Leap Year Day 2024

 Today, Leap Year day, is often mistakenly thought of as Sadie Hawkin's Day, which actually is in November.

Sadie was a character in Al Capp's  comic strip L'il Abner, who enlarged upon the idea of women asking men for marriage.

From Wikipedia:  Inspired by Capp's satiric race in which eligible women chase down terrified bachelors for the purposes of wedlock, the event reverses the cultural norms of men as the romantic pursuers. Arthur Berger says that the day "represents a fertility rite and awakens an awareness of the relationship between men and women."

  

But according to Irish folklore, the tradition of women taking the initiative came about when St. Briged of Kildare complained to St. Patrick that women had to wait too long for men to propose.   St. Patrick then decreed that women could propose on Leap Year Day.

And from there the tradition traveled the world.

I was thinking about Sadie Hawkins and Leap Year  today, despite the mix up in dates, and recalled a story I'd written some years ago about a Sadie Hawkins Day dance I went to with my date.

The story is called Jimmy Loved Me when We were Seven.   Jimmy doesn't figure into this story but another boy does.

Here's that excerpt:

When I was in eighth grade at the old Central Junior High School on Sixth Avenue in Anchorage, we had a Sadie Hawkins Day dance.  The tradition was that girls asked boys for dates to this dance.

 

I asked a boy whose name, more than sixty years later,  I can’t remember  and I suspect that has a lot to do with the embarrassment I inflicted on him all due to the corsage my mother fixed up for him.   It was a small paper plate with two artificial sunny-side-up eggs and a fake rasher of bacon, all decorated with ribbon.

 

The boy and I “danced” once, then retreated to opposite sides of the gymnasium and became one with the walls. He ditched the corsage rather early after the eggs fell off, and avoided me afterward.   He did, however, have the courtesy to show me the broken corsage.

The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Thirty-Five

 

Chapter Thirty-Five

Keeping My Foot on the Gas

 

My RAM (random access memory)

gets more random with every passing year.

—Gullible Original

 

 

  

Somewhere along the way, I acquire a sandwich wrapped in foil inside a white, plastic grocery bag.   I have no recollection of this sandwich and can’t tell what it is.   The time when the photo was taken is during the American Airlines flight, so either it was served or I bought it en route.

There is another possibility.  I might have purchased it in the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport before getting on my flight to Seattle, because I have another sandwich, too, that I bought along the way, but I have absolutely no memory of landing in D-FTW and changing planes there.   None.  I must have really been out of it.

 

Anyway, I got to Seattle, debarked, and took a hotel courtesty van to the hotel.

This bench where people wait for the hotel courtesy vans its HEATED 

Flowers outside the Coast Gateway hotel in Seattle.   Looks like impatiens and Dusty Miller.

 

My hotel, Coast Gateway, in Seattle, has a wonderful restaurant called Sharps that is right in the hotel parking lot.  They offer delicious pulled pork sandwiches and fries, and I have purchased them several times.   But, they are huge and I usually can’t finish them. 

 

 

There is also the price.   The sandwich itself is a fair price but the add-ons make it spendy.   Last year my  $16.50 pulled pork sandwich had these add-ons:  $0.82 to-go charge, $0.82 cook’s commission (like a tip to the kitchen), $1.82 sales tax, $3.30 tip, for a grand total of $23.26.    I paid with a VISA card and I’m surprised they didn’t charge extra for that.

 

This is not meant to dis Sharps.   It is a great restaurant.   But, I cannot eat the whole thing.  I have made two or three meals from it in the past.   When you consider that, the price is more than fair.

 

This year, still not feeling well and having little appetite, I picked up a boxed sandwich in some airport that cost around eight or nine dollars.  I made two meals out of it.

 

And my handy little folding scissors came to the rescue again to open the mayo package.

 

 

I went to bed in the late afternoon and slept until the next morning.   That went a long way in recovering from any jet lag.  

 

Raining in Seattle the next day when I boarded Alaska Airlines.   I always feel like I’m almost home when I reach this point in a trip.

This is what the luggage claim area in the Anchorage international airport looks like.   I have never seen this in any other airport.   There's always a gigantic scrum of people moving in  front of other people to wait for their luggage.

In Anchorage, everyone stands back three feet from the carousel.   That gives all a chance to spot their bag, and the owner steps forward to lift it off the carousel.

 

Everything went well.   I took a cab to the place where I left my truck.

 

AND THAT’S WHEN THE TROUBLE BEGAN!!!

 

My truck would not start.  The cabbie gave me a jump, which cost $20.

 

After the cab left, the truck died and wouldn’t start.   I called the cab company and another driver showed up and jumped the truck for $25.   Why the difference?   Because the first driver was right there and didn't have to travel.

I kept my foot on the accelerator to make sure it wouldn't die.   He kept telling me to let it up, but I didn't and I sat there for a long time, hoping the battery was charging enough to get me a mile down the road to Costco.

 

 

The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Thirty-four

(I did not take any photos during this part of the trip home, so I will post some of my favorites taken earlier.   To view them best, click on one and scroll on through.)  

Chapter Thirty-Four

Above and Beyond

 

Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility.

—James Thurber

 

 

After landing in Sao Paulo, Octavio and Larissa gather us up like the lost ducklings we are and start explaining what we do now.   Normally, this is the point where the guides have completed their obligations.

 

We are at the domestic airport.   Shelly leaves to catch the hotel shuttle as she is staying one more night.  I envy her;  I wish I’d thought to do that.   A good night’s rest in a bed would be welcome.   Instead, I will spend the night crammed into an airplane seat in steerage.

 

Octavio points down the sidewalk and tells us that is where we can catch the bus to the international terminal.   One look at our faces and he decides to lead the way.

 

He guides us to the bus stand for the  terminal.   The bus is full.   He motions us back, and at Larissa’s prompting, goes to a kiosk and purchases taxi coupons for us all.   You don’t pay the driver!

 

We pile, literally, into two cabs with all our gear.   It is not close but eventually we get there.

 

The terminal is crowded.  Still, he can’t get free of us.   

 

Inside, Laura Jane goes off to her airline counter and Octavio leads Virginia and me through crushing crowds to the American Airlines booth. It is not behind a counter where the agents are relatively separated from passengers, but something like a make-shift booth where the agents are surrounded by people and ropes and luggage.

 

There is some kind of kerfuffle checking us in and it goes on for some time.  Everyone is speaking Portuguese.   I am standing back a ways, staying out of it, but eventually we get our boarding passes and hand over our luggage.  From there, we go through security and passport control, leaving Octavio and Larissa with many hugs and thanks yous for getting us through this confusing airport.

 

We make our way to Gate 19 and find seats.   By this time, we are getting hungry.   There’s a sandwich shop right in front of where we’re sitting but when I ask, any order would take a half hour.   The other close-by shops are also mobbed.

 

We sit, people-watching.

 

Someone walks past with ice cream or gelato and Virginia goes to the kiosk and buys two large gelato for us.

Jacamar

 

We sit.   Virginia looks at her phone and sees that our gate has been changed from 19 to 42!!!   No PA announcement, just a message on her phone app.   I would never have thought to look at my phone.  I might have thought to check the reader board, but I didn’t see one around.

 

 I feel more out of the modern world than ever.

 

For the past few years, I have requested wheelchair service in airports.  In addition to saving my knees and back from walking on concrete, wheelchair service does two more very-appreciated things:  1)  gets me to the correct place, and 2) I don’t have to worry about not hearing and interpreting PA announcements.

 

I decide to walk the long distance to the gate, rather than wait for a wheelchair.   I am not happy, but Virginia is right there as my shepherd.

 

Eventually, we board the plane and from then on, I have no recollection of anything until I land in Seattle.

 

Somewhere, somehow, I landed at Dallas-Ft. Worth and changed planes.   Somehow, somewhere, I acquired two sandwiches for later consumption.

 

 

I don't even know what it is.   And why would it be in a shopping bag?

 

 

 

 

The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Thirty-three

 (To view photos at their best, click on one to bring up a film strip that you can scroll through.)

Chapter Thirty-three

Calm before the Chaos

 

No man needs a vacation more than 

the man who just had one. —Elbert Hubbard 

 

 

 

And the day has come.   It’s the end of the tour of the Brazilian Pantanal  but we have yet to survive the bedlam of international air travel.

 

Right now, it’s time to say goodbye to Lala, the blue and gold macaw that has adopted Araras Eco Lodge as her home.   I am late getting up, somehow missing the message that a special breakfast would be served in the outdoor pavilion, but I manage to scrounge enough to eat from the serving plates as staff is clearing tables and such.

 

I even find a piece of papaya for Lala and off I go to her favorite place in front of the lodge.

A couple videos:

Octavio has been busy watching his phone for updates on our flight from Cuiaba to Sao Paulo, hoping that it will be early enough that three of us won’t miss our flights home.   For now, it appears all is well and we load up into the van and begin the couple hour drive on the Transpantaneria highway.

 

Not far out of camp we stop to take photos of an amazing bird.

This is potoo, a bird whose coloring disguises it like a tree trunk or branch. 

 

 

A little farther along, we stop to see a huge number of caimans sunning themselves on the shore of a small amount of water.   How do so many find enough to eat?

 

 

At length, we reach the end (or beginning) of the Transpantanaria highway and stop for the obligatory class photo.

We have enough time in Cuiaba before our flight that Octavio and Larissa decide to treat up to lunch at a popular Brazilian restaurant.   In the US, there’s a chain called Carnivores that is fashioned after this type of restaurant.

 

Servers make the round of the table, slicing off servings of whatever meat they have on skewers.

 

And, finally, I find beef that’s cooked less than well or medium.  It isn’t quite rare, which is my preference, but it’s tasty and tender.

Red or green indicates whether or not you want more meat.

Delicious beef and yes, beans and rice from an extensive buffet.

Here, the server has sausages on the skewers.

Cinnamon pineapple.

Our guides escort us through the Cuiaba air terminal and make sure we’re on the right flight to Sao Paulo.   We settle in and relax.

 

And, we’re served snacks.   Yes, all three.

We land at the domestic terminal in Sao Paulo.

 

And the chaos commences!!!

The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Thirty-Two

(To see these photos at their best, click on one.   That will bring up a film strip that you can easily scroll through.)

Chapter Thirty-Two

The No-Go Area

 

 

Where words are restrained,

the eyes often talk a great deal.

—Samuel Underwood

 

 

 

The scant light from the kitchen windows and work area at the rear of Araras lodge provide just enough illumination as we follow Octavio to the wooden rail fence that separates the guest areas from the NO GO area.  

The light fades away as we reach the rail.  He turns on the broad-beam light that he uses to spotlight animals for night photography, aims it downward into the dark, and moves it slowly to the left.

This is a lousy cell phone photo taken at night obviously.   I haven't figured out how 

to turn off the phone's light to take a night picture.   Plus, the white reflections represent only a small portion of the eyes we saw.

 

The white reflections of dozens of caimans’ eyes are startling to behold!   How can so many occupy one pond.  I’m not sure if it is really a pond, or a backwater of the nearby river.   Whatever, there are far too many caimans there for my comfort.

 

I think about sleeping just yards away from them and am a little unsettled by the thought.   I’m glad I’m on the opposite side of the room wing.  Good reason to not go out of the room at night.

 

I sleep in the next morning, having missed the notice that we would gather in an outdoor pavilion for a special breakfast.   Nonetheless, I am able to gather up enough food from the trays as the staff clears the area.

 

Then, I grab my camera and head for the pond we visited last night, the one with all the critters.   I am in search of a specific bird—the sunbittern.

 

I walk up to the rail and am a bit disappointed about a fog lying over the water, although I do take a shot of a caiman that I like.

Black-collared hawk

 

We are leaving this morning as it’s our last day of the trip, so I am limited in time to find that bird.

Your friendly, smiling caiman

 

Before  the mist evaporates,  I am astounded at the number of white storks!

The stork tree

 

I take a few shots of them, as well as some other birds, and then I see a bird fly across the water toward me and land about ten yards away.  It’s my prey:   a non-descript and subdued-colored bird with a narrow head and long legs that’s foraging in the mud on the shore.   Which is surprising because caimans are one of its main predators.

 

I take some shots and wait for it to fly.

 

When it does, magic happens!  

 

 

The pattern on the wings and back is astonishing.  From nondescript to incredible with the opening of the wings.

 

That pattern has a practical use.   It will appear to any predator as a large and threatening  face, with large eyes much like some moths and butterflies have coloration on their spread wings to mimic large eyes and scare off predators.

 

 

At length, it’s time to load up the van and begin a two to three hour drive in the Transpantanaria Highway to the border of the Pantanal.   We have an aealy afternoon flight from Cuiaba to Sao Paulo where my my flight homeward is scheduled for late tonight.

 

I think about what a great trip this has been and I am reluctant to leave.

 

But, if I thought the adventures were over, I was highly mistaken!!!

 

 

 

 

Rufous hornero

Monk parakeets

Monk parakeets

Wattled jacana juvenile

Wattled jacana adult

Green ibis

Plumbeous heron