Endearingly, never on the hour, but close. Not this Birmingham bell tower, although the Hilltop bells are nice, too. As is the birdsong before the bells.
Emergency vehicle siren
I'm just around the corner from a fire station with an EMT crew. They get called several times a day.
Ambulance, Mescalero 4th of July Parade. Mescalero, New Mexico. July 2013.
Train horn
If I walk to the corner of the apartment complex campus, I can see the tracks.
The Birmingham train that goes by my place doesn't sound like this, but it's an excuse to replay my mix from Juarez Museum of the Revolution below:
The first time I walked from my new apartment to downtown, it was to check out the Saturday farmers' market.
There are many paths from my apartment to downtown, and Google maps chose an odd one, though I didn't know it at the time. I became lost, inevitably, but eventually found my way.
Will I ever tire of seeing Mexico so close I can almost touch it? I don't think so. This is one of the reasons I chose El Paso. To almost be in two countries at once.
To Mexico across I-10, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
I'm within walking distance of the ballpark!
Chihuahuas' Ballpark, El Paso, Texas. September 2016.
I watched a train chug and screech west, past the Union Station. Oh, how glorious is the chug and scratch. The protesting scrape of metal against metal is like the occasional squeak of an acoustic guitar; it adds an earthiness, a reassuring imperfection, to the music. The video below:
Train choo-ing under Katy Bridge, Boonville, Missouri. August 2016.
My descendant and I left South Louisiana at the beginning of August and came back to Missouri, where I re-deposited her with her parents. On our way back to Missouri, via Harrison, Arkansas, we saw this ugly welcome. Fortunately, my granddaughter is too young to take in its over-sized message.
So began an intermission in Missouri before pushing off to my new home for a year.
Boonville on a hot-hot day
Hoo-wee, it was hot when we walked over to the Katy Bridge in Boonville.
You wouldn't think I'd be so done in by the heat seeing as how I'd just spent two years in South Louisiana, but sweet Jesus, it was oppressive.
A train chug-chugging under the bridge here and here:
I like how the backdraft pushed the tree branches, and then me, following the train.
Train choo-ing under Katy Bridge, Boonville, Missouri. August 2016.
My sister, Murphy, and I popped up to Cheyenne, Wyoming when I visited her in Longmont, Colorado, in May.
Murphy hadn't yet done any Wyoming prowling, so it was a mutual exploration of something new.
My main takeaways:
Cheyenne, the town. I liked the vibe! It would be a place to consider lingering in for months or even a year. But the winter's cold and snow take it off my list.
Wyoming's rest areas/visitor centers. Murphy and I stopped in at two. Wowser. Impressive for their interior and exterior designs and their exhibits.
What's the name of the college town? Right, Laramie. We passed through after taking the Happy Jack loop from Cheyenne en route to Longmont. Unremarkable. Of course, the infamous torture and killing of the young student in 1998 is burned into my brain.
Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.
Lunch
Murphy and I lunched at the Rib & Chop House downtown. I ordered the Chophouse Caesar Salad with the sirloin + bacon. Delish.
2016 Depot Days
We happened to visit Cheyenne during its 2016 Depot Days event. Many train aficionados attended. Watching the model train setup in the historic train depot mesmerized. The video below:
As part of the Depot Days, a double-decker bus shuttled people between the historic depot and the fairgrounds on the edge of town. A sunny day it was, and Murphy and I chose the upper, open-air deck of the bus. It was an easy-button way to see some of the Cheyenne neighborhoods.
Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.
Gosh, I just loved the color play between that luscious red building and the fresh, baby-green foliage on the square.
Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.
Murphy had a hankerin' to visit the city cemetery, so we did. It was a fruitful visit, with its greenery and graceful white stones. And the Maynards, may they rest in peace.
Cemetery, Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.
Rest Area / Visitor Center / Welcome Center / Whatever
Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument
A beauty.
Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument, Wyoming. May 2016.
Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument, Wyoming. May 2016.
View from Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument, Wyoming. May 2016.
Southeast Wyoming Welcome Center aka Wyoming Travel and Tourism
I don't have any pictures of this center, but I was impressed by the exhibits within, the interior design, and the mid-century-ish, Frank Lloyd Wrightian exterior design. There are marvelous photos and commentary here.
Morning train rise, Pinhook Road, Lafayette, Louisiana. February 2015.
A recent Saturday morning and I was on my way to a bird hike.
The morning sun and train flashing on these Lafayette buildings caught my eye.
Pinhook, I think, east of the Evangeline Thruway. Put another way: Business 90 before it takes one of those inexplicable Laffellian right-angle jumps from one road to another.
It was in Caucasus Georgia that I first slept on a train. If you think it might be cool to lie on a bed, being gently shaken, while looking at a full moon through the window as you pass by a dark landscape, you'd be right.
I present for you some scenes from Georgian trains.
Correction for above - hey, that's not a scene from a train, it's a scene from a marshrutka. But what the hey, it shows off Georgian countryside and has a pretty song in the background. My companions and I did take a train from Tbilisi to Zugdidi (and then a marshrutka to the legendary Svaneti), and it was even an overnight train, but where the visual evidence of that might be? Somewhere in the archives. I'll hunt for it another day.
I've been thinking about trains lately. I definitely had a relationship with trains in New Mexico. Usually a good song was playing while I waited for a train to cross or while I drove alongside a moving train.
In Lafayette, I hear complicated melodies from birds hoping to hook up for the spring. I don't see the birds usually, as they're in the dense foliage of my surrounding trees. But there's a nonstop conversation of trills and chirps and whistles and squeaks.
I doubt my birds are Baltimore orioles, but the sounds I hear are similar.
Then there are the trains - some day I must try to count how many go through in a day. Lots. This train track below is less than a mile from my place:
I'm not far from a hospital, so I hear ambulances on occasion.
Squirrels barrel across the roof over my head frequently.
After my first pass through Gallup, I wrote about it here.
On a more recent drive-through, I still felt that special something about Gallup. Not the winters. Don't like them - too damn cold.
Zombies in Gallup, New Mexico?
Gallup is a train town. I like that. Even the town's name has a train connection.
Gallup, New Mexico
I'm not the only tourist attracted to Gallup. Here's an in-depth look at the town by another passerby, cvmiranda, who "found [herself] fascinated trying to figure out the history,
demographics, economy, and everything about this city after an hour
visit."
Gallup, New Mexico
Gallup has a town center - well, three town centers, in fact: One with the government buildings and a library and a public art thing going on, then an historic commercial center with bars and stores. Then there's the Route 66 motel row parallel to the train tracks. There's a residential area with tidy houses in good shape. There's a section where people aren't so flush.
The folks are gosh darn friendly in Gallup, an opinion based on my few interactions with Gallupians I encountered.
Gallup, New Mexico
Gallup has a diverse history, what with Indian trading in artisan work, mining, the railroad, and I don't know what else.
Here is a repository of oral histories from members of the United Indian Traders' Association (UITA), which played a prominent role in Gallup commerce.
Overall, Gallup comes across as a town that's seen better days, but with pockets of hope showing. To check my perception against reality, I looked at city-data's information for both Gallup and Jefferson City,
Missouri, where I come from. Median household income is slightly higher
in Gallup than Jefferson City (48k versus 47k, respectively), but
there's a large reverse gap in per capita income: 19k in Gallup versus
26k in Jefferson City). (Larger families in Gallup?) When I dig a little deeper, I see that 46.6% of
Gallup households have an income of 40k or less, while the same holds
true for 43.7% of Jefferson City households. Bottom line: I haven't dug any deeper to know what to make of Gallup's economic situation.
Gallup, New Mexico
The Gallup Cultural Center is fine, designed with an eye for space and light.
Ask a veteran hobo at a convention jungle what a
hobo is and you'll receive a definite answer.
The hobo is a migratory
worker, some with a special skill or trade, others ready to work at any
task, but always willing to work to make his way.
The
tramp, they'll tell you, is a traveling non-worker, moving from town to
town, but never willing to work for the handouts that he begs for.
A
bum is the lowest class, too lazy to roam around and never works.
Awhile back, I introduced two of my great-uncles, Philip and Toby, who were part-time hobos during the Great Depression, riding the rails in search of work.
Holly Dorhn's dad started riding the rails as a hobby in 2003. She tells the story here.
"Northbank Fred" offers a rich stockpile of articles about current hobos or offshoots here.
I wonder if Glenn Campbell considers himself a hobo. He does call himself "homeless by choice."
Robert Heinlein wrote Day After Tomorrow, which featured hobos and the hobo jungles. It was about a small group of scientists tasked with taking the U.S. back from "Pan-Asian" invaders (read: Chinese) invaders. One of the characters, Jeff, a well-educated guy who lived the hobo life before the Chinese took over, used the hobo network for his revolutionary activities.
As for me, I'm not a hobo. I am rootless. I'm neither house-less nor homeless, but I don't have my house or my home.
In January 2010, my mother and I took the train to Kansas City, Missouri. This is part 1 of our trip report, which includes comments from our original trip-report recipients.
Kansas City, WWI Museum, in the trenches.
MZURI'S REPORT
Our train arrived at Kansas City's Union Station on Sunday afternoon. There'd been bit of a
snafu about the tickets, but we straightened all of this out when we arrived.
While at the Union Station, we had lunch at the Harvey HouseDiner, where I was accosted by a Monte Cristo sandwich (who knew?). Carol
had an always-reliable reuben. As to "who knew"? Carol evidently
knew, but as she'd also been assaulted by one in the past, I think she felt
secretly gleeful to witness another's demise. After I'd placed my order and the
server had left, she did ask coyly, "Have you ever had a Monte
Cristo?" Look it up. Shows the importance of clear writing;
specifically, where the word "fried" sits in the description.
We're staying at Residence Inn Downtown/Union Hill. Very pleasant, like a
studio apartment. Free shuttle service within five-mile radius. Free breakfast.
Free light dinner Mondays through Wednesdays.
Kansas City, WWI Museum, in the trenches.
Yesterday, Monday, we went to the Liberty
Memorial/WWI Museum. Very impressive museum. The trenches were especially
vivid due to the visual design and the audios of soldiers' descriptions of
their experiences in the trenches. There was a great movie that bridged the
European and American sections. The movie displayed on a corridor-length wall
that overlooked a battlefield diorama below. Exceptionally well-done. One
enters the museum proper by walking on a glass bridge that overlooks a
"field" of 9000 poppies.
Kansas City, WWI Museum. Glass walkway over field of poppies.
Carol's father, WWI soldier
[Note: The WWI Museum has particular interest for Carol, as her father fought in that war. He didn't like to talk about his experience there, but he made it clear the war was horrific.]
We enjoyed a quite respectable lunch at the Over There Cafe at the museum.
In late afternoon, a former colleague of mine came by for a visit. Carol joined
in for awhile, and then Donna and I went to The Brick , funkyish
little bar for its Monday-night Rural Grit Happy Hour. Rural Grit is a sort-of
open mic deal. Music is roots, americana, bluesy/jazzy, folksy whatever kind of
stuff. Some was great, some was ok, some interesting, and some godawful. Cool
vibe there, though.
Weather dreary, but as with Chicago, there is a vast difference between
vacationing in KC in dismal weather versus the Lake of the Ozarks. Vast.
[Note: A week-long stay at Lake of the Ozarks the previous year, during the winter, was deadly. Dead. Ly.Nothing to do except visit the outlet mall. In Chicago there's plenty to do regardless of weather.]
CAROL'S
REPORT
Accurately reported by Mzuri. While the experience has been enjoyable,
engrossing and educational I feel as if we have been here for about a
week which makes the trip very economical. The weather, even tho gray and
foggy, is mild and we walk from our second floor "suite" in the
fourth building to the reception room where breakfast buffet is set up and a
roaring fire and newspaper cheers us up as we enjoy the vittles. Kansas
City, Missouri, seems newer than St. Louis which, of course, is true...smaller
also. After touring the Steamboat Arabia today, we plan to find a tour
bus or city bus and see more of the city. The Residence Inn provides us
with shuttle service within a five-mile perimeter which makes it only a cell
phone call away at any time up to 9 PM. By the way, the National WW1
Museum was wonderful - one of a kind as far as scope is concerned.
EMAIL RESPONSES TO
DAILY LOG:
FROM SHILO GIRL:
LOL. I have
heard the Monte Cristo sandwich story before. And I believe Mom ordered
it twice. The second time to give it another chance. I think she
was enticed by the picture of the sandwich on the wall of the restaurant (in
the Ameristar complex). Humorous to hear, not so to have been the
recipient of the sandwich.
I can picture her
internally enjoying the whole deal with you, from order, to presentation, to
finally the first bite! What a hoot! She can be so sly.
Sounds like you
are experience some promising "must-sees" for a future trip for me!
FROM STORMY:
So very happy to
receive your "report". I was having withdrawal symptoms.
Happy travels
girls!
FROM JACK:
Enjoying the travelogue. I am uncertain about references to Lake Ozark
and Chicago. I know Chicago had a snowstorm while you were there. Sounded
cold and oppressive, but survivable apart from the bus drivers. How do
the three compare? Was Lake Ozark the worst or best under these
circumstances? Anyway, enjoying immensely. Carry on people.
See those cantaloupes on the left? The flesh was green instead of orange, but tasted just like cantaloupe. A super fragrant, juicy, delicious cantaloupe.
Istanbul. My neighborhood convenience store.
Istanbul. My neighborhood fortune-telling man, rabbits, and rooster.
Snafu at the Ataturk Airport. Didn't get picked up as arranged, so took a taxi to Yeni Hotel, which agreed - without hesitation - to pay the difference between what the taxi charged me and what I would have paid the hotel. I liked that.
The taxi got lost on the way to the hotel, and I'm glad I gave him the phone number before we took off from the airport so he could call the place on occasion. Plus ask various bystanders.
I also liked that the hotel let me check into my room early. I enjoyed a cup of coffee in the hotel's cozy lounge while I waited.
And I liked that even before I got into said room, the mgt told me they'd be moving me to a different room for the rest of my stay, as there was construction going on outside my room. A new metro station.
Good wifi.
Yeni Hotel, Istanbul
Pleasant room, lots of light, although that's a mixed blessing in Istanbul's heat. A floor fan. Decent wardrobe and desk. Blinding white sheets and good bath towel. Good-quality sliders (shoes) for room and bath.
Yeni Hotel, Istanbul
Gigantic shower (the size of a room!) with good hot water, plenty of hooks. Toilet is fine. Sink is outside WC. In fact, the WC and sink were just outside my room, so it was almost like having them en suite.
The hotel/hostel - I get confused about which is it - is owned by two brothers and their two sons. The father-son pairs switch off day-to-day operations, each taking several-day shifts. The hotel is over 100 years old.
Yeni Hotel, Istanbul
There's a spiral staircase with marble steps that are worn in the center edges from so much foot traffic.
Headache
A dull headache plagued me all day. Bummer.
Money
Before I left Georgia, I contacted my financial institution to notify them I'd be in Turkey and asked that they check things on their end to make sure I wouldn't have any unhappy surprises on my end. I'd read that Turkey has an unfortunate reputation for bank card scams, and U.S. financial institutions get a little nervouse when they see transactions coming out of Turkey.
I went down to an ATM to get some money and damned if I didn't run into a problem. Fortunately, this ATM was just outside its bank, and I went inside and got help from a bank staffer. He made sure I used the machine on the right instead of the left, as apparently the one on the left really didn't like dispensing lira, preferring instead, euros or dollars. Also, it didn't want to give me the amount I requested, so I went for a lower amount. Communication, ATMs, communication, what, do you think we can read your minds when you've got a problem? Just telling me a transaction is not possible "at this time" is unhelpful. Sheesh.
I relieved myself of a hefty wad of Turkish lira for my three-week hotel stay, then after a nap to (hopefully, but unsuccessfully, rid myself of the headache), I ventured out again.
The hotel mgt had already proven itself to me, despite the airport pick-up issue, that it believed it important to keep guests happy, thus I felt relaxed about paying the full amount up front.
Venturing out
Often there's a pull between the "should" of doing something versus the desire to just be in a place. The benefit of being in a place for three weeks is that there's plenty of time for both.
I did go out and poke around. Walked down to the water. Walked through some narrow streets. Had lunch.
Istanbul bride and groom
I saw the same birds one sees in Georgia almost every day: a newly-married couple. In this case, it was a bride and groom at a gas station, and the bride was inserting herself and her immense dress into a small car.
Trams
So far, the biggest cool factor for me are the so-called modern trams. It's difficult for me to tell the difference between the funiculars (I find this word so annoying. Shouldn't this be the name for some sort of waffle cone, really?) and a train and a 'modern' tram, but whatever. The cool thing is they're riding on the street just like a train. On narrow streets. With two tracks, one for each way. With lots of people right, right, right next to them.
Istanbul from Red River Restaurant
Transportation song
Istanbul is a people-moving city. Trams, ferries, taxis, cars, buses, subways, trains, and feet. There are 13 million residents of Istanbul - given the number of tourists I've seen in what is the low season, that's a lot of DNA swirling about.
I wonder if in a million years there won't be a layer of mammalian slough-off, just as there's a layer of paleo-soil from way back. Skin, spit, and other bodily effluvia. We will one day be oil.
This video has the sights and sounds of Istanbul traffic.
I went down to the water - the Bosphorus - and watched the ferry traffic.
Istanbul, Bosphorus
Vendors sold roasted or boiled corn on the cob, roasted nuts, mussels, fish, and other sundries.
Istanbul, mussels and lemons
I had lunch at the Red River restaurant. Go figure.
Not bad. A cheese/basil wrap.
Istanbul
A shower
The shower. There's something about taking a shower in an immense room that is so luxurious. The feeling, not the room. Plenty of hot water. Nice.
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