This Reminds Me

Archive for the ‘Away from Home’ Category

Keith and I had been nowhere fun together all year, and the girls were anxious to do Christmas shopping.  So it was off to Nuevo Progresso this weekend, knowing we’d have today to catch up.

I’ve taken a variation of this shot since 2003. There’s something fun about placing one foot in one country, and the other foot in a second country.

Had to chuckle at this text to Keith’s iPhone, which was wisely set in airplane mode.  The last time we’d gotten that message was on last year’s cruise.

The best selection of purses we found was actually in a pharmacia.  “Juicy” was the big brand, in the $28 – $70 range.  Lots of “Coach,” too, plus “Chanel.”   “Chanel” scarves, wallets and sneakers to match.  I was looking for a new backpack purse as mine is three years old and starting to look it, but the only ones I saw were fugly chunky leather.  No “Kate Spade” or “Dooney and Burke.”    Gum wrapper purses – still very available, and in the $10 – $25 range, depending on size.

Best quote of the trip – from Lois, to Julia – “A slingshot – yet another thing you’re not getting.”  Julia is not enamored of purses and dresses, but did score a large plaster parrot for her room, and a stash of Mexican candy.  Actually, you don’t have to buy the child anything to make her happy.  Just plunk her down in a motel.  She loves the entire experience – little bars of soap, a different bed, setting the air conditioner (or – in her case, which endeared her to her sisters in the wee hours – flipping on the heater), the ice machine, the room key – everything about a motel.

Keith had to drive 250 miles to buy San Antonio habanero  sauce?  Hannah’s in awe.

The street vendors loved Rachel, whom I think bought at least one bracelet of every style.

Love this picture of Julia, because it so says whom she is.  Everyone else collapsed at a table during a Coca-Cola Light (Diet Coke) break.  Not Julia.  She climbed onto a bar stool so she could survey her surroundings.  Julia does not walk – she skips, hops, struts or runs.  And she does not sit.  She’s “on the lookout” for what’s next.

Speaking of Coke – Hannah always buys a bottle of “the real thing” with real Mexican sugar.  A jaunt to Mexico is the one time I do not forbid sugared soft drinks.  We now return to our regularly scheduled program.

Our favorite lunch stop – La Fogato – was empty except for our table, and one other. The girls and I wolfed the delicious pico de gallo, but Keith declined, “just in case one of us needed to be able to drag five of you out of the bathroom.”

The eldest three purchased dresses, which they wore to Chili’s for dinner Saturday night (American side.)  We don’t stay in Mexico after dark anyway, but especially not this year. The “South Padre Island Bike Fest” was just up the road, and we figured they’d be coming to Progresso for an evening of partying.  They did.  When we crossed the border at 4 p.m., there were already dozens of hard-drinking, leather-clad bikers roaring down the streets.

As much fun as we had – and we really did – the trip was kind of sad, too. The family-owned-for-generations shop where Keith bought his “tortuga giganta” two years ago?  Closed.   Roxy’s – the upscale shop where we bought so many lovely crosses and talavera last year -closed.   I’d guess half to two-thirds of the side street/alley shops were vacant.  Why?   Even though Progresso has been spared the drug violence that has ruined other crossing spots (Laredo, Tijuana, etc.) for tourists – Americans are scared to cross.  I can understand that.  Even in Progresso, there’s a tank and soldiers at the entrance to the city – though I actually find that less threatening than comforting.  Maybe Mexico is serious about keeping it safe.

I really don’t care how many drug lords and runners kill themselves.  I really don’t.  I know I should.  I know God loves them just as much as He loves me.  I know their souls are precious.  And I still don’t care.  As far as I an concerned, you could lock them all in a cement cage with guns and let them shoot each other to shreds and the world would be a better place.

What I do care about is what this horrendous violence is doing to decent people across the border.  That guy selling gum wrapper purses is trying to support his family.  That woman desperately trying to interest you in her blankets has kids at home – and maybe on the street right next to you – that are hungry.  And yet they are the ones that suffer from this godless insanity.  You can’t make a living from tourism when they are no tourists.  And there are fewer and fewer tourists as more and more Americans are caught in the violence - 48 in the first half of this year alone.

Laredo provided decades of enjoyment for my family.  Then Keith and I acknowledged it was simply too dangerous to visit any longer, so we switched to Progresso.  And now we see Progresso withering, not because of drug violence, but because of the (very understandable) fear of it.

I’m especially glad we went this weekend, because as Keith said before we left, “This trip could be our last.”

I hope not.  Not only for us-the-tourists, but also for the decent people that are just trying to make a living.

My Fellow Americans:

I played hooky today to take the girls to the LBJ Presidential Library and Museum in Austin.  There’s a Walter Chronkite exhibit in addition to the permanent Presidential/Texana displays.  Awesome!

Not a bad drive – less than two hours.  And blessedly overcast as Texas awaits the arrival of Hurricane Alex.

Great Minds

I explained to Hannah:  I was in second grade when JFK was assassinated.    A neighbor – Bobby Dyer – shared the news as I rode my bike home.  I called him a dirty liar and beat him up.    A few years ago, I entered the Kwik Copy he managed with his wife.  He recognized me and quickly hunched and raised both fists.

We talked a lot of WWII history on the way home, including PT109, LBJ and his fellow Congressmen called home after a few months of military service, the role of the GI Bill in post-war America, etc.

A wall of campaign buttons.  I have dozens (hundreds?), the oldest of which is a 1900 McKinley/Roosevelt.  At the 1984 RNC in Dallas, I had an opportunity to buy a Lincoln  Daguerreotype for $125 – and I didn’t.  I wish I had.  Those were the days when I had time and money.

The Civil Rights displays totally mystified and captivated Julia, whose best friends (and our next door neighbors) are black.

Tricky Rachel, who says she’s not a crook – though not all my change comes home from the grocery store

Animatron Lyndon cracking jokes freaked the herd of daycare kids.

Lois liked the memorabilia in the Cronkite exhibit, including NASA models of space craft.  My dad worked at NASA and we had two of those models.  I have no idea where they are now.  (sigh)

Lots of Cronkite’s notepads, teletype sheets, spirals, etc. on display.  Julia said, “Mom, his handwriting looks like yours,” to which Rachel responded, “No, you can read it.”

A little post-museum break for Hannah.  Julia was confused by the fountain geyser, thinking it was somehow related to the coming hurricane. Lois somberly confirming with a “Yes, Julia, it is – and we’ll probably have a tornado, too” didn’t help.

Many out-of-state plates in the parking lot, including those belonging to Twilight fans.

Ever heard of Flip Happy Crepes?  It’s about two miles from the museum.  Keith watched a “Throwdown with Bobby Flay” episode featuring the Flip Happy trailer, crew and delicious crepes!   We messaged poor Keith several photos while he slaved away at work, munching the lunch I packed before we left.

Flip Happy’s owner – Tessa – featured on the Bobby Flay program graciously stepped out for a photo.  Nice lady.  And tasty, tasty eats! Necessary to build our strength before an afternoon stop at the Tanger Outlets on the drive home. Everything at the Old Navy Outlet – 40% off today.  We did damage.

A great museum, fantastic exhibits, wonderful lunch and jaunt through the outlet mall – well, my fellow Americans - “That’s the way it was.”

When Rachel was born, Keith and I started a small Savings Bond deduction with the idea of doing something really special around the time she started college.  We knew then as we richly understand now – when your kids are in college, they’re only half-yours.

After 16 months of planning – we’ve done that “something really special.”   We’ve just returned from a week-long Caribbean Christmas cruise sandwiched between eight sunny days in Puerto Rico.  The cruise is why we didn’t send Christmas cards (and why I need to hurry and order New Year’s cards!)  The peeps we chat with daily knew about our going, but we didn’t make a big deal of announcing it, especially online.  (“Yes, the house will be empty.  Please come rob it.”)

Before the cruise…..three days in San Juan, including its historic forts:

Iguanas exhibit no fear of Castillo San Cristobal (fort) tourists.   The reverse can’t be said for the tourists.

Julia strutted through the forts, usually leading our way.  I’ve long referred to her as “my little engineer” but after watching her obvious enjoyment of all things military, I started thinking:  “What about West Point?  What about The Air Force Academy, or the Naval Academy?”  She’s certainly smart enough and athletic enough to excel in a military profession.  Something to consider for a few years from now…..

A pensive moment for Lois, reflecting on Old San Juan.

A little post-fort shopping in Old San Juan with a stop in front of a statue of the Three Kings.  We saw imagery of Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar all over Puerto Rico.   Locals told us Christmas day is important religiously, but their family celebrations usually take place on January 6.  I saw no Christmas “stuff” half-price after December 25; I’m betting it doesn’t hit clearance until January 7.

Keith spent 16 months researching and booking all our Puerto Rican side-trips and ship excursions, including this Friday night swim with millions of bioluminescent dinoflagellates.   We took a fast boat across a bay, then jostled by bus off-road to a landing for the more gentle boat ride to the inky-black bio bay.  As we swam, the glowing, glittering dinoflagellates swirled around us, clinging to our skin.  At one point, I lifted my glittery arms to the starry heavens and seemed to meld with the sky.  The girls enjoyed the swim; for me, it was a spiritual experience.  How can anyone look at the tiny creatures lighing that bay and the beauty around and above it and believe there is no God?

We boarded the Carnival Victory Sunday, December 20.

Keith, Julia and I lodged in a balcony room; Rachel, Lois and Hannah shared an inside room across the hall.   Julia and Keith spent hours relaxing on the balcony, watching the ship pull away from and into port, spotting other ships and the occasional fish, identifying constellations, etc.

Christmas morning view from our balcony – the sun rising over St. Kitts.

Buckle up, Buttercup!  Have you seen the Carnival commercial featuring the water slide where you “scream like a little girl?”   No screaming from us – but lots of “Whoo-Whoos!”

Part of the fun of returning to the ship every day:  Towel animals on our beds!  Omigosh, I loved coming back to a tidied room and fresh towels every day.  I”m thinking of hanging my pilfered “Cruising” placard on my bedroom door knob tomorrow when I leave for work and see if it still works its magic…..

Deck the halls!  Carols above the lounge on Christmas Eve.

Santa delivered a Disney stocking for each of the girls, hanging from Julia’s swing-down bunk.  High School Musical for Julia; Hannah Montana for Hannah; Nightmare Before Christmas for Lois; and Cars for Rachel.

Every night at dinner, the waiters would gather to perform a bit’o'choreography.   I did a bit’o'chair’dancin’ myself.

We enjoyed two “elegant nights,” which is the only reason pantyhose defiled my suitcase.

We loved the ship, but the real thrills were on the excursions.  Like Dominica, which is the single most beautiful place I’ve ever been. We explored its charms with Woody, a 1996 Olympic swimmer and our tour guide.

The girls fought to take turns riding in the back of Woody’s jeep, which – thankfully – had seat belts.

We’d never seen poinsettias this big!

Jacko Falls, where we first tasted “Sweet Sop,” an insanely declicious fruit.  The girls became obsessed with it, insisting on frequent Sweet Sop snow cone stops.

Woody took us off-road to a little-known beach.   Incredibly beautiful – and we had it all to ourselves.

No noise, no litter, no vendors, no blaring music – nothing but absolute, totally private beauty.  Keith and I stood in chest-deep water and could count our toes.

Woody cracked open coconuts with a machete.   Yum!

Lois discovered schools of blue and orange fish, as well as gorgeous shells.

None of us wanted to leave Woody’s paradise – especially Rachel, our most enthusiastic beach buddy.


On New Year’s Eve, we recounted our trip adventures.  Rachel, Hannah and I voted “Woody’s Beach” the highlight.

Barbados - far more modern and industrialized than Dominica – was rich in history and roadside vendors.   The vendors appealed to the girls.  The history….well….

Keith and I visited the oldest church in Barbados, St. James Anglican, established 1648.  Its cemetery was fascinating.  The girls were so intrigued, they stayed in the car.

A Barbados hill-top warning.

Julia and Hannah went ape over vendors’ monkeys.  Julia created a “theme song” for the trip when she spotted locals butchering hogs for Christmas dinner.  She chanted, “Pigs, pigs, roasted pigs” in a sing-song voice, a mindless melody repeated countless times by Woodworth females (much to the irritation of the Woodworth male.)

We toured the rain forest of St. Lucia in an aerial tram – so relaxing.

I wish the tram ride had been hours long instead of 70 minutes – better than a massage!

Unfortunately, Rachel purchased this Rastafarian cap in St. Lucia.  You get my thanks if you can snatch it and burn it.

Christmas morning, we headed to Cockleshell Beach in St. Kitts.

A Christmas Star…Fish!  Rachel found it.  I’d never seen a live one in its natural habitat before.  She and lois braved skinned knees and bruises to retrieve four big shells from rock crevices.  We brought three home, but the fourth had a sand crab that refused to be dislodged.

Antigua – what views!  And “sea puppies!”

Eric Clapton owns a home on the island, per our driver.  I hummed “Layla” the rest of the day.

Keith, Julia and Lois voted swimming with the stingrays on Antigua the trip highlight.   The first time a stingray approached Rachel, she emitted a high-pitched scream and splashed back to the boat.  Julia stayed firmly affixed to Keith’s back, but we would pet them when they came by.  One thought Keith’s shirt was a food source and attached itself to him.   He did not appreciate my suggestion to join the La Leche League.

Hannah liked the stingrays so much, she nicknamed them “sea puppies.”  They’re very soft.

After the cruise (sob!), we decompressed five days in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico – much smaller than San Juan.

At a local grocery store…you know, that whole “Christmas with the Kranks” thing….fighting over Mel’s Hickory Honey Ham…..

Lois’ suggestion for a room snack.  No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no – that’s one for each tentacle.

A sign at Crashboat Beach, where we went almost daily.   It either says  – “In the event of a tsunami, get to high ground, ” or “In the event of a tsunami, lean way over and kiss yourself goodbye.”  You choose.

The best food in Aguadilla was served at Crashboat Beach.  Local vendors grill skewers of tasty chicken or fish.  Two skewers and a piece of bread – $5.  Yum! Keith also enjoyed mofongo, sort of a plantain and chicken stew.

Sandy Bottoms – er – Hannah at Crashboat.  The waves were very, very strong.   When Keith hobbled in from the surf one afternoon, he announced, “I was just handed my keester.”  The waves took two pairs of our goggles and a pair of Rachel’s sunglasses.

Our last day at Crashboat – New Year’s Eve.

So long, Crashboat.  Hope to see you again.  And feel free to give back those sunglasses.

So that was our trip.   What we’d spent 18 years saving for, and 16 months seriously planning.  The credit goes to Keith, who researched every possibility to the nth degree.

We were melancholy leaving the boat, and then five days later in the San Juan airport.  But as Rachel reminded us -

Don’t be sad because it’s over.  Be glad because it happened.

Something really special happened.

I’m glad.

The purses…..the Talavera…..the dresses…..they were calling to us.   ”C’mere, girls….c’mon…..come back to see us….special price, just for you….best price for you, lady….come in, come in…”

So we answered the call this Spring Break weekend and headed to Progresso, just across the border in the all-important Rio Grande Valley area of South Texas that supplies most of our fruits and vegetables.  And knock-off Prada bags.  Keith found us a strict maximum-of-five-guests motel room for $89/night (including breakfast) so by packing light, stopping at Wal-mart to replace the pajamas he forgot, eating breakfast in shifts, sneaking in an air mattress and quickly shoving Julia in the closet or behind a sister whenever staff was around – we managed two nights in one room pretty darned economically.

I really push the girls to take securely-closing backpack purses.  Leaves your hands free to signal, “That’s too much!”  The bridge between the U.S. and Mexico seems a lot shorter earlier in the day, when you’re not toting 10 lbs. of Talavera and the morning breeze is still blowing.

Some of my happiest memories are of wandering Laredo with Judy and Sarah, and later with Keith and the girls – but no more.  Drug lords have destroyed Laredo for decent people, including tourists, as they have with so many other border towns.  While the girls were distressed at the soldiers manning armored vehicles and automatic weapons at the entrance to Progresso - I found them – and the signs scattered about that explained their presence – vaguely comforting.  Maybe the Mexican government is serious about keeping criminals from taking over Progresso.  They were certainly searching enough cars for drugs – and that’s on their side of the border, apart from the checks on the U.S. side.

Rachel, Lois, Hannah and I all bought new purses.  Prada, Chanel, Dooney & Burke and D&G were the most prevelant. - some Kate Spade – even a few Juicy, though they were way too high ($75)  because of scarcity.  Good quality, though, I’ll say that.  Our purses’ average cost was about $20, with matching wallets going in the $5 – $10 range.

The heroes of any shopping trip in Mexico:  Plastic-webbed shopping bags.  They sell for about $1 – $2@.  We’ve had ours at least 15 years, maybe longer – I’m not sure they can be destroyed. You can tell the experienced shoppers on the bridge walking over because they bring their own.

Hannah and Rachel, who lamented, “My lips wouldn’t fit.”  Personally – not knowing whose lips had been masked before – I wouldn’t have even tried it on.

Question:  “For my room?”  Answer:  “No.”

Keith will – from time to time – catch a scene like this and mutter, “Stinks around here,” meaning, “She’s so spoiled.”  I generally respond, “What’s your point?”

Lunch time!  And tank you, too!

A cold bottle of Coca-Cola Light – the best!  Fun to have a bottle instead of a can.  Filtered ice cubes, of course – we always ask.  Unfiltered could mean a very, very long night in el bano.

Cabrito, we think.  Which we didn’t order.

Julia was fascinated by this artist hand-painting scenes on the bowls of bent spoons and even asked to have this picture taken with him.  I’m going to count the silverware when we unload the dishwasher tonight.

Car Wars.  When you’re trying to turn attention away from the fight you just started, break into “Jesus Loves Me” at top vocal capacity.

Lois can read in a moving vehicle, an activity guaranteed to have the rest of us reaching for the plastic bags.  She’s re-read the “Zombies Survival Guide” in preparation for the 2010 release of “World War Z,” which she and I intend to see opening night.  We both belong to Lost Zombies and maybe this summer, we’ll finally make our own video to post.  We meant to last summer, but what with battling the Solanum virus and all….

Home again!  And Talavera critters waiting to join the herd on the back fence.  The alligator was almost as challenging to tote across the bridge and pack for the ride home as was the snake five years ago.  We bought two cheap ($3@) blankets, strictly for packing.

Hasta la vista, Progresso – see you next year?!