Friday, November 18, 2022

Lindgren Family - Brian Carl Lindgren - Rocketman Video

This video came out in 2010. A group of employees asked Elton John's "people" if they could run this video with Elton's "Rocketman" song.

They were given the "go ahead". We had the video transferred to DVD.

This is the link to the Youtube video which I posted on the blog

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/7214676298681058579/3549200792667742759


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Saturday, October 29, 2022

Guy Family - Elizabeth Guy -Birth Record

This record was found on 29 October 2022, on FamilySearch.org. You may be able to pull it up at home. If it doesn't pull up at home you will need to go to the closest Family History Center . It may be shielded by contracts between the LDS church and the agency in England that it was "photographed" from. The film that it was take from is 007561512, Image 1822. 

The first image is a full page "photo" of the page that the Guy family was found on. The second image shows the family listing. I highlighted Elizabeth Guy's birth entry. [I need to go back to the Family History Center to transcribe it accurately.

The second image is an enlargement of the entry. the "at Olde Northam lists the children born in that area.







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Guy Family - John Guy - Marriage record

This marriage record was found on 29 October 2022 off of FamilySearch.org. I believe that you can only see this record if you are at a Family History Center. It is not available to non LDS  persons at home due to contract negotiations with the original holder of the records.

This record was found at FamilySearch.org. It rests in the film 007561513, Image 1074 of 1713. This marriage record reads as:

No. 171

John Guy of Matland Millock of this Parish Batcholor and Isabele Airey of Matland Millback of this Parish Spinster; were married in this Church by Banns-----this Nineteenth Day of December in the Year one thousand and seven hundred and fiftysix----By me Thomas [Sylvester]---[Vicar]

This Marriage was Solemnized between { John Guy
                                                    The mark of X Isabele Airoy
Presence of { Joseph Wray
                 Mark Burn

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Friday, October 28, 2022

Lindgren Family - Brian Carl Lindgren - Last Atlas launch - Santa Maria Times

This 1998 article was found in our collection of  family memorabilia. I believe we have in our possession the "red taged pull pin" for this launch. This article reads as:

Santa Maria TIMES

Crews scramble, send Atlas 

Failed pump doesn't stop last lift-off - by Janene Scully - Time Staff Writer

    VANDENBERG AFB - It's the launch that nearly wasn't.

    With a failed pump, a humongous rain cloud and a heating sensor warning light in the hours before lift-off, it's almost as if the last Atlas E rocket didn't want to leave Earth.

    But fast working crew members from Vandenberg Air Force Base's 2nd Space Launch Squadron and Lockheed Martin Corp. got the rocket and its military weather satellite off the ground at 6:05 a.m. - just 3 minutes before the launch window's scheduled closure.

    Capt. Tom Steele, 2nd SLS launch controller, said the pump on Space Launch Complex 3-West's umblical tower, which provides electricity and air conditioning for the rocket and payload, failed before the scheduled lift-off. "We worked a couple of hours getting that back on line," he said, "That was the first challenge..."

    It turned out to be one of several hurdles this morning for the launch crew whose members will represent Vandenberg in Guardian Challenge, an annual competition-where teams will vie in May for recognition as the best.

    Atlas E crew members scrambled to get a replacement part from the other Atlas facility under conversion at SLC-3, unsure how it might work out, according to Lt.

                     ____________________________

ATLAS: Crews scrambled, launch final Atlas E, a former ICBM

Continued from page A-1
Col. Jim Puhek, 2nd SLS commander. However, "luckily it fit," Puhek said.

    A heating sensor warning light problem was resolved before "weather got in," Steele said.

    Weather radar and an observation plane helped monitor the ominous cloud's proximity. A rocket climbing into orbit creates static electricity that can trigger lightning and destroy the spacecraft, officials noted.

    "I think it is important to say it was the only could over the sky... and it kept getting bigger and bigger." Puhek said, adding that the "wind was with us. If the wind had been blowing a little more to the north, it (the cloud) would have been right on top of us."
    
    With a sky that featured a glint of orange from the rising sun, the 34-year old rocket finally climbed into orbit, marking the last Atlas launch involving a former intercontinental ballistic missile converted to a space booster. The 94-foot-tall Atlas - a stage-and-a-half, lilquid fueled vehicle - also spent seven years in the Smithsonian Institution Air and Space Museum's inventory.

    The rocket's $80 million. Defense Meteorological Satellite Program spacecraft reached its orbit, according to officials. The satellite is the 13th DMSP spacecraft, which helps U.S. military troops around the world determine severe weather conditions. They have a scheduled lifespan of five years.

----------------------------------------------------
'This is the last of its kind for guidance' - 1st Lt. Rich Matty
----------------------------------------------------
    Today's lift-off also marked the 276th - and last - radio-controlled rocket launch at the base, officials noted. The old-fashioned launch system involves controllers who can correct steering and other functions from a ground station on South Base using equipment including gigantic computer systems that are three decades old.

    Newer rockets feature on-board inertial guidance systems, officials noted. "This is the last of its kind for guidance," said 1st Lt. Rich Matty, Atlas guidance officer. "It's a remarkable system."

    Matty, like many crew members, is younger than the rocket and its support equipment. But he said some team members have worked on the program for nearly four decades. "There's a lot of dedication up there," he said, noting one worker put off heart surgery until after the December Atlas launch and returned early for this launch. "It speaks worlds for the persons we have up at the guidance station."

    With the Atlas E's final launch, Lockheed Martin Corp. employees will be reassigned and some may retire, according to Julie Andrews, Lockheed Martin spokeswoman. She estimated involuntary layoffs would number less than 10.

---------------------------------------
As old era soared, base preparing for Atlas' future
By Janene Souly
Times Staff Writer

    VANDENBURG AFB - Even as the last Atlas E rocket headed toward history books, crews have been readying for a new era of Atlas launches at Vandenberg Air Force Base.

    "The Atlas launch team will be quiet for awhile, but we're not going away," said Tom Heter, launch operations manager with Lockheed Martin Corp, at Vandenberg.

    In August 1993, Air Force and then General Dynamics officials gathered to mark the end of the hulking Space Launch Complew-3 East, site of 28 Atlas launches between `961 and 1987.

    With a flip of the switch, the SLC=3 East's umbilical mast was lowered for a final time, before the structure was demolished. 

    It's quite an undertaking to replace the majority of the site facility first built in 19600.

    The mobile service tower, a tall white structure that signifies the launch complex, came
See NEW ERA, back page

NEW ERA: Preparations under way  transcription

[Continued from page A-1]

down. A new 220-foot high tower is under construction. A Remote Launch Control Center will replace the on-site blockhouse.

    Air Force officials peg the cost at about $215 million.

    The site will be ready for its maiden launch in 1886 although the first liftoff is scheduled in 1998. The rocket will carry an Earth Observation Satellite for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.
    
    With the final Atlas E launch, the priority now turns to getting the pad completed and employees trained on the newer rocket system, which will include the first Centaur upper stage launch from Vandenberg, according to officials.

    :There's a lot involved getting that pad activated and ready for launch," Lockheed Martin spokeswoman Julie Andrews said.

    Instead of former intercontinental ballistic missiles, the facility will launch the newest Atlas rockets, including the most powerful type-the Atlas 2AS, which has four strap-on solid rocket boosters.

    "When the new pad is ready at Vandenberg, we will mark yet another new beginning for Atlas," said Michael W. Wynne, vice president and general manager of Atlas manufacturer, now known as Lockheed Martin Astronautics Space Systems.

    "Who would have thought back in the '60s when the Atlas ICBM appeared to be heading for the scrap heap that we would still be launching Atlas as we near the turn of the century?"


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Saturday, October 1, 2022

Lindgren Family - Brian Carl Lindgren - SLC 3 memorabilia - Page 3 - Launch Souvenirs

This is one of the badges that I found in Brian's belongings.

The badge reads:
A/C 160
Lindgren, Brian
Gemini II
Lockheed Martin











This safe arm device reads:
AC-164 LAUNCHED 02 DEC 2003 AF 10:42  PAYLOAD: MLV-14 (LIBRA)

REMOVE BEFORE AMRING

THE LAST ATLAS IIAS FROM SLC-36, VAFB
SRB 1 IGNITION S/A KEY

This item reads:
AC-141
Erected 22 Sep     1997
Launches 18 Dec 1999

REMOVE BEFORE ARMING

SAFE/ARM DEVICE SPRING KEY

This is possibly fuselage debris from launch:
59E
60044
6-19-1982
I am thinking that this might be one of the first launches Brian took part in.




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Scherrer Family - Christian Sherrer - 2nd Land Sale

This is the 2nd land purchase by Christian Sherrer from George Jones in the month of January 1830. This purchase reads as:

George Jones, deed to Christian Sherrer. Record[d] 19 January 1830.

This Indenture; made the sixteenth of october in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and thirty nine, Between George Jones and Lydia his wife of the county of Butler in the State of Ohio, of the first part, and Christian Sherrer of the county of Preble and State aforesaid; of the second part Witnesses to,  that the said party of the first part, in consideration of the sum[s] of two hundred dollars, lawful money of Ohio to there in hand paid by the said party of the second part, the [receipt] whereof is hereby acknowledged [?], hath granted, bargained, sold conveyed and confirmed, and by these present do grant, bargain, sell, convey and confirm unto the said party of the second part, his heirs and assigned forever.

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Lindgren Family - Karen Lindgren Bradford: Travels in Asia (China, Tibet, Bhutan, Hong Kong and Korea, 2007)


I was appointed to the Jurupa Unified School District Board of Education in 2017, ran unopposed for re-election in 2018 and was "elected by acclaim." This is my board biography on the district web site:

Karen

Karen Bradford, M.A.,​ Member

Trustee Area 3 - karen_bradford@jusd.k12.ca.us

Karen Bradford is an award-winning writer, public-relations planner, and photographer whose work has ranged from an archaeology and paleontology museum to cyberspace forensics. She was the public​ relations manager for The Press-Enterprise and a campus communications officer at the University of California, Riverside. Her degrees are a bachelor of arts in photojournalism and a master of arts in public relations. 

Ms. Bradford was appointed to and chaired the Riverside County Commission for Women, officially advising the county's board of supervisors on matters of county women and their families; chaired several nonprofit boards; currently serves as a board director for Jurupa Mountains Discovery Center, and was honored on the Riverside County YWCA's centennial as a Woman of Achievement. She coordinated local and international grants and scholarships through her membership in Rotary International and contributed as a volunteer photojournalist on Rotary medical missions in India, Peru, and Venezuela. Karen has traveled extensively through the world, often alone, and has found kindness in every culture. 

Her goals for JUSD are that each student graduates, is encouraged to seek vocational or higher education, and is prepared for adulthood.​ 

From my blog, "Karen in Asia":

These entries are from my second of three trips to Tibet (2006, 2007 and 2009):


Beginning with a single step on the journey of many thousand miles

Tomorrow morning is when I to head to Beijing. This is much of the same trip as I did last year, including going to Mount Everest (29,035 feet); my dad was a geologist, so I grew up with him explaining why the world looks the way it does. He became sick when I was 12 and died when I was 16, so I could only hope that somewhere in the ether sphere, his spirit knew how much those early lessons meant to me as I looked at the folded and crumpled landscape of the Himalayas.

When we stopped at the road side, little children often came up to our Landcruiser, looking to sell ammonites they’d found. What a amazing thought: the fossilized remains of sea life, lifted up to 17,000 feet and more, found casually on the ground 50 million years later to be offered up in tiny, dusty hands.
I was reluctant to get up when the alarm went off: not because I'd only had a couple hours of sleep, but realizing that once I started moving, I'd be in motion or jostled for a very long time today ... all the way to Beijing.TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2007

Middle of the Night Musings: A Lesson on the First Amendment or Merely Technical Difficulties?

I can't access my blog while in Beijing. Not now, not for three days.

What you are reading is what I forwarded to Clint's email address to post for me. Why can I access Hotmail, MSN.com, PE.com and others, but not my blog? What is the difference? Unless it truly *is* technical difficulties, the difference is that I am in China and trying to post my personal opinion.

We voice our opinion so freely in the US! (While I'd rather go through life without "The O'Reilly Factor," the First Amendment is what gives both of us that freedom.) So what I am talking about is freedom of expression ... and I am in China.

Who remembers quirks in recent history to recall one of the factors in the reunification of Germany? The fax machine! By the use of commonly available and fairly unsupervised technology --- the phone lines --- many people could read the same message at virtually the same time and collectively organize to do something about their situations. Clint and I always say "The Internet is our friend," but obviously it is the friend only of people who are free to access it.

"But that's just my opinion, I could be wrong."
Admin said...

Blog entries on some parts of Microsoft's MSN site in China using words such as "freedom," "democracy" and "demonstration" are still being blocked.

Chinese bloggers already face strict controls and must register their online journal with Chinese authorities.

Both Yahoo and Microsoft said they are simply abiding by local laws as they police the Internet in Chine. The truth is, of course, that there's a buck or two to be made from the Chinese government. -Clint Bradford

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2007

"You Chinese!"

Yesterday started as a most beautiful morning: absolutely gorgeous autumn weather with stunningly blue skies that made me incredibly happy to be alive: I was back in Tibet, and I felt welcomed. I am happy here.

Our small group of nine walked around the Jokhang in the heart of Lhasa; it is the most sacred of Tibetan Buddhist temples. From the roof, we could see the Potala Palace some miles away, bathed in a shaft of light through the puffs of clouds as though to direct our attention there.

I wanted to find the wonderful jewelry shop where I bought a number of things last year. Carole from Pennsylvania (my traveling companion from last year's tour), Joann and I finally found it and spent a fair amount of money there, but as we stepped out the door, a Tibetan woman street vendor tried to sell us cheap necklaces.

Joann made the mistake of asking how much, just for inquiry, which the woman took as an interest to buy: "150 yuan!" Joann kept walking after me, and I heard the woman calling out progressively lower prices with an equally rising voice. Joann kept saying no, even at 40 yuan. I had crossed the street by this time time, but heard the woman following us and finally yelling with complete contempt: "Fuckkkkk you! You bitch! You whore! " There was a gap in the epithets, and then she launched the most damning insult: "You Chinese!"

I could walk away from all the rest, but I could not let this comment be my lasting memory of Lhasa. Although I had had nothing to do with the incident, I walked back to the woman, put 20 yuan, about $3, in her hand, said "We are not Chinese" and went back in my original direction. She caught up to me and held out an imitation turquoise and coral bracelet. "Gift" she said, "gift from me. I'm sorry."

I have been thinking about this woman: It was about 6:20 in the evening when the incident happened. I'm sure she was tired from standing all day and trying to hustle tourists with cheap jewelry amongst the competition. We obviously were the last straw and she lost it: "You Chinese!"

I realize that I will be able to go home to my nice life, but she will continue to be a second-class citizen in her own country.

2 comments:

Admin said...

Wow...The ultimate insult for her was to label someone "Chinese." We have no idea how it is to live in an occupied country.

Karen B said...

I can't begin to tell you how sad it is to see. We have a political science professor on our tour who was extremely shocked but understanding of the comment (he has traveled extensively through China), and Jeff, our tour guide, said she could have received severe punishment if she had been heard by the wrong people.

All I can do is think of the Tibetans' hope (via His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama) that time will moderate the Chinese government's stance on Tibetan autonomy. Now THAT'S Buddhist tolerance!


SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2007

Moving closer to the roof of the world

I am in Shigatse now. The police regulate how much time can elapse between five check points on the road from Lhasa after a Chinese tour bus overturned and killed 16. So, our drivers know how much time there can be, so we pull over and wait so that we can arrive at the proper times and not get fined. The drive so slowly any way!! Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise as the view at the side of the road is much preferable to being in a city that is becoming more Sino-ized by the day. I can see tremendous change just in the year since I was here, and as I am a country girl at heart, I feel sad to see more ugly construction and mindless sprawl without charm.

During this morning's drive, we climbed to more than 17,000 feet to a pass that overlooks the exquisite Turquoise Lake: the clouds change the color of the water's surface as they move across the sky, causing incredible shades of blue. This is the place of my first "yak encounter" last year.

( I am not able to upload photos from the road here, so I've asked Clint to substitute some of my photos from last year. What Tibet 2007 would show as a marked difference from Tibet 2006 is the temperature: While last year there was snow at the top of the pass and I was bundled in five layers that I hardly removed for two weeks, this year's photo would show Kare in a short-sleeve silk knit top and a long skirt --- nary a glove nor insulating scarf in sight --- striking a jaunty pose that is not wind-whipped! We would call the weather Indian Summer, but who knows how that would translate into Tibetans.

I continue to be extremely healthy with no effects of acute altitude sickness, knock on wood painted with the auspicious symbols of Buddhism!

I Have Been to the Mountain

There are days when I say "Thank you God, for getting me this far and letting me see this." October 15 was one of those days, standing --- again! --- in front of the world's tallest mountain. How lucky, lucky, lucky I am. (I think I've said this before, but oh well, the lack of oxygen does have effects!)

I remember last year, staring up at the perfect and majestic rock and snow-clad glory of Mount Everest. The elevation there at base camp is 17,200 feet, and as I looked at it, I thought if we could add the full height of Mount Whitney (which I've climbed) at 14,495 feet, it STILL would not equal the height I was looking at: 29,035 feet.

So there I was again and grateful I had been there before because the mountain was nearly completed occluded by clouds, only intermittently revealing the summit for those who knew where to look. I felt sorry for the rest of the group who would not be able to see it as I had, a brilliantly blue sky behind it with snow blowing off the top as the peak interrupts the jet stream.

Some of our group did stay the night at the marginal Everest Hotel, but that spot is not a pleasant place for humans, and I chose to return the few miles to our hotel in Shegar. Even then, the temperature in the morning was 20 degrees Fahrenheit. My REI clip-on thermometer indicated 45 degrees at Everest, but mere temperature is not the issue there: it's the blasting wind that is! The farmer in our tour group figured a 40 MPH wind at Everest, so my wind-chill conversion chart brings the temperature to something like 25 degrees to exposed skin. (Yeah, it certainly felt like it. I had on my lined leather pants, silk long-johns top and bottom, plus layers of more wool, cashmere and silk. I cranked down the hood retainer on my North Face jacket (standing in front of the original North Face!) just to keep my head scarf and hair from blowing around!

But temperature really didn't matter to me, except that my smile might be frozen on my face. The intense cold merely inspired me to quickly tie my string of prayer flags to the ones that had been placed before me and unravel the ones I meant to take home with the memory that I had flown them at Everest.

P.S For you Google Earth fans, here are the coordinates of where I was:

N 28 degrees 8' 478"

E 86 degrees 51' 054"

Brian said...

Ok, ok, I know to whom you are speaking with the Google Earth comments! It is I, your stay-at-home (Wyoming) brother who is tremendously proud of your travels and appreciation of such historic cultures! I've just read the last two days blog and shall have to do more.

Looking at the snow on Mount Everest reminds me to say that we just got our first dusting last night of the winter which is to come. I continue to appreciate living in a location that has four seasons and understand more the comments of many who have observed the seasons and have likened them to human phases of life. It seems much more personal now.

On closing, I'll mention the NBC newscast that was just on and in which they were talking about the opening up of Tibet via the Lhasa Express, a rail line from China up to the Tibetan plateau. Is that anywhere near where you have been?

Karen B said...

Hi BC ~

To the rest of you readers, this is the man I call "My Brother the Rocket Scientist": he *is* my brother and he *is* a retired rocket scientist.

The Lhasa Express actually opened last year but is being heavily promoted for possible Olympic-goer patronage. One of my fellow travelers took it from Beijing, a two-day experience --- staff did not restock toilet paper after Day One, and it was a slow train. It is pressurized because of the high altitude and has classes of travel from four people in a "soft sleeper" compartment to upright seats that the Tibetans could afford. Two of his compartment companions were a married couple, engineer and physician, who were given the trip by the Chinese government as some sort of honeymoon reward.

Brian said...

After viewing Google Earth with my Geocaching Premium membership which shows cache locations I see that you were only about 1 mile away from the Roof of The World cache (GC9A9E, just in case you want to look it up). Placed in Oct 2002 it has had only ten successful finds and three DNF's.


THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2007

No! No laundry!


One thing you learn about traveling in foreign countries is that you just have to go with the flow, whatever the flow is.

Case in point: In one of our hotels on the way to Mount Everest, I saw a laundry slip in the room and thought great!, I can get my dusty clothes washed! I entered "1 pair white socks" and "1 long black skirt" that I'd been wearing (a discreet and wise choice for when nature calls on the Tibetan plain where there are NO trees to hide behind).

When I placed them on the counter at the front desk, the woman looked at me like I was offending her. "No!" she shouted with disgust, waving me off with her hand. "No laundry!"

"But there was a laundry slip in my room," I explained, trying to justify my behavior.

She just look at me again, perhaps thinking I was deaf as well as stupid: "No laundry!"

I slunk away, rolling my black skirt around my sockies so no one else would notice my grievous error.
From October 18, 2007

How Thoughts of 1904 Echo to Me Today


We now are in Gyantse, one of my favorite places in Tibet, and certainly more so since I started reading the history of this country. British Colonel Francis Younghusband (pictured above) was ordered to Tibet from India in 1904, tasked with securing the country as an Empire ally and trading partner to shut out Russian advances in "The Great Game" that had begun play a century before.

Younghusband reached Gyantse and asked surrender of the fort, a massive wall that sprawls across several ridges and can be seen from far away. The Tibetan general asked what would happen if he didn't surrender, to which Younghusband replied "Then we shall blow open the gates as we did (elsewhere)." Although British and Tibetan history diverge, it is said that the remaining Tibetan soldiers under siege threw themselves from the cliffs rather than be captured.

Younghusband got to Lhasa, the first known foreigner who made it past all the Tibetans who asked the uninvited foreigners to turn back. He took seven weeks to get acquainted, negotiate an agreement that cemented British trade in Tibet that shut out the Russians and rest before returning to India. The night before departure, he rode up into the hills above Lhasa for solitude. He later wrote that that hour alone "was worth the rest of (his) life."

Younghusband wrote that he found Lhasa to be dusty and dirty instead of the fabled and mystical Shangri-la. But obviously, Tibet was a very special place even one hundred years ago and continues to intrigue many of its visitors. With Carole, my traveling companion from last year's tour and this one, we continue to cry our way through various Buddhist monasteries, looking at the ancient relics and the overwhelming piety and sincere beliefs of the faithful.

When we visited the Gyantse monastery this morning with the marvelous blue-roofed Kumbun, I started to cry and told Carole I needed a hug. We continue to say how lucky, lucky, lucky we are; the spell of Tibet has not worn off.

"Gulliver's Travels" a la Tibet


I thought I was going to be trussed by Tibetan schoolboys today when I took a walk instead of staying with my group to visit the Sakya Monastery.

Still at about 13,000 feet elevation, I was suddenly overwhelmed by sleepiness and took a nap instead of inhaling more yak butter fumes from the lamps in the monastery.

I took a walk toward sunset and sat on a rock to watch the villagers threshing their barley harvest. A steady string of children passed me by, mostly chirping "Hello! How are you!," but some asking for money with the universal outstretched hand.

Then it happened that I nearly got mugged by four eight-year-old boys, realizing their strength in numbers despite being half my height. They circled to look at me, then noticed all the cool essentials I have attached to my purse: the twist pen with KAREN printed on it; several carabiners; my water bottle; and the flat LED flashlight; my REI compass/thermometer; the tiny bottle of hand sanitizer.

One clever munchkin snatched off the hair clip I always keep on the strap but I got it back. Another had time to untwist my pen to remove the cartridge, but I managed to get it back, too. I felt this was quickly getting out of hand, like sharks smelling blood in the water, like feral dogs hunting in packs, and I was the Gulliver who was going to be overwhelmed by pint-sized people.

I sprang up to make my escape, fortunately at the same time as an Anglo guy about 6'7" was near. He turned out to be a 20-something Swiss national named Blaise who had bicycled alone from Kirghizstan on his way to Lhasa. One little guy still tried to leap up us, like an ambitious Chihuahua, but I was safe. Thank you, Blaise.

The Disco Lounge Bathroom


What more could Heaven offer me? In Shigatse, I finally had plenty of hot water, a shower, soap and ... red and blue blinking lights in the fluorescent fixture over the sink mirror! (It made up for my "No! No Laundry!" experience ...)

Now I know another reason that Rotary International builds clean water sources: When I tried to wash my hair the day before in Shegar, there must have been chemicals in the water that bonded molecules in some ways I've never encountered.

My hair was so filled with dust from our Mount Everest expedition that I was even going to chance washing my hair in water so cold that it made me gasp in shock and my hands quickly ache. I figured that if I sufficiently contorted myself into a U-shape over the tub, only the smallest amount of my scalp would have to endure the cold and I wouldn't scream very loudly.

I was pleasantly surprised when warm water began to flow, but when I looked in the tub, I saw apparently much more than Tibetan topsoil. When trying to comb my hair the next morning, I knew something was wrong, horribly wrong. Fortunately, our tour group arrived at the hotel in Shigatse before I truly had "helmet hair." I had the serendipity of thinking that even John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever" never had a disco bathroom.

Kathmandu


I am safely at my next stop --- Kathmandu, Nepal --- and the challenges of a third-world country are evident: Someone cut the zip-tie on the outside pocket of my suitcase(a someone who did not want ladies black shoes). Nepal is a case of remaining vigilant. I have a TSA lock on the main compartment, so the rest of my things were untouched.

I was the first person of our now-small group out of immigration and went outside the airport, looking to meet our transfer who never showed. The taxi touts circling me like sharks: "Madam! Taxi? Where are you going?"

When Carole and Joann caught up to me, we decided we had better take a cab, and then I had a whole circle of drivers offering to take us. I negotiated in front of them, then asked to see the vehicles they were driving. One fellow assured me he could fit three American ladies and five suitcases in something the size of a Geo Metro. I went for the mini van, then saw five men rush to help us, then asking for "small gifts" for the favor. You know what that means: tips to anyone who even looked at my belongings, preferably in American dollars.

When we pulled out of the parking lot, the next stop was a supposed "attendant" at whom the driver stopped and asked for 20 rupees fee: 10 cents equivalent. I was sitting next to the driver and just stared at him until he drove on. Can you imagine trying to extort someone for 10 cents? It reminded me of getting shaken down in India when I went horseback riding, my guide telling me get off at a place short of the stable and then saying I hadn't paid for his services. (I had not yet learned to be suspicious and should have demanded that we ride back to the place we started, but it was a steep hill with cobblestones and I was just as happy to get off with my legs intact.)

It is festival time here in Nepal, so many of the shops are closed, but I intend to go to a meeting of the "Rotary Club of Himalaya Gurkhas" on Monday night! (Isn't that a great name? I have visions of "You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!") Stay tuned, and thanks for reading my blog.

2 comments:

Brian said...

Ah, yes. Gunga Din.

"So I'll meet 'im later on
In the place where 'e is gone—
Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to pore damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in Hell from Gunga Din!"

What a picture of the area and of the British Empire that story evokes and the wonder of being there to see it . . .

Wonderful!

Brian said...

Did you know?

Eduardo Ciannelli, who played the (seemingly) wizened Guru of the Kali cult in 1939's 'Gunga Din,' went on to play 132 more roles in films and on TV before his death in 1969 including one gig on 'I Love Lucy' in 1956.

Boy, I love IMDB!


The "Pointy End of the Spear" - where theory intersects life

I met a polio crawler yesterday.

It is October 21, and I am in Kathmandu, Nepal: not exactly a vacation --- my travel is too rough and basic to be called a vacation --- so perhaps you could call it business since I am a writer and this is a great place to observe life. It certainly *is* what Clint calls "enrichment," because yesterday I met a crawler.

Carole, my traveling companion, and I sat on the balcony of a second-floor restaurant, watching street life from our "observatory" as we ate, entertaining each other with a running commentary on the interaction between people: tourists, beggars, fruit vendors, street hustlers, sari-clad ladies carrying a child and tapping passersby on the arm with an empty baby's milk bottle.

Of course, we could not ignore this man, the crawler, as he appealed to various people. Carole and I had made a pact that we wouldn't give to most beggars, especially after watching a boy instruct younger boys in the art of efficient begging. We couldn't hear him, but we certainly understood his gestures: how to run up to adults, how to prayerfully fold the hands in the "namaste" greeting, how to look appealing. (We then saw them inhale from paper bags, recognizing the habit of children who sniff glue to get high.)

As we would have to walk past him, I asked Carole: "What about this guy?" He was different. Carole is an RN, and we had decided this was not an act: his withered and contracted legs were surely the result of polio, folded in front of him the way a butterfly would retract its wings to rest for a moment. He used his hands for support and advanced himself by pushing forward an incredibly calloused foot. His richly browned face was at the knee level of everyone else.

Carole and I talked about a world that stops caring when there are too many people in it. People become commodities to advance their governments, and instead this man was a burden.

I wondered how the man could use a toilet, thinking of the "eastern style" squat toilets where I carefully rolled up the cuffs of my jeans so they wouldn't touch the smelly, slippery floor. Could this man unfold his legs or maneuver his body to decently relieve himself?

When Carole and I finally went into the street, he saw us and beckoned. He was younger than I thought and frightfully dusty from living at dirt and pavement level, as Kathmandu is certainly not a tidy city. His clothes seems to be more of rags wrapped around his nut-brown body, but his eyes were a startling contrast: large whites in contrast to nearly black irises. I could not help thinking that he looked up at me like the fearful and tentative eyes of a guilty dog waiting for punishment.

I feel very strongly about our Rotary projects to relieve suffering in the world, like this. When the unfair and unequal distribution of wealth and services continue cycles of poverty, we must share our blessings that we are financially able to give, multiplying our individual donations into a mightier effect.
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Blogger Milty said...

As I read your posting I thought again as to why I am a Rotarian. I shredded a check that I was sending to a political candidate and rewrote it to the Rotary Foundation Polio Plus project.
It is never enough but it is something.
You see and write about the human condition and your writings do make a difference.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2007

LIVE ... from Thimpu ... it's Saturday Night!


For the geographically challenged, I'm in the capitol city of the Kingdom of Bhutan, which is the world's only capitol without a traffic signal. "The dancing policeman" directs traffic from his tiny bandbox in the intersection, but not after 5 p.m. in winter for fear of him getting too cold. (I am in the eastern Himalayas, sandwiched between China to the north and India on three sides.)

This is a compassionate country whose king prizes gross national happiness over gross national profit. I have found everything here to be to my liking (well, except the lack of an Internet cafe within my hotel or walking distance; in that respect, Kathmandu and Lhasa really have this place beat).

It has been a very long day that included our car's warning light going on because it was running entirely out of oil. I'll bet the oil pan was a casualty of having to drive through some severe road construction yesterday. Our guide flagged down a passing tour bus of kind Swiss people who offered two empty seats to Carole and me while our driver stayed with the car for help. We were ferried to a chilly little restaurant atop a pass until another tour company car arrived to help us.

By the way, the Indian government provides road construction and maintenance to Bhutan as a form of aid. I have seen WOMEN and men slinging sledge hammers to break granite boulders into smaller rocks, then other people pounding those with smaller hammers to form the roadway base. No eye protection, by the way. Think about this the next time you want to say you don't like your job.

The road workers are all Indian nationals, and I have seen women nursing their babies next to a cement mixer or small children sitting by their parents as they work. I cannot imagine how destitute these families must be that they leave their homes to do hard physical labor in a foreign and cold place for what cannot be much pay. This also is how child labor starts: when the toddler can fetch a hammer or carry a pail ... it is a cycle of poverty through a lack of education to do something better.

The Kingdom of Bhutan is a very different place, in addition to the Gross National Happiness factor. Tobacco sales and smoking are outlawed (although I have seen tour guides surreptiously sucking down their cigarettes), and so are my white sneakers and jeans in temples and other important buildings. "Appropriate dress" can be rented from one's hotel, but fortunately I packed a long black skirt and some black shoes (the ones that DIDN'T get stolen from my suitcase violation when arriving at Kathmandu).

Tour guides must be in their national dress, called a go for men, which looks like a tailored bathrobe that ends at the knees, with black or coordinated knee socks and black shoes; the robe's long white cuffs must be showing, as well as a white collar that indicates the wearer is subservient to the king. When entering a temple, guides must wear an additional sash that is tied just so around the body and shoulders.

Well hey, that might be enough of a lesson on Bhutan, probably quadrupling the amount of Bhutan facts you previously knew. If you know any more, please enter them in the comments!

By the way, I met a 98-year-old man today who wanted to tell Carole and me the story of the temple we were visiting and his memories of the place. He sang a blessing to us for our safe return home. I have a wonderful photo of him that I'll post when I get home.

Stay tuned, as next time I will tell you about the many countryside homes I saw today with the most colorful murals on their walls: huge male genitals, complete with very hairy testicles and equally huge sperm happily spurting out the tip: a legacy of the Divine Madman monk whose famous member was supposedly as long as he was tall.

No wonder this a happy country. (The previous king also had four wives, all sisters.) But I digress ...

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2007

Karen's a Grandmother!


After stumping her attending physicians for 23.5 hours yesterday, Hailey Lynn Cascarelli was born this morning at 6:10 PDT to Karen's son, Travis and our dear daughter-in-law, Traci. All are doing fine. Karen's been notified.

Personally, I thought Hailey was delaying her entrance to the world until the air quality of the wildfire-ravaged region cleared up a bit...

Ahhh...I can hear you all now saying to yourselves, "But Karen, you're too young to be a grandmother..."


SUNDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2007

A real E-ticket ride in Bhutan airspace


I closed my eyes for a moment and swore I heard the plane's wing tips brushing the pine trees. (If you're an "Airplane!" fan, you'd say "Well, I guess I picked the wrong week to give up aisle seats!")

When the plane is a commercial Airbus, that's not much room for error, but the Druk Air Royal Bhutan Airline pilots must pretend they're Star Wars Jedi knights by the way they wig-wagged the plane's wings to fit through the narrow and twisting canyon that was our flight path. It worked, but we didn't have much room left at the end of the runway. As pilots always say, however, any landing you walk away from is a good landing.

I haven't had time to tell you much about Bhutan, so let me backtrack a little ... and that really WAS an impressive way to enter the country.

The roads are nearly as harrowing as our flight in, and I know people who'd have been screaming the whole way. Remember, I am in the Himalayas, and they ain't short hills: They are towering mountains now sharply cut in a V by swift rivers, and that means steep drop-offs, the kind where you occasionally read about a bus plunging off the side with 50 locals inside, 30 locals clinging onto the top and two Americans. (Carole and I are traveling as a group of two with a guide and the driver, so at least I have some control because these guys want us alive for their tips at the end of our tour.)

Our guide is a 21-year-old Bhutanese who is like a mother hen. He insisted that warm-blooded Carole (from Pennsylvania) wear a jacket to go to the Internet place just now, and he hovers over us. I know he is trying to be responsible, and he likes being responsible, but we want to cuff his ear and inform him that we each have traveled the world several times over --- and alone --- without his kindly supervision.

By the way, here are some travel axioms I've lived:

* You know you've been gone a long time when the local language sounds familiar. During my last taxi ride in Nepal, I thought the radio announcer was speaking in Spanish and that I understood it.

*You know you're in a developing nation when diarrhea control is an acceptable --- and eagerly discussed --- dinner topic.

*You know you're in a developing nation when your air traffic control tower is a hut on stilts. (It was made of pine here in Bhutan; bamboo in Peru.)
*You know you're in a developing nation when your airport's name is spray-painted on the side of the ticket sales booth.

More later; my Internet time is over and our flock is going to be rounded up to return to the roost!

P.S. Tomorrow we are going to "The Tiger's Nest," the misty photo of an earlier entry.


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Blogger Milty said...

Oh! I enjoyed this "E-Ticket" posting.
I can visualize all the experiences that you and your friend Carol are experiencing And I thought a monkey running up and down the aisle on a Peru flight was exciting.
Keep writing, it gives the readers so much pleasure.

Blogger Brian said...

The airplane story reminds me of the time I was traveling to Cape Canaveral. We had left Los Angeles in the morning and about the time we were over the Arizona/New Mexico border a man on our flight told the stewardess that he thought he was having a heart attack.

It was quite a roller coaster ride coming down as the pilot was determined that the guy was not going to die (too much paperwork) on his plane. Probably 30 degrees of flaps and idle power! Still too high on approach for Albuquerque so he rolls into a 30-45 deg banked turn to lose additional altitude. I, having had some flight training, was not concerned about these maneuvers, but they sure got a rise out of the other passengers!

Well, we made it and so did he. Ambulance on the tarmac and off to ICU.

I know other folks use their space to compliment you sis on your adventures but then I told you that before you left so this is a story for you.

Greetings from the Kingdom of Bhutan!


Greetings from the Kingdom of Bhutan! Bhutan looks like Switzerland with Tibetan-style buildings, if you can imagine that. Seriously. There are pretty, clean cows grazing, horses in the fields and a quiet, clean environment. After the noise, traffic and let's-extort-the-foreigners environment of Kathmandu, Bhutan is quite a pleasant and quiet retreat. Shocking, really, in comparison.

I don't have much time to write my thoughts as our guide is standing behind me and the driver is waiting, so I will just give two more comments on Nepal:

1). For the last week, I have often gotten into taxis driven by young men I would not have trusted to carry my groceries to the car;

2). Last night the was the first time I thought I'd suffer internal injuries from merely riding in a car. Being a passenger in a car in Kathmandu is like being launched inside a pinball machine, only the paddles and flappers include the possibility to ricochet off of cows, pedi-cabs, trucks, motorcylces with whole families on them and even an elephant that I saw walking down Kantipathi Street yesterday. (He was outfitted in red, ridden by two men. I wasn't drinking.)

Sticker Shock in Hong Kong


Guess I should have written more blog entries when I was in Bhutan and charged only $1.50 an hour to use the Internet: The rate here at my hotel in Kowloon is $28 an hour! Sorry, you are not going to get more details about Bhutan until I find less tony digs for my Internet needs.

To make a long story short --- and affordable --- I am still very healthy and happy in Asia. It has been almost four weeks since I left home, however, and I do miss my husband, my family and my friends, not the least of which is meeting our new granddaughter.

On Saturday, I will be onward to South Korea to visit our Rotary district exchange partner for this year. Thanks for all the prayers and good wishes you continue to send.

This entry is from a trip to Tibet in 2007 that I ended with going to Korea and staying with Rotarians; I was arranging an exchange with this Rotary district and ours, so I used the opportunity --- since I had to change planes somewhere on my way home! --- to get some more time to sightsee in Asia without having to pay for hotels or tour guides ... what a cultural experience I walked into! 

This is from my blog, "Karen in Asia, November 5":  

I Should Have Been a Vegetarian

Remember what I just said about tempting the Fates with "How bad could it be?"

I found out tonight --- and it was really bad --- when my hostess pointed to the cooking meat and said "dog."

OH MY GOSH, that's right, how could I forget? They EAT DOGS in Korea! I saw two cats yesterday and mentally noted there were no dogs, whereas Carole and I saw dogs by the dozens in Bhutan. When I told my host mother that I did not want to eat dog and noted dismay on her face, I thought perhaps this was a cultural confrontation when I should "Buck up, little camper" and do my best not to barf.

Korean restaurants serve so many dishes --- there were 30 at merely lunch today --- that I looked around for something to eat at the same time and disguise whatever is the taste of dog. My host mother had already served me some meat --- "Filet of Fluffy" was the tragedy I imagined --- so I grabbed a slice of pickled vegetable to wrap around the tiniest piece of meat. Fortunately, all I tasted was veggie.

How could these otherwise very nice people so casually chew and swallow Man's Best Friend? Was I eating beagle, mutt or Akita? Barbarians. But had living through invasion by the Japanese, World War II and the Korean War brought such starvation on the country that they learned to eat protein wherever they found it?

We sat on the heated floor at low tables with recessed grills in the tops. It was bad luck or being the guest of honor that positioned me front and center for roasting Rottweiler. The Koreans casually poked at the meat, turning it over and over, and then I saw more raw meat arrive. One woman offered mustard sauce, pointed to the thinly sliced meat of an odd color and said "Delicious." Not on your life. I pictured Mindy, our Australian Shepherd, and declined.

Other women were piling the bones on their plates and pulling off meat with chopsticks or sucking it from the joints. Simply barbarians, I thought as I hoped I wouldn't be ill. I had eaten enough to show I was not rejecting their culture and then concentrated on veggies and soup.

I wondered about people who could eat a puppy that surely had looked with trusting brown eyes at its cook. I rationalized that I had eaten zebra when I was in college in Kenya, but at least zebras are wild and usually killed by lions or crocodiles rather than tiny grandmothers with butcher knives.

Fast forward to after-dinner grocery shopping with my host mother who wanted to know what I'd like to have for breakfast. ("Not poodle," I bitterly thought about saying.) As we walked past the meat department, I asked my host's 21-year-old daughter to point out sliced dog in the deli case so I could recognize it the next time it was served for dinner. Her eyes widened in utter horror.

"Not dohg!" She almost wailed. "Dohck! DOHCK!" The way I had heard duck pronounced with a Korean accent had made me think she was saying dog, and I had jumped to conclusions based on cultural stereotype.

I had just had a lesson about reserving judgment of a new situation before I condemned it. I had, however, remembered another lesson when traveling last year: Whatever is offered, accept. I had accepted trying something new, contrary to how awful I thought it was for an American to eat dog, and my fears proved unfounded. (Thank goodness we had gone shopping or I'd still be thinking they were barbarians!)

I wonder what cultural confusion I will encounter tomorrow? At least I know that my Korean hosts don't eat puppies any more.


And then there was November 4:

Am I Really 'Sposed to Eat What's Squirming on My Plate?


When the octopus tentacle got traction on my tongue, I probably should have been more concerned. When the next sucker stuck to a tooth, though, I knew I better do something fast: I counterattacked by biting it, chewing it around and popping some very spicy kim chee in my mouth to stun it into submission as I swallowed it.

I had just landed in Seoul and naturally was trying to show I was unfazed at eating dinner that was still alive and trying to escape from me. (I decided it's not "food" until it at least stays where it is.) After all, I have eaten so much weird stuff in Japan, and I can be brave: I've given birth twice without anesthesia and compared to that, how bad could it be? (Note: People who rationalize "How bad could it be?" are generally tempting the Fates to show them how bad it can be ...)

But back to the inchworm behavior on my plate: Obviously I won that round. I'm writing 24 hours later and have not had scary things erupt from my stomach (as in the horrible scene from Aliens), so there's another reason to be grateful for digestive juices.

I am, however, exhausted with a capital X. The accumulation of four and a half weeks of travel and rolling through five countries in the last four days --- I forgot to say we also were in Bangladesh, but that is another story --- has gotten to me.

In Hong Kong, I was terribly tired of Chinese people bumping me, shoving past me, getting in my space or trying to hustle us. Carole and I were targets walking down the sidewalk for "Madam! Rolex copy?" or "Madam! Prada purse?" I actually put my hand up to a guy's face to keep him away from me. I thought about decking another man who said "Madam! Tailor-made suit? Make you beautiful!," but I just kept walking. I wonder if Chinese people don't consider bumping as rude because they live in a crowded country, but I hate to be touched by strangers. A girl on the plane actually held my elbow to pull me aside so her mother could pass.

I am in Seoul now and ready for home and my husband taking care of me after five weeks of travel. I feel like I can't even remember being home.

This is the first time I have been able to get to an Internet. I am at the Grand Hotel (which ain't bad) in Onyang (I think), Korea. The Rotarians booked it for me, and tomorrow I am going to the home of a past district governor whose daughter served as my interpreter at the airport last night. It is closing time for the Internet, so for now, Th-th-th-that's all, folks!

From November 7:

Anticipating the Light at the End of the Runway


I just finished eating a Korean breakfast, which is a surprise to my stomach that does not like much for breakfast other than a cup of strongly brewed English breakfast tea with lots of milk in it and maybe a banana. I can handle kim chee at night but not first thing on an empty American tummy.

I awoke this morning thinking "I'm going HOME tomorrow!" Earlier this week, I despaired so much at being here that I thought about moving up my flight. Then I knew I was irrational because it'd mess up my Rotarian hosts' whole schedule that they have gone to great trouble and no minor expense to please me. I am not in control of my own schedule, and that is what is making me feel claustrophobic.

Really, though, I am happy to experience Korea up close through living with the Kang family; they have been MOST kind ... and fun. (Wait until I upload some photos: Mrs. Kang has a designer fridge with Swarovski crystals in the handles and doors and an LCD display of alternating photos above the water dispenser.)

I forgot to say I am living in a kindergarten! My Rotarian host is its owner/principal, and the home is the fourth floor of a large building. When I toured the school, I loved seeing the little ones in their uniforms of white shirts and dark pants or pleated skirts with a matching crested blazer, especially a five-year-old girl with carefully French-braided dark hair. I wanted to hug every one of these tiny children, picking them up, kissing them on the soft back of the neck that I call "the kissy spot" and tickling their tummies with blowing air to make noise. Some of the cutest babies in the world are Asian children.

But I want to get home to my own cute baby, our new granddaughter who is now two weeks old. One of our friends wrote that she may later ask me, "Nana, were you there when I was born?" (since Clint and I were there when Trevor was born). I'll have to truthfully reply "No, honey, I was in Bhutan."

I have found some unexpected cultural differences between men and women: even though I am the honored guest, the men took off walking by themselves the first night I arrived, leaving me to trail behind with the two young females. One man, however, has been paying particular attention and gave me a hug goodbye last night: I suspect he wanted to see what hugging American women with breasts feels like. I have decided from observation that if you ever see an Asian woman with breasts, they surely must be purchased rather than endowed; even Wonder Bread can't be that powerful to build strong bodies AND breasts.

Nearly all the people here are very slender, and all the women's dress sizes must begin with a negative sign. I have seen only two young Korean girls who are "big" here but would look entirely normal by American standards; there are more large young men. I don't understand because my other observation of Koreans is that they eat all the time and in very large portions: before I went to bed last night at 11:30, the whole family was eating garlicky ramen noodles. Either the population is on Pepcid or GERD does not exist here.

I will so SO HAPPY to return to cool weather! The temps are chilly here at night in the 60s, but the house is heated through the floor, and I dislike walking on a hot floor. I have a tiny REI thermometer (with compass) attached to my purse, and the air temp at floor level is 85 degrees. I leave the window open, but it does not compensate.

By the way, the pitfall of sleeping with an open window at a kindergarten is that I awake to some song that sounds like a combination of a Korean "It's a Small World" and Barney's "I Love You, You Love Me." I haven't started screaming yet, but now I envision how General Noriega felt when the CIA incessantly blasted his compound with Aerosmith or whatever was chosen to drive him crazy.

I will continue my blog with experiences I didn't have time to transmit while in Tibet, Kathmandu or Bangkok. I need to share the stories of the people, times and places that now have become part of my memories of the world. I have to tell you about what the light looks like glinting of the top of Everest or the genuine kindness of my Bhutanese driver who always wanted me to be comfortable.

See you soon ...


About Me

I am a freelance writer. I started typing at age 8 --- a story about a horse named Sandy --- and have kept typing, but mostly nonfiction. My undergrad degree is in photojournalism and my master's degree is in public relations. I have worked as public relations manager at a major regional newspaper and as campus communications officer in business and economics for the University of California. I belong to the Jurupa Rotary Club and am currently administering international matching grants and outbound Group Study Exchange Rotary District 5330. I am always very interested to meet other Rotarians on my travels. I've travelled to Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Iceland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Finland, Russia, Australia, New Zealand, Japan (three times), Korea, India, Tibet, Nepal, Thailand, China, Baja California, Peru and Mexico. On this trip (Tibet, October 2007), I am also going to Beijing, the Kingdom of Bhutan, Bangkok, Hong Kong and South Korea. I have a darling husband, two adult sons and two wonderful daughters-in-law. Our pets include koi, an Icelandic horse and a donkey named Edward R. Burro.