MORE ON PERU

PERU

You should forgive Mrs.T if this is her second story about Peru although it sounds as if maybe is should have been first.  I think that she was so enthralled about the trip to Machu Picchu that she had to get that out right away.  She had a very nice vacation with her sisters and other family.

This story has been somewhat delayed due to some significant health issues suffered by the editor.  He is on the mend now.  I heartedly thank family and members of the Jacarandas community for all their support and well wishes during that time.  Perhaps the next issue of the newsletter will have a description.

Well, onto Rebecca's account of other aspects of her trip:

Rita and I flew to Peru to visit our niece Alana and her family.  Her husband Charlie works for the state department at the American Embassy in Lima. They have two little girls, the eldest is Mia and the youngest one is Madeline.  I couldn't resist!  (You try to decode that statement.  -dt)

Alana was the perfect hostess she had lined up all different kinds of things for us to see and do.  Charlie was funny and charming.  Having three sexagenarians as guests - Ruth was already staying with the family - might have challenged many but we all got along well.  We always felt welcome.

Alana's helper Miss Flor had just taken a month off.  This left the girls in the situation of having to get their own breakfasts.  They did not miss being waited on so much as just the attention.  As I was the earliest riser among the old ladies I ate with them.  I entertained them and they me.

"Why do old people take so many pills?" one of the girls asked as she watched me sort my pill bottles.

"Maybe because they hurt so much," I replied

"They hurt soo much!," Madeline, who is going through a parrot phase replied sympathetically.

Of course with parrot children you have to be very cautious what you say because it will be spouted back at you often at unfortunate times.  

"What are the pills for?" they asked.

"Well, these are for my tummy, these are for arthritis, these are for anxiety, these are for being sad, these ---"  I was interrupted.

"Why are you sad, Aunt Rebecca?" Mia asked'

"Because she hurts soo much," Madeline replied.

The causes of depression are many and complicated so I just nodded in agreement and continued with the list.

"These are for when old ladies feel too hot, these are for my heart, and these are vitamins," I concluded.

The girls helped me pick out a purple vitamin out of my jar of over the counter medicines.  It is sometimes hard for me to pick one out because of my shaky hands.

"Why are your hands so shaky, Aunt Rebecca?" Mia asked.

"Well I don't know," I replied.  "Why do you suppose that is?"   I almost never refuse to answer questions from children; if I don't know I admit it.  Sometimes their insights are quite amazing.  However in this case not so.

"Because you hurt soo much," Madeline replied.

The girls helped me get my breakfast.  They brought me a banana.  Mia very carefully poured me some lemonade.  They helped me pick out my cereal.

"This kind is really good," Mia explained, "this kind is OK, and this kind tastes bad, only Madeline will eat it!"

"I really don't like it either," Madeline confessed. (!)

I chose the really good kind. And it was really good.  We were ready to start our day.  Most of my days started this way except by the third day the girls were telling me "that pill is for your tummy; that one is for anxiety, etc."

Rita, Ruth, and I ate our way around Peru.  The food was excellent and exotic.  We ate local fruits  that we had never seen.  Some we liked a lot; some was barely palatable.  I had somehow expected that being another Spanish speaking country the food would be similar to Mexican but it was not.  I did however refuse to eat guinea pig.  They are just too cute and fuzzy.

I did try the pink beer.  It was okay if you like beer.  They make it from purple corn. The corn in Peru is in short fat ears with very large kernels. It comes in a lot of different colors.  The amazing thing is the size of it when they pop it like popcorn.

We went to a horse show of a special breed of Peruvian horses.  These horses have only one gait. They lift each leg one at a time. To go faster they do it faster.  It is beautiful to see them.  This gait is very smooth.  These horses are born knowing to walk and run this way.  They do not trot or gallop.  They brought out a colt and sure enough he pranced around the same way.  While we were watching they brought us French fried yucca leaves with a yellow fruit sauce.  We loved it!  We had a feast at the hacienda after the show.  

The feast had all different kinds of food.  We sampled as many as we could.  There were many potato appetizers.  They featured little squares of mashed potatoes of different colors with little shrimp, veggies, meats on top.  We thought it was a little odd that they would color their potatoes bright purple, bright pink, bright green, and bright yellow.  But we were wrong.  They have over three hundred kinds of potatoes of all different colors.  I think this was where I had a pink lemonade smoothie which was made with cooked purple corn.  It was delicious.

Every day was a different adventure.  We visited a really neat museum,  Larco or something like that.  It had signs in lots of different languages; to find one in English we looked for one beside the Union Jack.  As a visually challenged old person I wished the printing was a little larger.  We visited different sites of native peoples.  We rode on the top of open air tour bus.  Charlie took us on a tour of the embassy which was interesting as well as inspiring.  Rita and I took a pottery class.  And everywhere we went we shopped.  We felt it was our duty to support the local economy.  And we were enthusiastically dutiful.  (She certainly was, including duties on the item she had shipped to the condo.  -dt)

In the evenings we entertained the younger generations with stories of our youth.  I soon noticed a disturbing pattern in these reminiscences.  They all seemed to feature "Aunt Rebecca" doing strange or embarrassing things when she was very young.  (She is still at it.  -dt) Well!  I had some memories of my own.  I then related the sad tale of my childhood.  I was the youngest of three girls.  Before the advent of video games we had to amuse ourselves.  I always got the short end of the stick.  When we played house Ruth was the mother, Rita was the father, and I was the child.  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.  When we played doctor Ruth was the nurse, Rita was the doctor, and I was the sick child.  When we played Christmas Ruth was Mary, Rita was Joseph, and I was Baby Jesus.  Unfortunately this did not work out too well because Ruth and Rita somehow managed to stuff me into the manger where we fed our cows but they could not get me out.  They went away and left me!!  Although I can't recall, I imagine our Mother was not pleased.  Charlie said I should be thankful we did not play funeral because I would certainly have been the corpse.  At any rate these stories had a rapt audience with the girls.  Whether we will regret it remains to be seen.

Subsequent to Mrs.T's departure the remainder of the clan went on to explore the Amazon River jungle area of Peru.  I have included just a few pictures from that part because there are better pictures of the girls, Alana, and Charlie:

https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/WJ8SJ2

We will be seeing you folks up north before too long.  It looks like rain is in the forecast.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

Casa de Terrible www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com Rebecca thought she would write another story about our recent travels in England. (Please visit our blog space www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com if you did not see ...

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Working on her list

Mrs. T's Southern Adventure

As most of you know we are currently in residence at our Mexican home.  We will return north in time for Rebecca to see her flowers begin to bloom and to file our taxes.  But while here Rebecca decided to make a trek to Peru to scratch an item off her bucket list.

The genesis of this trip is a bit convoluted.  Mrs.T's sister Ruth - she has not appeared in our newsletter often - has a son-in-law who works for the U.S. State Department and is currently posted in Peru.  Rita, the third sister, was already visiting here and the three sisters decided they would gather in Peru for a get together.  (Your editor decided the stress would be too much and stayed at home. -dt)  The trip was greatly aided by Charlie and Alana who did a splendid job and much of the heavy lifting to coordinate things.  Many thanks.

Here is the story:

The Three R's (Readin' Ruth, 'Ritin' Rita and little 'Rithmetic Sue - that's me - ride again.  My sisters and I journeyed to and around Peru visiting family, seeing the sights, and enjoying the different culture.  The people were very friendly and seemed to enjoy us also.  

Ruth and I climbed the Inca ruins at Machu Picchu.  (Rita was unable to make that part of the trip.  -dt)  First you ride this small train.  Then you come to a village that exists solely to prey upon the tourists.  Note the picture of Ruth and I wearing Inca crowns.  You may imagine that with age comes a sense of dignity.  Wrong!  Adam who is Ruth's son and a fireman came along.  He was really sweet about carrying our bags, took lots of pictures of us, and helped us up and down steep places.  (He is the tall bald guy in several photos.  -dt)

There were lots of steep places around Machu Picchu which is in the Andes Mountains.  Ruth and I were worried about altitude sickness.  So we took altitude pills, and oxygen pills which our niece gave us.  We also drank vile tasting coca tea which was supposed to give us more energy. And finally whenever we felt a little tired or out of breath we sucked coca candies.  The coca tea and candy are made from the same plant as cocaine.  I know nothing about cocaine, but if it tastes as bad as the tea I don't see how anyone could become addicted.  Something in all of our pharmacopeia must have worked because Ruth and I climbed up and down approximately two million, seven hundred eighty-two thousand, three hundred and nine very tall steps.  Here is a question.  If the Inca were a short people - and we know they were because they made short doors in their buildings - why did they make such tall steps?

Ruth and I, after a light breakfast and several cups of coca tea rode the bus up the mountain.  Adam had risen at some ridiculous hour and skipped up the mountain to view the sunrise from the top!  We, however, wended our stately way, propped up by two canes apiece.  Ruth carried a small backpack with two bottles of water.  I had my pockets stuffed with coca candies and soles, Peruvian money.  (R might be in the hoosegow if she brought those coca leaves and candies back with her.  -dt)

As we approached  the gate we were accosted by several guides.  "I am the perfect guide for you ladies," one claimed.  We viewed him suspiciously.  He looked very young and fit; perhaps we needed someone older and slower.  "I know lots of shortcuts so you can go to the important temples without climbing so many steps," he claimed.  "I know lots of flat stones you can sit on if you get tired."  "I will go very slowly and stop so you can rest and take pictures," he promised.  This was the guide for us!  After some brief dickering as to the price we took off.

The air was thin and cool.  The tall mountains touched the sky.  The great stone wings of the Condor sky god pointed from his temple to his lofty realms.  People of many tribes and races come to Machu Picchu.  What do they seek: a new experience, a different sight?   Ruth and I slowly made our way across the terraces, stopping now and then to rest on flat stones.  We climbed the tall steps to to see the temples.  The stone walls remained with empty windows facing down over the terraces to the valley.  Llamas grazed contentedly as the passing of centuries did not concern them.  We breathed the clear cool air.  Then we went down.

Rebecca did not take any pictures but other members of the party did - 1500+ in all.  I culled through them and picked a representative handful:

https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/C687H5

And yes the local folks know tourists when they see them; the three R's dropped a few soles during their visit.

See some of you in the spring.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

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HOLIDAYS 2016

THIS AND THAT - CHRISTMAS 2016

After being here for several winters we have adjusted to having Christmas here is Mexico.  No, there is no snow.  And no pine trees.  But we have our very nice little table-top artificial tree.  And our beautiful nascimento.  {New ornaments this year included a very nice crystal heart from Judy and a beaded scorpion (!?) Mrs.T bought.}

Of course we very much miss family, but everyone has become more far flung and are rarely going to gather at one place at the same time.  We telephone everyone and may even do video calls in the near future.  And Nick and Rita will be here for separate visits after the first of the year.  J&J from Zanesville are in town now.

Mrs.T has a few comments about recent events.  We hope you enjoy her observations.  No pictures.

Judy and I were feeling festive so we got our toenails painted Red with golden sparkles.   Oh Christmas toes! Oh Christmas toes!  How lovely are your sparkles!  I was warbling happily to the tune of  "Oh Christmas Tree".  Dan, who has no musical appreciation, made a rather derogatory comment.  Oh well.  (Judy is our Dr. Puzzle and Mrs.T's frequent shopping companion.  -dt)

The community Christmas Pasada was held again this year after missing a year, so that was good.  This is kind of a block party with Christmas carols, pinatas, a clown, and lots of free food.  We especially enjoy it because it is an event that both the Mexicans and the gringos share with joyful enthusiasm.  (The pasada is really for the neighbor children; Rebecca fits right in.  -dt)

I was entering the bathroom one day when EEK!! A little gecko jumped right in front of my face.  I am not afraid of geckos but it startled me.  Since then I have seen him quite often, usually hiding behind the waste basket.  Whenever I see him I admonish him, "Eat ants!"  He must be listening because the ant population, which had been a problem, is way down.  Dan claims to have seen him clutching a teeny, tiny GEICO insurance policy.

Judy was going to make Christmas ornaments with the orphans.  Brenda and I went along to help.  As my hands are pretty shaky my help consisted of mostly translation and hugs.  The orphans were mostly enthusiastic and liked hugs.

The spring tide reinforced by a close moon has reconfigured the beach yet again; you can walk in and not be stuck in a trough.  Scuba diving has been good for me and last week I saw a tractor crab for the first time.  He was round, instead of flat.  When I first saw him rolling across the ocean floor i thought he was a hermit crab.  Alex picked him up so that I could see him.  When I set him down on the ocean floor he started digging frantically to bury himself,  Once he got a nice hole he splashed sand furiously on top of himself.  He waited a moment and then he cautiously poked up his two eyes to see if we were still there.  Overall however diving has been pretty slow this year. I heard Alex tell another divemaster all he had going for him was two boats and Rebecca.  Dan was speculating if I was worth as much as a boat or half a boat or what.

I put away the Christmas puzzle and tomorrow I will start on a new one.  On Christmas morning we followed our shadows down the road and over the bridge to Church.  It was not well attended, probably everyone went the night before.  (That was verified to us by VCW who said the Advent Wreath fell during the procession and created excitement with the candles going everywhere.  -dt) And I missed the absent choir.  Still it touched my heart to hear the two-thousand-year-old story of the Christmas miracle.  And what baby is not a miracle whatever else you do or do not believe.

EEK the gecko sends you all lots of kisses. (They are called kissing gekos because they call to each other making smoochie sounds.   And God bless us every one!

Happy New Year!

Go Bucks!

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

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Jolly Good Time

GOOD TIME IN ENGLAND

As many of you know we are now at our winter residence in Bucerias.  Sunshine and warm - hot according to R.  We have been here three weeks and life is back to normal.  We can effectively switch residences in less than a week.  We both are much happier here rather than gloomy Ohio.  Puzzles have already been worked on, even a castle in Germany.

Rebecca thought she would write another story about our recent travels in England. (Please visit our blog space www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com if you did not see our first story, Mind the Gap! -dt) The people there were really quite nice to us.  They routinely yielded seats to us on the tube.  They were helpful with directions. Things ran on time.  We received good recommendations from P&J to take smaller vans for tours rather than large busses.  That worked out quite well as for example our trip to Stonehenge and environs that R rhapsodizes about.

England was great fun.  London was full of skinny people from every nation in the world.  They rushed around like crazy but they almost never bumped into one another.  They reminded me of schools of fish.  How do they do that?

We went to the Tate Modern Museum.  It  was full of some very strange art.  Some of it I liked.  A lot of it was social commentary and while I found it interesting, insightful, and clever, it was also rather depressing.  I can be depressed without any help.  This art was in dark and dull colors.  One thing I found fascinating was the artists' use of non-traditional materials.  Some of these included barbed wire, egg shells, dirt, cement blocks, unfinished wood and yarn to name a few.  (The ferrymen did not care much for the Tate Modern -dt)

To get to the Tate we rode a ferry.  I loved riding the ferries up and down the Thames.  We rode past many famous sights.  We recognized some:  Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and the Tower.  Others the ferrymen pointed out to us: the school that Winston Churchill got thrown out of for fighting, a private school where they filmed Harry Potter movies, etc. (Harry Potter and Downton Abbey tours are very popular.  -dt)  I also saw a store where Kate buys her frocks; Dan showed no interest.  Looking over the boat rail I could also pick out other famous sites from our map.  As an avid reader of historical  novels, it seemed so familiar as we glided past the reconstruction of the Globe Theater and under some of the famous bridges.

We did not visit just London but went further afield.  Salisbury Plain is a series of lush pastures that reach from horizon to horizon to the southeast of London.  Dark spots mark cows or small groups of cattle grazing slowly up and down the low hills.  But one dark spot on a far hilltop does not seem to move.  As we slowly approach the stones separate and there it is - Stonehenge.  It was a long walk from the parking to Stonehenge.  (It was a long walk to the gift shop and ticket concession.  And another long walk from the drop off point to the stones.  -dt) Dan rested on a bench, talking to strangers.  But I went on.  It seemed right to approach it on foot.  There was a little pamphlet and a few small signs.  But mostly it was only these massive stones reaching to the sky, and me.  There were quite a few extraneous people wandering around, littering the landscape but I ignored them.  Alas, vandals being what they are, you  cannot  approach too closely.  Dan and I support capital punishment for defacing cultural landmarks.  (I probably would shoot them on the spot.  -dt) There was a low rope barrier.  I did not mind it too much, it was not intrusive, but still the Stones drew me.  What did it mean?  I cannot say.  But it meant something.   

We spent a day and a night in Amberley Castle.  (Mrs.T insisted we stay at least one night in a castle; this was our own adventure. -dt) I was in bliss!!  It had walls, turrets, towers, and a great hall.  We read the history of who owned the castle, who burned it down, who rebuilt it.  At one point it was given to a queen - it might have been Charlotte = as a wedding present.  It was all very satisfactory.  The moat was now a croquet court.  The rooms were decorated in different historical styles.  It even had an oubliette - a hole where you dump prisoners and throw them a loaf every now and then.  We could amble around the grounds admiring the flowers, great tea roses, and statues or sit in a nook in  the wall and have a drink or a cup of tea.  White doves nested in the eaves.  I floated around imagining that I was Royal, or upper class, or at least English.  I told another guest - English - that I thought the castle was wonderful.  "Yes, it is quite nice," she replied.  (Typical understatement.  -dt)

In the evening we ascended the grand staircase to the Great Hall.  Passing suits of armour and battle standards we threaded our way under portraits of someone's ancestors to our supper table.  The narrow window was open and I wondered if the white doves ever got in.  (We later learned that the portraits were of no one in particular but just plucked from a gallery on the continent.  -dt) I wished I had brought a full skirted, low cut, floor length, satin gown and a chestful of jewels.  I asked Dan if he felt grand.  He didn't.  Sigh!  (I did like the pictures. -dt)

Supper consisted of seven courses.  Each one more ornate that the next.  Our waiter proudly announced in French what we were eating.  Mostly I had no idea what we were eating although every now and then I caught a familiar word.  The  food was all beautifully presented it had a combination different flavours and textures.  All of it was good and some of it was fabulous.  My favorite was a glistening white ball with a semi-sweet liqueur with a pomegranate flavour in the center.  The main course was braised pork.  Dan felt the portion was quite small for a main course.  I suppose it was, but after eating all seven courses I was quite full.

At night I climbed under our feather coverlet and dreamed of King Arthur.

Here are a few photos:

https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/cFKW14

Amberley Castle Hotel is one in a chain throughout the UK.  This chain in turn is a member of a larger consortium that has castle hotels throughout Europe.  If one has the money you can stay in luxury wherever you travel.  One night was more than sufficient for our limited budget.

Stay warm and dry.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Dan and Rebecca

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MIND THE GAP!

As many of you know Mrs.T and I are on vacation in the UK - a big item on Rebecca's bucket list.  Quite frankly we are getting a bit long in the tooth - tiredness sets in a bit more quickly than we hope. But all-in-all things are going quite nicely.  Rebecca has been able to see some gardens and other sites on her list.  We spent a night in a castle.  We cruised the Thames.  And visited the Tate Modern.  We still have a couple of tours left.  We did cut back some but have a full plate of things to do.

We started off with the usual annoyances, particularly in Toronto. We nearly missed our connection there despite leaving about three hours between flights.  And the security folks there confiscated the 1 ½  inch letter opener from my do-everything credit-card-sized pocket toolkit; they must have thought it would be a deadly weapon on the plane.  And then the first things we lost were our walking sticks which we left on the taxi from Gatwick to our flat.  Most of you know how we depend upon them to get around.  Fortunately I looked in an odd looking second-hand shop near our Kew tube station and the lady just happened to have two used canes that have worked perfectly.  Mrs. T has an initial vignette of our travels thus far:

As many of you know we are traveling in Merry Ole England.  We have noticed that the locals are very friendly.  They are also very skinny.  And they walk very fast.  Nonetheless they seem well disposed to Dan and I, toddling along with canes from tourist site to tourist site,  We have pretty much mastered (That may be a bit strong; at least we have the basics. -dt) traveling by the Tube, except for 'The Gap'.  (The 'gap' is the opening between the door and the platform.  -dt) At every stop the train's recorded message says, 'Mind the gap.'  I certainly mind the gap. In fact sometimes I mind it quite a lot.  It can be only a couple of inches and level.  Or it can  be 6 or 8 inches across and the same amount up or down.   One day as I teetered on the edge of a large gap two hands grasped my right arm, two hands grasped my left arm, and two hands grasped my waist. Very quickly I was gently deposited on the platform.  As I turned to thank the gentlemen another handed me my bag and a moment later they quietly disappeared.    

All of London is simply dripping with history in little details.  'Watermen' took us across the Thames from Westminster Pier to Bankside Pier right in front of the Globe where we queued until we were able to get tickets. (A gentleman had some extras that he needed to sell -dt) We went to the Globe Theatre to see the 'Scottish Play' - aka Macbeth.  It was a superb production.  The original had been modified here and there with modern references as when one of the witches spoke of the devil and one of the lesser demons - a superb liar called Trump.  One character, I think it was McDuff called, "On to England!" and another replied, "Mind the gap!"  The entire audience convulsed.  I really enjoyed being part of the 500 year old reproduction theater.  We did rent pillows, which I understand you could have done five centuries back also.  We did not want to be realistic enough to stand in the pit for 2 ½ hours.  This is the only building in London allowed to have a thatched roof, this construction method having contributed to the great fire of London 350 years ago.  

What Mrs.T has neglected to mention is the other attentive assistance she has received.  As you know she has some sort of aura about her that gives out "I am a nice person" rays.  Once we were going home and walking down the steps of the passage under the trains at the Kew station.  A young man who had just walked up the stairs said, "May I help you Madam?" and proceeded to help Rebecca with her load down the steps.  Not only that, at the other end another young man helped her carry her load up the other stairs.  Humpf!  I would let some young female help me, should one offer, but someone would object vociferously I am sure.

And the weather is a far cry from either Philo or Bucerias.  When we arrived it was humid mid-80s (30c) and now it is cool, less than 70 (20c), overcast and a bit damp.

Here are a few pictures:

https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/QWG602

Back in Philo in a couple of weeks.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

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YES WE ARE ALIVE

CASA de TERRIBLE, WHERE ARE YOU?

A few of you may have been wondering where we have been hiding.  In truth, nowhere.  The last couple of months and much of the summer has just been full of unusual and unexpected events.  Now this will sound like a list of complaints or sob stories, but it really is not intended that way.

We had some familial deaths.  Mrs.T visited the ER and then was in the hospital for several days because of a tooth.  And not long after she injured Matilda who is still healing.  As noted below, the Editor now has another systemic disease to contend with - not curable but fortunately treatable.  Unfortunately it has had a significant impact upon his vision.  And now I have:  at least one ophthalmologist, probably another optometrist in addition to my regular one, two neurologists., at least one doctor that is a combination neurologist/ophthalmologist, and two 'regular' doctors.  Plus some new medications and eventually some new spectacles.  Attention Canadians:  Let no one talk about how long you wait for medical care; this winter we will tell you all about the tooth and the eye.

So the newsletter has been in gestation for quite some time which you might detect by the several subjects it covers.  Also, due to his malady, the Editor has done a perhaps less-than-stellar job.  Nonetheless, enjoy these vignettes from the Muse:

No Insults Intended

It has been rather hot here. (It is the humidity -dt)  Dan has refused to turn on the air conditioner.  It is okay by day but at night it is awful.  I was complaining to some of my lady friends and told them the only way I could stand it was to take off all my clothes and stand directly under the fan."Oh, that explains it," one said matter of factly.  All of our husbands refused to turn on the air conditioners and we had thought it was because they were cheap when really they were trying to get us to undress.  Silly men. (The fact is R is not fond of clothes and mostly goes without them here in the forest - she would not let me publish the photos of her feeding the fish.  At the condo she dresses rather loosely.  -dt)

I decided that the only way to get revenge was to buy a very long, dark, nightie of some heavy fabric sort of like A BURKA.  One of those thingies the Muslim women wear.   Surely I could buy one at Burkas-R-Us or something.  But the more I thought of it the more I decided this was a bad idea.  They really did not look very comfortable.

In fact I began to imagine a conversation.

Muslim man, "Take it off."

Muslim lady, "I'm not taking it off; that is a sin."

Muslim man, "But I'm your husband."

Muslim lady, "You just want to look at me and God will send you to 10000 hells.."

If you continue and elaborate this conversation many times you can see why Muslim men are grumpy and make bombs. (In no way should anyone think that Rebecca is besmirching or denigrating Muslims or Islam.  -dt)  (A lengthy comment is needed here.  Shortly after Mrs.T wrote the above a heat wave came our way.  The a/c has been running almost non-stop for almost two months.  She still does not wear many clothes.  -dt)

Hanging with the Horses

I have been horseback riding and my instructor told me there were a lot of ticks.  One evening as I was reading I noticed that I was scratching inside my ear.  "Oh, No!" I thought, "How did I get poison ivy in there?"  Then I felt a round flat thing.  Why it feels like the outside of popcorn, I thought. (Mrs. t does a lot of thinking.  -dt) I do eat a lot of popcorn.  When I tried to scrape it out with my fingernail it scooted away. EEE!! You guessed it.  I had a tick in my ear.  I put it on a piece of paper and tried to squish with my fingernail.  Ticks are not very squishable.  After two more efforts I thought about waking Dan for help.  Dan goes to bed earlier and is not happy if I wake him.  I went to the kitchen looking for something heavy and flat to squish the tick.  The first thing that came to hand was the handle of a large butcher knife.  SPLAT!!  That tick was history.  His remains were divided between the knife handle and the paper I had been carrying him on.  A paper towel with some soap and water cleaned off the knife and I carefully put the paper in a plastic baggie so that on the morrow I could take them to the emergency room. "WHY?" asked my husband. "What do you mean WHY?" I asked Dan.  I thought it was obvious.  I wanted to take the tick's remains to the Emergency Room so they could test them for diseases.  Dan finally convinced me that they would not test the remains unless and until I developed symptoms of something.  However I am keeping the remains baggie just in case.  I do think the laughter was inappropriate.  (This had nothing to do with her toothache later.  -dt)

Rebecca IS a Nervous Driver (dt)

Dan has recently had some problems with one eye, ultimately diagnosed as myasthenia gravis.  Therefore I have had to do more driving than normal.  This includes listening to him complain that I am either going too fast or too slow, should be in the other lane, etc.  In spite of all this I have not only avoided having an accident or getting arrested but I have also refrained from hitting him on the head with a 2x4.  Patience is a virtue.  I taught all three of the other members of my family to drive as best as I could and now they all three want to return the compliment.  My question is "What's the big hurry?"  Wherever you are going will be there whenever you get there.  SIGH.  The truth is I don't really like driving anyway.  If the police are willing to let me alone why don't you guys?

Horses Know How to Swim

But practically speaking they don't know that they know.  So we took three horses - Hazel, Lena, and Jewel - to introduce them to deep water.  The riders were Laura, Maddie, and Rebecca.  Horses tend to be cautious.  They were quite confident about going over shallow creeks.  But they did not like the looks of that big pond.  When you introduce a horse to something new the first thing they do is smell it.  The horses smelled the pond.  "Hmm smells like water," they thought.  They took a little lick.  "Tastes like water too, not too clean but I'm not picky," they decided.  Then the horses backed away to think it over.  The fact is that horses are not fast thinkers.  There are some who say that I, Rebecca, am not a fast thinker either but be that as it may I do get there in time. (No comment. -dt) Now I realized that there was no way I was going to drag Jewel - who is a very large horse (Belgium  -dt) - into the water if she did not want to go.  So she and I went back to the bank where she munched on grass while thinking it over.  Laura and Maddie spent a little while tugging on Hazel and Lena, who are much smaller, but in the end they did not go much further in the water either.

After a while I asked Jewel and she consented to go back in the water.  I need to mention here that Jewel has very large hooves.  Have you ever watched a first or second grader splashing through puddles making the biggest splashes she can?  Well Jewel discovered that she could splash with her big feet and was having a great time. However when she got about knee high she was not splashing so much.  Jewel decided to lie down and roll over in the water.  This cooled her off a bit and I think confused her.  She returned to the bank to eat and cogitate.  Hazel and Lena skipped both the hoof splashing - they have smaller hooves - and the rolling and contented themselves with tug of wars with Laura and Maddie.

After some more thought Jewel decided to go back into the water.  She started splashing her way happily through the shallow water.  Then Jewel continued walking in deeper until the water was just over her tummy.  She did not want to go in deeper.  She did not want to go back.  Hmmm(!)  I think she must have decided this would cool her off; it was a hot day and it helped keep the insects from biting her bottom half.  Jewel stood there gazing at me contentedly as if to say, "Yes this is cool; I'll rest here a while."

Jewel is the lead mare of Tori's herd.  That means she protects them and keeps them out of trouble as well as deciding where to go eat when they are out in the field.  I think that is why when Jewel went out into deeper water Lena decided it must be OK.  She stopped fighting with Maddie who had been trying to pull her further out and went out a little deeper where she leaned against Jewel for emotional support.  Maddie was quite pleased because now Lena was in water up to her chest since she is shorter than Jewel.

Maddie was playing with Lena who was watching her a little anxiously while leaning against Jewel. In fact Jewel, Lena, and I were all watching Maddie, who talked to Lena, patted Lena, splashed Lena, and then she hit the Jackpot!  Maddie stuck her head in the water near Lena and blew bubbles.  Lena bent over and peered cautiously at Maddie.  Then Lena stuck her nose in the water and splashed Maddie.  They did this back and forth for a few minutes much to the bemusement of Jewel and me.  Then Maddie called out, "Rebecca, try this!"

I looked down at the water.  It was quite muddy.  I looked up at three expectant faces.  Sigh!  I took hold of my nose and stuck my face in the water and blew bubbles at Jewel.  Jewel stuck her nose in the water and splashed at me.  And we were off.  I suppose the four of us blew bubbles and splashed at each other for about ten minutes.  It was, to be honest, great silly fun.  In the end I tired of it.

"It's time for us to go back," I told Jewel.  She heaved a great sigh but did not disagree.  On shore I rubbed Jewel dry and then went to change into dry clothes.  A little while later we were all on our way home.  A good time had been had by all.

Thanks TA for the horsing around photos:

https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/n9Q1bV

Well, the Casa is off on the scheduled road trip to the UK.  Maybe there will be some news from there.

Best wishes,

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

In the Arena

THE HORSE AND I

No, this is not a new musical by Rodgers and Hammerstein II.  But we will get to the story in a bit.  You will have noted that we have been quiet for a bit longer than usual.  Quite simple actually:  Most things have been rather routine around here.  Just day-to-day living and the puzzles being worked under the palapa.  At least until yesterday when we had a large storm, especially for this time of year; a couple of inches of rain at least and the high temperature was barely 70F.   We thought we were in Vancouver.

You probably think of Mrs.T as a woman of a certain age.  But you are wrong.  Sure she is grown up.  But I tell her she actually is about 12 years old, somewhere between a preteen and Doctor Doolittle who talks to plants as well as animals.  Here she relates a bit about her horse encounters at the equestrian school here in Mexico.  She fails to mention that I zip up her boots for her.  I have made it quite clear that we are not buying a horse anywhere.

I love horses.  I like the way they smell.  I like the way they farrup, the way horses sometimes talk in little snorts.  I like the way they look at me with their great wise eyes.  I like the way they stick out their tongues when they listen to me.  I do that too.  When I try to do something hard sometimes I stick out my tongue while I concentrate.  I like the way they lean against me when they are happy.  This is like a horse hug.  Sometimes horses nibble on me with their prehensile lips.  Not trying to bite, more claiming me like a cat who rubs against your ankles.  My person, she is mine.

Horses have their own personalities.  Some horses are happy horses.  Some horses are contented horses.  Some horses, alas, are mean.  There are nervous horses and calm horses.  There are horses who are kind of goofy.  And when I am in Mexico I ride Simon.

Simon - I could only describe him as a lazy old curmudgeon kind of horse.  All the beginning riders start with Simon.  You need not worry about Simon running away with you; it would take too much effort.  He would never bother to buck you off either.  In fact if Simon had his way he would do nothing at all, except possibly eat carrots.  Simon is quite fond of carrots.

When I started riding at the school one of the other riders told me, “When you start riding here you have to ride Simon.  His real name is Rocket!  If you can keep him from running away with you they will let you ride here. (!)”  This was a joke.

The first problem with riding Simon is getting on.  Simon is a rather tall horse.  They have no mounting blocks here.  Most riders stand on a little post, swing their left leg up to the stirrup (which is about at shoulder height) and lightly vault into the saddle.  NOT ME!!  I have also seen very small children grab the stirrup and climb up hand over hand like little monkeys until they are securely on top in the saddle.  I do not use this method either.  I stand on a chair.  I lift my left leg and shove it in the stirrup.  If I miss, one of the grooms takes my foot and gently puts it in the stirrup.  The plan is:  I stand in the stirrup grab ahold of the saddle - what there is of it, which is not much - and swing my other leg over and put it in the other stirrup.  Sometimes this works.  Sometimes my other leg refuses to cooperate and gets stuck on the top of the saddle.  Then the groom takes ahold of my leg and shoves it over.  It is at this point that Simon turns his head and smirks at me.  He leans forward slightly as if he plans to walk out from under me.  This is an idle threat as the other groom who is holding Simon’s head gives it an admonitory jerk.  I am up.

The next problem with riding Simon is getting him to move.  “VAS”, I say firmly and give his sides a little nudge with my legs.  Simon unenthusiastically ambles forward.  “VAS LARGO”, I say and give Simon and give him another little kick.  Simon continues his forward motion, just barely.  Marcella, the teacher, rushes over and gives me a short whip.  “Your FUENTE”, she says emphasizing the last word and glancing meaningfully at Simon.  Simon gives Marcella a dirty look.  He speeds up until he is going at what would be considered in most horses a very slow walk.

We head to the training ring.  Marcella tells us to ride around the ring a couple of times.  Simon wants to stop and think about this for a few minutes but I manage to get him going.  Keep in mind Marcella does not speak any English except for a few words I have taught her.  After circling at a walk a couple of times Marcella asks us for a trot.  “TROT!” I yell at Simon and give him a couple of firm kicks.  Taa-ro-ott, taa-ro-ott, Simon set a record with the slowest trot ever executed by a horse.  Then he tries to slow even more into a walk.  I give Simon a serious poke with the fuente.  Trot, trot, trot, trot Simon settles into a slow but respectable trot.  “UP, down; UP, down!”  Marcella encourages me to post, rising out of the saddle on every second step.  This is killing my thighs but I persevere and Simon continues his slow rounds for a while.  “Are you tired? Try sitting a trot for a while.”  I sit down in the saddle.  Simon immediately stops.  “Simon, TROT!” Marcella commands.  Resentfully, Simon begins a slow trot.  “How come the fat lady gets to rest and I don’t?” he must be thinking. 

After a while Marcella lets Simon walk while she tells me about trotting.  Marcella is explaining in Spanish.  From the knees up, I get that part, your thighs are supposed to do the work.  The next sentence eludes me.  It is something about feet.  Perhaps she is telling me not to stick my feet out so much.  At this point I should explain that in English style riding you are supposed to keep a tight rein.  In the north I ride Western so am used to a loose rein.  Simon has learned that if he casually pushes his nose out I will give him more rein and soon I have very little control.  Marcella is trying to explain about my feet when trotting.  Suddenly she stops.  She stares at Simon, clearly appalled.  “THAT HORSE IS ASLEEP!”  Marcella shouts.  Simon, oblivious, continues to wander slowly around the ring.  “Tight rein!” Marcella commands.  “Trot!”  Simon still oblivious does not respond.  “Hit him HARD!” Marcella knows I am prone to timid pokes.  Simon begins a brisk trot.  Up, down; Up, down - there is no more rest for anybody that lesson; we are both in disgrace.  “You got us into trouble today,” I complain to Simon as I lead him back.  “It’s all you fault for giving me such a loose rein,” he replies.  I am getting ready to give Simon his carrots when Marcella comes up.  “He should not get any he was a bad horse,” Marcella says.  We both look at her nervously.  “Oh go ahead,” Marcella relented.

The next week when we rode to the arena I noticed there were little flags sticking out of the top rail on two sides.  Simon pretended to be afraid of the flags.  Horses can be afraid of odd things.  For example Simon is afraid of cows.  But I am pretty sure he was faking it about the flags.  Marcella explained that this exercise was to test your balance and improve your control of your horse.  First you trot up to the flags and bend over and take one out of the fence.  Then you trot to the opposite fence and stick the flag in it.  I thought I understood and this might be fun.  Simon thought he understood and too much trotting was involved.  I trotted Simon over but he refused to go near the flags.  Five minutes later after much kicking and poking I maneuvered Simon close enough that I could reach over and grab a flag.  I looked up and was amazed to see Simon who had acted terrified of the flags reach over and calmly take one in his mouth and drop it on the ground.  Marcella who had missed this called out, “Oh, you dropped one.  Don’t worry; I will pick it up.  Take the one you have to the other fence.”  “It wasn’t me; it was the darn horse!” I replied.  This was one of the moments when Marcella had no idea what I said in English.  I trotted Simon over to the other fence.  Sure enough, as I reached over and stuck the flag in the hole, Simon reached out and grabbed another flag.  “Simon!” Marcella called.  Simon immediately dropped the flag and tried to look innocent.  So it goes.  But next year I am asking for a different horse.  (Good luck with that.  –dt)

Some pictures:  https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/888KwJ

Now here we need to give you a MAJOR NOTE.  Many if not most of you – especially you Canadians – may have received multiple copies of this newsletter.  Window 8 and 10, in its infinite wisdom, decided to eliminate ‘Groups’ from Hotmail in the latest version.  That meant I would need to pick each of you out individually to send this email.  So I needed to backtrack to Outlook and recreate the Groups to make mailing easier.  Well, many of you were fitted into more than one Group for this mailing; I hope to have things simplified by the next time.  Also, there are several of you who are receiving this for the first time.  Just drop me a note if you want to be deleted from our distribution list.  Finally, if you received this for different email addresses just let me know which one you prefer and I will try to fix that.  Thank you for your patience.