A Misconception

We just got back from spending Spring Break in Arizona.  Here is how many conversations went when we returned:

     "How was your trip?"
     "Wonderful!"
     "Have you been to Arizona before?"
     "Oh yes, this was our 11th time."
     "Eleven times?"  (confused pause)  "Does your family live there?"
     "No, we just love it there.  We hope to retire in Sedona."
     "I could never live in Arizona.  It is too hot for me."

Without a doubt, while there are hot desert areas in Arizona, it is also an extremely diverse state in terms of temperature and geography.  Allow me to clear up some misconceptions.

Having traveled to Arizona so many times, I have literally been to three of the four corners of the state and to many places in-between.  Undeniably there are hot desert sections in Arizona.  The southern parts of the state, from the Phoenix area south, have hot, dry desert environments.  It is during the summer months that they can be extreme and boast highs of 115.  But having been there in February and April, both Phoenix and Tucson not only have pleasant climates, but beautiful blooming cacti to enjoy as well.   Southern Arizona is home to the famous saguaro cactus.  These amazing creatures can grow to be 70 feet high and take up to 75 years to develop a side arm.  In addition, on the southern end of Arizona bordering Mexico sits Organ Pipe National Monument. This is the only place in our country where organ pipe cacti grow.  So while deserts are hot during the summer months, they can be pleasant and beautiful other times during the year.

This should give you a good indication of weather in April:  jeans and long sleeve shirt while hiking among the tall saguaro cacti in the Cave Creek area.

Once you travel about an hour north of Phoenix, you rise in elevation, leaving many cactus species and the extreme hot temperatures behind.  Entering my favorite Sedona region, you are blessed with the splendor of the red rock formations.  While Sedona may have high 90s during the summer, since the air is dry it can feel 10 degrees less.  Did you know it also snows in the winter in Sedona?  Any white covering that hits the ground however, is generally gone by noon because the daytime temperatures rise enough to melt the white away.  

Sedona sunset...UNTOUCHED by PhotoShop

When you go a little further north to Flagstaff, the elevation increases to 7,000 feet.   With Ponderosa Pines and four seasons, you can also enjoy skiing in the Flagstaff area during the winter months. 

This is in Flagstaff with a view of snow-capped Humphrey's Peak.  Does this look like a desert to you?

Heading north of Flagstaff on Route 89, you enter another one of my favorite parts of the state.  To the east you pass the Painted Desert, continue north to the Navajo and Hopi Reservations, and finally reach Monument Valley on the Utah border. The Painted Desert has a magic hold on me.  When I view it, I become totally mesmerized; I can sit there for exorbitant amounts of time inhaling its beauty.  I immediately feel stress melt from my core.  I can’t explain its hold on me, but it is a feeling I want to experience more of in my life.  I have been fortunate and have visited the Navajo and Hopi Reservations numerous times.  The land is beautiful and the ruins are amazing.  There are some areas you can view on your own, but for an in-depth look a the beauty, you travel with a native guide to see the back of Monument Valley’s spectacular formations, the depths and ruins in Canyon de Chelley, and the amazing slot canyons.  You can read more about my day spent in a Navajo/Hopi school by revisiting a previous blog.    

To the west on Route 89, you pass the Grand Canyon. Depending on whether you are at the top of the rim or bottom of the canyon by the Colorado River, the temperatures can vary quite a bit.  Summer highs can be more than 100 while lows in the winter can fall below zero.  The North Rim sits at 8,500 feet in elevation and the roads are generally open from mid-May to mid-October.  The roads to the South Rim, at 7,200 feet, are open year-round, weather permitting.  The Kaibib National Forest boasts pines, fir, spruce, aspen, and oak trees.

The Grand Canyon from the South Rim, looking at Bright Angel Trail on the bottom right.

OK, so maybe this one photo was not from our most recent trip...

Arizona is a rich, diverse state with so much to offer.  Hopefully when people mention Arizona to you in the future, you can inform them that it has more than just hot desert land.  There are so many future posts that can be written about the towns, wildlife, outdoor activities, culture, and history of Arizona.  Each topic is fascinating in its own way.  Much can be said about the diversity of other states like California and New York too, which are both states where I have lived.  But for now, Arizona is my area of fascination and hopefully will be my resting state.  Might you join us?

Along the 22 mile dirt road portion of The Apache Trail

Lots of blooming cacti

What a Walking Stick Revealed

Last year when our son came home from college for the summer, his car was filled to the brim with bags of clothes, musical equipment, and miscellaneous items.  Although this scene was nothing new, there was one new item he did unpack; a fairly large, nice walking stick.  When I asked him where he got it, he responded that a homeless man gave it to him to thank him for dinner.  I thought perhaps he bought him a meal at a nearby Subway or McDonalds, but that’s not how it went down.   

Boston has its share of homeless people, like any large city.  Many of the residents there take the same route to school or work each day, often passing the same homeless people.  But this one man who was in his late 40s was only seen four times by our son.  ‘Michael’ was handing out double sided typed printouts that he made with bulleted suggestions on ways society could reform education.  It cited facts and social reform ideas by others. He was trying to get people on the ‘educate our kids differently’ train.  Our son, who loves deep conversations, agreed with some of his ideas and thought he was a fairly intelligent man.  He did add though that ‘the word clean did not belong anywhere near him.’ 

Learning that Michael was a vegetarian, our son brought him to his nearby apartment and made dinner for him.  He sautéed some veggies and then added pasta which made up their meal.  This happened not once but four times, accounting for the four times they had contact.  After their last supper, our son gave Michael $10 bus fare so he could go back to the outskirts of town by the river that he called home.  Michael thanked him by giving him his walking stick. 

They never saw each other again.  That was over a year and a half ago. 

So, there were two ways I could have responded to this. 

1) Why the heck did you have to take him back to your apartment to give him dinner?  Couldn’t you have bought him a meal somewhere?  That was not smart bringing a stranger into your apartment.

2) Wow, that was really great that you conversed with this person who had something to say and brought him into your home to enjoy a home-cooked meal while sitting on your comfy couch.  

If you know me, or have grown to know me from reading my blog, you can probably guess how I responded.  I wish I could have been the mom who had the second reply, but at least I can say that I reared a son who responded in an altruistic manner.   To me, the walking stick is symbolic of him seeing the good in others.  

Not the actual walking stick, which currently resides in Boston.

A Box of Trouble

About four years ago, on a summer student trip to Europe, one of our students had an interesting encounter with the law in Spain.  Where to begin…

I suppose I can start with a visit to the sword factory in Toledo, outside Madrid.  When we entered the factory with our eight high school boys, it was like setting six year olds free in a candy store.  They didn’t know what to touch or play with first.  Amongst the oohs and aahs was play fighting in the aisles, trying on the armour, and admiring the goods.  Some of them had been waiting for this stop as the place where they would buy their souvenirs, as opposed to places where the girls shopped for clothing and jewelry. 

Eventually everyone was on line at the cash register.  Trying to save money on shipping their purchases home, they opted to combine their items and carry their new belongings with them in one long sealed cardboard box.  They knew full well that they would have to carry it with them for the rest of the day since the return to our hotel was not until well after dinner.  They rationalized that they would take turns and it would not be a problem.

Our next stop was at the Museo del Prado, the main Spanish national art museum in the center of Madrid.  Sadly for me, no photos were allowed inside.  A few of the more well known artists who had works there were Diego Velazquez, Francisco Goya, El Greco, Titian, Raphael, Botticelli, Caravaggio, and Rembrandt.  As anticipated, the weapons box had to be checked at the front of the museum.  This was not a problem at all.  The boys were actually relieved to be able to put it down for an hour or so.

As was generally the plan, we had set up a time and place to meet outside the museum.  It was a very hot afternoon, close to 100 degrees F, and those who exited the museum first could be found trying to find a sliver of shade to hide in while waiting for our departure to dinner.  After counting our group, an obsessive practice I have as a group leader, I knew which students we were waiting for.  I finally saw the last straggler exit the museum with his box and spring down the long flight of stone steps.  As he did so, two Spanish police officers quickly approached him.

The Prado entrance

The others in our group were a little anxious that their friend might need help.  Of course I would have gone to his aid if he needed me, but he was a senior in high school and had taken four years of Spanish, so I allowed him the opportunity to have this experience alone.  After lots of hand gestures, the box was opened and two swords and a replica of a pistol were pulled out.  After a little more gesturing and pointing, the officers seemed satisfied and left.

When our student came over to our shady retreat, the other teens thronged around him to hear the details.  He was laughing as he recounted trying to tell the officers in his broken Spanish … "sword factory… part of a student tour…  the receipt…gun is not real…box was checked…American student..."  He admitted he was a little nervous, but it was an experience I know he will never forget. 

After dinner, we passed up the bus ride to the hotel and opted for additional free time in Puerta del Sol, which is a busy area in the center of Madrid with much to do.  At the end of a very long and hot day, we finally found the metro and made our way back to our hotel.  Box and all, the boys were great about taking turns being its keeper. 

The next day when boarding the bus for Seville, we decided the best new home for the boxed weapons for the duration of the trip would be in the upper rack over the bus seats.  It seemed to be a better idea than bringing them into and out of hotel rooms…

I wish I could say that was the end of our weapon woes, but alas it was not.  When we checked in at the airport in Lisbon for our flight home, we had to go through all sorts of forms, questions, and labeling of the box.  Supposedly it was labeled and cleared all the way to JFK now, to assure that our stopover in London would not present any additional flags. 

But it was not.  Some worker in Lisbon forgot to label the box as previously checked out so the student was detained and questioned extensively.  This time we did go directly to his aid and tried to answer all the questions swiftly and satisfactorily so as not to miss our connecting flight.

So what advice do I give to travelers wishing to buy swords and weapons as souvenirs?  Pay the money and ship them home.  That is certainly something I will insist upon on in future trips to sword factories.

PS – I didn’t even mention the switchblades that some of the boys purchased…luckily they were tucked away in their checked baggage.

Yes, one of these nice boys was the one who dealt with the Spanish officers.  Which one do you think it was?