Baseball Fun in St Paul

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Last year the St Paul Saints minor league baseball team of St Paul, Minnesota, moved to downtown, St Paul, and a brand new stadium. Since it is a block from my home I was invited on a tour.

The stadium was built to AA standards but is much smaller than the Twins major league stadium in Minneapolis. It is intimate and there isn’t a bad seat in the place. There are plenty of bathrooms which is a welcome change compared to the old stadium.

Bill Murray is part owner of the team. His role is listed on their website as “Team Psychologist” and his duties include morale boosting and train spotting. He has been involved in the team since opening night 1993 when he was stationed at the entrance taking tickets and threw out the first pitch. He is kind of an urban legend. Everybody is sure they will see Bill Murray at the game.

Back in the 1800’s the area now known as St Paul was called Pig’s Eye Landing after French Canadian fur trader and bootlegger Pierre “Pig’s Eye” Parrant’s popular tavern. The Minnesota territory was formed in 1849 and the soldiers at Fort Snelling evicted Pig’s Eye. Father Lucien Galtier, a French priest, renamed the settlement St Paul after Paul the Apostle.

The St Paul Saints have a mascot that honors Pig’s Eye. It is a live trained pig that takes balls to the umpire between innings and is named via a fan contest every year. This year the pig’s name is Little Red Porkette in honor of Prince and it is dressed in purple. A portion of the street directly in front of the stadium has recently been named Prince Street.

Each year a new piglet weighing in at about 20 lbs. is introduced and by the end of the season the pig goes into retirement at over 200 lbs. They also have a bright pink two-legged mascot called Mudonna T Pig along with several other ‘entertainers’.

The team’s locker room is comfortable and spacious. The guide took us down to the field so we could see the dugout and the small concrete area for the pig. She also pointed out Bill Murray’s yellow spray painted signature just behind home base. She said he was such a perfectionist he wanted to do it over but they wouldn’t let him.

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Bill Murray’s signature behind home base

It is one of the greenest stadiums in the country with solar panels and mechanisms to capture and reuse rainwater. Because of the recycled water, the city of St Paul insists they put up signs in the bathrooms saying ‘Do not drink from the toilet’.

The stadium was built on the site of the old Gillette factory. The foundation and several walls from that building are being reused in the current structure. The guide said about half of the materials used to build the stadium were either salvaged or recycled.

Last night I went to see the St Paul Saints vs. Winnipeg Goldeyes so we started out listening to the Canadian national anthem along with the Stars and Stripes. The game had a slow start but by the end we were all biting our nails as they tied it up at 10-10 in the 9th inning and the Saints finally won it in the 10th inning 12 to 11 on a wild pitch. I think both teams went through at least six pitchers.

Saints games are unpredictable and fun. It was the thirtieth anniversary of the movie Top Gun so there was entertainment throughout the game around that theme in the form of quizzes, competitions and running commentary. Each game has a theme. One game I went to had a Grateful Dead theme and all the players were wearing tie-dyed uniforms.

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Grateful Dead tie-dyed uniforms

Little Red Porkette would trot out on a leash between innings carrying fresh balls in its saddlebags to the umpire. The umpire would feed the pig something in a baby bottle and chat with the pig’s trainer. One time the pig had Kermit the Frog riding along on its back and another time it had Mr. M&M.

During the 7th inning stretch we all got up and sang Take Me Out To The Ballgame and bags on peanuts came showering down on us from the press box above. This was followed by lively polka music. It gave me my second wind.

The food was good, the beer was good, the company was good and it was a great night. Go if you get the chance!

 

 

Windmills, Pipes and Petroglyphs – PART THREE

PART THREE – JEFFERS PETROGLYPHS

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Jeffers Petroglyphs is a Minnesota Historical Site about one and a half hours east of Pipestone. The rock here is also Sioux Quartzite and the area is called Red Rock Ridge which is about 250 yards wide and up to 50 feet high. It is part of a ridge that extends 23 miles across Cottonwood County.

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As we approach the Visitor Center we are welcomed by a sign that says “Landscaped by Mother Earth”. The area is 160 acres of prairie, 33 acres are native and 127 were reconstructed. The Prairie Bush Clover is a federally-designated threatened species that thrives at the site. There are about 300 species of prairie plants. Our guide pulled up some wild garlic and mint for us to smell. Really lovely.

On the rock face there are over 5,000 carvings, some as old as 7,000 years. It is a spiritual place where Native Americans came, and still come, to offer prayers and honor Grandmother Earth. It is still used for prayers and religious ceremonies throughout the year.

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The earliest carvings show bison and atlatls. The atlatls were something that helped spear or dart throwers by giving the dart leverage to send it farther. These would have been long before the bow and arrow became common 1,200 years ago. At the Visitor Center you can try your hand at throwing an atlatl at a target. We watched as several people struggled and nobody came close to the target.

The Center offers tours at 10:30 am, 11:30 am, 1, 2, 3, and 4 PM. We made it in time for the 1 pm. It was over 90 degrees and not a piece of shade in sight. The guide pointed out eight different sections of rock highlighting the drawings from different eras. We started with the bison 7,000 years ago and worked our way up to more recent ones from 250 years ago.

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In order for us to be able to see the drawings the guide sprayed water on the area she was highlighting. It was so bright and they are so faint they were hard to see otherwise. We saw thunderbirds, turtles, stick figures of people doing various things including dancing, other animals such as deer and moose. We also saw fossilized sand ripples that became rock 1.6 million years ago and scars left by the glacier that passed through 14,000 years ago. It is hard to imagine how old that is.

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In 1966 the Minnesota Historical Society purchased the area from Mr. Jeffers in order to protect the sacred site. They are studying the drawings and dating them and provide very interesting and informative tours. They work with elders and members of the Dakota, Ioway, Cheyenne and Ojibwe tribes to help them understand the drawings and the spiritual significance of the place.

A 1.2 mile trail winds through the prairie at the back of the rock so we worked our way back to the Visitor Center on this uneven path. It was so hot and humid I was not sure I was going to make it but we forged through and it really was beautiful with wild flowers and purple clover dotting the landscape.

Back at the Center after drinking copious amounts of water, we wandered through the small gift shop and I even bought a t-shirt. They had some nice ones.

It was great fun driving the small roads in south Minnesota. We passed through Florence, Delhi, and Darfur. We were seeing the world. We started to see more lakes as we turned north and one that really caught our eye was a large and beautiful lake called Lake Elysian. In Greek mythology, Elysian is the final resting place of the souls of the virtuous and heroic. Somehow it was the perfect ending to our trip.

 

Windmills, Pipes and Petroglyphs – PART TWO

PART TWO – Pipestone National Monument

Pipestone

Pipestone National Monument was created by an act of Congress in 1937 on 300 acres just outside the city of Pipestone, in southwestern Minnesota. Its main purpose is to preserve the pipestone quarries unique to the area. It is a sacred area to Native Americans and is home to spiritual and cultural activities throughout the year. Our first stop was at the site of the Three Maidens, considered to be the guardian spirits of the pipestone quarries. They are very different from other rock in the area. They are granite and came from far away, deposited by the glacier when it melted thousands of years ago.

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The Three Maidens

We arrived at the visitor center soon after it opened and were in time to see the beginning of a 20 minute film about the site. The color red is sacred to the Native Americans and the red stone found at Pipestone has been quarried for over 2,000 years. This was the preferred location for the Plains tribes to quarry the stone since it is of a high quality. All tribes, even enemies, would work here in peace. The pipes made from this stone were used to mark rituals, ceremonies, prepare for war and trade agreements. The smoke from the pipes is thought to carry prayers up to the spirits.

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Native Americans in this area did not originally have tobacco so they would smoke something called Kinnikinnick which means “that which is mixed”. It is still in use and available today. It is a mixture of herbs often unique to the pipe owner. It can contain red willow bark, bearberry leaves, dogwood, sumac and tobacco among others.

You could tell this was a spiritual place from all the colored cloth prayers tied to trees along the path. A three-quarter mile Circle Path takes you through the area around active quarries, a quartzite cliff, native grassland and Winnewissa Falls. If you follow the creek from the waterfall you will see Lake Hiawatha, home to many turtles. Unfortunately we didn’t see any.

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Today only Native Americans of federally-recognized tribes can get a permit to quarry at Pipestone and there are currently only about 30 to 40 permits issued. The majority of the people who quarry here come from the Dakotas, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Nebraska and other central areas of the US.

All the work is done by hand. The particular pipestone found at this location is known as catlinite. It is found in veins inside the Sioux Quartzite rock predominant in the area. The rock is one of the hardest on earth. In order to get to the pipestone it is necessary to work your way through the Sioux Quartzite with hammer and chisel until you reach a pipestone vein. This can take weeks. The pipestone is sandwiched in-between the quartzite and can be10-15 feet down into the rock.

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It had just rained so many of the quarries were flooded.

Another interesting thing about the 300 acre monument is the tall grass prairie covering it. It is native prairie that has never been plowed. Less than 1% of the prairie that once covered 200 million acres of North America exists today and some of it is here. It contains over 70 types of grasses and hundreds of plants and wildflowers. The Minnesota DNR Scientific and Natural Areas Program and The Nature Conservancy have established programs to protect and expand the native prairie.

There is a small museum with artifacts, carvings and tools on display at the Visitor Center. The Pipestone Indian Shrine Association has a small shop within the Visitor Center. They are a non-profit cooperating association established in 1955 to preserve the art of pipemaking and help with the programs at Pipestone National Monument. There are a couple of stations where you can watch artisans at work. If you are interested in history, art, nature – this is a great place to spend an afternoon.

As we were leaving we saw a man pushing a wheelbarrow full of tools and a large cooler accompanied by his two children make his way down the path to his quarry. We agreed it was a good thing he had a large cooler since it was going to be a very hot day.

From there we headed to Jeffers Petroglyphs, about an hour and a half away. Stay tuned for part three!

A Weekend in Southwest Minnesota – Windmills, Pipes and Petroglyphs

PART ONE

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Friday after work we took off for Pipestone, Minnesota. It is about three and a half hours southeast of the Twin Cities, almost to the South Dakota border. We were going to the Pipestone National Monument and the Jeffers Petroglyphs. Of course there were lots of other interesting things along the way.

As we entered Pipestone County we were met with a wind turbine farm we could not believe. According to the American Wind Energy Association, Minnesota ranks 7th in the country for installed wind capacity and 6th for the number of turbines. (Texas is first, Iowa is second and California is third in wind capacity rankings.) In 2015, 17% of the electricity in Minnesota came from wind. This translates into 896,000 homes powered by wind.

In 2007 the Governor of Minnesota, Tim Pawlenty, signed a law that required the state to produce 25% of its electricity from renewable energy by the year 2025. That same year Xcel, the largest utility in the state, was required to derive 30% of its sales from renewable energy by the year 2020. Wind power creates no emissions and uses virtually no water which in turn provides additional benefits by saving 2.8 billion gallons of water a year and reducing C02 emissions by 4.9 million metric tons or the equivalent of 1 million cars.

It turns out there are about 2250 wind turbines in Minnesota. Most of them are in the south and southwest area of the state and over 200 of them are in Pipestone County, 446 square miles. Each unit takes up about one-third of an acres and the land is leased from local farmers who receive a percentage of the revenue from the sale of electricity.

Each turbine costs over $2.5 million and produces enough energy to power up to 500 typical homes per year. The turbines are 229 ft. tall with 136 ft. blades. The base is 15 ft. in diameter and runs 30 ft. into the ground. Each one weighs about 1450 tons. The blades will start turning with a wind speed of about 8 mph. When the wind reaches 25-35 mph, the blades can rotate up to 14 rpm which gives them a speed of about 105 mph at the tip. If there is no wind or too much wind, the turbine will shut down.

Clean renewable energy and beautiful to look at too.

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Our first stop was the Calumet Inn on Main Street in the center of the Historical District of Pipestone. The town of Pipestone was not settled by the Europeans until 1876. French traders and explorers like Lewis and Clark and George Catlin had been through the area in the early 1800’s but settlers considered it Indian Territory and stayed away. In 1878 the railroad was built and the first train came through in 1879. By 1890 Pipestone was the hub for trains in southwest Minnesota with 5 lines passing through it carrying both passengers and freight. Twenty trains were arriving each day.

It was decided that a grand hotel was needed to accommodate all these people coming in on the trains. The Calumet Inn was originally built in 1887. The primary building stone was Sioux Quartzite quarried at Pipestone and the darker trim came from quarries at nearby Jasper. As the automobile became more popular business declined and the Inn was closed in 1978 due to unsafe conditions. After a complete restoration it re-opened in 1981. It is still a busy hotel today with clean rooms and excellent service. It could use a facelift but we had a pleasant stay.

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Pipestone hosts a paranormal weekend every year and in 2016 it will be October 14-16. It includes a candlelight tour of the Calumet Inn. We didn’t see any ghosts, but you never know.

After dinner we took a walk down Main Street. It was pretty much deserted. Across the street was the Pipestone Center for Performing Arts. There were ads all over town for the Mary Poppins play showing there during the month of June. On the corner of Main and Hiawatha was a building with gargoyles carved in sandstone and applied to the Sioux Quartzite. A small red car full of boys and music blaring drove down the street. Twice. It was Friday night, after all.

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The next morning we got up early and headed out to the Pipestone National Monument. On the way we stopped at Lange’s Café for breakfast. It is rated number one on Trip Advisor and everybody raves about the caramel rolls. We can confirm the caramel rolls are delicious. They just ooze with gooeyness. The eggs and hash browns were good too.

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Stay tuned for part two – Pipestone National Monument.

Indian Boarding School to Green University

Last weekend I drove up to Morris, Minnesota, population 5,000, which is about a three hour drive north of the Twin Cities.

On the way we stopped in Glenwood for a DQ ice cream and spent a few moments enjoying the view of Lake Minnewaska. It was a beautiful day and the lake was inviting. That night we dined at the Bella Cucina in downtown Morris.

It has an extensive menu and very good food. We enjoyed artichoke dip with grilled ciabatta as an appetizer and then dug into such things as lasagna, Tuscan rigatoni with goat cheese, lobster mac and cheese, penne Corsica with shrimp and artichokes, and chicken scallopini. All were delicious although probably too much because we were all stuffed.

We couldn’t find a bed for the night in Morris due to some track meet so we had to drive another half hour to Benson. Benson is a town of about 3,000 people, how hard could it be to find our hotel? We got lost, drove all the way through town, turned around, got out the phones and finally found our hotel. By this time we were ready for a nightcap. We headed to the bar attached to the hotel. It was packed, not a free seat in the place, and the DJ was a maniac with loud, loud music. It was time for bed instead. DonsCafe-300x300[1]

The next morning we headed back to Morris and Don’s Café for breakfast. Don’s has been around since the 1940s and serves good homemade slow cooked food. The bread is made on site every morning. On the wall above us was a plaque presented by the local CBS affiliate to Don’s for having the best grilled cheese sandwiches in Minnesota. We decided it must be the bread.

Morris’ main claim to fame is the University of Minnesota – Morris which was founded in 1960 as a public liberal arts institution. About 1,900 students enroll each year. The campus is on 130 acres and is part of the state university system. In the Liberal Arts College category, Morris ranks in the top 20 along with three other Minnesota colleges, Carlton, Augsburg and Macalester as LGBTQ friendly campuses. Morris has a long standing commitment to fostering diversity, intercultural competence and environmental stewardship. The campus is a national leader in green initiatives and on its way to becoming carbon neutral.

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Five Days in Malibu

Two years ago five friends and I rented a villa on Lake Como in Italy. We had all been to a reunion at our boarding school in Switzerland and were ready for some down time. Sitting on our porch we were soothed by the waves lapping onto the beach and an awe inspiring view. We were all transformed in one way or another after that trip. The beauty of the place, the calm atmosphere and the joy of sharing time with old friends inspired us all.

We would have loved to do it again but finances did not allow another trip to Europe so soon. Instead we decided to share a house on the west coast and coordinate it with a school party at a friend’s house. I found a three bedroom house in the Malibu Colony right on the beach. This time the waves were crashing onto the beach below us. We spent five days mostly mesmerized by the Pacific Ocean. We talked, we ate, we drank, we relaxed. It was sunny and peaceful.

Frederick Rindge, founder of Pacific Life insurance and vice-president of Union Oil Company, purchased the 13,300 acre Spanish land grant Rancho Topanga Malibu Sequit in 1892. In 1929, his widow, May Rindge, was forced to start selling the property in lots. One of the first to go was the Malibu Colony. It is located just off the Pacific Coast Highway about an hour north of the Los Angeles airport. Today it is a gated community with multimillion dollar homes right on the beach. We were lucky enough to enjoy five days there. –

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My Year in South America

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When I was 15, my family moved to Bogota, Colombia. That first summer my parents and I took a trip to the coast by car. My father was a beach fanatic and somebody in his office told him he would find the most beautiful pristine beaches imaginable at the coastal village of Tolu. Since he had to go to Cartagena on business anyway, he decided to make a trip of it and stop in Tolu and the resort town of Santa Marta as well. The trip was almost entirely through the Andes Mountains with hair-raising drop offs on the side of the road. We stopped for a couple of days in Medellín, a city that was later known for its drug cartel. At the time, it was a small city nestled in the mountains with a lot of old churches. My mother had a thing about Catholic churches. If there was a church anywhere nearby, we had to go see it. It wasn’t a religious thing; it was a tourist thing. She wanted to see the architecture, the windows, and the statues. It used to really embarrass me to have to go into all these churches where people were praying just so we could snoop around. That was my teenaged view of it anyway.

San Ignacio, Medillin

San Ignacio, Medillin

The morning we left Medellín, we stopped in a small corner restaurant for breakfast. All we wanted was some orange juice, coffee and rolls. I spoke Spanish fluently with no accent. My father spoke Spanish fluently but with an accent. We went up to the counter and I asked for three orange juices – jugo de naranja. Blank stares answered my simple request. I could not make them understand what I was saying. I had to resort to pointing and acting in order to get three orange juices. We decided that they saw so few foreigners they just assumed we did not speak Spanish and could not process the fact that we did.

On the way down from the mountains, we had to follow a riverbed where much of the road had been washed away by flooding. There were cliffs going up on either side, with the river in the middle, and the road was to one side of the river. Where the road was washed out, there was no place else to go but in the river or hug the cliff. Fortunately there was almost no traffic and we were able to manage it, although we all had white knuckles by the time we passed through the mountains.

As we got to the coastal flatlands we started looking out for the road to Tolu. We were all very excited. The road turned out to be a narrow rutted lane with overgrown vegetation on either side. We said, no problem, this was good, it meant it was unspoiled by the overuse of tourists. The village of Tolu was small. There was a small square in the middle of town but the main road was just past the center and ran along the ocean on the beach. Yes, the beach had become a road with buses barreling down it at high speeds. There were no swimmers or sunbathers – they would have died from the exhaust fumes first and a car accident second. Since it was late in the day, we realized we had to stay the night, so we found a small hotel on the beach that looked passable. We were shown to a “suite” that had two rooms and five beds and a huge bathroom that only had cold water and a millions cockroaches. My father got up several times during the night to spray his mattress for bugs. We left early the next morning. When we got back to Bogota my father told the person who had recommended Tolu all about our experience. Of course, the person had never actually been there. So much for pristine beaches.

From Tolu we drove to Cartagena, the old Spanish outpost. There was a fort on the hill that had tunnels going down to the water. Niches were cut into the tunnel for soldiers to stand with their rifles and shoot people as they ran down the dark and claustrophobic tunnels. It all made me very uncomfortable. Cartagena was often visited by pirates as well as by Spanish ships. Under the water was a heavy chain strung across part of the bay to keep the boats from entering. Those who didn’t know about the fence, sank. Cartagena itself was a beautiful colonial town.

Our next stop was Barranquilla, another big port and more of a vibrant busy bustling city, and our final stop was Santa Marta, a small resort town. Luckily we flew home from Santa Marta so we didn’t have to repeat the treacherous drive.

Monserrate

Monserrate

Bogota was 8,600 feet above sea level in the Andes Mountains. Lush and cool, it rained almost every day for a short while. It is nestled right against the mountains and above the city at 10,341 feet is the mountain Monserrate where a small church was built in the 17th century. Now there is a funicular that takes people up there and the view is amazing. One of the biggest tourist attractions is the Gold Museum. Its mission statement states: The mission of the Gold Museum of the Banco de la República is to preserve, research, catalogue and exhibit its archaeological collections in goldwork, ceramics, lithics and other materials as the cultural heritage of present and future generations of Colombian citizens, to strengthen the cultural identity of Colombians through enjoyment, learning and inspiration. It is definitely worth a visit.

Musica Raft, Gold Museum

Musica Raft, Gold Museum

On the weekends sometimes, we would drive down to the hot country and stay at fincas. They could be working farms or just small “summer” houses where people went to relax and get out of the city. We stayed in one that had bungalows around the compound and a big house at the center. We all gathered in the big house for meals and ate at long tables. The landscape was tropical and kind of rugged. There wasn’t much to do but eat, sleep and take walks. On the way home, we would stop in a small village and buy rolls made from cassava flour that were filled with cheese.

Growing up as a Third Culture Kid, or TCK, meant constantly adapting and adjusting to new places and new people. After a while I became a chameleon, able to blend in to any background. I learned to hone my power of observation and I would spend the first few weeks in a new environment reserved and quiet, watching everybody else. Then once I built confidence, I would break out like a phoenix, and my new persona would emerge, reinvented for my current surroundings. One of the hardest things about growing up the way I did was saying goodbye. Constantly having to leave friends behind or see them leave did take a toll and as I grew older I became more discriminating about who I opened up to and became close to. In spite of that, I looked forward to new places. It was an adventure, a challenge.

The Hat

The Hat

My uniform that year was a ruana (a wool cape) and a hat that was very common among the people who lived in the mountains (a man’s stiff felt hat). I also had a swell pair of suede lace-up boots and I wore rings on every finger. I had long hair and long sharp nails and when I first arrived at school people thought I was some kind of witch. I loved it there. The people were either Colombian or, for the most part, expat kids who had grown up overseas. Everybody was mellow and easy going.

I went to the American school in Bogota. During study hall, we would go to the recreation room and have really superior games of table tennis. At lunch, we would walk to the other end of the football field to eat our sandwiches. I ate peanut butter and jelly on toast every single day for a year. Some people would bring chessboards and we would gather around and watch them play.

My best friend lived near a small shopping center and park area called El Lago where a lot of the “street people” hung out. These were the Colombian hippies and the American drifters who gathered to generally laze around and look for action. People would play frisbee and talk and eat and gather information on parties. We would go there and hang out and try to be “cool”.

One day it was raining (as usual) and I was standing under an archway listening to a Jesus freak proselytize and a guy appeared who had long black hair, a beret, lavender tie-dye shirt, lavender pants, and belt, with bells on his black leather boots. He walked right up to the Jesus freak, took off his hat and in a large swooping movement bowed to him and said “And I am the Devil”. This infuriated the Jesus freak and set him off on a long tirade, which was completely ignored. The “Devil” came up to me and asked me for a light and introduced himself as Giovanni. He was a wonderful character who loved to talk non-stop and tell stories of his escapades under the influence of magical mushrooms.

A few weeks later, Giovanni arrived dressed in a three-piece suit. I almost didn’t recognize him and when questioned he told me his grandmother had died. He had started his day with a large magical mushroom omelet and then set off for his grandmother’s funeral. He went to the church all dressed up, greeted all his relatives and joined the procession to pass by and view the open casket. As he reached the casket, the mushrooms must have kicked in, because he swore to us that his grandmother moved, at which point he had apparently created a scene and was asked to leave.

Giovanni had dreams of moving to Miami to be a hairdresser or a model. When he suddenly disappeared, I wondered if he had actually made it to Miami. A few months later, I ran into his sidekick, Fernando. I had to drag it out of him but he finally told me that Giovanni had been down in the Amazon playing “witch doctor”. He was expected back soon so I told Fernando to pass a message to him to come by because I wanted to see him.

He showed up one afternoon dressed again in the three-piece suit and all his beautiful long hair cut off. I asked him who had died this time and he was furious. Fernando apparently was supposed to have rescued all of Giovanni’s clothes from his mother’s house but didn’t get there in time, and his mother had thrown out all his lavender tie-dyes. It was obvious that at his age, he was expected to get a serious job and be respectable. It was the last time I saw him and I like to believe he really did become a real doctor but for all I know, he is still in the jungle playing witch doctor.

People from the States or England or Venezuela would drift in and out of El Lago. One fellow from England wore only green and we called him Limey. There was an African guy who had lived there for a long time with a Colombian woman. He was famous all around town and known just as “Blackie”.

I want to say those were more innocent times, but maybe I was just lucky and never got into anything I couldn’t handle. I cried all the way to Miami when we moved. I wasn’t ready to leave; a year just wasn’t long enough. Now not only was I moving to a new place with new people but I would have to adjust to a whole new continent and culture plus I was going back to boarding school.

Sometimes people think TCKs are whiney. We grew up in exotic places and had all kinds of interesting experiences. And most people think children are very adaptable and resilient. So the combination of new adventures and the ability to constantly adapt to them must be fabulous, no? Sometimes I think it seems that children are super adaptable because they are better at playing make believe than grown ups are. Sometimes I think that is why it is so hard for TCKs to grow up. They get too good at playing make believe.

Within months I was at a new school reinventing myself once again.