tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85826737270839145692008-08-06T07:53:07.049-06:00THE GRAND ADVENTUREAUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-44020316185118650312008-07-01T13:55:00.000-06:002008-06-15T19:09:35.031-06:00Your Feedback<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">If you wish to leave a comment or want to contact me please do so here.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#33ccff;">(If your interest is primarily biographical, and you want to see what my early adventures were, be sure to scroll down to the bottom.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff0000;">ALL PHOTOS ON THIS SITE ARE <strong><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">COPYRIGHT</span> PROTECTED: </strong>Do not reproduce without my permission!</span>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-63169976646145087502008-06-15T18:44:00.007-06:002008-06-17T20:18:50.980-06:00Northern Hill Tribes, Vietnam<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SFW5jxCp2KI/AAAAAAAAA0A/Q6gLw4bSu5o/s1600-h/Thao+w+Red+Dao2-e.jpg"></a><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">MAY, 2008</span> <div><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Arial;">This photo depicts our guide, Thao showing staff at the Cao Son Ecolodge a digital photo she took of them when the cook's wife dressed in the traditional Red Dao dress of the village. Judy bought this dress for two million dong ($125). It took two years for the craftsman to embroider, and she walked four hours to our village on the chance we might buy it.</span><br /></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213035440601339906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SFhsHQaQmAI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/ZpUL4a15_sc/s400/Thao+w+Red+Dao2-e.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;">On this trip we started in Hanoi, but concentrated on the Northern Hill Tribes, going to several markets and ending up twenty miles from the Chinese border with special permission to be there. We were the only Westerners in an area populated primarily by Flower H'mong, but also twenty other ethnic minority groups, identifiable by their unique dress.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212278381105949266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/SFW7kmBEqlI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/RbiwfFVewVo/s400/Flower+Hmong+Women-e.jpg" border="0" /></span></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">For a more detailed account of our trip go to: </span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><a href="http://vietnamtrip2008.blogspot.com/">http://vietnamtrip2008.blogspot.com/</a></span></p>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-68219908705357825342007-11-24T12:19:00.000-07:002007-12-16T11:34:13.159-07:00Granada, Matagalpa & Esteli Nicaragua<div align="left"><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgJw4Sb-I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Mb8l0GQpuUA/s1600-h/Ortega+Billboard-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144623870196740066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" height="164" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgJw4Sb-I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/Mb8l0GQpuUA/s320/Ortega+Billboard-e.jpg" width="296" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Once again, Daniel Ortega is elected as President. </div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKg4ScAI/AAAAAAAAAsg/ET_g2YmJuco/s1600-h/Kitchen-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144623883081641986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="177" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKg4ScAI/AAAAAAAAAsg/ET_g2YmJuco/s320/Kitchen-e.jpg" width="291" border="0" /></a>Francisca's kitchen (a building separate from her mud and bamboo house).<br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2A-xhknQ3I/AAAAAAAAAsI/mt8AJnticxM/s1600-h/Granada-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143179795003556722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2A-xhknQ3I/AAAAAAAAAsI/mt8AJnticxM/s320/Granada-e.jpg" border="0" /></a> Sitting in white plastic chairs on the dirt floor of Francisca's yard with her six year old son, grandmother and chickens, mangy dog, and a curious cat we ate the lunch she hosted of tortillas, rice, beans and hard boiled eggs.<br /><br />Cathedral of Granada, originally built in 1583, but destroyed and rebuilt several times since.<br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKQ4Sb_I/AAAAAAAAAsY/OzRoeg2V10k/s1600-h/Dario+Granada-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144623878786674674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" height="188" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/R2VgKQ4Sb_I/AAAAAAAAAsY/OzRoeg2V10k/s320/Dario+Granada-e.jpg" width="286" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Dario Restaurant, named after Nicaragua's most famous poet, Rubin Dario.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#ff0000;">A more detailed account of this trip is on a companion blog:</span> </strong></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://nicaragua2007trip.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>http://nicaragua2007trip.blogspot.com/</strong></span></a></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-30861866849307598252007-11-17T09:33:00.001-07:002007-11-17T09:33:31.985-07:00AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-13130481140671037982007-11-11T21:24:00.000-07:002007-11-11T21:39:49.375-07:002007 Bangkok, Thailand<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWWfZUyKI/AAAAAAAAAcs/E46Jg6EcBVo/s1600-h/Castle+with+Clouds-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805982285154466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWWfZUyKI/AAAAAAAAAcs/E46Jg6EcBVo/s400/Castle+with+Clouds-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKfZUyHI/AAAAAAAAAcU/aSRU-I-L41E/s1600-h/Female+Statue-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805776126724210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKfZUyHI/AAAAAAAAAcU/aSRU-I-L41E/s320/Female+Statue-e.jpg" border="0" /></a> The first trip to Bangkok it was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">oppressively</span> hot and humid when I attempted to tour the palace. We took a cab there, but were intercepted by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tuk</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tuk</span> drivers who said the palace was closed over the noon hour. They wanted us to go with them to another tourist trap, and they would bring us back when the palace opened. I was sick from a shrimp salad the night before and I elected to go back to the hotel. It turned out to be a con -- the palace had, indeed, been open, but they wanted to divert us to retailers who paid them a kickback.<br /><br />The second trip to Bangkok we encountered the same con at ten in the morning (best to go early due to heat and crowds), but went on into the Palace. What a magnificent place! Gold leaf everywhere. This palace rivals any in the world I've seen for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">opulence</span> and grandeur. Its large enough to take the better part of a day to go through, and its worth it!<br /><br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKvZUyII/AAAAAAAAAcc/3yyNTezf9Hk/s1600-h/Gargoyle-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805780421691522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWKvZUyII/AAAAAAAAAcc/3yyNTezf9Hk/s320/Gargoyle-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWLPZUyJI/AAAAAAAAAck/aVlk1U3TMbE/s1600-h/Gargoyles-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805789011626130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfWLPZUyJI/AAAAAAAAAck/aVlk1U3TMbE/s320/Gargoyles-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfV5_ZUyFI/AAAAAAAAAcE/gNXCZbb8l8A/s1600-h/Castle+with+Clouds-e.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfV6fZUyGI/AAAAAAAAAcM/soKALYmvG2E/s1600-h/Elephant+Comp-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131805501248817250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfV6fZUyGI/AAAAAAAAAcM/soKALYmvG2E/s400/Elephant+Comp-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-43771869851325644072007-11-09T11:54:00.000-07:002007-12-29T12:01:43.060-07:002007 Saigon, Hoi An, Hue, Hanoi, Halong Bay VietnamIn Vietn<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe3_ZUyNI/AAAAAAAAAdE/t0PYGt50ME8/s1600-h/Ha+Long+Bay-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815353903794386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe3_ZUyNI/AAAAAAAAAdE/t0PYGt50ME8/s320/Ha+Long+Bay-e.jpg" border="0" /></a>am it seems a lot goes on by boat: fishing, transport, a place to live, a tourist attraction. The photo of the two women is on the Mekong Delta, where women were well represented among the Viet Cong. These days few Vietnamese are old enough to remember the "American" war. In this photo you will notice the gloves. They are to prevent getting a tan -- and thereby looking dark like a peasant.<br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4PZUyOI/AAAAAAAAAdM/J0rshPUHw_k/s1600-h/Fishing-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815358198761698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4PZUyOI/AAAAAAAAAdM/J0rshPUHw_k/s320/Fishing-e.jpg" border="0" /></a> The most amazing thing about their use of motor bikes is what they carry on them. Whole families cram on one bike with Dad driving, and in front of him one of the kids. Then, sometimes standing on the seat with their hands on Dad’s shoulders is a second child, often no more than three years old. Then comes Mom on the back, who may be holding an infant, who is most likely sound asleep! In the countryside the other loads carried on the bikes can be any type of produce, usually heaped on in big bundles. We saw cages of live ducks, chickens, pigs, and puppies (in the North they eat dogs) all on the back of motor bikes on the way to market. We even saw a young water buffalo hog-tied to the back of a bike, and a few miles later a cow strapped on the same way. On a closer look it was clear both were still alive, even though their heads were tied less than a foot off the ground. I would think their meat would be tainted by the fear (and consequential adrenaline) those animals endure during their ride. The Humane Society would be horrified! We frequently were driving in the country side, sometimes for three hours at a time, so I have many photos of the motor bikes loads.<br /><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4fZUyPI/AAAAAAAAAdU/PFNasZwUBS4/s1600-h/Bike+Family.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815362493729010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4fZUyPI/AAAAAAAAAdU/PFNasZwUBS4/s320/Bike+Family.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4vZUyQI/AAAAAAAAAdc/0c_YqTwb1Vo/s1600-h/Bike+&+Buffalo-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131815366788696322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Rzfe4vZUyQI/AAAAAAAAAdc/0c_YqTwb1Vo/s320/Bike+%26+Buffalo-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeU_ZUyLI/AAAAAAAAAc0/RzNHTquTzUQ/s1600-h/Manderins-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131814752608372914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeU_ZUyLI/AAAAAAAAAc0/RzNHTquTzUQ/s400/Manderins-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I found the people more willing to have their photos taken than in most other places I’ve been. I rarely had someone tell me not to take their photo. They often wanted no other compensation than to see the digital preview on the back of my camera, and even sometimes said, "Thank you." when I took their picture. I have a lot of red, beetlenut smiles from old ladies, and kids especially clowned and crowded around us, their little faces staring in my lens. A large percentage of the population speaks at least a modicum of English, as it is taught in the schools and is viewed as an international opportunity. The Vietnamese language has several tonalities and has a quality to it like singing, although this can also become a high pitched screech with women in the markets. I found the Vietnamese more willing to engage with foreigners, and "Where are you from?" wasn’t necessarily a come-on to buy something. I had a group of eleven year old school girls practice their English on me, and request I sing them a song. I sang them "Happy Birthday" (it happened to be Cooper’s birthday that day), and they sang along with me, followed by their rendition of "Farmer in the Dell". Just as they were going to sing me a Vietnamese song they were called away by their teacher. I think the fact that this old man was lurking around the school yard raised less suspicion in their country than it would in ours. As a foreigner I could get away with odd behavior.<br /><br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeVPZUyMI/AAAAAAAAAc8/blffgwje7gA/s1600-h/School+Girls-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131814756903340226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzfeVPZUyMI/AAAAAAAAAc8/blffgwje7gA/s400/School+Girls-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">For a more detailed description of this trip & lots of cool photos go to:</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><a href="http://vietnamtrip2007.blogspot.com/">http://vietnamtrip2007.blogspot.com</a></span></p>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-72321277714201333572007-11-08T22:54:00.000-07:002007-11-11T22:31:26.597-07:002006 Solola, Chichicastenango, GuatemalaThe mark<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3fPZUyCI/AAAAAAAAAbs/WPBxCQyWDUo/s1600-h/Woman+w+Baby-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716516585883682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3fPZUyCI/AAAAAAAAAbs/WPBxCQyWDUo/s320/Woman+w+Baby-e.jpg" border="0" /></a>et in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Chichicastenango</span> was all that you might expect of a Mayan market. The night before and morning of market day (Thursdays & Sundays), people from outlying villages come into town walking with heavy loads strapped to their foreheads with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mecapals</span>, or balanced atop their heads. Some arrive by "chicken bus", or standing in the back of Toyota pickups, or walking miles on foot. They then set up plastic tarps, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ger</span>-rigged booths for their wares, encompassing not only the square but the surrounding streets for 2-3 blocks in every direction. Their wares were a mixture of what tourists would want: belts, shawls, hand woven table cloths and runners, pillows, shirts, skirts, and lots of embroidery. There were also masks, Mayan "antiques", knives, dolls, and curios. In addition, the majority of the market catered to the local people with farm produce: lemons, corn, peanuts, live chickens and turkeys, as well as plastic buckets, rope, machetes, cook ware, wood burning stoves, and butchered but unrefrigerated meat. There was a man giving a demonstration of a local cure, showing diagrams of internal organs, and feeding water to a live turtle. He waved off my photography, as a clearly didn't want to cater to anyone but the locals.<br /><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3gfZUyDI/AAAAAAAAAb0/ATcPZnPVvH8/s1600-h/Baby+Bundle-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716538060720178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3gfZUyDI/AAAAAAAAAb0/ATcPZnPVvH8/s320/Baby+Bundle-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3g_ZUyEI/AAAAAAAAAb8/V5D4PFYZEG0/s1600-h/2+street+girls-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716546650654786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="181" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3g_ZUyEI/AAAAAAAAAb8/V5D4PFYZEG0/s320/2+street+girls-e.jpg" width="239" border="0" /></a> There are 12 million people in Guatemala, of which 8 million are children, and only 1 million make enough money and are literate enough to file a tax return. There are 22 indigenous languages, and one in five people cannot speak Spanish. The primary language in the Highlands, where I was, is K'iche. I read a report, published in 2001, which said that 6 million people live in poverty, and among the Maya three of every four are impoverished, with a 70% illiteracy rat4e. Poverty in this part of the world means they live on less then $2 per day.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3MvZUyBI/AAAAAAAAAbk/eAkrlkshR6E/s1600-h/Guatemala+Comp-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130716198758303762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzP3MvZUyBI/AAAAAAAAAbk/eAkrlkshR6E/s400/Guatemala+Comp-e.jpg" border="0" /></a>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-47290365534622135932007-11-07T20:59:00.000-07:002007-11-08T12:08:26.475-07:002006 St. Petersburg, Susdal, Moscow, Russia<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSlvZUx6I/AAAAAAAAAas/zZQB3Lp6aOo/s1600-h/Hermitage+Vases-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130324102603917218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSlvZUx6I/AAAAAAAAAas/zZQB3Lp6aOo/s400/Hermitage+Vases-e.jpg" border="0" /></a>The Russia we saw was colorfully painted domes, gold leaf statuary, murals, amazing ceilings, restored palaces and museums. Originally built by Catherine the Great, at the Hermitage Museum alone there were 2.7 million exhibits in 1059 rooms, including the works of Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Monet, Cezanne, Picasso and Matisse. <br /><br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSl_ZUx7I/AAAAAAAAAa0/i8WMcOfyP-g/s1600-h/Country+Church-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130324106898884530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSl_ZUx7I/AAAAAAAAAa0/i8WMcOfyP-g/s400/Country+Church-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSC_ZUx5I/AAAAAAAAAak/t-n6LxGCqLU/s1600-h/Folk+Dancers+Composite2-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130323505603463058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKSC_ZUx5I/AAAAAAAAAak/t-n6LxGCqLU/s400/Folk+Dancers+Composite2-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKRn_ZUx4I/AAAAAAAAAac/JGyi3mzF8b0/s1600-h/Ceiling.Composite-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130323041746995074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKRn_ZUx4I/AAAAAAAAAac/JGyi3mzF8b0/s400/Ceiling.Composite-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKPffZUx1I/AAAAAAAAAaI/JuuRz2UA8HU/s1600-h/Bishop+Andrew-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130320696694851410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKPffZUx1I/AAAAAAAAAaI/JuuRz2UA8HU/s320/Bishop+Andrew-e.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><div>We saw the resurgence of the Russian Orthodox Church. The communists tore down one <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">magnificent</span> cathedral, and made it into a swimming pool. After the change in government the cathedral was rebuilt to be exactly what it was. We also encountered a Bishop, and I motioned at my camera pantomiming that I wanted to take his photo. "Oh sure!" he replied, "Is that a Canon Digital?" It turned out that Bishop Andrew was, in fact, American and over in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Susdal</span> less time than we had been there!</div></div></div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-6763570004156274392007-11-07T20:41:00.000-07:002007-11-07T20:55:44.922-07:002006 Tucson, Arizona<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH4_ZUxyI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n9kxjRaVwSw/s1600-h/cactus+3+-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130312338688493346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH4_ZUxyI/AAAAAAAAAZw/n9kxjRaVwSw/s320/cactus+3+-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH5PZUxzI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/B04Vl6kY_uQ/s1600-h/Cactus+Close-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130312342983460658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKH5PZUxzI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/B04Vl6kY_uQ/s320/Cactus+Close-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKGjPZUxuI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/JOWX_6BS_ME/s1600-h/Cactus+Sun-e.jpg"></a></p><br /><br /><div><br /></div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKGpfZUxvI/AAAAAAAAAZY/YiZyeTLrpgE/s1600-h/Cactus+Close-e.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKGpvZUxwI/AAAAAAAAAZg/j3QaDqQ0QV4/s1600-h/cactus+3+-e.jpg"></a><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKHEPZUxxI/AAAAAAAAAZo/g1r8uxXkqJs/s1600-h/Cactus+Sun-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130311432450393874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzKHEPZUxxI/AAAAAAAAAZo/g1r8uxXkqJs/s320/Cactus+Sun-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>A stimulating weekend with two dozen professionals from all over the country. Time Sunday morning to visit the suguaro cactus for the first time in my life. I was impressed by their numbers, and the fact that many of them were up to 200 years old. It was a crackling hot morning without any humidity. I walked off the beaten path and within minutes was in a pristine solotude, save one surprised doe and some rabbits, and surrounded by these giants.</div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-45110267316455821262007-11-05T21:22:00.000-07:002007-11-08T12:11:57.544-07:002005 Varanasi, India<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_vHgNzSCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/GTS5EWBBs2U/s1600-h/Ganges+Girl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129581412784228386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_vHgNzSCI/AAAAAAAAAZI/GTS5EWBBs2U/s400/Ganges+Girl.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_u5wNzSAI/AAAAAAAAAY4/QHG9DWyItdo/s1600-h/INDIA-28G.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129581176561027074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_u5wNzSAI/AAAAAAAAAY4/QHG9DWyItdo/s400/INDIA-28G.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_u6QNzSBI/AAAAAAAAAZA/1lQii6m3z88/s1600-h/Ganges+Girl.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_ujwNzR_I/AAAAAAAAAYw/v5lS7wlZTWk/s1600-h/Orange+Robe-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129580798603905010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_ujwNzR_I/AAAAAAAAAYw/v5lS7wlZTWk/s320/Orange+Robe-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Varanasi, reputed to be the holiest site in India where Hindus bring their dead to be cremated, their ashes spread in the Ganges. Its dawn and sleeping pilgrims are waking up, having spent the night on the pavement by the river. Bathers already are in the river. The waters of the "Ganga" are supposed to wash all your sins away by such a bath. I was ready to dive in ... until I saw a corpse floating by. I also read in the Lonely Planet how terribly polluted the water is: 1.5 million particles of fecal bacteria/100 ml, when the safe level is 500.<br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129580429236717506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_uOQNzR8I/AAAAAAAAAYY/7tE8HDjY-Zg/s200/Ganges+Swimmer.jpg" border="0" /></div><div> </div><div>A barber is shaving the head of a mourner (leaving a top knot in the back). He then gives me a haircut, trims my beard, and does a shoulder massage. All the while we are on the steps leading down to the Ganges with a pair of goats, a leper beggar, and a sadhu just a few feet away. Within a few hours its too hot & humid to be outside, but that evening we are in a boat, floating candles in cup cake paper as prayers; and watching the amazing spectacle of incense, drums, bells, chanting and priests doing the evening blessing. </div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1376686800863694292007-11-05T20:08:00.000-07:002007-11-08T22:40:10.541-07:002005 Lhasa, Shigatse, Shegar, Mt. Everest, Tibet<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPxz_ZUyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/dm3NnbQJ_sc/s1600-h/Yak+Ride-+e+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130710275998402562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPxz_ZUyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/dm3NnbQJ_sc/s400/Yak+Ride-+e+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_megNzR3I/AAAAAAAAAX0/ljaB7R3NDWM/s1600-h/Tibet+Composite-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129571912316569458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_megNzR3I/AAAAAAAAAX0/ljaB7R3NDWM/s400/Tibet+Composite-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_nIQNzR7I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/482zk_N3Vog/s1600-h/Rural+Hotel.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129572629576107954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="156" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_nIQNzR7I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/482zk_N3Vog/s320/Rural+Hotel.jpg" width="277" border="0" /></a>Tibet is an awesome place where their Buddhism is much more central to lives of the people, and the Chinese regime is systematically decimating their culture. With the new train from Beijing to Lhasa the Tibetan culture is going to suffer even more. The highlights for me had to do with the Tibetans and their traditions, like walking Barkhor Square, swinging a prayer wheel with the other pilgrims coaching me on the proper wrist technique; or hanging out with monks (pictured here) at the Tashilunpo Monastery in Shigatse and, without language, being able to be equally curious about one another. </div><br /><div></div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_nEQNzR6I/AAAAAAAAAYI/9fi_CNYZIfY/s1600-h/Potala+Palace.jpg"></a><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_m-ANzR5I/AAAAAAAAAYA/8qXO92cdES0/s1600-h/Everest.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129572453482448786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="175" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry_m-ANzR5I/AAAAAAAAAYA/8qXO92cdES0/s320/Everest.jpg" width="277" border="0" /></a> On this trip we took Toyota Landcruisers to the basecamp of Mount Everest. It was 14 hour days with dusty roads so bad we wore face masks. Breakdowns occurred a couple of times a day: tires, shock absorbers, fuel pumps. Pictured here is the front lobby of one hotel we stayed at, en route, with a dirt floor. Also pictured is a school near the basecamp where we stopped and gave the kids winter jackets and school supplies. Being able to be in such a remote village was also a highlight.</div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-57494170261495252052007-11-04T21:23:00.000-07:002007-11-08T22:13:13.651-07:002005 Kathmadu, Nepal<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6fIgNzR2I/AAAAAAAAAXs/exw5f-Esf4g/s1600-h/NEPAL-12G-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129211994057164642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6fIgNzR2I/AAAAAAAAAXs/exw5f-Esf4g/s400/NEPAL-12G-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6e-ANzR0I/AAAAAAAAAXc/YrsYFkGvt38/s1600-h/NEPAL-12C-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129211813668538178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6e-ANzR0I/AAAAAAAAAXc/YrsYFkGvt38/s320/NEPAL-12C-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6e-QNzR1I/AAAAAAAAAXk/6MXDfLkbYHE/s1600-h/NEPAL-12G-e.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ezgNzRzI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Bmi5Dr_zzzc/s1600-h/NEPAL-Sahdu-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129211633279911730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ezgNzRzI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Bmi5Dr_zzzc/s320/NEPAL-Sahdu-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>The man pictured here is a sadhu, a holy man; however, our guide cynically said they are stoned all the time on hashish and live off tourists, who want their photographs. We visited at the Pushupatinath Hindu temple where the rights of passage ceremonies were going on for these boys in yellow, and then the large, Buddhist Bodhnath Stupa where we ran into these two young monks with their "cool" sunglasses.</div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-9465957391989976972007-11-04T21:10:00.000-07:002007-11-08T22:25:50.589-07:002004 Washington D.C.<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuf_ZUx_I/AAAAAAAAAbU/W3A6EFPfNng/s1600-h/Museum+Comp-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130706633866135538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuf_ZUx_I/AAAAAAAAAbU/W3A6EFPfNng/s400/Museum+Comp-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuO_ZUx9I/AAAAAAAAAbE/n1lbklbHscA/s1600-h/Washington+Monument-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130706341808359378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuO_ZUx9I/AAAAAAAAAbE/n1lbklbHscA/s320/Washington+Monument-e.jpg" border="0" /></a> This was a short trip for Judy's birthday. We concentrated on the Smithsonian, staying at a hotel within walking distance. We were impressed by the subway, and the fact that we could use it -- even from the airport. The Smithsonian is so big its not possible, even when its the main focus, to cover it all in one trip. We probably spent the most time in the Air & Space Museum. There was an entire separate building for this part of the museum, housing a number of large planes, that we didn't see because it was an hour away. What we did see was impressive enough, including the Spirit of St. Louis, missles, space capsules, and WWII fighters. Of course no visit to the Smithsonian is complete without seeing Howdy Doodey, Kermit the Frog, the magic red shoes worn by Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and no less important, Lincoln's stove pipe hat.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuPfZUx-I/AAAAAAAAAbM/17mDb5C3-ww/s1600-h/Airplanes-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130706350398293986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RzPuPfZUx-I/AAAAAAAAAbM/17mDb5C3-ww/s320/Airplanes-e.jpg" border="0" /></a>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-31551155581590037392007-11-04T21:02:00.000-07:002007-11-08T22:14:09.187-07:002003 Atlanta, Georgia<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ZlQNzRyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ZVlIHTKoCQg/s1600-h/High+Museum+Comp-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129205890908636962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6ZlQNzRyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ZVlIHTKoCQg/s400/High+Museum+Comp-e.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6XsANzRvI/AAAAAAAAAW0/kk2K1QAX3V0/s1600-h/CocaCola2-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129203807849498354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6XsANzRvI/AAAAAAAAAW0/kk2K1QAX3V0/s320/CocaCola2-e.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6WRANzRsI/AAAAAAAAAWc/OA4unTOeZkY/s1600-h/Judy+at+CNN-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129202244481402562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6WRANzRsI/AAAAAAAAAWc/OA4unTOeZkY/s200/Judy+at+CNN-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Atlanta at Christmas: traffic!! Great museums:. the High, Coca Cola and CNN -- where Judy was able to read the news on a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">teleprompter</span>.</div></div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-82573770576925564942007-11-04T19:44:00.000-07:002007-11-08T12:17:56.421-07:002003 Yellowstone, Wyoming<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FfgNzRmI/AAAAAAAAAVs/_L0E3C_xv2o/s1600-h/Bear+Face-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183801891833442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FfgNzRmI/AAAAAAAAAVs/_L0E3C_xv2o/s320/Bear+Face-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgANzRnI/AAAAAAAAAV0/AvgedzEl2JM/s1600-h/Buffalo+Fight-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183810481768050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgANzRnI/AAAAAAAAAV0/AvgedzEl2JM/s320/Buffalo+Fight-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FggNzRoI/AAAAAAAAAV8/z5TNhwlOXnA/s1600-h/Buffalo+&+Calf-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183819071702658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FggNzRoI/AAAAAAAAAV8/z5TNhwlOXnA/s320/Buffalo+%26+Calf-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Yellowstone is a bonanza for wildlife, since they are so used to people they tend to just ignore people -- although there are people attacked every year who get too close. In a matter of a week we saw hundreds of buffalo, and elk, a dozen antelope, about five blackbear, two moose, a grizzly, and a wolf. In addition, there was a number of birds one of which was somewhat rare: the harelquin duck. To get the bear in this shot to look at me I scraped my foot in the gravel at the side of the road. He was about twenty five feet away, and it made Judy quite nervous. However, the real adreneline came with a grizzly bear filing the frame of my camera as a game warden told all of us to back up. We went in the Spring time. With a crush of tourists during the summer I would anticipate traffic in cars, carbon monoxide, and less animals in evidence.<br /></span><br /><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgwNzRpI/AAAAAAAAAWE/JYgEBGHB00w/s1600-h/Harlequin-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183823366669970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FgwNzRpI/AAAAAAAAAWE/JYgEBGHB00w/s320/Harlequin-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FhQNzRqI/AAAAAAAAAWM/Lgtzv-oh0po/s1600-h/Pelicans-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129183831956604578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6FhQNzRqI/AAAAAAAAAWM/Lgtzv-oh0po/s320/Pelicans-e.jpg" border="0" /></a>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-91594699406795971012007-11-04T12:03:00.000-07:002007-11-04T15:10:21.163-07:002003 Seattle, Washington<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5DRANzRlI/AAAAAAAAAVk/-5QcV21o0js/s1600-h/Market+Grill-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129110985016297042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5DRANzRlI/AAAAAAAAAVk/-5QcV21o0js/s320/Market+Grill-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CAQNzRhI/AAAAAAAAAVE/GdjWQQxw0mY/s1600-h/Salmon-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129109597741860370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 303px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="194" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CAQNzRhI/AAAAAAAAAVE/GdjWQQxw0mY/s400/Salmon-e.jpg" width="335" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CBwNzRjI/AAAAAAAAAVU/2-yjQIydC1M/s1600-h/Ferry+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129109623511664178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CBwNzRjI/AAAAAAAAAVU/2-yjQIydC1M/s400/Ferry+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CwwNzRkI/AAAAAAAAAVc/GREPzM6BgrA/s1600-h/Mask-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129110430965515842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry5CwwNzRkI/AAAAAAAAAVc/GREPzM6BgrA/s320/Mask-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>When I was in high school, my friend Greg W. and I would skip school, catch a bus into Seattle. We loved to hang out in Pioneer Square, then wander up to Ye Old Curiosity Shop (complete with shrunken heads), have fish and chips at Ivars on the pier next to the Fire Department boats, and end up at the Farmer's Market. Even now when I'm back in Seattle -- all my family is still in the area -- I never tire of the same routine. </div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-1019774230251069302007-11-03T21:58:00.000-06:002007-11-03T23:07:40.731-06:002003 San Francisco, California<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1TlQNzRfI/AAAAAAAAAU0/WOAMTAQ6cyM/s1600-h/ChineseLanterns-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128847450117981682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1TlQNzRfI/AAAAAAAAAU0/WOAMTAQ6cyM/s320/ChineseLanterns-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div>San Francisco is a place I've actually been to on several occasions. Its one of my favorite cities: the city itself is small and walkable. Too bad its real estate is so expensive. I love the tour of the "Rock" (Alcatraz), but a lessor known tour is a must: Chinatown, including lunch. You notice the mirrors on buildings to deflect the devil, and you get to visit a fortune cookie factory, as well as a Buddhist temple. The Haight/Ashbury area is not the hippie haven it was when I was in college. Its now frequented by drug addicts, and tourist t-shirt shops. Tie die shirts have been replaced by the message of the post 9/11 era, and are black with "I've<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RnwNzRdI/AAAAAAAAAUk/BsLngnRRuKs/s1600-h/Trolley-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128845294044399058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 164px" height="175" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RnwNzRdI/AAAAAAAAAUk/BsLngnRRuKs/s320/Trolley-e.jpg" width="263" border="0" /></a> got issues" on the front.<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmwNzRcI/AAAAAAAAAUc/JsYXdvNpWhE/s1600-h/Giradelli+-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128845276864529858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="150" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmwNzRcI/AAAAAAAAAUc/JsYXdvNpWhE/s320/Giradelli+-e.jpg" width="253" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmQNzRbI/AAAAAAAAAUU/SjBgIO-ack8/s1600-h/San+Fran+Bridge.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128845268274595250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 415px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" height="241" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry1RmQNzRbI/AAAAAAAAAUU/SjBgIO-ack8/s320/San+Fran+Bridge.jpg" width="390" border="0" /></a></div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-74661939285528165322007-11-02T22:37:00.000-06:002007-11-03T21:58:19.157-06:002002 Wolf Sanctuary, Westcliffe, Colorado<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv9wANzRaI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aUTngCKOg84/s1600-h/Wolf.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128471601824875938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv9wANzRaI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aUTngCKOg84/s200/Wolf.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv7lQNzRYI/AAAAAAAAAT8/oRLEOTbwb3U/s1600-h/Wolf.jpg"></a><div><br />When we were invited into the wolf enclosure we were instructed to sit down because the wolves would otherwise knock us over. The wolf greeting is to come up, nibble and lick your teeth, and we were told to grimace with our teeth exposed, and lips drawn back ... and not show fear. The wolves were much larger than dogs, and had yellow eyes. We all sat in a line, and the wolves came to us and each in turn politely, if not somewhat aggressively, licked our teeth. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv7pQNzRZI/AAAAAAAAAUE/ZHcE8myRGUY/s1600-h/Wolf-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128469286837503378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv7pQNzRZI/AAAAAAAAAUE/ZHcE8myRGUY/s400/Wolf-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-29614867402718397732007-11-02T20:01:00.000-06:002007-11-04T20:35:44.937-07:002002 Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6PfQNzRrI/AAAAAAAAAWU/8fzZUUgKV20/s1600-h/Bulls+Fighting+-+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129194792713143986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ry6PfQNzRrI/AAAAAAAAAWU/8fzZUUgKV20/s400/Bulls+Fighting+-+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvymANzRUI/AAAAAAAAATc/_6xatCcNti0/s1600-h/Elk+in+Estes+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128459335398278466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvymANzRUI/AAAAAAAAATc/_6xatCcNti0/s400/Elk+in+Estes+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvyTANzRSI/AAAAAAAAATM/uD20v7XwzWA/s1600-h/Elk+in+Estes+copy.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvyTgNzRTI/AAAAAAAAATU/FRH-Fq1iOR4/s1600-h/elk-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128459017570698546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvyTgNzRTI/AAAAAAAAATU/FRH-Fq1iOR4/s320/elk-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>I have gone to Rocky Mountain National Park a number of years in the Fall to be there when the elk are bugling, more accurately its a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">squeak</span>. These huge bull elk mark out their harems by circling them and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">squeaking</span>. Granted, it can be heard for perhaps a mile ... but it is a high pitched <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">squeak</span>. The routine is to get up at dawn and drive around listening for the bulls "bugling". Until the sun comes up its quite chilly, often breathing a mist in the air. As I dress I always wonder if its worth leaving a warm bed, but inevitably its not only elk but coyotes, sheep, goats, deer, and few other tourists at that hour. Only once did I see two bulls having a full-on fight, but usually by the time I'm camping there, they all have scars from earlier battles. They have collected all their cows, and on the periphery are the "spikes" which are yearling bulls too young to have the prodigious racks of the alpha males. By 8am all the wildlife have gone to lay down in the tall grass and the action is over until the evening chorus.</div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-44031688021305440672007-11-02T19:30:00.000-06:002007-11-02T22:36:38.464-06:002002 Wyoming<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3UwNzRXI/AAAAAAAAAT0/MEcTUR8fUDg/s1600-h/OldTown-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128464536603673970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3UwNzRXI/AAAAAAAAAT0/MEcTUR8fUDg/s400/OldTown-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3IgNzRWI/AAAAAAAAATs/ECAXVoCE1ww/s1600-h/Antelope-e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128464326150276450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/Ryv3IgNzRWI/AAAAAAAAATs/ECAXVoCE1ww/s320/Antelope-e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvzDQNzRVI/AAAAAAAAATk/MGXaZYtv3aw/s1600-h/OldTown-e.jpg"></a>Most of Wyoming is not the majestically forested vistas of Yellowstone, but prairie and antelope. In Thermopolis there is an RV park which has its own hot spring pool. In the 1900's they were digging for oil, and instead his hot water. Today it is a wonderful stopover. Another great stopover is in Shoshoni, a little town famous for its malts and milkshakes at the local Yellowstone Drug Store store with an old fashioned fountain. In a typical year they make 50,000 malts & shakes from 14,000 gallons of homemade ice cream.<br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-70854014481443380022007-10-28T21:02:00.000-06:002007-10-28T21:14:45.570-06:002002 Shanghai, Putuoshan, Lijiang, Guilin, Xian CHINA<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP-gNzRNI/AAAAAAAAASs/Mwd9zQvjQ7U/s1600-h/Acrobats2+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126591686049481938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP-gNzRNI/AAAAAAAAASs/Mwd9zQvjQ7U/s320/Acrobats2+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP_wNzROI/AAAAAAAAAS0/UtpEplvcwt0/s1600-h/ApricotHat+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126591707524318434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVP_wNzROI/AAAAAAAAAS0/UtpEplvcwt0/s320/ApricotHat+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVOqQNzRMI/AAAAAAAAASk/0IQGveUVSL4/s1600-h/XianDancers.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126590238645503170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVOqQNzRMI/AAAAAAAAASk/0IQGveUVSL4/s320/XianDancers.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>A second trip to China, but such a big country that it is very different from the first trip. We did go to Xian for a second time, and this time I didn't go back to see the Terra Cotta Warriors, but instead I wandered through the Muslim market area. I did see the Xian, Tang Dynasty dancers for a second time, and brought with me photos from the first performance they did. I was able to give them to the cast, and go backstage. They then seated me at the front table where I could actually prop my camera on the stage. The first time we saw them our guide said we would see some "bombs", she meant "bombshells" comparable to Las Vegas.</div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-23030772322780347702007-10-28T18:39:00.000-06:002007-11-02T21:25:34.232-06:002001 Silk Road, CHINA<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvoBQNzRRI/AAAAAAAAATE/t96ZeLEIqAY/s1600-h/Mike+&+Camel+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128447708921808146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyvoBQNzRRI/AAAAAAAAATE/t96ZeLEIqAY/s400/Mike+%26+Camel+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Our trip was delayed by a few days due to 9/11. After the second day we just went to the airport and waited. When a flight became available we flew to San Francisco, but were again delayed flying out with rumors of some guy in a boat with a shotgun in the harbor. Invariably, the Chinese expressed their concern and dismay with what had happened in NYC, even in the most remote parts of Northwestern China.<br /><br />Many highlights on this trip, but what comes to mind is the feeling of how exotic it was to sit with the Uygur <em>(pronounced "wee-gore)</em> tour guide and driver in an all night Urumqi market. We ate lamb from a common bowl with our fingers. They told me a joke which was at the expense of the Han, the majority ethnic group in China. I looked around and saw no refrigeration and the next day I was very sick. I spent the day looking for the next toilet, which either were slit trenches or squat holes in the tile. For the next three days I ate only a rice soup. The girl in the bottom left photo is in traditional Uygur dress. Note that she looks Caucasian. They are a Muslim ethnic minority that were refugees from Genghis Khan.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126582713862800562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyVH0QNzRLI/AAAAAAAAASc/gLhgMcAw510/s400/Girls+Composite+copy.jpg" border="0" /></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-38953450874010267792007-10-28T17:12:00.000-06:002007-10-28T18:35:30.163-06:002001 New Mexico<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUprwNzRKI/AAAAAAAAASU/v1zUHEkef68/s1600-h/Taos+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126549582485079202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUprwNzRKI/AAAAAAAAASU/v1zUHEkef68/s400/Taos+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a> We attended a corn dance in the Taos Pueblo -- which we weren't allowed to photograph. For perhaps an hour you can see the men of the Pueblo on the rooftops, looking down on the visitors. They are calling to each other, "Ho!," "HO!" across Red Willow Creek. The men of Hiaauma, the North House calling to the men on top of Hiaukkwima, the South House: "Ho!" Then all the men disappear, as if in a vision, they reappear walking across the courtyard, one drummer and perhaps a dozen singers. All wear long sleeved shirts which are not tucked in at the waist. They have blanket shawls across their shoulders, and are wearing finely beaded moccasins; and although they wear jeans, they also have what looks like a short skirt around their waists. They form up next to the San Geronimo Chapel gate, and begin to play and sing.<br /><br />Two long lines of 50-60 women appear. The drum beats, then men wail a song, and the women sway back and forth -- alternatively lifting a white moccasin on the left, then on the right. All the dances wear the same distinctive moccasins: soft, white buckskin that go up to the knee and have four pleats just above the ankle. Down the middle of their backs is a wide ribbon. all the women wear turquoise jewelry, but many are recognizably for other trips, predominantly Navajo and Hopi. The ribbons are often adorned with silver or turquoise pins, and there are many bracelets and necklaces: squash blossoms, beads and silver chains. The dresses themselves vary from patterns resembling Indian pottery, to lace, to satin, to flowered patterns. In all colors and textures, the dresses collectively have the effect of a rainbow as they sway in two lines, moving in a synchronized fashion.<br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUnowNzRII/AAAAAAAAASE/_IbaQK1AWpM/s1600-h/Taos+Church+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126547331922216066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUnowNzRII/AAAAAAAAASE/_IbaQK1AWpM/s400/Taos+Church+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUlUgNzRDI/AAAAAAAAARo/q59Ml7oQ6LY/s1600-h/Buffalo+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126544785006609458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyUlUgNzRDI/AAAAAAAAARo/q59Ml7oQ6LY/s200/Buffalo+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>We found a remote campsite up a gravel road 40 miles. It actually rattled our trailer's refrigerator loose. But when we camped we were on the edge of a grassy valley populated by three, large bull buffalo. We were warned to stay clear of them, with an account of their killing a horse the previous summer in the same campground. It was interesting to see them gracefully clear a fense. Unlike a horse that would take a run at it, the buffalo walked right up to it, stood on their hind legs and with a graceful springing motion, hopped over. In the evening we saw a black bear come down to the stream in the middle of the valley. When he heard be saying, "Bear! Bear!" He took off in the other direction. They can sure run!</div></div></div></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-59546322252002319272007-10-28T15:11:00.000-06:002007-10-28T15:29:41.962-06:002001 Havana & Pinar Del Rio, Cuba<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_QNzRBI/AAAAAAAAARY/R3GAWccLo5A/s1600-h/Cuba+Composite+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126502638492533778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_QNzRBI/AAAAAAAAARY/R3GAWccLo5A/s400/Cuba+Composite+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_wNzRCI/AAAAAAAAARg/GFqoiO1Fyms/s1600-h/Frank+Composite.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126502647082468386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-_wNzRCI/AAAAAAAAARg/GFqoiO1Fyms/s400/Frank+Composite.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-zANzRAI/AAAAAAAAARQ/FDXtcK6oKlk/s1600-h/Cigar+Roller.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126502428039136258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT-zANzRAI/AAAAAAAAARQ/FDXtcK6oKlk/s320/Cigar+Roller.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7KgNzQ9I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/IvGbpqtUKYk/s1600-h/Frank+Composite.jpg"></a><div align="right"><br /><br /><br /></div><p align="left"><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7MANzQ-I/AAAAAAAAARA/L6eGMU8xQS4/s1600-h/Cigar+Roller.jpg"></a></p><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This trip was directly out of an unmarked gate in Miami. We were able to go to Cuba on a special cultural exchange visa, which is no longer available. As part of that exchange we actually sat in an auditorium while being lectured on "the triumph of the Revolution", which became a cliche we repeatedly heard on our visit there. The next night we were scheduled to go to a neighborhood meeting of the "Defense of the Revolution" and we dreaded it as more propoganda. In fact, some people from our group stayed at the hotel. It turned out to be the best event of the trip: a surprise block party in our honor. When the thirty Americans in our group filed off the bus we were met by an entire community cheering and clapping, and shaking our hands. There was lots of food, music, dancing and invitations into the homes of the people. </span><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7MgNzQ_I/AAAAAAAAARI/nBXQufmpbj8/s1600-h/Traditional+Dress.jpg"></div></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126498468079289330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 397px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="207" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT7MgNzQ_I/AAAAAAAAARI/nBXQufmpbj8/s400/Traditional+Dress.jpg" width="317" border="0" />AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8582673727083914569.post-17826065120282929362007-10-28T14:35:00.000-06:002007-10-28T14:50:26.956-06:002000 Grand Mesa Colorado with Burro Trailer<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT2DANzQ8I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Aa9r1M308Gc/s1600-h/Burro+Trailer.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126492807312393154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_7cZuT6KX73A/RyT2DANzQ8I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Aa9r1M308Gc/s400/Burro+Trailer.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">I bought Burro trailer which took a number of months to be delivered from California. It was a little fiberglass trailer similar to a Casita. We took one trip with it to Grand Mesa, Colorado and were able to camp right on a lake. This trip to Grand Mesa, Colorado was the one and only trip with the Burro, as I began to notice structural flaws which ultimately totaled more than thirty. Through Internet connections with other Burro owners I found a number of other disgruntled customers, and ultimately, collectively we put them out of business. Since I had paid with a VISA, the credit card footed the bill and the company took back the trailer.</span></div>AUTHOR & PHOTOGRAPHERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05099137278363872045noreply@blogger.com