Taos: The Return - Day 2 - Thwarted Again

1/29/17, “Thwarted Again”

Albuquerque International Sunport, New Mexico (ABQ)

By the time I close this entry tonight, this Travelogue will be 1,000,000 words long.  That is, a million words that I have typed into the Word document that I have saved on my laptop.  That is not a small amount.  The entire Harry Potter saga, all seven books, was less than a million words.  This document is not even four years old.  It relates everything that has occurred over my travels, the good, and the bad.  It relates the challenges I have faced, and I have overcome many of them and failed at overcoming others.  It has many triumphant airport entries at the conclusion of trips, but that is not what this entry will be.  This entry will, unfortunately, be mostly the bad, and it will relate challenges that I could not overcome.

When I wrote at the end of my last trip here with Connor, I said that “I shall return,” but I said it triumphantly, in celebration of the (mostly) successful trip we had together and the sites we would see in the future.  The one biggest failure of that trip was that the stamp was broken at Taos, and the Plaque was not up yet.  My readers know how important stamps and Plaques are to me.  I would need to return to Taos, which was the purpose of this trip, to get the stamp and see the Plaque.  Well, as luck would have it, Taos was closed in its entirety today.  No stamp, no Plaque.  I was thwarted again.

In fact, that seemed to be the theme of this trip.  There were five sites we set out to visit this trip, and three of them wound up requiring a return visit.  This was not a successful trip.  It was a failure.  I will need to return, and then, at last, if all goes well, I will get me Stamp and Plaque at Taos and visit the other sites I need to see to say, “New Mexico Complete.”

I have to blame myself for planning this poorly, though the main site, Taos, was unavoidable.  The website clearly said that it was open today, and I checked both when I booked the flight and again yesterday.  However, Capulin Volcano NM, the closure was surely announced before I left, and Valles Caldera, I could have called ahead to learn that the brochures weren’t ready.  If I had known that, I could have planned a trip that only visited the sites that would not necessitate a return visit while also including Gila Cliff Dwellings NM in the trip.  I will return, though, either in March or May, and I will be properly prepared that time.  Okay, so how did this disappointing and frustrating day go?

After I closed last night, we got toasted and attempted to have a good time, despite Connor’s insistence on blasting music from his phone that I found jarring and annoying, despite my frequent pleas for him not to play anything at all.  Apparently his idea of a good time did not take into account what bothered me.  Instead, I wound up just scrolling through my phone, doing my best to ignore the loud music, as we drank our whiskey without talking.  We went to bed right at midnight, and we were able to sleep in a bit, as I had overestimated how long the drives were today.  We went to get breakfast, and I got something I had never seen before: a breakfast quesadilla.  It was okay but nothing special, and the coffee was disappointing.

We got ready and headed to Taos Pueblo.  When we got there, we saw the words that broke my heart: TAOS PUEBLO CLOSED.  FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   There was a maintenance worker, who said that he thought the Plaque was inside the gate and that the Stamp had been repaired (or replaced), but we would not be able to get either due to the closure.  We would need to return.  What to do now?  It was 10 AM, and we were two hours under budget for the day.

We went the casino, which was only slot machines, but I won a small amount of money, and Connor lost slightly more than I won.  We lit up Caobas and headed towards Los Alamos, which would wind up being the major activity of the day, much to my chagrin.  I just wanted a stamp and a picture, but we would wind up spending three hours there.  I suppose that stress levels were high at this point, as Connor hadn’t included anything he wanted to do on the itinerary, and I didn’t want to go out last night, which he wanted to, and two of the three things I wanted to do so far were closed.  The trip was not going well.

Okay, I am now about to reach my millionth word, so I would like to celebrate this significant moment.  As of writing this, the word “moment” is my millionth word.  It was quite a feat, and I am rightfully proud of the effort I put into this.  When I first wrote in Rosalie, I never expected this document to ever become this large.  It has truly taken a life of its own.

Okay, so we got to the VC in Los Alamos, part of the newly created Manhattan Project NHP.  There was a brief walking route around town, and a science museum at the end of the route.  It would take about an hour to get to the museum, including stops, and the museum would not open until 1 PM.  That would be perfect timing.  We did our business at the VC and then started walking the path.  I lit up a Graycliff, and Connor died me to walk on the frozen pond.  I judged it to be safe enough and took him up on the challenge.  There was no issue.  We took a ceremonial picture after he lit up his Graycliff, too, and then walked around town.

We saw such sites as the Oppenheimer’s home.  It was an interesting tour, but I was the one with the map, and Connor would always walk ahead of me, so I would follow him, only to realize he was going the wrong direction.  He would then get angry at me for not telling him which way to go before he started walking.  I told him that I assumed he knew where he was going.  Stress levels increased.  We eventually got back to the VC and then parked the truck in the parking lot for the museum.  We were hungry at this point, so I suggested we get a slice from the pizzeria next to the museum.  He said that pizza would take too long to cook.  Apparently they don’t have precooked slices in New Mexico like they do in the northeast.

We went to the museum, and, while we had an hour and a half budgeted, I did not think we needed that much time.  The museum was tiny and geared towards kids.  We watched a film, and then went to see the exhibits.  I only needed ten minutes to see the whole museum, but Connor insisted on interacting with every exhibit and reading every sign.  I wanted to get out of there, as I was bored, and he said I was rushing him.  Stress levels further increased.  I spent more time on my phone, even though my battery life was rapidly diminishing.  At one point, he suggested I go order the pizza, and I asked him if he would be out by the time the pizza was ready.  He could make no such promise.  I waited, as I didn’t want to eat without him.

Eventually, we left, and we went to the pizzeria.  He then said he didn’t want pizza.  I was ready to kill him.  He told me to order what I wanted and then walked to the truck.  My phone was at 5% at this point.  This was when he did something that went beyond the bounds of an innocent prank and was downright nasty.  Next thing I knew, the truck was gone.  I called him, and he told me that the truck was where he parked it.  He gave me similar bullshit answers when I tried texting him, even though I told him my phone was almost dead.  Nothing about this was funny, and he would not tell me where he was.  For all I knew, he had driven back to Albuquerque without me.  My pizza came, but I was too stressed to eat.  I ate a quarter of it and then got the rest to go.  I found his truck across the street outside the Subway, and he was inside.  I was furious.  I ate the pizza by his truck and waited for him to come out.

When I got in the truck, I told him that nothing about what he did was funny.  I explained that going out of your way to annoy your travel partner makes him not want to travel with you again.  I said that all he did to do was say, “I’m across the street at the Subway.”  He insisted he did nothing wrong.  We then headed towards our next stop, but the highway had a security checkpoint, which we thought was the lab entrance, so we kept getting lost.  Stress levels further increased.

The drive was scenic, which calmed us both down, and we had to go inside a collapsed supervolcano.  That’s where the VC for Valles Caldera NPres was, and it was all covered in snow.  It truly was beautiful and scenic.  It was a bit of an adventure driving down the snow-covered road, but we made it.  When we got to the VC, we learned that the brochures would not be ready until much later in the year.  Fuck!  They didn’t even have temporary paper brochures.  I had lit up a Vegas Robaina Canada Exclusivo, and I left it out on the porch.

After my failure in the VC, I went to smoke my cigar on the porch while Connor talked to the ranger.   The ranger (did I mention he was armed?) told me I needed to smoke in the parking lot.  Instead, I walked across the parking lot to the Uer.  It was a primitive Uer and very smelly.  While I was in there, I heard a load knock.  I ignored it, knowing the Uer to be locked.  When I got opened the door, I saw the ranger standing at full height, his hand not six inches from his holstered weapon.  “If I told you I couldn’t smoke on the porch, what made you think you could smoke in the bathroom?” he demanded.  “I didn’t even think about it,” I answered honestly.  He reminded me that smoking was prohibited in all NPS buildings, including bathrooms.

Connor soon came out and related the story from his end.  The ranger had told him, “Hold on, I have to go yell at your boy.  If he can’t smoke on the porch, why does he think he can smoke in the bathroom.”  “I can’t control what he does,” Connor had said.   “Don’t worry, I can,” the armed ranger had told Connor.  We too our ceremonial pictures and then got back on the road, towards a place called Battleship Rock.  Connor said that the real reason he wanted to go was that he had hidden a Playboy there in 7^th Grade and wanted to retrieve it.  When I reminded him that that would need to go into the Travelogue, we disavowed the story.

We got to the site, and I went to take a picture, dropping my phone in the mud in the process.  I went to pick up the phone, only to drop my water bottle, which was easily cleaned with snow and my shirt.  We walked around a bit, and Connor said the hiding place, which was a cave, would have bears in the winter, so we didn’t go.  From there, we headed to El Pinto for dinner, where we would meet Pete and his girlfriend.  That would technically mark the beginning of the return journey, and my pipe is done, so I will close so that I can write the return journey in its entirety from my usual spot at Gate B5.

Here I am, at the exact same spot where I closed out my previous three trips to New Mexico.  I would say the same bench, but they have slightly reconfigured the benches, so my usual bench is in a different spot, and this bench is the usual spot.  It is a place that is filled with memories good and bad, just as the trips have been a mix of good and bad.  This was a bad trip, but I can hope that the next one will be good.  That’s the thing about failed trips.  For the most part there is always an opportunity to make up for it with a future trip.  That is what led to my epic “Because It’s There” trip.  Hopefully my next trip to New Mexico will make up for this one.

Okay, so I left off as we were driving to El Pinto, which would mark my third trip-ending dinner at New Mexico’s “most iconic restaurant,” my second with Connor and also my second one with Pete and his girlfriend.  We saw the familiar sunset across the Sandia Mountains as we made our way to the restaurant, and I smoke my Avo on the way, which I knew to mean that the trip was coming to an end, none to soon.

I finished my cigar outside by the fire pit, and we got a table.  Pete and his girlfriend joined us soon after we were seated, and we prepared for an epic feast.  I always overeat at El Pinto, and I never regret it.  The heavy food helps me sleep well on the brief flight back to New York.  We got a round of drinks and a big plate of nachos to start.  The four of us couldn’t even finish the nachos.

They were out of the usual red chile ribs, so I opted for the steak, which was purported to be good.  Pete and his girlfriend got a quesadilla to share.  The food soon came, and the steak was dry and overcooked.  I joked to Pete, “If I wanted to get a bad steak for $20, I would have gone to a diner, or an Italian restaurant.”  Pete found the joke quite amusing.  Okay, the usual bench has opened up, so I will switch to it.

Yeah, this view is all wrong, but it feels good to be on the old bench.  It is a bench that holds so many memories for me, as I mentioned above.  The steak was really bad, but I ate it anyway.  Pete didn’t touch the quesadilla, and his girlfriend only ate one of the eight slices.  The nachos were very filling.  We talked and joked and made plans to hang out during their upcoming visit to New York.

After dinner, I got tempted to order dessert, which was plenty for the four of us to share.  El Pinto doesn’t do small portions.  The dessert was a Mexican version of tiramisu, and it was quite good.  After the meal, I changed into my suit, and we said our goodbyes.  From there, it was to the airport.  I wondered if the protests against Trump’s recent immigration restrictions would extend to this airport, but it seemed unlikely.  I got my ticket and went out to the smoking area.

I sat down and lit up my 2011 Christmas Pipe, glad to be back in order this time, now smoking the same pipe I had smoked in Quebec, Port Lockroy, Hong Kong, Everest, Sydney, and Cap-Haitien.  This would be far overshadowed by such locations.  I then proceeded to write the first part of this entry, but my establishing shot was ruined by a news truck parking and putting on its flashers.  Soon, I saw another news crew running by me.  Twitter confirmed that there was a protest going on in the arrivals area.  I would avoid that area, but the establishing shot was ruined.

I wrote anyway, and the truck soon left, allowing me to take a better establishing shot.  After I closed, I went through security with no problem and headed to the gate, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: Baja with Roberto, so that we can say, “Mexico Complete.” 

Taos: The Return - Day 1 - Of Forts and Volcanoes

1/28/17, “Of Forts and Volcanoes”

Taos, New Mexico

When I travel domestically, I almost exclusively do so to visit the various units of the National Park Service, which now number around 420.  At the onset of this trip, I had visited 263 units, and these trips allow me to pursue that moving target, as new sites get designated almost every year.  Like World Heritage Sites, National Park Sites can either be cultural sites, such as a famous, historic fort, or natural sites, such as a beautiful, scenic volcano.  There are also use-based sites known as National Recreation Areas, but that is for another entry.

When I set out to see America the Beautiful, I do not look at the various National Park Sites and decide which ones pique my interest.  In fact, I do quite the opposite.  I pick a geographical area I want to visit and then plan a trip based on which National Park Sites are in that geographical area.  I do, after all, want to see them all eventually.  While National Parks do take precedence over other types of units, I have already visited every National Park on the continental mainland.  I do not do any research on the sites beforehand, other than logistical concerns (operating hours, location, time necessary to allocate on-site, etc.).  I do not care why the fort was famous and historic, and I do not care how beautiful and scenic the volcano is.  I care about how where it is located, when I can get my stamp, and how long I will need to spend on-site.  That’s it.  Everything else I will either learn at the VC or by seeing the site itself.

I have been to so many forts and battlefields like this, knowing nothing about it, or even what war it was from, until I arrive at the VC.  Likewise, I have been to so many volcanoes and mountains with a similar lack of knowledge.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s all about the stamp.  America the Beautiful, indeed, and one day I will have seen all of them, along with every state capitol, but that day is a long way off, probably close to a decade off.  Until then, I will carry on and keep checking off units.  That, along with some unfinished business at the nearby Taos Pueblos, was the purpose of this trip.

After I closed last night, I went to sleep and was soon awoken, as Connor was about to pick me up.  We stopped at a Jack-in-the-Box for breakfast, which we ate in the car.  After breakfast, as we drove to the fort, we listened to Connor’s road trip mix, and I lit up a Davidoff Yamasa Toro.  After his CD, we put on Red, but we were at the fort before the album (or the cigar) was done.

We learned at the VC that the fort (Fort Union National Monument) was from the 19^th Century and was pivotal in the defense of the Southwest during the Civil War and various Indian campaigns.  We walked around and took some ceremonial pictures.  It was actually a lot more interesting than some of the other forts I had scene, since the clay construction was well preserved in the desert.  After our pictures, we headed back towards the car, and we lit up a pair of Auroras for the road.

We stopped in Raton for gas and lunch at a Mexican place attached to the gas station.  In addition to procuring a bunch of snacks for the car, I got a chimichanga and nachos with cheese.  After lunch, we got in the car, lit up a pair of Aroma de Cubas and headed to the volcano (Capulin Volcano National Monument).  When we got there, about half an hour later, we learned that it was closed for renovations.  NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

The VC and the road to the volcano was completely closed for renovations.  Without a stamp, there was no way I could mark this as my 265^th Unit, and it would necessitate a return visit.  There was a closed off gate, but the sign was not far down the road, and I could walk to it to take a great picture, but, still, no stamp, no credit.  I was devastated, but I would need to make the best of this.  I attempted to walk around the gate, which meant walking over the cattle guard, only to get my foot almost stuck in the cattle guard.  Connor wants me to record the exchange that followed in its entirety.  “What do you expect,” he asked, “it’s a cattle guard!”  “I’m a human,” I responded, “not a cattle.”

I made my way to the sign and took a picture there, though it was hardly ceremonial.  We got back on the road and figured out how to plan a return visit.  In the end, we figured out it would have to be another 2-day trip with one day for Gila and another day for Capulin.  It was really fucking annoying.  We made our way to Taos, only to have our eye caught by a line of various state flags.  In figuring out what the flags were doing there, we discovered that it was an NRA Center.

Since we had time, we figured we might as well check it out, and I also figured that a gun center would not stop me from my smoking my cigar inside.  I was right.  They had a shop inside, but the ranges were BYOG (Bring Your Own Gun).  We looked around a bit, and Connor said that when we return to visit Capulin, he has some old rifles he can bring for us to use at the range.  That sounded like a plan.

We made our way to Taos, and he asked where the hotel was.  I told him that it was the same hotel we stayed at last time we were at Taos.  Well, it turned out that I had actually booked the hotel across the street.  Whoops. That was pretty representative of the comedy of errors that today has become.  Once we got to the hotel, we engaged in some tomfoolery involving Connor filming himself talking backwards and reversing the video on Snapchat to do some funny effects.  We then took a nap before heading out for dinner.

We went to this dinky little Mexican restaurant that was absolutely packed.  We got chips and dips to start, and I got enchiladas for my main course.  It was beyond delicious.  We got a cake to go, and then our plan was to go to the cigar shop, which was across the street, but it was closed.  Instead, we went to the liquor store to get some drinks for later.  There was some drama involved in figuring out how much we wanted to drink and when, and he wound up going back to get more while I went to the hotel to eat my half of cake and get started on my entry.

I ate half the cake, which was quite good, and then I went to fill up my Christmas Pipe.  It was at that point that I had realized a huge error.  I had packed my 2008, 2010, and 2011 Christmas Pipes (I do not own one from 2009), but I had thought that I had packed the 2010, 2011, and 2012 Christmas Pipes, as the 2008 and 2012 Christmas Pipes both do not have sleeves and look somewhat similar.  Because of that, I had smoked my 2010 Christmas Pipe last night, and that meant I had gone out of order.  Fuck!  I was seriously pissed.  In all my years of smoking Christmas Pipes, I think I had only made that error once before, confusing the 2006 and 2007 Christmas Pipe.  Well, the 2008 Christmas Pipe had to be smoked.  It was the same pipe I smoked in Mont Tremblant, Vienna, the Corinthian, Xi’an, and Cairns.  Taos will do well to join that list, even if it was smoked out of order.

I then went outside and sat down.  I had the perfect establishing shot, and I was about to start writing my entry, when Connor pulled up in his truck and parked directly in front of our room, ruining the shot.  I told him that he ruined the shot, and he said that he had actually thought about.  Something about Connor is that he is very observant, and I am very predictable if you observe me properly, so he knows all my routines, all of my quirks, and often makes jokes to that effect, knowing that certain actions he takes will necessary find their way into the Travelogue.  I moved the chair, then with some difficulty, cutting my finger on the cap in the process, managed to open my beer.  I then sat down and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish before we get toasted.

Taos: The Return - Day 0 - "Elections Have Consequences"

“Taos: The Return”

1/27/17, “Elections Have Consequences"

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York (JFK)

This time two years ago, after decisive midterm elections, Republicans had just taken control of both Houses of Congress, and, other than literally “setting foot” in the state at the Four Corners Monument, I had never properly visited New Mexico.

Now, two years later, President Trump has been sworn in as the 45^th President of the United States, an event I witnessed in Washington a week ago today, Republicans still control both Houses of Congress, and I am about to head to the Land of Enchantment for what will make my fourth trip since Mitch McConnell became the Majority Leader of the Senate.  He has accomplished next to nothing at that post, but with a President more willing to sign legislation he passes, that will change over the next four years.  What has occurred since McConnell took that post, however, is that I have fallen in love with the Land of Enchantment, as is evinced by the fact by my frequent return trips.

What, however, has President Trump accomplished in the time since I saw him sworn in as President?  Well, actually, a lot.  He did exactly what he said he would do, and people seem shocked that he followed through on his campaign promises.  Is that what this world has come to, that the media goes into a tailspin when a politician follows through on his campaign promises?  For better or worse, by securing our border and restricting high-risk immigration and visas, President Trump has done what he said he would do.

When I saw him in Washington, he explained his doctrine of “America First.”  He said that it is the absolute right of every sovereign country in the world to put her own interests first and that America will no longer seek to impose her way of life on other countries, but instead serve as a model for every countries to emulate.  It’s about damn time we had a President say that.  America cannot and should not be the world’s policeman.  That is a concept I despised from the the time I first heard the expression as a young teenager.  We should neither be the mother nor father to the world.  Trump’s actions of the past week has proved that he meant it when he said, “America First.”

He said that he would “Make America Great Again”, and he is doing just that, much to the chagrin of the liberals whose sense of humanity he has offended.  Well, it should come as no surprise that he is doing this.  It is all right there in his “Contract with the American Voter.”  On November 8^th, the American voters signed the contract, and now he is keeping his end of the contract.  My political beliefs should be obvious, and this is the last I will say on the issue, but the fact that he is doing what he said he would do on the campaign trail should be celebrated, not condemned.  As his predecessor said, “Elections have consequences.”

Okay, so what about the Land of Enchantment?  What keeps bringing me back?  I have already written much about why I love this state so much, and my need for completeness keeps brings me to new places in the state.  The fact that one of my best friends lives there makes it convenient, and the discounted airfare got me there this weekend than later in the year.  So, that’s a bit of an issue for me.  I seem to always forget that New Mexico is cold in the winter.  Very cold.  It’s even cold in the spring.  Very cold.  I figure that, it’s pretty far south, so it must be warm.  Well, that is true, but it is an, um, alternative fact.  The relevant fact is that it’s at a high altitude, so that makes it cold almost year-round.  This time, however, I have packed properly for the cold weather.  I have not done that in the past.

Okay, so Day 0, which was entirely unadventurous.  I had packed the night before, but I had neglected to pick my suit up from the cleaners.  I also needed to get to the office at 8 AM due to my early departure.  That meant that I had to wake up very early, which I did, so that I could get my suit and get ready, which I did.  I took a taxi the short way up Park Avenue to the office.  I did my usual Friday morning stuff and then went out to lunch with a coworker, to Hop Won for my traditional pre-departure lunch.

After lunch, I huddled in the plaza on 43^rd Street and smoked my pre-departure Cohiba.  I then went to the office, finished up what I had to do, and ate the McDonald’s I had in the fridge before I left for the airport.  There was a fair bit of traffic, but I got to the airport around 6 PM, and I was able to bypass the usual long security line at Terminal 5 since I had PreCheck.  I got through security with no trouble, and went to get a snack or something.  I was about to get some packaged cookies, but I checked the price, and it was way too high for what it was.  I headed to my gate and find something cheaper.  I ate my cookies and then sat down at the gate, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close as we are about to board, though I will not be able to publish this until I write tonight’s entry from Albuquerque.

Corrales, New Mexico

Two years ago, right before the trip to New Mexico that I mentioned earlier, I wrote a similary underwhelming dateline of Greenbelt, Maryland, as I smoked my 2007 Christmas Pipe, the same pipe that had previously been smoked under datelines of Ottawa, Budapest, London, Kingston, and the Beagle Channel.  I had taken a spontaneous trip to Washington with Raymond, and we stayed at his brother’s apartment in Greenbelt.  Now Pete is living here in Corrales, and I am once more staying overnight at his apartment, which means my 2010 Christmas Pipe can add this dateline to the list that includes Quebec, Istanbul, the Bransfield Strait, Belmopan, Nassau, Kathmandu, Sydney, and, recently, Santo Domingo.  Corrales, New Mexico does not measure up any better than Greenbelt, Maryland did, and this establishing shot is equally unimpressive.  The journey that brought me here, however, is of some interest.

After I closed, we soon boarded, and the plane looked like it better belonged in the Reagan Administration than the Trump Administration.  There were no outlets, and the entertainment system was lacking.  The lack of outlets was a problem, as my computer and phone were both around 20%.  I would be able to drain the charge off of my laptop on to my phone, but that meant I would not have enough battery on either device to really surf the internet in-flight.  The movie options were limited, and certainly no Oscar Noms were available. I watched Fox News, had some snacks and seltzer, and soon fell asleep, only to be woken up by bumps and screams.  It was a bit of a struggle to get back to sleep, but I probably got a full REM cycle throughout the flight.

We landed early, and Connor and Pete were waiting for me at the airport, though I somehow managed to walk right by them, as we were both recording our adventures on Snapchat.  That was when the fun began.  I mean that both sarcastically and literally.  We took a picture together and then headed to Pete’s Land Rover, which, again, looked like it was from the Reagan Administration.  The backseat was tight, and my suitcase had to go in there, as well, since the trunk was full.  During the drive, Connor asked if Raymond had been complaining about a problem with his roommates.  The question was directed at Pete, but he and I both answered in the affirmative simultaneously.  We soon figured out that Raymond had been telling three versions of the same story to the three of us.

We went to Wendy’s to get food to go, which turned out to be an adventure at the drive-through.  I asked for a seltzer, but they said they didn’t have it, though they did have Sprite.  I explained that I didn’t want anything sweetened.  I asked for a small Frosty instead, which, I’m sure, had more sugar than a Sprite.  She asked if I wanted chocolate or vanilla.  I answered, “Yes.”  She said, “Okay.”  I shit you not.  We also got fries and burgers.   When we got to the drive-through window, they had figured out how to make a seltzer, and I got it for free.  That was a nice boon.

We got to Pete’s place in Corrales, and sat down for our dinner.  Connor left after dinner, and I resituated myself before Pete and I went outside to smoke our pipes.  I sat down, lit up my 2010 Christmas Pipe, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish.

Hispaniola - Day 4 - The Return Journey

1/17/17, “The Return Journey”

Toussant Louverture International Airport, Haiti (PAP)

And so another trip comes to an end, and the time has come for one of my favorite parts of any trip: the triumphant airport entry.  If this establishing shot does not look like a typical airport smoking lounge, it’s because it’s not.  Instead, they merely zone off half of the top floor of the airport, by less fancy duty-free shops, as a smoking section.  Like the rest of the country, the ventilation system is rudimentary, but it works, though there are no barriers between the smoking section and the non-smoking sections and the shops.

This trip has a brilliant success, but I will be glad to get off this island and back home as soon as possible.  To say that Haiti is not one of my favorite places would be an understatement.  As much as I loved Santo Domingo and anticipated a return visit, the opposite could be said for Port-au-Prince.  I can say, with absolute certainty, that, unless Haiti gets another World Heritage Site, I will never return to this country.  I’m sure my readers by now have realized that I’m not a spend-a-weekend-at-an-all-inclusive-beach-resort kind of travel.  In fact, I am quite the opposite.

The other night I worked up my list of top 20 or so trips to take in my 30s, and Timbuktu and the Congo were on that list.  Those are not exactly developed countries, so I am not averse to travelling to what used to be called the “Third World” or “Developing Countries” but is now known as the “Global South”.  That said, it can also be very frustrating travelling to countries like this.  Overpopulation is always a problem, and that leads to terrible traffic and pollution.  Even the best hotels do not measure up to what I would consider a mediocre hotel almost anywhere in the United States.

I miss corporate America when I travel to the Global South.  I miss knowing that I can stop somewhere for lunch and be in and out in fifteen minutes.  I miss the luxuries that we see as the basics brought about my modern technology.  I miss having a fast data signal on my phone, though I am thankful that I can now get a signal that is good enough to upload a photo to social media from almost any country in the world, even if it’s a slow process.

I have gotten good enough at planning trips that I feel confident in my ability to arrange a visit to any national capital in the world (even Pyongyang if I wanted) and almost any World Heritage Site.  Some of the sites on remote islands pose a unique challenge, but anything on any of the continental mainland would be accessible.  I have gone on some very ambitious trips, both for the difficulty of reaching certain locations or for the aggressive schedules I have planned for myself.

I have done well in both regards, and, in a few years, when I plan to go to Virunga or Timbuktu or take the Trans-Siberian Railroad across Russia or do my CFA island hopping trip, I have the utmost confident in my ability to pull it off.  In these regards, Haiti is pretty much around the median for difficulty of travel.  I think countries like Pakistan or Lebanon or any of the “Stans” in Central Asia will prove more challenging than Haiti, while the island nations of the South Pacific will prove easier, along with all of Europe.

I have been to 71 countries, and by my count, there are 197 in the world.  I have been to about a quarter of all World Heritage Sites.  I did the vast majority of this in the past five years.  As I continue my travels, I will work towards that moment when I have been to every country and national legislative assembly building, along with every World Heritage Site and can, at last, say, “Earth Complete.”  However, with a dozen or more World Heritage Sites being added every year, it is always a moving target.

Okay, before I continue, I need to return to this geography that I’ve been discussing.  Trinidad and Tobago.  It is a small island in the Lesser Antilles, which means that I counted it in my country count for the West Indies and, by extension, North America.  However, like Curacao, it is on the shelf of South America and should thereby properly be considered part of South America.  I suppose it is a moot point, since I have already said “Trinidad and Tobago Complete” four years ago, but I wonder if I could have claimed that as my first visit to South America, rather than waiting for Ushuaia almost two years later.  As I said, it a moot point.  My trip to Iceland has been book and paid for, and everything else in North America has been fully planned.

After I closed last night, I relaxed for a bit before heading down for dessert, again cake, coffee, and ice cream.  I then discussed with various people plans for the inauguration (spoiler alert: I’m going, I think).  After that, I published my photos before going to sleep and getting quite a lot of sleep for the first time all trip.  I headed down for breakfast and got a creole omelet (just an omelet with onions, peppers, tomatoes, and ham), along with bacon and coffee.  I also had a Caoba, just like I had (and forgot to record) yesterday morning.

After breakfast, I packed and got ready.  I went to check out, and I saw that they had charge me for the room, even though I had prepaid it online.  It’s not my fault that they were too dysfunctional to keep my voucher.  I told them that I would dispute the charge with the bank if they charged me twice, which would create major headaches for them, along with the nasty reviews I would write online.  Eventually the manager came, and he told me where I could find some souvenir shops down the block, and one of his staff would take me there.  He said he would figure it out by the time I got back.

I went, and they had some nice keychains but not much else that interested me.  I had my replica and flag pin from Cap-Haitien, and the keychains would seal the deal.  I got the keychains and headed back up the hill.  He said that he found the reservation under the Expedia listings, not the Booking listings.  Okay, why they were looking at the Booking listings was beyond me, since I had said numerous times it would be under Expedia.  They presented me a new credit card slip to sign for my meals, and I signed it.

He then had his driver take me to the airport, and the traffic was, as predictable, brutal.  When we got to the airport, the driver asked for a tip (not a fare, just a tip), so I gladly gave him about half of what I paid the taxi driver who brought me to the hotel from the airport, and he was very grateful for it.  Now that I think about, I am realizing that the amount that I paid last night that seemed high, probably actually included the airport ride this morning, so I guess it all evened out in the end.  As soon as I got out of the car, someone approached me and tried to take my bags, but I waved him off.  Instead, he escorted me to the JetBlue counter, where he demanded a tip.  He provided me no service, but he was insistent that I tip him for showing me where the JetBlue counter was (as if I wouldn’t have found it on my own).  I turned him down again.  I checked in and headed to security.

I lost my bottle of Dominican rum to security, but, for some reason, my full water bottle didn’t raise any issues, nor did my lighter.  As I said, an entirely dysfunctional country.  I went to the main duty-free shop and used the last of my gourdes on a nice bottle of Haitian rum.  I then asked where the smoking lounge was.  The cashier said I smoke upstairs by the bar.  I went upstairs, and I saw a bookshop with t-shirts, and they even had flag pins!  Perfect.  The airport flag pin at the capital would supersede the one I got in Cap-Haitien, and it has even become a bit of a tradition for me to only find the flag pin when I travel to this region at the airport, at the end of the trip, after all other hope has been lost.

They Iceland flag pin Reykjavik is the only that remains, besides the subnational flag pins from Greenland and Newfoundland.  I also found a place where I could get a three-pack of Cubans (Hoyo de Monterrey).  My shopping done, I went to the smoking area, put my bags down, and bought a much-needed lemonade (which means something very different outside of the states).  I then sat down, lit up my Hoyo de Monterrey, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can finish my cigar before I head to the gate.

En route, Danny’s Uber

I usually prefer a good old yellow cab to an Uber back from the airport, but I couldn’t pass up a 15% discounted fare, and you always get a good adventure when you are solicited by an Uber driver at the airport, in this case one who was glad to smoke a cigar with you en route.  On that note, without realizing it, I broke with tradition in my earlier entry, as it slipped my mind that my usual tradition is to treat the return journey in its entirety so that this entry has a little more bulk than just the flight itself.  I should have cut that entry short after the souvnenirs in Port-au-Prince, but what’s done is done.

After I closed at PAP, I headed towards my gate, and I had to go through another security check since it was a US flight.  My boarding pass said that boarding was at 1:52 PM.  Apparently, they had started boarding much earlier, and my name was called at 1:50 PM, and I was told to hurry on the plane.  The flight was incredibly annoying.  There seemed to be a sick passenger a couple of rows up, but I only discerned that from the smell of rotten eggs and few whispered conversations.  The flight crew gave no explanation for the incredibly slow delay in service, which it took over an hour for me to get my first drink (coffee), even though I was in Row 8 and almost another half-hour after that for snacks.

They almost immediately came through with the snack boxes, and I bought one.  It was an assortment of salted meat, cheese, and crackers.  There was no knife, no napkin, and no beverage.  It was less than ideal, no say the least.  Eventually, though the drink service and snacks came through, followed a bit later by internet access.  When we finally landed at Kennedy, I saw that it was pouring out, so taking the bus, with my four shopping bags of hand luggage (in lieu of the suitcase I was now regretting not packing), was not an option.

I cleared border control without delay, but it was 10-minute walk to the taxi stand, with my four heavy shopping bags in hand.  JetBlue customer service will be getting a very angry customer service letter from me shortly.  When I got outside, there was a long taxi ride, and an Uber handler offered me a ride, but it was more expensive than a taxi.  I almost immediately realized that, with Uber I didn’t have to give a tip, so it actually would have been cheaper, but someone else offered me a ride almost right away for a cheaper price.  I accepted.

When we were on our way, he said that I could smoke and asked if I had one for him.  I took an LFD for myself and gladly gave him a Nub from my bag, though I wanted to give him one of the Dominicans I had brought back, but they were in the truck.  We lit up our cigars, and I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: well, I’m going to DC for the Inauguration, but that won’t have an overnight stay, so it doesn’t really count.  I guess it’s New Mexico next weekend, then.

Hispaniola - Day 3 - Capitals Old and New

1/16/17, “Capitals Old and New”

Port-au-Prince, Haiti

As the sun sets over the capital of Haiti, I finally have a chance to relax and recount the events of the day that brought me from Haiti’s old capital to its new one.  It has been an incredibly exhausting and epic day, and, in the end, I accomplished my mission.  When I set out to see the world five years ago, I don’t think I ever reasonably expected to visit Haiti.  The World Heritage Site I visited this morning always seemed an impossible place to visit, and, when I began my mission, Haiti’s legislative assembly building had just been destroyed by an earthquake, and they had not yet begun building a new one.  I suppose, then, it is fitting that my mission comes to an end here.

There are 13 independent countries in the West Indies, and, when I set out to see the world five years ago, I had been to exactly zero of them.  I have now been to all 13, and, not only that, but I have also been to every legislative assembly building and World Heritage Site in those 13 countries.  My mission has been accomplished.  From Bahamas to Trinidad and Tobago, I did it, all 13 of them.

I had a similar feeling of exaltation two years ago in San Jose, Costa Rica, when I made a similar statement about Central America.  While Central America has fewer countries and fewer World Heritage Sites than the West Indies, due to the small size of most these islands, it was not as hard fought as “Central America Complete” was.

Only the Greater Antilles posed challenges, Cuba most of all, but I said, “Cuba Complete”, and now I have said “Hispaniola Complete”.  I rattled off a long list of Completes after I took my picture at Parliament, but I added in, “Iceland, I’m coming for you.”  Other than the Iceland/Greenland trip, all that stands between me and “North America Complete” can be found in United States and our two closest neighbors.  I will say, “Mexico Complete” next month, and I will say, “Canada Complete” in July.  The finish line is in sight.

After I closed last night, I lit up the LFD I had gotten in Santo Domingo and relaxed for a bit.  I then had some dessert: cake, coffee, and ice cream.  After dessert, I went to the bar and lit an Ardor and published my photos, followed by a Leon.  I then went to bed, but couldn’t fall asleep until the Steelers game had ended.  They won and they promise to give the Patriots a run for their money next week.

I woke up early and headed down for breakfast.  I knew that it would be a complete race to get the WHS and back and to the airport in time for my flight.  Well, the breakfast spread left something to be desired, namely protein.  All they had was fruit and various starches, including, oddly, pasta.  I asked for meat and eggs, and they were able to cook me up some ham and eggs.  The coffee was good, very good.  After breakfast, I took the taxi to the WHS.

Reader, at this point I should mention that I had a decent amount of cash in my pocket, American dollars, about 2 months of the per capita GDP of this country.  It should have been enough to last me the rest of trip and more.  After an adventurous drive through the most run-down parts of Cap-Haitien, we arrived at the entrance to the WHS.  There, I was told how much I needed to pay, and it was in parts, the ticket, the guide, and the horse.  It was a large amount, but it seemed reasonable enough.  I was on a tight schedule, so I wanted to do this as quickly as possible.  In order to get to the top of the Citadel, you had to take a motorcycle (riding on the back) to a horse, which would take you up the mountain.  It would be a total of an hour in transit round trip (plus the hour and a half round trip from the hotel to the WHS entrance), which would give me about half an hour at the Citadel.  That was plenty for my purposes.

We went to the motorcycles (since, it seemed, my taxi driver was coming up to the Citadel with me, in addition to the guide).  There were no helmets or protective gear, and, did I mention it was raining?  We had to go up a steep cobblestone path to get to the horses.  Reader, in my travels I have done some danagerous things, including all of those crazy overnight drives in Yugoslavia and the Dalton in Alaska, but this certainly had to be top five.  I was glad to be dressed in cargo shorts and sandals for this adventure, and all of my pockets were snapped shut.

We soon got to the horses, and now we had to take three horses (me, my guide, and the taxi driver).  I had a feeling I would be stuck with the bill for all three horses.  I was.  I easily mounted the horse, and we went up the mountain to the Citadel.  There were five people accompanying us, in addition to the three of us ahorse, and I knew they would all want tips.  The guide knew exactly where the inscription photo was taken, but he said it looked different now, since they had to rebuild the wall after the earthquake.

I lit up an H. Upmann, and we got to the entrance to the Citadel.  It was locked.  The guide said that the guy with the key would be there in 25 minutes.  I didn’t have 25 minutes.  He made a phone call, and, somehow, the guy showed right up.  We walked around and went to the spot of the inscription photo, where I took my ceremonial picture, and that was that.  I also bought a small keychain.  As were leaving the Citadel, the guide asked for the money for the four horses, plus an additional fee for the two motorcycles round-trip.  It was a small fortune, but it was not included with the entrance or guide fees.  I’m sure if I had negotiated a price earlier, I could have gotten a better deal, but, I had no choice other than to pay if I wanted to make it down the mountain in any kind of reasonable time.  I was almost out of cash now, and I knew it would be a seriously problem if I couldn’t find an ATM.

They brought the horse next to a cannon, and had me stand on the wet, slippery cannon in order to mount the horse.  That was stupid.  Sure enough, I slid off the cannon and fell on the ground.  They were apologetic and tried to help me on the horse again.  I didn’t need help.  The cannon was a hindrance, not a help.  I also didn’t want them thinking I was the gringo who didn’t know how to ride a horse.  Angrily, I waved them off and told them to bring the horse away from the cannon.  I then effortlessly mounted the horse the proper way, using the stirrups.

We took the horse to the motorcycles, where I hand out a wad of small banknotes for the five of them to share as tips, and then we took the motorcycle to the parking lot.  I bought a small painted plate, and it was now 10:30 AM.  The flight was at 1 PM, and it would be very tight to get to the airport by noon.  We stopped at an ATM, and I got what I thought would be enough for the rest of the day.  At this point, I was completely nauseated, whether from horse and motorcycle rides or the abrupt shift in weather from cold and wet to hot and dry, I know not, but I was in agony.  I changed into my suit at the hotel, and then I had to pay the taxi driver his fee, which was beyond outrageous.  Again, I should have negotiated a price at the beginning.  Lesson learned.

I changed into my suit, and we headed out again, stopping at the souvenir shop that had the replicas (and flag pins!).  I wanted three replicas, but they were completely overpriced, and there was no room for negotiation, nor did they take cards.  Haiti is very much a cash-driven economy, as evinced by the abundance of banks and dearth of ATMs.  In fact, I was shocked to see as we drove that there were so many small banks, along with auto part shops and barbers.  I wound up getting two statues and a flag pin and, once more, I was almost out of cash again.  I would have enough to get a taxi from the airport to my hotel, but that was it.  I would need another ATM.  The total expenditures for the trip were reasonable enough, but my fear relates to being locked out of the ATM once my bank starts questioning all of these ATM withdrawals in Haiti.

The check-in process and security at the airport was extremely quick, and I was in the departures lounge with half an hour to spare.  I asked myself how I would have used that half an hour if I spent longer at the Citadel, but I had no need for it.  The plane soon arrived, and it was a tiny propeller plane with only 7 rows.

When we boarded, I realized just how small it was, a total of 21 seats, and they didn’t even have flight attendants.  The flight was over almost as soon as it began, and, when I got to the arrivals hall, I was asked if I needed a taxi.  This time, I negotiated the price first.  It was a bit of a challenge to find my hotel, and, when I got there, they couldn’t find my (prepaid) reservation.  I refused to give them any money, and eventually they just checked me in.

I settled in and took a bit of nap before heading out.  I had my flag pin already, and I figured the airport would be my best hope for souvenirs, so only one thing mattered today: Parliament.  One of the agents at reception told me he could take me to Parliament, and we stopped at an ATM on the way.  As we drove, we passed by the stands of vendors that I suppose are the Latin American equivalent of a bazaar or shuq.  I’ve seen them before, but I never gave much thought to it.  That is where people by clothes and food and electronic supplies.  It seems that almost every developing country in the world has some version of it.  What they did not have were souvenirs.

We got to Parliament, but it was gated off.  I was devasted.  This was like El Salvador all over again.  Fortunately, a small bribe allowed me to walk around the parking lot and take pictures of the back of the building.  It wasn’t the angle I wanted, but I found a spot where I could get a properly-framed photo, and the driver said we could come back tomorrow morning if I still wanted to see the front.  I took my ceremonial picture, and I made my pronouncements.  “Haiti Complete.  Hispaniola Complete.  Greater Antilles Complete.  North American Caribbean Complete.  North American West Indies Complete.”  I then added, “Iceland, I’m coming for you.”

I posted my collage of all 13 West Indies national legislative assembly buildings as we drove back to the hotel, and then I went straight for dinner, not having had lunch or, in fact, a single bite to eat since 7 AM, which was 10 hours earlier.  I was also chasing daylight and wanted to get this establishing shot before dusk.

It was a rushed meal, but I had kibby (fried meatballs) for an appetizer and fried pork and plantains for my main course, along with the local beer.  I got another beer to go and raced up to my room as twilight rapidly faded.  I then sat down outside and lit up my 2012 Christmas Pipe.  My driver from earlier was with me, and he complimented the pipe.  I told him it was handmade in Italy and that it was a Christmas present from my mother, all true.  I did not tell him that it was the same pipe I smoked on New Year’s Day in Quebec and Antarctica and Taipei and at the Sydney Airport or that it was the same pipe I smoked in Ephesus as I stared out at the site of the Temple of Artemis in the distance, also all true.  Either way, Port-au-Prince is a nice addition to that list.  (I should actually properly list these datelines out for each Christmas Pipe so that I have that at hand.)

I then paid him for his services this afternoon, which, again, was more than I expected, but it was worth it.  He got me to Parliament.  After he left, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and post my photos before I collapse, though I suppose I do need to get some dessert and coffee at some point.  It is only 7 PM now, and tomorrow will be a day for celebration as I make the Return Journey.