Allyson Johnson

Pieces of my Mind

Archive for the category “Memoir”

08 Feb 2013

Canada – the Alien Next Door – Day 6 – the Rockies by Rail – All aboard!

The view from the Rocky MountaineerBy 7 AM we are breakfasted. By 8Am shivering on the platform, waiting for our luxury train to arrive. A far-off whistle blows! We see an oncoming light! Everyone pulls out cameras, starts snapping photos. It’s coming closer! It’s getting louder! It’s not stopping! It’s a freight!Here it comes!
It’s a loooooooooooooong freight. Everyone puts their cameras away, goes back to shivering.
Another distant whistle. Another headlight. This time it’s the real thing – the Rocky Mountaineer, striped elegantly in black and gold.Dome car on the Rocky Mountaineer - outside

Uniformed attendants jump from the doors and spread  a red carpet on the platform to mark where you are to mount the train. We have been issued special red-enameled maple leaves which entitle us to seats in the bubble dome car and hot meals served in the downstairs dining space. (Lowly gold-enameled leaf-ers have to make do with box lunches served at their seat.)
Dome car, Rocky Mountaineer

On the train!Comfy reclinable seats!  Snack tables!  Scenery! Clean windows! Open bar! Food, snacks, local cuisine – hopeless! I haven’t seen a scale since we left, but I’m beginning to dread when I do.

Tonight : Dinner and overnight in cosmopolitan Kamloops

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23 Jan 2013

Canada – the Alien Next Door: Day 4 – Via the Icefields Parkway to Banff

Lake Louise with Lodge and RowersThe geologic past and my personal past meet on the bus at the  Continental divide.  (How’s that for an opening summary?)

We leave Jasper early via our luxury bubble-bus.

30 minutes out of Jasper, a cluster of parked cars signals another wildlife sighting – a young grizzly bear with a broken or sprained left rear leg is limping as rapidly as it can along the side of the road behind a small scree of shrubs – best case, it was just nicked by a car and is hobbling in panic, may recover shortly;  worst case it is an older injury and this bear will be at a serious survival disadvantage through the winter.Bashful Bear

The Continental Divide – a marker by the road (see the streams reverse direction!)  I imagine being an early explorer – did they register, in this vertical landscape, that they had begun to trend downhill?

Athabasca FallsGlaciers –  Athabaska Falls – a swirling torrent carving narrow channels and deep bowls through layers of sandstone; the Athabaska glacier creeping out from the Columbia Ice Field, which coats the top like a smoothed coat of white sugar frosting.  Mt. Athabaska with its own glaciers,  glacial silt and gravel coloring the streams flowing into Hudson Bay, the Arctic, or the Pacific. (the Triple Divide).

We picnic by the Athabaska River with box lunches, surrounded by lofty peaks, fireweed, buffalo berry bushes,  friendly ground squirrels. Our companions, the nature guide and the professorial geologist, are  cascading fountains of natural and geologic interpretation.

The cheerful ride-along spouse of the tour organizer strikes up a conversation.  Turns out he student-taught at the same high school where my mother was Vice Principal, and remembers a number of the faculty members who were family friends and authority figures from my teen years.    Déjà vu all over again.

We make a stop at Lake Louise.  I flashback to an early trip when my husband and I were camping across Canada and a lot more energetic.  I can clearly remember the lovely summer day we spent walking around and rowing on this green lake cradled in the glaciers.  The lake has not changed;  younger people are still rowing on it;  the sky is still blue beyond the stately Lake Louise Lodge.

Banff Springs Hotel - original entranceWe ended the day at Banff Springs Lodge.  On that same trip many  years ago we set up our tent in the national park campground nearby.  Feeling grubby and un-washed after a hike, we managed to sneak into the Banff Springs Lodge swimming pool area and take a  memorable illicit dip;  I tried to reconstruct the memory as we re-entered as paying guests, but it was not easy.  In the intervening years the entrance has been re-positioned to accomodate large tour buses, and  the spacious outdoor pool with its grassy surround has been caged and over-chloriniated inside a glass dome.   The new outdoor pool is half the former size and surrounded by concrete.  Also,   the fencing and overall security have been improved to prevent riff-raff such as we were from sneaking in as we did.

We learned that in the time since our last visit the hotel has converted from a summer-only tourist hotel to a year-round tourist/ bus tour/spa/ski/corporate- incentive- trip resort;  hence closing in the outdoor pool (too expensive to heat year – round) and other changes.  Not changed:  the many nooks and crannies of the hotel – more small and large lounges, bars, restaurants, and meeting rooms than one could exhaust,  plus a second large extension convention center and staff rooms in an adjacent building.

In honor of our previous visit, we went swimming.

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15 Jan 2013

Canada – the Alien Next Door – Day 3 – The Jasper tourist loop

Mystery Island, Maligne Lake

Day 3 is fully scheduled.  We are given an itinerary review at our

8AM breakfast and STRONGLY CAUTIONED not to be the last on the bus.  We managed despite accidentally locking ourselves out of the room safe with all our desirables inside – security has its price. After breakfast, a

9AM  lecture by our Canadian co-leaderBarry on Canadian people and politics build on the theme of successive immigration.  I had somehow never thought about what was going on in Canada next door while the US was experiencing its two hundred years of history.   I hope I will never take Canada as lightly again. At

10AM, the group clears its collective head from all that back-room political talk with a ranger-led nature walk around the periphery of the lake.  I would have liked to go the whole route, but we were due back at the lodge by

11AM  to  purchase “lunch on our own.”  That’s codespeak for “we’d have no hope of getting you all out on time if we tried to organize lunch for you.” We munched and crunched sandwiches from the downstairs deli so that by

12 noon we were all on the bus to Maligne Lake.

12:30  – more sheep at a road turnout.  More photos.Tourist-savvy sheep

1:30 – on a boat tour of Maligne Lake.  This interglacial gem was put onthe Canadian maps by a woman  who had lost her 20-years – older husband and  both parents, within a short space, wanted to get away from her life, came to Jasper and married her 20-years-younger tour guide, a “Meti” (half Indian, half Anglo) who led her to Maligne Lake.  (“She was a cougar!” says tour guide Mark).  We take a boat tour out to the Photo Opportunity which makes all the post cards – a little island with a small grove of pine trees just off the shore.  (See the  Opportunity above).

3:30: Bus back to Jasper lodge.

4:45: we blow off a lecture on Rocky Mountain wildlife adaptation strategies and go swimming.  The Lodge includes a lovely 88 degree pool with  lots of sun, not too many children… very QUIET – no one lecturing or asking questions, blessed peace.

Beats a lecture!5:45:  We leave the swimming pool,return to our little cabin/haven to  dress leisurely for dinner.   Dinner is  outside on the deck with a 180-degree lake and mountan view,  fresh air and all the outdoors to dissipate the chatter of conversation.

9PM: The deck is the place to be, with the lake still glimmering, the late summer sun still loaning a glow to the sky,  and a storm visibly gathering, with clouds billowing grandly as if to belittle the mountains’ puny pretensions.  The wind picks up; the mosquitoes are gone, the stars are playing hide and seek beyond the clouds.

I have to keep reminding myself:  It’s probably not this perfect in February.  But for now – Wow!

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07 Jan 2013

Canada: The Alien Next Door – Day Two – Edmonton ->Jasper

 Baggage out by 7:30 AM – What kind of vacation is this?  We board the bus after a breakfast of respectable scrambled eggs and hotel fruit and mini croissants with authentic Canadian  bitter marmalade, washed down by a flood of commentary from the indefagitable conversationalists at our shared table.  No shrinking violets in this group!

A bus, no matter how well equipped and well-upholstered, is still a bus, and a bathroom break is still required.  Not even a Stanford brochure could make the loo at Entwhistl’s lone Esso station a four-star experience.  Well, maybe the INSIDE one, but the line was long, so we were directed to the outside auxiliary.

Problem: no window and no lightbulb. Not even the guys could see where to aim.  Happily,  in my day pack was a souvenir key ring from a months- earlier trade show with a miniature flashlight.  We passed this gem around – my former employer EMC got value for its money with this marketing tool!

51st street, Edson

51st street, Edson

Lunch at Epson – at the intersection of 4th and 51st streets. Yeah, right.   A total population of about 8000 people means that about 45 of those 51 streets are merely a gleam in a developer’s eye. A three course meal at the Mountain Pizza and Steak House, then back on the bus all woozy from too much food and not enough exercise. Busing through the anorexic evergreen forest with equally anorexic birch trees crowding together – so much more vertical-looking than the robust pines and aspens of the lower Sierras! Down timber combines with melted snow rotting into mulch across the rolling tundra. The Rockies are a low-lying cloud layer in front of us.Roadside Attraction
Then five minutes down the road we spot a giant – antlered elk on our side of the road, calmly grazing. More photos. Our guide is agog: “Never have I seen so much wildlife in such a short stretch. “ Fine with us!
On a clear day, I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to spend time than Jasper Lodge.  In addition to the breath-taking natural setting, there is  a large central lodge with lots of comfy chair groupings in which to sit and admire the wonderful view across Lac Beauvert toward the mountains. Lots of satellite cabins. Overflowing baskets of petunias and geraniums hanging from every lamppost and over every door. Blue sky, clouds rising and disappearing, mountains reflected in the glassy, forest-rimmed lake. Of the places we visit on this trip, none will invite us back more strontly.

Amenities of our tour include: A 5PM lecture on Glacial Geology by Scott Burns, the official Professor.  Drinks both spiritous and not  on the deck. Dinner of salmon with lentils and asparagus and a monologue on Canadian politics by Barry the Tour Guide.   We escaped to  quiet of our cabin.  Happily, we have another whole day at this bucolic refuge.

Jasper Lodge from Beavert Lake, with happy tourist

Jasper Lodge from Beavert Lake, with happy tourist

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Lounge at Jasper Lodge

Posted in bus travel, Canada, Memoir, Travel and tagged , | Leave a comment
31 Dec 2012
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From Russia with Mom – Postscript

My 4-year-old grandson was admiring the scarf I bought for his father in Finland (lots of cute cartoon reindeer)  His comments:

“Grandma went all around the world on a boat!”

[Pause]

“She was paddling really fast!”

Posted in Baltic cruise, Memoir, Travel and tagged , , ,
02 Dec 2012
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Berkeley CA – From Hippie to Hip

We came to Berkely by BART – public transportation.  We each had a small suitcase and a shoulder pouch for water and a granola bar on BART.  We surfaced at Shattuck and Alford to the new Berkeley.

The formerly grubby BART plaza has been upgraded with brick paving and  ornamental iron lampposts. Brightly blooming flower baskets and brightly colored graphic banners swing from the lampposts.  Instead of a rush of pan-handlers, we are greeted by a bright-green and teal booth with a placard “Welcome to Berkeley” staffed by two beaming green-and-teal jacketed volunteers armed with  Downtown Berkeley maps and information brochures about where to Sleep, Dine, Shop, or take in Art and/or Theatre.  All seems to be happening within a few blocks of where we are standing.

Our hotel, the Shattuck Plaza Hotel, is less than a block from the BART plaza.  There are a couple of people selling beaded jewelry from a blanket on the plaza, a guy strumming a guitar and singing in a creaky voice, but it all seems quite tidy.

We enter the lobby of the hotel, past a new plaque proclaiming its historic past.  The interior is quirkily renovated:  the original arched windows still line the lobby, the high ceiling is still supported by Ionic and Doric columns, but the white marble floor has a huge peace symbol inlaid at the entrance, the décor is Victorian curliques executed in minimalist black and white with red accents in the Venetian glass chandeliers and wall sconces.

Suite at Shattuck Plaza

Suite at Shattuck Plaza

Oh happy day!  We are upgraded to a suite!  A long and twisting 5th-floor corridor leads us to two nicely furnished rooms in pastels and a fine view overlooking the bay, the San Francisco skyline, and the Golden Gate and Bay bridges.

We stroll over to the UC campus.  It is Big Game Weekend, and we can hear the strains of the Cal fight song coming from the band rallying on Sproul Plaza.  By the time we get there, the band is gone, but the booth selling GIVE US THE AXE! and STANFURD T-shirts is still there.  I confess my Stanford allegiance and the clean-cut student vendor actually apologizes to me.

Our dinner in the hotel restaurant, Five, is excellent.  We share a salad of late-season peaches with baby arugula and roasted nuts – like having dessert first! – followed by sustainably caught sea bass in a delicate curry sauce with roasted new potatoes, and an excellent cappuchino.  Then around the corner to Berkeley Rep for a top-flight presentation of a Broadway play featuring a mix of original cast and local performers – all excellent.  We stop off at the Walgreen’s on the corner for some late-night chocolate bars to finish off our evening – it takes us a good fifteen minutes to make our selection from the lavish display of gourmet flavors from Godiva, Lindt, Ghirardelli, and Dove.

The next morning we sit by the arched windows having our breakfast and watch the students of Berkeley High pass by on their way to school.  It is Homecoming Week, and the students are aglow with the school colors of red and gold. Thanks to the fog we are spared body paint and Speedos  The scene could be  the 1950’s (except that the skirts are a lot shorter . )

As we BARTed our way back to the bottom of the bay, I was thinking, it’s not the Berkeley I used to know, but it is definitely a Berkeley worth knowing.

retro Berkeley scene

retro Berkeley scene

Posted in Memoir, Travel and tagged ,
03 Nov 2012
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From Russia with Mom – Day 10 – Ronne Harbor, Bornholm

Danish beer and kippers in Bornholm

Years ago my husband spent his summers as a bus tour guide, sometimes heading up an expedition of seniors going from New York to San Francisco.  His problem was – what do you talk about after Chicago until you get to the Rockies?  He emcee’d a number of trivia contests, draw-the-buffalo contests, sing-a-longs – anything to make the hours pass as they cruised through the open blank spaces of South Dakota and Iowa and Nebraska.

The challenge for our Baltic cruise planner was similar – on one end you have St. Petersburg – the Paris of the Baltic, glittering with history, palaces, and art.  On the other end is Copenhagen – home of the Tivoli Gardens , the historic inspiration for Disneyland.  But in between?  Once you have spent a day in Helsinki and a day in Stockholm, then what?

Our cruise planners did the best they could.  Ronne (Denmark’s laid-back resort island)  provides at least an excuse for parking the boat for awhile, and at best a real sense of what life might be like out of the urban tourist centers.  On Ronne  it would be possible to rent a bicycle and see the land from an inhabitant’s perspective.  From a bus, the experience was like flipping through postcards – stop here at the unusual round church…

Unusual round church

American expat glassblower’s studio

….stop there are the American expatriate glass-blower’s studio,

….have lunch at the Danish deli for kippers, open-face sandwiches and Danish beer (see above)……  Other than these brief emergences, we were in the tourist bubble at all times.

Still, I must not under-value the emergences.  I saw wild-flowers blooming against the seawall, smelled grass drying in the sun, ate a kipper, felt the sun’s heat radiating from the cobbles on a warm day – these will stay with me.

Wildflowers in the sun at Ronne

Posted in Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Memoir, Travel and tagged , ,
31 Oct 2012
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From Russia with Mom – Musing on Cruising

After only three days on the boat we are learning about the culture of cruising.  Life is divided between the Boat and the Bus –  cruising from port to port, followed by  at least one bus tour at each stop.  As a companion/escort for the oldest person on the boat, my goal is :Don’t be last to board the bus.  This is not easy.

In Stockholm we kept no-one waiting as we left the boat, nor after the Vasa Museum.

But we were the last on the bus after visiting the Stockholm City hall where they hold the Nobel Prize banquet each December 10.  Here is what the guide (a charming Swedish Carol Channing type)  said in her Swedish accent:  “When you exit the souvenir shop go through the arch on the left there will be your bus waiting.”

We were not the only ones who heard: “When you exit the souvenir shop, go through the arch.  On the left there will be your bus waiting.”

She meant :” When you exit the souvenir shop, go through the arch on the left.  There will be your bus waiting.”

The issue – there were two arches – one IN FRONT of the exit, as well as a much less prominent arch in the dark on the left when you exit.   So we got lost (along with Christine and Mark from Pennsylvania, bless their hearts) and were retrieved twenty minutes later by the assistant guide who was supposed to be bearing up the rear to make sure all laggards were accounted for, but somehow lost track of us. Bah!

Doing the bus tour each day feels like being part of a canned travelogue in a bubble, but I can’t leave Mom on her own, so I have abandoned the bike tours which were going to be my  variety.  The lap of luxury is still a lap – we are used to being a bit more active.

Back on the boat, at a cocktail party for first-timers we met two other sets of mother/daughter voyagers.  The 89 year old said to Mom –” so sorry to hear you have beaten me by two years – I’m not the oldest on the boat!”

Mom rapped back instantly “I’m sorry too!”  General laughter.

Mom at lunch: “There’s a statue over there – it’s a copy of something that is very familiar;  I think it’s Rodin;, can you name it?”  I look, see no statue.  “I don’t recognize a statue,” I say to her.  She gets up, goes closer to see.  The waiter mimes anxiously, as she wanders toward the deserted corner, “Is she all right?”  I mime “It’s ok.”  Mom looks about in the corner, returns .  “It was a pile of dirty napkins.  That’s AWFUL!”

There are a lot of groups, but we are not part of any.  Even the mothers-and-daughters have other family members they are with, and no invitations to join them are forthcoming  So we are spending a lot of time together.  I have much more understanding of the handicaps Mom is living with – and more admiration for the way she gallantly overlooks and surmounts them.

It is what it is.  Her eyesight and hearing seem to go in and out – she can spot a sign out of the corner of her eye “Did that say ‘teleferique’?” No, it was “telegraf” – pretty close;  and then mistake a pile of napkins for a statue by Rodin.  She can rap right back in conversation, and then not be able to hear me across the table. Meanwhile, I am learning to go at a slower pace, to listen, to think ahead, to appreciate the small comforts of a cozy robe, a sunny balcony, a reclining chair.

Posted in Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Memoir, Travel and tagged , , , ,
25 Oct 2012
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From Russia with Mom – Day 8-9 – Stockholm

Stockholm – Another sparkling day  spent in buses and museums. You can imagine being a Viking on a day like this, cruising through the inlets and isles of the Swedish coast, riding the wind on a dragon boat, monarch of the world!

Some museums are worth it.  The Vasa Museum in Stockholm is a jaw dropper!  Nothing had prepared me for the impact of this one-of-a-kind, perfectly thought-through museum.  Walk into the darkened hallway and enter the cavernous museum hall  and there is a 17th century war ship levitated from the deep like something in a fevered dream of Pirates of the Caribbean, except that not even Jack Hawkins could imagine the demented level of decoration (when you look up the work ornate  in the dictionary … or did I say that before ?) – spars and shrouds and rigging all looking like it is ready to sail off into a night sky to join The Flying Dutchman.   Instead, on its maiden voyage in 1628 the weight of all that decoration caused it to capsize, then sink.  Its masts  sticking up from the bottom were a hazard of the harbor until the embarassed king (who had taken over design when the shipbuilder died) had the masts cut off.

The museum design allows you to view a ship model up close, then go from the top floor down level by level, giving you a close-up view of every detail from the crows nest to the keel.  Videos, slide show overlays, and artifacts document both the building of the ship, the tremendous engineering feat which brought it up in one piece from its resting place of over 500 years, and its meticulously imagined and executed  restoration.

The next Notable Site was the Stockholm City hall where they hold the Nobel Prize banquet each December 10, the anniversary of the death date of Alfred Nobel.  It was fun imagining oneself dancing in the art-deco gold-mosaic  ball room.   The mosaic which dominates the hall does its best to be ecumenical, with Europe and the US represented on one side of the giant goddess of knowledge, and the domes of Istanbul, a tiger, an elephant, some vaguely Chinese mountains and an Arabian flag on the side of Asia.    What about Africa? India? South America?  I guess to the Swedes of 1920 most of the Southern Hemisphere was just geography.

Can you spot the Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty? (lower left)

After the official bus tour I joined up with a fellow cruiser and took the shuttle back to central Stockholm.  Stockholmers tall, healthy, erect, slender, tending to blond.  Streets clean, wide, lined with parks and trees.  What’s not to like?  (It’s a bait-and-switch – think about December when you have only 5 hours of weak sunlight per day!)

[Note: one of the cruise entertainers has written several blog posts about this same trip – for a different point of view, check out Duke Zoran’s Blog on Stockholm]

Tourist shopping tip: to avoid impulse purchases and subsequent buyer’s remorse, be pre-armed with an idea of something you would actually like to buy; if you find it, you have a successful souvenir;  if not, you at least have a way to fend off souvenir hawkers.  My comrade was looking for knitting wool;  we poked around some very interesting shops in the course of finding something wonderful.

Next day – on the bus once more for a tour of the Viking Golden Hoard in the Historical Museum and a visit to the Royal Armoury in the basement of the Royal Palace.  The lean and acidulous retired professor leading the tour  enthralled us with the political maneouvreing between Finland, Russia, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark during the 18th – 20th centuries – seems the Swedes were quite accustomed to cutting their coat to suit the prevailing winds (AKA neutrality).

It was a beautiful day to be passing in a dungeon (the locale of the armoury) so we were glad when the tour brought us back to the boat.  The clouds were hovering and the wind freshening as we left Stockholm harbor , but now post-lunch we are on the sunny side of the boat and Mom is wrapped in a cozy terry robe snoozing  on our balcony as the Baltic Sea rustles by.

We are very close to some of the small islands  – suddenly we are passing a very serious looking gun emplacement with pillboxes set into the hill and large cannons looming.  Guns of Stockharone?

Posted in Baltic cruise, Elderly travellers, Memoir, Travel and tagged , , , ,
19 Sep 2012
1 Comment

21st Century girl meets 19th Century technology

(published in Los Altos Town Crier Aug 10, 2012)

I have traditionally hosted my grand daughter for a week during the summer.  At thirteen she has grown into quite the young lady.  I tried to do some make-believe like we use to do with the stuffed animals in her room and she reproved me with “I’m not a little girl anymore, Grandma!”  I knew this was true when I went up to check on her comfort and saw she was no longer sleeping with her Panda Bear, but instead with her Samsung Galaxy S3. So 21st century!

Still, when I suggested a sewing project she was all enthusiasm.  I had a few dress patterns left over from my crafty days, and she picked a nice simple wrap-sundress (Jiffy!  One piece! Lots of straight seams! ) We had a good time at Joann’s Fabric and Crafts picking out the fabric – she finally settled on a red gingham check with a contrasting red polka-dot calico.  The gingham check turned out to be very helpful as it provided lots of straight lines to sew along.

We pinned carefully and she was in charge of the cutting, making sure that all the “Cut on line of fabric” lined up perfectly with the gingham check.  She had a little difficulty at first with the sewing machine. (“It won’t go!  And then it goes too fast! It’s too loud!  I can’t do it!”)  There was a minor meltdown on the couch.

That night an invitation arrived – instead of staying with us through Saturday morning, she could go up on Friday to visit her uncle and aunt in San Francisco for an overnight.  Cool!  But we would have that much less time to finish the dress.  She looked at me, squared her jaw,  and said “So, no more freaking out?”

I nodded.

“OK.”

The next day she screwed up her courage, sat down at the machine, and just did it.  From then on, anything I showed her (fastening an end seam with a back stitch, ironing the ties, turning a corner, doing a hem, hand-sewing a facing) she observed, absorbed, and did.

Maybe it was lucky that I was the one to make the stupid mistakes (cutting along a fold that wasn’t supposed to be two pieces, sewing a pocket one check higher than its mate) and she was the one to correct them.  Certainly it was wonderful that when she wore the dress for the first time to the camp she was attending during her stay, her new friend at camp said “That’s a really cute dress!” and she was able to say “Thank you. I made it myself – with a little help from my Grandma.” So 19thcentury!

It was a great week for both of us.  My granddaughter cleaned up my smart phone and showed me some new tricks I could do with it.  She got us to Skype.  We ate her favorite food, took her to see Brave on the big screen, enjoyed the things she did in camp, and watched our favorite old movies on the small screen.  (So 20th century!)

But the best was The Dress.  19th century met 21st century, and everybody won.

Posted in Memoir, TOWN CRIER and tagged

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