Tripping Along The Road

Recently we took a road trip to the Karchner Caverns not far from Tucson.  It's an interesting drive where the signs warning of dust appear only minutes before the dust.  It rises up in a curtain along the edge of the stark desert mountains and blankets the fields in a fog of dust.  We get past the dust and the scenery seems to flip every ten miles or so from rolling hills to rough foothills and desert cactus to fields of cotton and back again.

Finally we arrive at Karchner Caves.  The caves were discovered not that long ago in what looks to me to be more a large hill than a mountain.  As the tour began outside the caves, I didn't expect much as the tour guide kept encouraging audience participation like you do in grade school but as the tour progressed her off key humour became just part of the entertainment of the tour, and was eclipsed by the cave.  We only had time to see one but it was gorgeous.  The park was adamant at protecting them and we could take nothing in, unfortunately not even a phone or camera, nothing.  So there are no pictures, except this at the entrance, which we took as we were leaving and as you can see, that didn't turn out.  The caves though were well worth the visit.  Unlike the Mulu Caves in Malaysia where my latest book Suspect Witness is set, these caves had a tour guide, a concrete path and lights that worked!  So there was a lot more to see.  The stalagmites and stalactites were gorgeous, and with the inclusion of a guide, we learned a lot.  But with no pictures you'll have to take my word for it.

Then it was off to Tombstone.  We debated going there, we'd rather have gone to Bisbee but it was
already early afternoon.  So knowing that Tombstone would be a tourist attraction that we'd only spend a few hours at, we headed there.  Bisbee is a longer trip, probably a full day and one we'll have to make for another day, or year.  Our vacation time is rapidly running out!

But on to fun stuff.  In Tombstone I got a chance to try to
fire a pistol and plug holes into my target.  It was a messy "kill" as the poor man took six shots to the chest area but none hit the heart.  "Is he dead?" I ask the shop owner who had given me instructions on how to cock and fire.  "Yep," he replies and I smile and hand him his pistol as I glance one more time at my one-dimensional foe.

From there we headed over to Tombstone Cemetery.  The graves are neatly piled with rocks, some
are unknown and others have names and stories behind them.  It's definitely a cemetery built for tourists but they claim it's real, and maybe it is.  It's definitely worth a stroll through.

On the way back we were stopped by a Border Patrol checkpoint.  The author in me was intrigued and was anticipating what they might ask or do - would they search our truck, demand our passports - all of this would be great info for further blogs, stories, who knows.  So we stopped, DH rolled down the window and the questions started:

"Are you American?"  Border Patrol asks.

"No.  Canadian."  DH replies.

"Go ahead."  Border Patrol responds and steps back waving us forward.

"That's it?" I ask as we leave the check point behind.  I suspect only an author would want just a bit more drama in her day.

Meantime it's time to head for home for a well earned Margarita and maybe a hot tub - life isn't so bad here on the road.

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com

In the Closet

It's been a strange "winter getaway" this year.  I've kind of been numb over all the events that happened in the weeks before we left.  Thank goodness for the wedding, it was the only event that gave us any warning ahead of time and the only one that goes without saying, was happy.  I was best person and witnessed a good friend marry the woman of her dreams.  It was the perfect remedy for the two funerals that bracketed the "wedding of the year," as was the vacation that followed.  It's the vacation that I've already blogged about in earlier posts.  But here's the inside scoop on our Arizona vacation.

Arizona was a trip we made the last few years to escape at least some of the early months of wind,

cold and snow, that chilly fall "slide into" winter.  It's a time when it seems that even the furnace can't keep the damp away.   Although we would have loved to explore further afield, our trusty Irish Terrier was beginning to show signs of age and really wouldn't have done well in a kennel.  So instead he rode in luxury with the backseat raised and thick padding on the floor where he could snooze between rest stops.  With his travel bag beside him and content from the inevitable treat he received from the customs officer as we crossed the border, he was settled in for the trip.  It worked out well, we got our vacation and he got to come along.  In fact, we'd expected that he would travel with us again this year but we found out a few weeks before departure that that wasn't to be.  So we're missing our little Irish this year.

Meantime, we're halfway through our time in Arizona and the house we're staying in is feeling a bit like home - a home away from home.  But it only has two bedrooms and no den so when a friend came to visit, the spare bedroom I was using for office space was no more and I moved - literally, into the closet.  Fortunately it's a walk in closet off the master bedroom.  Unfortunately, its proximity is right next door to the bathroom and adjacent to the shower.  Not exactly plush surroundings as my laptop must be slid just so under the lower bar normally meant to hang clothes and I have to push the chair back carefully to miss my half open suitcase.  Yes, I've been here a month and still I haven't completely unpacked.  But in another month we'll be heading home, so now I call my state of unpacking, a time saving measure.  

Now the spare bedroom is again free but I'm beginning to like my time in the closet.  Maybe I'll stay for another week or two, or three.

Where do you do your best work?

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

Through the Looking Glass

I've never had to seek out dental care out of country before but this time a broken tooth left me no choice.  I discovered that in Arizona dental prices vary wildly, in fact one quote was twice the price of where I finally got the work done.  So, after saving all that money I decided to cash in on their teeth whitening deal.  Yes, there are the week's deals painted on the window - something you'd never see at home because there are no deals.  Now, my smile is whiter, I've seen three episodes of Storage Wars, whether I wanted to or not, and I've survived another trip to the dentist.  

Later in the week, while at a shop trying to mail the last contest prize to the winner in England I ran into a few small problems.  I should have known right off that there would be trouble from the fact that the clerk greeted me with a pained expression and clearly had better things on her mind than anything I might propose.  So it began, first it was the gel pen that smeared on the envelope's plastic surface.  I asked for a label to cover the smeared address and the clerk stuck her finger on the address and smeared some more, I assume to ensure my claim that it needed a new label at all was valid.  Sigh.  It took a few more minutes, despite looking at the label a few times and my asking for overseas prices to get this to London, for her to realize that the package was going to England.  That caused a lengthy discussion with her co-worker, a massive amount of typing and various pained expressions before she determined that sending a small envelope holding one paperback book to England would cost a little less than one hundred dollars.  At that point there was the distinct feeling that Alice and the looking glass might be standing beside me.  So, twenty minutes later with mailing my package a failed mission, and biting my tongue down to a fine art - I left with plans to visit the United States post office on Monday.  From what I found online, their rates are more in the realm of reason.

So enough of dentists and over-priced postal options, it was off to golf at a local course in Gilbert .  It's an easy course but an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon.  The only ones rushed are the ducks and other birds, and even they don't put too much effort into getting off the green and back to the water as we approach.  

After golf we stopped for something to eat at Uncle Bear's.  Uncle Bear was, so the story goes, a dog.  And the walls in this casual chain restaurant are papered with dog pictures.  Which is fine, I love dogs.  However, having just lost my beautiful Rourke what I wasn't prepared for was not the wall of pictures of dogs but what was in the middle, a picture of a pet cemetery.  Then I noticed that some of the dog pictures had RIP's and dates.  I was looking at a dog graveyard!  Needless to say, I ate with eyes fixed on anything but that wall.  What are the odds - and, really... who came up with that idea for a restaurant?

But what's really defined this week are the scorpions.  Two of them so far - one at the beginning of the week that wasn't much bigger than a centipede, a Canadian centipede anyway - and the second just yesterday.  Both met a squashy end but I'm beginning to shake shoes out and put them on every time I head outside.  No more, barefoot into the garage and, call me paranoid, but they're nasty and I'm not taking the trash to the bin at night either.  

Travel is always an adventure, nothing is what you expect and that's the fun of it all.  Better yet, it looks like it's going to be a nice day here in the San Tan Valley. 

Enjoy the remainder of your weekend.

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

  

I Almost Went On a Hike

The other day we headed out of the city and toward Arizona's Superstition Mountains and possibly a trail or two.  No, we weren't going hiking although I've made noises about doing that one day but dressed in a sundress and sandals isn't exactly in the smart hikers guide.  I suspect that guide might also state that you people who live in cities far away from desert terrain should stay well on the path.  But fortunately, there's a lot of well-marked path, enough to walk a quite a way up the trail - some of it is even concrete and blends into the reddish hue of the desert like it was as natural as the rock and sand around it.  I can't help but think as I'm surrounded by the harsh beauty of the Superstition mountains, how easy it is for hikers to lose their way and even their lives in this range.

It's a wildly beautiful place.  It's here where the legend of the lost Dutchman gold mine comes from and where people still come to search for the wealth it promises.  It's awesome hiking terrain but no place for the amateur or the unprepared.  So I'm sticking to the path but next time, I think I might come a little more prepared and try hiking some of those easier trails.

There's a little place here called the Superstition Mountain Museum and I've probably blogged about it on previous posts last year or maybe the year before.  But it's well worth at least one stop, to get a feel for the area and it's history and explore the gift shop with a plethora of local authors writing on the stories that emerge from the stark beauty of the mountains that surround them.  When nature tires you, although I'm not sure how it could, there's all sorts of jewellery and local handicrafts.

And, with my first Harlequin Intrigue's release only months away, if you're interested in up-to-the-minute news, happenings, contests and more - not offered elsewhere, signup for my newsletter.  Just send an e-mail to me at ryshia@ryshiakennie.com and put newsletter in the subject line.

Ryshia
ryshia@ryshiakennie.com

Just a "little" off the Beaten Path

A drive in the San Tan Valley the other day took us from the city to the countryside and it was only a matter of turning right instead of left.  Turn left and you head into the city, right and you're immediately in farm land, and on open road with quaint and unique at every turn.  

First up there's Cherie's Salsa.  Selling on the side of the road isn't uncommon here.  In fact we just passed a sign advertising Fresh Tamales hot out of the back of a truck.  But it is another cardboard sign that we're watching for.  Cherie's Salsa proudly advertises on a roadside sign just ahead of her SUV that has  the hatch thrown open and a gaggle of friends gathered around keeping her  company.  It's definitely worth pulling over and getting some of the best Salsa we've found so far in the valley.   Cherie admits to being up at two a.m. stirring up some of this fabulous salsa.  She's upgraded from a year or so ago when we first found her and she told me this was a temporary thing.  Now she has a business card and a presence on Facebook. 

From there we headed further into the countryside and find, what a surprise in the land of snowbirds, more snowbirds.  These snowbirds appear to be hardier than most for they're settled in on a barren tract of desert in RV's of all sizes right down to an Airstream no bigger than what most would camp in.  With few amenities, it's unique but I can't imagine what one would do on a blistering Arizona afternoon with only cactus and a view of the mountains to keep you company.

A little further down the road a small but quaint, bright red building stands out on the edges of a bone dry parking lot.  The Mexican Meat Market isn't a place I'd consider shopping at but DH discovered it a few days ago.  I'm glad he brought me along this time for the store itself is like I've travelled just a little further afield than Arizona and stepped foot into the heart of Mexico.  The store is alive with conversation spoken in rapid fire Spanish and foreign smells that are pleasant yet unfamiliar, permeate the place.  There's only two short aisles and they're crowded with familiar and not so familiar products.  I'm drawn to the cooler where Arizona Iced Tea occupies most of the shelves.  And I'm amazed at all the flavours.  Who knew that Arizona Iced Tea comes from Brooklyn, not Arizona, or that there are many more than the two types shipped north!  I happily went home with the regular and a Mango flavoured as well as a strawberry.  I hesitate at the pecan and bubble gum popsicles but manage to resist.  And the Carne Asada we came for  - delicious.  

Next door to that in this lonely dusty parking lot fronted by rural landscape and rough trailer homes - was a pizza place.  Dust coloured it seemed to sink into the desert lot that surrounded it.  Unfortunately, there's no picture for as we left, what I assume might have been the owner was out with his barbecue in the middle of the dusty parking lot, keeping an eye on us and what he was cooking.  I suspect pulling out my camera might not only have been an invasion of privacy but confirmation of the fact that we were just as shady as he seemed to suspect.  Really, we weren't.  But that aside, you know where we're going to check out pizza and beer on our next journey... turning right - not left.

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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Stand Back - It's a Canuck

Been spending a few weeks south of the border, escaping at least part of the long winter I know is waiting for me.  Crossing one border usually isn't too much of a culture shock.  The States are similar to Canada in a large number of ways and in just as many, they're not.

So today I went to the UPS store to see if there was any way I could settle a mailing issue.  Note to self - you can't get mail if you don't have a mailbox.

Anyway, in the course of the discussion, one clerk looks at the other and says
"Well, that confirms it.  I knew the area code was somewhere in Canada but the accent, didn't you hear it?  Canuck."   She looks at the other clerk with satisfaction and then turns to smile at me.  I think I recoiled in horror, okay not quite but: 

A - no one has ever said I have an accent.  It's all of you I say - not me. 
And B - Canuck, no one has ever called me that either - ever. 

I was reminded that I'm a person of interest, a foreigner. I was one of those people, the ones I meet on planes, in other countries, in public transport - just everywhere.  People with stories that are different from mine.  They're fascinating and I'm their worst nightmare because I want to hear all about them. 

Now I'd become one of them.  One of the others - the one with the accent.  I mean it's easy to feel foreign when you're traveling in a country where your native tongue is not theirs and where the customs are radically different from yours.  But here the similarities run as close as the disparities.  So, no, I wanted to say - it's you, you have the funny little accent not me.  No, the look the clerk laid on me said it all - it was me.

Me?

A fraction of the price at home.

Sure I knew I was in a foreign country.  I'm reminded every day.  Retail shops alone are a good reminder.  Like the other day when I was gawking at the Canadian Whiskey disbelieving of the price.  Of course, I'm disbelieving of the price of any liquor south of the border but this one in particular.  Made in Canada, it sat here thousands of miles from its manufacture point marked at a price that can only be called extraordinarily cheap - possibly even giving it away, cheap.  And the day before that I scoured the dairy section looking for cream and only seeing artificial creamer.  At home, it's parked by the milk and it comes in a cardboard container, which I have since found it does here too but it's buried beneath a massive selection of creamers.  Anyway, maybe I should have taken those and any number of other clues that, not only was I foreign, but I just might just be the one with the accent.

So with that reality check I headed off down the road.  There we stumbled on the salsa lady, selling out of the back of her van by the side of the road.  Unemployed temporarily she said after greeting me with a cheery hello that she hurled at me long before we were in speaking distance.  After getting my salsa she offered her e-mail address in case I should like the salsa and she wasn't at her usual roadside haunt.  I did.  Will definitely be e-mailing her for more.  Fortunately, except for spelling issues - I think e-mail is relatively universal.  No accent there.  

So now it's off to the family selling tamales and fruit of all kinds at another roadside stand.  We left
with a bagful of fruit - 12 limes for a dollar!  Unheard of in Canada or at least the corner I'm from - not the limes, the price.  The tamales, well we'll be back for a roadside lunch one day soon.

It was a day of moments that would never have happened at home because, wait for it - I'd be shoveling snow and thinking of past trips and future stories.

And one last word on the accent thing - you will never, ever, hear me say that one dreaded word - eh.    Because well,  there was that classic Canadian throwback to the eighties, Bob and Doug McKenzie ... enough said.

Ryshia

 

Travel away to Borneo where murder and romance steam up the jungle - 

Fatal Intent on sale for .99 cents at most online retail book outlets.

 

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