My one and only ghost story

In 1976 I moved to Springdale Arkansas with my girlfriend Kim. Her parents had purchased some property with a small house on it. The house was a ruin and had not been lived in for several years. Before that the renters had completely trashed it.



Kim and I were in our early twenties and were restless. We thought it would be a lark to drive to Arkansas, try our hand at fixing the house up, and then continue living there if we liked it. So we took a road trip East, Arkansas or bust, and three days later rolled into Springdale.



Did I mention the house was a ruin? It wasn't even liveable. It was infested with fleas so we spent the first night sleeping in her car while we fumigated the house. We worked hard on improving our little house, and slowly it was transformed from a dump into a 'cottage'.



I liked Arkansas and as soon as we got rid of the fleas and ripped out the cat pee carpet I liked the house too. Apparently Kim did not share my sentiments ; I often heard her quietly weeping late at night. My little dog Avery also was not fond of his new surroundings and he would often burst into loud barking at nothing in particular. I would try to shush him but his barking usually turned into low, suspicious growling until he wearied of himself.



The weeks passed and still Kim's faint weeping continued. What was wrong with her?



One night her soft crying and Avery's growling made me feel particularly sad so I left my room to make a cup of tea. A few minutes later Kim joined me in the kitchen. "If you dislike it here so much why don't you just leave?" she asked.



"Me? I like Springdale. You're the one crying every night. And by the way you're driving my dog crazy."


Kim gave me an odd look and whispered, "You've been crying, not me."


It turns out that for the past several weeks she had also heard the sad weeping and assumed it was I. I swore it came from her room and she swore it came from mine. If it wasn't either of us then who, or what, was it? Our neighbor had a huge ham radio setup, maybe it was just weird noise from his radios?



The next day we mentioned the weeping sounds to our neighbor, the wife of the ham radio guy, and asked her if his electronics ever made unusual noises at night. After we explained our experience to her she admitted that people said our house was haunted by a little girl. She didn't know anything beyond that, but she did know a woman from her church who had a 'gift' and who might be willing to visit us.



A few days later the neighbor brought her friend over to meet us. The 'gifted' woman walked through the house and stopped at the hot water closet of all places, located in the hallway between my room and Kim's. She began talking to the empty space, she told the air that Kim and I were kind people who didn't wish harm to anyone. She said there was no reason to be sad and lonely anymore because Kim and I lived there now and could be 'her' friends.



That was it. No praying, no exorcism, just a short one-sided conversation by a frumpy, plain, middle-aged woman. We donated some money to her church for her time and she left.



Kim and I didn't really believe in ghosts and we weren't convinced that our house ever really had one. Maybe the crying sounds were just the creakings of an old house. Maybe Avery was just a nervous little dog that had to get used to a new place. We never heard the faint weeping again and Avery stopped his sporadic growling. In our busy-ness of home improvement, enrolling in school, boys and partying we completely forgot about the quiet, sad crying that dominated our first few weeks in Springdale.



The next summer Kim and I left Arkansas to return home for a couple of months. We grudgingly agreed to let her brother, not a very nice guy, "house-sit" for us. Basically we were letting the load live rent-free until he could get his act together. He ended up staying only a week instead of the whole two months. When we got home he told Kim that he would have stayed longer except for the creepy little neighbor girl who kept peeking in the windows at night and scowling at him. He tried to catch her a couple of times but when he went outside he could never find her.

We wondered, was Kim's brother high, drunk and imagining things? Was it really a little girl from the neighborhood or was it our alleged otherworldly roommate, unhappy with her change in living arrangements, who was creeping out Kim's brother in order to get him to leave?

Sometimes there are questions that have no satisfactory answer.



Happy Halloween Everyone!!!

Mexican Dichos Part Dos

One of the many reasons I enjoy watching Spanish language telenovelas is that they are full of "dichos" i.e. proverbs. In April I posted a few of my favorites that I had written down thus far.

Now I am watching a new telenovela, Yo Amo a Juan Querendón, and the dialogue is practically ALL dichos and slang. Caray caray (my goodness!) but it's difficult to understand and translate. However here are some of the great dichos and phrases I have picked up so far:

Soy una tumba = I'm a tomb (My lips are sealed)

Toma chango tu banano = Monkey, take your banana (When the cat’s away the mouse will play) The dicho means something like if the fruit's available then the monkey's going to grab it.

Un clavo saca otro clavo = A new nail drives out the other (There are other fish in the sea)

Que desayunamos alacranes? = Did we breakfast with scorpions? (Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?)

Me importa un pepino = It means as much as a cucumber to me (I couldn't care less)

Sin dinero no baila el perro = Without money the dog doesn’t dance (Nothing happens without money)

Es una mosquita muerta = He's a dead little fly (Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth)

Estar en el ajo = To be in the garlic (To be in the know)

Agarré con las manos en la masa = Caught with one's hands in the tortilla dough (Caught with one's hands in the cookie jar)

Hacer la vista gorda = To make the fat eye (To turn a blind eye)

And my favorite:

Al quirófano y al matrimonio no hay que meterse sin anesthesia = You can enter neither the operating room nor matrimony without anesthesia.

Dichos aren't the only draw to this telenovela. There is also the hero, Juan Dominguez, played by Eduardo Santamarina:

Yes, he has a mullet and the fashion police should put him in jail, but dang he's cute!

(If you speak only English but enjoy watching telenovelas you can visit the blog site Caray, Caray and read English recaps of some of the most popular telenovelas.)

A mechanic wakes up

Last week I took my car in to get smog checked. The mechanic that was helping me looked half-asleep as he trudged around my car, hooking it up to his machine, just another car in his boring routine. For some reason he needed to turn my car on, I can't remember why now, and I gave him permission to do it.


I had been listening to the BBC World News on NPR, so when he turned the key the following blared over the radio:


"The women of Nachu, Kenya report that they are being tormented and sexually harassed by a band of monkeys.



In addition to stealing their crops, the monkeys also make sexually explicit gestures at the women.


'The monkeys grab their breasts, and gesture at us while pointing at their private parts," claims villager Lucy Njeri..."



Horrified and embarrassed I stared at the mechanic. Had he heard? He must have heard, it was blaringly loud! He slowly raised his head, he tried to keep a straight face, but as soon as our eyes met we both burst out laughing.



"It's NPR, it's educational..." I offered hopefully.

"Is that what they call it these days?" he responded.

He perked up considerably. He smiled. I reached over and turned the radio off.

"Stay away from the monkeys" he advised as I got into my car to leave.

The crew in Ensenada and the Tijuana border

The first thing to greet us as we sailed into Ensenada was a gigantic Mexican flag. It measures 50 x 28 meters and weighs about 550 pounds!

After a good night's sleep we knew the first order of business was to check ourselves through customs and register the boat in Mexico. At 9:00 a.m. Tom and I began the process at the Harbormaster's office...

Five torturous hours later we completed our business at the little bank set up in the custom's building. Prior to 2005 the bank was located down the street. Considering we had to the visit the bank between every step (five steps total) I think we got off easy with just five hours.

The custom's official was kind of a jerk but at least he had a small TV in his office and he was watching telenovelas, so I got to watch Destilando Amor at 10:00 a.m. and Juan Querendón at 11:00.

Hooray! It's 2:00 p.m. and we're legal!! The new boat is allowed to stay in Mexico for 10 years!!

After the torture of customs the crew headed off to the closest watering hole to celebrate with a few cold ones.

After our refreshment we walked around Ensenada enjoying the sights. The guys were impressed with the industrial strength speed bumps...

...and cherried out vehicles.

Judy and I preferred the wheelbarrows filled with candy, nuts and candied fruit.

We also liked the horses and buggies.

I guess in Ensenada you can advertise on the street signs:

We eventually made our way to one of Ensenada's famous fish taco restaurants. It's all about the condiments...

Yikes! This is just wrong. We did NOT eat here:

We spent the next morning fixing minor problems and putting the boat away until we can fly down in a month or so. This is why it's good to sail with kids, they're perfect for sending to the top of the mast!

Happy, pretty boat in her new home.

We hired the harbormaster's young brother-in-law to drive us to San Diego airport. Thankfully it was an uneventful trip up. Although I have flown out of Mexico several times this would be my first trip across the Tijuana/San Diego border.

You can walk across...

...or drive across, which is what we did.

The border in Tijuana is very interesting, not only is the side of the road lined with stalls, but individual vendors walk between the cars hawking everything from fresh fruit to gigantic crucifixes.

The following are some fantastic photos of the border that I lifted from a very interesting blog called Tijuana Tales by Kinsee Morlan. http://tijuanatales.wordpress.com/

Kinsee very generously allowed me to use some of her photographs because I, crammed in the back of an SUV with 7 other people plus luggage and sailing gear, could barely move much less take pictures. Hers are much better than mine would have been, Thanks Kinsee!

Last chance to buy a crucifix or oversized vase or two:

I love these guys:

Thankfully we had an uneventful trip over the border; our border guard looked very relieved when we hit the button of random searches and got green for "GO". She did NOT want to search our car.

Schumacher 52 - Sailing from San Francisco to Ensenada

In July I fell in love...with a big, red, beautiful sailboat. It was bigger than our dream cruising boat, newer than our dream cruising boat, more expensive than our dream cruising boat, but we couldn't resist and we bought her anyway. Currently she is named "California Girl" but we will change her name in the near future. Here is the promotional shot of CalGal:





As soon as we returned from South America (I'll post some shots of that most excellent trip later) we worked like crazy on the boat, got her ready for sailing offshore, and on Thursday August 30th at 8:00 p.m. headed out the Golden Gate for Ensenada Mexico with five sailor pals. It was a beautiful night, totally unlike most summer nights in San Francisco (meaning fog) and the full moon decided to accompany us on our journey.






The sky was clear most of the night but the marine layer filled in about 3:00 a.m. The first day was slightly overcast and cool, but not cold. Timo can drive in his sleep, and I think that's what he's doing while Judy enjoys her coffee.




Later on the wind filled in and blew the overcast away. We had this weather for the rest of our trip down the coast. It was a sailor's dream come true, steady winds, sun and flat seas.











I even made muffins in the morning!







One afternoon some dolphins decided to play in our bow wake. They swam along with us for about a half hour.




On Saturday we hoisted the spinnaker and really picked up speed. It was the first time that CalGal's carbon fiber spinnaker pole had ever been used! She drove like a dream downwind.

We have a hot and cold shower on the stern and Mike decided that outdoor showers are far superior to the indoor variety:




Saturday evening gifted us with a beautiful sunset.

On Sunday afternoon at 6:00 we approached Ensenada harbor and took this group shot to commemorate our fantastic trip down:





We pulled into Cruiseport Marina and guided CalGal into her new home.


Check out our neighbor, the Black Pearl from Pirates of the Caribbean! No kidding, this is the real thing!!





About two minutes after docking Judy brought out the blender and whipped up some Margaritas for us!







We enjoyed ourselves Sunday night because we knew the torture of Customs awaited us the next day.

Here is our route from San Francisco to Ensenada:


More on Ensenada later...

Not everybody likes Starbucks

I saw this slightly altered billboard on my say to San Francisco yesterday morning. I felt compelled to pull over and take a picture...

Those Wacky Finns #6

Did you know that Finland, home of the world's weirdest sporting events, also hosts The Annual Air Guitar World Championship contest? Yes, this contest is a big deal in the town of Oulu, Finland. Contestants come from all over the world to participate.

The Annual Air Guitar World Championship Contest was first held in 1996 as part of the Oulu Music Video Festival. Participants from all over the world competed in skills of playing air guitar. The ideology behind the event was that "wars would end and all the bad things would go away if everyone just played air guitar". The once so absurd idea has bloomed into an international media event that attracts a wide international league of contestants, audience and media representatives to Oulu, Finland.

In 2002 a couple of Americans heard about the contest. David “C-Diddy" Jung (whose costume includes a Hello Kitty backpack used as a breastplate) and Dan “Bjorn Turoque" Crane discovered that there had never been an entry from the U.S. to compete in this prestigious event. They set out to change this shameful fact and made a documentary film of their efforts.

The film, Air Guitar Nation was released a couple of months ago and is making the rounds, but not in a theatre near me. I'll have to keep my eyes open for the film, here's the trailer. C-Diddy, who competed in the contest, is a master of this performance art, check him out here.

Passport Problems - Help from our congressman and a guy named Chris

If you are having problems getting your passport processed contact your congressperson NOW! They want to help you.

My sister and her boyfriend applied for their passport renewals approximately twelve weeks ago. At that time they were assured that they would receive their new passports within the 10-week timeframe quoted on the National Passport Information Center. Two weeks ago they began to get nervous, especially when our friend Synthia told us it took her 13 weeks to receive her passport. Sister Sonja and Erik have plane tickets to France this coming Monday and they could feel the Acme anvil hanging over their heads.

Sis called the National Passport Agency in San Francisco FOUR times and was given bogus info each time. Finally in desperation they decided to go up there in person to have their passports processed. "You can't come up without an appointment." "Then we would like an appointment." "There aren't any appointments available now or in the foreseeable future." This news was in direct conflict with what she was told and what she read on their website.

Sis googled "passport problems help" and read a number of blogs discussing this issue. It seemed that the most effective way to expedite one's passport was to contact one's congressperson. On Wednesday sis contacted her congressman, Mike Honda, and spoke to a guy named Chris (in the Campbell district office I believe). Chris listened to her story and promised to do what he could to help out.

Today their passports were delivered via FedEx. She logged onto the National Passport website and the update indicated that their passports left yesterday, July 12th, and that they paid a premium for expedited delivery. Sis paid no premium so that means Mike Honda's office paid it.

She discovered that many congresspeople address this passport problem on the home pages of their websites.

Sis wants to thank Mike Honda and the guy named Chris who saved their trip to France by getting them their passports in 48 hours. She also wants to thank all those folks who blogged about this screwed up situation so that she could figure out how to solve her problem.

With so much fighting going on about people who want to get into the country, we didn't realize how hard it is to get out.

In Bad Taste

I heard the funniest interview today on NPR's Fresh Air. Dave Davies was interviewing a teacher/scientist named Massimo Marcone, whom Davies described as the Indiana Jones of the food world. Marcone says he is more like Mr. Magoo. Nevertheless he has spent the past few years traveling the globe, dodging disease and danger, to collect and taste food that people of different cultures consider to be delicacies.

In his Mr. Magoo voice he described some of the more interesting (i.e. disgusting) foods that he has come across:

Kopi luwak coffee beans scavenged from piles of poop dropped by civets. Marcone said this coffee, which sells for $600 a pound, is notorious for being cut with regular coffee and sold for a high price.

Marcone with a prized bird nest and coffee bean poop:

Argan oil from the kernel of a fruit eaten by goats. In Morocco, argan "nuts" are collected from excrement, roasted and pressed to extract a golden-red oil. Almost as bizarre: the fact that it all starts with goats climbing trees. One of my favorite gourmet websites sells it for $26.50 for 250 ml. They never mention in the description that it's shat from goats. Rather, they say it is collected by Moroccan women. Marcone claims that since deadly scorpions hide in the dung a number of collectors (women) die each year.

Escamoles, the eggs of red ants, are called Mexican caviar. This is a hugely popular delicacy and is served by the best restaurants when in season.

King Scorpions - tastes like crab not chicken.

Italy's Casu Frazigu takes the concept of smelly cheese to new heights (or depths). When it's cut, thousands of maggots crawl out. The mess is smeared on flatbread and washed down with red wine. On his way to taste some, Marcone could smell it as he approached the door and heard the clicking of maggots against the cheese container six metres away. He said it was quite good.

Casu Frazigu after being mellowed and tenderized by millions of tiny maggots:

He probably described more yucky food but these are the only ones I heard him discuss. He wrote a book about his adventures and findings called "In Bad Taste." He claims his book is a study of why foods become delicacies. Ultimately, it is the story behind the food, rather than the food itself, that people find irresistable.

Wow, that story really grossed me out. I think I'll go comfort myself with a bowl of dried and processed seed heads soaked in the bodily fluid of cows and topped by bee vomit.

July 4 2007 - We had a flag but no pole

What to do with a single-side-band antenna when the boat's not using it:




Put a flag on it! I hope everybody had a great Independence Day!!