Santa Barbara, California

We drove up to Santa Barbara one day to meet Carl at the Train station. He was coming home from Cal Poly for Thanksgiving weekend and we met him halfway. His train was caught in traffic, so we had 30 minutes to walk around the area. So this is what we saw in the 4 block walk from the Amtrac Station.



This is a postcard I bought at this little wharf. Stearn's Wharf is a fairly short wooden wharf with some restaurants, shops, and a museum. We had just enough time to take a walk to see it.


The neighborhood is in transition. Some businesses have closed up and the buildings are vacant. In one vacated restaurant that once had a nice outdoor patio, I saw this big plaster head, sitting behind a padlocked gate. I don't know anything else about it. It was just weird enough for me to snap a photo of it.



The beach bums here are creative. They set up collection spots on the sand below the wharf. Its a great idea. I never put coins in a pan handlers cup if he's standing there holding it. But, if he's nowhere to be seen, and he has a little sign challenging you to hit the target with your coin, I'll fish out my change and toss them off the wharf down to the bullseye below, over and over again, until I hit it.


There were two coin toss set ups in the sand that day.



Halfway through our stroll, we spotted this plaque commemorating an awful fire that destroyed the wharf several years back.


It was too late to check the place out, but this looked like an interesting museum. I was intrigued by the name, Ty Warner. Is he the guy of the Ty Beanie Baby Craze?


Here is Jerome at the famous Dolphin sculpture at the entrance to the Stearns Wharf.



At the entrance to the candy store, they had a cage, and in the cage was a odd feathered thing. Its bowl was filled with taffy. A closer look revealed it was a Tasmanian Taffy Turkey. Never heard of the strange creature. But it didn't look like the kind of turkey you'd cook for Thanksgiving.

Jerusalem, Western Wall

One very important place to visit in Jerusalem is the Western Wall. The Western Wall is the visible remnant of a retaining wall that long ago supported the 2nd Temple, which was built by King Herod. This was the final Temple, the one where Jesus visited, the one that was ultimately destroyed by the Romans in 70 a.d. Since this is the visible reminder of a once huge and awe-inspiring place of worship, people of today who revere the Judeo-Christian tradition find this a noteworthy place to visit.


Jerome, Carl, Grandpa and I with the Western Wall in the background. The Western Wall is inside the Old City. I think we entered the Jaffa Gate to get here. It was bustling with activity. We soon split up to go to our separate spaces.



This is a good shot of the men's section.


This is the Women's section. It is divided by a long plastic barrier, about six feet high. At first I thought it was odd, the separation of the sexes. Within minutes though, it felt like I entered a prayerful sisterhood, if only for a short time. The tradition for visitors to the wall is for them to write their prayer or petition on a tiny strip of paper, roll it up, and wedge it in the cracks between the giant blocks that make up the wall. A close friend of mine had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and I placed my prayer for her recovery in the wall, too. I noticed that when people finish their prayers and leave the wall, they back away until they are about 25-30 feet away from it. The reason, I found out, is that they believe that God had dwelled in the Temple, and since this is a remnant, if He is still present here, you would never turn your back on God.



Israelis do not have their heads in the sand like we do in the United States. They know that bad guys with ill intent are in their midst, and they are not shy about maintaining a security presence. There were young, well-armed soldiers on patrol at the Wall. I felt safe there.



While standing near the Wall in the Women's section, I looked up and noticed a lone white dove high above us, calmly observing the scene. This biblical symbol of peace was an interesting contrast to the armed soldiers. I mulled this seemingly paradoxical symbolism and wondered what it meant. Did it mean that peace, like the dove, is out of reach? Or did it tell me that where there is strength, and faith, there is also peace? I hope it is the latter.

Conrad

I grew up with lots of pets. My Mom bred Toy Poodles to supplement her income after my father passed away. So we always had lots of little dogs in the house. I learned how to groom them and it turned into a pretty good way for a kid to earn spending money, as most of the people who bought our puppies continued to bring them back for regular clipping. Even after I grew up, and Mom passed away, I continued to groom the now aging poodles that Mom had sold over the years.

When I finally had my own house, I couldn't wait to get a dog of my own. I wanted to try a different breed, though. I had my heart set on a Cocker Spaniel. So I researched the local breeders, and started saving up for my new pet. I discovered, however, that sometimes you don't choose your dog, it is chosen for you. And that is how we got Conrad.



One day, I received a phone call from one of my grooming customers. She worked across the street from the dog pound, and from her office window, she watched a man park at the shelter and get out of his car holding a little red poodle. My customer couldn't bear to see a poodle go to the pound, so she rushed out to stop him. He gave her the dog and told her he and his wife were splitting up and neither could take the dog. My customer told me over the phone that she wanted to bring him over to be groomed, and that if I wanted him, I could have him. If I didn't, she would keep him. She brought him over, and told me his name was Conrad. Now, I wasn't interested in starting over with a Poodle again. I wanted a spaniel. But by the time I was finished grooming him, I knew that this was my new pet.



Of course, once you get one dog, you usually find that they are lonely when you work all night and sleep by day, so we found another free poodle. They can deal with just about anything, as long as they are with their people. Here we are in our house which was being completely ripped apart and remodeled. I was pregnant at the time. And by then, we had 3 poodles.



Conrad was a polite and dignified little dog. He accepted the new baby, and liked to stay as close to the action as possible.



Conrad was a funny dog. He took great delight in hiding from us, sometimes in plain sight. We looked for him for hours before we found him hiding among the weeks-worth of newspapers in the living room. Another time, he crawled between the fridge and the wall and stayed there all day while we frantically searched for him. He also liked to chase skunks, and never seemed to learn that they spray you and that it hurts when they do that. And he also was an excellent climber. He would escape from the backyard and then hide in the front yard. In later years, we would utilize the services of our cat Nala to help us find him when he escaped outside.



Conrad liked story time as much as Carl did.



Of all the Poodles, Conrad was the only one who didn't pull at his leash when we took our daily walks. He was obviously well trained by his first owners. Where the two girls were daffy and hyper and mostly untrainable, Conrad was calm and intelligent. We never really knew how old he was when we got him in 1989. He was at least 1 year old, maybe older. The years went by so quickly, and as his beautiful hair turned from red to almost white, he started going deaf and walking stiffly. He stopped playing his hide and seek game with us in 2001, and we no longer had to worry about him climbing the fence. As he became more weak and feeble, I knew the day was coming when I would have to have him put to sleep. But I just couldn't stand to think about it. I hoped he would just go to sleep on his own, but he didn't. And when he fell over and couldn't walk a few days before halloween in 2003, I knew I couldn't deny it any longer. I waited for Carl to come home from school so he could say goodbye to him. Carl hugged him and tearfully told him he had been a very good dog, and that we loved him. And then I took him to his final vet visit. It was the hardest thing I have had to do.



Conrad lived at least 15 years, which is pretty good. But it went so quickly. The vets office sent me a condolence card and it meant alot to me. Since then the other two have died as well, and I am dogless again. I do want to get another one, and someday I'm sure I will. But I am not seeking one. I have a feeling that one day, when I least expect it, the perfect dog will once again be chosen for me by fate, just like Conrad was. I sure hope so, anyhow. I can't wait to see what I get next time.

Jerusalem, Temple Mount

Known as the Center of the World, the Ground Zero in the coming Last Days. This is the spot that people have been fighting over for centuries. The Temple Mount, with the amazing Dome of the Rock, has changed hands several times since the Biblical days. There are many traditions that have, over the centuries, made this place a mystical, spiritual, and somewhat scary spot, whether you believe in the stories or not. It is not always possible to visit the Dome of the Rock. It depends on the political climate. When we went, there was a relative peace, more like an uneasy truce. Our guide first took us to a hilltop where we could look out over the Mount of Olives, past the ancient cemeteries, to the gleaming golden Dome of the Rock.




From this distance, our guide pointed out that a huge collection of graves have called this hillside home for centuries. The Jewish Cemetery is the graveyard furthest away from the walls of the Old City. This is a resting spot in very high demand, with graves costing up to $50,000. The Moslem cemetery is right outside the walls. Tourists are strictly forbidden from going anywhere near the Moslem graveyard, which has thousands of deceased buried near the Golden Gate, which once opened into the Old City.

Our guide explained the reason why everyone wants to be buried near the Golden Gate. The Jews believe that the Messiah will come to Jerusalem someday, and when He does, He will enter through the Golden Gate, the eastern entryway. At that time, the dead will rise from their graves to follow him to the ground on Mount Moriah where the second temple once stood. When this happens, thats pretty much going to usher in the end of time when the Lion lies down with the lamb, according to Isaiah. And they figure those buried right there in ground zero will be the first ones to join the end of times events.

The Moslems, on the other hand, have their own traditions. They think that Allah's final judgment will occur on the site. When they took control of the site, the Arabs, well-aware of the Jewish belief, promptly sealed the Golden Gate in 810 a.d. They were also aware that graveyard areas were considered unclean for Jewish high priests, and figuring that no Holy guy would want to walk through an unclean graveyard to get to the Golden Gate, they immediately set up a Muslem cemetery to block the Messiah's future entrance to the Old City. I kind of have a feeling that's not going to be enough to stop things from happening, if its part of our world's destiny.

Christians believe that Jesus will re-enter Jerusalem from the east. So, they have a cemetery nearby as well, down in the valley.

At this "Kodak Picture Spot" there was an Arab with his camel. He was selling stuffed camel toys, and old postcards. You could also pay him to get your picture taken with the camel. I liked the contrast between the ancient mode of transportation vs the shiny red VW Beetle parked at the curb. If you notice, the walls and homes are made of the same type of stone. Everything in Jerusalem is made from the same tan-colored sandstone. I think its a rule that buildings use sandstone, much like the rule that every house in Santa Barbara has a red tile roof.


For some weird reason, the man in the photo was fixated on the camel's droppings. Which kind had me fixated on why he was.






Here is a really good perspective of the locations of the cemeteries. The Jewish one is furthest from the Shiny Gold Dome of the Rock. The Moslem one is just outside the limestone walls and the sealed up Golden Gate.



Click on the photo to see a Jewish Family conducting a funeral in their cemetery.



Once we were shown the site from a distance, we were taken to tour the outside of Dome of the Rock. We were given many instructions to follow. We had to have our passports available for inspection. The ladies had to wear long skirts, long sleeves, and show as little skin as possible. We were told that praying, singing, chanting was not allowed. Also, once on the site, we could not touch the opposite sex, or get close to them. Not even your child or spouse. This is because the Moslems, who are patroling the place, get very upset and you could touch off an international incident. We were also forbidden from roaming near the interior area where the sealed up Golden Gate is. The Moslems will not allow anyone there. We nervously but anxiously climbed the steps to set foot upon what is Mount Moriah, where the 2nd temple once stood, where the final judgement is supposed to take place. It was kind of sobering to think of it all.




Here are the guys in front of the Dome of the Rock. This is not a Mosque. It is considered a shrine, the oldest Islamic shrine as a matter of fact.



Here are the girls. I am 2nd from the left. There were many tours there that day. I saw this French 20-something tourist, wearing a tank top, her shoulders only partially covered by a sweater she had tied around her neck, wander close to the entrance of the shrine. I wondered if our guide had just been overly cautious in his wardrobe advice to us, because here was this western girl in western wear nosing around the Dome with nothing happening. Suddenly we heard a man screaming, and then the girl was running, the Moslem man chasing her with a stick and yelling. Her guide had to corral her and then try to make nice with the angry man. I was glad we took our guides advice.



This is as close as Jerome and I could get for a photo without risking the angry Moslem with a stick.




The Dome of the Rock is an absolutely breathtaking structure, with its elaborate Islamic patterns and writing on the outside walls.




And the beautiful Golden Dome. Set against a blue sky, it was a gorgeous sight. Its too bad everyone is so overly sensitive about the area. It could be enjoyed so much by all, if only.....
Well, someday there will be peace on earth, goodwill towards men. And it's supposed to start right here, at the center of the world.

Arroyo Grande California

One of the little towns on Highway 101 that caught my attention recently was the little village of Arroyo Grande, California. This town is 13 miles south of San Luis Obispo. Arroyo Grande is loaded with historic landmarks and museums, like a one-room schoolhouse, and the house of the town's first physician. But the one attraction that I came to see was the Swinging Bridge. The bridge was originally built way back in 1875 by a landowner whose property was divided by the Arroyo Grande Creek. He needed a connection between the residential area and the business district. It sustained extensive damage due to storms and had to be rebuilt and strengthened, but its still there, doing its job. I like this kind of stuff and wanted to go see it.



We had driven Carl back up to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo to begin his next quarter, and were going to make one last shopping trip with him in Arroyo Grande early Sunday morning January 3rd before heading back home. So of course I talked the guys into a quick little side trip to the historical visit. We headed into town with just a general idea of where to find this bridge. Jerome randomly turned right on a little street off the main street of the historic section, and bam! There it was. Almost like he knew where he was going.



I can't imagine a bridge than spans a flowing creek about 30 feet down, without sides. I wonder how many people fell off in 27 years before they made this improvement?



The little bridge is called the swinging bridge. It is the only bridge of its kind in California. After walking across it to the neighborhood on the other side, I think it is better described as a "shaky bridge" than a swinging one. It feels kind of rickety, but that is by design. It has been reinforced over the years and is quite safe. It is a very short bridge. You can walk across and back in a couple minutes. That was all I wanted to see. When we walked back across, I heard a rooster crowing, and wondered aloud, "Who has chickens in this neighborhood?"



I walked along creekside walk toward's a sign that identified the area as Kiwanis Park. This park is more like a natural ravine, heading straight down to the flowing creek. As I neared Kiwanis Park,that's when I saw them. Roosters, coming out from the shelter of the shrubs. I saw one, then another. There were at least 10 of them, all of different types. There was a tall Rhode Island Red, a plucky little Banty, with his distinctive feathered legs, a large and really pretty cream-colored one. All roosters, all crowing. Then I saw the sign, erected at the entrance to this park, forbidding people from dumping their cats dogs, or chickens. This led me to wonder which came first? The chickens or the sign?

I love poultry, having had my own little pet Banty hen back when I was in high school. So of course, I had to take a closer look at the roosters, who were healthy and for roosters, pretty friendly. They had no problem with me getting close to take their picture.



The bridge was interesting, the creek was flowing, the park was green and pretty, but what made me smile were the roosters. If you are ever in the neighborhood, go explore the little historic center. Check out the bridge, and listen for the crowing of the denizens of the Arroyo Grande Kiwanis Park.