Act III : Finale

On Sunday, Carlin and Kristen came to church with us and he played viola for 2 songs - one with the choir and one with just the organist. The choir muddled through their parts due to lack of practice, but the viola part sounded lovely and everybody appreciated him.

After Curt made French Toast (Kristen's favourite) for brunch, we went to the Viva Voce concert, a 24-voice a cappella choir conducted by a man from our church. Curt has sung with this group a few times, whenever they need some extra basses and we always enjoy their performances. This time, their concert was being held at St. Matthew-in-the-city, an elaborate stone cathedral with gorgeous acoustics. The setting was beautiful and the music was exquisite, as always.

When we got home, Carlin and Kristen helped put up the Christmas tree and decorate it. Carlin got to explain to Kristen the story behind the ornaments, and tell her various tales of Christmases over the years. Carlin also read his favourite Christmas picture book to Kristen, "Red Ranger Came Calling," about a boy who asked Santa for a Buck Tweed Two-Speed Crime-Stopper Star-Hopper bike, but instead of a Tweed bike, he got a treed bike. The story ends with a photograph of an actual treed bike - a bike stuck in a tree 50 years ago on Vashon Island in Washington State, and the tree trunk has grown around it - the inspiration for the book. Red Ranger is only one of the many Christmas picture books our family has collected over the years. The other favourite is "The Poky Little Puppy's First Christmas," especially when Austin would read it aloud, using silly voices. Ah, Christmas time. It can evoke such strong memories.

This year, it was only December 2 when we put up the tree, but since we wouldn't have any family here on December 25, we decided to have our little Christmas celebration a bit early. So I got out the Christmas dishes and the Christmas tablecloth and everything. We lit the advent candles and Carlin said a blessing before we ate which (of course) made me cry because they were going to have to leave the next day. After dinner, we opened our presents from each other and they had found us a perfect lawn ornament of a pukeko whom I have since named Nigel. I love pukekos because they have huge feet and walk like they're wearing clown shoes, which I find positively endearing. 

Their last day in NZ was a Monday so Curt and I had to go back to work, while Carlin and Kristen stayed home for a quiet, relaxing time (no sightseeing) and tried to fit everything back into their suitcases. Carlin surprised me by showing up at work for morning tea one last time, which made me cry (of course). What a sweetie. Later that afternoon, Curt and I took Carlin and Kristen to the airport where I finally had to say good bye, and yes, I cried.

Besides being able to spend this time with Carlin, it was especially good for me to share the last 2 weeks with my new daughter-in-law (whom I barely knew before the wedding) because now we had a stronger bond, shared memories, and connections. I never had any reservations about Carlin's choice as his bride because my boys have always had good taste in women and I've always loved their girlfriends. But after having spent some time with them, I'm even more convinced that he picked the right person. Welcome to the family, Kristen!

Act I, Scene 3: Grand Canyon

It was time for a road trip.
We were off to the Grand Canyon with Austin+Jonna, Nolan+Erica, and Boone. (Carlin+Kristen were away on their honeymoon) I said a teary goodbye to my mom and 2 brothers. At least I would be seeing my mom in January in NZ for 6 weeks!

Seven adults and 7 adults' luggage was a lot to cram into the rental mini-van. If only somebody hadn't bought so much chocolate chips and other American purchases while they were here. I tried to call Jolynn's house to see if we could leave some suitcases with her for a few days, but it turned out that the number I was dialing was Carlin's! Oops. I hung up as soon as I heard his voice message. I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to call the groom at 9 a.m. on the day after the wedding. The boys got enormous comedy mileage out of my blunder, making jokes that I can't repeat in this blog.

We're off. Saguaro cactus everywhere. Nolan was feeling carsick within the first hour. We stopped and changed places. Was he really sick or was it a ruse to get the front seat? Hmmm. Throughout the trip, there was incessant competition for who sat where. It was just like when they were littler and they'd shout "shotgun" to claim the front seat. Actually, we had assigned seats in our family van (with name tags) because I got fed up with them fighting over the seats every time we went somewhere. Some things never change.

We stopped again in Flagstaff for lunch. Nolan mocked Erica during the entire trip because her pronunciation of Flagstaff sounded more like "FLAYG-staff." She poked him frequently in retaliation. Luckily, she's good-natured about his ribbing. This was our first family vacation that included girlfriends, but Erica and Jonna have been a part of the family for so many years now, that it seemed natural. Those poor girls - I wouldn't blame them if they didn't want to be associated with our family ever again after being subjected to multiple discussions about poop. The boys seemed to bring it up in every conversation during the 5 hour drive. Who raised these kids?

Arrived at Grand Canyon. WOW. Took many photos. Walked along the rim and hiked down a little bit. Took many pictures. Here's one of Boone looking over the edge. Don't lean too far! Watched the sunset. Took many pictures. Bought many souvenirs. Went to a pizza place for dinner, then back to the lodge to play cards. I lost many times, but always seemed to have a pair of fours. Why? Carlin called during an airport layover on their way to the honeymoon resort in Fiji. He sounded a little sad that he was missing a big card game on a big family vacation. I tried to convince him that no, we're not really having any fun. Alas, the hoopla from the beer-drinking brothers in the background exposed the truth.

The next morning, Nolan accused Austin of plugging up the toilet in Nolan's room. Austin denied it, saying he saw it go down successfully. Why was he using Nolan's toilet anyway? (probably because he didn't want to stink up his own room) Will this never end?

Explored the Grand Canyon some more. Took more pictures. Drove to Flaygstaff for lunch provisions, then on to Walnut Canyon, to see some Indian cliff dwellings, holes in a sheer cliff wall. How did the Sinagua Indians get from their houses/caves down to the creek for water? And how did they get up the cliff to their crops above? It was all pretty cool, but going up 204 steps back to the top of the canyon (at this altitude) was tiring. I wouldn't last a week in this tribe.

Since we were in the neighborhood, we drove to Meteor Crater next. It's a big crater in the middle of the desert, and it's been used in a few movies. We thought it might be kinda cool to see it, but upon arrival, we discovered that they charge $15/person (guess who would have to pay). So we turned around and left. We're just not interested in paying $105 to see a hole in the ground.

Our next destination was Sedona, an artsy town that claims to have vortexes of positive energy. I guess it's quite a mecca for the New Age, crystal-worshipping type of people. One of our favorite pastimes was to argue about the correct way to pluralize vortex: shouldn't it be vortices? But the Sedona information all said vortexes. The most vocal advocate for the proper plural (vortices) was the same boy who used to insist that, since the plural of octopus was octopi, the plural of bus was bi. MmmHmm. Being the English teacher in the car, I'd like to think that my opinion would be the last word on the subject, and my verdict was: isn't there anything else to talk about?

Besides arguing about grammar rules, Curt and I liked the galleries and artsy shops, and we finally found a bomb! As I've explained before, we have a collection of black pottery that we call our bomb collection due to the shape and color. We like to buy a bomb on every trip, and had been in America for 10 days so far without any success ... until we got to Sedona. Once we'd found a bomb, our trip seemed complete, so we went next door to a chocolate shop to celebrate. Hooray!

That evening, we went to a Mexican restaurant for one last family dinner. The food was excellent and the portions were HUGE! Curt and I ordered a Margarita to share, but I drank most of it. I only drink once or twice a year, so it was really out of character for me. The boys, however, drink a lot more than me. After dinner, we went back to our condo for another card game and more drinking. Eventually, they ran out of beer. Curt and I refused to drive them across the street to buy more, and they were too lazy to walk so they had to do without. Poor boys. Curt and I went to bed at 10:30 but the card game was still going on for quite a while. See, they CAN have fun without beer.

The next morning, Curt made tates, eggies, and snausage for breakfast, a family tradition. But before we left, there had to be one final climactic plunger episode: Boone plugged the upstairs toilet, and was plunging vigorously. Jonna came running out of the downstairs bathroom, screaming that there was water pouring from above. (The upstairs bathroom was located directly above the downstairs bathroom.) Hmmm. Did Boone's plunging rupture a pipe? Poor Jonna was (justifiably) not amused that water was dripping onto her toothbrush, hairbrush, shampoo, etc. Eww. We checked out of the hotel, reported the "leak" and hit the road.

On our way out of town, we were determined to experience some of the alleged positive energy Sedona promoted. So we followed a map to a vortex and climbed to the top of the hill as indicated. There was a curious collection of stones part way up, as if someone had constructed a mini altar to Fred Flintstone. At the top, there was an exquisite view of the Red Rocks surrounding Sedona... and a few people meditating in the lotus position... and a sign asking everyone to respect the integrity of the site ... but no positive energy that I could feel. No doubt my cynicism was preventing me from experiencing the full power of the vortex. What a crock.

After a few more hours on the road and a picnic lunch, it was time to deliver our charges to the Mesa airport. Not surprisingly, I cried. Not surprisingly, Curt consoled me by saying " As much as I love them, they really are a pain in the ass." Which made me laugh.

Curt and I had one more day to spend in Phoenix before our flight to NZ, so we decided to go see a few more Frank Lloyd Wright buildings: we admired the Biltmore Hotel and lingered there for hours, marveling once again at his genius for design motifs and his attention to detail, then we stopped at ASU campus to see his round auditorium which was also magnificient.

Finally, we re-packed our suitcases (too many chocolate chips in one bag made it overweight), caught a plane and spent the next 18 hours in various stages of discomfort or boredom.

It was a great trip. Obviously the best part was being able to see the boys and my mom and my brothers. Plus the wedding festivities were special. Curt and I had exactly the right amount of time together just the two of us vs. being surrounded by relatives. As a bonus, we had two weeks off work to spend in sunny weather with a lot of time at the pool. It doesn't get much better than that. The only downside is that we had to go back to work Monday morning.

Act 1, Scene 1: Three days in Las Vegas

First, there's the requisite 24-hour ordeal to fly from NZ to Las Vegas:
:) bought a bran muffin at the airport. Mmmmm.
:( obese man sitting next to me on the plane, who has the armrest up. I immediately put it down. Later, while I was asleep, he put it up again. I put it back down. I don't think he would have done the same thing if Curt had been sitting there instead of me. Grrrr.
:( while at LAX switching planes, am reminded how many people wear those little Bluetooth telephone earpieces. Thank goodness that trend hasn't hit NZ yet.
• Helen Mirren was in line at the security check. Also at the airport, saw that guy who plays Grissom on CSI, who ended up being on our plane. His show is filmed in Las Vegas, after all. He patiently stood for photos with fans at the Las Vegas airport while waiting for his limo driver. When I tell my students later that I saw him, they are apoplectic that I didn't have my picture taken with him.
• arrived in Las Vegas. Weather is perfect, but we're exhausted and grimy. I've found a Mrs. Fields Cookie store at the airport already. I could smell it.
:( walked from our hotel to Mandalay Bay to see our first show, Mama Mia. It's next to impossible to find the actual theater in the complex. They make you snake through the casino to get there.
:) loved Mama Mia! Perfect show to see when jet-lagged.
:( tried to buy a cup of coffee, were forced to walk through a smokey casino only to find the coffee shop overflowing with customers
:( tried again to buy coffee, were forced to walk through another smokey casino only to find the coffee shop closed
:( :( tired and frustrated and sick of being forced to walk through smokey casinos. I just want to get the hell out of there, but we keep going deeper and deeper into the maze. I finally ask a shopkeeper how to escape to some fresh air and he directs me to an emergency door that mercifully leads to the employee parking lot. Ah. Freedom.
:( :( :( I hate Las Vegas already.
:) next day, we decide to shop instead of setting foot in any casinos. Curt needs new running shoes, which are way more expensive in NZ. I need jeans. Ditto. We have some success, although ...
:( :( ... after 3 or 4 purchases in a row, my credit card is mysteriously declined. It takes us a good 24 hours hours to get this straightened out. Apparently, when we suddenly started using our (US) card after it had been lying dormant for 6 months, it triggered a security alert to make sure the card hadn't been stolen. In theory, it's a nice idea, but in this case it was complicated to un-block it. I was not happy.
? Am I being a whiner?
:( while I'm ranting, what's with all the leopard print clothes? I've been out of the country for 2 years, and didn't know it was so popular.
:( :( :( :( :( the worst part, though, is all the people handing out advertising cards for local strip shows. There are 5-10 of these people on each block, clicking and flicking their cards in an attempt to get your attention. Mostly, the cards end up all over the sidewalks which are therefore covered with porn ads 24/7. Delightful.
• am definitely whining (or as they would say in NZ, "whingeing")
:) went to the Guggenheim museum in the Venetian which was a small exhibit but contained major artists, major works. Not crowded at all. Who visits Las Vegas and goes to a museum?
:) also stopped by the Bellagio lobby to see the glass art ceiling by Dale Chihuly, a Seattle glassblower. Who visits a casino just to admire the ceiling?
:) :) went to our next show, Cirque du Soleil's homage to the Beatles called "Love." It was absolutely, fantastically, tremendously phenomenal!!! Knew all the words to all the songs, and sang along. They are so creative, using trampolines, skaters on ramps, people in and on and out of a VW Bug, blowing bubbles, suspended dancers (of course), counter-balanced ladder on a wheel with a girl on the top end, tricycle propelled by empty boots (no rider), gigantic white parachute covering the entire audience, silhouettes of the Beatles, and voice-over of them chatting in the recording studio. Way cool.
:( couldn't find our way out after the show. Why do they make it so hard to exit? Sheesh.
:) on our last day, we rented a car and drove to Hoover Dam because the dam engineer in the family wanted to see the mother of all dams. He was suitably impressed. Big turbines and intake towers and tailrace and other dam parts. Plus it was good to get out of the city.
:) on our way to the show tonight, we wandered through Caesar's Palace shopping area which was NON-SMOKING. Caesar's is my new favorite. Ate dinner at a deli there.
:) :) :) went to our last show, Spamalot. Busted our guts, laughing. Silly and funny and clever and hilarious and great. "You can't make it on Broadway without Jews" in one song, made fun of gays in another, and "There's always a song like this." Good fun.
:( one last time through the smokey casino to exit. So tired of it all. Then have to weave through all the people on the sidewalk like an obstacle course. Phew.
:) We spent 3 days here, and never gambled a cent.

Anticipation

I've always hated it when people start out by saying, "I'm sorry I haven't written in so long..." but I'm tempted to say it myself this time. I haven't written a blog in 3 months(!) and it's not because I was lacking things to write about. On the contrary, it's been quite eventful around here.

First, the anticipation: We're leaving in a few hours to catch a plane to America to attend Carlin's wedding! We'll be gone for 2 weeks, including a short stop in Las Vegas, a week in Phoenix where the wedding will be held, and a side trip to the Grand Canyon with the boys after the wedding. It'll be great! Unfortunately, my brain left about a week before the actual trip began, and last week at work I: forgot my keys on Monday, forgot my glasses on Tuesday, forgot my lunchbag on Wednesday, and finally LOST my keys for good on Thursday. Obviously, I need a vacation. I promise to write blogs all about our trip when we get back because I'm sure there will be lots to tell.

Now a snapshot of everything that's been going on during the last 3 months:
• I'm teaching one class of Year 7 English this term. Yea! I love it. The girls are sweeties. Am scheduled to teach at least one class next year, and I'm trying to get more than that.

• Big excitement at work trying to catch a thief who was stealing money from the library. Secret cameras, night vision, bait, sensors, etc. This sort of thing is pretty thrilling in a librarian's world. We feel like we're on CSI. The plan worked. Our money (mostly overdue fines) is safe again.


• Even grander drama at work involving a less-than-glowing performance review, and the resulting backlash at those who submitted the aforementioned less-than-glowing comments. Different people are in emotional meltdown on different days. There's too much friction everywhere and we're caught in the middle of it. I'm too old for all this drama. Vow to find someplace sane to work. Start applying and interviewing for other jobs, as are 75% of my co-workers.

• Went to Melbourne for 4 days in September for Curt's birthday. Vow to write some blogs about that, too. Curt did some sketches, and we went to museums, beaches, gardens, markets, etc. Excellent trip. I definitely needed a break at that point (see above) so it was especially good.

• Spent about 6 weeks catching up on the family photo albums, which were 10 years behind. It was fun to go through all the old pictures and re-live our travels, but it's sure a big job. Feels so good to have it done finally! Vow not to let it get so far behind next time. Can remember making that vow last time ... about 10 years ago.

• Curt painted/redecorated the guest bedroom (formerly purple!) in anticipation of Carlin & Kristen visiting us after their wedding and after a honeymoon in Fiji.


• New Zealand's national rugby team, the All Blacks play in the World Cup and the entire country is obsessed, getting up at 4:00 a.m. to watch the games taking place halfway around the world. Inexplicably and possibly unforgivably, the All Blacks lose in the quarter-finals, and the whole nation goes into mass mourning mode.

• Went to see the musical "We will Rock You" based on songs by Queen. The pulsing bass line, vibrating the floor, takes me back a few decades. Good fun.

• Spent lots of time planning for the wedding: I had to find a mother-of-the-groom dress (I'm not much of a shopper) and fancy shoes (I'm a sensible shoes-type). I had to get hotel rooms reserved, car rented, and show tickets purchased (Las Vegas). I made a spreadsheet (well actually it's more of a matrix) of who's arriving when ... and who's staying where ... and who's doing what. It's a masterpiece. Most importantly, I identified all the locations of Mrs Fields Cookies stores in Las Vegas and Phoenix. I'm ready to go.

So. Maybe you can see why I haven't written in a while. I vow not to get so far behind this time. Really.

Whooping it up at the Librarian Conference in Wellington

After a prolonged debate, it was finally decided that I would get to attend the School Librarian Association of New Zealand (SLANZA) conference in Wellington. At first, my colleagues and I assumed that the boss would go. Then she didn't want to go. Since it looked like nobody was going (and there was money in the budget), I told her that I was interested in attending ... but I was the employee with the least seniority, so she needed to offer it to Lara, Barbara, and Lucy first. Eventually it was decided that Lucy and I would BOTH go, which I never imagined would happen. We hurriedly reserved flights, booked a hotel, and registered for the conference before anyone could change their minds.

The big adventure began with me having to get up at 4:30 to get to the airport by 5:30 for a 6:00 flight. I am NOT good at getting up early. I am SO not a morning person, and I reminded Lucy of that repeatedly throughout the day. On the other hand, I could hardly believe that you only needed to check in 30 minutes early for an NZ flight! It's great living in a small country that isn't hyper-sensitive about security and terrorists. Curiously, Lucy and I were not seated together, but that's OK because I probably wouldn't have been very good company at that hour of the morning anyway.

Once we landed in Wellington (1.5 hours later), Lucy escorted me into the Koru Club, Air New Zealand's first-class lounge. Lucy's husband is a more-than-frequent flyer and he's a gazillion-mile member of the Koru Club or something like that. Anyway, Lucy gets access too, so she suggested that we go there for free breakfast. I'm all over that idea. It was my first time in a first class lounge and now I know what I've been missing all these years: cushy armchairs, hundreds of free newspapers, unlimited free food and drinks, fancy restrooms ... the works. I ate some really good muesli (granola) with yogurt and was tempted to find out which brand they serve because it was the best muesli I'd ever had in NZ. Mmm mmm. Alas, we had to get to the hotel before I could gorge myself further.

We took a taxi to the hotel, dropped off our bags, and walked to the high school where the conference was being held. We arrived just in time for the powhiri, a traditional Maori welcome ceremony. After the keynote speaker, it was time for morning tea: scones. Then we headed off to our first session. I went to a session on copyright laws in NZ (I know it sounds boring, but it's stuff I need to know) while Lucy learned about new IT developments in libraries. Then it was time for lunch: mini quiche and tarts. There was another session, then afternoon tea: muffins. Don't you love this country! After our 3rd session, there was even wine and cheese. They sure fed us a lot.

Like most conferences, some sessions were better than others. One frustrating presenter told us how to use an online database, but didn't even let us log on and try it ourselves. We just sat there in the computer lab and watched him do it. Ugh. The same is true of the different speakers; some were fascinating, some were funny, and some were boring. I still like going to conferences, however. There's things to learn, and new products to see, and inspiring speakers. Either I get great ideas for what I'd like to do differently, or I get validation that I'm doing some things well already.

My favourite speakers are usually the authors. In May, I went to the Auckland Writers and Readers Conference and got to hear about 25 different authors speak in various sessions. Joanne Harris (Chocolat) was wry, and Lionel Shriver (We Need to Talk About Kevin) was appropriately intense. Joy Cowley, an NZ children's author, told about her childhood when she always read a book while walking, and even read a book while riding her bike! (then she crashed into a parked car). I know it's nerdy, but I like to hear authors speak. At this conference, there was an entertaining speech by author Kate DeGoldi, and also Apirana Taylor, a poet who played various flute-like instruments as part of his poetry performance.

Often, the best part of a conference is the vendor tables with all their exhibits. I know they're just trying to sell me something, but they give away so many freebies that I don't mind stopping to talk to them. Lucy and I ended up with a shoulder bag full of pencils, pens, rulers, bookmarks, posters, hats, jelly beans, books, reading lamp, calculator, and notepads - besides the product information. We made a haul.

The conference ended early on the second day so the participants would have time to enjoy Wellington. You'll never guess where Lucy and I ended up - the Wellington City Library. We tried shopping, and even went into a store or two but then decided to see what the city library was like and ended up staying there the rest of the afternoon. We were interested in how they displayed their books, what kind of signage they used ("Dewey Love Non-Fiction? Dewey Ever!"), and the names of the various sections (Nostalgia Collection = classics). Lucy even took a few pictures, which brought a supervisor over who asked what we were doing. When we explained that we were school librarians admiring their set-up, she was really nice and said she was happy to answer our questions. (In America we would have been questioned to see if we were making plans for a terrorist attack) We browsed their shelves until we got bored and then started walking back. We're such library geeks. In our defence, we did go to a Belgian pub for dinner, which sounds much more happening than it was. I better skip the part about dancing on the tables and picking up cute (younger) guys in case our husbands read this. No, seriously.

The truth is that I'd been sneezing and blowing my nose all day so I took some antihistamine back at the hotel and fell asleep while Lucy was still watching CSI. Sharing a hotel room was not a problem for us, but I'd asked Curt if he ever shared hotel rooms with other guys when he went on site visits and he said No Way!. Apparently sharing a room is a girl thing.

On the last morning, the alarm went off as scheduled. I hate alarms. I hate getting up. At home, Curt gets up first, takes a shower and turns on the heater in the bathroom (this way it's nice and toasty when it's my turn). When he comes out, he gets dressed and starts to make the bed ... except I'm still in it. He folds up the duvet. Brrrr. Finally, he has to "hug" me, then sit me up, then stand me up (still hugging), and finally send me to the now toasty bathroom. It's our tradition. In the Wellington hotel room, I didn't have anyone to drag me out of bed. I explained the routine to Lucy, but she refused to perform Curt's duties. Anyway, I had to get out of bed all by myself and I performed admirably. Lucy threatened to tell Curt that my whole routine is fake, and that I'm perfectly capable of getting out of bed by myself. Uh oh.

On this particular morning, Lucy turned on the TV to watch the replay of the America's Cup race that took place in Valencia at about 2:00 in the morning. We didn't care enough about the race to stay up and watch it live (although lots of Kiwis did) but we wanted to know the outcome so we watched the replay. At this point, the New Zealand boat was down 4-2, and the Swiss boat only needed one more race to win overall. When we turned it on, the Swiss boat was ahead. It looked like it would be all over for the Kiwis. But no. Something happened to the Swiss boat ... they were losing ground ... the Kiwis passed them! It looked like the Kiwis might win after all. The Kiwi boat kept gaining ground (do they call it gaining ground or is it gaining water?) and had a comfortable lead as they neared the finish line. But apparently the Kiwis had a penalty against them from an earlier infringement. This meant they'd have to make the boat do a pirouette! So just before the finish line, they cranked it hard to the right (starboard? port?) and the boat turned in a tight circle. Unfortunately, this allowed the Swiss boat to catch up and pass them BY ONE SECOND. The Swiss boat won the America's Cup.

That was a pretty exciting finish, considering I don't even care about this sport. But boy, the rest of New Zealand sure cares. The whole country would be in mourning after this. If it's any consolation, most of the crew members on the Swiss boat were poached from New Zealand (but everyone here considers them traitors). I guess New Zealanders dominate the crews on pretty much all the boats. Sailing is HUGE in NZ. One more thing - why does Switzerland have a boat when there's not even any oceans in that country???

Today's date was July 4th, which doesn't mean anything in NZ, but would be a big holiday in the US. Since Wellington is the nation's capital - and the location of the American Embassy, I wondered if there would be some sort of 4th of July celebration there to mark the occasion. Coincidentally, the US Ambassador is from Portland, but he was appointed as a reward for his service to G. W. Bush as campaign finance chairman or something. So he probably wouldn't be amused but my explanation of why we moved to New Zealand. I guess it's just as well I didn't try to attend anything at the embassy.

Back at the conference, we had one more speaker, morning tea, another sessions, lunch, one last session, and a closing panel. Done. Our flight wasn't until 7:00 so we had some time to kill. No, we did not go to the Wellington City Library this time. We went to Borders Books. Which is almost as pathetic, I guess. For dinner, Lucy proposed that we go to the airport early and have free dinner in the Koru Club. Sounds like a plan. I got to gorge myself one last time before we flew home. This time, Lucy and I were seated together and we debriefed: good conference, lots of loot. We can't wait to share all our new ideas with our colleagues. Lucy said she'd make a Power Point of the pictures she took. I told her to remember to remove the picture of the cute guys that we picked up at the pub, or our fellow librarians might think we had too much fun.

Fiji Layover

We flew from LA to Fiji on our way home to New Zealand. We left on Monday, 29 January and arrived in Nadi (pronounced NAHN - dee) 11 hours later on Wednesday, 31 January. Megan wrote in her journal for Tuesday, 30 January, "Didn't happen - crossed international date line." I don't know why that always seems worth mentioning. It's not really magical or extraordinary. It's just a trick of the calendar.

I had booked three days in Fiji because we actually got a cheaper return trip fare by landing in Fiji instead of flying direct from LAX to Auckland. The Fiji government was overthrown a few months ago in a military coup and the global community responded by shunning trade and tourism. To encourage tourism, I think that the government probably subsidised the airline industry with incentives to bring more tourists back to the island. The net result was a cheaper flight for us, so we couldn't pass up the opportunity to explore part of this South Pacific tropical paradise, despite the recent coup.

We arrived at the airport at 6:00 AM and the heat and humidity were already uncomfortable. High temperatures in Fiji this time of year are about 30 degrees Celsius (86 F) but the nighttime low temperature doesn't dip much below 25 C (77 F). A small group of island singers greeted us with traditional Fijian songs as we cleared customs. We gathered our baggage and found a man holding a card with my name on it, all pre-arranged in advance for a quick shuttle to our hotel. Unfortunately the destination on the card read "Tubakula" and not "Saweni Beach" as I expected. I asked the driver if these two names referred to the same destination, and he assured me that they were part of the same ownership. Big mistake. We hopped on the air-conditioned tour bus and drove anti-clockwise around the island toward the capital, Suva. About 90 minutes later, he dropped us off at Tubakula where the receptionist had absolutely no record of our booking. The booking agency had stuffed up our details and sent us to the wrong side of the island. They quickly called another driver who altered his morning plans and drove us back to Nadi and then about 20 minutes beyond to Saweni Beach Apartment Hotel. As we were driven back and forth across the island, we encountered a half a dozen military checkpoints that seemed to be more for appearance's sake than for security. Eventually we arrived at the correct location and checked in to our self-contained unit early at 10:00 AM, having toured much of the scenic main island for free, albeit in a slightly jet-lagged stupor.

The hotel consists of 12 apartment units, each with a kitchenette, and one larger dormitory for backpackers. Apart from one backpacker from the UK staying in the dormitory, we were the only hotel guests for the three days that we stayed. Tourism is definitely suffering from the coup. The experience was surreal in that we had near-exclusive use of this beachfront hotel with shimmering pool and tropical gardens with swaying coconut palms for next to nothing.

There was a hotel cafe, but we were more interested in learning to use the local bus system to travel to Lautoka nearby to buy groceries for our meals. At the bus stop near the hotel, a friendly woman waiting recognised us as non-native (not that hard to tell!) and helpfully explained how to pay the driver and when to change buses and where to catch the return bus. The buses appear to be war surplus vintage. Our bus was air-conditioned the old fashioned way (it didn't have any glass in the windows) and we had to agilely step over the exposed gear box by the driver to get to a bolted bench seat. The buses get plenty of patronage from the locals as fare to Lautoka was only 75 cents. Riders nimbly disembarked as the driver slowed down but rarely actually braked to a complete stop along the route. Thick black diesel exhaust billowed in a trailing cloud.

We bought fresh produce at a market, and stopped for groceries at the supermarket. A small boy helping his mother in the market was really excited to see us since the colour of our pale skin was such a novelty in the mass of humanity. Buying groceries in Fiji is very much like our experience in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico - unfamiliar looking vegetables amid the flies and heat, and abject poverty always just a few paces away. Although Fiji is a poor country, I believe that their quality of life is probably somewhat self-selected and that given a choice, they may actually prefer to live with their family among a few goats and chickens to supplement the copious garden bounty rather than sell out to the man for western style affluence. It's a tropical island after all. Other cultures simply do not share the American value of seeking maximum compensation in exchange for labour or capital investment and the expectation of commensurate prosperity as a measure of one's worth. Good on them! On the other hand, roughly one person in every family has left Fiji in search of better economic opportunities, often to New Zealand.

With the aid of another helpful local man, we found our return bus and brought our supplies back to the hotel. The hotel owner brought a complimentary bottle of chilled wine to our room and apologised for the stuff up with the airport shuttle service. I eagerly accepted her unsolicited and gracious offering. Now we were fully stocked for three uninterrupted days of rest and relaxation.

The remainder of our visit consisted of frequent trips to our almost private swimming pool (10 metres from our door), occasional dips in the warm, placid ocean water with white sandy beach (ignore the tidal rubbish), leisurely strolls among tropical foliage dodging killer coconuts, reading, napping, and not much else. After a whirlwind of activity in the US for the memorial service, it was a perfect way to ease back into the rhythm of ordinary life. I'm glad we visited Fiji - like most of our travels, I feel enriched by the experience.

Curt

"Oh crap. I thought Mom told you"

I took off from Auckland on Thursday at 7:00 p.m and landed in Seattle on Thursday at about 7:00 p.m. It took about 24 hours to fly from NZ to Seattle counting layovers in Fiji and LA, but due to the international date line, it was still Thursday.

At the airport in Seattle (while I was waiting for my bags), I called my mom's house in Bellingham to tell her I'd arrived, and to find out whether I should take an airporter bus 100 miles to Bellingham, or whether someone had driven down to get me. She told me that my older brother Scott and my #1 son were indeed on their way to pick me up ... but they had gotten a flat tire so they would be a little late. (Their frustration level might be a little elevated, too, I was thinking) Mom said I should call their cell phones to get the latest timeframe. OK.

I called #1 son's cell phone, who gave me an update on the flat tire, then passed the phone to Scott:
Scott - "I suppose you heard the news"
me - "What news? Did Dad die already?"
Scott - "Oh crap. I thought Mom told you."
So that's how I heard the news: standing at a pay phone near baggage claim in the Seattle airport. My eyes start to well up. I guess I knew that he only had a few days left to live - and it takes 24 hours to get there - but somehow, I was hoping to see him before he died. Not to say goodbye; I did that in July when he was still aware of the world around him, and knew who I was. Maybe I wanted to see him one last time to confirm his frailty and to determine that yes, it was OK for him to go now. Or perhaps I just wanted to be there with my mom at the moment it happened. But I didn't get there in time. He died soon after my airplane took off, about 22 hours ago.

Once I got off the phone I tried to collect my luggage, but the entire carousel had been emptied while I was talking with Scott, and the Baggage Nazis had moved all unclaimed bags (mine) to the lost luggage area. So I spent the next 10 minutes trying to track down my two suitcases. I felt like telling the people at the Lost Luggage desk, "Look, my dad just died, and I really don't have the energy to deal with lost luggage at the moment." Fortunately, they retrieved my bags before I resorted to using my sob story. I am obviously not above milking the situation for the highest pity factor I can get.

While I was waiting for Scott and #1 son to arrive from the tire repair place, I changed from a southern hemisphere sundress into northern hemisphere long pants and dug out my long winter coat and mittens. There was 8 inches of snow in Seattle at the time. Brrrr. Scott and #1 showed up soon after, with hugs all around. They were remarkably calm in spite of the recent flat tire. On the 2 hour ride back to Bellingham, we had lots of time to talk and process. We agreed that when I called my mom from the airport, she probably didn't want to tell me that Dad had died because it would get her started again, which is perfectly understandable. But poor Scott felt absolutely awful for having delivered such emotional information in that way. It doesn't matter. Bad news is bad news, no matter who delivers it or how it's delivered.