Biggest Halloween Ever!

Some of my friends from far away have been asking me lately whether people around Utah, being as pious as they are known to be,“ do Halloween”. And let me tell you, my friends, a story about Halloween in Utah County!

This is my second year here, and I don’t remember quite a busy night from last year, but oh my word, my doorbell is probably numb at the moment from all the small and big pilgrims ringing it since 5 PM. I think I stopped counting at 20. And we don't even have the light on the porch on, which was, I thought, a sure sign they would "know".

I personally don’t like Halloween – nothing to judge, just a matter of personal taste – and I never buy candy, so I never open the door on this night. But tonight might have changed my mind forever! I’d rather open the door and share in the fun costumes and eager eyes than be behind closed shutters and looking like the wicked witch of the west to all my neighbors’ kids.

But even before tonight! A friend of mine came to visit us in early October – and the whole town was dressed up for Halloween. She even noticed how, driving along the mountains, outside the Provo city limits, there was Halloween décor out in the middle of nothing, on a hill. The Spanish Fork downtown was also dressed up to the occasion, as early as October 8th!

As my friend put it: "Look! Crazy Halloween decorations in the middle of nowhere!"

From years past, I have been used to people coming dressed up in costumes at work on this day, maybe sharing candy with co-workers and decorating the cubes in dollar store garb. This was Halloween at work to me in the rest of America. Today, at my new job in the midst of Utah County, home of the BYU, things were much, much more different!

Practically every aisle was decorated, and one whole area was enclosed from floor to ceiling in black tarp, with the lights out – as if in a haunted house. Around 3 PM, the entire company stopped working, practically, and every department started playing loud music, according to the theme they all picked for the department: my area had big band, pirate ship music, and the area adjacent to ours had bluegrass music, as everyone there was dressed up as “swamp”, redneck folk.

And then, the spouses (mostly wives) came in with the kids – every family had anywhere between two and five kids, and every other family had one on the way, too. Everyone was wearing a costume, even kids as small as a few months, and some of the clothes were very intricate and home tailored – nothing you can get at WalMart, I am sure. These things were involved! The makeup, too. The kids went by all the departments, and greeted everyone, picking up one piece of candy from each offering bowl, under the close policing of the parents. It was quite a disciplined affair.

Everyone, kids and parents alike, seemed to have a ton of fun! So, yeah, I think I would conclude that they do do Halloween in Utah. And even are serious about it! Well, as serious as you can be about grown men in tights, that is!

The company I work for not only afforded to let everyone play for a couple of hours, but they also paid for all the candy we gave away to folks and they bought treats for everyone, too, in the form of festive donuts, crullers, lemonade and soft drinks.

Now, what all those parents can possibly do with 5 pieces of candy (per department) x 5 kids x 10 departments + candy from all the neighborhood houses + relatives’ houses is absolutely mind numbing to me! But they surely do prepare a lot for this one night of ghoulish fun! I could almost say they could give lessons to the rest of the nation, or at least the parts I have been familiar with till now.

Spanish Fork downtown, decorated for Halloween. We noticed this on October 8th, but I am sure it had been there for a while.

An Autumn Drive. A Random Thought.

My car needed some repairs this week. So, I dropped it off overnight to the dealership and I picked it up this morning, when then sun was not all the way up, yet. They parked it in the parking lot, so it was cool and all covered in autumn dew when I drove it off the lot. When I climbed into the driver’s seat and drove away (forgetting to use my scraper to clear up the windows), I kept cringing at the touch of the cold wheel and I kept pulling my windows down, so I can see if it’s clear to turn. And then I remembered – all this cold and dewy window business felt awfully familiar.

Until May of last year, I never had a garage. Cleaning up the windows in the morning, during fall and winter was second nature before. Waiting for the car to warm up a little before I drove off was, too. All of a sudden all these things that were “normal”, routine, till a year ago were such a huge inconvenience this morning. All because for the past year my car has been sheltered in a garage, away from the elements.

And this is the trouble with life: we forget! We forget where we started. How low we started, and how hard. We get used to the “easy” and we forget we can handle harder times. I have a friend who says “the human body has an amazing ability to forget pain”. And worst of all, we take for granted, like I do the garage and the clean windows in the morning. And the (relatively) warm seats at 7 AM in October.

The past few weeks have been especially hard, with just little bombs blowing up here and there … And I have found myself sighing and telling myself how I’ve had enough and how I want some good news, for God’s sake. But I forget how much good news there is in the span of my every 24 hours. How I still walk and talk on my own, and I am no burden to anyone, how I still have my mind. How I can have a great job with benefits, that allows me freedom to eat and drink and play, when so many people are counting days till the unemployment will run out. How I have a shelter, and a beautiful family, how I love my husband and how he loves me back. How I am greeted every day by three beautiful, healthy, purring cats that never once fail to make me smile. How I still have sight to see the sun and the moon, and the beautiful mountains and the leaves turning. How I have beautiful friends who have not forgotten about me, even after over a year of physical absence! How … I can go on forever now, but you get the idea.

We forget. Way too easily, we do. And I thought to stop for a second and acknowledge some of the things that I am grateful for, even during these hard times.

This morning’s ride was a great reminder of the bigger things in my life – a reminder that I can always handle harder, that I have handled more (even as trivial as this simple ride may sound), and that I am still here, through it all. Today, I am grateful for even the harder things that came our way lately – because I know they will make us stronger and make us happier when things do get straightened out.

But I am not holding my breath. Life will do whatever life will do – hard or easy, its course is its own. In the meantime, I am just grateful for a garage, in the winter.

A Burning Issue

Warning: a couple of times a year, I write about something totally trivial and personal. This is one of those times.

I have never been into clothes. Never been into fashion. I do know how to spell “style”, but that’s about how far it goes with me. I remember my dad telling me all throughout high school and college that no boy will even notice me because I dress like a “golanca” – which means … “rogue”, in a way. Back then, I used to wear his (torn, bell-bottom) jeans from when he went to college, so, go figure!

I could not tell you what goes through my head as I pick a shirt or a skirt or a pair of jeans. Well, my first thought is always: “Holy cow! Is that what people pay for cheese cloth?!” But my second thought is: “It won’t fit”! Unlike the majority of women out there, I hate shopping for clothes and shoes, because nothing ever fits. I have no set size. I can wear a 0, a 1, a 3 or a 4, a 5 or a 7, even a 14 or a 16 – depending on what department I shop in: women, petites, juniors, children, etc… I never know!

Unlike my beautiful sister, who knows exactly what’s in fashion now, in Montreal and Paris, and New York and what is a has been already … I have no clue whether denim is in or “so out”, same thing for chenille, velure or polyester. I have people tell me “oh, purple is the color of the summer” (that’s my favorite color), and I smile, thinking: “well, then, this one year I must be in style, ‘cause I have plenty of purple clothes, thank you very much”. But I never know, and fashion has never, ever preoccupied me!

As long as it’s covered and I am comfortable, I am good!

And that’s one of my criteria: money is first – it has to be cheap to buy it; I feel silly investing a lot in clothes and even shoes; comfort is a close second; if I don’t feel comfortable in something, there is no way I’ll buy it. And fashion can wait.

But lately, I have experienced some strange new feeling. I wake up every morning hating my clothes. All of them! They look like solitary little strange soldiers, lined up to torture me every day! I hate them all! Some don’t fit anymore, some are faded, some are so old I am simply bored by them! But for the first time in my life, I actually have some kind of feeling about my clothes!

I asked my husband if people who buy an expensive car for their midlife crisis have always been into cars, or just one day wake up that they want to buy an expensive car, and they just buy it, outta crazy impulse. I feel the same way: I have never been preoccupied by clothes, but all of a sudden, I want to burn all of mine and spend $5000 on a whole new wardrobe and a whole new ‘style’. Well, a style at all, from the previously non existent one!

Yes, ladies and gents, I am having my midlife crisis and mine is about clothes! True to form, as always – I am a late bloomer (to be noticing clothes just now – people usually have these dilemmas when they are teens!) and a precocious one, too (to be having my midlife crisis at 36, I guess) – but here we go … I am a mess! It still doesn’t excite me to go shopping for them, but I actually notice what women wear around me, to get ideas and figure out what in the world to do with myself next. I have no clue where to start. How do people learn about what looks good on them? How do people buy clothes? Really ...

I have not actually burned my clothes as of yet. I have not even thrown at least one t-shirt in a Good Will basket … I am not sure what will happen, really, but I do know I will have to do something soon! Spending 20 minutes in front of my shelves in the closet every morning trying to decide what to wear needs to stop! That time is for snoozing, not for styling! One is so much more becoming of me than the other.

And for my friends and family who read this and are now thinking “oh, I’ll take her shopping and I’ll show her a few things that’ll look cute on her” – STOP! You know me well enough to know the last thing I could be is a puppet! I am pretty lost, but I still can’t take advice benevolently.

This too shall have to be a self-discovery journey. I just hope I remember to burn only after I have gotten some new outfits to replace the old. It, after all, still needs to be covered first!

I know … I am trifling.

Be Quiet. The Earth Is Awake

“Take a look into a few of the … volumes of the grand geological library of the park … no technical knowledge is required; only a calm day and a calm mind.” (John Muir, about Yellowstone)

Going to Yellowstone National Park this past Labor Day was mostly an accident. One of those trips we planned because, at the very last minute, we realized the summer was going to be over and oops! We didn’t make any plans for the summer’s last hurrah, the Labor Day Weekend. With three days to burn and with so much beauty all around us, it was not hard to pick. Actually, it was hard to pick, because we can never narrow it down to one destination – we have so much to see just within driving distance, we can never pick one thing.

But Yellowstone it was. And, at the advice of one of our friends, we decided to come back to Utah through The Grand Tetons, another amazing work of nature.

We drove up through Utah and Idaho to make it to West Yellowstone, MT on Saturday. The drive is mostly through a “mild” desert, not quite as arid as Southern Utah or Arizona, but still yellow enough to not call it a pasture. Idaho had no potatoes to be seen from the haste of the car! Kind of shocking, really. We stopped for fast food on the way up, just because we wanted to make it to Montana before dark, and get to see some of the sights around town. The KFC in Pocatello, ID had the worst mashed potatoes I have ever had. Ever. Hands down. In Idaho, mind you! And also, KFC was out of … chicken! Yep! No white meat left.

Once you cross the Montana border, everything reminds you of Twin Peaks (its creator, David Lynch is from Montana, of course) or Brokeback Mountain. (Where would we be without our pop culture, right?). The mountains are rolling and green, the pine tree woods are lush and majestic, the streams are cold and crystal clear. The air is clearer. Everything is lush! The grass is soft and green. Log cabins and river stone walls abound. Montana is like coming home, to me. Everything I ever wanted when I am thinking of peace.

Seeing Montana is another dream come true for me. Always dreamed of the tall mountains, the untouched territory, the bison roaming free, the Last Frontier, the Big Sky … It’s all that and more … You just need to explore it – there is no way to do it justice by enunciating what it looked like to my own, biased, naked eye.

The second day, Sunday, we planned to just drive through as much of Yellowstone National Park as we could! As much as daylight would allow, that is. After an “interesting” breakfast (more on the “people” and food of this trip later), we headed west, towards the border with Wyoming. Wyoming, or as much of it as I have seen, is much like Western Montana, relief-wise. Lots of very well taken care of farms, too.

Now, as far as I am concerned, Yellowstone was a total mystery to me. I had no idea what to expect. Every time I would google images of Yellowstone, I would get pictures of wildlife. So, I was not expecting one kind of landscape over another. I had no clue what kind of land I’d be in: woodsy? Desert? Rivers? Falls? Lakes? Prairie grass? No idea!

Coming from Utah, I am always amazed at how diverse this land out here is geologically. How many different colors of rock, and how boulders and sand and everything in between are part of the same cohesive landscape … But Yellowstone is diversity raised to the rank of art. Not only the colors of various soil, or the juxtaposition of rock and grass and woods and clear rivers and deep, cold, serene lakes is breathtaking, but the consistency of every surface is amazing: from sand to crumbling rocks, from mud to clay, from bubbling hot waters to bitter cold mountain rapids – it’s all an explosion of color, substance and movement mixed in with stillness.

Everyone in the park was there to see “creatures”. At every stop, we heard people looking for some kind of animal or bird. I guess those google searches influenced everyone’s expectations after all. I didn’t want to miss out on the beauty of it all, so I took everything in – whether it was a creature (and they were plenty!) or a milky white puddle of boiling clay - I let my senses drown in the richness of it all.

Of course, Yellowstone is famous for the geysers, and mostly for its “Old Faithful” one, which erupts every day, almost every 90 minutes. As we have found out, it’s not all “that” faithful after all – 90 minutes is really an average – it can be 30 minutes or 2 hours … I won’t talk about all the geology behind it all, because you can easily research that for yourself … The geysers were indeed amazing. I have seen hot springs before, but never so active. And so present, and so … noisy.

The Yellowstone Movie

Being that close to an active puddle of sulfuric acid is surreal – you feel like a volcano will erupt in your face any second, but at the same time you feel humble, that the earth shares its life with you so viscerally.

It’s so amazing that these geysers which feel like they kill everything they touch are actually full of life – the signs explain all about the bacteria which lives in them. And there are trees around which are still green, and dragon flies landing on hot rocks. In the middle of so much apparent death – a glimpse that life is perpetual and stubborn.

I loved the geysers, but I also loved everything else about the Park – the Madison river, with its winding banks, full of fly fishers and trout and rapids was my second favorite, I guess. The way wild creatures share their presence with us, humans, also rendered me grateful. We didn’t see the much talked about and warned against grizzlies, but we saw elk, and bison, innumerable crowds of ravens, lots of dragon flies, ducks and geese.

On the third day, we started off towards the South Entrance of Yellowstone, again through Wyoming, and onto The Grand Tetons National Park. They are by far the most amazing and awe inspiring mountains I have ever seen. I have seen mountains taller than the Tetons, but there is something surprising about them! They rise completely straight up, at an 90 degree angle almost, against this clear blue set of lakes (Jackson, Jenn) – and the contrast between one’s tallness and other’s flatness is what makes them stand out. Plus, they are almost completely rocky. There is some pine-y vegetation towards the bottom half of The Tetons, but they are almost completely rock otherwise.

The town of Jackson, WY is the kind of town, at first glance, that I would love to retire to, one day, if it were close to a major airport. It’s definitely a mountain town, a cowboy land, and Western town, all in one. Art stores at every corner, and the architecture is crafted in such a way to not insult or disturb the beautiful landscape around. I also had the best nachos in the whole wide world at The Town Square Tavern, in downtown Jackson, across the central park of the city! Best guacamole and best seasoned ground beef –and I don’t even like beef!

And speaking of food. And of people. In stark contrast to the amazing beauty of this land was the relative ugliness of the people in these parts. I am not sure what it was, maybe it’s such a heavy trafficked area that people in customer service are just so tired of pleasing cranky tourists all day long they are just plain rude! The (dis)service we received was pretty appalling.

On our first night in West Yellowstone, we had dinner at the Bullwinkle’s Saloon and Eatery. The whole service was a train wreck! I asked for a straw three times, till she finally came up with not one, but three of them. Not sure why 3, but … I guess she showed me, huh?! She forgot to put our beer order in the computer. About 20 minutes later, after we asked about them, she said “someone didn’t bring them to you?!” in surprise. After another 10 minutes, she came back to admit she forgot what beers we ordered and to say she will put them in “right now”. She warned us that if Aa. wanted to replace his mashed potatoes with fries “there will be an extra charge because, you see, we need to make the kitchen think. So, they get paid extra for that”. OK! But then, when the food came out, she brought mashed potatoes, still. So, since they “didn’t think”, can we get the surcharge withdrawn? Don’t think so!

I ordered Idaho trout, and I got… a fish, but when I tasted it, it had the most foul taste ever. I have always said I have never met a fish I didn’t like before that night. And what was worst of all – trout is my absolute favorite fish! There was no way you can have a bad trout. Ever. After trying to talk myself that it’s probably my taste buds that got screwed up and the fish is fine, the waitress came back with yet another plate – of another fish but the same sides I had with my first dish: she admitted they gave me the walleye, and not the trout. So, she yanked my “wrong” fish from in front of me, and placed the trout down instead. And yes, the trout was delicious! At the very end, she “apologized” by giving us a free dessert absolutely drenched in chocolate, with the comment: “Well, I figured, everyone loves chocolate, so here you go”. Umm… yeah, everyone but this one (me!). No, they didn’t subtract the charge for the fries! $60 later we wondered where in the world is courtesy and common sense in today’s service world.

The next morning, at The Three Bear Lodge restaurant (we also stayed at Three Bear Lodge, which was beautiful!), my husband ordered the bacon and American cheese omelet. He got bacon and mushrooms. No cheese. The drinks were served by Grumpy (as in the dwarf). I have never seen a person so unfit for working with people. He acted like we woke him up from his nap and if we asked for one more thing, he’d pull his Colt 45 at us right away and then requests would perish! He never did come back with a straw, either. He didn’t talk. He just puffed and threw things … Pretty scary, actually.

People were overall cold up there, and pretty much unapologetic! The nicest man we encountered was the guy who sold us the entrance tickets for The Park – an elderly gentleman who sits in a lonely booth all day, waving people by at Yellowstone Park. Just sweetest man, who “thank you, Sir”-ed us and “have a nice day, Sir”-ed us, and smiled and just loved life! He was not working for tips, either!

As enchanted as we were by nature, we were equally put off by the humankind! Till we got to Jackson, WY, the very last day. In the middle of a strip mall, there was a box with these words on it ”Free Poems Weekly. Take One”. And we did. A small touch of humanity and unconditional kindness.

So, maybe … there is hope. Just like the small amounts of life in the death of the sulfur in the geysers. Maybe, just maybe, kindness and life will exist, albeit in small amounts. It’s worth searching for it, anyway.

From “The Poetry Box” - thank you, Chandler:

“But a single rose
Every petal every thorn
The rain pouring down
The sweet smell tingles my nose
Like the smell of that sweet rose
Raindrops run down my face
Like the tears I cry
Hidden among the cold drops
Tears only visible to your eye
Only you can see through the rain
Helping to relieve some of the pain”

(“You’re a Fallen Petal” – Chandler MyRick – 11th grade student at Summit High School)

"Pandora's Box", in Jackson, WY - please click on the box for pictures from this trip. And enjoy roaming ...

Tomato Jackpot

This time last year, if you remember (I certainly do!!!), I was strolling all the Farmers’ Markets a couple of counties over in search for home grown tomatoes. And almost every time, I would come home either empty handed, or disappointed, with tomatoes that tasted so-and-so, but cost more than the grocery ones.

I love fresh tomatoes! My poor old grandma, God rest her in peace, is probably smiling down on me (I have said this before, too) knowing I love them so much – I used to hate them as a kid and she used to make me eat them every morning. Now, I can’t get enough of them. But not literally!

So, after last year’s tomato drought, I decided to put a few tomato plants in my new veggie garden. I bought about 10 or so, thinking, juuuussst maybe one or two will bear fruit. And holy Christmas! They all did! Don’t even ask me what kind I bought, ‘cause I think I bought one of each kind, telling myself that “well, we’re experimenting and there is no way they’re all going to come out, anyway”. They all bore fruit, and they are all deliciousness in a bowl! Sweet, and ripe, and firm. They are so heavy with fruit, they break the stakes! They are all laying on one side right now, and I have given up trying to tie them up them properly.

My heavy with fruit tomato plants

I have made tons of tomato salads, and cooked with them so far: just put them over pasta, with herbs and such, made omelet with them, soups, put them on the grill, even! Let me tell you, my Southern friends would tell me there is nothing like a fresh tomato sandwich, and that is the pure truth! But skip the sandwich – just slice them up, put some salt and pepper on them and eat them on the side of your favorite … whatever …

My wild cherry tomatoes

I am not tomatoed out yet! I am so greedy, I am not even sharing them! And they keep coming, too! Now, I am looking for recipes on how to preserve them for the winter – who would have thought that in a state where the farmers had trouble growing them last year, I could get such a harvest?!

Till I find just the perfect way to can them or the perfect recipe for a canned sauce, I just bagged several portions of freshly chopped tomatoes for winter chili and I am planning my next salad meal. Cannot wait! Hmmm… the smell of tomatoes on your hands …

Remember Bubba in Forrest Gump telling Forrest about however many ways you can cook shrimp?! Well, that’s how I feel right about now with tomatoes! What else can I do with them?! Good thing we have google for that, and allrecipes.com.

And as for sharing them. Maybe next year. Hopefully.

And in case you forgot Bubba - a reminder

Torn by Contradictions

“God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods. But he cannot save them from fools.” ~ John Muir


They were apple trees. I think. I drive to work every morning through this neighborhood. It’s a mixed bag of old and new houses, some well kept, some not so. Not a cookie cutter business, but sort of a compact but eclectic mix of this and that – all sizes, all sidings, all sorts of landscape, green and desert. In the middle of this small city world, there is a beautiful green and fresh orchard that stretches for a couple of blocks, behind a well kept split rail, white fence, where horses graze in the heat. A fresh, green spot in the middle of asphalt, giving your eye a break in today’s overgrown urban jungle. Or should I say … there was an orchard.

The orchard is sort of a big deal, perhaps, been there longer than the mix-and-match houses, because the neighborhood elementary school adjacent to it is called Orchard Elementary. Judging by the 70’s looking architecture of the school, it looks like it’s been there a while. This week, I drove past the orchard as usual, only to see all the trees cut down to the ground, and a big sign in front of the fence announcing custom homes coming up soon.

My heart sank! I keep trying to forget about it, to not think about it too long, but the poor, beautiful trees laying down and withering – dying - under the desert sun have been haunting me like a bad deed trying to scream out from cover! What a shame! In a place where it’s so hard to grow anything, because of long winters, too much rock and not enough rich soil, too much scorching sun and not a lick of shade, a whole entire orchard that somehow weathered it all is now gone. And for what?!

A page of Americana - with this old truck driving by the "Orchard Elementary" sign

My first impulse was: “Great! We have thousands of empty houses people (me, included) can’t sell in today’s market, all we need is more homes?!” I hated the person who came up with the idea and hated those who cut the trees down. But then my husband reminded me – maybe the farmer is just trying to get out of debt and the money he got from the developer will pay for all his troubles and allow him to live comfortably, or maybe he has a huge loan due to health trouble to pay off, and this will allow him to do that. Maybe his kids need to go to college? And everyone wants new homes nowadays – some families will be happy there.

I don’t know what to think. Sure, those are all good points. But the trees, somehow, to me, have to have a say in all this too. Years and years of fighting drought and wind. Years of trying to be fruitful, despite all adversities. The assiduous care of the farmer, who had to water them, fertilize the soil, prune, mow around them, weed, protect them from pests! All that – gone. In half of a day, all that work, and sweat, and green – gone. Then, the name "orchard" which established a neighborhood (the neighborhood grocery store shopping center is called "Orchards", too), a page of the history of the city, maybe - elbowed aside by "civilization".

Behind the pretty fence, the fruit trees cut down to the ground
(click on the picture for a larger view)

All good reasons for it set a side, I can’t help but feel a big, deep hole in my heart. There is something sad about trees being killed. A little spot of heaven on earth goes away. A huge disappointment in humanity. A feeling of emptiness and loss like that of missing a good ol’ friend only now, they’re gone forever.

“Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend,
Unnerves his strength, invites his end.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ~ "Woodnotes"

I Love America, the Past

A personal quest kind of blog

“At some point … we became a nation of whining, sniveling, complaining, suing, Prozac-gobbling, label-warning, non-spanking, airbag-surrounded, water-conserving, designated-driving, emailing geeks.” (Prioleau Alexander – “You Want Fries with That?”)

I come from a long line of very hard workers – as I am sure most of you are. They raised me believing that nothing is ever achieved without sweat, blood and tears. And most often than not, the government, your company, your rich brother, or just life in general, good ol’ Karma, will rob you of everything you’ve got. And that’s just normal. But no matter the hardships, you worry about yourself, and keep going.

I moved to America, leaving everything I had and knew behind, because I was also raised that in America, things are different. You work hard, and you get to keep most of it (except for the taxes, of course, but they have laws for that!). Injustices are punished and fairness is restored. People are respectful and own their actions.

I was raised to believe that in America all things are possible. I grew up reading the stories of the making of this beautiful nation, stories of freeing of the Old South and of shaping up of the great, big Wild West where people started with nothing but their own bodies and own two hands, and slowly and assiduously, made a life. For them, and their followers.

Back in the day where there was no law, no boundaries, and nothing but willing, hardworking people with a vision. And thus America was built. No complaining about hardships, just a big, wonderful dream of making it. They crossed an ocean, they fought persecution and extreme poverty, diseases unknown, and they made a country. They had will. They had hope. They had drive. They had grit! And amazing things did happen – the civilization we enjoy today is proof of that. That’s the America of my childhood stories. The sense of adventure, and freedom to achieve something lured me in like an iris does a bee!

As they often tell you, once you get closer, the shine seems to fade, however. I sometimes wonder, in my day to day life, when and where did that shine disappear? I am wondering are we truly the followers of such wonderfully driven and resolute people that built this unequal under the sun nation, of freedom, equality and hope?! Where are today’s whiners, and complainers, and weaklings truly coming from? When did apathy replace fortitude?!

Our world today is full of people who are mostly ungrateful, self-entitled, self-absorbed, over-consuming, space-hogging, comfort seekers, who need buttons and “apps” for everything to avoid using a minimum effort for anything. The pride is still there, however, but its roots are gone!

I am still to find the true passion that built this country in our every day life, especially in days like today where this passion is needed. It’s so sad, some days, to watch this! A myth busted is always disappointing, but even more so when that myth was the Bible of your own life. We all complain about too much work and not enough pay, and we too often forget about people who just a couple of hundred of years ago were still tracking across an empty and beautiful land full of nothing but dust, starting farms and building roads with nothing but their own backs! Too much work?!

I hear people every day that that “have to have” comfort, and recognition, and respect, but they show little effort to earn those. The sense of expectation is far bigger than the sense of deserving.

We criticize that the waitress is rude, the internet is too slow, the burger is too dry, the a/c is not cold enough, there is no customer service anymore – and these are all unacceptable, unless – unless – unless – we are in the business of providing these! If we are supposed to provide these for others, all of a sudden, things change. Then we want amendments! “Well, yeah, I talked bad to my customer but my five year old is sick with the flu so I didn’t get much sleep last night” or “I showed up for work every day last month – why didn’t I get a bonus?!”. Or “Oh, yeah, Sir, your internet is slow, but you can’t stream a movie, have 100 tabs open, upload pictures and a movie all at the same time. Sorry.” But this shall not apply to us.

We find such easy excuses when we forget how people before us could not afford them, as their lives depended on their own drive and resolution. They were meant to follow those or perish! How and when did we forget that we actually have to participate in order to reap rewards? That we have to care? That life is hard, but then the pay is grand? We have technology, but the rules of common sense should still apply, don’t you think?!

I think when Bush II got elected, and even worse, re-elected, mediocrity was accepted as the new law of the land. All of a sudden, “life was not that bad for a C grade student” and we could not leave anyone behind! Striving for excellence and trying harder, staples that built America, were never to return as part of the equation of making an American. Excuses flourished. “Good try” replaced “good job” at every level of society. And “good try” was good enough.

There is no accountability anymore. We sue the city because they don’t build fences around rivers, so our kids won’t drown. We come on the radio and declare: “Well, if society wants me to be skinny, they need to provide me with the tools to know what I am eating (about putting calories and fat content on menus nationwide) so I can be skinny”. Really? Seriously? You should have called us first, before your first bite – we would have clued you in! But would you have listened? There are always choices – and today, it’s hip to make the wrong ones and then find a scapegoat to sue.

The decay you see in this society is visible, to me at any level. Our teens might not know who Dostoyevsky, or Cezanne were. Or even Fitzgerald or Frost. But virtually every one of them misses life going by because their heads are buried in a smart phone with a thousand apps doing absolutely nothing, at all times. If I thought finding humor in Jackass was bad, more recently, our society started finding humor in “the human centipede” – and that says enough!

Where I come from we say that one can become weary of “too much good”, and I think that’s what happened to our country. Except for the blue collar worker, or the under minimum wage worker at WalMart, we are all becoming weary of too much good – and the things that “matter” to today’s world are frightening and embarrassing.

Whatever happened to the dream I had of America? A land where everyone was free, happy, resourceful, intelligent, with endurance and drive and worked towards something bigger and better than just shining their navel?!

I talk with friends and family from other cultures and this new era of America is a laughing stock for everyone out there. We boast loud and clear that we don’t need to fix out health system, because we don’t want to lose access to our medicine which is the “best in the world”, and yet I was given the wrong treatment for a sinus infection! And the misdiagnoses, inflated prices, poor paperwork, unresponsiveness, lack of care abound in every family I know!

We have no interest in culture, no manners, our political system is just as bad as everyone else’s out there, and yet we not only don’t think we should be the ones to fix it, but we emptily demand the respect of everyone else in the world, forgetting that respect is earned and there is no kind of real, worthwhile leadership other than that by example. We still clench our fist across our heart and declare ourselves patriots on July 4th. Our pride grows inversely proportional to our resourcefulness and involvement.

I fear some days that all this Americanism is contagious and I am becoming more American than I ever wanted to be. But the choice is to be a cynic – and I am not sure what’s worse.

I still love America, and I am still happy and grateful that I am one of her citizens. But, as a true Romanian passeiste, I love the past more. I also love it because it still allows the freedom for every one of us to be whoever we are, regardless of what’s going on around us. For now. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a chance not to forget my own past.

I stepped off the box, but if I could make one more suggestion: grab a copy of the “Fries” book quoted above! It will open your eyes to a whole new world. The world you are living in today.

From "Family Town" to "Everything Town"

Interesting fact: Did you know that tiramisu is made with … lemons instead of coffee in some Utah County restaurants?! For those who don’t get it, just google “coffee forbidden Utah” and find out.

We are so lucky to be so close to Park City for so many reasons. Not just because it’s a picturesque place to visit, with breathtaking mountains and beautiful architecture, but it’s our breath of fresh air. Literally and figuratively!

We go to Park City for The World Market. We go there for the Whole Foods store. We go there for The Eating Establishment restaurant and Squatters' IPA. We go there for good bagels. We go every summer for Park Silly Sunday Market, and every fall for The Parade of (vacation) Homes.

But most of all, we go there to escape into a sense of normalcy! It’s our chance to remind ourselves we still live in the US of A, and not on a patriarchal estate, somewhere, on a remote island where God locked us up and threw the key away.

In our very guarded, very securely, ever so carefully and morally tightly packed ‘Family County’ we feel like suffocating some days. After tripping on strollers everywhere in our town, after dining next to “The Smiths, family of 23”, of which adults are always outnumbered, every Friday night, no matter what restaurant we pick, after weeks and months of frowns when we order wine in a restaurant and a parade of several waiters in one order because the 16 year old, nor the 18 year old, nor their parent waiters know how to make a ‘non-virgin’ margarita, it’s nice to go “out” (literally) and … have choices!

Funny how our lives change. As the old cliché goes, you don’t know what we’ve got till it’s gone. Ordering a drink, being in an adult place, like a bar, and feeling that comfortable unwinding kind of feeling at the end of a long week, where you congregate with other adults and hash out the stress gone by, used to be commonplace a year and a half ago, in another state. Not anymore. Now, it’s a treat that you have to travel to the next city to get.

This past weekend, we got away for an impromptu couple of hours to the said Mecca of Park City. We ate at Bandit’s Barbecue and I re-discovered another long time culinary love of mine that I don’t order but maybe once a year: fried pickles, baby! And here I was thinking that I left them buried into the Ol’ South! Not so.

We also took the chairlift across Main Street and beyond – more than an hour of peace, quiet, fresh pine and sap fragrances, and lots of fresh air. That was such a recharging experience, too! There is something overwhelmingly serene and therapeutic about being forced to just sit, with nowhere to go, and just be. Just breathe and watch and listen. And wonder. That’s what a chairlift does.

But as beautiful as the nature was, and always is, our most favorite part was just to connect with “other” kinds of people. Less judgy, perhaps, and more accepting (or completely ignorant!) of their neighbors. We enjoyed seeing the big, wide, crazy world out there, first hand, past the borders of our subdivision and small city life: colorful people and street décor, no reservations young artists of all sorts of media, we loved enjoying the exotic smells of street foods, like Thai and Peruvian, loved even seeing the oddities, like super fancy mobile restrooms (not the kind you think!), funky art like necklaces made of bent spoons and forks, and spoiled rotten puppies, as well as people eating out on the sidewalks on small patios and decks, taking in the mountain dim sun!

Most importantly, we loved just feeling like ourselves again. With freedom to talk however we want, and order without any nervousness that they might be out of … adult beverages on a weekend, freedom to even shop, on a Sunday …Freedom to move about without tripping on 2 year olds. We forgot there for a minute we’re in the same state. We forgot we’re not on vacation yet. And the ever so joyful and acute feeling of letting go and enjoying the moment was one last plus for which Park City will always be our get-out-and-breathe little getaway! Till next time, world …we’re back on the estate. *Sigh*

For pictures from this midday adventure, click the “last chair”.

Coming back from the mountain on the chairlift - last chair floating by us ...

The Parade

So, my husband and I are home improvement junkies. We watch everything there is to watch on HGTV and DYI Network, and we parade all of the homes there are to parade in a season, three counties over. We like to learn about what’s possible in a home, just because we’re both, at core, really, home bodies. We need to make it as comfortable as we can, right?! And what are you gonna do when you make less money than your heart desires to spend? You dream, and you snoop on others who can afford it, right?!

And you can surely dream while visiting these places – for as many great ideas as we have gotten from these tours, we have gotten that many crazy ones, too. And the people watching is priceless!

Great ideas we have seen. And I am not talking about the really “crazy”, extravagant ones, like golf courses in the basement, and skate boarding half pipes, and mini movie theaters with 20 recliners on premises. Or basement bars with 4-5 suspended television sets above your head. Or indoor pools and bedroom balconies complete with hot tubs and water slides into the waterfall pool down below … I am also talking about the practical, new ideas that we can actually use in real life, for better insulation, cost saving siding and roofing, creative and economical ways to build heating and cooling systems, using solar and wind energy. The list goes on and on. These latter features are really the lessons we learn, constructively, for when we might be ready, one day, to build our own humble abode. One day!

With every house we see, we become more and more fascinated by what’s deemed “comfortable” and “needed” in today’s world. And what is a home anymore? Is it just a place to shelter you from the seasons and offer you comfort at the end of a long week? Or very much a showcase of how much money you have and how wild your architect and interior designer get? Do these people really need all the 10 bedrooms and 12 baths? Really? I know Utah people have large families, but seriously? Most of these mansions have so many “toys” they would never be fit for kids anyway. A horse barn and a waterfall? And a vintage kitchen as if peeled from a French magazine?! Sometimes I wonder how they even have time to cover by foot all the square footage in their own home, in a whole year! I bet you they stash stuff in closets and forget about it, and end up with 10 of the same thing when they eventually move out.

View of the Salt Lake Valley from the living room of one of the homes on Capitol Hill

The size of the homes is not the only thing that amazes me, though. The materials sometimes are unreal, as well as the facilities. You can see everything from elevators to complicated intercom and surround sound systems, from wrap around porches on the second floor to mini play rooms tucked under staircases for the really little ones.

Sinks, in various shapes and colors, made of anything from Murano to recycled glass, the quiet, infinity bathtubs, the efficient (and also quiet) toilets, the 2 toilet master baths, each with its own little room, the views of some of these homes … oh, my! And some homes are built just purely for fun – like the replica of the “Up” house – yes, a real life, very much in-livable copy of the house you saw in Pixar’s “Up” cartoon. Tell me that’s not done purely for experiment and show?!

The "Up" House - complete with the balloons and a hired (or volunteer?!) "actor". The living room has a mural of 'Paradise Falls' above the fireplace and many other movie details

They had on the radio today that the majority of people in Haiti don’t have “permanent homes:”, they live in tents, under tarps and cardboard roofs, in these temporary shelters, since last year’s earthquake, but in America, we can afford to spend a minimum of $100,000 for a “simple home” just for the sake of building.

But it’s fun to snoop. Except for the low points.

The visits are usually fun, except for some “snags” that cramp our picky styles. Like, the infamous “surgeon’s booties”. Man, whoever invented the system was not very bright! I mean – the use of these booties at the home shows: they ask you to slip them over your shoes, not to step on the rugs/ carpet/ hardwoods with your muddy shoes (no mud in the desert, mind you, but …). The worst part is not the wearing of them, but the fact that they reuse them over and over and over again for three weeks straight. And since it’s summer time, most everyone wears sandals – and the booties are wet and smelly from likewise feet! Some homes ask you to put the booties on over you bare feet – again, reusing them forever … and then … it gets really juicy! Some parades, however, forgo the booties, and those are our favorite, no matter what homes they have on display!

Then, it’s the mandatory “chat”. There is usually a representative from the builder’s business or the realtor who’s listing the house – and they must talk to you, about their business, and about your needs, and how the two might meet. And we're not talkers.

I must say, though, other than their normal "business curiosity" – they’re in this business to make money, right?! – they are not too bad. They don’t require you to sign anything, at any time. Some of them might offer a drawing for home décor or other home services, but they are not forcing anyone to sign up – which is pretty nice.

But then, there is the painter guy who makes all the art and murals in the house. And the stay-at-home mom jewelry maker, and the Blazer scooter salesman, and … the trust fund guy – all waiting for you to exit through the garage and while you’re helplessly and embarrassingly and disgustedly peeling off your booties, they jump on your back like a flock of hungry vultures – even with nothing but dirty looks at times - making you feel even smaller than wearing the booties does and answer their lame questions about when was the last time you thought of a will or a trust fund?! I guess they make money at this – but, again: seriously?! Is that a place to “hit people up” for stuff like that?! Credit card offers are next, I am sure!

As for the other visitors, they are usually polite and courteous. Except for the high maintenance wife who insists on yelling out how cheap everything looks compared to her own house, while she snaps shots with her Iphone and sends them over to her rich husband, on business in Shanghai, I am sure. Or except for the parents who think the open house is a new playground that just opened for their 5 kids, and who are letting them behave likewise … But then … they never offer lessons in behaving in public at these joints, so what are you going to do?! All are welcome, and as we know: “all” is a pretty wide range.

Overall, it’s a fun experience. Educational, in many ways, enlightening in more of others, and never boring – by any stretch of the imagination. If you think it’s boring, just ask my husband for the cure: open a cupboard or a closet, and you’ll find a reason for a chuckle. Almost always!

We were so shocked that someone had the guts to display this at the entrance. We had to emigrate to Salt Lake County for this, but ... it was a treat!

Forever

He would have been 40 today. In a strange, prophetic way, he always knew he won’t make it, though. And that, I think, makes it even sadder.

For over three years now, I have been thinking about him every day. And praying, as promised, for his strength, wherever he may be. I hope he has that … What we have here, after 3 years, is still less light, less spirit, a black cloud when we watch The Phillies win, or the Cavaliers lose, or …

I have thought of writing about today all day long, and I am still at a loss for words. A sense of deeper than deep unfairness that he didn't live to see today chokes me up! And how could it not?!

He is still very much alive, and very much, painfully gone, every day … It never gets easier. What they say about time healing wounds doesn’t work when someone slashes your throat to its core with pain, unfairness, helplessness …

The lessons he taught me in strength, friendship, forgiveness, courage allow me to move on, somewhat – but his loss is still crippling. Taking our loved ones for granted is not excusable anymore …

It’s hard to find the right words, because for a person like he was there will never be words big enough. The void left, too deep of a crater to fill … even with sentences …

The only things I could say have been said before – some of them in this song that one of his best friends sent me after the funeral. This song, and its lyrics “carried me through” the past years. Thank you, R.D. – you, as always, came through!

Rest in peace, my dear friend, and I hope you make another world out there brighter and happier just like you did ours …

All of my dreams
Seem to fall by the side
Like a discarded thought
Or the day's fading light
But I know that if I could just
See you tonight
Forever!

At times we may fall,
Like we all tend to do
But I'll reach out and find
That I've run into you
your strength is the power
That carried me through
Forever!

Your kindness for weakness
I never mistook
I worried you often,
Yet you understood
That life is so fleeting,
These troubles won't last
Forever!

Inspired me truly
You did from the start
To not be afraid
And to follow my heart
There's a piece of you with me
They can't tear apart
Forever!

In times we may fall
Like we all tend to do
Your strength is the power
That carried me through

Forever …

Forever I'll find you, forever we'll be
Forever your power and strength stays with me

(Dropkick Murphys – Forever)

It’s Summer

No school buses to dodge on the way to work … No school news on the radio … Waking up in blinding sunlight even before 6 AM … Sound of fresh, full green leaves in the wind at the window … Cats are perky. Finally.

We hunt for fresh, local tomatoes and home made cheeses and pepper jellies at the Farmers’ Market, every chance we get. We go to “music in the park”. Parade of homes just happened.

We bought a grill and used it. Meat tastes different cooked in the heat. You absorb it through your pores, too, not just your taste buds. The smell of fresh peppers on a flame – like no other.

We got sunburned. We talk about camping and fireworks. We plan the next ball game – soon. Snow is still on the peaks. Still. We plan for street festivals. We ride the motorcycle. Finally.

We eat fresh strawberries and blueberries out of the yard. We watch our roses bloom, again and again. We have a garden! We put down mulch. We mow. We water every night. We’re waiting, patiently, for our first tomato harvest. It’s all about tomatoes, all of a sudden.

Neighbor’s kids are running through sprinklers screaming like it’s their last day on earth. Parents are happy to see them out of the house, and don’t care. Dogs are lazy.

We get the gnawing feeling that all this is but a dream or a blink in time ...

The a/c running in overdrive. Gas bill goes down. We drive to the ice cream parlor in the middle of the week, just because … it’s hot.

“Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.” ~ Russel Baker

An Unplanned Weekend

The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaieties, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it.
(F. Scott Fitzgerald)

One thing I found funny about America back in my first days here, was that everyone would ask you at the office on a Friday “what are your plans for the weekend?”, and on Monday: “How was your weekend? What did you do?”. I guess this is a cultural thing – Americans don’t get a lot of time off, so they try to make it worth their while when they do get it – like during the weekend .

This is what the world around us looks like from the motorcycle ... And the dashboard, too ...

Although my husband and I try to do fun things during our time together, on most weekends, sometimes, we just plan nothing and let the days unfold as they may … and we end up doing a combination of (planned) chores, things that need to get done, and … surprises on the way …

This was such a weekend …

We walked into a public garden after sitting on a bench and eating sandwiches for Friday dinner … We went for a motorcycle ride to a local diner and for a ride in the countryside around us on Saturday. I also had the best sausage omelet and best hash browns I have had in a long while, too at this place! Yum!

Our breakfast destination: Model A Cafe, Mapleton, UT

We shopped for gifts for friends and shopped some for us, too, the same day, as well.
I gardened and he made wood things, too … just to keep our creative juices going, and our energy engaged.

Our very first strawberry, in our very new garden! It's working!!



Shopping for plants this weekend, we got this "money tree" at Lowes. Let the cash flow flood! We hope ...

We cooked and read and caught up with friends online on Sunday …
And that was about it …

Still experimenting with my "baby Canon", I had to take a close-up of my beautiful hibiscus plant - still amazed at the resolution!



We bought these bagged "sticks" in the spring, labeled "roses" at some garden store and put them in the ground. Now, we have this!

My favorite thing was probably the garden walk and the impromptu sandwich on Friday, and the persistent rain on Sunday, which made for a lazy morning … the motorcycle ride was, as always, awakening …

Another labor of love - my husband made this beautiful cherry wood bowl

Here’s to lazy, unplanned weekends! We re to plan life is so carefully, usually, that we can always use some productive (and refreshing) “chaos”, at least when we take some time off … Finally!

... and what's a lazy weekend without a lazy cat in your lap?! Here's Gypsy, in complete abandon ...

Chatting with God

This is a long overdue blog. But I wanted to stop for a minute, and before my memories get dusty, I wanted to record my very first trip to some beautiful, surreal places that not only this state that I live in but this planet has been blessed with.

Back in April, for our first anniversary, we took a weekend trip to the National Parks of Bryce and Zion, in Utah. We also saw a couple of smaller parks in the same area, Kodachrome and Coral Pink Sand Dunes. And of course we drove through just the mere beauty and wonder that lies in between.

We started the trip on a Thursday night, and we stopped for our first night in Bryce. The start was a bit rocky – as we got to our hotel, the hotel was pitch dark and there was a sign on the door that they are closed for the season. We made reservations online, and we had the confirmation, and we didn’t quite understand how this could happen. Luckily, a brand new Best Western was open across the street, and the stay was wonderful, after all. Some things work for the better, you know, even when they might seem that they start for the worse.

The next morning, Friday, we had breakfast at a local staple: Ruby’s Inn. This is a historic resort that bears the name of the old settling outside of Bryce Canyon Park. The name of the settling was changed to Bryce Canyon City not long ago. Breakfast was delicious, and the service was great, but what struck us was that at every table in the room you could hear a different language. From French to German to Japanese – we were for sure in Tourist Land!

Friday, we spent the whole day exploring Bryce Canyon. It’s a drive-in kind of a tour (or should I say “drive through”), so you just get in the car, and drive along the roadway, stopping every so often to an overview, to see the formations on the canyon. There are trails along the way, picnic sites and campgrounds, but we didn’t stop for any of those. We spent the whole day just driving, taking in the sights and stopping to shoot. Pictures, that is!

I had seen pictures of it before, but being there is another experience altogether! You are at the top of all these abysses, looking down on beautiful sculptures of red-yellow-and-white rock! Not two formations are alike and not two valleys resemble each other! The amazingly rich creativity of nature is just breathtaking! The hoodoos look much like sand castles, of piled up dirt, carefully dripped on top of each other in small piles till a huge pile formed, all cemented in millions of years of weather and waiting.

You see birds flying over the precipices, and nesting, snow (at that time) on the highest peaks, friendly deer crossing your path, and above everything, you hear nothing but silence! The wind was echoing in the rocky valley, and you heard nothing else. Maybe the occasional screaming bird, amazed at what’s underneath it, perhaps!

Bryce Canyon hoodoos - The Grottos - a formation that looked like ruins of a church

Not two overviews are alike! They all bear descriptive name, like “Sunset”, “Sunrise” Points, “Natural Bridge”, “Ponderosa Point”, “Black Bird”, “Rainbow Point”. They are all amazingly beautiful, and I am not even attempting to describe them, because no amount of words are enough to tell you about their serene exquisiteness. Pictures will have to do for now, until your next personal visit, so you can understand!

After the tour of the canyon was over, we headed towards the Kodachrome Basin State Park. This is a campground and a drive-in tour that bestows yet another new view of the red rocks of the Utah Desert. Again, we were amazed at the various rock shapes, sizes, and colors, as well as the vegetation that somehow finds a way to survive this disarmingly arid place!

Formations in the Kodachrome Basin

We had dinner that night at The Lodge – inside The Bryce Canyon Park. The place is almost like carved in the landscape around it – all rock and wood, with dimmed lights, wooden tables and large fireplaces. It was a cozy ending to a beautiful day.

At dinner, our restaurant manager asked us “are you doing Bryce first, and Zion second? Or are you coming from Zion?” – I guess it’s common to visit both parks in one trip, since they are less than two hours apart from each other. She also said “Well, Zion is the opposite of Bryce – at Bryce you’re at the top looking down. At Zion, you’re at the bottom, looking up”. I didn’t know it at the time, but that is in short the best description, in the fewest words, of the two parks.

The next morning, our anniversary morning, we could not believe the weather! A year before, we were in Greensboro, NC, on our wedding day, absolutely roasting, me, in sandals and a spaghetti strap dress. Now, a year later, we were in Utah, looking at snowy peaks and wearing winter jackets, scarves and socks and shoes! The temperature did rise during the day, and towards Zion, but it was brutally cold, for April 16, in Bryce!

On the way out of our hotel, we went to get ice, from the ice machine in the hallway. This German lady and her daughter came after us, to watch what we were doing. She asked “what do you do with the ice?”. We said we were making zipped bags of ice for the cooler, to keep drinks cold. She said, matter-of-fact-ly in a wondering tone: “You just get ice from this machine? Just ice?” We assured her that the machine did nothing else but give us ice. She nodded her head in disbelief: “It’s a big machine. Just for ice!!”. Remembering my European roots and how foreign of a luxury ice is back there, I can only imagine now how ridiculous we seem to people there for having this big a$ machine that does absolutely nothing else but produce … ice! Doesn’t feed anyone. Doesn’t heal anyone. Just eats up power (I am sure lots of it!) and makes … ice … Eye opening indeed!

En route to Zion National Park, we stopped at Coral Pink Sand Dunes. It’s a bit of a drive to find them, and you go through nothing but brush and desert. We stopped on the way just to capture some of the drive, and my husband stepped around this massive boulder in the middle of nowhere only to immediately warn me that we must get back at the car now, and we must leave. He was looking down at some creature eaten up by God knows what (bugs? Roaches? Coyotes? Rats? Snakes?) beyond recognition! Looking back now, I regret not taking pictures or looking at it myself, but at the time, his face, twisted with disgust, and the rising heat and the fact that there was not a soul around us, nothing but sky, sand, sage brush and silence, gave me enough panic to turn around and almost run!

Whenever I wonder in the desert, I am never bored! There is always something unexpected and wonderful about them!

Coral Pink Park is a completely different desert than any of the other ones I have seen in Utah! Whereas everywhere you see rocks, here, the rocks turned to powder as if a magic fairy shook her wand and turned everything to dust! Everything is soft and almost shapeless. Reminds you of the Sahara, except it’s pink not yellow. Or white. Lots of folks were camping around the dunes – which is very interesting to me. I usually look for a stream and for some shade when I camp. But these were folks riding ATV’s, so, they were looking for open dirt spaces! Sand dunes will offer that!

Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park

After passing a buffalo farm and seeing more deer, we finally made it to Zion. It was National Park Week that day, so the entrance was free! We never knew about this – things you, once again, learn when you move a bit away from home, you know?!

This is where my story might get dramatic, but I don’t apologize for this! This is why I have sat so long on this story – because I have not been able to find the words to describe Zion and its first impact on me! Nothing I have seen or heard of before about it could have prepared me for the next two days!

We did spend some time in the city of Zion, which is very quaint and like no other small town I have seen – part desert scene, part Native American, part Hispanic, part old Western charm, it’s a melting pot of everything Southwestern and more. Everything we had to eat was different, fresh and delicious, and some of the best Mexican food we have ever had! Just walking the main drag, admiring the beautiful mountains and the unusual vegetation was refreshing. But the highlight of Zion and of this trip was The Park, of course.

“Zion” has come to mean to a lot of people sort of a spiritual homeland, a home coming, a safe heaven. I am not sure why, maybe it’s just reading too much before I actually got there, but that’s exactly the feeling I felt when I entered it. It was awe-striking, it was heart stopping, and jaw dropping. Butterflies in the stomach and tears in your eye. Amazement that such beauty exists and that such perfection! You felt small, and protected and spellbound and like you don’t want to leave ever, because where else would you want to be?!

Buffalo farm, outside Zion National Park

You first come to the Checkerboard Mesa, a monolith of amazing proportions, that almost blocks the access in the park. And that’s just the illusion. In Zion you feel about a hundred times that you are at the end of the road, and you just come to yet another curve in the road. The road keeps winding, digging through the valley, digging through massive rocky mountains and pulling you through at the other end of it, in the small city of Zion.

I am not sure how to describe what I saw with my own eyes. I had this feeling when I first saw the “mountain of cotton”, Pamukkale, or the ancient city of Ephesus, in Turkey, several years ago, and also when I saw The London Bridge, The Tower of London, Quebec City, and when I climbed on top of the World Trade Center, or when I saw The Statue of Liberty for the first time. This sort of amazing feeling that I am out of my body, that this body that grew up in a small Romanian city and read about these amazing things in books and newspapers cannot possibly stand now in front of these almost fictional sites! It was a feeling of being out of touch, and yet enjoying the reality of it!

I didn’t say much, the whole time we were in the park! I just could not stop taking everything in and taking pictures! Just like the manager said: you were at the bottom looking up, and I have never seen mountains that high and so … naked! There is nothing but rock! Huge, amazing amounts of rock , one on top of each other. You can see the history of the planet in the hundreds of colors of layers in every wall that blocks your view … You are so close to them, and they are so huge you feel like they’re leaning on top of you and they’re going to tumble any minute now! But you know they’ve stood there for ages, and they won’t!

There are two tours in Zion – one that you drive yourself through, on the valley floor, and another one where you have to take the shuttle which drives towards and passed Zion Lodge and through the narrow canyons. The shuttle is taking people on the second loop to reduce pollution and road congestion from too many cars. We did the first tour on Saturday, and the shuttle ride with the stops on Sunday.

On both tours, you had the chance to hop out and either walk trails, or have a picnic. There is also a sizable campground inside the park, as well. On day two, when we rode the bus, we stopped at two places that will stay with me forever, although the whole park is imprinted in my memory!

The Temple of Sinawava is a last stopping point on the bus tour. There is a huge waterfall jumping into the Virgin River, right before you head on the trail towards The Narrows – a dangerous and most traveled trail. The wall of the waterfall reminds me of a church’s altar with the plunging organ in the background – I suspect hence the name. We saw wild turkeys, squirrels, lizards and yet more black birds here, as well, right off the trail.

The waterfall at Temple of Sinawava

Another beautiful spot is The Weeping Rock, another gorgeous waterfall – we were terribly lucky, we found out, that the water was pouring out of the rocks on this one! Utah being mostly a dry state, there is a very slim chance you get to see waterfalls going unless it’s right after winter – so, we were in luck! We climbed the trail up to The Rock, and we walked behind the water fall, almost getting soaked. But just being so close to rock, so sturdy, and water, so ephemeral was an amazing feeling.

"The Weeping Rock" - from the trail that leads behind the fall

All the stopping points and overviews have a religious resonance here, as you might expect, perhaps: “Altar of Sacrifice”, “The Sentinel”, “The Great White Throne”, “Angels Landing” (where you can see rock climbers hang on to a perfectly vertical 6000 ft drop and condors diving into the valley), “The East/ West Temple”, “Court of the Patriarchs”. And it all feels surreally divine.

It’s when I see such beauty in nature, such perfection, such detail and such ornate and minute arrangement of colors and sizes and shapes that I have no doubt that this world is not and can never be just an accident! It’s at a time like this that I feel small, insignificant, and yet blessed, that I am, too, part of the whole that was created along with this beauty, as a work of a greater power … And I just bow in meekness!

Laurence Sterne said: “I once asked a hermit in Italy how he could venture to live alone, in a single cottage, on the top of a mountain, a mile from any habitation? He replied that Providence was his next-door neighbor. “

Now, I understand!

One last look at Zion: The Zion Mount Carmel Tunnel - you see that very small "hole" in the massive wall? It is a window inside the tunnel. The tunnel runs the length of this mountain, but it could not, of course, fit in one shot! Please click on the picture for the whole album of this amazing trip.