You can go home again!

I spent the earlier part of this week down in Storm Lake, Iowa at the King's Pointe Waterpark Resort participating in a conference held by the local Area Education Association for educators from area schools - including my K-12 alma mater. I can now safely state that after being gone for nearly 40 years, no one is left that knew you when and that you can safely pass yourself off as an expert.

One of the nicest things about this conference was that on the last day, the teams from the various schools got two whole hours to reflect, plan and journal. How often does that happen at a conference?

On a personal note, it was a great chance to reconnect with family. Since my mom, aunt and brother all still live in the area and my own kids and grandkids were free to spend a couple days at the resort, it became a mini-family reunion. We, like I suspect many families, love each other dearly - in small doses.

Paul charms his great aunt and great grandmother with a Calvin face.

Grandson Miles reminded me of the simple things a 2-year-old regards as wonderful. When asked what his favorite part of the Kung Fu Panda movie we all watched one evening, he honestly replied, "The preview for Wall-E." (I doubt that was the response the studio was looking for.) My putting a quarter in the vending machine for a handful of jelly beans was remarked upon several times - "Mom, Grandpa buys me jelly beans." Would we all retain the delight in being gifted a jelly bean.

The waterpark itself was great fun. The slide pictured below reminded me of a lesson I learned at my first visit to such a place.

 

 

Most parks have similar slides with vividly descriptive names like The Kamikazi, The Death Drop or The Plunge of Terror. The first time I tried one one of these I climbed the seemingly endless stairs to the top, tucked a rubber mat between my legs (not a good sign), and sat staring over the edge of the precipice, scared spitless. After a few minutes of working up some courage, I heard a small voice behind me, A girl who looked to be about 4-years-old, said, "Hey mister, if you aren't going, get out of the way let the rest of us take a turn." I was humilated, pushed off and still have some the water from that slide in my sinuses 25 years later.

 

In her little book, Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway, author Susan Jeffers suggests that "The only way to get rid of the fear of doing something is to go out and do it." Based on my ride down that first "death drop," I'd say she was right. I love such slides to this day...

On trail, off line

I am at two with nature. Woody Allen

Up to 200 people each year take three weeks "through hiking" the 200 mile long Superior Hiking Trail, starting at one of the trail that stretches from the Canadian border to Two Harbors, MN.

My friend Cary and I will not be among them.

But we are tackling the route in sections that fit our stamina and ability to be gone from our jobs. We're hoping to hike about 25 miles over three days this weekend. It's a start. Rather than our usual meandering annual jaunt, this year we have A PLAN. We are starting on the north end of the trail and walking south until we get to Duluth. We estimate it will take 10 years unless both get fired and have little else to do with our lives.

Cary Griffith is an expert on being lost. I am not sure I find that a comfort. His book Lost in the Wild (a classic in the survival genre) is a fantastic read and should be in every middle and high school library on the planet, especially for reluctant male readers. If they weren't reluctant readers before they started the book, they will be afterward. (That's a joke.) Even if I wasn't Cary's friend and even I wasn't given prominence - OK, mention - in the acknowledgements, I would still recommend this compelling story.

If you would like a sample of Mr. Griffith's prose, try "Surviving Cascade," a re-telling of the manly adventures of the author, his friend Doug, and their boys - Nick, Noah and Brady. It recounts the hike our sons still lovingly refer to as "The Death March." (See, boys, didn't we tell you that you really don't need all your toes?)

Here is part of the trail's description from its official website:

The Trail is routed principally along the ridgeline overlooking Lake Superior. At its lowest point, the Trail goes along the lakeshore, which is 602 feet above sea level. At its highest point the Trail is 1750 feet above sea level and more than 1000 feet above Lake Superior. The Trail is characterized by ascents to rock outcroppings and cliffs, and descents into numerous river and creek valleys crossed by attractive and functional bridges. Panoramic overlooks of Lake Superior, the Sawtooth Mountains and inland woodlands, lakes and rivers are abundant along the length of the Trail. At many points, the Trail follows rivers and creeks, often for distances of a mile or more, show-casing waterfalls and rapids, bends and deep gorges where thousands of years of rushing water has cut into layers of ancient volcanic rock.

I can attest to the region's beauty and ruggedness. It will be an awesome hike. Oh, the last website update from May 17th indicated there was still snow in areas along the trail. I'm packing my long johns. And the LWW suggested I bring aspirin for mornings after sleeping on the ground.

Anyway the Blue Skunk will be off line for a few days. Enjoy the respite.

Plucked from the belly button of a Burmese temple dancer

My heart goes out to Myanmar. For a very personal reason. I was a visitor there once upon a time and fell in love with the country's people, its beauty and its troubles.

Exactly 20 years ago, my good friend Clair and I left a NESA conference in Bangkok to take a five day tour of what was then known only as Burma. Armed with but a Lonely Planet guide, we visited Rangoon, Mandalay, and Pagan. It was, and remains, the most interesting, exotic and different place I have ever visited.

Clair on left.

Burma in 1988 felt like stepping back into the 1940s. My top 10 memories, now a bit faded, I'm afraid...

1. The Lonely Planet advised travellers to buy a fifth of Jack Daniels and a carton of Marlboros in Bangkok duty-free and sell them on the Burmese black market for enough "kyat" for a one week stay's worth of spending money. It worked. Burma was the only place I have ever done a black market currency exchange. At the time the official exchange rate was 1 US$=20 kyat; the black market rate was 1US$ = 140 kyat. One could buy Burmese currency on the black market and then drink in government run hotels for about $.20 a beer. A stipulation in one hotel was that one needed to buy food with each drink. So the menu would read: Chicken 20K, Chicken wings 10K, Chicken bones 5K. My order - A beer and bones. Hold the bones. Only country I know that had 75 and 35 denomination bills.

2. The Strand Hotel in Rangoon was the colonial equivalent of the Oriental in Bangkok or Raffles in Singapore. But  it had never been restored (as of 1988). The rooms were sad - bare wires and tired beds. The bar closed at 9PM. We learned to order a few beers at 8:55. Then sit quietly. 10 minutes after the lights went out in the room, the rats would entertainingly scurry across the top of the bar.

3. Near Mandalay we waited for 45 minutes to cross a bridge that was closed twice a day to let the ox-drawn carts of hay cross first.

Photo - Doug Johnson - Rangoon, Burma - April 1988 - scanned from Kodachrome slide.

4. The Pagan/Bagan temple area encompasses thousands of acres - stupas as far as the eye can see - quite literally. Clair and I hired a taxi to take us around the region and we spent the day clambering through the crumbling temples. At the end of the day, the taxi driver commented, "You very, very brave men." Really? "Yes, Burma has the highest incident of death by snake bite in the world and the temples are full of snakes."

5. Burma was (is) known for its rubies. We were often accosted by small boys carrying metal Sucrets boxes lined with cotton containing "real" Burmese rubies. One boy offered proof that the stone was real by smashing it with a brick.  I bought one after negotiating down from $100 to an even exchange for my pocket knife and a ball point pen. On my return to Bangkok, the jeweler confirmed I had purchased colored glass, but I still had the "ruby" made into a tie tack. I claim that I plucked it from the navel of a Burmese temple dancer.

6. Hanging in my home office yet today is a ceremonial "nat" (spirit) hat. It is in the shape of a cow's head with a horn spread of about 4 feet, decorated with spangles and glittery balls. I wore my hat through the notoriously strict Saudi customs coming home. No smuggling one of those babies. I still wear it on hat day at school when in the mood.

7. One had a choice of two alcoholic drinks in Burma - Mandalay beer and Mandalay rum. I've drunk beers from all over the world and found the only really bad beer was Mandalay beer. We regretted not keeping the Johnny Walker.

8. Our hotel in Pagan was about a half mile out of town on a narrow dusty road. I don't remember Pagan having any paved roads at the time. The Lonely Planet offered two suggestions for recreation: the Pagan disco and the Pagan massage. The massage was a tiny wooden shack with a very old man and a kid and a couple benches. I got the old man and Clair got the kid. I have never been so viciously pummeled, poked, kneaded, and bent in my life. As I remember, a very sharp elbow was the main instrument of torture. The disco was what looked like a garage lit with florescent lights, posters of pop stars (the BeeGees, maybe?), and a boombox. Clair, the DJ and I were the only people there. Since Clair is a terrible dancer, we didn't stay long.

9.  We stumbled on a village having, we think, a wedding festival. Along the dusty streets passing between wooden shanties, was a parade of brilliantly costumed and gorgeous young women and men riding in carts being pulled by equally brilliantly caparisoned oxen. Every photo we took looked worthy of the cover of National Geographic. (I gotta get back to scanning my slides!)

10. Beautiful sunsets and beautiful people are my two major images of Burma. Wearing a protective clay on their faces, the women were delicate, shy and lovely. The men, small, wiry and smiling. And each evening started with an outstanding sunset. But that was years ago and the world and I have both changed more than a little, I fear.

My rational side says everyone in the world should have the opportunities provided by a Starbucks-Toyota-iPod economy. My romantic side yearns for corners of the world that remain culturally unique. If anything I've written sounds patronizing or politically incorrect, I apologize. I am writing out of fondness and from memory. As a traveller, I never claim to be anything more than a tourist.

I know there is controversy over traveling to Myanmar/Burma today. One's tourist dollars either support a totalitarian government or aid the local people, depending on your political views. For myself, I would go back in an instant, given the opportunity. 

Photo - Doug Johnson - Rangoon, Burma - April 1988 - scanned from Kodachrome slide.