Alaska Later This Week!

Ever since I was a child, I have always had a fascination with Alaska.  I vividly remember grabbing a hold of whatever maps I could find of that state (these were the times before the Internet and computers, mind you), and poring over them, covering every single centimeter of that huge state with my mental magnifying glass.  I think my fascination lay in large part due to the remoteness of Alaska.  How could anyone possibly live so far away from where I lived?  What was it like up there?  Were people different?  What kind of lives did they have?  

As a child, I was forever questioning everything (sorry Mom & Dad!).  I wondered exactly just who was responsible for deciding who would grow up and live where, and why I didn't have much choice in the matter initially.  Eventually, I progressed from simply looking at maps to actually checking out books on the different states and geographical areas of the world from our local public library in the small town in which I grew up - spending hours and hours just fascinated with how very different certain regions of our country and world were as compared to where I lived in at the time (which was very boring and not newsworthy in any redeeming way).

I remember seeing images of the vast, open, majestic, and serene wilderness that is Alaska.  Images of jagged, enormous, snow-capped mountains, endless tall pine trees, gigantic elk and moose grazing on green hilly pastures, and rivers and streams full of big, healthy salmon trying to find their way upstream while avoiding the curious gazes of very interested brown, hungry bears.

Deep inside, I always wanted to be a part of that, even if only for a few moments; I wanted to experience the unparalleled beauty of that great state of Alaska.  I developed a yearning to visit that state, a yearning that would soon subside and stay buried in the deep recesses of my soul - until many, many years later. 

I sit here today, writing from the terminal of the tiny Shenandoah Valley Regional Airport in Weyer's Cave, Virginia, on my way from here to Houston for a Thanksgiving holiday visit with family and friends.  I'm incredibly, incredibly fortunate that the company I work for, Rosetta Stone, will be sending me this coming Sunday on an adventure to that elusive state in the far North that been so out of reach until now - Alaska. 

Mom & Our Family

I haven't shown my blog much love in a while now.  In fact, it has been a little over two years since I last made an entry.  I'm deciding today that I'm absolutely going to do a better job of updating it more frequently - not daily or anything, but definitely more often than once every two years.

On that note, today is Mother's Day here in these United States.  I just got off the phone with my sister (who has been like a second mom to me, in many ways), as well as with my own mom.  I'm not only eternally grateful, but also exceedingly lucky to have the honor of having these two amazing women in my life.  

Since I was a child, my mother has played a very important role in my life and has always taken a keen interest in it.  As a child, I always - for whatever reason - expected my mom (as well as my dad) to be like superheroes.  In many ways, they were that and more, but in some others, they didn't come close.  These moments led to some childhood disappointments, but when I grew up and got past this, I actually learned to see my parents as human beings who tried their best to make life good for my older sister, older brother, and me, given the circumstances they found themselves in at the time.  

My mom is the third of six children (five girls, one boy).  Born in northeast Mexico in 1938, she went to elementary school, as she tells me, in a school that had broken windows and worn desks.  As one can imagine, things would get pretty chilly in the winter, but they were happy.  Every morning, she would stand outside in formation along with the other schoolchildren and salute the Mexican flag as it was raised on the flagpole while the national anthem of Mexico played through the school's loudspeakers.  She then went on to complete middle school and high school, and afterwards went on to a school to learn secretarial skills - back in the day when old-style typewriters, carbon papers, and shorthand were the methods of communication (not the e-mail, blogs, and Facebook that we have today).  

She met my dad in her early 20s after going to a local nightclub to see my dad's band perform - the Johnny Jets (later Los Aztecas de Matamoros).  The story goes that while admiring my dad's music that night as the band played on (with him as the lead guitar and lead singer), my dad sort of just glanced her over and paid no attention to this beautiful girl in the audience.  Perplexed as to why exactly it was that this musician would just ignore her like that, my mom made it a point to make his acquaintance after the show.  They started talking over drinks, and the rest, as they say, is history. 

My mom married my dad in 1962 in Mexico at the tender young age of 24, and in 1963, my oldest sister, Diana Elsa, was born.  My dad, fairly dark-skinned as he is, has told us stories of how he would walk around the town square with my newborn sister, who was very fair-skinned with green eyes, and people would give him looks as if he had kidnapped her from some American family!  Four years later, in 1967, my older brother, Pablo Jesús, was born.  After having my sister, my mother had hoped for a boy, and her wish was granted.  I was born in 1973, and while I was only eight months old (in April of 1974), my family emigrated from Mexico and came to the United States, as my parents dreamed of the proverbial better life for their children.  They felt that the limited opportunities in Mexico at the time would be too stifling for what they had in mind for us as parents.  

My mom, along with my dad, has always cared deeply about my education, and their biggest desire for us as their children has always been for the three of us to live happy, fulfilling lives.  For me, personally, I have to say that the greatest gift that she and my dad have given me has been absolute freedom.  Growing up, my parents never placed any restrictions or limitations on any aspect of my life.  They let me formulate my own opinions on important matters like religion and politics - never imposing their own personal views on me - and allowed me full reign to individually shape my own perspective of life in a way that worked best for me as an independent human being.  For this great gift, I will be eternally grateful to my parents.
 

Today, my mom is 73 and living happily with my dad in a small retirement community in Houston, Texas.  I make it a point to call my parents at least three times a week - almost always including every Sunday.  I continue to cherish the conversations I have with my parents, because I know that, sadly, they will not be around forever.  Time is precious, and way too short...

Mom, thank you for being such an inspiration to me throughout my life, and thank you for everything you have ever done for me.  I love you.

The Power of Basic Love

I had a powerful, powerful dream tonight about the profound effect that something so simple as love can have in fighting ignorance and fear - which, to me, are one in the same.  I won't get into the details, but the dream started off as rather disturbing, but quickly transformed into something beautiful and empowering on a basic soul level.  In the end, I woke up feeling more inspired than I was when I went to sleep...and that's a nice thing!

Austin

Sometimes it seems as though life goes in circles spiritually. It's a journey that waxes and wanes, much like the luminous moon high up in the chilly night sky. At times, you think you're approaching some life-changing epiphany, and just when you think you're on the very brink of discovery, something happens to remind you that you never really left home plate to begin with.

So, after about 13 years of traveling and living all over the United States, I can honestly say without a doubt that I'm finally settling into a space in my little life where I feel like I'm going to stay put for a while. Tell me a year ago that this would soon be happening to me, and I'd say you were out of your mind and had lost your wits. But, strangely enough, this time is the first time in my life that I can say it truly feels right to settle down. At 36 going on 37, all I can say is that it's about time.

And where? Right here in Austin, right where it all started back in 1994. I came to Austin from the Rio Grande Valley at the tender young age of 20. I had worked at a crafts store in the framing department, a job which, at the time, I really loved. It allowed me to be creative and make suggestions to my customers on things like which mat color complements which other mat color, and how the two colors could bring out certain colors from within the piece itself that was being framed. Customers were really open to suggestions, and were usually content with whichever recommendations I made.  It was enough to keep me happy, momentarily.

But after doing that for a while, though, I reached a point where I really wanted and needed a change - a visual change, a mental change, and most of all, a spiritual change. I was 20, but didn't see myself being a framer for the rest of my life. So I packed my belongings one afternoon into my dark blue 1986 Mercury Cougar and drove the five hours north to Austin. When I got to Austin that evening in February of 1994, my car's radiator gave out, but I was thankful to have made it all the way instead of being stranded somewhere along the way to our state's capital. Texas can be a scary place outside of the city limits of our fair city, from the sensible perspective of most of us Austinites.

I came to Austin with no job lined up, hardly any money at all, barely having managed to find a place to stay, and now without a means to get around - yet possessing all the ambition in the world while simultaneously trying to maintain the most positive outlook I possibly could, in spite of the many challenges that lay before me of which I was obviously and unfortunately unaware. It was to be the beginning of a lifelong trend I would repeat countless times...

New Mexico

We started out yesterday waking up mid-morning and seeing where the day would take us, without a solid, concrete plan in mind. That's my favorite way of traveling - with total spontaneity. So we said goodbye to the cats, Ollie and Chama (who are slowly but surely starting to get along; Ollie has been on his best behavior, while Chama, understandably, keeps hissing at him...perhaps because this apartment is her territory).

Our first stop was at the gas station nearby, here in Albuquerque. We gassed up, then made a stop at Subway to pick up some grub, which we ate along the way as we drove to northern New Mexico. We passed through Bernalillo and other small communities just north of Albuquerque, and finally made our way to the Jemez Pueblo. Due to restrictions imposed by the pueblo natives, it is forbidden to take pictures of, paint, or sketch anything within the pueblo itself. Here are a few pictures I found on the Net that show nicely the scenery at Jemez:

We then made our way to a neat little place off the side of the road, a small cave which is purported to contain water with healing powers:

On the way into the cave (it's the opening where there's a guy crouching inside, in the picture above), I banged the top of my head and forehead nicely, as well as my upper back, with some rather tough, short stalactites. Not a whole lot of wiggle room in that small little cave, as you can see. But I did dip my hands into the neat little pool of the healing waters, which was fed droplet by droplet from a little stream of water, source unknown.

Continuing on the road, we passed mountains of huge pines and cedars, smelling that crisp and invigorating mountain air which I love, until we turned off the main road onto a very bumpy, rocky unpaved road, which we took for approximately 5 miles up the side of a mountain. At the end of the road, we parked and hiked a little ways further uphill, first crossing a small river on large logs that had been laid in place overhead to help one cross it while remaining dry. Crossing was a feat of balance and faith, the latter of which I have plenty, but the former of which - not so much. So I sat on the log and crossed granny-style, to the amusement of Jorge and Justin.

While hiking up the mountain (upwards of 6,000 ft. in elevation, mind you), I had to stop and rest to catch my breath. There's something about a lack of oxygen that my lungs really don't seem to like. Ah, to be 20 again... But we finally made it to the San Antonio Springs, which is a series of neat little pools carved into the side of a mountain, which faces another mountain full of tall trees and rocky formations - so it's like being in a hot tub out in the open. Check it out:

At first, I hesitated to go in, because of how hot the springs were, but the guys convinced me otherwise. It was very relaxing and refreshing.

After a while in the springs, we headed back to the car and drove downhill once again on that same bumpy unpaved road. At a few points, I thought the tires and/or suspension would give in, but such would not be the case today.

Thereafter, we continued driving in the mountains, near Los Alamos (famous for their National Laboratories) and Bandelier National Monument. We didn’t stop to check either of these out, as we were headed to Chimayó, a neat little village located about one hundred miles northeast of Albuquerque.

Chimayó is known for its famous sanctuary, which is home to a small pit of sand said to have curative powers (you can read a short history of the santuario here: http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/2168)

Chimayó was definitely a neat, memorable experience. I brought a handful of the healing dirt back home with me, along with some amazing red chile spices (one was a typical dark red chile powder labeled “Xtra Hot”, and another was a bright red local chile powder, which one of the visitors called “gold” – and he was right…it tasted heavenly!). I also bought some pinyon nuts that were covered in a green chile powder. Talk about delicious!

After Chimayó, we made a pit stop at a roadside market, where I picked up an additional bag of spice – this time it was dried chipotle powder (I accidentally spilled some of the chipotle powder in the car, so the whole trip back to Albuquerque that’s all we smelled...in typical New Mexico style!). We continued on to some other pueblos (Tesuque, Pojoaque, and Santa Cruz), making a stop at a couple of the casinos on the reservations in search of a good buffet lunch (first, we stopped at Cities of Gold casino, and then went on to another one, where I played some slots for about seven minutes and ended up winning a whopping $16.25!).

Then we made it to Santa Fe, as the clouds started rolling in.

Santa Fe was awesome and picturesque. It’s exactly what you would picture a typical New Mexican town or city to look like. Adobe everything, crisp dry air, all sorts of neat local vegetation.

We had lunch at Tomasita’s, a restaurant where Justin’s grandfather had been a cook years ago. As we waited outside, it began to sprinkle, and the smell of rain hitting the desert sand, combined with the smells emanating from the restaurant of various kinds of chile, chicken, and steak, were simply divine. A happy, rotund local native woman was peddling handmade jewelry, some of it in beautiful turquoise. I thought about my mom and decided to buy her a necklace that was made of various colors of corn kernels – it was really neat. I think I’ll be sending it to her on her birthday as a nice little surprise gift.

The food at Tomasita’s was outstanding. I had the Mexican Steak Platter, which came with a chile relleno smothered in Monterey jack cheese and green chile, along with a sirloin steak smothered in a hot red chile sauce. I left the restaurant feeling like a beached whale, but with heart and stomach content.

We made it back to Albuquerque after nightfall after a very eventful and memorable day getting to know the true New Mexico that lays certainly well off the beaten path.

Keeping an Eye on AZ...

OK, so this will be my first entry under my present email address. As such, it will be lame. I'm basically writing this to get the ball rolling. Not in much of a writing mood right now...would rather be laying down thinking about nothing while listening to my favorite sleepytime music, the Grand Children's Choir of the USSR. Something about their energy, spirit, and innocence - which all really come through in their various renditions - helps me relax as I fall asleep and revitalizes me upon waking up. It must be a subconscious thing, and I'm all for it.

Anyway, I move to back to Phoenix next month, and I can't wait to get there!

I've basically spent the last 4 months doing nothing with my life but working and hanging out here at home (with the exception of a trip to the Rio Grande Valley in South Texas, and of course, Mexico...and a quick getaway to Houston, which is really no biggie). That's no way to live...not for me, anyway. So there haven't been any crazy adventures or anything of the sort - not only is that too prohibitive here, for many reasons, but there is nothing in the air here in Austin that motivates me. It's a nice, calm energy, but I'm starving for something far greater and significantly more exciting.

Arizona has exactly that and so much more. I love the different types of plants, cacti, and formations there.

A lot of people can't figure out why I move so much. I personally think it's because I have what I term "geographic A.D.D.", among other reasons. For some reason, though, as barren as it may be, the desert always seems to draw me back. It has a magnetic pull on my soul that I cannot explain. It's where I need to be, for now anyway...