Out with the old and in with the new….

Today is the last day of 2011.  Can you believe it?  Each year, no matter how the individual days drag, each year seems to go by faster and faster.  Today we, Camillo and I, reflect; reflect on the good and the bad of this past year.  I know many friends and family that look back on the old year after passing over into the new.   To me you are taking a big chance by doing this, taking a chance of dragging negative Karma into the new year.  I like to reflect on the old while in the old and enter the new ready for it to be better, grander, luckier, shinier, NEW. 
For the past week I have been going back through ‘Flowers’ reading post I’ve written this year and last.  I especially like to read the comments and to remember friends I have made through blogging.  This process helps me to remember little and big things that have happened this year, to make note of changes, taking a moment to grieve and to celebrate and to put it all behind. 
While I go through the emotional review, Camillo spends hours, days, I don’t know maybe even weeks, putting together a 6 or 7 page spreadsheet:  linking categories, pages, columns, color coding, adding up all the ways that this year has exceeded or come in under budget.   We came in under in the eating out category, and over in costs of maintaining the house in Friburgo AND the apartment in Rio.  Of course, the ‘exceeds’ out number the ‘comes in under’ and on the bottom line we are only R$40K over income.  In his over the top, optimistic view of the world, he doesn’t seem to be fazed by this number,  and I am just happy that I didn’t hear about it tomorrow.  I can put it behind me starting today. 
Now, after all this reflecting and reviewing, I am ready to don a pretty blouse and dig around for some underused jewelry and to go out and have dinner at a friend’s house within the condominium, drink some toasts to “out with old” and “in with the new” come home safe, and sleep knowing next year will be brighter and NEWER. 

Y’all have a great and safe New Year’s Eve.  See you back here for a new year of thoughts and ideas.  Hugs and kisses from Brasil.

Blogging ?

I have been reading through past posts and finding lots of spelling / word usage / punctuation errors.  I need an editor (a person not a program).  Yesterday I received a comment on a post I made last week and went back to read what I'd said and found a couple glaring errors.... so I pulled the post back onto Window's live writer - made corrections and re-posted.  I have done this before with no problem but this time a copy of the original post was put out of sequence and on yesterday's date.... another one of those 'flukes' that I don't understand.  If you read the original one, just ignore this duplication.

Signs of the times....

I have been at Patty’s for a week now.  Coming from Adrian and my sister’s household to Patty’s holds the same level of culture shock as when in Brasil Camillo and I go from the quiet and serenity of Friburgo to Rio with its chaos and confusion.   The schedule here is total craziness.  Schedules for two adults (three jobs), schedules for before school study groups and after school training activities, volleyball practice, volleyball games, Saturday tryouts for club volley, a weeknight trip to the mall to shop for a homecoming dress, and amidst it all, meals – did I mention homework assignments? Everyone is in their beds by 9 and up by five to do it all over again. 

Needless to say I have had difficulty with the sleep schedule more than anything else because Camillo and I pretty much adhere to a bed at midnight - up at 8 type of schedule, with maybe 3 or 4 parties or dinners A YEAR mixed into the quiet pace of three sit-down meals at home, a choice of going to the gym and to the grocery store for supplies, a few hours of TV a day, and playing on the computer or reading to pass the rest of the daytime hours.  If you ever wonder why you don’t hear from your kids regularly you have to go and live in their homes for at least a few weeks....become immersed in their lives,  then you will have a complete understanding that this silence isn’t about them not loving you....  but is a sign of the times.

 

It is possible that my days when the kids were young were of similar chaos, but I don’t remember them like this. When Pat and Marty were in high school, we lived about 3/4 of a mile from the school and they rode their bikes to school – no hauling back and forth or fitting my schedule to theirs. Okay, I might not have been the best parent, totally involved in their activities as parents seem to be today, but I got up and went to a job every day, bought groceries and cooked dinner each night, and like my daughter, kept my own home and gardens cleaned. When they were on the swim team, I made their home competitions but not the away.  I thought what parents did was to provide a bed and cloths, and a place to study, good foods and quiet times and the rest was up to the kids to figure out.   The way of those times.

 

Yes, Marissa is a highly motivated teenager. Giving her as much support as possible is the right thing to do.   I am just saying that life today is a grueling list of things to do and activities to get past.   Just saying, thank God there is only one teenager in this household and for one or two months a year I can step in and be a part of the chaos (and then step out again). 

Signs of the times - 2

“Home is where the heart is”  and other notes

I know that I am not of the norm.  Living outside the United States, in a foreign country keeps me living outside the average lifestyle of Americans.  There are people, though, that are born, live, and will die in the same town.  Their family and friends are close.  Their lives circle around the dynamics of one community.  You could consider them the lucky ones but in these times they are also the exception not the rule.  

During the 50s and 60s and maybe even into the 70s this live-in-one-place life was still the norm.  It has slowly become the standard for families to split up, move apart, to live great distances from each other.  I was going to use my family as an example of this slow change in family dynamics, but really it has not ever fit into the norm.  For our family, starting in 1944 and 1946, my two oldest sister were born in two different states while my father was still in the Army.  They may correct me at any time but I am sure at least that they were not born in our ‘hometown’ of Adrian.   Judy and I were born in ‘48, ‘50 in Adrian, Michigan.  Then the two brothers in (or around) Kingman, Arizona and the last, the baby, in Cottonwood, Arizona.  My family lived in Cottonwood and area until I was a freshman in high school then we all seemed to gravitate back to Adrian. 

When I married and had my children, my husband and I lived in Morenci, Michigan; moving all of 20 miles away and only living there for 3 years.  Then we lived in 3 cities in 3 years:  Phoenix, Virginia Beach, Dallas, and finally landed in Houston in the mid 70s.  I left there in 2003 for Brasil.  Twenty-eight years in one place, a miracle.  In a few more months, I will have been in Brasil for 9 years.

My daughter and her children still live in Houston,  my son is in Phoenix, my mother is now back in Adrian living with Candy, one of the ‘older’ sisters.  Candy is one of the lucky ones, having lived in Adrian for the past 45 years.  All her children live within a max 4 hour trip home.  I also have a sister in Virginia, one in S. Carolina, a brother in Colorado, and a brother in Prescott and a sister in the Phoenix area.  Where all of their children and grandchildren are is a list too long for me to type into one sentence.   You can start to see my dilemma for where I would call ‘home’ or to define that place as ‘where the heart is’. 

The longer I live in Brasil the more transparent the concept of HOME becomes.  Slowly, I am moving away from who I was, and what my life was when living in Houston.   Friends have died, left or lost their spouses, remarried or just moved away.  The large group that I used to meet to dance has disappeared, the ones left have gotten old..... OLDER – sorry!  Not me, of course.  This visit to Houston I have felt almost disoriented trying to fit myself back into the feelings of being HOME.  Shopping hasn’t seemed as much fun, I’m not driven to see and eat everything.... well that’s not completely true – but creative license allows me some wiggle room.  Now I find myself visiting Patty’s home versus returning home and have to conclude that this is just another sign of the times.

The Jardineiro

Sometimes the only way to get a thought out of your head is to put it down on paper.  A few years ago this would have meant to take out a pad of paper, a journal or even just a scrap to be tucked in a book and a pen, and write down your thoughts.  When I first left the states and came to live in Brasil I wrote often in my journal.  Now I open ‘flowers’ and post.  Under the label ‘Culture Shock’ I’ve written about things in my new life that contrasted with the old.  Things that had to be thought out and resolved, or not.  And if I did it well enough you might find it interesting, thinking about what I’ve written and what I didn’t say, the blank space that you can fill in with your own experiences and you might spend some time thinking.  These are my favorite posts.  Here are more words that need to be written.

 

The day after I arrived back from the USA this November we received notice that Manuel, our gardener, had died.  Manuel had worked for Camillo practically since the house in Nova Friburgo was first built, nearly 25 years.  He kept our garden immaculate.  He was paid a lump sum amount for the month and had the freedom to come when he needed to, to keep the gardens to his and Camillo’s standards.  He arrived most weekdays at 6:30am and left around 9:30am.  He often came through on Saturday and Sunday to make sure the flower pots were watered and the trash was taken down the hill.  He brought me orchids and other flowers from the forest. He never looked directly at us.  He never took anything away from the house that he hadn’t ask first.  In twenty-five years, he never made assumptions of friendship; in his own mind he was the ‘jardineiro’ and Camillo was the patron.  The garden that we enjoy so much is the fruit of his labors. He was a part of the fabric of our lives.  He was an alcoholic.

 

Ironically, when the floods and landslides came through here last January, his little house had just been completed. It took him nearly 10 years to finish the house. Rushing water did not destroy it, but moved it a bit off the foundation. Camillo and I help to pay to have a large retainer wall to be put beneath the house. He was going to fill in between the house and the wall and put in a garden area. He survived the floods. Ironically, on the Sunday he died, he began to drink as he sometime would. Drink until unable to walk or to talk. He made his way home along the dark dirt road and either lay down to sleep, or fell, or stumbled; no one really knows. It began to rain hard. The ditch filled with mud and water and he drowned as he lay. Not an accident, but a tragedy, a waste of life that could have been avoided. I almost said prevented, but it was really a tragedy waiting. In all of his loneliness, he would never have imagined how much space he filled in our lives. We will miss seeing him in our garden.

 

Back ‘home’

It is time to write about my return to Brasil.  I have been here for a week and am just starting to get over my usual identity – cultural – confusion, a minor crisis.  After driving in the US for two months; wide open roads, huge parking lots and traffic rules (basically) followed, and shopping where more than one cart (or person) can pass down an isle at a time, and being where no one walks on the streets - even in downtown Houston, coming back to Brasil is always a shock to my system. 

This last week was an extra challenge to drive and to walk in Nova Friburgo.  Before I left the streets were already clogged with cars and people but now, after the sense of space you get in the US, I’ve felt claustrophobic.  In Brasil, everyone receives a 13th salary, an extra months wages, in November / December.  Just in time for Christmas shopping and paying year end taxes.  It is normal for there to be a lot of people on the streets in December, but it seems that this year it is extremely bad.  A byproduct of the good economy?  Whether on foot or in the car, darting and dashing to avoid those who seem to stop for no reason, talk on their cells in the middle of the sidewalk, park wherever it is convenient for them.

The election of the last mayor (Prefeito) was based on his promise to improve the transit in Friburgo.  The government changed some street directions, made a few more one-ways with parking only on one side.  More parking lots with exorbitant hourly rates, actually with 30 minute rates when you can’t do anything in less than 1 hour, have popped out and, last but not least, they hired a consulting firm – a private transit company – to find the solutions that they have not been able to find and still be re-elected.  But this last week it was abundantly clear that nothing is solving the problems.    Cars were still double and triple parked, flashers flashing because everyone knows that if you put your flashers on it is okay to park anywhere you want and block all other transit.   My 15 minutes from the house to my appointment took well over an hour – not to mentioned the drive home.   Yes, I could take the bus, the one that was stuck in the traffic right in front of me..... The one that is so full of people coming in from the countryside that there was room only to hang from the rafters .... The bus / company that is owned  by the mayor and his family? 

Yes, I could.   I am not sure though that this would help me feel better during this transition period between the US and Brasil.  I am suffering culture shock – plain and simple.

Signs of the times – 3

Home?Town

I am going to try and write what I started out to write when writing  'Home is Where the heart is'.  The thoughts that I need to put down have been in my head for weeks now, but vague, without that spark of inspiration that I sometimes get when thinking about a topic.  My intended topic was the changes I’d seen in Adrian and, as you can tell, I got majorly distracted when I started the post last week.  I will try to do better staying on topic this time around.  

Back to Adrian. 

I spent two weeks in Adrian at the end of September and it felt like a visit not a return home; these are the feelings that trigged my last post.  Even though born in Adrian, I only lived in the area for 9 years or so as a semi-adult.  Returning to my city of birth during my freshman year of high school, and leaving when Patty was 3 (Sept. ‘64 until fall of ‘73).  I don’t have many memories of these years.  My high school years were spent in a hustle of work and school; no dates, no dances, one basket ball game, no making trouble – just the years passing without note.  And immediately after high school my early married years spent in Morenci were about taking care of the babies not thinking about hometowns, belonging and other complex thoughts that I have today. 

During this time, my perception was that Adrian was a good sized city.  Only after I left and went to progressively larger cities,  Phoenix, Dallas, Houston, Rio de Janeiro, did I start to see Adrian as a small town.  And now I see it as a small town that is getting even smaller.  Just to see if there were any facts to back up this change in perspective, I Googled for population history of the area (if you use Google as a verb is it capitalized?) and found that yes it is shrinking.  The population loss is not great unless you look at how a town would normally grow as families grow and multiply.  The numbers for Adrian when compared to the national averages have been pretty stagnant since the 60s. 

 

	Adrian #	Adrian %	National %
1960	20,347	10.60%	18.50%
1970	20,382	0.20%	13.30%
1980	21,276	4.40%	11.50%
1990	22,097	3.90%	9.80%
2000	21,574	−2.4%	13.20%
2010	21,133	−2.0%	9.70%

This could be from the area going from farm to industrial to.... loss of industry?  There are two universities and one junior college but after graduation the young people leave for jobs in larger cities.  Now this is all my conjecture – but what is there to hold young people and their future families?  For that matter what is there that would draw the young people back as they age and begin to retire?  This is probably the better question.Adrian would be a wonderful size town to retire in if it had a few amenities; a place to go dancing, a golf course close in, coffee shops and tea rooms to meet for breakfast.    These are a few of the things I see retired people do in other cities.

Adrian Michigan - Fall colors VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

When last in Adrian I saw a small charming town surrounded by natural beauty, the downtown empty of businesses, without even one nice restaurant but with one downtown theater (which is wonderful) and a couple of bars and a few cafes.  The outer streets are lined with fast food, with one very badly maintained shopping center on the outskirts.  When looking for entertainment or good food my sister and family drive to Tecumseh (under 9,000) or to Toledo.  Why does Tecumseh, a town half the size of Adrian, have nice restaurants and Adrian doesn’t?

One thing in Adrian that really impresses me is The old library, now a museum of local history.  The displays are interesting, the interior of the building impressive.  The only thing I can say that needs to be changed is that it needs to be bigger.  Maybe there could even be more old buildings used to expand the displays.  The manufacturing history of Adrian is interesting and I could see one of the now empty buildings housing a display telling the story of the Organs or the making of just one of the original cars.  I can see families bringing their young children to Adrian for a weekend of local history.        

Adrian Michigan - Historical Museum VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Of course that would mean more hotels, ..... a train from Ann Arbor to Toledo .... organized transit .... but then maybe Adrian would no longer be a small, sleepy little town and the families that have stayed just for those characteristics would have to find another hometown.....  And in the end it goes against my nature (that wants to fix everything) that I have to admit that the loss of work, the exodus of families is just another sign of the times in America that has no easy fix.

Signs of the times - 2

“Home is where the heart is”  and other notes

I know that I am not of the norm.  Living outside the United States, in a foreign country keeps me living outside the average lifestyle of Americans.  There are people, though, that are born, live, and will die in the same town.  Their family and friends are close.  Their lives circle around the dynamics of one community.  You could consider them the lucky ones but in these times they are also the exception not the rule.  

During the 50s and 60s and maybe even into the 70s this live-in-one-place life was still the norm.  It has slowly become the standard for families to split up, move apart, to live great distances from each other.  I was going to use my family as an example of this slow change in family dynamics, but really it also has not ever fit into the normal either.  For our family, starting in 1944 and 1946, my two oldest sister were born in two different states while my father was still in the Army.  They may correct me at any time but I am sure at least that they were not born in our ‘hometown’ of Adrian.   Then Judy and I were born in ‘48, ‘50 in Adrian, Michigan.  Then the two brothers in (or around) Kingman, Arizona and the last, the baby in Cottonwood, Arizona.  My family lived in Cottonwood and area until I was a freshman in high school then we all seemed to gravitate back to Adrian. 

When I married and had my children, my husband and I lived in Morenci, Michigan; moving all of 20 miles away and only living there for 3 years.  Then we lived in 3 cities in 3 years:  Phoenix, Virginia Beach, Dallas, and finally landed in Houston in the mid 70s.  I left there in 2003 for Brasil.  Twenty-eight years in one place, a miracle.  In a few more months, I will have been in Brasil for 9 years.

My daughter and her children still live in Houston,  my son is in Phoenix, my mother is now back in Adrian living with Candy, one of the ‘older’ sisters.  Candy is one of the lucky ones, having lived in Adrian for the past 45 years.  All her children live within a max 4 hour trip home.  I also have a sister in Virginia, one in S. Carolina, a brother in Colorado, and a brother in Prescott and a sister in the Phoenix area.  Where all of their children and grandchildren are is a list too long for me to type into one sentence.   You can start to see my dilemma for where I would call ‘home’ or to define that place as ‘where the heart is’. 

The longer I live in Brasil the more transparent the concept of HOME becomes.  Slowly, I am moving away from who I was, and what my life was when living in Houston.   Friends have died, left or lost their spouses, remarried or just moved away.  The large group that I used to meet to dance has disappeared, the ones left have gotten old..... OLDER – sorry!  Not me, of course.  This visit to Houston I have felt almost disoriented trying to fit myself back into the feelings of being HOME.  Shopping hasn’t seemed as much fun, I’m not driven to see and eat everything.... well that’s not completely true – but creative license allows me some wiggle room.  Now I find myself visiting Patty’s home versus returning home and have to conclude that this is just another sign of the times.

Signs of the times....

I have been at Patty’s for a week now.  Coming from Adrian and my sister’s household to Patty’s holds the same level of culture shock as when in Brasil Camillo and I go from the quiet and serenity of Friburgo to Rio with its chaos and confusion.   The schedule here is total craziness.  Schedules for two adults (three jobs), schedules for before school study groups and after school training activities, volley ball practice, volley ball games, Saturday tryouts for club volley, a weeknight trip to the mall to shop for a homecoming dress, and amidst it all, meals – did I mention homework assignments? Everyone is in their beds by 9 and up by five to do it all over again. 

Needless to say, I have had difficulty with the sleep schedule more than anything else because Camillo and I pretty much adhere to a bed at midnight - up at 8 type of schedule, with maybe 3 or 4 parties or dinners A YEAR mixed into the quiet pace of three sit-down meals at home, a choice of going to the gym and to the grocery store for supplies, a few hours of TV a day, and playing on the computer or reading to pass the rest of the daytime hours. If you ever wonder why you don’t hear from your kids regularly, you have to go and live in their homes for at least a few weeks, become immersed in their lives, and then you will have a complete understanding that this silence isn’t about them not loving you but is a sign of the times.

It is possible that my days when the kids were young were of similar chaos, but I don’t remember them like this.  When Pat and Marty were in high school in Houston, we lived about 3/4 of a mile from the school and they road their bikes to school – no hauling back and forth or fitting my schedule to theirs.  Okay, I might not have been the best parent, totally involved in their activities as parents seem to be today, but I got up and went to a job every day, bought groceries and cooked dinner each night, and like my daughter kept my own home and gardens cleaned. When they were on the swim team, I made their home competitions but not the away.  I thought what parents did was to provide a bed and cloths, and a place to study, good foods and quiet times and the rest was up to the kids to figure out.   The way of those times.

Yes, Marissa is a highly motivated teenager. Giving her as much support as possible is the right thing to do.   I am just saying that life today is a grueling list of things to do, and activities to get past.   Just saying, thank God there is only one teenager in this household and for one or two months a year I can step in and be a part of the chaos (and then step out again).

Proud to be an American, Part 11

The plan for the mini vacation that Camillo and I took here in the USA was a drive from Washington DC to Poughkeepsie NY,  then a three day drive up the Hudson valley, then across to Lake Erie and along the Lake to Adrian.  Pretty ambitious when you consider the miles involved.  We ended up reaching Poughkeepsie, spending one day in that area and then heading straight across Pennsylvania and into Ohio and up a few miles north into Adrian – except for one small exertion into the farmland, all by expressway.  The initial plan also included lots of fall color, a few waterfalls and the tasting of a few New York Wines.  It ended up that fall color was just beginning - not a disappointment by the way, the variation of faded greens, gold and touches of reds was beautiful -  the first planned waterfalls were closed for maintenance, the vineyards we located were closed for a special function and the other’s restaurant was only open for weekends this time of year, and I ended up with a really bad goldenrod allergy attack.  Don’t get me wrong the goldenrod that lined the highways, edged the farm fields and rimmed the forest is really beautiful, but my head locked up, gripped me, blurred my eyes – shortened my temper.   The shortened temper causing more problem then the rest, of course.  

While in the Poughkeepsie area we ate in one really good bar, Camillo ate a prime rib sandwich and a wine, and I a hamburger and a coke (designated driver).  The owners were friendly and helpful, giving us good food and instructions to a decent hotel.  The next morning it was raining but we drove up to Hyde Park to visit the home of FDR and their neighbors the Vanderbilt's.  The instead of finding a hotel for the night we backtracked and finding a freeway, headed west. 

Family home of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt:

  

   

  

Vanderbilt Mansion:

    

 

Proud to be an American....

Camillo and I travel back and forth to the USA, a lot, but have not really taken a trip cross-country since when we lived in Houston and then those trips were pretty much limited to Texas.  Since living in Brasil, some 9 years now, we fly into Houston, visit family and friends, fly to visit my mother and then fly home.  There has been no real sense of the US, its size, its people and the changes that are occurring.  We have traveled in Brasil, in France and in Italy more often and for longer periods.  This trip I wanted to show Camillo the real America. 

Looking back over my photos from the drive from Washington DC to Adrian, Michigan – by way of the Hudson Valley, I could feel, again, the lump in my throat that rose up  when we exited the subway station in Washington and saw the flags flying high along the roof tops, over the doors and window, and all along the sidewalks.  The lump attacking again, and again as we viewed the monuments that line the National Mall; as we admired the circle of flags at the base of the Washington Monument and while standing beside the beautiful Vietnam Women’s Memorial, and as I turned to watch the long line of mourners passing beside the Vietnam memorial, stopping to touch the name of a loved one as they moved slowly along.   Was it the cool, whet wind blowing that made my eyes overflow with tears or feeling, in that moment,  so proud to be an American?  

As we traveled Southwest to Northeast, passing through countryside filled with well maintained farms, small lakes, tall forests turning from muted greens to the bright colors of fall, and driving along grand highways, and even more, small curvy country roads, in my mind the pride I’d felt in my homeland persisted.  And by the time we arrived in Adrian the emotions had changed once more.  My thinking went from pride in the memorials we’d built to our heroes, to the wonder at the architecture that had stood the test of time and weather, to a renewal in my understanding that what makes The United States great is the heart of its people.  Their politeness, their willingness to go beyond duty to help, to guide, and their ability to show kindness to strangers.   This is what makes America strong

A Special thanks to the ‘volleyball goddess’ of Bethlehem, PA – who after finding us (completely) lost in an Allentown parking lot, our Google map having led us a merry chase, took one look at our exhausted faces said, “follow me” leading us to our destination instead of merely rattling off ‘go left, right, left...’ directions.   (There is that dratted lump again.)

And More:  The shuttle van driver in Rockville MD – the young man taking the long way around, off his route, to drop us at a drugstore, making sure we know how to get to the subway station from there, worrying that he needed to do more to make sure we were safe and on our way.   

And the night clerk in the Bethlehem hotel offering to order Pizza in for us, looking through her maps to find our next days route, asking other’s staying there to find us change for the laundry, offering a big smile to end our day. 

 

Many other bits and pieces of kindnesses that made our trip memorable.... thank you all.

        

A partial Story : For Mom

We left Friburgo last Wednesday, Rio on Thursday, arrived In Houston on Friday morning and was there just long enough to run through passport control and to catch a very early flight to Washington DC.  Washington’s Dulles airport is small but pretty disorganized.  We got the impression that as it has grown, new wings and buildings have been added without really anticipating the flow of passengers.  For example, we were offloaded out on the tarmac, then walked and walked, and walked and dare I say walked some more to get to baggage pickup and the kiosk said conveyor 5 – about 10 minutes later the speaker said, “Houston...... CO.....  #^#@&^ two.  You know how you can’t hear anything they say, but I started walking from one end to the other to see if the bags were coming in on two or five..... finally arrived about 20 minutes later on two..... Needless to say, the ground crew at Dulles needs some training. 

The rental car and a drive of about 45 minutes, and one (the first) miss direction from Google Maps put us at our Hotel in Rockville by 2pm.  A full 24 hours from the time we left the apartment in Rio.  After a quick shower, we walked to Rockville’s city center had lunch, called the hotel shuttle for a ride, and crashed for an evening in front of the TV.  Just like home.

First day:  Washington DC, the National Mall. 

   

   We walked from the Metro Center – over 3 blocks and down one – popping out  beside the treasury building.

  Camillo’s first comment, “At least its not flying the Chinese flag...yet!”

Walked past the white house, Camillo sat a few times while I went to take photos of the old federal building, .... etc..  In the end we only made it from the Washington Monument, past the WWII, the Korean War and the Vietnam memorials to the Lincoln memorial, and back but it was a good day and gave me a desire to go back for just Museums, maybe a capital tour. 

For Mom, the Lincoln Memorial in more detail.

     

It rained, I got a sunburn on my chin, our feet hurt pretty badly, lunch was too heavy – the monuments spectacular - a 30 minute trip back to the hotel via the metro train and we were in the hotel in front of the TV for the night.

Time to Travel....

This year Camillo and I are enjoying our 19th year together.  How did that happen?  Over the years there have been many things to argue about.  Oh yah, between two strong willed and stubborn people, there can be arguments about nearly everything.  But we found out right away that we can do two things in total accord: remodel homes and buy furniture, and travel together.  I guess that is really 3 things, remodeling homes being different that buying furniture and the accord coming from him often, capitulating to my opinions on how a house should feel when finished.... feelings being such a woman’s thing don’t you know. 

And travel; together we have made close to two trips a year for 19 years.  Often there has been repeats of destination having family and friends spread all over Europe, the USA and in South America, plus trips we have made together to just see something new.  Last year I started complaining that I knew Italy and France better than I know areas of the USA, and I wanted to start making some driving trips outside of the states where we have family..... so Camillo said pick a place..... You know that this is hard - there are so many places in the USA that are spectacular but I had to choose just one.

I chose to start in the Northeast, driving up the Hudson Valley.  It has taken nearly two years of discussion, delays, readjustments to timing and a change in a city to land - to get around to this trip, but today we leave for a 10 day drive through Maryland, Pennsylvania and New York State – finally landing in Adrian, Michigan to visit with my Mother.  All of this is new territory for both of us.   A few years back I drove from Houston to Virginia to Michigan and back with Marissa, crossing some of this area on the toll roads in Pennsylvania, and I enjoyed it - but we will try driving this new area using only state roads and back country roads, no reservations, no predetermined itinerary.

We will be looking for scenery, hopefully, we are not too early for fall color because that was our first objective.  We will land in Washington DC, take one day in the city to see at least the National Mall with its many memorials,  then drive north-by-northeast until we run into the Hudson valley.  Three to 4 days in the Hudson valley, visiting a winery and Hyde Park the only planned stops.  We have an idea of the route but not specifics.  The only specifics is that we need to be in Adrian by the 25th for a family barbeque.  Follow the trip with us, you will enjoy it.