Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts

Friday, February 25, 2011

Being Grandma in Taiwan- the Year of the Rabbit

I Just returned from 2 weeks in Taiwan where I met my grandson, Ethan for the the first time. He is 7 months old and already the smartest, cutest grand baby there ever was :-).



Some highlights of my trip included getting to feed Ethan, eating meals prepared by my daughter-in-law, Sandra and her mom. More eating at hot pot and Japanese barbeque restaurants. More eating at these joints where you catch and cook your own shrimp.

We also got the go to the lantern festival, the Taipei International Flower Show and the pottery museum.






Friday, October 8, 2010

Mesa Musings





MY LIFE NOW

More lists that could turn into writing:


What they say
:
They say don’t drink the water here.
They say the water is fine
They say there is recycling here.
They say do not drive after dark.
You could hit a cow.
They say it is fine to drive after dark
(just don’t hit a cow).
They say there is no recycling here.
They say there are rattle snakes
In the mesa where I walk in the evenings.
They say the weather is unusual for this time of year.
They say they have had a lot of rain.
They say it is much greener than usual.
They say they close Buffalo Pass in winter and
The snow is as deep as I am tall.
They might plow one side in the winter but the other side?
If they plow it, by nightfall it will be as slick like a slide.
They say it is always like this, this time of year cool evenings, hot days, but so clear, not like Phoenix.
They say to shop in Flagstaff, it is better there
Target, Trader Joes, New Frontier(just like whole foods).
They say to shop in Gallop it is closer,
Gallop is a dangerous place, they say.
They say that in the windy season
You will not be able to see to drive,
Like a blizzard and the red dust will
Creep in through the cracks around doors
And windows and pile this high
         (a hand to my waist).
         They say you can’t plant sage or rabbit plant
         In your yard but it grows all over the mesa and
         Lowlands too.  You can’t ever get enough root to make it
         Grow in burst of yellow in your yard that is pure flat
         Red dry dirt.
         They say we are lucky to have a plot of grass
         And now I feel guilty if it looks too dry
         They say everyone is envious of my grass.
I will probably kill it and feel guiltier so we have to mow it with a  weed whacker.   
There is not enough grass in our yard for a mower but we are lucky.
They say it is dry here but I see beer cans and bottles and more cans and bottles everywhere broken and whole on the flat and on the mesa.
They say those are not crows you see everywhere but ravens.
And it rained yesterday, poured in the desert
And the mudslides closed the road to Flagstaff, unearthed    a wrecked car, washed it down the mountain, no one even
knew it was there.
And today there are yellow flowers blooming around the apple tree in my yard (yes! We have an apple tree)
They call them sunflowers….very, very small sunflowers in the dessert.
They say you can hear the wind swishing through the trees in Buffalo Pass.  The trees are huge there, evergreen.
They say it is only 30 minutes away even though it takes us an hour.
And you can see Ship Rock from there.
And wild purple asters.



Mesa glass
They sell the vanilla here behind the counter with the cigarettes
Because people use it to get high.  And in the news paper reports  A man found dead in his holding cell at Crownpoint Detention center after consuming two bottles of hand sanitizer and some prescription medication.
And the signs in the parking lot at the grocery store say “Help our neighborhood.  Do not give to the panhandlers.”
And you must walk the gauntlet of beggars to get into the store and then you must walk it again to get out.  You with your full shopping cart, piled with bags.  But you can point to the sign and say “No I am not supposed to give you money.”
I have this necklace.  I need $20 gas money.  It is always for gas for the pick up to drink.
And even the man who works at the meat counter at Basha’s market tells the stumbling man who reeks of alcohol , YOU are not hungry.  You need to go home.
In the grocery store there is spam, aisles of spam piled high, so many different kinds of spam and my husband thinks of Monty Python and I think we used to eat spam when I was a kid.
And cow food and horse feed and goat food and sheep feed.
A bag of parrot food?  But no birdseed for my feeder.
And they sell empty burlap bags here and I like that, think I might buy one as soon as I know what I want it for or maybe just get it because I will find a use and my grandmother used to use them though I can’t remember what for. 
They call us Belegana (or that is what is sounds like) so I stand out with my full shopping cart, a foreigner.
I roll the name around on my tongue, not sure how I like it.  The sound is nice but I am not sure of the meaning yet.
Yes it is dry here and hot in the middle of the day but cool in the mornings and the evenings.
The moon is full now and the sky so clear.  Huge and blue by day and when the sun sets the Mesa is orange fire and cones of
White  sun stretch out across blue sky and you  know where the stylized designs for the sun come from in Native American Art.
And rainbows too reach across the sky.
I walk in the mesa after a day and night of pounding rain and I stoop to pick up  glass.  Smooth bits of glass like beach glass, mostly green bits and the smaller ones are smoother and I realize that the desert sand like the beach sand can smooth the glass, glass that comes from sand.  Even here in the dessert washed by rain and smoothed by sand and there is a connection for me who loves the beach here where there is no beach but perhaps there was once an ocean. I am learning the land.
And there another piece and another.  And I know the glass comes from bottles broken up here in the Mesa where they come to drink in this land that is dry.
But I collect the glass the tiniest pieces that are smooth and I have something I can begin to collect and something that is mine, something that is me.  Mesa glass like beach glass.
My pockets are full and my pants sag with bits of glass and rock until I am  startled by rattling sound and think Rattlesnake! when I realize it is the glass, mesa glass rattling in my pocket.
Makes me laugh.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Our new Home and the things we carry with us


The things we carry with us (or not).

Dust form the old home.

Mouse poop???

The keys to the house of a good friend. 

The directions to the new garage door opener, the one in PA.

Fancy pants cloths and heels..for the dessert?

NO flyswatter.

Enough warm cloths? (who knew it got this cold in the dessert?)

And I can't find the spaghetti strainer anywhere.  A resourceful student suggests hammering nails into a plastic container to make holes.


And is it really possible to get lost in a three bedroom house all on one floor?  I walk around in circles.  And which shoes did I designate as indoor and which are for outdoor?    I give up and who cares if a little red dirt is all over the house.


The very biggest advice anyone can give us and most often given without soliciting advice:  DO NOT DRIVE AFTER DARK.  It seems everyone has hit a free range cow at least once.


It all seems very foreign and barren and beautiful all at once.  Much to discover and explore.


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

On the Move


We are in the crazy state of cleaning, sorting, throwing away and selling(big garage sale a success). AND PACKING.  

Steve and I move to Chinle Arizona on September 1.  We expect to arrive on September 7 and hope that are movers have arrived then too.

Our new contact info:

karen@karenlynnwilliams.com

Mailing address: PO Box 1932 Chinle, AZ 86503


House Street #: 2085.1 Codetalker's Lane


House Phone #: 928 674 8296


I can still be reached at: kwilliams@chatham.edu and kwilliams@setonhill.edu.  I will continue to teach on line for these programs. 


Updates to come soon.





Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Back from Europe






It was an exciting month in France and Spain with friends and lots of art, adventure, great food and a little relaxation.  And to top it off a grandson, Ethan Jon born in Taiwan while we were away.  Hard to believe that Peter from When Africa Was Home is a dad.  Harder to believe I am a grandmother!


Ethan gets a bath and Grandma makes it to the top of the rock climbing course AND to the tope of the mountain in Spain.  An 8 hour hike to the peak was spectacular.

All that and a return to Pittsburgh with three weeks to pack for our move to the Navajo Reservation in Chinle Arizona.  Check back for more about our new home and life, new works in progress, new address and email.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Something Like a Poem




In early May I took 12 students from the Chatham University graduate program in creative writing to Spain.  We stayed at Hort de Gloria near the village of Sella about 40 minutes from Alicante.  We hiked and rock climbed, kayaked in the sea, visited Grenada and worked on the organic farm.

We decided that pruning olive trees was much like writing a poem; a lot of hard work, all about paring down,  and shape.  You choose your cuts carefully.  Ultimately you have trimmed through the mess of branches and leaves to something that will yield a more satisfying harvest. Always a work in progress.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Travels in France



My husband, Steve, and I just returned from travels in France.  For much of our trip we stayed in Gramat with friend and illustrator, Catherine Stock ( check her website for rentals and much more).  The Lot region of France, just north of Toulouse, is lovely and relaxing, full of farm houses, hundreds of years old and tiny villages sporting stone houses with red tile roofs.  The town of Rignac is 900 years old and the church dates back to the 12th century.
Catherine's cottage, named Le Tramizal, her summer cottage, barn studio, loft and gallery all make for a whimsical and inspiring get- away, everything one would image an artist and children's book illustrator in France could offer.   Lots of material for my poetry and travel writing needs and good times with a creative and talented friend.

High points of the trip:
Hiking in the area(and getting lost) especially to Rocamadour, the old mills along the river.

Stone walls, tiny red poppies and collecting fossils.  
My answer to my husband about a suitcase full of rocks?  
Cheap souvenirs I will treasure.

Visit to prehistoric cave paintings at Peche Merle. I have wanted to see these stories in stone since I was in elementary school and the grandeur and mystery did not disappoint.  I felt the shivers of emotion. 

Saint- Cirq-Lapopie.  The cafe and peeking at shops.

Bicycling on the quay in Bordeaux after spending the night in a chateau in nearby vineyards.


Breakfast of crepes in the square in St. Emilion.

Figure drawing class in Catherine's studio.  I overcame the intimidation of using my unpracticed drawing and painting abilities in the presence of artists and enjoyed myself immensely.  Creating visual art is a lot like writing poetry for me.

The Musee d'Orsay in Paris and standing in front of Monet, Picasso, Manet, Van Gogh, Serusier, Gaugin, Toulouse-Lautrec and others. Too rich to take in all at once.

The food. Catherine is a wonderful cook.  The Rocamadour cheese, foie gras, the wine, the cafes in Paris.










Walking everywhere in Paris.   Along the Seine, the Champs Elysees, our own little rue Le Cler where our hotel was full of fruit sellers and patisseries and cheese shops.  The booksellers and the boats on the famed river in that city.