Day 1/Day 2- Clug

 “Your bag is in the airport” announces my air tag and I breathe a sigh of relief. After last years’ experience with Air Canada, where my luggage joined the pile of homeless suitcases, I did not expect much. I often wonder if my suitcase is in a deep depression wondering why I abandoned it, or perhaps it has found a nice person to adopt it. I must confess I do like my new carry -on so much better as it has four wheels and takes off at a moment’s notice. No more temper tantrums from the old two-wheel suitcase that would refuse to move if it stubbed its wheel somewhere. Meanwhile, a fellow traveler on our plane arrived at the baggage carousel only to find one side blown out and the lining barely holding the clothes together. Certainly, it was bullied by all the other suitcases jumping up and down on it.

“Why Romania?”, is the question people kept asking. “Why not?” I retort. I can’t give you one reason why I wanted to go to Romania. Could be the Eastern European rolled stuffed cabbage or maybe the plum brandy that knocks you off your feet, then again it might be the old women in their head scarfs, printed skirts sturdy legs and fallen arches, or the painted wooden churches. I don’t know why I wanted to go; I just did.

Entering Cluj you see the Russian architecture of the communist era. It is not until you get closer to city center, then the architecture changes and the old city emerges with cobblestone streets, Catholic and Orthodox churches, monuments to past kings, and priests. It has a way of wearing its history with pride but ask a Romanian and they will tell you the Russian occupation was a dark time for them.

We all piled into a large van and were promised an exciting day by our fearless leader, Jerome Woodhouse, and Daniel his side kick from Romania. Together they are like a comedy team feeding off each other. They are both entertaining and professional.

It’s the first half hour in the bus and we come to a screeching halt in front of a house with an elderly woman dressed in black, peacefully enjoying the sun. Out jump 9 Americans, two Canadians, and on Romanian all with cameras and huge smiles on our faces. Of course, it is perfectly natural to invade someone’s home, piling into the yard, and trying to convince the younger generation that “Great Grandma” wanted her picture taken. As it turns out she did, and within minutes we had her daughter, daughter-in-law and great granddaughter posing for pictures.

That set the tone for the rest of the day with stops along the way to photograph men loading grass into wooden wagons, and families loading corn for feed into corn cribs, watching a water wheel turning and pounding wool into blankets while another older woman fed hot water onto the wool. A felting process I thought stopped back in the last century or so.

We finished the day by joining a parade of cars honking and winding their way to bring the groom to the bride’s home. Again, we all piled out of the van, mingled with the crowd dressed in their finest or native costume and we, dressed in our finest jeans and Patagonia shirts, with cameras ready to shoot the festivities. You don’t think it is perfectly normal to have a van full of strangers join in the celebration? We were welcomed with glasses of plum brandy, cabbage rolls, cake, and lots of laughter.

As the wedding party hopped into cars, we followed in our van. At the edge of town everyone unloaded from their cars, and us from our van, and strolled along the road through the town to the church. Click, Click, click was the parallel sound to the drum, and violins playing beside us. A hike up to the church where finally the bride and groom come together, the priest shows up and into the church everyone goes. All the guests waving us in to witness the marriage. After about a half an hour we all made our way back to the van and to our guest house for the next two nights in the Maramures region. Don’t ask where that is, none of us know.

To the wedding couple who allowed us to join them, I wish them a long and lively life.

It’s Olive here. I am having an anxiety attack in the van at the Delaware Water Gap campground. I had to take my mind off of it and my Mom just opened her computer, so I decided to write the blog tonight. Anyway, I am sitting on her lap and blocking the computer, so I have to be the one to write.

It is raining, thundering and lightening and my parents do not seem the least concerned. I am shaking violently, so if I miss-spell words or get my sentences wrong it is because I am having trouble typing while shaking.

I am not sure why we have had long days in the car, but I am being told it has something to do with home. I have to tell you; my Mom can really pick the places that we stay. The KOA campgrounds are fine with me but no, she has to go off and find the places that “look so charming by the creek, in the woods” as she puts it. Doesn’t she know in West Virginia that creek and woods don’t exactly jive with charming?

Last night we drove into Elkview, WV. I did a google search and this is what they said. “It is a small town on the outskirts of Charleston. It is fairly average for West Virginia which is to say it’s pretty crappy by most standards.” She should have looked that up instead of falling for the description of creek side and wooded with birds singing. We drove down this long dirt road, getting deeper and deeper into the woods, with more and more pot holes until we came to a large dumpster overflowing with garbage. There was a cabin with a guy of questionable appearance, but my Mom, being my mom, rolls down the window to ask him if this is the campground. I decided to start barking to protect her in case he got any ideas.

He pointed to a sign with a number to call, which she did. Next thing I know she tells Dad to go on down the road and look for campsite #7, that is ours. We pull in (mind you there are other trailers there, but some looked to have been camping there since the 70’s.) and she gets out. Does this not sound suspect to you? A long dark, deep in the woods road, rotting garbage, no one to check you in just a voice on the other end of the line. I thought it best to stay in the van, but I am not a free agent in my desires, so the leash goes on and I am out of the van.

For one second, that was it. Suddenly there are a volley of shots from a 22 rifle and I am back in the van. But she isn’t. She is telling me, they are just a gang of kids up the hill taking pot shots at rats or something. Seriously, has she lost her mind? Pot shots at rats, gang of kids, 22 rifles, she has, she definitely has lost it. They slept fine, but me, I had one eye open all night.And this morning we were all alive, the birds were chirping. I think that is the only thing right in the description.

Earlier in the day we went to the Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill, Ky which was beautiful with large maple trees overhanging the main street (now a walkway). The buildings were really beautiful, but of course they would not let me inside. I did hear they had lovely shaker chairs, chests, pegs, brooms and interesting pictures of the people that lived there. At one point there were 500 Shakers in this town. I concluded after hearing the conversation, that these Kentucky Shakers were a bit more liberal because when they were told by the New England Shakers not to drink tea or coffee, they ignored the order. Dad loves the simplicity of their craftsmanship and their ingenuity. Mom just goes along with what Dad wants, but she is such a voyeur because she reads all the stories and then makes up her own stories about these people. She seemed to get a kick out of the woman who said when she died she would be known for her chair. Apparently, everyone had and made their own chair.

Mom did burst my Dad’s bubble when she stated; “You know, the place didn’t look like this in the 1800’s. This beautiful avenue we are walking down with the overhanging maple trees was a main public highway with horse manure, pigs, goats, carriages, mud, and merchants all going back and forth. Then the Confederate soldiers came in droves right down the middle of the street demanding to be feed by the Shakers. Those beautiful maple trees here, had to have been baby stubs just starting to grow.” Boy, how to burst a bubble. So much for the illusion of a nice shady avenue to stroll down while not touching your Shaker brothers. I do recommend this as a great place to stop.

Well friends, it is time to say adieu. I love this blog thing. I might have to have my own blog when I get home. I could tell you my adventures of the best place to hunt squirrels, the dogs that are stuck up and go around in their clicks, the best place to pee, and most of all where to swim. Oh, and a thank you to my Dad for drugging me, I am not shaking quite as hard. And a thank you to my Mom for letting me take over her blog.

Just a couple of picture:

Mom’s too tired to write the blog tonight so she told me to do it. It’s been exciting since we went to Oregon to meet my other favorite girls, Olea and Ellery. I know Tallulah and Matilda won’t mind that I spent time with the Seattle cousins. I spend most of my time with them. I’ve got to spread the love you know.

First of all, I got to stay in an Airbnb and sleep on the sofa and the king size bed. Heavenly. I went to the beaches and ran until I thought I could not take one more step. I created quite the stir when I showed all the people on the beach my Olympic swimming style.

But all that fun is behind me now and we are on our way home. Somehow, I hurt my front paws and I was limping pretty badly. I was kind of happy not to be running wild, but don’t tell anyone, I don’t want them to think I am a woos. We stayed in someplace called Rawlins, where they had a pretty cool dog park. I am starting to rate the RV parks by how good their dog parks are. And I am pretty hip now, I know exactly where they are, how the gates work etc.

Steamboat Springs was amazing. Except I had to go to the vet for my foot. Who knew running in the sand could mess up the pads on my feet. Steamboat is huge with tons of houses on the hillsides, they are everywhere you look. Stowe would be so upset, they have no ridgeline rules here. The ski trails look pretty good and steep. When we left we climbed out of Steamboat on Route 40 and came to a flat upper plateau where you could see cross country ski marks everywhere. My Dad was drooling, worse than me.

We stopped at this overlook which took in the San Juan mountains and acres of fields. Really stunning but I got bored and figured out how to get rid of my collar. Oh boy, did I have fun. I took off down the hill onto a very rocky area where they could not catch me. Then I really fooled them because I pretended to come back but took off up the hill when they got close to me. I was going to come back at my own pace, but they started to leave without me. I have never run so fast to catch up. What would I have done if they left me? No naps in my Mom’s lap, no belly rubs from my Dad, no gourmet food, no comfy bed. I guess I don’t have to tell you, they were not pleased.

Of course, they weren’t going to leave me, but it scares me thinking about being without them. And so tonight here we are in Kansas. Talking about being scared, the woman at the check-in gave us a code to the basement of the house if tornadoes come. Now that is something I have to think about, it sounds pretty bad. But I am told there has to be wind and there is none tonight.

Why would Todo live here? Look what happened to him, he ended up somewhere over the rainbow. That is not for me, thank you very much.

Do you notice that I have not had a say in this blog for quite a long time? I finally pitched a fit here in Point Reyes and I have gotten a say.

I want to tell you that I have not settled down, I still pant excessively even on Peggy’s lap. Well I actually give up after awhile and sleep. BUT, don’t have me go through one of those damn tunnels. They totally freak me out. What is a tunnel anyway. Why on earth do we have to go underground?

If I wanted to go underground it would be to chase gophers. I never knew there were such animals but I am very interested in finding them. I managed to dig up Janie’s lawn twice going after them. It was recommended that I not do that, but who can resist.

I was so excited to arrive at Janie’s house. I was the first one in the door, I sniffed everything, and promptly made myself at home on the couch. I got kicked off immediately which I do not understand. I chose the couch that was not white so what is the big deal? After that I got them to put my blankets on and I settled down for the MOST comfortable nap since this nightmare of a trip began.

I don’t know if I can take much more, where are we going and why can’t we just go home. Seriously what is wrong with Vermont. Ok, I agree the beaches are cool, and there are some pretty amazing smells BUT I don’t get to go off the leash and run around like I do at home. I tried to get them to leave me with my cousin Janie, after all she had a familiar smell as Peggy, but once again the dreaded leash was put on and I had no choice but to follow.

Yesterday in the Golden Gate park I was almost assaulted by a goose. I’ve got to tell you that goose was bigger than me. Not only that but there was a whole gang of them. I know they have gangs in San Francisco but Goose Gangs. They don’t need guns, they have those pointed beaks that look like they could kill you with one bite. I learned to stay clear of them.

Oh Maggie, why have you forsaken me? You said Henry was lonely without me. The least you could do is come get me. We are going to Oregon tomorrow. Do you realize this is as far as I can get from home in the U.S. Are these parents crazy or what?

We visited the International Museum of Folk Art in Santa Fe. I was in love from the moment I stepped foot in the door. Since so many of my sculptures are characters with stories that I create while making them, this museum was made for me. I took so many pictures while there, but none of them did the figures justice.

We spent three days wandering around Santa Fe where I became more aware of the influence of folk- art. When we left, we drove the Turquoise Trail and all along the way there was evidence of art assembled out of found materials. Bicycles on poles, painted bright colors, fish swimming in trees, giant birds and horses looking like origami but made of steel. Rusted pieces welded together to make all kinds of figures and shapes.

We pulled into Cerrillos, where Young Guns was filmed in the 1988. The town was hardly a town but in the center was a Catholic church, in the mission architectural style. Outside the church was a figure of Christ made out of a tree trunk, and inside the courtyard were the most beautiful statues of Mary, and an angel, also made from tree trunks.

The simplicity of folk art is what speaks to me. Look at the lines of the faces, and the hands, or the clothes, the suggestion of the smile, the eyes. The carved figure are crude but at the same time elegant and complete. Many times, we continue to embellish, when one simple line says it all.

It has been years since I have been in Santa Fe. It has grown considerably, but the old historic section of town is still there and as charming as ever. The forest fires are around Bandolier State Park, Taos and Las Vegas, NM. You can see the plumes of smoke in the not too far distance. The wind is blowing over 15 knots where we are and no plans to stop for the next couple of days. It is a bit un-nerving. We had planned to go to Taos, and Bandolier State park, it looks like we will be heading away from there, and over to Chaco Canyon.

We have stayed in some out of the way places with no Wi-Fi, hence no blog. Harvest Host brought us to a place in Amarillo called Mariposa. The pictures showed a beautiful glamping tent, a purple and yellow house as a community center and four RV sites. The philosophy was that of Biosphere I and II, an environmental experiment and artist in residence. Tailor made for me.

Except we drove down a gravel road dotted with rather unfinished houses, to the purple and yellow community center we were instructed to look for and arrived to a place that looked abandon. Our campsite was fashioned on a platform of dirt, stones, and scrub. It was 101 degrees, no shade whatsoever but a small breeze made it bearable. Clearly nothing grows here, and my dream of a place filled with green plants, and artists painting was far from reality. Not to be judgmental we stayed. We opened every window, the back of the van door, the side door,  put up the sun shades, put the chairs on the shady side of the van and began our night.

Shortly after that, the new EKKO Winebago pulls in with a couple from Oklahoma. Same reaction as us, but they also decided to stay. I got to tour their camper which is the same size as ours with better layout and fabulous storage underneath. However, I love my Winnebago Solis “TA DA” and have no plans to trade it in. They were very friendly and it was nice to have them there in this desolate place.

Hours later, the stars came out, the desert became quiet, the breeze blew gently through the van and I slept one of the best sleeps I have ever had. So, we should remember, sometimes it’s not about the first impressions, sometimes it is worth staying with the situation. Would most people have turned around? Yes. Will it look better in the summer, maybe? Would I recommend it, probably not, but I was glad to be there.

Olive’s Blog:

Hi Folks, Guess what? I won! I am now in the front seat of the car, with my cozy dog bed sitting on my mom’s lap, stopped my panting and sleep soundly listening to Audiobooks. I am not so sure she is comfortable, but I heard her tell my dad it’s better than all my panting. HA, I knew that would drive them crazy. I have peed in places so fancy like the Philbrook Museum, downtown Santa Fe, and the International Folk-Art museum. I really do not understand why those places will not let me in. I’d like to be educated too. Oh and I forgot to tell you, I ate in this cool restaurant on the second floor so I could look over the balcony and check out the handsome dogs on the green below. No short-term romance for me however. I still would rather be home but I am getting used to this vagabond life. NOT!

Images from the International Fold Art Museum. I did not work on these and some are a bit hard to see due to the lighting. The sculptor of the Indian women is one of my favorite, Alan Houser. I am a big FAN.

Why Tulsa? Our friend Chris Curtis, who is a well renowned sculptor from Stowe, was delivering his sculpture to a client here in Tulsa. Chris conceived of this sculpture, then built it with a 3-D printer and had it fabricated in Vermont. It is entirely made with stainless steel. His idea was to tour with the sculpture, stopping along the way to erect it at various museums. His truck is outfitted with a hoist and he has it all fitted very carefully to the back of his truck and the trailer. He has called this sculpture “That Place in the Stars,“

We met Chris at the Philbrook museum around 3:30 pm, as the raising of the sculpture was to happen at 4:00. I expected more people to be there, but the only other person was Chris’s daughter who flew in from San Francisco. It took Chris about 45 minutes and it was finished. It will stay at the Philbrook for a week and then it will be installed in his client’s garden just around the corner from the museum. Meanwhile, the public gets to enjoy this spectacular sculpture reaching its arms to the clouds, pointing to whatever star you wish upon.

We drove in from Bentonville, AK where we spent three VERY rainy days. It poured almost the entire time, I thought our camper would float away. I never thought I would say this, but I could move to this town. It is really amazing with all of the trails, parks, dog parks, and museums. The Crystal Bridge Museum of Art is not to be missed. Nor the walk through the botanical gardens to get there. Sculptures everywhere, and creeks overflowing with water from the rains. Before you even get into the museum your breath is taken away by the architecture. Curves, and arches with interior walkways stretching out from the center lobby. Every turn there is a new form created either by shadows, or reflections or glass or wooden curved ceilings. I cannot even begin to describe it.

Once you are in the museum you start from a central circle with soaring ceilings. The museum is free. There was a special exhibit called the “Dirty South” which should not be missed if you are in the area. I believe it is a traveling exhibit, if it comes near you do go. The South is recorded in the art through various mediums, which emphases a culture steeped in tradition. Having gone to West Africa, a lot of the art resonated with me. I could trace the similarities in the dances, effigies and costumes worn in the Ivory Coast.  As I go to these various exhibits of Black culture I leave with a sense of despair for my ignorance. As a child of the 60’s and a child who grew up with integrated schools, friends that were black, I thought I was enlighten, but the more I read, the more exhibits I go to, I realize more and more the privileges I have been awarded by being white and how flawed is my thinking.

If you find yourself in the South, make it a point to go to Bentonville. I will never move there because of Arkansas politics but I would love to have the museums and parks planned out in such a spectacular way in Stowe. It could be done but we do not have the Walton’s to pay for the amount of money it takes to create such a place. This could be bad or not. We will never know.

One thing about going to National Parks is the camping is great except for no Wi-Fi. We are now in Bentonville AK and our campground has Wi-Fi.

Olive has something to say and I warn you, I do not think it is going to be ladylike.

“Whose idea was it for me to come along? I promise I will never hide from the dog sitter again. We have long hours in the car, anything over 5 minutes is long as far as I am concerned. You would think after 1600 miles of panting in the back seat they would get the hint and turn around and go home. I really find them impossible. As if having to ride in the back, strapped to a seat belt isn’t bad enough, they stop at the most disgusting rest stops, expecting me to pee by the garbage. When I finally get to sleep in “our bed”, I take as much room as I can out of revenge. Just as I am settling down, feeling pretty smug, the thunder and lightning storms start up and there I am panting away clinging to them. It is absolutely embarrassing, but I am so scared. Maybe Maggie will read this and come get me. “

Enough from Olive. When the storm came in, I was reminded of the storms in Pennsylvania as a child. It has been awhile since I have heard the thunder rolling continually while the lightning cracks away. Those storms always seemed to go on for hours. This one certainly did and seemed even longer with Olive panting in my ear. In Vermont they seem to pass quickly, are not as dramatic and the thunder and lightning don’t seem to happen simultaneously.  

We have had only one hot day, the rest of the time it has been like home, 50-60 degrees. What surprises me is the lack of foliage in most of the areas. Spring does not seem to be any farther along in Tennessee and Arkansas than in Vermont.

The Smoky mountains, it says, is the most visited Park in the world. I find that hard to believe. But the windy roads through miles of rock, trees and rhododendron and the vistas offered are beautiful. There was much fog, but it floated around allowing glimpses of the valley below. This area seems very much like Vermont, also areas of Pennsylvania, Virginia and North Carolina. When I think of the South I think more of the coastal areas and warmer weather.

Below are pictures taken along the way. How about that turtle? He was at the Indian Mounds where we road over gravel roads to this amazing out of the way site to view the mounds. Nothing in site but the turtle and the birds. A great place to have lunch and learn about Indian mounds.

We have made it to Bentonville, home of the Walmart fortune. At dinner tonight, I made the mistake of mentioning how Arkansas is one of the states against abortion. The waiter did not take kindly to this remark. I will have to learn to keep my politics to myself, but I am so distraught over this I find it hard. I am old enough to remember back of the house abortions and friends risking their lives. I am sick that our country is going backwards.