After the Storm, Day x

Day whatever after the storm. We still have no cable tv. Internet is accessible only in the parking lot. The neighbours are getting restless!!! The lines for McDonalds rival the lines for gas! The last estimate I heard was 1hr+

Friends Roxy & Ron have agreed to take in Frank for a few days. That's one party not to be missed!

One by one neighbours are returning to their homes.

The red shouldered hawk has returned - is not amused at what s/he has found, and is letting its feelings be known to the world. The two squirrels who spend their days chasing each other around the oak tree have resumed chasing each other around the oak tree.

This Jim fella is truly amazing!

After the Storm

Hurricane Ian finally left us for greener pastures. We were fortunate and kept power throughout. However, we lost internet, cable, and cell phone reception and, as night fell, we were literally and figuratively in the dark as to the destruction being caused elsewhere.

We now have cell reception, but I'm typing this on my phone in the mosquito laden courtyard - the only place I can find internet!

At daybreak on Thursday, I set out on my bike to do a damage assessment - that and logistics are my typical roles when I deploy with Team Rubicon. I often feel guilty that I'm not doing the physical work of the sawyers or mucking out homes. But, we each have our own skill sets.

I rode to my friends home to check that she was ok, and determined that she obviously wasn't; front door unlocked and wide open, doors into lanai were wide open, and she .... doing her own damage assessment in the neighbourhood! Close friends can imagine the exchange when we caught up!

We rode our bikes the short distance to McDonalds, hoping, unsuccessfully, for internet. But, it provided my favourite photo from the storm; during the recent funeral for Queen Elizabeth, we Brits were ridiculed for queuing. The queue at the McDonalds drive through stretched about a quarter of a mile ... but McDonalds wasnt even open!

Donna and I continued our ride around the subdivision. Many downed trees - although few blocking the road. She lost her favourite tree and there was damage to another.

Some damage to carports and fences, but, mercifully, little apparent structural damage. The coming days will give a fuller story.

Much of the remainder of the day was spent in delicious, delightful, peace and solitude. There are benefits to losing internet and cell reception! I did discover that a cheap, primative, Cricket phone, belonging to one of the organizations with which I'm involved, was able to send and receive texts! A lifeline - and one I used to keep in touch with Frank, Linda (in NY) and Jim.

My neighbour, Joann, and I went for a short bike ride at sunset and encountered a squirrel in the middle of the road. Her tail had been badly damaged and she appeared to have a broken leg. She was trying valiantly to right herself, but not doing well. I scooped her up and put her in my bike basket - I'm not sure what she thought of the bike ride, but she seemed to sense we were trying to help.

I named her Pickles, and made her as comfortable as I could. She gathered the towel around herself and lay quietly as I stroked her head gently. A couple of hours later she let out a couple of whimpers and then she died. At leadt she wasn't alone on the road. 

Today (Fri, Sept 30th), my friend Roxy and her hubby came over to cook pizza. They have had a full house - all refusing to play strip poker with her - and are without power. Roxy is one of the delights in my life. She believes that almost anything can be solved with orange sherbert and vodka served in a pretty glass, with a spoon. She balances my seriousness.

After pizza we took a quick drive on the island. The devastation to our little theatre is heartbreaking. I'm not sure what will happen to Michael Biehl park, the park I adopted through the City's Adopt a Park program. The beautiful mural is painted on one side of the theatre. (Pic, below, was taken months before the storm).

At the beginning of Sept, I had a date with a fella named Jim. He seemed nice... kind, thoughtful, considerate, laid back, funny - and intelligent!  I could not have anticipated how wonderful he has been through this storm. Although he lives nearby, he has been witnessing the storm from afar, at a conference in Las Vegas! Concerned about his own house, but remaining in contact and checking in with (on?) me, and offering suggestions and solutions to issues that arose. I am very fortunate and hope he sticks around for a good long time! He's definitely a good'un.

Here's a link to photos from my damage assessment

https://photos.app.goo.gl/8YsFbKjzqn7dTxf6A

Catchin' & Hopin' - Ian Part 2

Hurricane Ian made landfall at 15:03 as a Cat 4. The 5th most powerful storm to hit the US. The weather Channel says you could fit hurricane Charley into the eye of Ian! It’s quite some storm!

It’s been an interesting afternoon. I’m on the ground floor of a 3-story building. Before the storm really got started, I watched parts of the roof sail past the window. There’s quite a debris field in front of my window now. A persistent banging lured me into the hallway where I discovered the hallway door opening and slamming shut with the whims of the wind. I did my best to secure it with bungee cords, but I don’t hold out much hope. At time of writing, some 3 hours later, it’s still clinging on! But there’s another door banging somewhere else on the upper floors of the building, and the occasional clatter of metal rolling around! Unfortunately, these are things I cannot take care of. But I think Bjork might appreciate the ‘orchestra.’

Power and internet remain intermittent, but, thankfully, mainly on.

My clients have been in contact with me throughout the day and, to my complete surprise, the State Floodplain Manager also checked in. Oh, he didn’t check in with you? There I was thinking this was a new state policy, personal outreach to every citizen! I used to work with Conn in the State Floodplain Management Office, when Steve Martin was the State Floodplain Manager. It was very kind, and thoughtful, for Conn to take time out of an exceptionally busy day to check on me. Between Conn and my clients, I feel much loved.

 I have made 2 ‘nests’ for when the storm becomes really bad. But so far, I have not needed to use them - although I think that time is coming close.

My laughter for the day came from correspondence with a Canadian co-worker of sorts: 

I ventured out in the hallway to help a neighbour about an hour ago and discovered a little over 2 inches of standing water in the hallway. I then returned to find my bathroom ceiling leaking. I texted Frank and he told me to catch the drips and hope the leak doesn’t become more widespread. So, here I am, catchin’ and hopin’  and, so far, staying safe and dry

Now I think it's time for some of that roast duck and jackfruit salsa.

I often share pics of the beautiful blue skies and beaches in Fl.

Click here for a 2 min video of the storm from my window

  

                      

Hurricane Ian - Part 1

 

The view from my lanai at 8am on Wednesday. I hope to have the same view - with blue skies - once the storm has gone.

I believe I'm as prepared for this storm as I can be. I have determined that I'm not as prepared as I could be for the behaviour of my neighbours during this storm. I am calm and relaxed, continuing to work while I still have power ... but the phone calls, texts, and visits have been incessant as they want to alleviate their nervousness. I'm an introvert (specifically, an INTJ). I'm a caring individual … but there are reasons I do logistics when I deploy with Team Rubicon on disaster ops; give me inanimate objects any day!

It could be worse; I could have had hurricane buddy plans cancelled by a positive Covid test, as happened to a friend. Yes, Covid is still around - and I wonder what that means for those in the shelters. 

I received a mid-morning call from Frank; I helped him pack on Monday so that he could evacuate to his sister’s home. He called me from the road ... on the way across the state to Fort Pierce! Like I don’t have enough to worry about!

Frank doesn't scare easily, but I know he is 'scarred,’ for want of a better word, by his experience with hurricane Andrew. Frank spent a good portion of his career as the Building Official in various municipalities across Florida. He was involved in inspections and cleanup after hurricane Andrew and helped rewrite the Florida building codes afterwards. He views hurricanes through a different lens than many of us. This storm is making him uncomfortable – but, he feels that I should be ok where I am, sheltering in place instead of the evacuation shelter. His reasoning is that the upper floors of my building may suffer wind damage, which may add to any water damage and flooding in my ground floor home. But, I also live close to a grocery store, and right off a main road. No matter what damage is sustained locally, he believes that my general location – although not my subdivision – will he high on the list of places to be restored asap. We shall see what the storm brings.

"This storm may be like Charley in landfall location, but with a size up to four times larger. Wednesday and Thursday will be a hard, long days." (Meteorologist Dan Henry, 5am, Sept 28).

It’s 10.45am and the winds are picking up. But, I still have power - unlike friends in Fort Myers. 

I love my job, but I miss being in the EOC (Emergency Operations Center) during a storm..

I think I can turn off the storm tracker app on my cellphone!

Still my favourite photo of the police 

at the City of Venice shelter

the morning of Hurricane Irma (Sept, 2017),

Additonal links:

Hurricane Ian’s Damages Are Forecast to Be Worse Than 1992’s Andrew

Ian is not Charley

Prepping for Hurricane Ian

The current track for Hurricane Ian does not look good for my City.

I feel good about my preparations. My car, my beloved Steed, my companion of 17 years, became an 'organ donor' last week I feel bereft of my partner in crime. I turned in my rental car this morning because it makes no sense to keep it; I won't be driving through the storm, and probably not for a couple of days after - depending on what this storm does.

I left my wellies (galoshes) in a client's car yesterday after a survey. To be honest, I feel a little vulnerable with no knee length waterproof boots to venture out in after the storm.

I do have an inflatable rubber dinghy!! Hopefully I will not need it.

A quick update on my hurricane prep:

My neighbours are driving me crazy ... (what evac zone are we in?)

 
I have moved all of the furniture indoors from the lanai.

My neighbours are driving me crazy (If we lose power, how long will it be out...?)

I have enough batteries and chocolate to last me until the end of the year :-)

My neighbours are driving me crazy ("we're expecting 10ft surge in Bird Bay!" (My response: No!, We're NOT!! Show me your sources))

The bathtub is filled with water. So is the fridge. So is the freezer. So is the large cooler.

My neighbours are driving me crazy ... yeah, you don't need to know!

I have cooked the meats from my freezer ... my first hurricane meals will be roast duck (courtesy of my friend Linda who emptied her fridge into mine when she moved to NY.), scallop ceviche (scallops courtesy of Frank earlier in the summer), and jackfruit salsa. If you're going to do a hurricane, you should do it in style :-)

My Scotch collection is looking pretty good right now!

And I have a large 'mournful sphinx' moth keep me company

Sew Challenging!

I am so proud of myself. You see, I have this dirty little secret. My friends know I can usually conquer any challenge thrown my way, although it may take me a while to strategize. There are some things I know I can't do, because I've tried them; roller skating, ice skating, roller blading (there's a theme here!).

I was traumatized in childhood by an event in sewing class with Mrs. Lysinksa (I know that's incorrectly spelled) and by having a mother who was an excellent seamstress. I have avoided sewing machines ever since!

In 2014, I decided to move beyond this ignorance, and purchased both a sailboat and a sewing machine in remembrance of my Nan (grandmother). The Sailboat saw constant use. The sewing machine grew lonely and accustomed to its dark cupboard.

Yes, this sewing machine has sat in its box for 8 years!!! Oh, it makes it into the living room periodically, is patted and told "nice sewing machine. Maybe we'll play tomorrow." Tomorrow finally arrived yesterday.

I have a beautiful Regency era ball gown. Sewn for me many years ago by a wonderful seamstress in Ohio. We never met. I emailed her my pattern number, the codes for my fabric choices, my measurements - kindly taken by one of my dance students, and a check... The gown still fits beautifully and is often admired. This picture is from 2012 (if you can, zoom in on the sleeves, the detail is amazing - and was not requested. Sadly, Nora is no longer in business. I think this was her first and last Regency ball gown.

With a Jane Austen Festival coming up, for which I am teaching 2 dance workshops and calling the ball, I felt in need of a new ball gown... one that could be acquired with minimal funds on a non-existent budget.

I have checked every thrift store in the county - more than once. Not one basic dressy A-line gown to be found anywhere. 

Hmm... I DO have a sewing machine...

I found an inexpensive  King-sized bed sheet at a thrift store, and another sheet with pretty lace... hmm possibilities. And there they sat in a bag, next to the sewing machine.

I finally called my friend and former neighbour, Linda. She and I think and work in similar fashions. She fair roared with laughter at my pathetic inability to conquer this 'fear' of my sewing machine. She is not used to me backing down from challenges, any challenges. She was kind enough to babysit me as I cut out and pinned pattern pieces. Neither she nor I are of the 'let me show you' variety of teacher. She sent me away with pattern pinned to material ... and waited patiently for text updates on the progress.

Work always gets in the way, when you want it to :-) and the fabric sat in the bag next to the sewing machine. Until yesterday!

Yesterday I cleared my schedule. After all, I leave for the festival in about an hour, and I teach the first workshop tomorrow. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I courageously cut into the fabric and then pulled the sewing machine out of the box ... I read the manual and cautiously threaded the bobbin and the needle. pulled a scrap piece of fabric and, for the first time in 45 years - I remember the moment like it was yesterday - I sewed using a sewing machine.

The thread kept breaking, causing me to quit, then say "oh, one more try" many many times. My friend Frank called to monitor progress and told me to check the tension. Which begged the question - and was answered with "oh I know my way around a sewing machine." It's amazing the things you find out about your friends.

at 2am this morning, I still hadn't finished the gown, but I can take the machine with me to the festival and finish it tonight. I have plenty of ribbon and fabric flowers to hide any, ahem, defects.

But... I CAN SEW!!!!!!

I can't guarantee that my sewing machine will become my newest best friendb ut sewing is no longer on my "can't do" list, and I'm sure there will be plenty of exploration in my future.

What was the traumatic incident that steered me away from sewing machines? Sewing class at school. I threaded the bobbin and machine, with Mrs. L at my side, I started the machine and, simultaneously, the fire alarm sounded, the needle broke and flew into Mrs. L's hair, and I was told "Out!" in no uncertain terms. That's a tough thing for a sensitive young lass to overcome - and it kept me away from sewing machines all this time.

I feel so (sew?) accomplished! Happy that, even if I don't finish this gown in time for the festival, I have conquered this wholly irrational fear.

Christmas Past

My childhood memories of Christmas center not so much on Christmas Day but on Boxing Day (Dec 26th).... I've read of an old Southern (USA) tradition of passing and re-passing friends and neighbours on a Sunday stroll around town; on Boxing Day we drove to the East End of London where we visited and re-visited with family, running into others on our visiting list but still having to visit them in their own homes later in the day! Laughter, music, lights, decorations, chatter, and presents at every stop. Every home filled to bursting with family and ‘family’ … and food! Food! Italians have nothing on Anglo-Indians when it comes to food… You will eat! You MUST eat! “I know you’ll have something a little later at [x’s] home, but you’re here now, try just a little of this, try, eat!” Talk about feeding the 5000! Aunty Mary’s biryani was the best - and I never knew it to run out! And how I miss my Nan’s cutlets!

In the course of the day we might run into cousins and ‘cousins’ and both aunties and uncles and ‘aunties and uncles’ three or more times! My father liked peace, quiet, and solitude – but prized family above all else. On the drive home, after the hectic day, he would say he felt he had “maggots inside his head,” but he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Neither would I.

We'd start at the Becks' which was bedlam - in the nicest way - with more people than a fire dept would consider safe, music piped throughout the house, and Chris and his band playing in the basement. Then the round of Ingram visits, picking up presents along the way .... My favourite Christmas present, every year, for many years - being allowed to pick out one of Uncle Denny's tie clips to keep as a hair clip. Then home, with detours to see the Oxford/Regent/Bond street lights.

I look back in gratitude (and occasionally awe) to those who populate those Boxing Day memories, like uncle Bobby, Uncle Lawrence, Aunty Gloria and, of course, my wonderful amazing Nan and my father. Both sadly missed.

My dad and I with Father Christmas in Trafalgar Square (possibly 1968 or 69).

Me & Mel Torme - A Thanksgiving memory

For this Thanksgiving, I thought I'd share a memory from a Thanksgiving many years, many chapters, ago. It's a memory that makes me smile; it reminds me of people to whom I was once close, and of the adventures I have had.

I don't remember the year. My life in Michigan was a constant fight with the world, a constant struggle, much of it is remembered by events that have to be linked together, rather than dates. It's a sad admission - especially for someone who remembers dates. But, it's nothing I can remedy.

I do know that I had the gold Honda and I was dating Emil. That puts me working at the Saturn Retail Facility - they were never referred to as something so common as a car dealership! I began working there shortly after my 30th birthday (1993) and left, I think in 1998. Again, the associations... 911 happened just after I started at the University of Detroit Mercy, subtract 2 years for community college, which I started in January... that must have been 1999.

I'm going to be so much fun when I'm a rambling old woman in a nursing home! 

For arguments sake, we'll say the year was 1994.

It was 1994. I'd been divorced since Christmas 1989. I met Emil in 1993 and we began dating somewhere in 1994. He was newly divorced. We each had two sons. All four boys were close in age - a two year span from the eldest to the youngest. All four were skinny, leggy, and sandy haired. Emil and I are short, with dark hair. The boys got along like the best of friends - and they were all well behaved. That's not mis-memory or wishful thinking. They really were! My boys adored Emil. His boys nicknamed me SuzyQ. I'm sure they had a reason. I'm sure neither of us knows what that reason was! But, they seemed to enjoy my company.

Emil and I lived in separate homes in metro Detroit. My ex-husband lived nearby and saw our two sons every day. Emil's wife remarried and took their two sons to the middle of the Upper Peninsular of Michigan, a distance of 360 miles. But she determined that the half-way point between their two homes was the St. Ignace side of the Mackinac bridge - 63 miles from her home. Emil had grown up in a small town near Saginaw, 100 miles from Detroit. His family remained there.

Thanksgiving rolled around. That American holiday about giving thanks among family ... no matter how far away. Naturally, my ex-husband wanted his children for Thanksgiving. My ex-husband's mother wanted to see her grandchildren and her son for Thanksgiving. Emil's mum wanted to see her grandchildren, her son, and his new girlfriend for Thanksgiving. Emil's wife wanted her children for Thanksgiving. And Emil and I wanted to spend time with all four boys for Thanksgiving. 

To appease everyone would mean planning, scheduling, and a lot of driving!

Emil left on the Wednesday to pick up his boys in St. Ignace and drive them to his family home. My boys and I left on Thanksgiving morning and drove to meet them there. The boys had a great time catching up and we had a lovely couple of hours meeting Emil's family. I left to deliver my sons to their father, and dinner with his family. Then I turned around and drove the 100 miles straight back to Emil and his family. Because we do crazy things for the people we care about!

We shared a few more hours with Emil's family then split up. He to drive his sons northward, back to their home. Me, southward, to mine, where we planned to meet later.

1994. Before cell phones.

I had bought the Honda at the end of 1990, after a truck made my very compact Omni even more compact, one week before Christmas! I had bought it from the Honda dealership where I worked at the time, at Michigan and Inkster. I bought it used. With 13 miles on the odometer. Joe, the finance manager there had pleaded my case with Pete, the owner. Joe, subsequently took me from that dealership to another at Ferndale and Woodward, and then on to the Saturn retail facility. I loved my little Honda. A Civic DX, rear spoiler, mud flaps, and A.C. - something the black Dodge Omni lacked! 

My little gold Honda was going to last me a long time!

I sped off down I-75, through Saginaw, where the snow started. Through Flint, where it became a blizzard, and on to where it truly was white-out conditions ... and the Honda decided to stop. I had felt the car slowing, turned on the hazards and got to the hard shoulder before the car quit. And there I sat. At the side of the road. In the dark. In a blizzard. White-out, where you couldn't see the car in front. I didn't know if my hazards were working. I didn't know if they could be seen from the road. I didn't know when a police car might happen by. It was 1994. I had no cell phone. I didn't know where I was. And, I certainly wasn't going to get out of the car. I didn't really know what my options were, other than to bundle up and wait for either rescue or death from hypothermia.

I sat for maybe 15 mins, although it seemed like an hour, when all of a sudden I saw the lights of a car pull up behind me. They weren't the lights of a police car. Two figures approached my door. Ok, option 3 flit across my mind: apparent rescue followed by death at the hands of strangers in some Michigan backwood.

One stranger knocked on the window, brushing the snow away and shining a light so that I could see his face. An older gentleman ... but still. I couldn't roll the window down. The car was dead, as dead as I feared I might soon be. I opened the door slightly and was told that they had seen my car get off the road, and that they were out looking for their daughter who hadn't yet returned home. Did I need help?

I spent much of my early years being raised by my grandmother.  A women of blind faith, who 'knew no strangers.' She believed everyone has a story if you're willing to listen. Some of that love and trust of humanity was imparted to me. My mothers distrust of everyone sort of evened things out. I have pretty good intuition. I told them that I did indeed need help in getting the car and me towed to safety.

They suggested I go with them to their home and call for the tow truck. Return with them to the Honda to meet the tow truck. Ride with the tow truck to drop off the car, then return with them to their home and ... well, we weren't really sure of the next part.

So, I found myself being driven to a home, I knew not where. As we drove the short distance, they introduced themselves. They seemed like a decent, middle aged, Mid-Western, mom and pop. We arrived at their home, decorated for the holidays, fire in the grate, table set for dinner, teenaged and younger kids running through the house. All waiting for their elder, college aged, sister to arrive. I felt safe.

We called the tow truck, towed the Honda, and returned to their home to determine the next phase of my evening. I was trying to do a mental calculation of where Emil might be, would he have reached St Ignace by now. Was the blizzard as bad further morth? I was invited to stay and join them for Thanksgiving dinner. But the blizzard was abating. I was preoccupied with getting home. Emil was supposed to get to my home later, and my boys early the next morning. I decided to call my friend Raab.

Raab was an ex-boyfriend. He lived not far from me. He didn't like driving long distances. He considered long distance to be anything out of Wayne County - and, actually, even much within the County! This was Thanksgiving. He was with his family. There was a blizzard, although now probably just slush and snow. I was certainly out of the County. In fact, a few counties over. I was 66 miles away, in Fenton.

You do crazy things for the people you care about. Raab drove all the way up to Fenton to rescue me - my second rescue of the evening. And what did he get for his troubles?

He knocked on the door. It was answered by the gentleman of the house who immediately introduced himself as Mel Torme. I saw the laughter rising in Raab, quickly thanked my hosts, and almost pushed Raab to the car before his laughter exploded. Yes, my hosts were Mr. and Mrs. Mel Torme of Fenton. Apparently no relation to the other, more famous one.

Raab deposited me safely at home. Emil arrived safely many hours later. The Honda was never seen again - to be replaced by an evil red Ford Escort, and then by my beloved Silver Steed.

Many years later, while living in Fort Myers, I met a man wearing a baseball cap that had 'Fenton, Mi' emblazoned across it. I told him I had once met a Mr. Mel Torme of Fenton, Mi. He knew him well. They were neighbors. Mr. Torme was a well known and loved fireman in the town.

This is my Thanksgiving story. The one that reminds me every year that we do crazy things for the people we care about, that I have been loved, cared for, and cherished by many wonderful people, that there are angels among us, and that I have much for which to be thankful.

Autumn kayak at Deer Prairie Creek

A gorgeous morning spent kayaking Deer Prairie Creek - which is apparently shaped like a string of V's or W's - the pointy ones, not the rounded ones. Each slant with a tree in the middle and a sand bank on your planned tree evasion route. You know, just enough length to get up speed before another turn ... but the kayak in front of you has stopped to avoid the next tree... I don't do sharp corners well in a kayak! Especially when followed by sudden stops.

Upon return, my kayak looked as though I'd been out doing a tree survey; checking that those were indeed saw palmettos on the banks. If you've ever come in contact with a saw palmetto, you know how they got their name 😉. Each stem has teeth, like a saw. The saw catches on to fabric and skin, it doesn't discriminate, and cuts and cuts as much as it can. 

Still, a glorious morning on the water. We saw alligators, turtles, osprey and limpkins. We fought the wind on the way out and made sure not to get blown over the weir on the way back. I really do need to get out kayaking more often. Although, perhaps not at Deer Prairie Creek... i think I'll save that for hiking.

Eagles Landing 9/17/2021

I was assigned to be the logistics (logs) helper, so my day was relatively easy! At least, I consider it easy - some people hate doing logistics and prefer to do 'real' work; the sweaty, dirty, dusty kind. I enjoy doing both.

Lots of driving - yes, I was given the keys to the truck and have been zipping back and forth between Texas and New Mexico, with time hanging out in various places on base - trying to determine the locations of basic things like available showers for 20 people, laundry where they will wash by the pound - they don't generally have websites! - grocery stores, relatively inexpensive places to eat out or order carryout - we have no showers, no laundry facilities, and no kitchen on site, although we do have a microwave and a fridge.

We each have a visitors pass for base and another for camp, and we have to keep them on us at all times. The pass for base is a piece of paper, 8.5"x11" ... I wonder how many we'll lose!

The camp is intense - chaotic - lots of hard work going on there in the dust and heat, and so many Afghan evacuees, or 'guests.' The greyshirts (TR volunteers) who work in the warehouse look exhausted at the end of the day and I feel guilty.

The scenery is desert, very different from the Florida swamp I spend time surveying, and very much as I would imagine parts of Afghanistan. I wonder what these guests think of their situation - in a camp, with limited freedom of movement, guarded by the army. Its quite surreal.

Our freeway exit is the last before Mexico. There's a lot to think about.

Eagles Landing 9/16/2021

While waiting to board, I began replying to a recently received, lovely long letter from a friend in the UK. A little boy sitting opposite me was intrigued. I wasn't sure if it was because I was actually writing with pen and paper, or because I was writing on airmail paper (Basildon Bond, of course!), thin, with the guidesheet underneath. It's one of those little archaic pleasures that my schoolfriend and I still enjoy.

I'm bemused that the airline announced they had run out of overhead storage space on the flight from Tampa to Dallas, Fort Worth. It begs the questions how and why... if each traveller is allowed one 1 overhead and one personal piece of luggage on the plane, how do they run out of space almost every time?

On the flight from Fort Worth to El Paso, I noticed a soldier clutching a stuffed toy  dog. Naturally, I was curious about the story behind this. The dog is Fido, "The emotionless support dog." Fido was given to Sergeant Hebert and Specialist Buckley by pupils at a school where they did outreach. Fido has travelled with Hebert and Buckley to Iraq, Kuwait, and assorted countries within Europe and the Middle East.

Hebert and Buckley were on their way to Ft. Bliss, and then on to Louisiana - going home early because they had each lost their homes in hurricane Ida.

Lisa, my fellow TR volunteer, (we're known as Greyshirts) had flown in from another TR op in Louisiana - working disaster relief in the neighboring town to Hebert and Buckleys' lost homes.

Barely off the plane and on base at Fort Bliss, my first assignment was to help assemble 20 army cots for our sleeping quarters. I travel for comfort in a casual dress and flip flops ... but, there were cots that needed assembling!

They lied ... We DO have ac!!! - at least where we're sleeping. And it's every but as humid as Florida!

Some team members had arrived in the morning, some the previous week and had been billeted elsewhere, they had all been working in the camp and arrived at base tired, dirty, sweaty and hungry - with stories of the gradual order that was coming to the camp. With the move from one billet to another - this one with no kitchen, we got to know each other over dinner at Chili's.

Lights out at 10pm ... Lights on at 6am.

Eagles Landing 9/15

I'm a volunteer with Team Rubicon, one of the few non Veteran volunteers in this primarily Veteran Disaster Relief organization. This week I'm deploying to one of the many current operations - but this one isn't flood or fire related.  This op is one of several around the country in which the army is working alongside a number of relief organizations to re-settle the Afghan evacuees.

I am deploying to Fort Bliss in Texas and working in the camp in New Mexico. Lest you think that sounds exotic and 'cool,' this came with my dispatch orders: "Billeting will be in a large, open, unairconditioned, government warehouse building with plenty of room for us to spread out for COVID protocols. We will be on cots. There are bathrooms in the billeting area but no showers which will be sourced at a nearby gym and perhaps other locations nearby on base. Daily temperatures are averaging in the mid 90’s with low humidity. It is a desert. It is very breezy and sometimes very dusty."

Oh, without doubt, this is going to be an experience I'll remember!

Island Innovation Ambassador - 2021

I am honored, and excited, to have been selected as an Island Innovation Ambassador for 2021. I look forward to learning from, sharing, and collaborating with, this diverse and inspiring network of professionals.

I was introduced to Island Innovation in 2019 by LinkedIn contact Paul Kreutzer, someone I have never met, but with whom I maintain a running correspondence. Paul thought I might be interested in joining the group and attending the free, annual, virtual, global conference. I researched the group and, from their website, found that they are "a social enterprise and digital media platform at the intersection of sustainable development and communications, offering specialised services across various sectors. We bring together the private sector, government, utilities, NGOs and universities to advance innovation for sustainability and prosperity in islands worldwide."

I was able to attend some of the many presentations in 2019 and found them interesting and the concept fascinating. This was pre-pandemic. Now, of course, virtual conferences are commonplace.

Following Island Innovation on LinkedIn and Facebook introduced me to a wealth of information from professionals all over the world, working on a variety of issues affecting islands big and small.

During the 2020 conference I listened to the experiences of some of the then current Ambassadors, and in late 2020 when I saw the call for Ambassadors for 2021, I wondered if I had the requisite skills, background, and time available to even consider applying.

The main responsibilities of an Ambassador are to: Participate in 1 monthly training session on sustainable development topics; Participate in 1 monthly meeting on Ambassador Program updates; Organize an event in the local community, prior to the Virtual Island Summit 2021; Promote the Virtual Island Summit 2021, and an option to create a video inviting your community to participate in the Virtual Island Summit 2021.

I felt that these were items within my capabilities. Additionally, the application stated that Ambassadors needed to be “passionate about island issues, innovation and sustainable development, of any age, who reside or have resided on an island, with a commitment to represent their island/country, who are able to participate in our activities and meetings, and who are strongly committed to building more sustainable islands.” I submitted my application, crossed my fingers, and was delighted to receive an email stating that I had been accepted – with a reminder that “Island Innovation Ambassadors are considered the face of Island Innovation and will work closely with key stakeholders in the Virtual Island Summit. They will represent their community and network with policy-makers, entrepreneurs and NGO leaders while gaining industry experience and exposure. There will also be a network for future scholarship opportunities.” It was a good way to end 2020 and begin 2021.

I was born and raised on an island, specifically, the UK. My life journey blew me ‘across the pond’ to the USA and planted me in Metro Detroit (Michigan) for a couple of decades, then Florida and Kentucky, and back to Florida. During that journey I raised two sons while earning my bachelor’s degree in civil engineering, became a Certified Floodplain Manager, became a dance teacher, weathered the great recession, became a CRS coordinator for the City of Venice, moved on to the Florida Division of Emergency Management Bureau of Mitigation - Floodplain Management and, most recently, returned to the City of Venice to open my own company, Dancing Waters Consulting, LLC - appropriately named for a dance teaching water resources professional.

My community, the City of Venice, comprises sixteen (16) square miles in Southwest Florida. The city’s general boundaries are the Myakka River to the east and the Gulf of Mexico to the west. A portion of the City is an island, created by the Army Corps of Engineers with the construction of the Intra-Coastal Waterway (ICW) in 1964. In essence, the City is bounded by two major bodies of water and bisected by another. In addition, there are many creeks, tributaries of the ‘Wild and Scenic’ Myakka River, which lead to bays, which flow out of the Venice inlet to the Gulf of Mexico. It is a wonderful place for anyone involved in water resources, particularly floodplain management and resiliency.

The City is a reasonably affluent and very picturesque community. The City has an approximate population of 23,000 – sixty-two percent (62%) of which are retirees. We rely heavily on our ‘snowbirds’ – residents who only reside here during our hospitable winters. Resiliency - climate, economic, and social - and sustainability are important to us.

The Ambassadorship program kicked off 2021 in high gear. An initial meeting provided a platform for us to introduce ourselves, virtually. It is exciting meeting professionals from as far afield as the Orkneys, the Falklands, and closer to home in the Caribbean., All participants engaged, happily sharing projects, and asking questions. Like all good conferences and training programs, each conversation leaving participants energized. It is exciting exploring new software, like Remo, enhancing the Zoom experience, and reading introductions on WhatsApp - although that has the potential to either overwhelm or force you to refine time management skills! I have not yet signed up and joined the Slack channel, but I understand there are numerous thought-provoking conversations happening there. It is easy to see the networking in action and potential collaborations forming.

I was introduced to a podcast on Sargassum, the issues concerning this seaweed – and projects utilizing it in unique ways. I participated in a training offered by The Strategy Innovation Group (SIG) and was subsequently accepted into the SIG Discovery Process Program. I am looking forward to this program and the opportunities it offers to learn and hone strategies for teams and stakeholder engagement.

The February calendar has some interesting items – all but the Ambassador trainings are publicly available. Information and registration can be found on the Island Innovation website. Check it out, perhaps it will pique your interest to be an Ambassador in 2022!

For more information about Island Innovation, please check the following resources:

• Website
• Island Finance Forum
• Blog/Insights
• News
• About Island Innovation

#IslandInnovation #SDG2021 #IslandAmbassador

Chaos and Opportunities

Sun-Tzu said “In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.” I found this to be true during the ‘great recession’ of the last decade; a period which unmoored me and changed my perceptions and behavior. It stripped me bare of all my financial equity and most of my belongings. It forced me to take stock of my abilities, my confidence, self-esteem, and boundaries – personal, physical, mental, emotional. It was, as they say, a learning experience.

It was this experience that enabled me, in 2019, to leave a job that I loved, at the Florida Division of Emergency Management (FDEM) - Bureau of Mitigation, Floodplain Management, to strike out for pastures new. My own company. Time to sink or swim (again?). The fact that I had the support – and admiration – of my boss, Steve (the State Floodplain Manager) was encouraging. Thus began 2020.

I spent January creating my website and social media, catching up with contacts, reaching out to new and budding networks. I suddenly had a contract!!! Not a large one, but somebody trusted me enough to employ me - and pay me the rate I requested. It was exciting.

As we know, the year quickly took a turn for the worse. We began hearing about Covid, but information was conflicting. Reaction and regulations differed depending on the country, and even the part of that country, in which one resided. Finally, on March 1, the Governor of Florida issued Executive Order 20-51. This order directed the State Health Officer and Surgeon General to declare a public health emergency in the State of Florida. This was followed on March 9th with Executive Order 20-52, declaring a State of Emergency. Many other Executive Orders followed, suspending on-premises food and alcohol consumption for customers, closing gyms and fitness centers, requiring visitors to Florida to self-isolate, limiting gathering to a maximum of 10 people, until, on April 1, Executive Order 20-91 stated unequivocally that “Senior citizens and individuals with a significant underlying medical conditions… shall stay home…” and that “all persons in Florida shall limit their movements and personal interactions outside of their home to only those necessary to obtain or provide essential services or conduct essential activities.” This was Florida’s version of lockdown – with many items included in ‘essential activities’ that were excluded in other regions of the world.

Although lockdown, throughout the world, was undoubtedly painful for many people, it was amusing seeing the memes posted by introverts. I am one of those introverts. My friends know that I lead an active life, but as active as it is, it is also largely solitary. It came as a mild shock, largely a surprise, and an oddly humorous revelation, that what many people considered hardship, sacrifice even, was, in effect, my typical life! I would have trouble filling a bubble limited to 3 or 4 people! Perhaps this is something that I need to reflect on once the threat of Covid passes.

Limiting activity had many repercussions, especially in a state top heavy with seniors. The closure of bars and restaurants meant unemployment and a corresponding increase at food banks … food banks whose volunteers had been told to stay home. Again, I am in that demographic still allowed to leave home for essential activities, and opportunities began to present themselves.

I belong to Team Rubicon (TR), a disaster relief organization. Most members of TR are military veterans, one percent (1%) are “kick-ass civilians.” I am not ex-military, but TR is a good fit for me. TR put out a call to man food banks throughout the nation, and I answered that call in both Manatee and Sarasota Counties, eventually leading TR operations on two (2) projects providing food to more than 500 people each day. I would not have had the time had I been working a 40-hour job at FDEM. Fortunately, my efforts were applauded and supported by the gentlemen on whose contracts (by this time plural) I was working.

Later in the year I was able to deploy remotely with TR, on the four (4) hurricanes that hit Louisiana. Deployments like that are truly humbling experiences.

2020 was also an election year. Seniors typically provide the manpower at precincts on election day – and, in Sarasota County, there is a lengthy waiting list. The call went out that paid volunteers were needed for the primaries. I applied, was accepted, did the online and in-person training to be a poll worker, and worked as an Inspector at a nearby precinct. This was a great experience, especially as I had been a US citizen for less than a year. I had also recently become a precinct captain for my precinct. In ‘I know why the caged bird sings,’ Maya Angelou describes her grandmother as being ‘a precinct captain; a very important person.’ This makes me laugh. It really means that I am responsible for making sure that ‘my’ registered voters have the correct information to enable them to vote (where to vote, who is on the ballot etc.,). Being involved in the electoral process meant that I had updated and correct information at my fingertips! And this was going to be an election year like no other!

After the primary election I was asked if I would like to be an Assistant Clerk for the General Election. That sounded interesting - dealing with the serious issues that an inspector is not equipped to handle, so I applied, was accepted, did the online and in-person training, and worked at a different precinct for the November election.

In between the elections, paid volunteers were sought to help fill numerous temporary positions at the Supervisor of Elections. Again, these are typically positions filled by seniors, many of whom were not allowed to leave home. I applied to do a couple of hours a week. I was blindsided by an offer of 40 hours a week to scan the Vote by Mail (VBM) ballots and verify the signatures. That was more than I wanted to do, but VBM was shaping up to be a really big deal in this election… I spoke to my clients who, to a man, said “do it, and thank you!” I spoke to HR and said that if I needed to step away for phone calls concerning my business, then that came first. Everyone was on-board, so I participated in the election of 2020 on so many levels it was both informative and entertaining.

2020 was also the year of the Census. Now, that was a learning experience! As a Geographic Information Systems (GIS) person; a map maker and data analyst, it is always interesting to see how other people develop and deploy GIS software.

I should add that I was free to take these opportunities because I have no-one depending on me. It sounds harsh, perhaps pitiable - or pitiful, to say that my life is expendable, and that is not what I mean to infer. 

For too many people, 2020 was a horrible year. However, pandemic aside, it was one of the most enjoyable and fulfilling years of my life. In trying to remain sensitive to others, I delayed writing this, but I also wanted to share with friends. Besides volunteer opportunities, my 2020 was filled with the following memorable activities:

• I had a photo accepted in the Museum of Youth Culture ‘Grown up in Britain’ exhibit.

• After 20+ years as a Servas member, I became a Servas interviewer and even conducted my first interview. Unfortunately, no travelling is taking place, and may not resume until 2022. When it does, I’ll be ready.

• I participated in a GIS competition, beta testing new GIS software.

• I participated in the annual Horseshoe crab survey season, surveying Charlotte Harbor Estuary.

• I became certified, through the UN, on designing resilient cities.

• I did my first ever tree survey.

• I surveyed eagle nests!

• I was selected to represent my City as a 2021 ambassador for Island Innovation.

Yes, for me, 2020 was a good year.

Lockdown- the beginning

Early January 2020, I began getting my company organised, I sponsored a floodplain management training, I called municipalities and offered my services. I ordered all my FEMA manuals. I downloaded a variety of open source software. I was prepared, or at least prepping.

I had attended the Presidential candidate debates while I was living in Tally. Having returned to Venice, I thought I'd check out what the Venice Democrats were up to … and then Dave and I met for lunch. The meeting derailed me and threw me into a deep dark hole.

You have no-one to blame but yourself when you choose not to see the signs; the friends you don't get to meet because they're racist, the things you don't get to do because he's hungover, the arguments because he's drunk, the arguments because he hasn't had a drink, the trips destroyed because of alcohol, ignoring the quiet voice inside saying "leave now. Walk away now. I know you love him, but you don't deserve this." My anger at myself for allowing the relationship to continue, my introspective questioning why I kept taking him back… The grief, the anger, the sadness hit me hard, to the point of paralysis. I did not come out of this until March … in time for the country to join the rest of the world in Covid lockdown.

At the Venice Democrats meeting in January, I had innocently asked about the elections, poll watching, precincts. I realise now I had been quite vague so when 'they' said "we'd love to have you as a precinct Captain" I said "oh. Ok. Sure. Sign me up." And so, I became a precinct captain; the cheerleader who chivvies everyone to the polls to cast their ballots, making sure they know for whom those votes should be cast. The chivvying, in my case, takes the form of a weekly newsletter. Nice and impersonal, very informative, all my organizing done from the anonymity of my computer screen … except the registered Democrats in my precinct began emailing me and calling me, telling me how much they enjoyed the newsletter, asking questions, stopping me to chat in the parking lot.

My precinct is a little one – we are an anomaly in this very red (Republican) county; currently we have 324 Democrats, 326 Republicans, and 225 non-party affiliates. The numbers fluctuate, but only by 1 or 2 a week. Having this knowledge has enabled me to embolden my little band of Democrats: they no longer whisper to each other when they're at the pool, they've been ordering car bumper stickers, I set them tasks each week; read up on one of the seven races, know why you're voting for the candidate - and why you're not voting for the other candidate. It's a bit like being a cub scout den leader again, except they're 70, not 7, there are no merit badges, and there are 300+ of them instead of 10. It's actually quite fun! - and I feel I'm doing my bit towards the election, towards maintaining democracy.

Covid lockdown brought another element. The Governor's Executive Order mandated that all those aged 60 and over remain home. Florida is known as God's waiting room. The common saying hereabouts is "when you retire you move to Sarasota. When your children retire to Sarasota you move to Venice. When your grandchildren retire to Sarasota, your children move to Venice and you move to Englewood." All those retirees do a lot of voluntary work. Suddenly, as food banks were being over-run and polling locations were being prepped, those volunteers were ordered to remain home. Not only was I still allowed out - taking necessary precautions - but I was now able to volunteer for positions not usually accessible to me because of a perverse twist in ageism!

2019 - The abridged version

2019 was a wonderful year. I traveled the State as part of the State Floodplain Management Office (SFMO). We worked on a pilot program that impressed FEMA, a program we hope will be rolled out across the country. 

I had been 'on a promise' for the job with the SFMO before I left to see the world in 2018, and was excited to explore its opportunities. Dave and I had got back together, we'd even agreed to move to Tallahassee together; we were in this for the long haul … until we weren't, barely 2 months later, when he decided to stay in Sarasota with his new girlfriend, Caroline.

The job with the SFMO allowed me to stay in Venice, working remotely, until March or April. During that time I saw many potential red flags - and I wasn't sure if the excitement and potential of the job could outweigh them. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and off I went to Tally … keeping my place in Venice, and renting a room in Tally, for just a bit longer while I checked out just how red those flags were.

As the year went on,I realised that I loved the work but felt very constrained. Since becoming a single parent in 1989 I had fought to maintain balance in my life. Suddenly I found that plans were being switched at a moment's notice and that maintaining balance in my own life was beyond my control. I found that I loved consulting with municipalities - and their consultants - but also frustrated that I was consulting with those same consultants, many of whom would, or could, do nothing to make the recommended changes. I found that, although I was a viable member of the team, I had no outlet for many of my diverse skills.

In September I travelled to La Rochelle for an international flood conference. Paid for, like so many conferences, from my own funds. But, this time, I was presenting. I loved the exchange of ideas from many countries - similarities in risk and 'buzz words," but vast differences in national leadership and programs. It gave me a lot to think about.

I returned from the conference wondering if I might be better off on my own. Steve, my boss, answered those questions in the positive - encouraging me to leave whilst expressing his desire that I stay! His final comments to me, when I eventually left, were "I thought, when I hired you, that I'd never be able to keep you. I knew I'd be grateful for every day I had you here, and I have been.'

I left the SFMO in December and travelled back to Venice. A new year, a new decade, a new beginning. A new company all of my own. I'd been in 'sink or swim' situations a few times before. This time it was one entirely of my own choosing. 2020 beckoned enticingly, full of promise.

June 8th: Goodbye Fes, hello Meknes

Photos for this post
We set out to cover all the places we missed yesterday, with the bare bones of a plan which was continually upset by Ramadan practices. Moral: don’t ever travel in a Muslim country during Ramadan unless you have your own transportation, carry petrol and food with you and can go easily with the flow … We were travelling light, on a budget, and we had train connections to make.

We sought out busses again, but to no avail. I stopped in a local shop to ask directions and best way of getting to the places on our agenda, and we were told that taxi was our best - really only - option. The shop employee was only too happy to negotiate a “fair” price with a very unhappy, very unwilling taxi driver who spoke no english or French and apparently only a smattering of Arabic. For this price, the driver would take us to each place and allow an “appropriate” amount of time for us to visit each place before moving along.

We asked to be taken to the Necropolis de sultan Merinides, thinking that would be the best place to begin, high on the hill before the noon day sun, also the location furthest from our hotel. The driver had no idea which place we meant, so we had to point … up there on the hill! INauspicious beginnings... The ruins are large monumental tombs, believed to date from the 14th century when the Merenides dynasty ruled over Fes, but it is not known who is buried in these particular tombs! They provide a spectacular view of the historic city, and an excellent place to hear the call to prayer broadcast simultaneously from the 400+ mosques in the medina. The taxi driver wound his way up the hill, parked alongside the monuments and indicated gruffly that we had 5 minutes! Just enough time to wander and snap a couple of photos. He then determined that our next stop should be the Royal palace which you can’t actually visit, but you can jump out of the taxi and snap another quick photo under the watchful eyes of many armed security guards. The royal palace, Dar Al Makhzen, was built in the 13th century during the Merindes dynasty. Its 80 hectares encompass a madrasa (school), mosque, parade ground and gardens. There is a large square in front of the palace - the place of Alawites - but we were the only people there.

We drove past the Bab Sammarine - the Sammarine gate, one of 14 ornate gates to the medina - on our way to Le Jardin Jnan Sbil et la place Boujloud. But, Ramadan …the gardens were closed until later that day. The driver agreed to take us on to Le Musee Dar el batha. But, Ramadan … the museum was closed. The friendly young guard, who spoke impeccable English, French and Arabic, helped us deal with the increasingly agitated taxi driver. It was agreed that he would take us to, and leave us at, the Bab Boujloud entry to the medina where we would probably find food. From that point on we would be on our own. But, the museum and gardens should be open by the time we walked back.

We drove through the Andalusiyya quarter, the oldest part of the medina, to see the Spanish style wooden balconies that my aunt remembered from previous visits. Then had a dismal lunch just outside the medina. So few places were serving food that we were just happy to sit, eat and regroup in the intense heat.

We walked back to Le Musee Dar el batha, following the blue dots on my phone as we had in so many other situations. The beautiful museum, which showcases art and cultural traditions of Morocco, was a 19th century palace and a summer residence, built by Sultan Moulay Hassan I, who was committed to modernization and reform. We stayed there for hours wandering through the various rooms, each with a different yet ornate door, and lush gardens. Jacaranda trees!I first saw Jacarandas when I went to Guatemala and thought they were the most beautiful tree I’d ever seen; the flowers almost transparent. I was thrilled when I moved to Florida and watched them bloom each spring, and here they were in this garden. It was a delightful surprise and began to make up for the stress of dealing with the taxi driver in the morning.

The guard at the museum told us that we really should visit Le Jardin Jnan Sbil, gave us directions and sent us on our way. The garden is a far cry from the hustle and bustle, frenetic pace of the medina. It is peaceful, quiet, calm …. it is where the locals visit to picnic, and stroll. Rose beds, reminded me of England, jacarandas and avenues of palm trees recalled my home in Venice, Florida. It was the perfect continuation of the day, but we still had other places on our list ... we had to pick up our luggage from the riad and be at the train station for our journey to Meknes.

We left the gardens and tried to hail a taxi cab., thinking that we could possibly fit in the Medersa abou inania and the castle. The Medersa is part of the Kairaouine University, an architectural masterpiece built in 1350 and, unbelievably, open to the public. We couldn’t get a taxi cab to stop for us. No matter where we stood they just whizzed right by us. In desperation we asked a passing trio of armed guards were we could get a taxi. Their response was to step into the street and wave one down for us! It’s amazing how quickly a taxi driver will stop for armed guards …

Taxis in Morocco have an odd system; if they already have a fare, they will stop to pick up additional fares, and the burden of paying for the entire ride - not just their portion - falls to the new fare. We requested the castle as it was relatively close by, but found ourselves being taken back to the Necropolis de Sultan Merinides. Producing maps didn’t help, neither the driver nor additional passenger seemed to know where or what we meant by the castle and we drove back and forth and around and around the town, with the fare ratcheting up and the driver becoming more and more irate … Ramadan; it was getting closer and closer to the time to break the fast, and all the drivers on the road were showing signs of road rage exacerbated by the heat. It really was a comedy of errors. So, time being of the essence, we asked to be taken to Medersa abou inania. Then, with traffic against us, resigned ourselves to returning to the riad.

We made it back to the riad, thanked Isham for his hospitality and began our walk back to the taxi rank for yet another round of bartering over the fare as the drivers all want to be close to home when it is time to break their fast - and the fares are increased because … Ramadan! Although we had walked back and forth from the riad many times during our stay, my aunt decided that now was the time to try out a new route, after all didn’t have anywhere special to be - just the train station for a soon to be departing train. Some times on this trip I have been patient with my aunt and she with me. Today had not been one of those days, for either of us. Now we were being severely tested.

We made it to the train station on time, taken by possibly the only driver in Fes who charged a decent rate. He must be new to the business! Soon we were on our way to Meknes. We hailed a taxi at the station and were told somewhat solemnly that it was in the old part of the medina, no-one goes there, the driver wouldn’t be able to take us to the door and wasn’t actually sure of the exact location, and he wanted to be home soon for Ramadan. To be honest, I had spent 23 years in Dearborn, Michigan, and had enjoyed the feasting and celebrating that goes along with Ramadan in the Arabic capital of America. But now it was just getting on my nerves. My blood pressure rising with each mention of the word!

The driver dropped us off at what he hoped was the closest location to the riad and, once again, we trusted our direction to the little blue dots on the map on my phone. Some boys in the street saw us and offered to show us the way …The medina in Essaouria is spacious and open, Fes is frenetic. Meknes just seemed dodgy., back alleys with dubious types. It appeared to have no redeeming qualities. For the first time on this trip I had my doubts. Following both my phone and the young men we walked up a steep hill through alleys with little going on and finally found ourselves outside the Riad Idrissi.

We were welcomed into the riad where we would be the only guests that night and, I thought later, for many nights both before and after. We were asked if we would like to join the family for dinner that evening and if we would like to see “an exhibition” that the owner gives of rugs, jewellery and fossils, on travels around the world. Excitedly we agreed to both…. and were then led to our rooms in what could only be described as the penthouse suite. The riad was gorgeous, our room was cosy with a large patio overlooking the medina.

We settled in and were called for the “exhibition,” where the owner showed us beautiful rugs and silver jewellery, but grew more and more surly and displeased as we oohed and aahed with our wallets remaining closed. My aunt did purchase one small rug - I’m sure she felt under no duress! Dinner was served at a separate table from that of the “family.” They were sullen, surly, ignored us and made no attempt to interact with us. It was all very strange - but the food was delicious.

In no mood for any more tramping around strange places, we retired to our room to watch the sun set over the medina. We had been told to keep the plug in the shower closed until we were running water, otherwise the smell from the sewer rose through the drain. I asked my aunt if she knew how to open and close the plug before she had her shower and received a very terse (I’m not a child) “yes!” … scant minutes before the bathroom flooded. Sometimes you just laugh at the silly things that happen, sometimes you cry. That night I cried. I was being worn down very slowly by the travel and the heat, by trying to accommodate my aunt who was doing her best to accomodate me, by the constant language interpretation issues; this trip to Fes & Meknes was beginning to look like a mistake. We fell into our beds with terse, but hesitant, goodnights - and then a gecko ran across the wall by my bed! I smiled. Wearily. But I smiled. Tomorrow is another day.

June 7th: Fes

Photos for this post

Well rested, we sat on the rooftop terrace and enjoyed our breakfast of olives, laughing cow cheese triangles, apricot jam, an assortment of breads, and coffee. Surveying the vast medina in front of us, we planned our stay in Fes: the medina, obviously; the Necropolis de sultan merinides; the royal palace; le Jardins de boujeloud; Le Musee Dar el batha; the Medersa abou inania; and The castle. We should be able to ft all of that in in a day and a half…

We stopped at the bank on the way to the Place R’cif .. and that’s where the fun began. The medina is easier to navigate from Bab Boujeloud - the opposite side of the medina from where we were -, so we looked for a bus to take us there. Apparently taxis are a greater stimulus to the economy so we were told continuously that no busses run around the perimeter of the medina. I’m sure this can’t be true, but people were adamant. So, we hired a taxi to Bab Boujeloud. On departing the taxi we were instantly accosted by guides - all wearing “official” badges. We talked to one guide, and instant a fight broke out between him and other guide, each insisting the other was not “official.” It was not pleasant, and a far cry from Essaouira. Welcome to Fes! While I dealt with both of them - more with looks , gestures and tone of voice - telling them that neither one of them was required, my aunt had picked up another companion. Walking quietly beside her and telling her what sights to look for in the medina was Abdullah. He remained our guide for the day, patiently explaining the history, architecture and culture of the medina. He had been a science teacher and was delighted to answer all of my questions. He led us to all the monuments, as well as the artisans with whom he obviously had agreements. We watched tanners dyeing skins, weavers at work (agave silk!), craftsmen engaged at their various skills. This is a given with guides, and it would be naive to think otherwise, but he was well known - and obviously respected - throughout the medina.

The medina really is labyrinthine, and there is so much to see. Oh gosh, if I had money... the craftsmanship was astounding and, realistically, very inexpensive. We watched silver, copper and bronze smiths at forges, saw breathtaking displays of Berber rugs, saw them them chisel ceramics and visited the tannery ... would that I could afford something from each place. My aunt surprised me with a gift of a gorgeous leather jacket from the tannery. I chose a style and colour, they measured me and delivered it to our riad that evening. One could get used to this lifestyle! A stop at an antique store netted a marriage proposal from the owner, Hush Hush … my future wife is sitting next to me now, inshallah. Um no. That was the signal to leave! Again, I’m not naive enough to believe this doesn’t happen every hour, at least!

We meandered through the medina entering the Bab Boujloud, the western entrance to the old medina. We traced the narrow alleys, suddenly and unexpectedly running into donkey trains making deliveries. Thanks to Abdullah we were given entry to Glaoui Palace - The Old Palace, the Pasha of Marrakesh’s second home. Once very grand, but poorly maintained and in need of repair since Morocco's independence from France in 1956. It was still a treat to see the opulence that once was. We stopped to peek into El Karaouiyne Mosque and library, open only to Muslims. The mosque was founded by Fatima al-Fihri in 859 with an associated school, or madrasa, which became one of the leading spiritual and educational centers of the historic Muslim world. It is said to be oldest existing, continually operating and the first degree awarding educational institution in the world. We visited the Tomb of Idriss II, founder of Fes, but again were only allowed to peek inside. The day was hot, the medina crowded, the sights and scents overpowering. There was only so much we could do. We conceded defeat after visiting the ceramic factory and were brought back to Place R’cif by a taxi driver with a penchant for the Barcelona soccer team. The Necropolis de sultan merinides, the royal palace, le Jardins de boujeloud, Le Musee Dar el batha, the Medersa abou inania, and The castle, they would all have to wait for the morrow … with an earlier start and a better plan.

We returned to the riad, where Isham was waiting for us. Shortly thereafter my jacket was delivered but the credit card machine was having problems and cash would be a better alternative. My aunt left with the man from the tannery … and neither Isham nor I were sure if either would be seen again!