Frankfurt am Main

Marion from the department here, invited me to come to Frankfurt the weekend after Marion from France returned to Normandy. Frankfurt has a magnificent Opera house.

and catherdral

I had a good time getting to know Marion better. The day was sunny and warm. Street musicians were out. People bustled doing their Saturday shopping and sightseeing and simply relaxing. This was my second trip to Frankfurt. The first was in December... This was also a good day.

Back on the Banks of the Rhein

And then, our dear friend, Marion, decides to return to France. A difficult decision.

She gives us a party on the bank of the Rhein. She may not be here in Mainz, but she will be a life-long friend.

Back to Mainz, DE -- April 14

After Anchorage and Rekjavik, I return to Mainz and find Spring.

The Plaza by the Dome in the City Center no longer hosts Weinacht Markt but instead, a Farmers' Market instead.

Super, super fresh eggs are available -- an apparently exhausting task.

I celebrate Easter on the banks of the Rhein with an egg that Weina decorated for me, a bottle of wine and a picnic

with my friend Weina.

I discover the Botanischer Garten that is between my room at the Berno Wissman Haus and my office.

A fantasy land with plants and trees from many parts of this world

The garten is part forest

complete with dryads.

And then, Iceland -- April 10

Icelandic humor/angst at graffiti park.

Church of Hallgrimur on Skolavorduholt Hill in Reykjavik. Supposed to reflect the landscape of Iceland. One of the most amazing architectural designs I've seen.

I love the practicality of the buildings sided with corrugated tin, steel, or aluminum. They range from plain unadorned boxes with pitched roofs to simplified Victorians to colorful...

Thank heaven for my down coat that Gabie gave me.

Blue Lagoon. Sulfuric, hot, steam, and bitter wind.

Sign at Gullfoss Falls. Icelanders are obviously friendly. Or is it just this one locale?

Springtime. Gullfoss

Lina at the geysir

Mid April:

Iceland is, so, like, volcanic and functional.....
Arrive 6:15 AM.
Efficient zip from plane through customs to baggage claim to flybus.
Front seat with excellent view of volcanic rock mixed with snow patches.
Women across the isle is totally drunk and passed out on her luggage and purchases at custom free shop. Doesn't have a coat but an icelandic cardigan. At her stop the bus driver calls her. She doesn't wake. He shakes her gently. Eyes opened then closed again. He called her and shakes her gently a second and then third time. She wakes and doesn't want to get off at the stop but maybe just a block further? No. Not possible. She gets annoyed and points out she only has a sweater. A man two rows back, in Icelandic, says (later translated by person behind me talking to his English speaking girlfriend) " This is your stop you drunken bitch". The woman rises in fury and screams back at him, and, from the isle takes her red suitcase and throws it out the bus door onto the snow, screams at the driver, who is helping her with her packages and stumbles down to the steps and blocks the doorway a couple of times getting her last words in. The driver is shaking from anger, the man my age sitting next to me is embarrassed. I think how sad it is that she is like that.

The landscape is flat. You can see the sea. Low functional buildings hug the port areas. Grey, snow sputters. The bus careens around the round-abouts and slides into the stops through the slush.
Reyjkavik.
Hilly.
I transfer to a minibus and come to Fosshotel Baron. It is about 7:30 or 8:00 AM and check in time is 4:00 PM .... The young man at the desk finds me a room anyway, as I stand there in a stupor. I drop my luggage in 413. Go down and pay 1000 krona for the hotel breakfast. They have locks and gluten free bread for me.

I sleep for about 5 hours and then walk Reykjavik's main shopping street. Sunshine, sleet, sunshine, ice wind, incredible church on top the hill with wind chill factor feeling like -5 degrees. Statue of Lief Erikson. Fancy Queen Ann architecture of corrogated tin. Park for graffiti that continually changes. Across the bay, bluffs. A feel of mini San Francisco, not as steep, not as old, not as fancy, not as dirty, not as big....but still
Back at the hotel.
Must find a restaurant. That means going out in the wind again. Thank heaven for my down coat.
I like it here.
Blue Lagoon tomorrow, maybe golden circle the next day. Then, Germany.
And yes, people speak English as well as Icelandic. Polite.

I’m happy I am visiting Iceland. What glorious landscapes. I understand why only 300,000 people live here though. They have to be tough, really tough. I also understand why people drink so much despite exorbitant liquor prices. I have a few myself. Whooeee. Wind, then wind and rain, wind and sleet, wind and scattered sunshine, rainbow, wind....freezing wind. At the Blue Lagoon I soak my body in geothermal superheated seawater while my wet head, hair and ears freeze in the wind. Picture milky blue green water with steam rising off it against black lava. It is good for a couple of hours, destroys my hair. I decide Icelanders may not be naturally blond, but probably have blond hair from the sulfur in the water. Don't know where the blue eyes come from.... maybe staring at the snow bleaches them or their eyes try to match the color of the glacial ice. The result, beautiful clear eyes. Some eyes are dark lava black/brown...

On the Reyjkavik bus back from the Blue Lagoon, I talk with a young film project manager from Sweden, Lina Linde. She wants to rent a car and explore but is hesitant drive around by herself.

Lina and I rent a car and drive through the most agricultural of Iceland. Rolls of hay, deep drainage ditches, barns shaped like a quonset huts on top a bigger box, icelandic horses -- small and shaggy, isolated homes and very small villages. We continue onto a volcanic plain to see the Hvita River roar over Gullfoss Falls. It’s bone biting cold with the horizontal rain. pure heavy water falling in two cascades with a turn into a volcanic valley. Colors are monochromatic broken by tourists’ orange rain suits. Spray. Wind. Thunder. The Romanticists’ awesome scene.

On we go to fumeroles and geysirs. Poisoned land, sulfur fumes, pleasing yellow and red mud colors. The geysir belches for us. When it does more than belch, it is taller than Old Faithful. This is my first geysir.

We spend the following hours looking for restaurants in small (and I mean 150-400 people small) seaside villages. No restaurants are open until 5:00. We miss the national park and 1km deep lake with crystal clear water, all in search of food...

Lina and I have a great visit about the lives of people involved in art, trying to make a living and the differences between Sweden and the U.S.

My last night in Iceland I wake at 2:30 and am in Frankfurt by 12:00 PM.

Alaska and Grandbabies -- April 7

Then Alaska

Three nights and two days with Melsia, Zach,

Madeline Grace Sophia
Who, for some reason, didn't recognize me -- go figure --

And Marshall Drake Augustine
Who did.

All I can say there is that I love them and am so thrilled to be the Grandma of such great, intelligent, beautiful, precocious, adorable... oops do I sound like a Grandma? Anyway, Marshall and Madeline are pretty great. Their parents aren't so bad either! It is fascinating to see the changes that about seven or eight months bring when people are only in their first and third year. If you doubt my veracity regarding the stellar qualities of my grandkids, just go to http://drakesway.blogspot.com/

Grass Valley -- Hometown. late March-early April

So, then I went to northern California; Grass Valley, my home town; The part of California (with the exception of the east side of the Sierra) I most belong to. Of course, since it was home, I didn't take pictures. Who takes pictures of home?

I did, however, meet and have lunch with five women I went through grade and high school with. That's not counting Martha, my buddy, my friend since first grade, my touchstone regarding 'the meaning of life and all that stuff' as well as the big R (retirement). It was great visiting with Martha and with Doris (Marth's mom and another adopted mother figure for me).

I looked at houses and thought of living in Grass Valley again. Nope. You can't really go home again. I can't anyway - wherever 'home' may be. I don't know since I'm probably a victim of the postmodern concept of home. Home is becoming a network of people I know, love, care about, and have interests in common with -- an amalgam of people and places.

I got to spend time with Gwen. My mom's best friend and a mom/mentor to me since I was 5 and she 21. She let me video her while she told me stories about both sides of her family and about growing up in Hawaii. About how blood ran out of a corner drug store into the street after the bombing when she was 10 or 11. About searching for and gathering food in the mountains because food was shipped in for soldiers and sailors but not for local people. What it was like living in an essentially Military occupied city where it wasn't safe for girls to go. Of meeting Carl and only dating him after he promised to dress as a civilian. Of marrying him and coming to the states.

The picture is of Gwen when she was four or five and won a hula contest. She's a wonderful, intelligent, strong, strong woman. I love her.

Hemet. Southern, CA -- 23-29 March

I had promised Mom Grover that I would visit. So I did. We had some good talks and I contemplated the next quarter or third or fifth or eighth of my life. Things I'm afraid of and things I look forward to.


Mom is a wonderful mentor as well as model of a graceful way to reach 94 years of age and still be sharp and independent and loving. A rare achievement.

Tucson -- March 2011

Then Tucson. Warmth, sun, blue skies, drought shriveled cacti, and brown warmth. My best memory? Sitting in a stadium in the foothills watching Ellen play tag football as the sun set.


Such an incredibly car oriented city seemed strange after Germany. But, there are fascinating aspects everywhere.


I searched and searched for a new home in my price range.... I was unsuccessful. Saw some I really liked though. Just not the perfect one yet. Maybe later?

Delaware County, NY, February 2011

I got to watch Tianna and Roy create the right mixture of dirt for seedbeds in the hot house.


And admire the chickens. Tianna's big grey rabbit lives in this hot house too. The chickens are friendly.


Yes, It was cold and snowy and even blizzardy while I was there -- and obviously had been for a while.


REALLY, really cold. But, I had a wonderful time talking with Tianna and her friends; riding through a blizzard from the farm and heading straight to a fantastic birthday party in midtown Manhattan; and seeing a , literally, 'down to earth' life-style while listening to the dreams of a group of people in a beautiful but harsh corner of the country.

Amsterdam in February

Amsterdam was beautiful, strange, and cold. Canals at night provided an interesting contrast to the shop windows in the red light section.


Wandering and seeing the canals in 34 degree Fahrenheit weather was a good activity; spending hours in the warmth of the Museum of History an even better one. I've seldom found a museum so worth going through slowly....


Yes. There was a little craziness. Who can go to Amsterdam and not indulge? My drug of choice was, boringly enough, a couple glasses of wine. After all, I was on my way to the U.S.


Still, Amsterdam and its illusions were fun to experience, even tamely, thanks to the good company and 'leaving Deutchland support' from my friend Marion.