Hike

My thighs are sore. But I love it. Because they are complaining from the maybe 6 mile trek this morning on a trail in Half Moon Bay with a group from Sons in Retirement. For the first time in a long long time, I was the youngest person in a gathering. How cool is that? We went up the Purusima Trail and most of it was uphill. So though I have been diligently walking every weekend, the hike was tiring. I can't imagine what the rest of the team felt, especially those in their late '70s. Funny thing is only the last 1.9 miles were downhill and parts were a little treacherous because of the loose screes and you can easily slip. Especially with normal walking shoes instead of proper hiking boots. So you take baby steps and you dig your toes or heels in to get more grip.

But it was a beautiful trail, most of it very shady and cool, with the Purisima Creek gargling gently close by for most of the way. The secondary redwood trees were slim unlike those in Muir Woods or the Avenue of the Giants. At one stretch, I was walking next to Tom and he told me the original redwoods were all cut down, brought up to some peak and then floated down some river or other to Redwood City for lumber. And that was how that town got its name. Sunlight speckled the trails here and there and it was just very peaceful. Surprisingly, there were hardly any animals or birds. But lots of poison ivy or poison oak. Luckily they were not too close to the trail although there was one plant that actually grew out and hung partway over the trail. Like it was reaching out to us.

Only when we were more than half way through did we see a family of quails where the trail branches, I think with one going to Harkins Ridge which would be more uphill trekking. But we were going the other way. downhill, back to where we had parked the cars. And somewhere we ran into the mostly eaten carcase of a small deer. Only bits of skin, the tail and the rib cage were left.

We were the only non-Americans in the group but they were all very warm and welcoming. The stories they shared as we walked were of the old days, and I mean old. Where they went to school in the '50s and what they did in the '60s in their youths. Of restaurants and hamburger joints in San Francisco that have long gone. Most of them were long time or native Californians. We were young then in every sense of the word. But there was one Daphne who gave me a hug when we were still at the starting point because she went to UBC too even though she left after two years in 1959 to USC to study physical therapy. We were immediately bonded by that tenous thread.

It was interesting how Americans open up - pretty soon I was hearing about their families, the kids they had, the illnesses and deaths of spouses, times shared with grandkids... I don't think Asians air stories about their families in quite the same way. I was a stranger to them but pretty soon, I knew much more about Debbie's history than I would have cared to at the start of the trek. They like to hear about your children and will ask.

After the hike, a well deserved lunch at San Benito sandwich place along Main Street in Half Moon Bay. Good sandwiches on fresh bread baked daily by the small deli. Healthy and tasty.

On the way back in Tom's Lexus, I dozed off a little. That was how tired I was. I like Tom - he is very funny and seem to have taken a liking to the Man. While the man brought the half man for his tennis lesson, I took a nap, too tired to even bathe. That had to come later. Even the horrific mess in the bedrooms of the girl and boy could not keep me from laying down my weary body.

223rd

BBQ yesterday was very memorable. Tom and Thilma were great hosts and the company was thoroughly enjoyable. There were lots of laughter and Tom was a really good cook. Thilma's saffron rice too - the half man politely asked for and actually had a second large helping of the rice. He was well behaved - quiet and did not whine at all. But he still has not picked up the EQ skills of American kids, able to hold a conversation with adults. People have to tease replies out of him and you can see the Americans feeling a little awkward waiting for his replies, not quite sure whether to wait or to move on to another topic.

We split up about 8:30 pm because some wanted to go watch the fireworks. The half man and I trod on down to Central Park where we joined his classmate and her family. The fireworks are not all that incredible but the Park was filled with thousands of people - you wouldn't think San Ramon had that large a population. So ends our celebration of the 223rd birthday of the US of A.

Celebrations

Happy Independence Day, America! And the Man has brought out the American flag from the garage and hung it by the main door. Trifle small but hey, it works.

We'll be off to a bbq this evening and making some new friends (well, the half man and I will be at least). Hope we don't miss the fireworks.

Yeah Mon

Independence Day is here again. Seems not so long ago, we were sitting in Central Park shivering in the cold waiting for the fireworks, running now and then to listen to the live entertainment and buy some food.

This year, perhaps a reflection of the economic conditions, there will be no live music and no food sales. Families are encouraged to bring their picnic goodies - which many do every year in any case. But we won't be there this year. One of the Man's friends from his retired sons club has invited us to a bbq at his home. It should be interesting. Never been invited to an American home before...

I never finished the Jamaican story. The last full day of our visit. We set off for Negril, to see it in the daytime. On the way, we stopped at one of those crowded local markets - some crazy ideas about getting some local foods or something like that or maybe to take in the local scene. The markets are not much different from the wet markets in Singapore, only dirtier and more crowded. There are inspectors apparently - the reason why we were able to get away relatively unharmed and with some dignity at the end. Anyway, entering the market, the first few stalls were selling fish. Normally, the fish stalls are quite appalling. Mostly, the vendors have just buckets or baskets of fish with no ice, strewn about and flies buzzing all over them. The scenes were always the same in all the local markets we have driven by. But the Man started talking to the vendor and before you can say Yeah Mon, the guy was asking if we wanted lobsters and had brought out a bucket with some large lobsters in it. The lobsters were all still alive and didn't look so bad. I was alarmed - surely we are not actually going to buy live lobsters? How are we going to cook them? Plus I did not like the looks of the fella and our presence had attracted the attention of a bunch of other vendors nearby. Soon all the men were engaged in the act of selling us the lobsters. To my utter amazement, the price was negotiated for 4, yes 4 lobsters, including cooking, and soon we were traipsing back and forth following the vendor and his friend to the side of the market that sold dry goods. They led us to a back lane and wanted us to follow them into a kitchen where they were going to cook the lobsters for us. The situation was getting a little out of control - we surely had no intention of going into someone's home where we could be in a very awkward position, unable to retract and and and...

So we stayed in the market, declining to go further. Then the taller of the two wanted us to pay for cooking the lobsters. That was when the Man decided to pull out of the deal. We were being held to ransom and the situation was getting uncomfortable. There was a lot of talking back and forth with the vendor's friends who had been cajoling us to buy the lobsters, now jeering at us for expecting them to cook for free. Finally, the Man was able to extracate us by just paying for the uncooked lobsters and we all walked out of the market with the Man carrying four lobsters in a paper carton. What a relief to get out of the market! The lobsters went into the boot where I was sure they were going to be baked alive by the searing tropical heat.

Not too far out of the town, we spotted one of those roadside stalls that sell jerks. To cut a long story short, the guy who ran the stall agreed to cook the lobsters for us. What started out as a scary experience now turned into a most pleasant one. By a stroke of luck, we had stopped at the booth of a former restaurant cook who not only (with the help of a relative), cleaned out the lobsters very thoroughly but did a fabulous job of barbequeing the lobsters with garlic. He was very pleasant to chat with, and told me we paid a very good price for the lobsters and that they were very fresh. While waiting, we sat at the porch of his little house and chatted with a school boy of Ryan's age who came by and started a conversation. He was meeting a classmate (who came in a bicycle and stayed as well) so they could go to the library to study for their exams next week. The conversations lasted for the whole time we were waiting for the lobsters to be cleaned and cooked. And it was funny to see the three 14-year olds trying to converse in Spanish and testing each other's command of the language on Doris' suggestion.

So we ended up feasting on the lobsters outdoor standing by the stall, washing the food down with drinks bought from our very polite cook. He was happy with our custom and we were delighted with the whole experience. But not before the school boy returned with his friend and cajoled Doris into buying them both a soda each.

So off to Negril where we didn't do anything except bought some sort of buns and fast food chicken nuggets and had coffee in a roadside cafe when it started raining. Chatted some with a very talkative fella at the cafe and then drove back to Montego Bay. On the way back, we stopped at our cook's rodaside stall and bought chicken jerks and a tin foiled wrapped fish to bring back for dinner. He was very happy to see us and of course, with our added custom. As we left, it was obvious he too felt the day had been a good one for him. There was a kind of kindred spirit between us.

And back at the hotel later, as we tore into our simple dinner, the chicken jerk and fish were, needless to say, excellent. So ended our last full day on the sunny island of Jamaica.