Wednesday, 1st July 2009 - culture and water

Up at 7, breakfast of pawpaw, pineapple, banana, yellow passionfruit, and then a croissant. We will know not to buy robusta coffee again (arabica next time) and realise that we are spoiled by our regular infusions of Illy coffee at home. I admired my snowdome..




Today's agenda was the Tjibaou cultural centre, built by the French, designed by Renzo Piano. The drive was quite pleasant, past the suburbs of Motor Pool (you heard me..) and Magenta and its small airport. We parked, and went to the ticket counter. Being over a certain age and with grey hair, we paid no entry fee. The walk in was lovely, peaceful, lush vegetation. The entry hall was large and open, but there seemed very few people. We walked up and down, admiring the unusual buildings. They really are beautiful structures - like pods arranged along a central spine. Inspired by a collection of huts in a village? The soaring exteriors are skeletal grey weathered wood.









We looked at the shop but were not inspired to buy. We looked at the art exhibitions which were quite interesting with some lovely carvings. We watched an arty movie/presentation in the cinema, showing Kanak culture. I took lots of pictures, including a shot of one of the local fashionistas in the latest Noumean fashion statement, seen everywhere - a floral muu-muu and woolly scarf. Then temperature is below 30, so a scarf is de rigeur.


There are some terrific sculptures in the gardens,



and a very amusing cow made of corned beef tins:



Alas, my sunglasses decided they liked it there, so they hid from me when it was time to go. Cést la vie. We sampled Orangina at the cafe (Martin's favourite orange drink), then set out for home and lunch.

We had not planned to go to the supermarket again, but the car had other ideas. A few wrong turnings saw us heading back to the Geant Sainte Marie, so we yielded, and there we were again, putting stuff into our shopping basket. More icecream, chocolate, salmon for dinner. There was a whole shelf full of all sizes of Orangina. Then as I turned around I saw a shelf full of Chateau Martin. Hmm. I wonder which he would prefer?





Home for lunch, a sit down, and then..... wait for it.... a swim! Mum and I togged up, gathered mask and snorkel, and crossed the road. We found a spot to sit in, left our stuff there, and went into the water. A bit cool, but not too cold. A nice sandy bottom for standing on. Mum's mask filled with water so had to be adjusted. Gosh I hope I am still snorkelling when I am 87. I swam out and around the pontoon, and then over to the side where there were grasses and corals and beautiful coloured fish. Divine. Then we sat in the sun and dried off, and came home for showers and a cup of coffee. Still finishing off the robusta.

Mum and I played Malice and Spite and I won, again. It will be her turn next. Maybe.

Before dinner we all three went on a stroll around the restaurant strip nearby. We'd seen it earlier, and investigated more closely with a view to eating there tomorrow night. As we were out, a pair of black pants fell into my hands and I had to buy them. A girl can never have too many black pants, as my regular readers will know. Mum bought a shell ring. We looked at menus, and there is one place offering one of Mum's favourites, osso bucco. Guess where we will be eating tomorrow?

And now to settle in for the salmon de dieu which Michael is cooking, and maybe some tv and knitting. Aaah.

To market to market

Got up around 7.30 with the sun. Breakfast was excellent pineapple and watermelon, I had a dollop of plain yoghurt with mine. Coffee - local robusta (not good), and then a croissant from the Geant supermarket. I now know which knob turns on the griller on. The croissants were very lightly toasted. Not bad. Plain this time, not chocolate. Scale of 1-10? I'd give it a five.

We decided on a trip to the market, which is on the waterfront down near the centre of town. They are instantly recognisable by the blue roofs.



Out the front were several women with their laptops. Doing what? Fortune telling? Accounting? Facebook?

We did a circuit of the fruit and veg stalls. The quality and variety is much better than either of the supermarkets we visited. There is a wonderful array of bananas, some yellow and ready for eating, some black and ready for what? Some green, no doubt for cooking. We bought some fat little yellow ones, which later proved to be golden and creamy inside, and delicious. We bought some green beans, fresh coriander, passionfruit. There were avocadoes that were big as footballs but we already had one. Loads of papaya, taro, and other root vegetables were alluring.





We bought a couple of souveniers at the jewellery stalls. It is so hard to pick out interesting and acceptable souveniers. Things always look different when you get them home, out of their context. Some things improve and become exotica, other things turn into dross as soon as you get them home and you wonder what on earth you were thinking. At least with snowdomes you know exactly what you are getting....

The fish section was mostly empty apart from one or two stalls, where we saw local fish (vivaneu), white tuna (thon blanc, which we bought), marlin, something de dieu, salmon, very expensive huitres de New Zealand, (oysters), and lots more. We asked, and the local oysters will not be in until Thursday. We'll be back for those as we read that they are good.

Finally, because I love them, I bought two sticky sesame balls. These are sticky something gluteny (rice flour?) with sesame seeds on the outside, and usually red bean paste inside. I had mine for lunch at 10 am, so didn't feel like more lunch later. It had something yellow and creamy inside, sweet peas or beans of some sort. Yum. Sticky, oily goodness.

Goodies in hand, we returned to the car and back to the apartment.




After some relaxation, Mum and I took off again to search for French fashion. We discovered that everything closes for two hours for lunch. We were there at 1 pm, and not much was open. Things would re-open at 2 pm. There wasn't much on show. We looked at some fabulously expensive stuff in Hermes that didn't appeal to me. I bought some cheap silver plain earrings, and some black cotton to mend my black pants with. Alas, they had developed a run in them. (My favourite new (ish) Hedrena black pants! I will throw the old Hedrenas out now, and these, now mended, will become the old ones. Mum kept telling me I ought to take these back, but as I've been wearing them for about a year I didn't think I would get a refund. ) We moseyed around, and succeeded in finding an appropriately tacky Nouvelle Calédonie snowdome for the collection. We found a couple of lingerie shops - Mum can't resist lingerie shops, so we always go in.

Returned to the apartment for a solid afternoon's reading and relaxing in the sun. No swimming yet, but it isn't far off, I feel it in my bones. I finshed reading The Dressmaker by Rosalie Ham, described on the cover notes as a feral SeaChange. Feral it was, and highly amusing, black and grimly funny. Loved it.

I am working on my travel tatting, (same pattern as you see on the banner of my blog) and will return shortly to a second sock. I also have a ball of wool Lien gave me for my birthday (the colourway is Taurus - well done Lien!) with which I will knit the Woodland Shawl.

Mum and I played a card game (Malice and Spite). At one stage the door handle turned and there was attempt at entry. I unlocked and opened the door (should I have been anxious?) and two blokes were outside with their suitcases. Their key said room 607. This is room 607. They apologised and disappeared - back to reception, I guess.

Michael is cooking the thon blanc tonight, with some refried potatoes left over from last night and some green beans. I intend to eat a tub of runny chocolate pudding for dessert. Tomorrow night I think we will go to Le Roof for dinner, or for lunch.

And yes, I might go for a swim.

A midwinter holiday

When the days become shorter, it is dark in the morning, and the weather gets cold, our thoughts turn to warmer climes. Fortunately the Man of the House is a forward thinker, and when it was hot and muggy (January) he began planning our mid-year holiday in Noumea.

We were inspired by Julie and Martin's honeymoon in France to explore France on our doorstep. Only two hours away by plane from Sydney, New Caledonia is a completely different culture. A blend of Polynesia and France, it offered sunshine, French bread and cheese, practice in speaking French, and perhaps some snorkelling.

Michael organised it, and here we are. We are staying in a two-bedroom apartment overlooking Baie des Citrons, close to the touristy section of Anse Vata. We have a fantastic view of the ocean and the mountains, the pine trees. It is glorious.




Alas we also have an aural view - the noise from the generators of the restaurants below impinges on the sound of the ocean. We are used to it now, but would prefer it not to be there.

There is wifi in our hotel, so I am sitting on our balcony typing this. As it is a self-service apartment our first priority was supplies, so after breakfast in the very small hotel breakfast room (coffee and chocolate croissant for me) we set out.

We have a car. It is a manual, so a lot of brain power is used up in changing gears and staying on the correct side of the road. I drive, Michael navigates. There is minimal bickering as we negotiate the way. We stop off at an ATM and get some cash (takes a bit of figuring to decide how much to get) and then Michael navigates us to a supermarket. It wasn't the one we thought it was going to be, but it had stuff. We bought apples and milk and chocolate and washing detergent and eggs and bacon and cheese and bread. Nothing exciting, but it means we will be clean and won't starve. I was interested that fresh milk was not to be found - my execrable French asking for lait was met first with incomprehension, then I was directed to the longlife milk. My requests for oeufs went better, and I had to wait for the fresh ones to be brought in from the delivery truck outside. No plastic carry bags were given away at the checkout, and not any paper ones either. We bought three shopping bags (that polyester strong fabric) and will use them while here, add them to our Hawaiian collection when we get home.




Naturally my attention falls to the ground and discovers a not terribly exciting array of manhole covers.



It is warmer than Sydney is, but it is also windy. We are not inclined to go swimming today, but see intrepid souls out there, some in what looks like a group learning something.

We are all relaxing now after the strenuous shopping and will consider what the afternoon will bring a bit later. We are on holiday speed now, and that is veeerrrrrry sloooooowwwwww.

On the agenda (for later) is some French fashion, and maybe a polynesian muu-muu or two, preferable voluminous and frilly and very bright.

This week targetting.... handkerchiefs

I confess I've been reading Flylady and in that spirit I thought I'd spend fifteen minutes on my scarf/belt drawer. I've ironed the scarves, thought about whether I really should keep belts in there AND all the little soft handbags. It is only a small drawer, after all, and the scarves get all scrunched up with all that other stuff. Some of the larger scarves get hung on special E shaped hangers in the wardrobe, but I don't find that very successful really.

The little handbags have been moved. I'm mulling over the belts. Over the last few weeks I've been keeping the inner tubes from toilet rolls and using those to store smaller rolled scarves in.

Today I'm getting a little more holistic and thought I'd attack it properly. There are fifteen handkerchiefs in there (handkerchieves?) in various states of scrunchdom. So I got them all out and ironed them. There are about four pretty lacy ladylike embroidered ones. There are four or five souvenier ones in garish colours with pictures of kangaroos and koalas and Brisbane buildings. Where did they come from? There are several that might have belonged to my daughter a zillion years ago - a blue gingham teddy bear holding balloons, a duck wheeling a bunny in a barrow. There are a couple of nondescript and quite pretty florals.

What am I going to do with them? Keep them? Put one in my handbag as a ladylike accessory? Is a used handkerchief any more or less disgusting than a used tissue gradually decomposing in one's handbag? Is washing and ironing a hanky more or less ecological than disposing of a tissue? What is the ick factor about using a cloth hanky to blow one's nose? It is years since I have done so.

On the principle of use-it-or-lose-it I am going to put one hanky in my handbag and see whether I use it. I am going to put the others in an accessible place until I see how I feel about using a cloth hanky.

This week targetting.... tea bags

Every so often I decide I want to or should drink herbal teas. Their packets are so enticing, their names so delightful. Different varieties tend to leap into the trolley at the supermarket.

But then they languish at home after one or two are used. This week I am targetting them. There are two St. John's Wort with Berries bags left. I like St. John's Wort, it really does have a cheering effect, so it will be the first to be finished.

Then there is the Chamomile tea, which I ought to drink at night for its relaxing effect, instead of the mug of Chocolait. There are two versions of chamomile. And three bags of the organic fairtrade lemon valerian. And a box of Healtheries Sleep Tea with passionflower and chamomile. I have no trouble sleeping eight to nine hours a night, so I don't quite know why I have all this sleepy stuff.

The vanilla flavoured Rooibos is terrible. Plain rooibos is good but the vanilla flavouring adds a really unpleasant note. That can go into the bin.

Then the liquorice tea, which is deliciously and oddly sweet, but is really old now. Out.

Dilmah's Masala Chai fiery Ceylon spice is great on a cold day, and maybe even on a hot day. I will finish that next.

Buddha's Tears are gorgeous. I love the way they unfurl in the mug, but truly the flavour is not much. Green tea is supposed to be good for you, so I have the obligatory box of that too.

Finally there is the Lipton's black tea. I only have that because when the back yard was being re-done the two builders seemed to drink an awful lot of tea and I was forever making pots of my favourite looseleaf Panyong Congou from T2 or Twining's Russian Caravan. With tons of milk and sugar in a mug it didn't really seem necessary to do more than tea bags.

For myself, a pot of tea around 4 pm is wonderful. Looseleaf, in the teapot, infused for the right amound of time, in a white china cup and saucer, with a very small dash of sugar. Mmmm.

It is likely to take more than a week of targetting that lot. Maybe two or three months instead! I've discovered with my 'this week targetting... little bottles of moisturizer' that incorporating it into the daily routine (instead of just occasionally) the stuff gets used.

Adventures in Sockworld

Every sock I have knitted so far has been the same basic pattern - cuff down. Start with the leg, work down, turn the heel, do the gusset and foot, Kitchener stitch the toe. Five double pointed needles.

My lovely sister bought me Cat Bordhi's Socks Soar on Two Circular Needles last year. The first pair, of course, I knitted for her. They were Columbine Peaks, on two circular needs, and I fell in love with that technique. A pair of plain black garter rib socks for you-know-who was done using the same technique.

Toe up socks have been a bit of a mystery, so I decided to knit Cat's Cable Top pattern, using some blue/grey/white bamboo yarn. What an adventure! The brilliance of knitters is never ending. There have been so many new techniques to learn, with the help of Cat's book and her videos on Youtube. Youtube replaces the skilled granny or auntie in transferring knitting skills.

First was the cast on. I learned how to cast on from my mother - long tail, thumb method, and that's how I always did it. Recently while knitting tams I branched out into the tubular cast on, which is wonderful, but not appropriate for toe-up socks. A quick search revealed Judy Becker's Magic Cast On. Absolutely gobsmackingly amazing. When it worked I called the Man of the House over to ooh and aah.

Then came the toe. This is Cat Bordhi's Turned Toe, which does a kind of heel turn on either side, forming what she calls 'a sleek parking garage for your toes.' Because I am new to all this I have done exactly as she instructs, even though I have my doubts about the size of only 48 stitches around my foot (I usually go for 72). The toe is easy and very inventive, and seems to fit (this is one of the joys of a) toe-up, and b) twin circulars - you can try on as you go.) The toe seems a little pointy, but when it is on it seems fine. The size seems OK, perhaps a little snug.

Onwards around the foot, and then to the gusset. Don't know about you but I hate picking up stitches. I don't know why that is, I just do. So this seemed good -instead of decreasing then picking up, you just increase for the gusset on one of the needles.

Next came the heel turn. I have never done wrap and turn short rows, and this too was a revelation. Cat's videos once more were played over and over, with BabyNetbook on my lap and knitting in hands. This is a fascinating and beautiful process, resulting in miraculous shaped knitting, just right for one's heel. Amazing.

It isn't over yet. I have never done i-cord, and the tops of these socks have a cuff edge of two i-cords twisted and knitted on. I am looking forward to it.

From this one sock I have learned a new and wonderful cast on, wrap and turn short rows, and more. I am definitely a recent convert to knitting on twin circulars.

Photos will be posted when sock 1 is complete. The way it is going, it won't be long.

This week targetting....

Maggie Alderson is a terrific writer and I turn to her Saturday Good Weekend column as soon as I can. A few weeks ago she wrote about the police signs you see on our roads - This Week Targetting...SPEEDING, or SEAT BELTS, or DRINK DRIVING. She wrote about personal grooming. This week targetting... FLOSSING, or CRACKED HEELS.

This has become a mantra in this house now. This week I am targetting ....USING UP ALL THOSE LITTLE BOTTLES OF MOISTURISER YOU GET WHEN YOU FLY BUSINESS CLASS. Business class is wonderful (there is no going back now I have enough points to upgrade), but what to do with those little goodie bags? I have bottles of moisturiser and tiny tubes of toothpaste and sockies galore, saved for years. This week I have chucked all the socks, put the tubes of toothpaste in the cupboard to use them, and am working my way through the little bottles of moisturiser.

What am I targetting next week?

As my favourite saying from the I Ching goes, 'it furthers one to have somewhere to go.' Perhaps the I Ching wasn't really thinking about airline moisturiser, but hey, it is working for me.

"She couldn't even knit!"

Said Gordon Wood's mother, speaking of Caroline Byrne in today's Herald.

Knitting is a fine art indeed, but one suspects that her inability to knit might not have been the only reason she was thrown headfirst off the Gap.

The manhole covers

There was no shortage of manhole covers on our travels. Here is the haul:

Omaha:



Greeley:





Arcosanti:



Desert Botanic Gardens - Phoenix (OK these aren't really manhole covers, but I think they can be included here)





Phoenix:



Glendale:

Phoenix and the Heard Museum

We are home now, and it is too easy to let the trip record slide. There are a couple of days left though, and a couple of wrapup posts to make.

Our last day in Phoenix was a travel day, but that wasn't until the evening. We reviewed options, and decided on a visit to the Heard Museum. After packing and re-packing, and after breakfast (the Holiday Inn Express throws in a good free breakfast, but the coffee is the usual US execrable weak brown water) we set out. Michael suspected there might be beads, and indeed there were. There was a terrific exhibition called Home, which was all about home crafts of the Indians. Rug weaving, beads, jewellery, and magnificent basket weaving. Of course the beads always interest me, but I can see how the basket weaving could become a passion. Such fineness, detail, design. There was a magnificent display of Katsina dolls, too much to take in. I took issue with a display of some fine knitting - one completed legging and the other in progress. The sign said they were being knitted on sewing needles, but a) I did not see any eye for threading yarn, b) their points were not sharp enough to be sewing needles, unless for leather, and c) they looked exactly like my fine steel double-pointed needles. Hmmm.

There was another section which reminded us very much of the Smithsonian Indian Museum. Lots of very little, quite similar, and very wordy displays for each individual tribe. I can just see all the politics involved in these displays. The message is often one of harmony and love for the earth and the sense of solidarity with people, but this fragmentation into tribes is also a message of Us vs. Them.

We had a coffee, and Michael was terribly disappointed to find that there was only one variety of coffee - regular. No espresso. The usual pale weak brown water.

The shop was fantastic, but we are just retailed out. Not that we've bought much in the way of souvies, but we have learned from past experience that what looks good in the US southwest does not look good in a little terrace house in Sydney. The style just jangles. And because my mother is from New Mexico, I really do have enough in the way of silver/turquoise jewellery.

After the Heard Museum we set out in the car without a clear plan. We kind of had a mall in mind, with a food court for lunch, but didn't have any of our usual reference material. All the brochures had been packed or ditched. So we drove around and around, ending up in Glendale. It seemed utterly deserted. Although we found a kind of historic area with shops, there was not a soul to be seen. Could be because it was in the high nineties out there, with a merciless sun. A moment to note: we passed the Bead Museum, and I passed it without a flicker of interest. Yes, bead point has been passed.


We found a Visitor Centre, which was manned, and got some directions. We found ourselves at the Desert Sky Mall and had some lunch from the Mexican place. Tamales for me, my favourite.

We were now in travel mode, so took the rental car back to the airport and started the long process of getting home.

Phoenix, and the Desert Botanic Gardens

The sun shines brightly here in Phoenix, and it has been in the mid-90s (F) so an early start was in order. It is easy to understand why people from colder climates want to retire here. It wouldn't be for me. The constant hard bright sun would drive me berserk after a bit. The flat arid terrain, coupled with the total dominance of the car also does not appeal. There are no pedestrians, the place seems dead, apart from the cars on the roads. Looking at the suburbs it would be impossible to do anything without a car. Contrasting this with the arcology concept of close living, and the way we live in dense inner city Sydney, it seems sterile and terribly artificial. I guess if you went to one of the many churches you would have a social life!

The Desert Botanic Gardens were wonderful, and very different. I spent a lot of time fiddling with my camera settings, learning about RAW vs JPG and all the various options for aperture and speed. It was lots of fun, and I enjoyed taking closeups as well as vistas.

The suguaro cacti are enormous and varied. Here is Michael wearing his Arcosanti t-shirt to give perspective:



The morning light made for some nice views of spiny plants:







A little bird provided his silhouette:



and I enjoyed taking some closeups:













Naturally there were vistas, and I couldn't resist. Especially the one with the sign, where there was a very handy stand for your camera. The timer setting can be very useful!

Prescott to Phoenix, Tuesday 28th October.

A travel day, and a few odds and ends to deal with. We drove from Prescott to Phoenix, which didn't take very long. The zip on Michael's leather bag had sprung, so I'd found a luggage repair place on the web, and used our GST navigator (Uhura) to get us there. How did we manage before the web and navigators? The guys at Cobblestone said they could repair the bag by the next day, and were very affable. Across the street was a Dillard's, our favourite department store. We went over for some retail experience. I always buy bras at Dillards. The service from Jill and the range was terrific, so I bought four. Michael likes a particular brand of shirt, in a hard-to-find size, and found one there. The salesman had the most amazing comb-over hair I have ever seen.

One of the things on the Phoenix agenda was to visit Utopia Street and Utopia Estate. Uhura got us there. Utopia in Phoenix is trailer homes, an estate for the over 55s. We took photos, of course.





Returned to the hotel for another hot tub experience for me, followed by a review of possible activities for the next day. We contemplated a visit to Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin West. This would have been interesting, particularly as Paolo Soleri had spent some time there and learned a lot from Wright, but it was an expensive and extensive tour for which we didn't quite have enough enthusiasm. We are completely vista-ed out, so I suggested perhaps some botanical interest with the Desert Botanic Gardens. That's the plan.

Are we in Sim City?

Those of us who spent far too many hours playing Sim City 2000 will be familiar with the term Arcology. Arcologies were these huge self contained structures with thousands of unseen inhabitants. Some were pleasant looking with greenery, others seemed dark and sinister.

We wondered at the time where the term came from. Now we know. It was coined by Paolo Soleri, a combination of ARChitecture and eCOLOGY. Soleri is an architect and visionary, and his vision is partly realised here in Arizona, in Arcosanti. We visited today, and it is why we are in nearby Prescott.

Arcosanti is out in the arid desert, and his book (purchased at the gallery) says that this is part of the plan. If you can do your living in the arid areas and keep the productive land for producing, this is a better way.

About 75 people live there, and the site funds itself through sales of its cast bronze and ceramic wind bells designed by Soleri. They are indeed beautiful. We went on a tour and saw the innovative architecture. What was most impressive was the way the work spaces are largely open, huge apses, oriented to make best use of sun and shade according to the seasons.

We went on the short tour, given my an almost uninterested young man with multiple piercings. His most enthusiastic comments concerned the very modern swimming pool. He pointed off into the distance at the vegetable gardens, and announced with pride that he didn't eat vegetables. (I class this comment in the same category as those who for some reason take pride in announcing that they don't read fiction. Let's reject Shakespeare and Dickens, shall we?)

We went expecting some earnestness and ideology. There was none of that.

It was very Italianate, with cypresses and olive trees. Soleri is Italian and this obviously reflects his culture.

The aim was to have five thousand residents.

The philosophy behind it is very compelling, and the book makes very interesting reading. I can't help thinking that where I live offers some of the advantages proposed by this architecture. The dense inner city offers community, resources such as libraries and hospitals and schools, restaurants (akin to communal kitchens?) yet privacy, all within walking distance, no reliance on the demon automobile. It is certainly a far cry from suburbia and its sprawl totally dependent on the car.

You certainly need a car to get to Arcosanti though! It is in the middle of the desert.





A selection of the windbells which are everywhere, and which form the business basis of the community:



The ceramics apse



The large community apse, where community meetings are held:



Living quarters, and some of the infrastructure spaces such as library and archives:



They even have their own manhole covers, presumably cast in their own foundry:

Where is our pedometer?

Those of you who read of our adventures in Greece this time last year will remember our obsession with the pedometer and achieving more and more steps each day. So where is the pedometer this time?

It is here, safely packed away. I would be too embarrassed to record the few pitiful steps we take each day. This is the USA, not Greece. We don't walk anywhere here. If we can't park outside the front door, we go somewhere else. Today we went to a mall, and it was pretty spread out, so we drove through the parking lot from one store to another. In Grand Canyon we drove across the street to the restaurant and the coffeeshop. It is sad, really, but somehow the environment just isn't conducive to walking anywhere.

I shudder to think what the scales will make of all this.

Grand Canyon to Prescott, Arizona

Another travel day today. From Grand Canyon we drove through Sedona and Jerome to Prescott. I did all the driving - it wasn't that much of it, and it was through utterly spectacular scenery. We had one or two stops, so there aren't too many pictures.




Sedona features wonderful red rock formations. Jerome is an old copper mining town built on a mountainside, and it is very picturesque indeed. The drive took us through forests and by the side of a river, with trees in their autumn colours. We drove on State Highway 89A which goes over Mingus Mountain on a very precipitous route with lots of switchbacks.

I enjoy using spas and pools in the various hotels, if they are available. Often I am the only one there, but last night at Grand Canyon there were several people - tattooed pierced Okies (described as such by them, from Oklahoma.) There was the usual exchange of 'where are you from'- Grand Canyon is like a United Nations. One of the young men recommended Sedona, so that's why we went. I asked one woman where she was from - 'Arizona, unfortunately.'was her response. I was a bit taken aback, and said I thought Arizona was pretty damned impressive. So much natural beauty. I asked her where she would rather live. In my mind I wondered - Japan? Australia? Scotland? Bali? She responded "Colorado." I had to laugh. What is to choose? Now when we see fabulous sights, like the red rocks of Sedona, we remark to each other that it isn't as good as Colorado.