Many, many, many Europeans raved about the war museum and how great it was. I found this surprising considering the generally high quality of museums in major European countries.
The museum was meh. I write this not just because I’m a good patriotic Rah-Rah-Rah! American but because the museum really was just sub-par.
I know the context, the back story, all the other things going on, but none of the European (or Australian) visitors did, context that was needed but not provided.
Plus, there just wasn’t that much.
When I first got into Saigon, the weather was nice. Did some wandering. Did some picture taking.
Sage, before it has been dried, made as part of a recipe for sage sausage stuffing, where the sausage is made from scratch.
This is the sage before it has been dried.
The car was an unexpected and pleasant find. The meeting slash tour was middling. The drive was interesting and I got paid for the whole thing, from mileage to my time. (I was working at the Elko Daily Free Press.)
It all worked out.
I trailed behind a government (Bureau of Land Management, AKA, BLM) and public caravan out to a site near Goshute, marked as one of the horse management areas. Shortly off from us, the pinyon and juniper were thinned. This, as a BLM guy explained, was one of their projects: cut down the P&J.
The entire visit was predicated on the idea of putting up a giant fence to keep the horses in their zone.
(Since it would go over mountains, rivers, streams, everything, etc., it was vaguely reminiscent of the fence on the border.)
On the way back, I stopped off when I saw the Car near Goshute.
On a hot August day in 2011, we headed to the Lake. (Lake Tahoe.)
Armed with a 30-pack of Miller Genuine Draft, (MGD) we parked way on the side of the road and hiked down to the beach. We used the lake’s own temperature to keep our beer cool.
It’s a normal 12-ounce can. That’s just refraction. Refraction and a minnow.
When I first moved to New Mexico, to work at the Rio Grande SUN, I lived with four other people, two dogs and one cat in a converted warehouse in Santa Fe.
I soon decided to make the jump to Española. Once I did, and settled in to my chosen surrounding community, I noticed the graveyard. The graves are decidedly of one flavor or the other. Either, those who lived into, at least, their 80s, or those who died in their 20s or before.
The descanso for Danny E. Chavez. On a county road in Chimayó, New Mexico. Taken in Spring, 2014. Two of two.