Standing on the Corner in Winslow Arizona......

Why? Why Arizona in July?  Why?

Overall:  The Third Circle of Hell

Only one thing could draw us to Arizona in the ghastly heat of summer.... the always heartwarming, often hysterical, Three Year Fowler Family Reunion. We were in Flagstaff which has some altitude so the temperature was maybe Circle One of Hell. The reunions have been going on since 1978 at various points across the country and involve the convening of between 60 and 80 happy (mostly) Fowlerites.  Festivities vary but generally include a wine tasting, softball, golf, hiking, beer drinking, water sports and children running in all directions about 16 hours a day.   Much fun.  A couple of pictures to illustrate.

Our niece's husband Devin provided music during the wine tasting.

The wine tasting always attracts an enthusiastic crowd.

The softball game is a ritual at every reunion...

with even the young ones participating, while we who are more mature cheer them on.

Cousin Liz with her husband Josh and another member of the family on the way.

A contingent of the family rode the train to the Grand Canyon.

Pictures cannot really capture the awe one first experiences seeing the canyon.

On the train our conductor pointed out an often overlooked feature, which is this 7 placed there by Mother Nature.

Kissing rocks balance against one another.

Even the trees show the harsh environment at the edge of the canyon.

An amazing number of people taking photographs with the canyon in the background risk stepping back a little too far, with disastrous consequences.

Day One:  Six (maybe Seventh)  Circle of  Hell.  108 degrees

We flew to Las Vegas because it was faster, cheaper and we could rendezvous with son Alex who was at the Mexican Consulate there obtaining his temporale visa (yeah!). We walked out of the terminal and nearly keeled over.  The high that day was 108 but that wasn't really the heat indexed reading which was probably 10 degrees higher.  How do people LIVE there?  We got to the hotel (with picked up Alex), cranked the air conditioning and did....nothing.  Well, after a while I got bored so decided to go to the pool.  Whoever invented the game Marco Polo should be drawn (or drowned) and quartered --several times. As a zillion kids splashed and shouted the explorer's name tsunami sized waves cascaded over me.  I gave up, took my toys and went home.  Children in Mexico do NOT play Marco Polo.  It is a civilized society.

The next morning (already in the 90s) I decided on a dip before hitting the road.  Well, what a surprise!  Over night millions, if not billions, of grasshoppers had descended on Las Vegas and most of them, it appeared ended up in the hotel pool.  I was going to swim, damn it.  I skimmed and skimmed and finally just jumped in and scooped them out with my bare hands and threw them on the pool skirt. My antics proved to be the breakfast amusement for the droves dining on the other side of the poolside window.  No one made eye contact with me after that.  Fine with me.  We fled to Flagstaff and the reunion to seek some relief.

So What Did You Do At the Reunion?

These reunions feature family bonding time but also subgroups mosey off to pursue varying interests.  Our nuclear family favors the strange and/or bizarre.  So we set off.  Justin (drove in from LA), Alex, Michael and I decided to take in the old Route 66.  Our first stop was The Apache Death Cave and Two Guns -- both Atlas Obscura finds.  First, the Apache Death Cave.  In 1878, Apache Raiders attacked a Navajo encampment and killed everybody except three young girls who became prisoners.  Navajos from other encampments sent out scouts to track down the Apaches.  They had no luck until they experienced a blast of hot air coming from an underground cave where the Apaches were holed up.  They returned in force and killed the two Apache watchmen. They then  started a fire at the cave's entrance to smoke them out.  The Apaches (really NOT nice) slit the throats of their horses and stacked them up near the entrance to thwart the Navajos but the smoke finally got them.  Only one Apache made it out and when the Navajos found out that the three girls had been killed they killed him too.  Well, we never did find the trail into the canyon that led to the Cave so we never got to see horse bones or anything.  But the Cave Canyon was right next to Two Guns so now on to Two Guns.

 Two Guns was a town that started as a trading post and lodging stop for pioneers heading West in the early 1900s.  The owners leased 10 acres of their land to a guy named Harry Miller who was "an eccentric man who claimed to be 100 per cent Apache and was known for his garish and unpleasant demeanor."   Somehow Miller got a hold of the trading post and turned it into what was probably Arizona's first tourist trap.  He established a zoo and enterprisingly began offering tours to the Apache Death Cave.  He grew his hair long and braided it and became more eccentric.  He sold the skulls of the Apaches as tourist trinkets.  Then, in cold blood, he murdered the owner of the land he leased.  Inexplicably he was acquitted of the murder but the Curse of Two Guns began.  I'll just list what happened in order:

1) Miller was mauled by the mountain lion in his zoo;
2) Miller was mauled by the mountain lion AGAIN;
3) He was bitten by a poisonous Gila Monster and his arm became seriously injured;
4) A huge fire gutted the trading post
5) Route 66 was rerouted and Two Guns became a Ghost Town.

The remains of the mountain lions' enclosure.

The remains of many buildings littered the area.

This abandoned gas station at Two Guns became graffiti artists' canvas.

Speaking of Tourist Traps....

I will say that tourist traps are alive and well in Arizona.  The Jack Rabbit Trading Post (also Route 66) almost defines tourist trap. While the Standing on the Corner statue (think Eagles) was just a stroke of luck which resulted in thousands of people driving to take a picture next to the statue in a town whose only claim to fame is being a major switching center for freight trains.  Now, to continue in the tourist trap vein....

The Jack Rabbit Trading Post featuring the glory days of Route 66 - The Mother Road.

Deirdre atop the Jack Rabbit.

La Posada Hotel in Winslow, AZ was a famous stop for train passengers. It was designed by Mary Elizabeth Jane Colter, the famous architect for the Fred Harvey Co.

Deirdre & Alex relaxing under the pergola at the hotel...

and Justin standin' on the corner.

One side trip some of our group took was to the Rock Art Canyon Ranch, which is in the middle of nowhere southeast of Winslow.

The owner of the ranch, Brantley Baird, fascinated the children (and adults) with his stories about the ranch and the many artifacts found on the ranch by himself and archeologists. Brantley is 80+ years old.

The displays of animals found on the ranch was fascinating, although some members of the group could do without the reminders of the snakes.

Authentic re-creations of the native American dwellings demonstrated their ability to survive and keep cool in this harsh environment.

The most spectacular part of the tour of the ranch was the astounding number of ancient petroglyphs on the rocks (thus the name of the ranch). This is just an example of a couple of areas.

Crystals, Vortexes and Fifth Level of Hell Heat

While sipping a glass of wine in our temperate Ajijic climate, we decided it would be a shame to go to Arizona and not go to the Red Rock Country around Sedona.  So, after the reunion we headed 45 minutes south and moved into our casita that had an amazing view of the Red Rocks.  Sedona is such a weird place in so many ways.  First there are at least 6 shops on each block selling crystals and various channeling enablers and a lot of onyx (I don't know what that is about).  So you would think these people are navel gazing, non-materialistic, spiritual types.  Well, then I don't know how you explain the ten boutiques, curio and coffee and jewelry shops on each block.  I guess the town was "quaint" once but now it is just another cheesy tourist trap.  I know I'm harsh but I'm just trying to save you the effort of trying to beat your way through a town that you don't want to be in.  Now, outside of town is a different story.  Michael took a million pictures that will explain visually the beauty upon which we feasted our eyes.  I think the best day we had in Sedona was when we found a creek that was blessedly unpopulated and threw ourselves into the cold, clear water while staring at the Red Rocks in all their glory..

This sign says it all.

Before we were able to check into our casita we rented, we visited Tlaquepaque (in Sedona). It was mainly high end artists shops, restaurants, retail stores, etc. However it also had some amazing sculptures.

Sedona is notable for its amazing colorful rock formations in addition to its vortices.

While we managed to visit all of the vortices during our stay, Deirdre felt the best vibes soaking her feet in this cool stream.

The Sedona sunsets did not disappoint with some very colorful displays.

So, Just One More Horror Story

We were getting to the end of the trip and both had, of course, come down with raging sinus infections -- it's more fun if you suffer together.  Having little energy and a complete aversion to any more heat, Michael came up with a plan.  We would drive 2 and 1/2 hours north in our air conditioned vehicle to where Horseshoe Bend occurs in the Colorado River.  I began my whining protests about drive times, heat, "it's just a BEND in a RIVER" but Michael prevailed by saying that he was sure it was a scenic overlook and I would not have to get out of the car into the heat and I could sleep in the car and maybe he'd even stop at a junk food restaurant if I pleaded.  I said OK. Drive...drive...drive...sleep..sleep... stop at McDonald's -- everything going according to plan.

We pull up to the window where you pay.  Wait!  You have to pay for a scenic overlook?  Oh, it's not a scenic overlook.  You have to hike a mile and a half to see the famed Horseshoe Bend.  The lady taking our money says:  "You're in luck.  It's only in the high 90s right now.  I hope you have hats, sunscreen and a lot of water."  Michael nods yes and pays while I shake my head no frantically. Michael assures me it will be fine and if I "tire" we can return to the car.  Right.  I know how that works.  I stumble up the first hill.  Michael has donated his hat to me at some point.  I fear I will faint.  I see a "shade station" to the right.  I look him in the eye and say:  "It's over Bucko.  I am sitting there.  If you perish I will not look for you.  Have a good time."  I'm sitting next to a woman who looks as peeved as I am.  I attempt to commiserate but she says. "Ooh, perdon, je ne comprend pas."  I launch into my pathetic French which is now liberally spiced with Spanish and some Spanglish words.  She squints her eyes trying to understand me but amazingly we do communicate.  So here is what is weird.  There were many, many, in fact beaucoup, Frenchies wandering the west.  And they were NOT from Quebec.  I am not exaggerating in saying that we saw, and heard, hundreds of them.  Here's what we figure.  Francois and Yvette are sitting sipping espresso, smoking Gallois and reading Le Monde when she says: "Eh, Francois, it says in the paper that Paris will be 107 degrees next week.  We might as well go to Arizona." And off thousands of them went.

In addition to the famous Horseshoe Bend...

we also visited Glen Canyon dam.

Ruins, Ruins, Ruins - We Saw a Bunch

Arizona  appears to have been the Times Square of the West.  There were a bunch of different indigenous tribes at a bunch of different times and it was difficult to keep them and their time frames all straight.  So, we'll just put in some photos and take a stab at who lived where and when and forgive us if we are totally wrong...thanks.

The lava fields in the Sunset Crater Volcano National Monument were spectacular...

and led us to the Wupatki National Monument. The buildings constructed by the native Americans date back to 1100 AD.

The builders took advantage of large existing rock formations...

and even built a ball court.

The eroded rocks in the area made for interesting photographic subjects.

The Tuzigoot National Monument above the Verde River preserves a 2 -3 story pueblo which once had 110 rooms.

Back to Shangri-la

We deplaned in Guadalajara and breathed deeply.  Our lungs did not seer, our eyes did not squint, our bodies did not sweat disgustingly.  We were home to our usual 78 degrees and low humidity.  Praise Allah!  We had a great time seeing everyone and sharing our sinus infections but we were truly thrilled to be back home.  For about a month.  More on that soon.

I leave you with a photo of the Hummingbird Clearwing moth (Hemaris Thysbe) captured on our trip. Note the size of the proboscis to drink the nectar from the flowers.

Hacienda Hunting and Other Matters of Import

Poor, Poor Deirdre

Yes, yes I know.  It's been a long time since the last blog.  But there is a reason.  I broke my arm which impacted my already fairly horrible typing ability.  I won't bore you with the details (everyone falls in Ajijic) but will say that having your arm in a sling for six weeks is very inconvenient.  I'm free at last and the only remaining downside is my PT which is both boring and painful.  However, while we are on the health front let me tell you about the explosion of medical facilities in Ajijic.

When we moved here there was only the Ajijic Clinic which was not an attractive health provider option. Really not.  Absolutely not.  Basically everyone went into Guadalajara which has world class hospitals etc.  Well, as more and more geriatrics stream into Lakeside the ever rapacious health care industry has recognized market potential and we have moved from one quasi clinic (recently renamed as a hospital) to the construction of three additional hospitals.  While we may be old and decrepit a total of four hospitals for a population of gringos of 20-30,000 seems a bit excessive.  Most Mexicans use the national health system while these new hospitals are all private.

The first new hospital to open was San Antonio Hospital and it was to its Emergency Room that I went when, after sleeping on the broken arm for a night, I came to the inescapable conclusion that I had done something REALLY bad to it.  We had just been to an opening celebration of the hospital so we kind of had the gist going in.  The hospital has MRI, CTI, all kinds of swanky X-ray and sonogram and whatever machines.   It has three operating theaters including one exclusively for ophthalmology-- old people get lots of cataracts.  But it is also very Mexico.  As we were taking the tour we went through a nicely appointed patient room to an adjoining patio.  This, we were informed, would be the place for patients and family to visit and relax and SMOKE!  Being gringos we all looked at each other askance, shrugged our shoulders and moved on hoping to find an in-house tequila bar.

An emergency room bed at the new hospital.

The MRI machine, which has still not been set up over two months later.  But they say 2 more weeks.

A typical room at the hospital.

One of the operating rooms...

and another operating room dedicated to opthalmologic surgery only (what with all the cataract surgeries for us people of a certain age).

OK, so in conclusion, I went to the ER, saw the doc, got x-rays, saw the orthopedic specialist, got fitted out with an elaborate sling thing and the whole bill was about $150 -- for everything. Amazing.
The two other hospitals will be coming on line in the next few months.  I imagine competition will be fierce.

Hacienda Hunting

One of the great parts of living here is that you can almost always find something interesting/unique/bizarre to do.  I was fascinated by a guy who has unearthed over a hundred haciendas in Jalisco (our state) in varying states of disrepair.  Jim (of Jim and Carols Mexican Adventure blog) knows a lot about Mexican history and hacienda life and when the chance came for Michael and I to join the crew on a hunt we were all in.  Doing it with a broken arm and Michael's notoriously poor knees showed a certain lack of judgement but we survived.

Our first stop was at a hacienda where the chapel was still intact and still in use.  Every hacienda had its own chapel and in many cases it is the only building to have been maintained because when the hacienda system ended the town would take control of the chapel.  Well, we were kind of lurking around and some older Mexican women were sweeping the plaza.  Jim inquired about the chapel and hacienda and the women became very animated and said they would take us to the priest who was having breakfast at his uncle' house and he would explain everything.  Every single Mexican person we asked about the haciendas was as open, friendly and helpful as could be.  So we (like 8 of us) tramp over to the uncles house and are ushered in.  Sure enough, the priest is eating his breakfast and is completely unfazed by having 8 unknown gringos milling about in the dining room.  He says he will get dressed and come over to the church and hold forth on the hacienda.

Now this is not your garden variety priest.  First, he is young and quite handsome.  Second, he shows up wearing a black (expensive) cowboy hat, black western shirt with studs, belt with a buckle the size of Dallas, tight jeans and black (expensive) boots.  Hmmm.  He's very gracious and shows us around the entire hacienda -- or what used to be the hacienda.  Now, part of it is his living quarters but the stables, workshops and storage houses have all been repurposed into village housing. His "office" was most interesting and done out as a barn with hay stacks to sit on, paper cut outs hanging from the ceiling, a bar with candy and cookies, a barrel with popcorn and a door which led to a dance floor. We sensed that this was not an everyday parish.

To find former haciendas, first look for the church bells and the church, because each hacienda had its own church on the hacienda grounds.

The clocks on this clock tower couldn't agree on the time.

The interior of the church...

and the next series of photos are of the priest's "office".

The priest showing us a hidden cellar in his "office".

From tiny tazas to bigger tazas, this wall in the priest's house has them all...

along with a display of the good china.

This ornate piece of pottery was for water with the "tazas" attached.

These next two photos show the priest in his dining room.

During the hacienda period, each hacienda had to function as a completely self sufficient entity.  Most had mills, and many had forges and coopers.  The majority of haciendas were engaged in agriculture (corn, sugar cane, hemp), cattle or mining.  But in each case they had to produce all the food and products that they needed in-house with very occasional trips to a city.

We visited two more haciendas that day.The second most interesting one was one we didn't even know existed.  While trying to find one hacienda in the town, the GPS took us to another -- which was strange since it was only a ruin.  We finally sorted out that it was the same hacienda in that both properties were owned by one family.  The one we found was smaller than the other and adjacent to a rail line so had probably been an offshoot of the first used to hold animals or products coming from or to market.  It was not that unusual for hacienda owners to possess more than one hacienda  --which didn't endear them to the common folk.  If you want to read a really terrific book (novel) that combines a description of hacienda life with Mexican mysticism pick up The Murmur of Bees by Sofia Segovia.

Some haciendas have been long abandoned and allowed to slowly deteriorate.

However this mural has somehow managed to remain largely intact.

Some parts of the old hacienda seem to defy gravity.

This statue was inside of Rangers BBQ, where we stopped for lunch.

The owner had spent a considerable amount of time in Texas & served real Texas BBQ.

The most interesting part of the third hacienda was the church...

with its ornately flowered tribute to the Virgin of Guadalupe.

We were not only given a tour of the church, ...

but also the sacristy where we were shown these antique monstrances.

One of the monstrances was dated 1910, the year of the Mexican Revolution.

Fire On The Mountain

May and early June are the driest of the dry months in Ajijic.  The mountains are brown and combustible and almost everything is covered with a layer of dust.  It is not our most attractive time of year.  Every year there are fires before the start of rainy season in Mid June and, in typical Mexican fashion, they are allowed to burn out unless they threaten people, buildings or livestock. We've never had a fire close to us-- before.  For several days we had been monitoring the fires (multiple) that were nestled between the two sets of mountains in back of our village.  We bought water and supplies for the fire fighters and hoped for the best.  In Mexico, firefighting is not left to the professionals because there aren't enough professionals.  As the fire began to encroach on the village the word went out and hundreds of villagers went up the mountains dragging sand, shovels etc.  Just getting up these mountains is an act of courage -- particularly in the dark.

So, one night Michael and I were watching TV when our buzzer rang.  Michael went to the door and a neighbor yelled that the fire had crested the mountain and was headed towards us.  We gathered the passports, documents etc and were about to leave when our son Alex (who lives about a mile away) called to say that it looked like the villagers had beaten it back.  Our gardener had been up fighting the fire and had badly gashed his hand on razor wire.  He apologized that he wasn't fully functional.  We thanked him for working the fire.  There is no such thing as "not my job" here.  Refreshing.

The helicopter with its bucket flying to the lake to get water.

Where are the Maori?

We read, much to our amazement,  that a contingent of Maori were coming to town.  It was quite unclear WHY Maori were venturing from New Zealand to Ajijic but we have learned to go with the flow here.  It was alleged that we would be treated to a concert by the Maori on the Malecon on Sunday.  Well, having grown fond of the Maori during our time in NZ, we hustled ourselves right down there to partake of this stunning cross cultural event.

Well, there were no Maoris.  At least none that we could identify.  There were many vaguely, and overtly, hippy Mexicans who played lovely songs which all revolved around our/their love for and reverence for the Lake.  Maybe the Maoris came to worship the Lake?

 We'll never know because no one even MENTIONED the Maoris.  Not a word.   However, it was a lovely afternoon and the music was good.  The only distraction was the helicopter that kept swooping down over us to scoop water to pour on the infernos taking place behind us in the mountains. (See above entry)  But, no worries (oh, that's Aussie talk not New Zealandish).

Even though we did not see any Maoris, we did get free entertainment.

We also got a glimpse of some interesting characters.

A delightful way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

We also saw some individuals in indigenous dress strolling along the malecon...

and this beautiful tree in full bloom.

So.  That's it for now.  After a quiet (for us) first half of the year things start to rev up now.  Off to Queretaro next weekend to look at kayaks and enjoy the town.  And then  we'll be off to Flagstaff and Sedona in a couple of weeks, on to  Hawaii and Japan in Sept/Oct and to the Copper Canyon in Northern Mexico in November.  So, much grist for the blog mill we hope.   Have a great summer.  Take care.

We thought we would leave you with two pictures of our beautiful green mountains, now that "rainy" season has arrived.

While Deirdre was in the pool, this dragonfly decided to perch on one of our plants near our dragonfly light on the wall.

Deirdre called to me and the dragonfly hung around to pose for his picture while I got my camera.