Are You That Woman

TRAVEL SCAMS COME IN VARIOUS FORMS

So. Another learning moment in our world of scams and con artists.

Trying to confirm some flight and baggage information on an upcoming flight. I Googled “United Airlines Customer Service”. The number that appeared was 800-864-8331. A young woman, Glory, answered the call. Long story….it was a scam number and not United Airlines. In the process of our call, she told me my return flight had been cancelled. You can imagine the anxiety I felt to hear this since I hadn’t been notified by my travel agent or the airline. I don’t remember the rest of the call, but told Glory I would contact my travel agent and ended the call.

I immediately reached out to my travel agent, Neil Thakur, at Fare Buzz. He was able to check the information and confirm that, in fact, the flight hadn’t been cancelled. The scammed call, Glory, came from somewhere in Cuba. What other information they might have gleaned from me, I don’t know – luckily I didn’t stay on the call or provide any additional personal information.

If you’re traveling and you get a call from the airline telling you your flight has been cancelled – HANG UP! Words of advice from Neil. The airline will never call you. They will either text or email you. This world is full of scumbags looking to take advantage of everyone and everything. They have more time than any of us can imagine. We must be on the alert at all times. And, of course, elderly people are often the easy victims of these scams. You can always check the airline’s website My Trips page to confirm status of future flights. It’s been so long since I’ve traveled by air, this had never occurred to me.

I’ve been working in the travel and tourism industry for most of my professional career. It’s exhausting trying to navigate systems – air travel in particular. It used to be so easy and comfortable. They continue to blame everything on COVID, but the service was starting to decline even before that was an issue. For the first time in many, many years, I used a travel agent. I am so grateful that I did and that they – I should say HE/Neil – have provided the most outstanding customer service and given me valuable information to keep us safe on our journey.

Thank you Neil and Fare Buzz!

Renewal at Blue Sage Ayurveda

The long and winding road was just the beginning. A chance to breathe in and out. To embrace my inner self and reset the internal clock, being nudged to do so. To find that quiet voice. For the first time, in too long, a pen in hand. The sun is warming. A hummingbird greets me every morning drinking from sweet rosemary blossoms. A honeybee buzzing nearby. The joyful sound of water. How blessed to be surrounded by so much beauty. Mountains distant. Manzanitas growing robustly. The many gifts of Buddha. The voice of the wind and a tiny lizard suns itself on a garden temple.

Let me share the journey.

 

Room with a view

A honey bee wards off a much larger carpenter bee. A California scrub jay sips water from a saucer. That crazy mockingbird calls and leaps, the ultimate entertainer. I stretch. My wayward hand elicits sweet notes from the windchimes. 

Each day, rising almost with the sun, I beg myself to say nestled in sleep. But morning waits. Zzxyx is already napping. Nearly 20 years have passed since she was that tiny ball of black fur. I nuzzle her head, scratch under her chin and disturb her morning nap. All part of this blessed interlude. 

Morning is fleeting. I will find her again tomorrow. 

 

December 30, 2018
Sacramento, CA

Tin Box Memories

Memories from my Tin Box of Poetry & Prose. I continue to find the stories scribbled ink on paper. These will be with me always.

An adventure in every way. Traveling to new places, meeting new people, taking part in a piece of Americana - a cattle drive. What else? 

The drive to Bridgeport was fantastic. I had never been beyond Lake Tahoe. Venturing into Nevada and driving through open valleys lined with tumbleweed, surrounded by omnipotent Sierra mountains capped with snow and shrouded by dark clouds. The aspens were a shade of yellow that only unseen powers could create. After passing Lake Tahoe, we dropped down into the Carson Valley - flat and wide-open. The sun was shining on a few chosen spaces. Farther along was Topaz Lake. Just beyond, we crossed back into California. The land was mostly scrub and brush with jagged hills on either side. A small stream, a lovely cascade of water and rocks, shadowed the road. The sky was still cloudy with breaks of sunlight.

The people on the cattle drive have been amazing and made me feel a part of this longstanding gathering. CJ Hadley, a British writer living in Washoe Valley, dressed me out in her suede chaps and her Australian outback coat. Terry Sullivan, a classic cowboy, tied his flowery neckerchief around my neck. With CJ's hat resting on my head, I was transformed into the complete cowgirl. The ultimate show of generosity was CJ letting me ride her horse, Gibson. And so, on our second day on the trail, I rode into Sweetwater Ranch with an extraordinary family of cowboys: Terry Sullivan, David Roundtree, Glenn Allaback, John Ascuaga, and Richard Houle, Chef gone cowboy for a day. We rode on through a majestic valley ringed on all sides by the Sierra Nevada with 900 head of cattle keeping pace.

The next day started with another of Richard's heartfelt meals - steak and eggs, home fries, toast, coffee, and a smile. The world was icy; nighttime temperatures had dipped to a chilly 15 degrees. Bridled and saddled, the horses' tails, manes, whiskers, and eyelashes were tipped in a frosty white. One restless pony pranced feverishly in the corral. Certainly she would not be left out of the day's journey. And she wasn't.

 

 

 

 

 

Wild Rivers Coast: There’s a reason why

The sun was barely breaking through when fog began rolling in across the mouth of the Smith River. Where river and ocean unite – feels holy. Harbor seals, almost ghostly, gaze out across the shallow. A community of cormorants Zen(ly) attempt drying their wings. Brown pelicans and American oystercatchers share the spit. A lone angler casts again and again. He confides it’s been rumored salmon are running better on the Rogue and Klamath rivers. Still, he’s content. I watch with quiet respect and retreat once my camera is satiated.

Some 30 miles away, we walk a considerable sandspit separating the Klamath River from the Pacific Ocean. One more peaceful world, the lone inhabitants strolling or sitting quietly, we reverently contemplate this sacred space. The tide is returning and waves crash to the shore. A swift undertow – the cold water just licks my naked feet as I scramble away.  The Klamath has journeyed far – 263 miles from Southern Oregon – to wed itself to the churning ocean.

 

Morro Bay: Nature Sublime

Inhale. Watch the sun set behind Morro Rock, bark at sea lions, call to a night heron, and walk in silence beside a forest of pygmy oaks.  At every turn, open spaces and environmentally sensitive biomes of extraordinary splendor await.  Miles and miles of nature preserves, state parks, state beaches, and magical places with names like The Elfin Forest elevate Morro Bay’s allure.  From a waterfront perch at the Inn at Morro Bay, only one question emerges, “What next?” Mother Nature worked overtime to create this canvas.  It deserves all your attention.

Turn right out of the Inn’s parking lot. Head for Montaña de Oro State Park toward shoreline and estuary views.  In just a few miles, the road narrows; the “real” world drops away.  Some days are sunny.  Today, fog drapes the hillsides but without diminishing the heightened anticipation to reach Sandspit Beach – a four-mile “ecologically diverse” sand dune area separating Morro Bay from the Pacific Ocean.

One vehicle in the parking lot alludes to a park ranger, nowhere to be seen.  Out of your own four-wheeler, the world is quiet. You zigzag along with the boardwalk, along sensitive dunes dotted with sand verbena and lupine.  A slight rise in the dune and –  suddenly – stillness to crashing waves! A view that thrills you to the bone.

Breathe. One seriously long, deep breath of the fog, the mist, the ocean air.

See. Open your eyes, wide! Really, really wide to an abundance of sand, shore birds, ocean debris, wildflowers, pounding surf. Incredibly, you are the sole inhabitant on this expanse of beach inside Montaña de Oro State Park.  Imagine the coastal Chumash who once called this home.

Step. Follow the footprints – some four-footed – the comings and goings of previous visitors. The tide rushes up and laps at your feet, washing away remnants of your passing and those before you.

Gaze. Scan for signs of life. A troop of curlews hurries in and out of the surf chasing an elusive breakfast.  A band of brown pelicans rises and falls with the light as if on some unseen carnival ride.  Bashful snowy plovers sneak – left, right, left right – over dunes to  protected nesting ground.  A gang of turkey vultures nibble on the carcass of a dolphin, its mouth agape in a petrified smile.  Heartbreaking, still, it is the nature of things and now part of this memory.

Sun and fog debate which will prevail over today’s weather. Fog appears to be winning.  Though a distance away, you linger in hopes that Morro Rock will reappear through the mist. Not to be on this adventure. After a mile on the spit, it’s time to turn back.

A ghostly surfer slips the top of a wave, a solitary figure, as you depart. Exhale.

Top of the World

The Earth.
This place.
A mixture of gold and green
reclaimed by winter rains.
The sky.
Heavy.
A contrast of gray and white.
Sentinel oaks stand watch.
And the wind.
The wind.
Feel it. Taste it.
I stand at the top of the world.
Thankful.

Barbara L. Steinberg
Oakwilde Ranch & Sculpture
November 29, 2014

Rearview Images

As we drive away from snow-crested Sierra,
Images of where we're going
Are not so beautiful as rearview images
Of where we've been.

April 2, 2006

The Dogs

They run and jump
Laugh and smile
Leaping, tumbling
All the while
Free and rambunctious
In the park
I hear the dogs
As they bark.

Barbara Steinberg
Sacramento
April 15, 2008

This is Mexico

These are memories from a journey of just a few years ago. I am hoping for a time to visit again - soon!

Life is quiet in San Miguel de Allende. It's early June and many ex-pats have retreated until autumn. Well above the 6,000-foot elevation and dry, evening brings blessed relief in the the way of cool breezes.

A gentle swing in the garden. The hum of traffic. Occasionally, we hear the sounds of nearby steeples chime and the hammering of construction. Dogs are barking, a lone hummingbird drinks from a pomegranate blossom, and my tequila shot glass is empty.

In the rain forests there is complete silence. The fog is creeping into the mountains. Fireflies are dancing through the darkness. Bugs and birds serenade us during our dinner as daylight retreats behind the peaks. 

Muy bueno!