On the Road in Arcola, Illinois!

Back in the tiny, little car (with great gas mileage, ok, I should be thankful) for a full day of travel in the midwest.  Wisconsin is a long state going north to south.  Illinois is even longer.  Adding to it’s longness is the fact that there is very little to break the monotony of the landscape . “Oh, there’s a field!  Oh, and there’s another field!  Oh, oh, there’s a barn!”  It continues like this for hundreds of miles in a mind dulling, flat way.  However, it is spring so at least it is green and the fields are planted.  In August when it’s hot and dusty and dried up you don’t even want to be there.

As evening rolled around I saw a sign for a Dutch Kitchen restaurant and thought the husband might enjoy stopping for dinner.  It was an Amish community of about 3,000 population, Arcola, Illinois.  I think a town has to have at least three Amish people to take advantage of the label “Amish community”.  Right away the husband is wondering if the reality show with the Amish mafia has done any filming there.  We left the interstate and drove into town where there were real brick streets and beautiful, big, old two story frame houses with shady lawns.  Main Street was where we found the Dutch Kitchen Restaurant and had our meal.

The husband decided to try out his Penn Dutch heritage on the waitress.  He asked for some dish in another language and got a blank, “deer in the headlights” look from the very young waitress who had no clue what he was saying.  Of course, this was an opportunity to educate, which he did fairly thoroughly.  She came back and asked if she could just bring him a dish of cottage cheese and he could put his own apple butter on it.  We repeated the lesson later when the owner came around to check on us.

But who would have guessed that we had landed in a place with such a claim to fame.  The pictures on the wall in the restaurant were full of the history of the town, including one from 1898 when a castle built entirely of broomstick corn was erected on the street right outside the restaurant (see pic of pic). They have a broomstick corn festival at the end of the summer.  And when I went outside to get some photos of the town I learned that the inventor of Raggedy Ann and Andy was born in Arcola.  They have a festival for the dolls every year (see pic below).  Two festivals for one town!  And there could be more for all I know.  The streets and buildings were classic old midwestern town and really quite interesting.

I’m just sayin’ it can be kind of fun to pull off the road and spend a few minutes in some small, unheralded place, on a whim.  Do it.

Yum, yum - the Dutch Kitchen.
Yum, yum – the Dutch Kitchen.
midwestern couch
midwestern couch
Broomstick corn castle. Who knew?
Broomstick corn castle. Who knew?
All who love Raggedy Ann and Andy - must go here.
All who love Raggedy Ann and Andy – must go here.
Brick streets and buildings like this.  A little town on the prairie...
Brick streets and buildings like this. A little town on the prairie…

A to Z Challenge: The Letter D

D is for Departure: Another Family Story

A friend of my daughter, a thirty something business associate, lost her mother last week. In an email to my daughter she said “go call your mother, now”, and that’s why I got a nice, long chat with my eldest girl. I couldn’t help but think how blessed I was, at 60 something, to have my mother and dad visiting me for the past month. I went and gave my mom a hug and a good chat as well.

And this morning in the dark I drove the parents to the airport and watched them depart to their flight. Departures. Whole lists of flights going to everywhere. I wanted to go with them because their carry-ons were really heavy and Dad’s shoulder isn’t good. I wanted to be there to help hold things, find things, zip the zippers, turn off the devices, settle them in. But sometimes departure means you don’t get to go. Then there’s that final glimpse as the tram doors close.  I have that fleeting thought “what if something happens and I never see them again?”.  No one else thinks morbid things like that, right?

Back at home I have to look at the places where they sat at the table, the closet where their clothes were hanging. I have to change the bedding and put the bedroom back the way it was before they came. The pain of missing them has it’s very vivid moments when I can’t avoid the fact that they’re gone.  It’s a little like rehearsing for the last, big departure we’re all going to experience, not that rehearsing will make it any less sad, or easier – but maybe more familiar. It’s ok to be sad. I’m giving myself permission to miss them, for a while.

Fortunately, departures are only half of what’s on the board at the airport. We get to have arrivals too! If the snow ever melts up north, the husband and I are planning a car trip to Wisconsin to help Mom plant her garden. We’ll take Dad to Walmart to walk the aisles for exercise. We’ll help clean the attic, play us some Mexican Train, look through old letters and work on the memoirs, probably have a picnic and cook hotdogs in my brother’s yard. We’ll enjoy being a family! I am already looking forward to it with anticipation! Now that I think about it, I’m might be rehearsing something there too…  Yep. Just sayin’.

A to Z Challenge: A is for Atlanta

this is not snow
this is not snow

There was something white on the trees, and on the ground in Atlanta this week – and it wasn’t snow, it was petals from the flowering dogwoods and other gorgeous trees.

this also is not snow
this also is not snow
Atlanta was wet, cloudy and lit with a subdued daylight that made the grass and trees fairly glow with green-ness. Rain makes Atlanta smell fresh and woodsy in spite of the thousands of cars emitting fumes on it’s frighteningly busy throughways. The parents and I were there this week for the graduation of a special niece who now holds a doctorate of chiropractic degree from Life University.wpid-20140328_123533.jpg Kudos for sticking it out girl, and creating another do-able family event for those of us within driving distance. 

We journeyed there by car on Thursday and met at the motel that evening.  Family breakfast on Friday morning sustained us through the graduation ceremony in the afternoon.  The after celebration at Darwin’s Burgers and Blues introduced me to the Memphis Burger. Who knew that putting bbq sauce and coleslaw on a burger would make it that good? Watching my brother and his family celebrate their eldest daughter’s accomplishment was a heartwarming family experience. Someone who not too long ago was a crazy kid is now an adult with a plan and a purpose.

Okay, and here is what really proved that to me.  Being in the “older” group of celebrants, I and the parents didn’t stay up for the 2 am (and later) partying but went back to our motel to prep for our early morning departure.  Elissa asked us what time we were getting up and when we were having breakfast before leaving town.  She wanted “family breakfast” again and said she would be there at 7:30 to have it with us. Mind you, I was not sure this could be accomplished… the girl is not typically a morning person and I wouldn’t really have blamed her for crashing in the wee hours.  Was she there?  WAS SHE THERE!

She was there!
She was there!

Yes, yes she was!. Family breakfast was eaten and a good time was had by all, even the sleepy ones.  Thank you Smiths for a meaningful, family memory of celebrating in Atlanta, beautiful Atlanta.

Speaking of Rubber Bands

I was speaking (writing) of rubber bands in my last post and this thought came to mind, Rainbow Looms.  Now for those of you who are not frequently in the company of children and may not know about Rainbow Looms, let me introduce you to a new craft/toy craze that is sweeping the WORLD.  It really starts with a very simple concept of stringing rubber bands of various colors and sizes together to make bracelets, etc… but goes on to some pretty complicated stuff.  The loom itself is a small plastic apparatus with multiple upright pegs.

I first heard of it when my cousin who has a young daughter started buying rubber bands in bulk to sell in her flea market business.  Honestly, I didn’t see the draw and kind of mentally passed it by.  Later at our Thanksgiving celebration her daughter and another young guest spent quite a bit of time making bracelets.  The other girl had been doing it for a while and was making some fairly complicated patterns – these girls were into it, seriously.

But I did not know the true power of Rainbow Loom craziness until we went to Cambodia.  The Rainbow Loom “people” had donated a number of looms and bags and bags of rubber bands for us to take with us as gifts for the children in the orphan homes.  There were a few extra so one day we gave some to the university students in the girls dorm.  The next day we found out that one girl had been up till 3 a.m. making bracelets and hair bands to give away as New Year’s gifts for her friends.  There is evidently no age limitation to the fascination.

Later we took the loom project to each of the orphan homes and our experts sat down on the floor to teach and demonstrate.  Hours later the madness was still continuing… They catch on quick.  Thank you Rainbow Loom for a really fun time.

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Expert Sarah giving demonstration
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Expert Nikki teaching boys.
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Five minutes later everyone was busy.
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This is fun and we are making pretty stuff!
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So maybe we don’t really need the loom after all….
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Just a few of the finished items.

Something I Don’t Get to Do Every Day

Checking out a rubber manufacturing plant in Cambodia (please tell me you haven’t done this…)

On a recent trip to Cambodia, our small group of foreigners got to tour a rubber plant in Kampong Cham province.  Not only was this something one doesn’t get to do every day, but we almost didn’t get to do it that day either.  There were union protests taking place in the capital city of Phnom Penh and the guards at our rubber factory thought we might be coming to incite a riot.  Fortunately our tour organizer was from that province and somehow knew the right things to say. We all paid $1 to get in. This was a very self-guided tour.  This was the full extent of our supervision as we roamed the premises at will.

I'm glad they told us.
I’m glad they told us.

Rubber tree sap is white and really quite beautiful.  It’s collected a little like maple sap used in making maple syrup.  There’s the hole in the tree trunk, a little spigot and a pail.  I’m not sure how they get the sap from the grove to the processing building but once there it’s put in long storage vats and a chemical is added. The sap solidifies. It looks a lot like cheese (mozarella).

the grove in background, (bananas in front)
the grove in background, (bananas in front)
Beautiful, white, rubber sap
Beautiful, white, rubber sap
Sap in vats
Sap in vats
Solidified rubber floats to next step
Solidified rubber floats to next step
Raw, solidified rubber
Raw, solidified rubber

The long flats of raw rubber go into a drying machine where they are chopped up and dried.  I’m actually making this all up because there was no one to tell us what was really happening but we got a pretty good idea just by the looks of things. These are the drying machines.

the dryers
the dryers

The rubber is not as attractive when it is dried – yellow/brown and dense.  It comes from the dryers, still on it’s conveyor belt and drops into a compressor where it’s made into blocks.

into the compressor
into the compressor
compressed block
compressed block
block of rubber on its way to....
block of rubber on its way to….
this guy with the knife who was very busy. I have no idea why he was doing this.
…this guy with the knife who was very busy. I have no idea why he was doing this.
we got samples of rubber to take home
we got samples of rubber to take home

The blocks of rubber are trucked out to other factories where they are made into various rubber things.  Rubber bands?  I don’t know.  This is where our tour ended.  There were about eight of these long open buildings but this was the only one that was in operation at the time.  It appeared to be off-season for rubber.  This is a very warm climate and the buildings are open, as I said, and didn’t have fans – only natural ventilation.  The workers were often shirtless, shoeless and definitely were not wearing hard hats or protective anything around the machinery.  Evidently there aren’t a lot of lawsuits in Cambodia.  We were free to walk around the machinery, through the plant, touching, poking and asking questions without interference.  It was really quite interesting.

What things are still made with real rubber? Do you know?

Back at Home

Cambodia, what a time it was! This time last week I was still on the other side of the world saying goodbye to everyone and now it feels like it was ages ago. I made so many new friends, strengthened bonds with others, wandered a bit out of my comfort zone and survived. I saw God doing the things he does best – changing people.

One of the joys of travel is getting to come home again, back to a life that seems familiar but altered and fresh in some weird way.  I love being home again.

It’s taking me forever to get all my photos of Cambodia in one place and organized.  I put an album up on facebook but didn’t have the heart to tell people that it was only half of the pictures that I had taken.  The rest have yet to be posted. One thing I did take time to put up was a new profile picture of me in my tuktuk riding garb.  I was told more than once that I looked like Audrey Hepburn (when all of her facial features and hair were covered up… right, striking resemblance.) We all rode around with masks because of the dust and because of the Stinky River, aka open sewer running along our street.  It’s a good look and I’m thinking of trying it here at home.

dressing for tuktuk ride
dressing for tuktuk ride

Back in my usual Florida life I’ve been cleaning house, washing clothes, grocery shopping, going to work AND buying a different car.  Different as opposed to new.  I am now a proud Mazda owner, zoom, zoom.  It was quite an ordeal and I’m going to write about it in a different post but for now I just want to say hi to the guy who  drew up the final papers, the one and only Jim Carey.  Not really, but he did look and act just like him and can you imagine what it would be like – in a movie, buying a car from Jim Carey? I just sat looking at him and not getting over the resemblance, which probably creeped him out a little but he deserved it.  He’s a car salesman.  He did say he wanted to check out my blog and we’ll see if he did the next time I’m in for an oil change.

Have you ever toured a rubber plant?  Well, I have (in Cambodia) and there are pictures to prove it.  Check back in a couple days and you will know all about it.  I’m just sayin’ it was pretty interesting in a third world kind of way…

Eat Here

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In Phnom Penh I stay near the Russian Market and there are a couple of walk to places that are my “comfort” stops. On the list this time was Alma Cafe, a truly Mexican cuisine where you would not
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be expecting to find it. There are two specials for lunch every day,  and they change daily and are also open for breakfast. Tuesday is their day to be closed. I loved everything I ate there.  Get some fresh squeezed limeade to drink. There are things there for gluten free and you can order an awesome veggie breakfast burrito.
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Having Very Little

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These children have just been to Phnom Penh Central Market for their semi-annual shopping experience. They bought $5 to $10 worth of shoes, jeans, or a school bag for each of them. Most of them had never had this experience until they came to Asia’s Hope orphan homes several years ago.

In Cambodia, these are not the children who have very little. These children have a home that is clean, house parents who love them, a school to attend, food to eat and clothes to wear. They have lots of reasons to hope – including knowledge of a God who has a plan for their lives.

Today our team from the U.S. joined with university students from a Cambodian church to visit a nearby slum area and interact with the children there. These children had very little clothing, some had none, there were no parents watching over them, they themsleves were coated with filth and grime and pestilence as were their surroundings. The garbage and stench was unrelenting, everywhere. They came running for the gifts being handed out… a piece of bread, a pencil, a ball. There was not enough for them all and chaos ensued. These are the ones who have very little. If only they could be taken out, one by one, washed with clean water and fed, and then put someplace a little cleaner, safer and friendlier to find hope. I’m just sayin’, we have a real problem here, a real evil to work against.

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Winter comes.

the cold season
the cold season

Hayward, Wisconsin is a place where it snows. The flakes were flying as we drove into town last Thursday for Thanksgiving.  The white blanket covered the ground and the fallen logs where we walked through the woods the next day.  Every gust of wind through the branches of the pines sent snow raining down all around us. At first, the cold was frightening but as I stayed out in it and worked up a sweat, I got used to it.  Now, four days past Thanksgiving, it is snowing again and this time it’s a storm big enough to deserve a name. Cleon.

Our trip into town proved the roads were icy with wet slush.  The sky is one solid, gray cloud that descends down to meet the horizon, cutting the visibility to about a quarter mile. Variations on muted gray, black and white with a little brown thrown in are the only colors nature has today. Things would seem dull if it weren’t for the colored lights and Christmas decorations up and down the streets. Hayward is a small town, a very small town, but it is the only real town in quite a large area of forests and lakes. And it is large enough to have a Walmart, which was a very busy place today.

I grew up here, in the country outside of Hayward.  I left and came back after I was married.  My children were born while I lived here and although I’ve been away again for more than twenty years it is still very homelike to me. My parents and my brother and his family still live in a development on the edge of town, on land that once belonged to my grandfather. We visited Hayward last June when it was all shades of green, brilliant blue skies, fields full of flowers, flowing rivers, and more than it’s share of the world’s mosquitoes. Now it is different.  It is white, very quiet, dark a good deal of the time, and there are no mosquitoes at all.

It is really quite magical to be able to stay in one place and have it change all around you. You would think you had been transported. I’m just sayin’ I am glad to be here for this first big snow of the year.

white on the road
white on the road
white in the woods
white in the woods

Here we go again…

???????????????Here we go again…

I am excited.  It is only hours before a season of travel begins, and instead of getting ready I’m sitting here writing about how I’m not ready.  Thoughts about traveling are fighting to get out of my head.

I am going to my first, original home to be with family and friends, celebrating Thanksgiving.  I love everyone I am going to be with. Even before that, I love talking to strangers in the airport and on the plane.  I love being free to watch what is going on around me and observe people.  There is such freedom in not having a job to do other than keeping bombs from being planted in my luggage. Almost every routine of my daily life is changed to something new.

Flight attendants bring me the beverage of my choice – this happens never at home.

I get to sit in/drive a nearly new car.

I can eat fast food without feeling guilty because it’s about the only choice.

And at my destination I have that unique position of half guest, half helper.  It allows me to work alongside others and see what is going on in their lives.  It means I can stay up late visiting if there’s an opportunity, or get up early and have that first cup of coffee with someone special.  It means I can probably take a nap if I’m tired, or take a couple hours off to write or read.  There’s time to think about living while I’m doing it.

And even while the excitement builds, there’s a conflict. I feel it every time.  I am a split personality when it comes to travel.  There is so much to like about being away, and yet I am as much a home body as anyone could be.  I love my home, the husband, the cats, the yard, the old car, the commitments, the friends, even the job (sort of) (don’t spread that around).  To be happy and involved in one place, you have to lose touch with where you’re not.  And even when I know I’m coming back, there is a bit of sadness in stepping away from the familiar.

Will the husband be able to find food in the refrigerator?

Will my strawberry plants die if we get a freeze?

Will my cat forgive me for being gone?

Will I come back to a mountainous pile of junk mail? Laundry?

Will I be the same person that I was?  Probably not.

I’m just sayin’, here we go again…