney has two speeds, slow and stop."  So at this point I relaxed and enjoyed the ride, looking at birds and wildflowers - just Barney and I ambling along.  I think the end rider was a little bored, so telling me not to let Barney stop to eat, she rode up to join the other two.  When it was over they told me I had done well not letting Barney stop to eat which evidently he often does.  I had a very good time, and it was easy to get off Barney because he was rather close to the ground.

 

 

Some housekeeping is in order.   First, many of you may have received some spurious emails supposedly from this blog or directly from my email.  I apologize but have no idea when or how I was 'hacked'.  I hope you were not inconvenienced and I certainly hope it does not happen again.  But no guarantees.  Just delete those that seem suspicious.

 

Second, please let me know if your email changes.  Of course if it has, you probably are not seeing this anyways.  You are always welcome to share are newsletter and we welcome new subscribers.  And just let us know if you wish to be deleted from our distribution list.

 

Keep cool,

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

 

Still Cruisin'

International Eating

 

Some of you may know that when Mrs.T gets focused upon something she can be quite determined.  I would say obsessed.  She grips on like a gila monster and will not let go.  Such was the case on the cruise with the sachretorte.  Everywhere we went she wanted a sacretorte.  Eventually I weaned her from them, but it was tough work.  I expect she will want to make trips to some obscure bakery in another city to try to find one.  But I will agree that sometimes they were quite tasty.

 

 

 

Dan and I have always liked to eat.  I grew up on a farm and was aware of a satisfying connection between growing food and eating it.  It was a connection that held the world together.  Also I liked the taste.  Dan likes eating because he is Italian.  And therefore, as we have taken several cruises in the past, part of their appeal for us has been the food which we always found to be both plenteous and delicious.  Naturally we anticipated great things from our river cruise in this area.  Well we were not at all disappointed but we were surprised because the food was somewhat different.

 

Time, alas, has taken its toll and we are no longer able to stuff vast quantities of food down our gullets 24 hours a day.  (But we can give it a good try.  –dt) This is good because this cruise was more about quality and less about quantity.  We were never hungry but the need for Rolaids occurred a lot less often.  Also many of you are aware that my hands have become pretty shaky recently.  Since I brought several of my best clothes to wear at supper - Dan had told me not to but I seldom take his advice in matters of dress (All the material emphasized informality.  –dt) - I really did not want to start each evening dressed in the soup of the day.  What should I do?

 

I had a PLAN!  The first meal of the first day I sought out the Maître'd, Paul.  I explained my problem.  I asked that if I ordered soup could they bring it to me in a cup instead of a bowl.  Also if the waiters could cut anything that needed cutting then I could eat it with a large spoon. (Mrs.T is not at all good with chopsticks. –dt) Paul was enthusiastically supportive.  He promised to tell the waiters.  "If they have any questions tell them to ask Paul," he said.  "And if there are any other ways I can help just ask.  I am here, dear lady, to help you enjoy your cruise."  Well I will never think of maitre' d's as snooty again.  Paul was as good as his word - and good looking too! (He has a girlfriend back in Budapest.  –dt) When we went to supper I started to explain to our waiter, Miljan, and he immediately said "Oh yes, Paul told us; don't worry Madam, it will be no problem."  And in fact it was not.

 

The first night, and every other night when we sat with different passengers, the other people at our table were a little confused at my special service.  I could see they could not decide if I was decrepit or the Queen of some obscure Baltic country.   I acted extremely blasé' and they were embarrassed to ask.  The waiters were incredibly solicitous and all went well.  Dan and I decided to sit in the same general area so that we would likely have the same waiters and it worked out that usually we had either Miljan or Ned, both of whom were sweet and charming.  In fact as many people sat at the same tables, soon my fellow passengers were offering to butter my bread and so on.  There is really no reason for false pride and almost everyone is really happy to help.  Sometimes I did kind of feel like the queen.  Of course Dan said "Enjoy it while you have it because I'm not waiting on you at home!"  I ask you, is that anyway to treat the queen?  The fact is that Dan does cheerfully help me quite a bit especially with cutting things because he thinks I am dangerous with sharp knives.  (I desire to avoid trips to the ER.  Also, I sweep up a lot after meals.  –dt)

 

The food was delicious and beautifully presented except of course the asparagus.  I loathe asparagus but Chef Axel had made everything else taste so good I decided to try the asparagus soup to see if he could make it taste good too.  No he could not.  For this reason I cannot speak about the taste of the beets or the rhubarb either but everything else was fantastic.  This includes several items I liked even though I was not sure what they were.  There were always about six different choices in each category:  appetizer, entree, and dessert.  And I must mention that one of the dessert options was almost always a chocolate dish. 

 

Occasionally throughout the cruise little special offerings of food or drink would appear.  Nothing loathe, I always tried to participate in these little extras.  For example, one morning when we were on the Rhine it was drizzly and chilly.  Nonetheless many of us were sitting on the upper deck gazing at the castles of the robber barons which Rob, the tour director, described to us as we passed them.  There were tales of feuds and kidnapping maidens - all very thrilling.  But as we shivered between taking pictures, Attilla brought us warm blankets. Then as we began to get chilly again along came Paul and his crew with mulled wine.  I had two little cups and was feeling quite warm and comfortable by the time we came to the last castle.  I liked the castles quite a bit.  Another time when we were watching a glassblowing demonstration they gave us little bottles of Jagermeister which is some funny kind of liqueur I think.  Remembering my experience with brandy I did not drink it. (It is actually a brew of 56 herbs, supposedly with medicinal properties.  –dt)

 

So we had three delicious meals: breakfast, lunch, and supper.  If you felt a trifle peckish there was a place with cookies and baked things for between meals with tea and coffee and water; Dan's favorite was the chocolate muffins.  (But the snacks were not there around the clock.  –dt) Of course you could buy things at the lounge.  We found that the concierge had a nice plate of apples by his desk, so here and there we managed to keep our little fridge stocked with a few snacks and bottled water which we collected before tours.  And bottle water was provided each day.

 

Every evening there was a talk telling us about the cities we would visit the next day.  An important part of the briefing was a description of the local industries and the local food.  I felt that it was important that we immerse ourselves in the local culture, and Dan did not disagree.  Besides after walking a lot on those tours we needed a little fortification. 

 

My favorite was in Austria where they made sachertortes.  Sachertorte is an incredibly rich and moist chocolate cake iced with dark chocolate icing.  Between the layers in addition to the icing there is a layer of marmalade. "Would you like cream with that?" the waitress asked.  Well I thought a nice little dollop of whipped cream on top would be just the thing.  Keep in mind we are talking real whipped cream from plump, happy Austrian cows here.  They have never heard of Reddi-wip, thank God.  When my sachertorte arrived I was pleasantly surprised to learn that no dollops were involved.  I got a small dish of whipped cream.  What you did was cut off a bite of sachertorte and dip it into the whipped cream then eat it.  I must say I think I absorbed the Austrian culture rather quickly.  In fact after that whenever we stopped to sample local food I asked for sachertore but Dan made me try a lot of other things.  One day after our tour it was chilly and we decided to stop at a little café to get something to warm us up.  Dan had a espresso and I had a hot chocolate.  "Would you like cream with that?" the waitress asked.  Yes, I thought I would.

 

In Germany one of the specialties was gingerbread.  Now I have eaten gingerbread many times and it is okay but it doesn't thrill me.  Dan, however, although not particularly interested in gingerbread was paying attention to the briefing and made a mental note of the best place to buy gingerbread.  That afternoon when our planned trip to the toy museum fell through and we were wandering around the main square in Nuremberg, Dan noticed that we were passing the recommended gingerbread store.  "Why don't you check it out?" he suggested.  Dan is generally not much of a shopper.  But I was willing to do my bit to support the local economy.  It was a small store devoted almost exclusively to gingerbread, ginger cookies, etc.  They had beautiful tin boxes with nature scenes, pictures of homey people eating gingerbread and that sort of thing.  Or you could just buy the gingerbread or cookies in little plastic bags.  I thought one of the tin boxes would make a nice gift, so it took a while for me to decide.

 

In the background I could hear an obnoxious American tourist demanding a free sample before she bought any.  Sigh! (Americans are invariably the most obnoxious tourists.  –dt) "No we do not do that madam, but I can show you one," the clerk said politely.  What good would that do I wondered?  You can't tell by looking at food.  Little did I know.  The clerk opened a plastic bag and held up a gingerbread cookie.  Immediately there wafted through the store a spicy, mysterious, tangy scent with a touch of unidentified delicious tones.  Everyone in the store began grabbing tins, boxes, and plastic packages and rushing to the cashier.  With a superhuman effort of self-control I ended up with only two plastic bags and one tin box.  Dan found me in a kind of dazed condition as I exited the store.  "What took you so long? Why did you buy so much?" he hit me with the standard compound question. (I need to get my questions in when I can.  –dt) "You'll see tonight," I told him, leaving him a little confused.  Every night Dan takes medicine which must be taken with food.  That night he took it with a large gingerbread cookie.  There were no more questions as to how much I spent.  There was however some discussion as to whether we each got the same number of cookies.

 

So we ate our way across Europe.  In one town Dan had pretzels and said they were very good while I spent that time climbing a ruined castle.  But he did bring back some pastries.  I had one that was like a cream puff only with cheese Danish filling.  I am not sure what it was but it was delicious.  In The Netherlands we had milk chocolate shaped like windmills.  I'm not sure why but the chocolate seems to be more chocolaty in Europe.  Dan tasted a local beer and said it tasted like stout.  All in all I liked everything but the asparagus soup.  But best of all was the sachertorte.

 

Our pictures are a bit organized.  Here are some highlights for this story.

The staff:

 https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157655630532408

 

Cruising for castles:  https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157655624620959

 

BONUS:  Here are a few of our pictures of the Hungarian Cowboys: https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157656022885352

 

We hope you have enjoyed these recent postings about our European trip.  We have another adventure in the offing, so I don't know when the muse will get to another story. 

 

Stay cool.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

Heading up Rivers

Cruisin' on the Rivers

 

Those of you who have followed our offerings for a while know that we travel a bit.  And we winter in Bucerias, Mexico, to avoid the, for us, inhospitable Ohio weather.  In Mexico we have come to know through our many Canadian friends that we are almost amateurs when it comes to traversing the globe.  Last year one of our very favorite couples B&H - best to keep some anonymity in these musings – told us about the wonderful time they had on a European river cruise; they even showed us a darned good PowerPoint show.  Well, that closed the deal and plans were put in motion, especially as this trip was on Mrs.T's 'bucket list'.

Fifteen days from Budapest to Amsterdam aboard the Viking Mimir just making its second cruise, its inaugural sailing being in the opposite direction.  We were excited to see the riverside from Hungary to The Netherlands.  And it was a very nice trip.  But quite exhausting, especially for our two out-of-shape, lethargic torsos.  As you know R is more athletic than I, but we did well.

This was a small ship, only 185 passengers, with people from many countries:  US, Czech Republic, Austria, Germany, Slovakia, Croatia, Serbia, Canada, and probably other places as well.  There were only two children - intelligent, well-behaved teenagers – being treated by their grandparents.  We may have been among the younger passengers.  Virtually everyone spoke English and we met several fine people.

We stopped every day to visit a city or town and take the included tour.  The tours were rated 1 -3 based upon degree of difficulty.  And each tour had a subset for those of us that were not track stars.  We skipped the 3-level tours altogether and several times ventured off on our own.  In Vienna we followed the advice of our good friend JRS and visited a wonderful museum, the Hundertwasser, that no one else would see. The included tours were geared towards history and buildings, not art and museums.  Another time – surprise – we visited a garden not on the tour.  There were optional tours – read: extra charges – as well, and we took a couple of those.  All-in-all it was a great trip.

No surprise that Mrs.T would have several things to report, the first installment being below.  It was easy to jumble up things a bit as we sped through these venues.  So let the editor clarify R's story a bit; you will understand when you read below.  Indeed there were many Bishop Princes scattered about.  However, Melk was in actually a genuine Benedictine Abbey from its beginning unlike Wurzberg – still cannot get those umlauts – where we also visited.  So on to Rebecca's story:

 

 

Dan and I are back from our river cruise through Europe on the Rhine, the Main, and the Danube.  We started in Budapest and finished in Amsterdam.  In Budapest we went on a special tour to see Hungarian 'cowboys', riders who in the past were called Cossacks.  When we arrived we were welcomed with the traditional bread, salt, and brandy.  Many of you know I am not a heavy drinker, however, anything in the name of international understanding.  (Mrs.T is virtually a teetotaler.  –dt) I took a respectable sized gulp.  It did not taste too bad until I swallowed.  Then "ARGG!! AAEEOO!! COUGH!! COUGH!!! SNORT!! SNORT!! MMMM!! Quite delicious!" I said.  Both our hosts and other members of the tour were viewing my performance with interest.  Dan looked completely bored (just nonchalant -dt) but I could tell by his eyes he was laughing inside. 

 

The cowboys did quite a show.  They jumped on and off horses, rode them standing on their backs (the horses' backs, that is.  –dt), drove them from carts and had a Lipizzaner stallion doing special tricks.  It was all quite entertaining. Dan said it was not absolutely necessary that I look at every single animal in their barns.  (Mrs.T wants to pat and talk to every critter she encounters.  –dt)

 

There were a lot of churches and palaces in Budapest but after a short walking tour of the highlights we wandered around taking pictures.   We did stop at a local café and bought some ice cream and lemonade.  In fact we nibbled our way across Europe.  We got three meals a day on the boat and they were delicious, but after our walking tours a little extra snack to absorb local customs - not to mention local food - seemed quite appropriate.  But I had no more unfamiliar drinks.  I had learned a few words of Hungarian, with a little coaching from Attila, the hotel manager on the boat.  Yes, he really was Attila the Hun (He was a very jovial guy.  –dt), but with the name Terrible who am I to talk.  I think the local people appreciated my efforts.

 

Perhaps the most spectacular part about Budapest was leaving it. At night the lights of all the castles, palaces, and churches along the Danube were magnificent as we slowly drifted away.

 

Every day we went on tours.  The bad thing was sometimes we had to walk a long way to get on the bus to take us where we were going.  Then we when we got to the bus drop-off we had to walk some more to get to what we were supposed to see.  This made me pretty tired and Dan both tired and grumpy.  Dan is not too walkable anymore.  (Walkable?  Sounds like I am on a leash.  –dt) We were supposed to be in a group that was the leisurely tour, i.e., very slow.  There were only a couple of people who were slower than we and one of them was Earl who was 97.  Earl was attended by three ladies in their 60's who were always misplacing him.  They would wander around frantically trying to find out who saw him last and where.  Eventually Earl would always show up cheerful but slightly confused.  The four of them are all members of a computer club at a senior's complex in Arizona.  Dan hopes that when he is 97 he will have 3 ladies looking out for him. Evidently Earl has a girlfriend back at the complex but she refused to come.  (I do plan to be like Earl when I grow up.  –dt)

 

One day we went on a tour of the Abbey of Melk.  It seems that back in the good old days in 13^th to 15^th centuries, Southern Germany and Austria were ruled by Bishop Princes.  These guys had the best of both worlds.  As Bishops they ran the churches and collected tithes and told everybody how to act.  As princes they collected taxes ran the states and told everybody what to do.  Nice work if you can get it.  Since these guys were - in theory at least – celibate, their jobs were usually inherited by their nephews.  The Abbey at Melk belonged to a Bishop Prince.  It was a Benedictine monastery with anywhere from 50 to 100 monks doing prayerful stuff.  The Abbey also owned a lot of farms and businesses in the area.  This was a Romanesque monastery.  It had lots of golden statues, beautiful tapestries, frescos on the ceilings and seven courtyards with gardens, statues, and fountains separating one part of the abbey from another.  The Bishop Prince and his family and court lived there along with the monks.  Do not forget the courtyards!

 

The Abbey of Melk was one of those places that took a lot of walking to get to.  When we arrived at the first courtyard Dan rebelled.  This particular courtyard had four gates one on each wall and a large fountain in the middle.  In the corners were some shaded benches.  Dan and Elise, another slow walker, sat down.  They were not going to go another step.  After coming all that way I was not going to miss the Abbey.  "Go ahead," Dan said.  "I will wait right here."  So I did.

 

The other slow walkers and I were given a tour by an ex-monk who lived there.  As I had never been in an Abbey before I have nothing to compare it to but this Abbey was huge and had a lot of great art and some weird religious stuff: a splinter of the true cross, various bones  and teeth of saints, all kept in gold boxes etc.  Now I'm not really buying that-- but they did have it.  We went through bedrooms with gorgeous tapestries on the wall.  We went through court rooms with frescos and paintings.  Everywhere we went there were religious statues covered with gold.  They were not really gold; the guide said they were wood or stone covered with gold but still we are talking a lot of gold.  Every so often we would come to a courtyard, don't forget them.  One of the most impressive parts was the library.  This was two large rooms packed from floor to ceiling with thousands of books and incunabula (books printed before 1501  -dt).  I guess it came in handy to have all those monks.  The books were mostly in Latin.  We crossed another courtyard, don't forget about them, and went through one of its four doors and came into the chapel.  It was positively dripping with gold, jeweled crucifixes, marble, and stuff like that. 

 

By this time I was totally overwhelmed, but I thought, well a church, so I slipped into a pew to say a little prayer.  When I opened my eyes a couple of minutes later all of the slow walkers had slowly walked on.  I was alone in the chapel with God and one old German lady who was dusting the pews.  "Can you tell me the way out?" I asked.  "Please do not take any flash photos," she replied.  This I imagined was the extent of her English.  I slowly wandered around the chapel peeking out each of the six doors.  I found one that had a clear plastic box with a slit in the top for donations.  Aha!!  I put some money in the box and went through the door into a courtyard.  There were no slow walkers in sight.  Would they really leave me?  Rob, our program director, had said they would leave if we did not get back to the boat on time.

 

The courtyard was designed like the others had been.   There were four doors, almost like gates, one in the center of each wall.  If I excluded the one I had just come through I had three choices left.  A man exited the door on my right.  I would try that one; there must be something in there.  I rushed through the door and found I was in the gift shop. Well I am probably headed in the right direction, I reasoned.  I quickly circled the room and saw that there were no other public entrances or exits.  Should I?  Of course not.  But I can resist anything but temptation.  (She must have said the wrong prayer.  –dt)  I quickly perused the wares.  I bought a small overpriced book with lots of pictures of the Abbey.  Exiting the gift shop I looked at the two remaining doors.  I saw a small group of people heading for one of them.  Well I thought why not.  At this point perhaps I should mention that these courtyards were not small.  They were perhaps 50 yards long and 30 yards wide, although they did seem to get larger as my time within them expanded.

 

I crossed the courtyard diagonally but by the time I entered yet another courtyard the people were out of sight.  At this point I realized that I should have asked the old lady at the gift shop the way out but I was not quite sure I could find my way back and had no idea if she spoke English.  I ventured on.  I crossed over and peered through the gate on my left and saw a small parking lot.  This was definitely not the way we had come in.  Sigh!  Time to try another door.  I was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland. 

 

I went across to the next door.  It opened into another courtyard.  But wait, was it possible?  This courtyard looked familiar.  It was the court where I had left Dan.  There were the benches in the corners.  But no Dan.  He had abandoned me! (Rob had told me to get to the bus.  –dt) I looked at all four corners.  He was not there!  I rushed across to the opposite door.  There was the long hill.  And there, almost at the top, was Dan walking slowly up.  "I'M COMING!" I shouted as loud as I could.  But it was a long ways and Dan's hearing is not the best. (R's voice does not carry well.  –dt) He trudged on. He was almost at the top.  I trotted as fast as my short legs would go but soon he was out of sight.  In despair I slowed to a walk.  I never really imagined he would leave me.  Then I began to trudge upward once more.  As I looked up I saw Rob striding determinedly down the long hill.  Hurrah!!  I sped up once more.  I could tell when he sighted me as he made a dash for me.

 

"Where have you been?" he demanded.  "Well I stopped to say a little prayer in the chapel and when I finished everyone was gone," I explained.  Rob stood looking at me in amazement waiting for the rest of the story.  But I was out of breath and that was all I had to say.  "Well we've found you; let's go," Rob said.  And he turned and bounded up the long hill at a great pace.   Perhaps this would be the time to mention that Rob is young, athletic, well over 6 feet tall with great long legs.  (Women probably swoon; he had a striking blond on his shoulder most of the trip. – dt) He soon reached the top of the hill and vanished out of sight.  I trotted determinedly behind.  Well they know I am coming, I mused; I don't think they will leave me now.    When I got to the top of the hill I saw a great mass of buses but eventually found ours - 42E - and crawled into my seat beside a very grumpy Dan.  (Bewildered is a better word.  –dt)

 

"I only stopped to say a little prayer and they left me," I explained.  Well we got back to the boat and all was well.  But the next morning as we left to go on our next tour Rob looked me in the eye and said very sternly, "NO praying!"

 

Did we take any pictures?  Probably a couple of thousand which we are still sorting through.  But sometimes really we do not know why we bother – websites and Google have better photos.  So this time we will link you to photos that are not ours.

The place outside Budapest where we saw the horses is actually an all-purpose activity center; its specialty is weddings, one of which was being set up while we were there.  The website is:  www.tanyacsarda.hu   Sure it is Hungarian, but you can click away.

Mrs.T did not take so many pictures at Melk, but Google has thousands.  Outside:  https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1600&bih=799&q=melk+abbey+austria&oq=Melk+Abbey&gs_l=img.1.2.0l10.1643.5388.0.9331.10.10.0.0.0.0.934.1747.6-2.2.0....0...1ac.1.64.img..8.2.1745.I-asLaY8Y_k   and inside:  https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1600&bih=799&q=melk+abbey+interior&oq=melk+abbey+interior&gs_l=img.3..0.1528.6222.0.7097.19.14.0.0.0.0.1013.1856.6-1j1.2.0....0...1ac.1.64.img..17.2.1854.-NO4zXB-7rg     The Abbey's website is:  www.stiftmelk.at   

 

 

 

Mrs. T has promised another installment in the near future.  Hopefully she will complete it before our next trip at the end of July.  It is a very full summer this year.

 

We give a special thank you to GG for the very, very touching letter.  Our trip might bring memories to you.  Oh yes, we have two GGs among our followers, but the correct one will know.

 

Hope you enjoyed the 4^th.  Stay cool.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

 

 

FROM the FOREST

MORE FROM MRS. NATURE

The Muse has written about nature in and about our Philo residence extensively.  And it might seem repetitious.  But really each season it is exciting to see the new denizens – either different critters or newborns.  Eventually seeing a deer becomes a bit routine, but it is still interesting.

Mrs.T says our house is similar to a hunting blind.  We do indeed have nearly a 360 view if one moves from room to room.  Another feature that helps is our windows.  From the outside our energy efficient windows are almost opaque for many animals.  And our house is nearly soundproof with the windows down, again making it difficult for animals to detect us watchers.  They might see movement or feel vibration, but otherwise we do not disturb most of them.

Rebecca did not mention the pileated woodpeckers, the humming birds, or the phoebes.  Mostly she did not mention the flora.  Perhaps she is leaving that for a part 2.  No blind is required to observe the flora.  And they are much easier to photograph.

Which brings me to an important note.  I thank my wife for the kind comments regarding my greater photography skill.  But alas, there actually are no photos with this post.  Due to some technical issues with a new computer – you may recall the last one succumbed to a five-finger discount while we were in Mexico – and with new Flickr linkages, I was unable to get the photos uploaded in time for this post.  And as R related, those animals just will not stand still.  Perhaps we will have a supplement latter.

On to musings:

 

Our house is like a hunting blind in the woods.  It is in the middle of a clearing in our forest and we can look out of the windows on almost every side and see different animals passing by.  It is a refuge and we both enjoy it a lot.

This week we saw a tiny baby deer following its mother as she grazed.  The baby kept trying to nurse when the mother stayed in one place.  When she moved it had to trot to keep up. (It was so young that it barely could hobble. –dt) There was another small deer with them.  The mother kept chasing it away.  I wondered if it might be last year's fawn.  Usually the mothers leave their fawns in a 'nest'.  I don't know if this one refused to be left or what, but it was the tiniest white tail deer I have ever seen. 

After that a fat old groundhog waddled by.  Nothing particularly special there but they always seem to be so cheerful that you can't help liking them unless you are a farmer and they are eating your soybeans or making holes in your fields.

My pond is doing well this year.  We can watch it from our patio.  I have loads of fish; at least three turtles; lots of frogs of different kinds; many salamanders; tadpoles galore; and Mr. Snake.  The fish don't like me very much right now.  Yesterday we cleaned out the cistern and dumped a lot of mucky water in the pond.  When I took out their fish food and yelled, "Here fish. Here fish", they turned up their fishy noses and swam away.

The turtles however had no such scruples.  They immediately stuck their heads up and started chomping.  The turtles like fish food about as much as I like potato chips.  They are just about as noisy as I am with chips; go figure.  The exciting news is this:  Myrtle is at it again.  I found two nests that I hope contain baby turtle eggs.  In fact the turtles have become much more outgoing.  The other day I was trying to move the waterfall pump - by poking it with a stick- when I slipped on the rocks and fell into the pond.  Yertle immediately swam over and looked at me quite sternly as if to say "Are you planning to move into our pond?"  (Maybe we are heading towards a turtle pond.  –dt) "No, no it was an accident.  I just fell in; I am leaving," I reassured him.  "Well, OK then.…"  Yertle kept an eye on me but backed away as I clambered out dripping with mucky water.  This was just what I had hoped to avoid by poking at the pump with a stick.  Sigh.  The turtles used to jump under the water whenever they saw me but now they seem to recognize me as a food source.  They still don't want to be patted but they do stick their heads up and listen when I talk to them.

It is odd because just when the turtles are getting bolder Mr. Snake is getting more nervous.  In times past Mr. Snake used to chase me away.  Many snakes are shy but water snakes are aggressive. (They are totally not dangerous.  –dt) Whenever he saw me Mr. Snake would hold up his head and slowly advance while I would rapidly retreat. (R is a typical ophidiophobe.  –dt) He tried it once too often.  He tried to chase me when I had a long handled rake in my hand.   Well I held out that rake as far as it would go and poked at Mr. Snake.  Mama would have been so proud!  Give Mama a hoe and she was the bane of any snake in existence, or at least in Ohio.  Mr. Snake was shocked and appalled.  The worm - or in this case the woman - had turned.  Since that day whenever he sees me Mr. Snake retreats to the far side of the pond and crawls under a rock.   Fine by me.

The pond attracts a lot of other animals.  When we first returned this spring we had several visits from a barred owl.  He would perch on a tree overlooking the pond and look things over.  His head would turn in almost a complete circle.  Sometimes he would fly from one tree to another.  Eventually he would swoop down to the pond and then fly away.  I think he was catching frogs which the internet says are part of his diet.

Other visitors we had were a pair of wood ducks.  This pleases me because they are somewhat uncommon.  The male has a very distinctive black and white coloring.  The female, as is common with birds, is drab.  Alas poor birds.  Anyways, a couple of times this pair stopped by and swam in our little pond for a while and then flew off to some other water hole nearby.  Best part came when one day Dan spotted the mother duck paddling along trailing a bunch of ducklings.  I hope they return soon so I can see them.

One morning I was looking out the kitchen window when I saw some frantic activity at the top of the snag of a tree about 25 feet in the air.  I called Dan and the two of us tried to guess what animal or bird was up there and what they were doing.  After discarding woodpecker, cat, and groundhog we finally settled on raccoon.  We decided that they were trying to build a nest right across from our porch where they regularly try to break into our fish food container.  What a convenient location for them.   After having decided that this was an animal I didn't mind disturbing, I wandered out to try and take a picture.  Dan stayed inside to watch as he always finds my efforts quite entertaining.  Well trying to be quiet I snuck up to the side of the tree the raccoon was working from.  The raccoon promptly climbed around to the other side.  I slid around to the other side but that wily rascal moved again.  After we had both circled the tree two or three times the raccoon tired of this game and heaved herself up to the top of the tree and jumped down the center.  As I came back inside, "Get any good pictures?" Dan asked.  There are times when I think husbandcide is surely justified.  (And so is wifeocide.  –dt) At this point it is only fair that I give credit where credit is due.  Most but not all of the photos that illustrate these posts were taken by Dan.  He is much better at it.

            Once upon a midnight dreary

            While I pondered weak and weary

            Over many a quaint and curious

            Volume of forgotten lore

            As I nodded nearly napping

            Suddenly there came a rapping

            As of something gently tapping

           Tapping on my window pane

No, I guess not.  Someone has already written this or at least something similar to it.  However that may be, late one night after Dan had gone to bed I was reading in my office when I heard a gentle tick, tick, tick.  Moths, I thought, attracted by the light, I often heard them in the evening.  Then I heard THUNK, THUNK.  "Oh no the thieves have come back," I thought.  I jumped out of my recliner (where she often reads very deeply, with her eyes shut  –dt) in alarm and ran to the window where I saw the biggest most beautiful Luna Moth I could imagine.  (Luna Moths are very, very large.  –dt) And the way he was knocking on my window I could tell he wanted to come in.  Well I was tempted.  I have reverently held Lunas on my fingertips a couple of times and they are lovely.  I put my finger against the glass and he tried to climb on, but of course it did not work.  I wanted it to.  But if he got loose in my office how would I catch him?  In the end common sense prevailed and I turned off my lights and when I turned them on in a few minutes he was gone.  So my friends I wish you all nights of magic like mine, full of Luna Moths, and lightning bugs, and stars.

 

We have a busy summer this year.  Many trips.  Perhaps our resident writer will have some things to report later.

Best wishes,

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

Turn Around Time

THE MOSQUITO WAR

 

We are beginning to wrap things up down here at the Winter Residence in Mexico.  The puzzles are put away and the long-term Canadians have returned north.  We will be here for Easter this year as it has floated up to an earlier in the calendar.  So it is almost time to get up north and do our taxes, insurance paperwork, and tend to our startup procedures there.  And we have a busy summer ahead.

 

But there are still things going on with us about town.  R is still squeezing in some SCUBA.  She has seen quite a few turtles recently.  And she still has another riding lesson; you will see some pictures of her on Simon with her instructor Marcella standing there.  They are both sad because R's favorite horse, Charlie, died on the way back from Guadalajara after successfully completing in some jumping competition.  Rebecca shared her new 'cowboy' shirt with her instructor.

 

Rebecca had the opportunity for a special ride.  We had a couple of days of significant rain; yes, it does rain here in the winter occasionally.  One morning this gentleman named Gustavo showed up with his horse at the front of the condo.  He had been asked by one of the renters to come and give her a ride up the arroyo.  But he came about two hours late because of the rain and the renter had left to do other things.  Well Mrs.T, always wanting to ride, seized the opportunity and had a nice two-hour ride to the other side of Bucerias.

 

Mrs. T has written about her favorite insect from time to time.  Winter here has been warmer and wetter than normal – which has contributed to Mrs.T's situation below.  Here is another of her commentaries.  (I need to note that I heard the fogging truck pass by while I was editing this.  –dt)

 

 

 

Mosquitos have always been quite fond of me, an affection I do not return. 

In the past when our family went on a picnic Dan and the children would send me out to check out the proposed site hoping these pests would fill up on my delicious blood and leave them alone.  (It just happened that way naturally.  –dt) The mosquitos in Mexico seem to share the same preference.  Although I repeatedly remind him not to, Dan often seems to leave the screen door wide open (I am not the only one.  –dt) and in they rush.  Why should he care; they don't bite him.  (I have a sufficiently high blood garlic level.  –dt)

 

The Mexican mosquitos invariably head for my feet.  Perhaps it is because I often wear long shifts and nighties and my feet are the easiest target area for decent insects.  Or maybe it is because the evil little beasts live in the grass and low lying plants and my toes are only a short hop away.  When I am in bed and get too hot I tend to stick my feet out from under the covers to cool off.  Guess where they immediately bite me?

 

To protect myself I am always spraying insect repellent on my feet and lower legs. 

"Do you really think you should get in bed with that stuff on your feet?" Dan asks.  Well yes, I definitely do.  (Ah, the scent of eau-de-DEET.   –dt)

 

One day not long ago I achieved a minor victory.  A mosquito was dive bombing me when I clapped my hands together and SPLAT!!  I got the little blood sucker.  The tiny corpse fell to the floor leaking blood - mine I am sure.  I pulled Dan in to share my moment of triumph but he was unimpressed, insisting I wipe up my grizzly trophy.

 

Well from that moment on the battle assumed a new dynamic.  I was no longer the unwilling victim, I was on the offensive.  I found that our two bathrooms were small enough that the enemy could not escape.  So whenever I enter one for whatever reason - to brush my teeth, take a shower, whatever - I immediately close the door and scout around.  Fortunately the walls in both rooms are light colored and the enemy shows up nicely.  I have found that using an 8 by 10 inch notebook I am able to squash the little devils about half the time.  I find this an acceptable kill rate.  At least the ones I don't kill must be getting nervous.

 

Last night I entered the bathroom and noticed a new and wonderful development.  Where in the past the little monsters buzzed around me waiting for me to stop so they could find the optimal target area, last night I entered the bathroom and saw a mosquito immediately fly out.  I've got them on the run!

 

 

Here are a few pictures:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157649277860194/

The end of March brings a host of sporting events:  March Madness – the US college basketball championship; women's world hockey championship – USA vs. Canada; Malaysian F1 Grandprix – the second race of the new season; and of course the men's world curling championship.  The sports channels are getting a real workout.

 

See many of you soon.  We hope it will be warmer than the temps we are seeing in Zanesville of late.  (Happy Birthday Lisa!)

 

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

 

The Blacks

BLACKBEARD, BLACK BART, and BLACK BUTT

 

The Muse has delegated this episode to your humble editor who will bring you up-to-date on some of the happenings as we head towards our last weeks at the Winter Residence.

 

First, as many of you know, we were burglarized and robbed in January.  No, not here in Mexico, but at the Summer Estate in Philo.  More than once.  One or probably several miscreants broke into our house and made off with televisions, cameras, a computer, pocket knives and tools, cash and coins, and – most dearly – Rebecca's jewelry.  Mrs.T even took a one-week trip back north to make a preliminary assessment and do some basic cleaning.  She also got an alarm system installed by ADT.  We will make a fuller evaluation of other missing items when we return.  Like most folks, we were underinsured and can only hope for some compensation.  However, the memories engendered in the trinkets of 45 years are now more fleeting.  If any of you see the very distinctive items that R has worn over the years, please let us know.  Many, many thanks are owed Jonnie E. and his family for their assistance in this entire ordeal.  We cannot make additional comments because, as it is said, the case is still 'open'.  Just don't believe what you see on TV shows.

 

The puzzle ladies have really been outdoing themselves of late.  They have been plunking pieces down left and right, and completing puzzles at a phenomenal rate.  A few pieces have even been added by the gentlemen.  You see can the results in the linked pictures.  Thanks to those who donated puzzles.

 

Several of the ladies also made their way to Puerto Vallarta for what has become an annual outing to stroll, shop, and lunch.  I have been informed that Rebecca has a couple of items on order to add to her trousseaux.  You will see Mrs.T with her new best friend; the editor apparently has been supplanted.  Thanks go to JS the Taller for those pictures.

 

On the sports front, Mrs.T is concerned that your editor may be moving to Canada.  I now have a more than passing interest in ice hockey.  Courtesy of PS I have been learning the finer points of rugby.  And most of all through the many Manitobans, I have become thoroughly acquainted with the intricacies of curling.  We held a couple of sessions to watch the Canadian Women's Curling Championship, aka The Scotties, on our big screen TV.

 

Most of you probably have only the faintest knowledge of curling when you saw it during coverage of some Winter Olympics.  And most likely that is when you either took a munchies break or switched channels.  It is a deadly serious sport in Canada, particular in the provinces in the midsection of the country.  It is somewhat like a cross between bocce and billiards but on ice.  In the championship game Jennifer Jones, the skip for the team from Manitoba, won with the hammer stone in the tenth end.  A lawyer by profession, she is considered the preeminent female curler in Canada; you won't see her in the courtroom too often.

 

The inevitable urbanization of Bucerias continues apace.  From our bedroom window we can see where a new seven-storey condominium high-rise is projected to be in construction soon.  The area has been cleared and a guard is on duty.  You will see a picture of Juan Carlos, the man who brings strawberries and other fruits – we recently had mamey - to our front door, holding one of the escapees from the lot where the overgrowth was cleared.  Many large iguanas had been thriving on this essentially empty piece of land.

 

And to the main part of this newsletter.  You may have heard of Blackbeard the pirate, Edward Teach, who preyed upon ships in the West Indies in the early 18^th century.  And you might have heard of Black Bart, Charles Edward Bowles, the English-born gentleman bandit in the late 19^th century American west. But only a few are familiar with The Black Butt, aka Culo Negro, who had recently emerged in the annals of Bucerias.  And very, very few have actually seen it.

 

Apparently R was anxious for another visit to Dr. Victor.  As you read in our last installment, she had begun horse riding at a stable in our area.  She even bought a nice pair of tooled leather boots in Vallarta.  And she was doing well the first few weeks considering she was riding an English saddle with which she had an earlier mishap up North.  Well, a couple of weeks ago she had an incident at her lesson.  The horse 'shied' and decided to suddenly do a hop to the East, much like the 'Time Warp' in Rocky Horror .  However, the laws of physics being what they are, Rebecca remained in a northern trajectory whereupon she had a rapid and unexpected dismount from the horse, landing upon her backside and hip.  It was a very, very bad bruise.  And her abdomen was shaken like a concussion particularly with her hip banging her insides, per The Voodoo Doctor's analysis.

 

Unfortunately Dr. Victor was in Guadalajara for the weekend.  But when he returned, and as the bruise grew in intensity as well as the pain in her innards, we headed up the hill where he confirmed the diagnosis.  With several rounds of anti-inflammatory injections and antibiotics, Mrs.T has returned to her normal self and the bruise has almost dissipated.  She even went horse riding yesterday and said it was more comfortable than the bus from PV.  Although I suggested it, she did not permit any posterior pictures to document the Culo Negro; we only have eyewitness accounts.

 

Here are just a few pictures:

 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157651075916935/

 

 

We have observed that there really is winter up north.  We hope you all are staying dry and warm.  And don't get stressed moving snow around; it will melt soon enough.

 

Best wishes,

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

At It Again

REBECCA RIDES AGAIN

Not satisfied with boogie boarding and scuba diving (She recently saw seahorses. -dt), Rebecca decided that she would attempt riding horses while here in Mexico.  Thank you, Tori, for making that recommendation. Hmm.  The friend of one of our neighbors facilitated Mrs.T's visit to one of the stables in the area; there are several.  They even play polo nearby on occasion. 

A couple of other events should be noted.  The puzzle ladies have been at it, plunking pieces down left and right.  We thank all the folks that have donated puzzles to the cause, particularly Helen and Barrie who contributed a puzzle of Ravensburger Castle they encountered on their European River Cruise.  I am giving them a special shout out because, partially due to their splendid reviews, we are going on the same cruise in June.  Hmm again. We may come back with another puzzle.

And the annual Festival of Our Lady of Peace is wrapping up as we are composing this.  Most of you are familiar with the event with lots of peregrinations, entertainment, and fireworks.  Saturday is the final day and will have the blessing of the boats, presentation of the queen, and the final Castillo. (They actually wound up with five of them.  –dt)  It is a big day for our lovely town.

Here is Rebecca's story about some of her activities:

 

 

The word has gotten out.  Evidently horses all over the world know Rebecca is easy.  I have started horse riding lessons in Mexico and it is deja vu.   You might recall when I was riding in Ohio Tori told me to hit the horse and I gave him a little tap and he turned his head and smirked at me.  Well last week in Mexico the teacher told me to give the horse a kick and when I gave him a little nudge he turned his head, and you guessed it, different horse but the same exact smirk!  But nonetheless I persevere. 

The stable here is much more of a rich person's place.  Here a groom leads up your horse, holds the horse's head and tries not to laugh as I struggle to climb on.  I pretend I am rich but I don't think I am fooling anybody.  My horse is a large sturdy black horse named Simon.  He is a little lethargic.  One of the riders told me everybody starts on Simon.  Of course another rider told me he was high spirited and bucked a lot.  I think that was a joke.

 

They have 32 horses and teach English riding and jumping.  I bought a beautiful pair of cowboy boots.  All of the other adults wear very high black boots and stretchy pants which if they even had them in my size would not be flattering to say the least.  All of the other riders I have met are either men, or teenage girls, or young children.  Some of the riders seem quite accomplished.  The men are either friendly or gallant to me or both.  The teacher and the horses speak Spanish but I'm getting along.  I am not at all sure that Simon likes me.  Next week I am bringing him a carrot.  Simon is very good about stopping, but kind of hard to get started.  I have to kick him a lot and yell "VAS!!" which is Spanish for go.  I ride with an English saddle and so far I am doing okay.  (She has not fallen off; no hoof cleaning either.  –dt)

 

The boogie boarding has been a mixed bag recently.  Some days there have been great waves, not too big or too small.  Some days there have been no waves at all; so we walk the shore looking at tide pools and picking up shells.  Getting there and back has been a little complicated at times as we ride the bus.  I need one hand to carry my boogie board, my handbag/backpack is slung over my shoulder, one hand desperately grasps my shorts which are apt to slide down when over my dive skin or my slippery bathing suit, another hand holds the money for the bus, a final hand holds out my old people's card so that I can ride the bus for half price.  This would be easy enough for an octopus.

 

Last week we had a very grumpy bus driver.  (NB: There weren't any waves that day.  –dt) I was the last of a long line of riders laden with various paraphernalia to get on at the beach stop. "VAMANOS!! VAMANOS!!"  - Let's go!, he shouted at me.  I stumbled up the steps and let go of my shorts to hold out the money.  Alas at that moment gravity struck and I almost had a wardrobe malfunction.  "SIENTASE!!" - SIT DOWN!, the driver yelled at me.  A nice lady grabbed my board so I could adjust my slipping shorts.  After lurching down the aisle - the bus was now racing around the mountains at full speed - I managed to nudge a man over so I could sit down. 

 

Since I had not paid, I followed accepted procedure and passed up my fare.  "Seis" -6, I said, letting the driver know I expected 4 pesos change from my 10 peso coin.  "Seis," said the lady in the seat in front of me as she passed on my fare.  This honor system always works and I had never known it to fail - until this day.  My four pesos did not come back.  Shortly a money collector slouched down the aisle.  (Some busses have an 'assistant' to collect fares.  –dt) "You owe me four pesos!" I accused in Spanish.  "No, you owe me two!" he shouted back.  Usually bus drivers are nice but you meet the occasional grump and they have been known to overcharge foreigners.  'I have a third-age card.  I am half price."  I replied waving my card at him. "Yes, she is old, give her a discount!" said the man in the seat across the aisle. (Her grey mane obviously verifies the fact.  –dt) Thanks, I think.  "You young people should show more respect," said another older lady.  Faced with a general revolt, the driver returned my change.  After a few miles I carefully dismounted the bus holding all my stuff with my right hand and my shorts with my left and slowly but triumphantly trudged home.

 

A few peregrination pictures and a puzzle too:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157650496132145/

 

We hope all of you are warm and safe.

Happy Lunar New Year!

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com