Sunday, May 12, 2013
Day trip into the Andes, near Cuenca
I'm having so much fun researching for my book, The Plan. The final part involves a car race down the Andes from a small village to Cuenca. It has been so interesting to go out and see these villages, and I wanted to share this video with you.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
The Cajas, outside of Cuenca, taken on an afternoon walk last Sunday.
Just got back from applying for (and receiving) my special bus fare ticket. Now I can ride for 12 cents! In Ecuador, once you're 65, you get half price off public transportation. What a great deal. We walked over to a cute restaurant afterwards and had cafe con leche and pan (a roll) in a place next to the ferria libre market. It was decorated with rope nets. Looked liked something you'd see in the Oriente (the Amazon region).
As aways, we ran into someone we know (from Nashville) and enjoyed talking for a while. She'd been to Villcabamba, a place I've been wanting to visit. It's in a big rich valley with a winding river about four hours south of Cuenca. Wouldn't want to live there. It's too isolated and too many rich Gringos. But it's supposed to be fun. I've been told there's someone who can represent each conspiracy theory, and that sounds great. Some bar, called Charlies, is supposed to be a good hangout, and I hear there are several great b and b's.
But I must get back to writing. We've had no news on our lost dog,Ralph, and I'm pretty sick about it. We do have a new "girl" we're calling Cheryl. Someone called and said they might hd possibly found Ralph, but it was Cheryl who was homeless. We've tried to find her owners but no one is responding, so I guess she's now ours. She likes people and is sweet. Looks like some sort of a poodle mix.
I have five more chapters to write on The Plan -- I'm giving myself the rest of the week. This is exciting. Would love to hear any comments. Susan
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Waking up to cold water, coffee, pipe and smoking tobacco; nothing new says retired professor and author, Hunter Gray
Hunter Gray, civil
rights advocate and author
Guest Post by Hunter
Gray
May 6 2013
I slept late this
morning -- arising at about 4 a.m. Cold water, coffee, pipe and smoking
tobacco. Nothing unusual.
And then I began to
hear Them talking right close to our home -- obviously more than
one. Owls -- and they kept it up for almost half an hour. This is
very unusual. Owls only rarely come down from the
higher rough country that rises immediately above us. Maria, oldest
daughter, who arose a little later and took our now one dog out for a few
minutes into the pitch-dark, heard them also -- very, very up-close.
They were talking to
us.
But why and what?
In some tribes, and
I've discussed this before, there is the belief that, when an owl calls your
name, it is a signal of your impending passage into the Spirit World.
But that is not the
case with our Native cultures. We always see the owls as simply
very good and learned friends, no more and no less. There are
other living entities to which we do attribute very positive supernatural
characteristics -- bears and wild felines, for example.
So what did these
verbose visitors have on their minds?
It took me more coffee
and pipe-smoking to figure it out.
They're saying
that it's high time for me to return to the regimen that I faithfully followed
for several years before Lupus struck full blast, now almost a
decade ago: a daily five mile hike up into the high hills, some of
them actually smaller mountains. Initially, I did this day-time, but
then switched into the pre-dawn period. And then I used to encounter
all sorts of wild entities -- all of them friendly -- and that
included owls, one of whom, very large, always waited faithfully
for me each very early morn.
Never carried a
firearm on any of these junkets.
All of that ended with
the Lupus. But that Horror is now gone -- though it's taken awhile
for me to recuperate on several fronts. Quite recently, however,
there has been very marked improvement in my leg strength and their
resiliency. They were OK in the early post-Lupus
period but now they're virtually back to normal. Interestingly, this
particular rejuvenation has been accompanied by vivid dreams in which I'm
walking just as always in various locations.
The Owls are telling
me, "Time to start coming again 'way up into our High
Country, Hunter Bear."
And I think their
firm mandate includes Maria as well.
Now that's pressure --
real pressure. We'll comply.
Here is a relevant
post, written not long before the Lupus War:
IN THE DARK WILDS WE
HAVE MANY FRIENDS
By Hunter Gray [Hunter
Bear]
It was completely new -- just a few early mornings ago. I jerked to a
sharp, abrupt stop on the rough downward trail. I had never heard
anything like that in the wilds before.
It boomed out in the pre-dawn darkness from a ridge across the valley -- a
half mile or so ahead of us -- a howl, deep and heavy and eerie, rising far
up and above the very high, steep mountain slopes. The primeval cry flowed
in over the dark green junipers and the brown sage and the thick red maples
in the canyons.
The Great Howl had been preceded by coyote yelps and cries at some
distance from it -- and it was followed by a few more of those. But I know
coyotes well, have all my life, and had one as my close companion
in my native Arizona for two years until he left home and got married
on the Apache National Forest.
This wasn't Them.
Hunter, my faithful Shelty, tensed tightly, peering intently ahead.
He's always extremely interested in wild canines but, living with
four house cats and my half-bobcat, pays only polite, cursory attention
to bobcats and mountain lions.
This was a wolf. I had heard they were coming back.
For years, now, I've been walking each day for several miles and a few
hours in the 'way up steep and rough country that
begins almost at our back door. That's all public land -- Bureau of Land
Management [BLM] and Caribou National Forest. And more recently -- all
winter long -- I've been doing it in the predawn darkness Cold winds, high
winds, snow, ice and even mud don't deter me. I don't need much sleep
and I do see very well in the dark.
But there is considerably more to all of this.
Ever since we returned to the Mountain West -- coming here in '97 to
Southeastern Idaho and living right on the far up western "frontier" of
Pocatello -- we've encountered various kinds of hostility from so-called
"lawmen" and racists. Almost all of our neighbors -- of many ethnicities --
are just fine.
But last fall, when I was doing my trek in the daytime, I began to see signs
in the new snowfall indicating that I'd been human-followed the day
before. And then there was the bizarre situation where, for whatever reason,
several BLM guys gathered down at the road to intercept me -- and look me
closely and surreptitiously over -- one day when I was returning
home.
After that, although I still do some hiking in the daytime, I began to do
almost all in the very early morning darkness.
And that's a whole great world of its own.
Often there are Stars, sometimes the Moon. Frequently there are dark and
roily clouds. Sometimes snow. And the winds on the ridges can occasionally
get up to 50-60 miles per hour.
And there are always the friends. After dozens and dozens of our trips, they
know us very well indeed. The darkness belongs to them -- and now to us as
well.
There's a huge gray/white owl whose hoots can be heard for more than a mile.
It loves to sit high on an ancient Forest Service pole that once carried a
heavy, naked No. 9 wire as a telephone link. It waits, and when we get
right up to the pole, it gazes down at us and then flaps noisily away --
only a few feet into the branches of a nearby juniper.
Going down the long remote trail into a special valley, a yellowish and
brown mountain lion once waited in the very nearby dark brush -- probably
assuming I was a tasty mule deer. When we came close to it, Big Kitty
suddenly realized who we were -- and broke noisily and ran -- but only a
hundred feet or so down the slope adjacent to us. And at that point,
it began to travel with us, paralleling our course in buddy fashion.
It's one of several lions whose pungent marking spray we sometimes smell
down in the game-filled valley and who we occasionally hear in the thickets
of juniper and red maple.
And early this very morning a bobcat did the very same thing.
And virtually every dark morning, there are several gray/tawny coyotes that
follow us -- close behind and paralleling -- for at least a mile and
sometimes two on our journey.
They and others all know us well. And we them. Bears and rattlesnakes
are sleeping but they'll soon be up and about. The snow is now gone.
And I know we'll see the wolf before very long at all.
We never -- never -- see any other humans. But in the dark wilds we have
many friends.
It was completely new -- just a few early mornings ago. I jerked to a
sharp, abrupt stop on the rough downward trail. I had never heard
anything like that in the wilds before.
It boomed out in the pre-dawn darkness from a ridge across the valley -- a
half mile or so ahead of us -- a howl, deep and heavy and eerie, rising far
up and above the very high, steep mountain slopes. The primeval cry flowed
in over the dark green junipers and the brown sage and the thick red maples
in the canyons.
The Great Howl had been preceded by coyote yelps and cries at some
distance from it -- and it was followed by a few more of those. But I know
coyotes well, have all my life, and had one as my close companion
in my native Arizona for two years until he left home and got married
on the Apache National Forest.
This wasn't Them.
Hunter, my faithful Shelty, tensed tightly, peering intently ahead.
He's always extremely interested in wild canines but, living with
four house cats and my half-bobcat, pays only polite, cursory attention
to bobcats and mountain lions.
This was a wolf. I had heard they were coming back.
For years, now, I've been walking each day for several miles and a few
hours in the 'way up steep and rough country that
begins almost at our back door. That's all public land -- Bureau of Land
Management [BLM] and Caribou National Forest. And more recently -- all
winter long -- I've been doing it in the predawn darkness Cold winds, high
winds, snow, ice and even mud don't deter me. I don't need much sleep
and I do see very well in the dark.
But there is considerably more to all of this.
Ever since we returned to the Mountain West -- coming here in '97 to
Southeastern Idaho and living right on the far up western "frontier" of
Pocatello -- we've encountered various kinds of hostility from so-called
"lawmen" and racists. Almost all of our neighbors -- of many ethnicities --
are just fine.
But last fall, when I was doing my trek in the daytime, I began to see signs
in the new snowfall indicating that I'd been human-followed the day
before. And then there was the bizarre situation where, for whatever reason,
several BLM guys gathered down at the road to intercept me -- and look me
closely and surreptitiously over -- one day when I was returning
home.
After that, although I still do some hiking in the daytime, I began to do
almost all in the very early morning darkness.
And that's a whole great world of its own.
Often there are Stars, sometimes the Moon. Frequently there are dark and
roily clouds. Sometimes snow. And the winds on the ridges can occasionally
get up to 50-60 miles per hour.
And there are always the friends. After dozens and dozens of our trips, they
know us very well indeed. The darkness belongs to them -- and now to us as
well.
There's a huge gray/white owl whose hoots can be heard for more than a mile.
It loves to sit high on an ancient Forest Service pole that once carried a
heavy, naked No. 9 wire as a telephone link. It waits, and when we get
right up to the pole, it gazes down at us and then flaps noisily away --
only a few feet into the branches of a nearby juniper.
Going down the long remote trail into a special valley, a yellowish and
brown mountain lion once waited in the very nearby dark brush -- probably
assuming I was a tasty mule deer. When we came close to it, Big Kitty
suddenly realized who we were -- and broke noisily and ran -- but only a
hundred feet or so down the slope adjacent to us. And at that point,
it began to travel with us, paralleling our course in buddy fashion.
It's one of several lions whose pungent marking spray we sometimes smell
down in the game-filled valley and who we occasionally hear in the thickets
of juniper and red maple.
And early this very morning a bobcat did the very same thing.
And virtually every dark morning, there are several gray/tawny coyotes that
follow us -- close behind and paralleling -- for at least a mile and
sometimes two on our journey.
They and others all know us well. And we them. Bears and rattlesnakes
are sleeping but they'll soon be up and about. The snow is now gone.
And I know we'll see the wolf before very long at all.
We never -- never -- see any other humans. But in the dark wilds we have
many friends.
HUNTER GRAY [HUNTER
BEAR/JOHN R SALTER JR] Mi'kmaq /St. Francis
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
Member, National Writers Union AFL-CIO
www.hunterbear.org (social justice)
Abenaki/St. Regis Mohawk
Member, National Writers Union AFL-CIO
www.hunterbear.org (social justice)
See the new
expanded/updated edition of my "ORGANIZER'S
BOOK." It's the inside story of the rise of the massive Jackson
Movement -- careful grassroots organizing, bloody repression, sell-out
and more. It also covers other organizing campaigns of mine through
the decades since Mississippi. It's replete with grass-roots organizing
examples and "lessons." And it has my new 10,000 word
introduction. Among a myriad of positive comments and reviews:
". . .a local activist's important account of the deleterious effects
the involvement of national organizations can have on indigenous
protest movements." (Historian David Garrow.)
http://hunterbear.org/jackson.htm
BOOK." It's the inside story of the rise of the massive Jackson
Movement -- careful grassroots organizing, bloody repression, sell-out
and more. It also covers other organizing campaigns of mine through
the decades since Mississippi. It's replete with grass-roots organizing
examples and "lessons." And it has my new 10,000 word
introduction. Among a myriad of positive comments and reviews:
". . .a local activist's important account of the deleterious effects
the involvement of national organizations can have on indigenous
protest movements." (Historian David Garrow.)
http://hunterbear.org/jackson.htm
See the
related: http://crmvet.org/comm/hunter1.htm
Stormy Adoption of an
Indian Child [My Father]:
http://hunterbear.org/James%20and%20Salter%20and%20Dad.htm
http://hunterbear.org/James%20and%20Salter%20and%20Dad.htm
Pinterest a Great Tool For Online Businesses; Retirees Should Check It Out
Have you changed? This is one of my favorite photograph taken at a celebration in the Mississippi Delta where lots of change is taking place, and I'm sharing it on PINTEREST right now! You don't know what Pinterest is? Well, especially if you are retired, this could be a very fascinating place on the Interenet to visit.
Have you checked out Pinterest? Here's my Pinterest page: http://pinterest.com/sklopfer542/pins/
It's lots of fun just to visit and see what's been pinned. It's also important to know about Pinterest if you are setting up a small business of some kind in your retirement. In a nutshell, Pinterest is a tool for collecting and organizing things you love. To join, go here to sign up (it's free) and learn more -- http://about.pinterest.com/
I use Pinterest to set up various "boards" from Retirement to Animals and Civil Rights. Pinterest is a pinboard-style photo-sharing website that allows users to create and manage theme-based image collections such as events, interests, and hobbies.
Users can browse other pinboards for images, 're-pin' images to their own pinboards, or 'like' photos. The site was founded by Ben Silbermann,
Paul Sciarra and Evan Sharp, the site is managed by Cold Brew Labs and funded by a small group of entrepreneurs and inventors.
Another way to learn is to go to http://pinterest.com and take a look. I think you will become addicted! Please share your experiences.
Have fun! Thanks, Susan
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Help Find My Dog, Please
Our little Shih Tsu Ralph is missing. Coffee and cream color, in the vicinity of Puertas del Sol, near the river. Please call if you see him or are approached by a person trying to sell him. $100 reward. No questions asked.
Contact Susan at 099-425-3998.
Contact Susan at 099-425-3998.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Looking for blog writers: Expat? New Role in Life? Write For This Blog!
Bluesmen from the Mississippi Delta tell their story with song.
Something interesting happens to many expats when they first move abroad. It causes them to see themselves differently - not just in terms of language and culture - but physically as well.
If this describes you, please consider writing a blog post on this site. Let me have your information in the comments section. This could be your new opportunity to soar!
Thanks,
Susan Klopfer
Author, The Plan
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