MICHAEL GOES TO CHESTERFIELD

I know you are asking where is Chesterfield and why would Michael want to go there and leave Deirdre in Ajijic. Well Michael at the tender young age of 13 thought he had a vocation to become a priest. Not just any priest. He decided to become a Maryknoll missionary (obviously a desire to travel to foreign lands even back then). Puberty hit at 14 and Michael decided maybe he did not want to be celibate for the rest of his life (much to Deirdre's later relief). After the first quarter of my sophomore year I made the fateful decision to leave the seminary.

However the bonds formed at that young age have somehow extended over the years and due to the efforts of some of my classmates, there have been several reunions at Chesterfield (and, with the advent of COVID, reunions over Zoom). The organizers finally decided to have an in-person reunion again in Chesterfield, MO (the former site of Maryknoll Junior Seminary). One interesting side note is that none of the members of our original freshman class went on to become priests.

The site is now Logan University, a Chiropractic College. Logan University acquired the 112 acres from the Maryknoll order in 1973 for the grand sum of $1.8 million. Quite a bargain considering the growth of Chesterfield. In 1963 Chesterfield consisted of mostly farmland and had a population of 450. According to the 2020 census Chesterfield now has a population of 49,999. It is a thriving bedroom community of St. Louis with very upscale housing, a shopping mall, etc.

The folks at Logan University were kind enough to give us the grand tour of what was formerly the seminary. All of the buildings which we inhabited in 1963 have been repurposed, but the Tower (minus the cross at the top) is still there. More buildings have been added to accommodate the needs of Logan University and its students. What was formerly the Chapel where we attended daily Mass is now the library of the University (complete with the original stained glass windows).

Due to the difficulty of flying from Guadalajara to St. Louis, I arrived Thursday afternoon and had most of Friday to explore St. Louis. I decided to go to Gateway National Park and take one of the little pods to the top of the Gateway Arch (one that Deirdre never would have entered due to phobia #4 - claustrophobia), followed by a riverboat cruise on the Mississippi River. I also tried to tour the original St. Louis Basilica, but it was closed for a private event.

The old St. Louis Courthouse completed in 1828 is now occupied by the National Park Service and is part of the Archway National Park.

The view from the top of the Arch looked down on the Mississippi River with these barges passing by, one empty and one filled with coal.

The other side offered birds eye views of St. Louis Cardinals Busch Stadium...

the old St. Louis Courthouse...

and the original St. Louis Basilica.

The shadow cast by the Arch caught my eye as I was looking down on the area around the Gateway National Arch Park.

As I was walking around I was intrigued by the different ways the Arch presented itself.

This was a clear indication of how low the Mississippi River was as we cruised up the river. The markers allow river traffic to show the clearance going under the bridge. 

This bridge reminded me of the Zakim bridge in Boston.

This building of the Union Electric Light and Power was built in 1904 as a generating station...

and, as can be seen in this photo, was massive.

Looking back from the riverboat toward the Arch and the old Courthouse.

The different way this Arch presented itself depending on where you were standing was really intriguing.

The original St. Louis Basilica.

That evening one of our former classmates (along with his wife) hosted a dinner for us at their house in St. Louis. 

Rick (our host) & Bill chat while the rest go for the food.

Mike & Chris loading up their plates.

The temperature was so delightful we were able to enjoy the outdoor patio as we ate & caught up with what everyone had been up to lately.

The next day we all gathered at Logan University for a tour of what was our former campus. The Tower was still there, although with a wall added around the Tower by Logan University to protect it. On the plaque recognizing those who had donated to the wall, some or our party recognized the name of former classmates from Maryknoll Junior Seminary. Although many of the buildings have been transformed, the tour still brought back memories of our time here when we all much, much younger.

The Tower no longer had its cross at the top, but the bells in the Tower still sound at 9, 12, 3 & 6 according to our Logan U. guide.

Sierra, the Logan U photographer, was kind enough to take this photo of our reunion group.

This was one of the new buildings Logan U added.

Cynthia of Logan U. was our guide for the day.

The lobby of the Purser Center, the new building above, was quite nice...

but the state of the art auditorium was even more so. We were there during Future Leopard 

Weekend, when the campus was showcased for new applicants or potential applicants to Logan U.

The former Chapel when we attended is now the Library (note the lack of books but the many computers).

The stained glass windows in the former Chapel were retained in the now Library.

The former sacristy now houses spines, skeletons, skulls, etc. related to chiropractic studies.

Leaving the sacristy, Cynthia leads us back into the Library.

When we were students these were the handball courts where we used to play. They have obviously been repurposed and are no longer used for handball.

On Sunday some of us met up for brunch at Sassafras Restaurant & Cafe, which is located at the entrance to the Missouri Botanical Gardens. When I arrived I noticed all of these costumed children running around. Families were encouraged to bring their children in their Halloween costumes for a special event at the Gardens. After brunch we toured the gardens before wishing everyone a fond farewell until next time.

One of the costumed children at the Gardens.

The skeleton on the spider in the garden with the pumpkins below was part of the Halloween decorations.

There are 79 acres of gardens, but we spent most of our time strolling through the 14 acre Japanese garden.

We came across a young girl feeding the ducks & geese, while the fish with open mouths waited for anything to drop their way.

The size of the carp were most impressive, as can be seen when compared to the size of the duck.

No Japanese garden would be complete without the Zen garden.

The bridge over the water is a constant theme in Japanese gardens...

although this bridge was blocked so we could not walk across. 

Flowing water with a waterfall is also a common theme.

As we left this sculpture caught my eye.

The next day I was scheduled to fly out from St. Louis to DFW and then catch a connecting flight to Guadalajara. On my return I experienced all of the wonderful "joys" of air travel. Before I checked out of my hotel, I received a notice from American Airlines that my flight from St. Louis to DFW was delayed. Realizing I would miss my connection at DFW to Guadalajara, I contacted American Airlines. After finally getting a customer service agent and going through the many prompts from the auto-attendant, I let them know I wanted to rebook on another airline and get a refund for the St. Louis to DFW portion of my flight. After much back & forth between the customer service agent and her supervisor, I was told this would be possible. (Although the refund I finally received was a pittance.)

 I managed to find a flight from St. Louis to Love Field in Dallas on Southwest Airlines that would allow me to get to DFW in time to make my connection. Fortunately I have a very understanding sister & brother-in-law in Dallas. They picked me up at Love Field and we had enough time to have dinner together before they dropped me off at DFW. 

While waiting for my flight, I first received a notice it would be delayed from 8:53 PM to 11:20 PM and the gate had changed. I schlepped down to the new gate and by the time I arrived at the new gate I received three quick notices. The flight was delayed until 3 AM, then 6 AM and finally 8 AM. 

I called my sister and she and her husband drove back out to DFW to pick me up so I would not have to sleep in the airport overnight. When I arrived at my sister's house I received another notice from American offering to put me up at one of three motels which were all at least ten miles away from the airport and none of which offered shuttle service to or from the airport. My beloved sister and her husband got up at 4:30 AM the next morning to take me back to DFW.

When I finally arrived back in Guadalajara, Deirdre asked me if the trip had been worth it given the difficulties of getting back home. I unequivocally answered yes. It was fantastic to be able to reconnect with my classmates, some of whom I had not seen since leaving the seminary almost sixty years ago.

Fabulous Fiji...But First...Getting there is Half the Fun?

This trip grew like topsy.  It started out as a brief jaunt to see Justin in LA and to attend a family wedding.  Then we added a visit to friends who moved to Ensenada.  Then, (why not) we added Fiji.  So...we are off again.

 First Stop:  Ensenada

Our good friends Wes and Ron traded one piece of paradise for another by moving from Lake Chapala to Ensenada and they were anxious to show us their new digs.  So we started our trip by flying into Tijuana.  All was smooth until we landed and 4 Guardia National blokes entered the plane, stared with laser intensity at the plane's denizens and then left.  No explanation was given.  Then we deplaned...very, very slowly. Ten at a time.  Why?  Why?  Because at the foot of the stairs our same Guardia National blokes were detaining every man under 50 and rigorously searching them and their luggage.  Why? Why?  You never get an explanation in Mexico so you just shrug, be glad it isn't you and move on.  

We were told it was a simple luxury bus ride from Tijuana to Ensenada.  After much dialogue in my broken Spanish we hopped in a cab and drove (and drove) to the ABC bus station in downtown Tijuana.  Only to discover that we were at the wrong station and that there was a station RIGHT AT the airport.  Due to my ability to look truly pathetic and confused the station master took pity on us and we boarded a bus which did, indeed, get us to Ensenada.  This part of our journey was emblematic of the travel obstacles we would encounter as we moved forward on the trip.

Ensenada is an attractive city of approximately 350,000 people right on the  Pacific Ocean.  It is booming for a number of reasons but the most interesting one has to do with water.  Ensenada is about to bring online a desalinization plant.  This increased capability for providing fresh water will allow the city to double in size without suffering from the type of water scarcity that most of the West Coast is and will endure. So, if Ensenada can do it, why can't San Diego?  Or LA?  What does California need more -- a proposed train linking several cities which never seems to get built and only increases exponentially in cost or water?  I leave you to ponder that one.

Wes and Ron's new house is jaw dropping.  It is perched above the Ocean with amazing views in all directions. For obscure, Mexican reasons the house stood, almost finished but unoccupied, for fourteen years before Wes and Ron found it.  With all the infrastructure in place (plumbing, electrical etc.) the guys saw an opportunity to make it their own without having to build from the foundation up.  And the results are impressive as Michael's photos will show.

We spent three days with them touring their area (Bufadora), venturing into the Guadalupe Wine Country (marvelous lunch at a vineyard) and catching up on events since their move.  They dropped us at the ABC bus station one morning and off we went on yet another leg of the journey.

Bluefin tuna pen aquaculture visible from their patio.

Wes lounging on their patio...

and more of the patio & house. The exterior walls have not been painted yet.

Going to the blowhole in La Bufadora, you must run the gauntlet of shops & souvenir stands.

It is well worth it though to see the blowhole in action.

The view of the coastal rocks and the Pacific was equally magnificent.

This and the dish below were not only very tasty, but were also works of art in their presentation at the restaurant in the Guadalupe Valley (Malva).

Cars, Buses, Taxis, Feet, Trams and Trains

We started our next trek in Wes and Ron's car to go to the ABC bus station.  Two hours on the bus and we were at the airport.  While you can walk across the CBX land bridge to the U.S. if you have just flown in that day, if you've been in Mexico more than 24 hours you are out of luck.  So, into a cab we went for a drive to where you cross the border by foot.  We have Global Entry (worth its weight in gold) so we could jump all the lines and were over the border within a half an hour.  Right over the border we picked up the San Diego tram ($2.50 each) and rode it to the end of the line -- which was right in front of the Santa Fe Depot train station.  From there onto the Surfliner Train (beautiful ride along the coast) to Union Station in LA.  Justin, elder son, met us at the station and via car we arrived at his condo in Studio City.  Voila!  Mind you, this was carrying all the luggage we would need for our three week trip.  A tad exhausting.

Finally Fiji

After a few days catching up with Justin and eating our way through LA we were off to Fiji -- a mere 10 1/2 hour flight. What is worse than a 10+ hour flight?  A 10+ hour flight in the middle seat next to The Terror from Tonga.   Pacific Islanders are very large people -- very, very large in many cases.  Now, I am not into body shaming unless that body has draped itself over its seat and well into my seat. Such was the case with the Terror.  But it wasn't just body overlap.  She had managed to bring onto the plane a vast assortment of things that clearly exceeded any airline limit. Some were strewn under the seat in front of her (OK), some were strewn under the seat in front of me (not OK) some on the floor between us (where IS that flight attendant who loves to chastise errant passengers?) and then she sheds her shoes and heaps them on top of everything on the floor. I stare in mute horror as I contemplate my life for the next 10+ hours. And then the wrestling begins. It is well known that the person unfortunate enough to be in the middle seat gets the arm rest.  It just is a given.  Not with the Terror. A quick elbow jab on her part renders my elbow and upper arm numb as she quickly seizes the advantage and dislodges me.  I tried to fight back...I really did.  About two hours and one sleeping pill into the flight I just gave up, crumpled myself into a defensive fetal position and hoped that she would have miraculously disappeared when I awakened.  Didn't happen.

Our driver met us at the airport at 5:45 AM Someday.  I started just using Someday as a generic day because I find crossing the international date line so confusing that it is just too much trouble to hone in on what actual day it is.  The date is kind of important but honestly, when you're on vacation, does knowing the day of the week justify torturing your brain with specifics?  No.  As we drove through the Fijian countryside we began to notice certain things. "Look how the mountains look like our mountains at home. I guess it's because it's volcanic like our area,"  I said.  A minute later. "Hey, all these plants look just like ours... really, all of them," said Michael.  "And the houses, lots of concrete with rebar sticking out of not yet existing second stories," I added.  Silence. "Did we just fly 8.000+ miles to land somewhere that looks like where we just came from....Looks that way." But we would soon find out that Fiji differed from our adopted home in many significant ways.

The British have a term for the type of vacation we signed up for.  They call it "the fly and flop" in that you fly to some beachy spot, flop by the pool or ocean and call it a day.  Our resort certainly fit the bill for that description.  It was: a) beautiful -- it had 7 vast pools and raked sand beaches; b) totally self contained (a little inhibiting) and c) mindless -- they thought of everything-- and charged you for it.  In summary, it is nothing like the trips we usually take but it pays to mix things up a bit.  We took the trip because it was so staggeringly inexpensive (Fiji WANTS post covid business) that I just couldn't resist.

We can only lounge poolside for so long -- Deirdre for 4 hours, Michael for 35 minutes or until his first layer of skin crackles and falls off (40 minutes).  Thus, we needed to find some activities that were beyond the pool.  We took a trip on a large sailboat to a private island (not sure how I feel about that) which was really beautiful.  We snorkeled (medium to good) and kayaked (well, he paddled) and the water was magnificent.  Saw some baby black tipped reef sharks -- wondered where Mom and Dad were but nothing happened.  So, that was a good day all in all.

Harvesting the coconut. Later when we were in the Fijian village we learned not only how to husk the coconut but also how to crack the coconut based on the orientation of the face".

Sitting on our back patio we were entertained by this informal futbol game.

We were also entertained by this kite surfer one day.

One of the black tipped reef sharks we encountered...

and a close up showing the black tip on its dorsal fin.

The view from our private cabana...

and a picture of the Gate 1 travel group. We got special treatment by our guide on the boat and on the island as well.

Another Fijian Island onn on our way back to our island. The volcanic nature of the islands is evident from this picture.

The Fijians are trying to protect and expand their mangroves to protect the shoreline from erosion.

Back at the resort we encountered this ice cream eating contest designed by the staff of the resort to keep the children occupied.

Some ended up with as much ice cream on their face as in their stomach.

Another day we signed onto a longer adventure -- like 13 hours or so.  But only about 5 hours actually involved doing anything since we drove 4 hours in each direction.  That was fine though because we saw a lot of the interior of the island (well, kind of the fringe since the roads tend to hug the coast).  Once there, we boarded long boats to travel up river to the sight of an amazing waterfall. Shades of David Rockefeller in Papua New Guinea.  You all  know how that ended.  We had to disembark on a rather precarious landing and as our boat idled while the boat ahead of us unloaded I said to Michael, "By God, for once we are not the oldest people on an adventure."  Ahead of us was a couple definitely more decrepit than us.  I'm actually not sure if this adventure was a good idea for them since Jack (we all became fast friends) had to be piggybacked off the long boat. He is 87 and his wife is 75. I mean there comes a time.....

Anyway, it was about a half mile hike to the waterfall over somewhat slippery rocks and uneven terrain. Somehow Jack and his wife (they were celebrating their 50th anniversary) made it to the falls and with steadying hands from the group had a delightful wade in the water.  Michael's pictures should give you an idea.  Going back down river we experienced riding the bamboo rafts that are/were the principal mode of transportation for folks living around there.  The most challenging part of bamboo rafting is getting on the raft -- the rest is a piece of cake.

We gathered in this one village center to get our PFDs (personal flotation devices) aka life jackets prior to boarding the boats.

The long boats were narrow and designed for the rapids,....

which at one point forced us to leave the boat (except for one person) to walk around the rapids.

There were other rapids which we were able to just stay in the boat and enjoy the ride.

This fantastic waterfall was our ultimate destination,

which Deirdre enjoyed with its very cool water.

The force of the waves created by the waterfall made swimming up to the waterfall very difficult.

Jack, his wife & Nem at the waterfall pool.

There were other smaller waterfalls created as the water flowed to the river.

Nem commanding our bamboo raft.

The lush vegetation of the rain forest.

Back in the village we were greeted by this villager blowing on a conch shell...

this villager beating the log drum and

this Fijian warrior guarding the "lovo" (the original pit barbecue).

Opening up the lovo to put the cooked contents in the palm frond basket. We later had a demonstration of making a palm frond basket (in a matter of minutes), which was capable of supporting the weight of a 240 lb. man.

The village head's chair.

The ceiling was all hand painted using stencils on the mats, which are then attached to the ceiling.

We go to witness a kava (yaqona in Fijian) ceremony.

In the ceremony one of our lucky number had the opportunity to partake of the kava (most passed up this bitter brew).

Nem led the villagers in song...

and then the warriors performed a Fijian war dance, followed by the women singing a Fijian song which you can listen to by clicking on the link below.

This link will take you to a video recorded at Koromakalli Village: https://youtu.be/qJhhvMSduZU

Speaking of David Rockefeller

Returning to the Village we got the full dose of local culture education.  Fierce warriors dancing, women singing, kava drinking, basket weaving -- you get the idea.  Through it all, Nem, our guide kept making jokes and allusions to the "cannibals lurking around the corner" etc.  Michael and I discussed when back at the hotel the veracity of the cannibal stories.  Well, they weren't "stories".  Yep, another trip where we learn of prior cannibalism.  Now we have been to so many countries where this appears a common vice that we now categorize the motivation of the cannibals to help us bracket them in terms of our disdain and /or horror.  We are least critical of those who eat others because they are truly starving and it's the only solution; next come the ones who devour their enemies because they want to transfer the bravery and spirit of the enemy into their own souls; and least laudable those who munch out of sheer revenge.  Unfortunately, it turns out that the Fijians fell into bucket three.  Oh well. 

Our final trip out of the calm bosom of our resort was to the Garden of the Sleeping Giant.  The orchid garden was established in 1977 by Raymond Burr (Ironsides, Perry Mason) to house his own collection of orchids.  Since then, the collection has expanded and the entire Garden is filled with a wide range of tropical plants.  We were told that it is now owned by the Kroc (McDonald's) Foundation but I can't find anything to verify that. It would be an ounce of redemption for the Krocs after their unleashing fast food on the entire globe. The garden was great but the fruit punch they gave us was PHENOMENAL.  I have never, ever raved about fruit punch but....well, now I have.

Enjoy the views of the orchids in the garden, as well as the other flora.

As we wandered through the garden we ran into this "tree hugger"...

this frog by the pond...

and this fruit that even a native Fijian could not identify. A prize to any of our blog readers who can identify the name of the fruit.

Fijian Folk - BULA!

It is not fair to generalize about a people but I say it's OK if you say nice things...or offer disclaimers. First of all, no matter where you go or what the situation is someone in Fiji will be yelling BULA! at you.  This seems to mean hello, good day, goodby, I love you or anything else.  Caught unawares it can make you jump.  Except for the heartiness of their bulaing, the Fijians are very gentle and somewhat quiet people.  They are very tranquil and prefer it if you are also.  Nem, our guide, told us that the Fijians are so calm and slow moving that the British gave up trying to make them work the cotton fields and brought in Indians as indentured field workers.  The Fijians considered this a coup on their part.

Fijians speak English -- well, most do.  They are taught it in school.  It is a highly accented English (not British) and that, combined with their quiet voices, can result in some difficulty in communicating.  Another driver we had pointed out a school as we drove.  "Oh, that is the school for the Japanese students," he said.  "Oh, what are they here to study?" we asked.  "English", he replied. "Who teaches them?" Michael asked.  "Oh, we Fijians," he answered.  Michael and I looked at each other.  The concept of Fijians teaching highly accented English (it sounds Caribbean) to Japanese students seems fraught with problems.  I would love to hear a graduate.

Our open air lobby at the resort.

Back to L.A. and a Lovely Wedding

The flight back was SOOO much better.  I had a whole seat to myself and an empty middle seat!  It was almost like business class...or what it was like to fly 30 years ago...except you can't smoke now, or drink to excess, or have a decent meal.  But hey, it was much better.  We spent a couple of days with Justin in LA.  Lately, due to the spread of pestilence and improved serums, we have taken the opportunity to get vaccinations when visiting Justin.  Before Fiji we got the 5th (can you believe it?) Covid shot and a flu shot On the return we got the first (new, improved) shingles shot and Michael doubled up by getting the grown up TDAP shot.  Michael has virtually no reaction to these shots.  I go into immediate decline featuring immense fatigue, fever, chills and grumpiness which lasts between 24 and 36 hours.  Medical people tell me that it is my robust immune system responding emphatically to the invading whatevers.  I don't bother to ask why, if I have this amazing immune system, I have to have these stupid shots.  Just be quiet and settle down Deirdre.

So, upon my recovery we were off to San Diego for the wedding.  We had received news while in Fiji that the Surfliner train was having problems because a section of track had eroded.  Due to this we would train to Irvine, detrain and bus to Oceanside, retrain and continue on to San Diego. On top of this, while hauling our luggage to the bus we got stuck in an elevator (don't ask why we were on an elevator) which just made the trip more pleasurable.  But it was all worthwhile.  What a beautiful wedding.  The setting was a field overlooking the Pacific in La Jolla and the reception followed in a mansion in the same town. David and his bride Michelle were everything you'd want in a bride and groom and it gave us a chance to see most of Michael's family twice within 3 months.  It is quite amazing how much babies grow in three months-- just an aside.  So, the trip was complete.  With only minor travel struggles we made it back to Ajijic by mid October.  Just in time to gear up for Day of the Dead.  More on that later.....

The father escorts Michelle, the bride.

David reading his vows to Michelle...

and the "kiss" after the officiant pronounces them "man & wife".

The married couple leaving to attend the reception.

Our niece Carrie & her husband Devin playing at the reception as the guests entered.

The next day the two extended families gathered for a group photo. At this point the elders down below were slowly gathering for the photo.

Deirdre had never been to Old Town in San Diego so we took some time out and encountered these donkeys.

Showing their Mexican heritage, Old Town was already decorated for Dia de Los Muertos.

The Cosmopolitan has watched San Diego unfold around it for nearly 200 years. From a state-of-the-art adobe home built in 1827 by a young, revolutionary Don Juan Bandini to a modern two-story hotel, restaurant and stagecoach office in 1869 to an olive cannery in 1900 and a popular Mexican restaurant in the latter half of the 20th century, the Cosmopolitan has seen San Diego grow. Now, returned to its 1870s glory, it has a story to tell.