Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: I Am a Wuss

From motel to campground

I spent two nights in a motel in Alamogordo, then hied off to Oliver Lee Memorial State Park to camp until I found an apartment. Do the math: $10 per night at the park versus $50 per night at the motel.



Site selection

Site selection. Oh, so many variables that one must weigh: 

• View from site
• Proximity to toilet - not too far and not too close
• Proximity to water and, less important, trash containers
• Shade
• Level ground for tent
• Site prettiness
• Site privacy
• Proximity to neighboring campers

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

I did a few turns around the campground loops before settling on a site with a magnificent view of the valley below the park's highlands, in addition to the view of the mountains on the opposite side of the valley. My chosen site faces west, for a front row seat to sunset theater.

An important factor in the Oliver Lee campground is that some sites have shelters and some do not. It was essential that I have a shelter site, and that took priority over all else.

Cougars!

Before I set up camp, I went over to the pay station, popped money into the envelope for my campsite, then went into the park visitor center.

First thing I saw: A sign warning that cougars are active in the area and how to (and not to) react if one should come upon a cougar. And to not hike around dawn or dusk. Or run. Because that might attract them.

I tucked that information away for future reference.

Jessica 

Walking into the visitor center, I remembered Jessica Terrell, who worked with the New Mexico State Parks agency after she left Missouri. I considered asking the park employee at the center if he knew her, but didn't. Maybe I will before I leave the park.


Setting up camp

My tent isn't difficult to set up, but it's painstaking, so I got to it. I tried to fit it unerneath the shelter for maximum shade, but it wouldn't quite fit, so I settled for it being next to the shelter in a way that the doorway opened into the shelter.

My campsite, Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Blood! Cougar! Chacha!

And then, of all things, while I was in the midst of setting up the tent, my nose began to bleed. Not a little bit, but a lot. Holy shit! What the hell? I think the air has been so dry it just did a number on my nose.

But it was bleeding so profusely, there were actual drops of blood on the gravel in the shelter!

Human blood! In a place where "cougars are active"!

So I took time out to deal with this crazy nosebleed, even going so far as to stuff kleenex up my nostril (TMI?) so I could finish with the tent business. But it soon became sodden with blood. I uttered the F word numerous times and took time out to let the damn thing subside. 

Finally, it did, and I finished setting up the tent.

And, now, what to do about the blood? Right near my tent? In a place where "cougars are active"?! And I'm the only camper who actually has a tent because everyone else has a camper or an RV?  And will they even hear me scream when I'm attacked by a cougar in my tent, while they're watching TV in their impenetrable RVs?

Scuffing gravel over the drops surely wouldn't foil the scent. No, I needed something stronger.

Got it. I pulled out my Georgian chacha and poured some on each drop of blood. This would work, wouldn't it? I let the chacha soak in thoroughly, then dry, and then I scuffed gravel over the drops.  

Front row seat of sunset from my campsite, Oliver Lee Memorial State Parks

The wind! Outside my tent!
  
The moon was so bright and almost full, I didn't need a lantern at my site. Beautiful. I listened to music. 

Came time to go to bed, and I snuggled into my tent with my kindle.

It was very windy outside. The tent shuddered and flapped and whooshed. Under the shelter, various things made small noises as the wind ruffled them. The zippers on my tent door shook loudly. I tried to ignore them, tried to stop imagining large animals huffaluffing and snuffling about outside.

I tried some cognitive reality mumbo jumbo on my head, to no avail. The wind was freaking me out. Really, it all started with the cougar thing. 

I said, "I will not go sleep in my car. I will not go sleep in my car. I will not go sleep in my car."

But then I said, "I'll walk up to the bathroom and then think about sleeping in the car, but I'm not going to sleep in the car."

So I climbed out of the tent, and began walking up to the bathroom, around the bend an up the incline, when "Huff!" I heard, like a deep cough. A couger cough. From the brush. And I heard the movement of the brush. And then something move back into the brush.

I turned around, and walked quickly back to my site ("do not run") and got into my car, and drove up to the bathroom, relieved myself, drove back to my site, retrieved my sleeping bag and pillow from my tent, and slept in my car.

They say that the most intelligent and imaginative people are the most susceptible to phobias. I can take comfort in that.

My campsite view at Oliver Lee Memorial State Park, New Mexico

Georgian Decor

I came across an old family photo the other day.


The photo is of my paternal grandparents and relatives circa 1940. Their grandparents or parents immigrated to Ohio from Switzerland.

It hit me that the decor showing in this family photo is very much like the decor I've seen in many Georgian homes.

Note the family is gathered around a dinner table, also evocative of a Georgian milieu.

But you may also note the absence of wine or chacha, hence the rather sedate atmosphere. 

Armenia: The Four Things You Must Try

Dinner at Afrikyanneri Pankok restaurant in Yerevan

Before I went to Armenia, I was told by Georgians there were four things I must try:

1. Tolma
2. Cognac
3. Sujuk or basturma - types of sausage, with the latter being quite peppery
4. Go to Lake Sevan

None of these Georgians had actually been in Armenia, mind you, but they had their recommendations nonetheless.

On our first day in Armenia, Kathy and I were able to tick three things off the list:

Yerevan is filled with basement restaurants and clubs. By chance, we selected the Afrikyanneri Pandok restaurant, which has been in business since 1829 or so.  At least according to a sign.

Dinner at Afrikyanneri Pankok restaurant in Yerevan

The interior was castle-ish and intimate. An oxymoron, I know.

There were musicians.

Dinner at Afrikyanneri Pankok restaurant in Yerevan

A variety of bread was served. I thought it was just so-so, though it looked delicious.

The tolma tasted good, though I find the Georgian version, whether wrapped in grape or cabbage leaves, to be just as fine.

Kathy deemed the hummus the best she'd ever had. 

Dinner at Afrikyanneri Pankok restaurant in Yerevan

The salad Kathy ordered had a delicious yogurt-and-cheese dressing that I thought was the best part of the entire meal. But we both loved the fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and parlsey. Winter in Georgia makes one long for such garden-brightness. Locavority be damned sometimes.

Kathy and I finished our dinner with two different kinds of cognac: Ararat and Ani. Not being a connoisseur, my humble opinion is that they tasted like a very smooth tcha-tcha, with a pleasing amber color. For my money, I'd just go with a good tcha-tcha. 

After dinner, we walked back to Center Hostel, noting that Yerevan's pavement was not as treacherous as that in Georgia.

We stopped at a corner market.

Corner market in Yerevan

I bought a sujuk, which the proprietor sliced for me.

Sujuk from Armenia

I also bought a smallish bag of tiny spiced crackers and two of what Kathy and I thought were dried fruit - maybe peaches or oranges.

Herb in corner market, Yerevan

We climbed the four floors to our hostel and chatted awhile with the warm hostess, Suzanne. Kathy speaks some German and so does Suzanne, so they were able to communicate fairly effectively, Kathy keeping me apprised of the conversation. I shared some of the Gori wine I'd brought with me (which Mariami had given to me on that glorious, rainy day where we picnicked in a Fiat), and we cut into the dried fruit.

Which turned out to be a peach packed with sugar and chopped walnuts. To me, it was like eating a tablespoon of sugar (not a tasty experience), but Kathy, who loves sweets, liked it.  I'm still not sure how all of this sugar/walnuts got into the peach, but I think it involved boiling the peach for a long time, and then .... I dunno.


Presently our tasty day was complete.  We got into our respective bunk beds, under the most soothing-swaddling of duvets and the simple pleasure of not having to wear socks to bed! What freedom!

Rustavi: Warmth Strategies

It's cold, and with no central heat and no roaring woodstove, my body is almost always in a state of clench, a pre-shivers sort of condition. Dubai's sunny warmth is but a fond memory today.

Here are some things that help warm me up temporarily:

Today's lunch, for example, a potato-and-beef soup made by Nely - along with the shot of chacha:

In bed at night, the hot water bottle:

... and the layered night-time clothing, three layers on top and two layers on bottom. Also, two duvets. I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd actually be warmer with just one duvet (something to do with the fluffy air inside), but I'm too scared of the cold to test that theory. Maybe I should just ask Nely.

In the kitchen with the door kept closed, the gas burner keeps that room toasty.

When it gets very, very, very cold in my room, I put this on for a little while:

Rustavi Lunch, Rain, Drink, and Dance

The ladies of "my" building invited me and my hostess, Nino, to lunch. Every building has some outdoor space with a couple of picnic tables. All morning, I'd noticed women and some men clearing up the environs, picking up trash, pruning trees and clearing brush, and then burning grass.

In the afternoon, Nino indicated that we were to go out to lunch at what I thought was her friend's house, who'd I'd met yesterday. So I put on my hat and threw my bag over my shoulder. Nino kind of laughed, but we headed out. That's when I realized why Nino had laughed - we were only going down to the communal yard.

The ladies had prepared a great picnic - khinkali, watermelon, and various other dishes. They'd filled a couple of small wading pools for the kids to play in - it was very hot. There was also cold beer, mineral water, and some kind of soda.

Khinkali. Dumpling filled with meat and juices. Credit: Chef Premier

We had a pleasant time, stumbling along in hashed English and Georgian. Later, I shared the photos I'd brought. Among all of them, the photo of a family pig roast, with said pig, on said roast, being the highlight of the photo, evoked from the Georgians sighs and poetry (and may I suggest, even tears) of love toward the deliciousness of roast pork.

One husband sent off for tcha-tcha, a powerful Georgian alcoholic beverage, made with the dregs of the wine making. I think it's on the order of vodka, but made with grape base. To go with the tcha-tcha was brought cherry juice. One downs the shot of tcha-tcha and then follows that with the cherry chaser. I had three shots.

Amazing how much clearer one's vision becomes and how much more skilled one becomes in the local language after three shots of tcha-tcha.

Later met the son of Nino's sister and two of his friends. Had another beer. Watched a Georgian dance video, which I show below. It is a classic military dance - I think you'll agree it is pretty fantastic. After that is another video, with English subtitles, on the "legend" of Georgian dance.





   
The afternoon brought a cooling and drenching rain. The streets are the storm drainage system.

View from my bedroom

View from my bedroom - the rain created a lake in the courtyard.