From A Bird's Eye View

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Day 5 – Nepal Diary: The Trail

June 6, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:4 Comments

Today we got an early start out of Jhinu with a sharp decent (more of those damn stone stairs) to the Maudi River. We then followed the river down to the town of Tolka, about 8 miles. For me it was the best day of hiking, not just because we didn’t have a lot of ‘stairways to hell’ to climb, but because we got to enjoy some beautiful scenery without breathing so hard. Sharply inclined, lush mountains on each side of the river valley, terraced rice fields, spectacular water falls (with ice cold water coming off the Himalayas), and Annapurna South peering over our shoulder. It was a great hike. The only down side was the 6-7 leaches that Dom spotted on my ankles while walking behind me. He flicked them off with a stick, but not after I gave a quart or two of blood, and I didn’t even get a little carton of orange juice or a blood-drop pin that said, ‘I Gave Blood’.

As I mentioned earlier, the path that we travel is ‘Main Street’ of the villages that it runs through and it is thus the key transportation artery that links village to village. We therefore see all kinds of thing going up and down the mountain. It is not unusual to have a team of 10-12 burros coming down the trail at us hauling supplies to a village or garbage away from it. We constantly run into a herd of goats or sheep and often have to go to one side of the path to get around a cow taking a nap or make sure we don’t step in a ‘road apple’ left by a horse. There is always a good supply of chickens running around as well as some beautiful Burmese Mountain Dogs – friendly and looking like this is where they belong. We see women speed by us going up hill with incredibly large baskets of produce or something on their heads. Men are hauling lumber or have huge bags of corn or rice strapped to their heads and act like they’re just wearing a hat.

Another thing we find on the trail, or just off the trail is marijuana plants growing in the wild – in abundance. I’m sure they use it just for medicinal purposes, although this may be why these people have so little and are yet so happy. The Himalayan High has the Rocky Mountain High beat three ways to Sunday. Pot is illegal in Nepal, but I don’t think they can get a squad car up here to haul anyone away.

Even though the trail has been a little wet from the previous night’s rain, we have been very lucky with the weather. We’re typically up early and hike 5-6 hours in beautiful weather and then settle into the next village’s tea house just in time to watch the afternoon monsoon come in with a vengeance.

A final thing that we run into on the trail, even though it is the off-season, is other trekkers from all parts of the world. I have found that they all have two characteristics in common: 1) They all speak English, and 2) THEY ARE ALL UNDER 30!!!

Old guys definitely DO NOT RULE here in the Himalayas.

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Day 4 – Nepal Diary: Let Me Introduce the Boys in the Band

June 5, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:13 Comments

(No connectivity in last location so I’m a day late and a couple of Rupees short)

First, thank you for all the wonderful responses I’ve received from those who are following this adventure. I feel I have your company as I travel to places unknown.

Annapurna South

We leave Chomrong, but not before getting this great photo of a sunrise over Annapurna South – simply awe-inspiring.

Let me officially introduce our crew, hopefully with pictures that heretofore I’ve not been able to upload. Dom our guide, I have come to find out, is not a Sherpa. Sherpa is an ethic group from high in the Himalayans. Dom is a Tamang, which is a group from the Himalayan foothill region; he speaks very good English and has been a guide in the Himalayan for 15 years, doing many treks around Everest, although he has not summited it yet. He is extremely accommodating and a really good guy. He is 35 years old, married with 2 children who live in Kathmandu. His parents live in eastern Nepal and in order to see them he must take a bus that takes all day to get relatively close and then he must walk for another full day to get to their home. So they don’t stop by for Sunday dinner that often. We have nicknamed him, ‘El Hefe’ – the boss.

Dom

Our porter, Kirin is 25, married with one child and they also live in Kathmandu. He is Magar, another ethnic group from the Himalayan foothills. Both Magar and Tamang are Tibetan influenced and Buddhist by religion. Kirin is about 5’3” and honestly does not weight more than 110 pounds, yet he is carrying a huge pack with most of our stuff in it weighing between 60-70 pounds with only a strap he places on his forehead. He is amazing; we have nicknamed him, ‘The Stud’.

Today was a short trek, as we went almost straight downhill from Chomrong to Jhinu, a distance of only a couple of miles, all on thousands of stone steps, not great for old football knees. I was thinking if Linda would have given me this trip for my 80^th birthday she probably could have same money and bought that one-way ticket.

Kirin

After lunch we headed to some hot springs that are adjacent to the Maudi Chola (river) about a half mile away. Large rock pools have been built to trap the natural hot water coming up from the ground. The warm water felt good on some tired muscles and sore knees. On our hike back to our ‘tea house’ (which is what they call the small hotels we stay in) it started to rain. Then it started to really rain – we experienced our first monsoon. We sat outside our room, had a Nepal Ice beer and watched the rain. In bed by 7:30 . . . again.

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Day 2-3 – Nepal Diary: In the Mountains

June 3, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:9 Comments

Tuesday, June 3 – A Change of Itinerary

When we awoke this morning, the clouds had cleared and we had an amazing view of Annapurna I. I’ll have pictures at some point, but they won’t do it justice. We left Ghandruk at 7:30 this morning feeling better than we should have. I liked Ghandruk a lot; it is a small village built on the side of a mountain. The trail we are on, which is a 5 foot wide stone path, would be considered ‘Main Street’ here. There are no cars, no motorbikes, no motor anything. There is a school somewhere in the village, but other than that, no central gathering place. Many of the homes that line the path offer food and drink for sale for hikers. While their life seems dull and meager to us, every villager I saw had a smile on their face. As we traveled out of the village we ran into young kids coming down the path we were going up, headed for school. They were neatly dressed in uniforms and I watch a group of boys about 9-10 years old stop along a creek and were laughing and having the greatest time throwing rocks a something in a tree. Not a bicycle or video game in sight. They walk 2-3 miles, one-way, to school everyday . . . with smiles on their faces.

We received our second dose of ‘ass-kicking’ today as we left around 7:30 and trekked for 7 hours with some significant ups and downs, the ups being more significant than the downs. I’ve come to understand the real definition of ‘trekking’ here in Nepal. What Patrick and I have done is ‘hiking’, we tend to meander, our trails up a mountain have switchbacks to lessen the degree of incline. In Nepal there is no lessening the degree of incline, when they build a path they use the ‘shortest distance between two points is a straight line’ theory and build a stone ‘stairway to hell’.

Exhausted (again), we ended our trek today in Chumrong, an even smaller village than Ghandruk and even closer to the Annapurna mountains. After we arrived we got a short thunderstorm and thus the clouds have covered our view, so we’re hoping that the morning is clear.

Due to the last two ‘ass-kickings’ we’ve received, we asked our Sherpa, Dom how these first couple of days compare to what is ahead. The news was not encouraging, the trail gets steeper and the air gets thinner. Dom tells us that we can actually get better views if we take a different route down the mountain rather than continuing up. That was his way of saying, “There’s no frickin’ way you guys are making it to Annapurna Base Camp and I don’t want to be carrying one of you out of here on my back (I felt him looking right at me!). We concluded that the views were the most important thing and who were we to argue with a Sherpa. Whew!!! So we changed our itinerary to something that we think will be more fun and less . . . life threatening.

We awoke this morning to beautiful views of the sun rising over the Annapurna Mountains, and with smiles on our faces we head DOWN the mountain.

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Day 1 – Nepal Diary: The Ass-Kicking

June 3, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:7 Comments

By Bob Sparrow

Nepal: Monday, June 2, 2014

NOT the Four Seasons

It was a long day yesterday, I guess it was two days, but we arrived on time and in one piece. The Kathmandu airport was strangely bustling at 10:00 last night. After clearing customs we looked for ‘our ride’ outside – it’s strange to see your name on a sign half way around the world, but there it was. It was not raining, but it had been most of the day, so the streets were muddy and filled with potholes. Our hotel, The Shakti Plus would not be mistaken for the Four Seasons. We climbed to the fourth floor (no elevator) and settled in to our small room. The bed had all the comfort of a pool table, which one might have slept on during college when over-served, not that I could relate to that. Given the cacophony of noise coming up from the street outside and the squadron of dive-bombing mosquitoes on the inside, sleep didn’t come. But reclining and closing my eyes was a relief from those cushy airline seats. After a hot, invigorating shower, OK cold showers are also very invigorating; we’re back to the airport for more flying. Oh boy!

We board a twin-engine prop Shirik Airline plane – I think Shirik is Nepalese for Rickshaw. The flight is actually quite smooth as we pass the Himalayan Mountains on our right. This is the first that we’ve seen them and they are magnificent! We land in Pokhara and are met by our Sherpa guide (Dom) and our porter (Kirin). We are then driven through the lakeside village of Pokhara and head up into the foothills. The scenery changes from bustling ‘city-life’ to one of spreading farms. We see cows, horses, goats, chicken, corn and lots of dry rice fields waiting for the monsoons to fill the patties terraced on the hillside. In about an hour and a half we reach our trailhead town of Nayapul.

We ‘saddle up’ our packs and the ass-kicking begins. The first part of this hike is basically straight up for about 7 miles using rock steps. Did I mention that it was ass-kicking? Six hours later we wearily stumble into the village of Ghrandruk with a spectacular view of the Annapurna mountains. Patrick and I agreed that we had never been on a more exhausting hike, not Half Dome, not Whitney – this was serious!

We get nice accommodations, for the area, take a shower and our plan was to get something to eat, but we both laid down and didn’t get up until morning to the crowing of a rooster at 3:30 – I resolved to have chicken for dinner that night.

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Going to Kathmandu

June 2, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:5 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

“If I ever get out of here, I think I’m going to Katmandu”

Katmandu, Bob Seger

Kathmandu

If Saturday’s Air Canada Flight 55 out of Los Angels to Vancouver was on time, I will indeed be ‘out of here’ and in Kathmandu by the time you’re reading this. No, LA to Vancouver didn’t seem like the most direct way to me either, but it actually was the first leg of the shortest (time-wise) that I could find . . . and afford – 26 hrs 33 mins (My back hurt just writing that). From Vancouver to Guangzhou, China (which is about 95 miles northwest of Hong Kong) and from there into Kathmandu, Nepal. Why Kathmandu, you ask? It was a 70th birthday gift from my wife. No, it was not a one-way ticket! Like most things she buys, she got a ‘deal’ on Groupon – a 12-day trip for two to Nepal, which included a 5-day trek into the Himalayas. Not being a hiker herself, she is not part of the ‘for two’. So I’m with my hiking buddy, who I’ve done lots of hikes with, including Mt. Whitney and Half Dome, Patrick “Trail Boss” Michael. He’s a good friend & neighbor, a good hiker with a quick smile and an engineer by trade, so we have checklists for our checklists. We had both been looking forward to this trip for several months, when after we told a 70+ lady our itinerary, she said that she and several of her friends did that same trip last year. We thought, ‘This may not be quite the adventure we were looking for’, so I contacted our travel agent and asked if there was a little more challenging trek we could take. She answered in spades. We’re now spending 8 days trekking in the Himalayas, with a Sherpa guide and a porter (we’re not sure if that’s a person or an oxen) and reaching altitudes of just under 14,000 feet. We should have arrived in Kathmandu around 10:30 Sunday night and be flying out of Kathmandu early Monday morning (because we needed some more flight time!) into the city of Pokhara (photo at right) where our trekking will begin that afternoon. Over the next several days we will be working our way up to Annapurna Base Camp at an elevation of 13,500 feet. Annapurna, at 26,545 feet is the 10th highest mountain in the world, but ranks #1 as the most dangerous to climb – it has a summit-to-fatality ratio of 38% (By contrast, Mt. Everest has a 9% ratio). That’s only one of the reasons we’re only going to Base Camp, no fatalities there unless it’s from the dal-bhat-tarkari soup. We’ll also be visiting the beautiful Chitwan National Park, doing some river rafting, taking an elephant ride safari, where we hope to see the elusive Bengal Tiger as well as traveling by ox cart through an elephant breeding camp to our hotel. I’ll be used to the oxen’s pace having driven in LA commute traffic.

Bengal Tiger

Nepal is 12 hours and 45 minutes ahead of Pacific Daylight Time (Yes, 45 minutes, just another oddity of this part of the world), so I’ll try to sum up my activities at the end of my day and post so you’ll get it that morning. I’ve read that wifi can be very dodgy over there, so if you don’t hear from me I probably just can’t connect . . . or had a very boring day. We’re crossing our fingers that the monsoons don’t come earlier than expected . . . oops, wait a minute, I just checked the 10 day forecast for Nepal: Rain and thunderstorms everyday for the first week.

It’ll be an adventure!

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A Car Dealer’s Worst Nightmare

May 19, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:4 Comments

by Bob Sparrow

Negotiation with car dealers is child’s play for Linda

I bought a new car a while back; well I should say my wife bought a new car for me, well, not exactly for me, but instead of me. Let me explain. It was time for me to get a new car and I hate the car-buying process. Left to my own devices, I would go to the nearest BMW dealer, find the model and color I like and buy it. I’d trade in my old car – no, I’d never try to sell it myself and maximize my profit, I would take it to the dealer and have him tell me all the things that are wrong with it and generally what a piece of crap it is, so I would feel like he’s doing me a favor when he takes it off my hands for about half of its Blue Book value. So I end up paying top dollar for my new car and get bottom dollar for my old car. No muss, no fuss, no haggling. I’m a car dealer’s dream. That’s why I am no longer left to my own devices when it comes to buying a car, but it is right in Linda’s wheelhouse.

While I’m ecstatic about not having to deal with ‘those car dealers’, there is one major drawback: the black 740iL BMW that I wanted turned into a champagne 460 Lexus, but I guess non-negotiators can’t be choosy. She got a good deal on it and got top dollar for my old Lexus.

Reynolds Buick in West Covina

Linda has driven a GMC Yukon for the past seven years and it was still in very good shape, but it was definitely starting to show its age, a feeling I could relate to, so it was actually me who suggested that it was time for her to buy a new car. I don’t know whether she was more excited about, getting a new car or getting another opportunity to chew up and spit out a few car dealers. She is a super shopper when it comes to buying anything, but she is Wonder Woman when it comes to buying a car.

She decided she wanted another Yukon, so went on line and searched the 11 western states for the model and color she wanted, a champagne silver metallic, SLT – I’m wondering if she has a champagne addiction. Just so you know, if you spend more than a nanosecond on any dealers website, they will track you down and make you believe that you have committed to purchasing your new car from them. You will be bombarded with phone calls and emails, so much so that you actually start wondering if something happened to them if a couple of hours go by without hearing from them.

Anaheim GM dealer

Linda had found 1 (one!) champagne silver metallic SLT in southern California, it was in possession of a dealer in West Covina, who Linda had previously talked to (of course), but the dealer she was presently grinding into fine powder and was ready to strike a deal with, was in Anaheim. It is customary for dealers to ‘swap’ cars with one another if a dealer feels confident he can sell it. The Anaheim dealer, who now figuratively looked like he’s just gone 15 rounds with Mike Tyson, tells Linda that the car she wants is in West Covina and he’s going to get it from them so he can sell it to her. But when he calls them, they tell him that they think it’s sold, so he can’t have it. When the Anaheim dealer tells Linda this, she calls the West Covina dealer and asks if they have ‘her’ car. They say yes, but that another dealer wants it. Linda asks if it’s the Anaheim dealer that wants it and they says yes it is. Linda tells them that the Anaheim dealer wants the car for her and that if they want her to buy it from them, they’ll have to accept the same terms she’s already negotiated. When the West Covina dealer hears the terms, he groans, then is silent (he’s thinking, “A very little commission or no commission?”) and finally says OK. This all may sound confusing to you, but just understand that the bottom line here is that Linda now has the two car dealers trying to screw over each other, while Linda gets the keys to the car.

2015 GMC Yukon SLT Champagne Silver Metallic

As we were heading home in Linda’s new car, I started recounting the savings: a rather large GM Family discount for me being a retired GMAC employee, a rebate from our insurance company, USAA as well as a less-than 2% auto loan and top dollar for her old Yukon. Linda interjects, “Add another $100, I’ve got a full tank of gas here and there’s not enough gas in my old car to drive it off the lot.”

Maybe that black BMW isn’t that far in the future; when I get it, I’ll buy Linda an nice bottle of champagne.

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THE BIRTHDAY DILEMMA

May 12, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:7 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Alan with his perfect present

Today is my husband’s birthday. Which means that for the past several weeks I have been struggling to figure out an appropriate gift for him. Some years he goes out and buys himself a whole set of golf clubs and then tells me that’s my gift. But I’m old-fashioned when it comes to gifts. I think it matters that someone puts thought into finding the perfect present. Of course, Alan and my definitions of the “perfect” gift differ a bit. What he really would like is a Shelby Cobra. He has been known to make a perfect fool of himself by approaching Cobra drivers in parking lots with drool slithering down his chin. He also would like to have a date with Kate Upton. He hasn’t seen her in person but I’m sure he’d be drooling over her too. The chances of him getting a date with her is about the same as me buying him a Cobra. It’s just not happening. So I’ve been in my usual quandary about finding him a great birthday surprise. I was going to send him to golf school up in Sun Valley until he said the other day that he hoped I wasn’t buying him golf lessons because he has miraculously fixed his swing. This is generally what happens every year – I think of something “creative” and it turns out to be the wrong thing at the wrong time. But I like to have something for him to open on his birthday. I could rest on my laurels, since bringing Dash the Wonder Dog into our home racked up LOTS of gift points. But I’ve never been one to pass up the opportunity to have a birthday celebration so I was determined to forge ahead in my quest for a gift.

The “new” sensation

A week ago I was lucky enough to get a good hint as he made his daily trek into our office to watch YouTube videos of Brazilian jazz artists. He just discovered YouTube about six months ago,even though they’ve been pretty popular with anyone who likes cat videos for the past eight years. He is constantly going up to friends and saying “Hey, have you heard about this YouTube thing?”. Sadly, given the age of most of our friends, he sometimes finds people who haven’t. He has created his own account to bookmark all of his music and, for all I know, videos of Kate Upton. Luckily, as he was watching Ivan Lins for the 1,000th time last week he said, “Gee, I really wish I could take this music with me when we travel this summer”. I paused. How could I explain that he could watch YouTube on the iPad? Instead, I saw an opportunity and immediately began to research iPods. The next day I bought him the iPod Touch. As long as he is coming into the twenty-first century I thought I’d drag him all the way – messaging, FaceTime and all the games he desires. I was going to unwrap it and download several of his CD’s and favorite songs from the Apple Store, but given my success rate with some of my past bright ideas, I have left it in its original packaging. Which means for the remainder of the day all I will hear is “Honey, can you come in here to help me download?” or “This *&^($# thing doesn’t work!”. It’s never easy. But I will give him this – he has a GREAT attitude about birthdays and aging in general.

Which is more than I can say for some of our friends. We know people who either hate to celebrate their birthday or are stressed out about getting older. Frankly, I think they’re crazy. First of all, birthdays are the perfect excuse to have a party. Secondly, and more to the point, getting older is a privilege. Walk into any pediatric ward at a hospital or talk with a young widow with small children and it becomes very apparent how lucky we are to grow older. And the old saying is true – if you have your health you have everything. Complaining about getting old seems a bit selfish or at least self-centered. Sure, we have more wrinkles and the bones creak a bit more, but if you’re generally feeling good a birthday should be a mark of accomplishment. Being as good as we can be at whatever age we’re at is a good goal to have. Besides, birthdays are the perfect occasion to eat cake and what is better than that? So Happy Birthday to my dear husband today. I hope he hears me since I have a feeling he’s going to have ear buds attached to him for the foreseeable future.

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The Tape Chapter 3 – A Visit with Chief Chuckwalla

May 5, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:7 Comments

(If you have not been following the story of ‘The Tape’ or need a refresher, you can read Chapters 1-2 by going into our archives and looking under ‘January 2014’.)

by Bob Sparrow

While at our timeshare at the Marriott Desert Springs a few weeks back, I decided to take advantage of being near the home of the Cahuilla Indian tribe and follow up on the information given to me by Matt at Chapman University and pay a visit to the tribe. I had contacted Chief Chuckwalla and made arrangements to meet him in a coffee shop in Palm Springs. With The Tape in my hand and Don in my head, I walked into the coffee shop looking for the Chief. I stood at the entrance surveying the small, sparsely populated room when a voice came from my left saying, “Are you looking for a guy in a headdress and war paint?”

Chief Chuckwalla

Embarrassed that I probably was, I turned to meet Chief Chuckwalla, who was wearing a plaid sports coat.

“Good morning, I’m Bob, we talked on the phone”

“Yes, I’m Chuck”

“Oh, so it’s Chief Walla, your first name is Chuck?

“No, my first name is Mark.”

“So it’s Mark Chuckwalla?”

“No, I just use Chuckwalla because it’s the last remaining Inviatim word left in the English language, so I’m holding on to it. You can call me Chief.”

“So are you the current chief of the Cahuilla tribe?”

“No”

I felt like I was part of the Abbott and Costello Who’s On First routine.

Nonplused, I decided I would try to impress the chief with the fact that I’d done my homework on his tribe, by using a Cahuilla greeting. I smiled and said, “Yee-Makh-weh”

He stared at me just long enough to make it uncomfortable and said, “I think you mean Mee-Yakh-weh, which is how the Inviatim Indian would greet a friend. You, on the other hand, just called me a grapefruit!”

“Sorry.” I guess I never was much good with homework.

I continued, “I notice you use the word Inviatim rather than Cahuilla when you talk about your tribe, why is that?

“Cahuilla is the name that the Spanish gave to our tribe; it would be like calling the Italians ‘Wops’ or the Puerto Ricans ‘Spicks’.

(Don echoed in my head: “How’s this going for you so far, you’ve screwed up his name and now you’ve insulted his entire tribe?”)

I doggedly pressed on, “I don’t know how much Matt told you, but I have a tape that a dear friend sent me years ago in a language or various languages that I’m trying to translate, Matt believed part of it was in the Cahuilla, er Ivia language.”

(Don: “I was wondering when you were going to bring me into the conversation, are you going to tell him that I’m dead?”)

Chief: “Matt has done much to help the Inviatim cause. What is this tape?”

The Tape

I held up it up and the chief stared at it

Chief: “Why did your friend send it to you?”

I told him I wasn’t sure.

Chief: “What does your friend say it says?”

(Don: “See I told you you should have told him I was dead!”)

“I actually got the tape in ’95 or ‘96, but when I asked him about it at the time and on several occasions after that, I couldn’t get a straight answer from him, so I just forgot about it. When he passed away a couple of years ago my curiosity was raised again.”

(Don: A couple of years ago, gosh, it just seems like yesterday – where does the time go?”)

The Chief and I sat down in a corner booth where it was relatively quiet and I pulled out my cassette player and popped in The Tape. We both fell silent as I watched the Chief listen. His expression changed from dutiful to curious to interested, to visibly shaken when he stopped the tape and stared at me trying to decide what to do next.

Finally he stood up from the table and said, “You need to see something.”

Entrance to ‘Sec-he’

I followed him outside and got into his dusty Jeep Wrangler and we headed for the nearby foothills. After a few miles we left the main road for a seldom-traveled dirt road which, after a few more miles, turned into no road at all, until we were deep in the Santa Rosa Mountains. After about twenty minutes, we came to a narrow opening which revealed a boarded up, washed out ranch-style dwelling tucked in the back of a canyon behind an outcropping of granite boulders. As we neared the structure, we passed under a weathered wooden archway entry gate with a name carved in it that was barely legible; as we passed under it I read it aloud: “Sec-he”.

I asked Chief what it meant.

“Sec-he is the name the Inviatim gave to this whole desert area, it means ‘boiling water’; when the Spanish took over they changed the name to ‘Agua Caliente’, meaning ‘hot water’. Then the white man came and decided that neither of those names would help them sell memberships to private golf clubs or luxury homes for celebrities, so they changed the name to Palm Springs”.

Chief drove under the archway and parked the car in the shade of a Palo Verde tree in front of the gray wooden structure. He slowly pushes open the front door that had neither locks nor hardware. The wooden floor creakes beneath our feet as I followed the chief to a small room off the main living area that had only a crude wooden desk and chair sitting on a dingy brown rug. Chief moves the desk and chair off the rug and slides the rug over several feet revealing a trap door. The hinges squeak as he slowly opened it. There is a narrow wooden staircase that leads into darkness. I notice for the first time, a kerosene lantern hanging on the wall next to the trap door, as the Chief pulls it down, lights it and heads down the stairs motioning me to follow.

To be continued

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THE WATSONS WALK WASHINGTON – THE END

April 28, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:7 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Obviously they didn’t want to hear my insurance woes.

Our final day in Washington DC dawned bright and beautiful. We rose early, anticipating our 9:30 tour of the Supreme Court. As those of you who follow this blog know, I have lost my health insurance, so I viewed this as another opportunity to plead my case. After all, if the Highest Court in the Land won’t hear me out, who will? Unfortunately, those nice people who run the Metro apparently weren’t aware of my plight – or our schedule. There was a huge back-up that caused us to miss our tour. On the upside, we got to experience – and smell – the local Metro riders at very close range. Despite missing the formal tour, we were still able to view the inside of the building and see the Supreme Court chambers from the hallway. It is MUCH smaller that you might imagine. I mentioned this to my neighbor who has argued before the Justices and he agreed with me – he said he had been in small town courtrooms that were significantly larger than the Supreme Court. So just like the First Ladies’ ball gowns, things are not always the size you would imagine. As you can see from the picture (left) they apparently knew that I was coming ahead of time. Of particular interest to us was the exhibit that depicts Sandra Day O’Connor’s rise to the bench. Upon graduating from law school the only job she was offered was as a legal secretary! But she forged ahead and has been a great example of determination and fortitude. We visited the gift shop which sells all sorts of Supreme Court mementos, but somehow I thought it would be hard to take the Justices seriously after seeing them on shot glasses and bobble heads. We decided to bypass the tchotchkes and move on.

Me…being totally ignored by the Speaker of the House

Our next stop was an appointment with Shelley’s congressman, Ron Barber. Actually, our appointment wasn’t with him, but with staff that draws straws to see who has to lead the tours for constituents. We made our way into the bowels of his office building finding, once again, that the office of a Congressman is not as large as you might expect. Think of your dentist’s waiting room and you’re very close to the size of your elected official’s place of work. We had a wonderful tour of the Capital Building – the artwork and statues are truly breathtaking. The capital dome is currently under repair but even through the scaffolding we could see its beauty. As we entered the National Statutory Hall we passed by the Speaker’s Office. I wanted to poke my head in, certain that he, of all people, would be sympathetic to my loss of insurance. Unfortunately, he wasn’t there. Or so I was told. They never let me get close. But then, as if by miracle, as we were touring the Hall, we heard some rustling and sure enough, the Speaker was walking right by us to his office. I shot up to the front of the crowd, jumping up to get his attention. You can see his reaction in the picture (right). Harumpt! All I can say is, he’s just as orange in person as he is on T.V.

We moved on to the Senate Chamber, where we spent a long while, mainly because Abby loved being there and seeing all the goings-on. Which, frankly, wasn’t much because they were in recess. Senator Landrieu gave a speech with no one in attendance except the acting chairman. It’s rather odd to see a Senator give a speech to no one. Then again, the CSPAN cameras were on so for all I know people back in her state were listening with rapt attention. Several senators, including our own John McCain, walked through the chambers while we were observing so at least we knew he was working…or passing through on the way to the men’s room. We then progressed to the House Chamber where I was almost taken down by Security. We had been through security check lines every where we went in Washington but it would seem they are most sensitive when it comes to protecting members of Congress (which is a bit odd given their popularity level). In any event, one half of a foil from a stick of gum set off the alarms. Sheesh! Once in the famous chamber, we tried to imagine State of the Union addresses from the past and where everyone sits. As it happens, there was an active debate on the floor concerning the definition of full-time work. Having spent my career in Human Resources I wanted to chime in with my opinion but I got the distinct impression they were not taking comments from the gallery. Besides, I already knew the Security Guards on a first name basis. One more disruption from me and I would have been touring the Capital clinker.

A beautiful building, and the cafeteria serves a great chocolate chip cookie.

Our beautiful Capital, and the cafeteria serves a great chocolate chip cookie too.

Once our term on Capital Hill ended, we took a pedi-cab back to the Smithsonian American History Museum. Unfortunately, several busloads of intermediate school kids had been let off there to further their education. Here’s all I’ll say about that: if you are going to send your child on field trip to Washington, they should be going on tours, not goofing around with their friends as if they’re at the food court of the local mall. I think I’m getting old.

Finally, we ventured back to Bethesda and to Tommy Joe’s for dinner. It was our luck that it was Trivia Night. We named our team “Elementary, My Dear Watson” and took second place. It was delightful to play as a team; because we spanned so many decades between us, we got most of the answers right. We only lost because we didn’t quite understand the bonus point system, which Abby tried in vain to explain to us. We should have let the youngest of our group be in charge. Anyway, we won a $20 gift card for our efforts. And Watsons, being nothing if not thrifty, used it when we toured Bethesda the next day.

All in all, I have to say it was the trip of a lifetime. Even though I made no progress regarding my insurance. To spend five days with my niece was a gift – we have always enjoyed each other’s company so it was special to share this with her. And I have to say that if my two great-nieces are any indication of the future generation, we’re all in good hands. They “get” history and appreciate those who have gone before them. And for the 26 miles we walked in four days, they were extremely kind about “waiting up” for their Old Aunt Sue.

Posted in opinion

THE WATSONS WALK WASHINGTON – PART TWO

April 21, 2014By Sparrow/WatsonComments:2 Comments

By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Eleanor Roosevelt in 1933

When last I left you I was in Washington DC, exhausted, achy and feeling every day of my age. But sleep is a magical antidote and sure enough, the next morning I was raring to go. After another trip on the Metro (we had already learned how to shove ourselves into a crowded train car), we began our day at the Smithsonian Museum of American History. If left to my own devices, I would still be wandering around there. If you love history, The Smithsonian is nirvana. We toured it twice and STILL didn’t visit every exhibit. We loved the wing that displays various artifacts from the Presidents’ administrations but were particularly enthralled with the Inaugural Ball gowns of the First Ladies. Not only were they beautiful examples of couture fashion, but the exhibit gives you a different perspective on the size of the women who wore them. For example, I always thought of Eleanor Roosevelt as a rather large woman but her dress would indicate the opposite. So maybe it was just her height that made her seem big. Or it could be that since this was her first of FOUR Inaugural gowns, the talent of the White House pastry chef took its toll. I saw a picture of her 1945 gown and let’s just say that by then even a good pair of Spanx would not have helped her into the gown from 1933. And who among us can’t relate to that?

A fraction of the shoes in the display

Next we went to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. I have always had a special interest in WWII so I was anxious to see it. I was particularly heartened to see that Katie and Abby were very interested in learning more about it and absorbing all that they could. The building itself is a marvelous structure, four stories high, light in the center atrium but dark and somber on the perimeters. As you begin the journey through the museum with movies, pictures and artifacts from the early years of the war, the hallways are quite narrow and gives one a slight sensation of what it must have been like to be hoarded like cattle to an unknown destination – everyone pushing and jockeying for position. To compare one section or display of the museum as being the “most” anything – frightening, scary, sad, depressing – is futile. Each person needs to judge for him/herself what is the most meaningful. Personally, I found the exhibit of over 4,000 shoes on loan from the Auschwitz museum the most unforgettable. Shoes and other personal items were taken from the prisoners upon entry to Auschwitz and sorted for distribution to local citizens or shipment back to Germany. At the end of the war when the camp was liberated there were hundreds of thousands of shoes piled up. In 1945 when the great journalist Edward R. Murrow visited Auschwitz he saw the shoes and wrote the following: “One shoe, two shoes, a dozen shoes, yes. But how can you describe several thousand shoes?” The fact is, you can’t.

After the emotional experience of visiting the Holocaust Museum we were in need of fresh air and food. We found our way to the Shake Shack – one of the more delightful eating establishments I’ve frequented. As the name implies, there is ice cream involved here. LOTS of ice cream. We each had burgers and possibly the best french fries I’ve ever tasted and then moved in for the real deal…ice cream. How good was it? I could have taken a bath in it. I’m glad I don’t live in D.C. – I’d be a Shake Shack junkie. As it was, I needed to get on with the business of why I really came to Washington.

This is as close as they let me get

The fact is, I have had my medical insurance cancelled due to the ACA. All I did was raise my deductible way back in 2010 and – whammo! – they cancelled me this year. Lots of people In Washington had assured me that if I like my policy I could keep it, so I decided I’d go right to the horse’s …. mouth to get some answers. I started with the White House. We had requested a tour and I thought perhaps I could just ever so briefly pop into the Oval Office to see if the President would hear me out. Unfortunately, they told us that they weren’t giving tours that day. The picture (left) is as close as I got to the Oval Office. I was going to shout my questions across the lawn but there were some men on the business end of a some weaponry patrolling the perimeter. They looked like they had had a lot of experience with “kooks”. I decided to look elsewhere for answers, which brought us to the National Archives. Nothing like a little bolstering from the Founding Fathers. I’m not sure they ever had to deal with Blue Cross Blue Shield, but they seemed to be pretty far-sighted on a number of issues so I thought they might also have some insight on deductibles. Turns out, the line to see the Declaration of Independence, The Bill of Rights and the Constitution was the longest we waited in all week. After 45 minutes we finally were let into the rotunda where the three documents are displayed. It is somewhat surreal to see them in person, although “see” might be stretching it a bit For example, the Declaration of Independence was kept in a west-facing window for over 40 years and was thereafter subjected to flash photography until 2012. So unfortunately it is so faded that unless someone told you you were looking at the Declaration of Independence, you might think you’re looking at an estimate for getting your car repaired. Still, to see the founding documents is a real thrill and inspired me to continue on my quest.

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