Stranger Every Day

Cruisin' the Cove

No trip to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park would be complete without a visit to Cades Cove. A truly magnificent area, the cove is nestled amongst the mountains. It is a place that must have looked like paradise to its first European settlers, who arrived in 1818. 

Of course, that's before civilization came along and encircled it with asphalt.  The (in)famous, one-way Cades Cove loop road is about 11 miles long. The speed limit is 15 mph. It takes what seems to me to be about six hours to traverse it.

Anyone who has been to the Smokies knows what I'm talking about. This national park is the most visited one in the United States (nine million visitors a year), and the cove is one of its jewels - attracting two million visitors a year on its own. That's a lot of cars going 15 mph - when they're moving. Often they are stopped, as people are transfixed by the sight of a deer 50 yards out in the open field. It seems that every deer requires a stop, a gawk, and numerous pictures which will show only a dot in a field, as the deer is so damned far away. But stop they must.

Occasionally, a bear appears. OK, I'll stop for a bear, since that really is a rarity, despite the park's having the largest concentration of black bears in the country. (We did get to see a bear this time, BTW)

The cove is also dotted with some of the dwellings of the early settlers; people with surnames like Oliver, Shields, and Lawson - good American names. Not a Kowalski, or a Santangelo, in the bunch. Looking at these cabins, it is amazing what these settlers knew. their survival depended on their being able to farm, to build, to trade, to take care of sanitation, etc. I don't think the average person today could have lasted a winter there, let alone an entire year. It gets one thinking about how dependent we are on the niceties of daily life. I mean, I was griping because the place we stayed didn't have wifi, fer cryin' out loud.  

We've been to the Smokies many times, and have explored a number of its trails and streams. It is a marvel of biodiversity. One of my favorite place on this here Earth. And each and every time we go, we circle the cove like all the other lemmings. Don't we ever learn?? Evidently not.

The toughest time to cruise the cove? That's easy - at twilight. The animals come out to feed, and the humans come out to crawl around the circle in their cars. However, a couple of mornings a week, the loop is closed to cars. Only bikes allowed. That was our favorite trip, on rented bikes, cycling calmly. Even closed in on a group of wild turkeys. It was way cool.

So, if you're ever in those parts (eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina) don't miss the cove. You and the thousand new friends you make on the endless loop will never forget it.

Things Learned (Again?) While Traveling

We're back after 10 days in Mexico. It should have been 14 days, but a pipe burst in our basement while we were gone, so we had to come home early. A hassle, but I think we'd worn out the place we were staying, and coming home wasn't so bad.

As is true of all good experiences, I (re-)learned a few things during the process. I'd like to share those with you now.

• Resorts suck. Of course we knew this before we went, as resorts have never been our cup of maté. We'd booked online, taking our chances. When we arrived after a long flight and a four-hour drive (rental car - it's in the list below), we were crestfallen to see the eleven-story complex with the hired hands raking the beach (can't have all those footprints spoiling the effect), shoveling the Sonoran desert sand off the resort's roads (a Sisyphean task if ever there was one), and generally being helpful but entirely too subservient. We felt like asking," Which way to Mexico?" I'm sure we would have gotten detailed directions.
• Rental car companies suck. It's unbelievable how the hidden fees always drive up the low, low price. Case in point: Being honest, we told the company that we were going to be driving in Mexico. To do so, however, you need to have "Mexican insurance." While necessary, as traffic problems in Mexico can be extremely hassle-filled (and often jail time filled), this becomes a handy little scheme for the car companies. They won't let you rent the car without it, and they have an exorbitant daily rate for it -- exactly three times what it would cost if you grabbed a quick policy in one of the border towns. This doubled the cost of our little rental car.
• People who work for rental car companies are generally decent people (except for that woman at the customer counter. Don't look around innocently; you know who you are.) They have a job to do, and they do it. However, when engaged, they often turn out to be very helpful and try to make sure the sucky company they work for doesn't gouge you quite so badly.
• We love the Mexican people. They are warm and friendly, even when they are attacking you on the beach, trying to hawk their wares. It's not their fault. We've addicted them to American tourist dollars, and they need their fix, just like everyone else. Actually, whenever we've traveled, the humans on the street tend to be helpful and kind. Now if we could just get the politicians out of the equation . . .
• Getting away from a resort area makes the trip so much more enjoyable. Once we left the resort complex, which we did whenever we could, things were grand. We strolled (and danced on) the seawalk, ate authentic food, interacted with real people, and generally felt pretty good about the experience.
• Changing your cash into local money gets you a better deal. This area was so addicted to dollars that every shop would accept them. In fact, the shop owners apologized if they had to give you change in pesos. Thing is, if you paid in dollars the exchange rate would kill you. The official rate of exchange was something like 14 pesos to the dollar when we were there. If you bought with dollars, however, the rate went down to like 10 to the dollar. Yeah, I know it's not much, but I hate being mistaken for a rube or a rich American.
• A little of the local language goes a long way. Even my halting, broken Spanish was appreciated. Many of the locals where we were had a least a little English, and more than a few were fluent. However, I didn't go to a foreign country to hear my own language palavered back at me. While it's nice, I did want to habla a little español. So I tried, and they smiled encouragingly.
• Deserts can be beautiful. I'm not what you'd call a desert guy; they're too dry and strangely ungrounding for my taste. However, we stopped for a while in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument on our drive to the airport. It's an incredible place. With their arm-like branches, a number of the cacti look like people. No wonder the local shamans, after chewing a little peyote, talk to these things. They seem very friendly. Go there if you get the chance.
• Never go through airport security looking like the Unabomber. While I don't think the casual observer would mistake me for Ted Kaczynski (photo at right), I was a might scruffy when we flew back yesterday. When I set off the metal detector, over and over again, even after discarding much of my wardrobe, the good folks at the TSA became somewhat suspicious. I was whisked off for the wanding and pat-down as my wife sat patiently by. While I am virtually always pulled aside for the casual grope through my carry-on (why? it continues to baffle me), I hadn't gotten wanded since I flew to the West coast on September 14, 2001, when airport security was trying out all its new toys and just about everyone was getting wanded.
• Getting wanded by TSA is almost like the exam during an alien abduction (except for the anal probing -- usually anyway, thank God). Every rivet in my jeans and every zipper in my handy, comfortable travel shirt (which I will never wear to an airport again) caused the happy little metal-detecting wand to shriek like an Banshee. At this point, I would get patted down in that area, discovered not to be packin', and was treated to another shriek as another jeans rivet was found. So what had made the original, walk-through metal detector go nuts???
• Those wonderful foil-lined covers, the ones that keep the prying eyes of those with RFID-enabled scanners from getting your life story, will set off walk-through metal detectors like nobody's business. The damn thing is so slim and nondescript, I had forgotten that it was in my pocket when I took out my passport to check in at the ticket counter. Now, I admit to being a bit paranoid about my personal information. I don't want to get tailored ads sent to me, nor will I ever want billboards shouting my name, like in the movie Minority Report. I don't get preferred shopper cards (take a hike, CVS) or any of that stuff. So, the protector for the passport seemed like a good idea. I suppose it works fine, but costs too much. Better to wrap it in aluminum foil. Just don't use so much that you don't have enough left to make a hat.
• I hate getting wanded by TSA. My wife told me just to get over it. And I have, almost. In my opinion, air travel has become one indignity after another. More than anything else, it seems to me to be random acts of the exercise of authority. Trying to break our will, they are! Getting us to dispense with questioning their purposes, I think! Talking like Yoda, I am! Sorry - sometimes I get carried away.
• If you're a non-smoker, never, ever stay in one of a motel's smoking-allowed rooms - no matter how tired you are. It doesn't matter how long ago a smoker actually stayed in that room. The smell never leaves (why didn't we recall this from our childhoods - those of us with smoking parents?). Repeat: The smell never leaves. You'll wake up the next day congested and smelling like you have a two-pack-a-day habit.
  
• There's no place like home, there's no place like home. If I ever go searching for my heart's desire again, I . . . -- If you can finish this quote, you've seen The Wizard of Oz too many times.
  

Hasta mañana, amigos.

Lessons of Simplicity

My wife an I are in Mexico for a few days (and thanks to our housesitter Anna for making the trip worry-free). One of the reasons we love coming here is the people. They are kind and have a warm and easy sense of family. So I suppose it's no coincidence that I decided to take a gander at the Mayan calendar for tomorrow when I started to post today.

Tomorrow is an 11 Dog (Oc) day on the calendar. The energy of 11 is one of resolution and fitting in, of finding the proper place for everything in creation. With this resolution comes change geared toward simplicity, as the Universe is a rather efficient place, despite its sometimes messy appearance. The Dog energy is warm hearted, loyal, valiant, and playful - with a strong sense of the group and one's proper position in that group. Dog days are good days to enjoy friends and family.

Tomorrow, then, seems to ask us to seek the peace and pleasure in the simple enjoyment of those we love. Find your place in that structure and allow yourself to be it. This is the way to contentment on an 11 Dog day.

One of our favorite things to do when in Mexico is to hang in the zocalo (town square) and soak up all the love and companionship of the gentle socializing of Mexican family life. Plus, it's a great way to get away from all the other Gringos. Hangin' in the square is one of the many lessons to take from simplicity.

Gotta go. See you 'round the square.