Rosy Cliff Dwellings

Rosy is Roosevelt Lake's nickname; the cliff dwellings themselves aren't rosy at all.  They're (relatively) easy to access via a steep, half-mile, paved trail that starts at the Tonto National Monument visitor's center.  A fee is charged for trail usage: $7 per person.  However, if you're a senior citizen with an OFP (Old Fart Pass), it's free.  Eat your heart out, you young whippersnappers!

Below, Trish pauses on the trail to the cliff dwellings to do her classic Lewis and Clark pose, pointing out the route ahead.  Actually, she's pointing at a saguaro cactus with several, downward-pointing arms, fairly low to the ground.  She dubbed it the Hula Skirt Saguaro.

Up close and personal, the dwellings aren't that impressive but do have one hell of a view.  That's Lisa in the picture below.

Below, David, wannabe building inspector, critically examines the structural integrity.

The shot below was taken from the parking lot of the visitor's center at 10X zoom.

The Salado Indians built and occupied the dwellings around 1250.  200 years later, they abandoned the site.  Why?  Nobody knows.  The reason may have been climate change, rendering them unable to continue growing their crops.  Or, it could have been encroachment from more aggressive Indian tribes.  Where did they go?  Nobody knows.  If you happen to be a long-lost member of the Salado Tribe, perhaps you could enlighten us?

Roosevelt Lake, AZ

Roosevelt Lake is a 22-mile long reservoir on the Salt River, 40 miles northeast of Phoenix.  Trish and I, along with friends David & Elaine, Terry & Lisa, set up camp there for 3 days last week.  Tom, a fraternity brother who lives in Casa Grande, joined us for one night.  We were near the marina, good privacy, quiet, with a lovely view of the Lake and surrounding mountains.  Our rigs are pictured below.

At one time, Roosevelt Dam was the highest masonry dam in the world, and Roosevelt Lake was the largest man-made lake in the world.  That time is long gone.  The dam was built in 1906-11, cost $1 million, was dedicated by Teddy himself in 1911.  It was renovated and expanded 77' upward in 1989-1996 at a cost of $430 million.  Inflation, you know.

Concurrently with the dam renovation, a new bridge was built just above the dam.  At 1080' in length, it's the longest single-span, steel-arch, two-lane bridge in North America.  Before the bridge was built, the road went across the top of the dam.

Dateline Egypt, Part 5

There's no lack of attractive women in Egypt.  And there's no lack of women who want to escape the sexist, super-restrictive life style they're forced to endure in that Muslim-dominated country.

I was one of five long-term, single guys working on the wastewater project in Alexandria in the early 80s.  I'm the only one of the five guys that returned to the States without a native wife in tow.

Were I of the female persuasion, I too, would be desperately seeking a way out.  Here's how it was for women:
1.  Any single woman not living with her parents was considered a whore.

2.  No single woman could be seen in public with a single man unless there was a chaperone along.

3.  On the day after a wedding, blood stained sheets had to be displayed outside as evidence the bride was a virgin.  Got ketchup?

Boys will be boys.  Girls will be girls.  Hormones will be hormones.  Imaginative ways around the restrictions were widely known and widely practiced.  It was, presumably still is, nothing but a sham, keeping up appearances.

Muslims don't drink?  Bullshit.  Muslims don't mess around before marriage.  More bullshit.  Anything goes as long as it's not done in public.  I have a dim view of religion in general.  Although some followers toe the line, hypocrisy seems to run rampant.  In countries like Egypt where there's no separation of church and state, hypocrisy reigns supreme.

Yes, I dated an Egyptian woman.  A Coptic, not a Muslim.  Sharp as a tack.  Educated in England, had a masters degree, spoke 4 languages, ran a travel agency.  She was an excellent tennis player, often beat me in singles.  Coptic or not, she had to adhere to the ridiculous moral code described above, and understandably, wanted to get the hell out of Dodge.

She suggested a marriage of convenience but I wasn't up for it.  I was recently divorced, had no desire to remarry - even if it was supposed to be temporary.  I advised her to reconnect with another expat she had dated before me.  I knew the man, an agriculture specialist/advisor.  Good guy.  He had returned to the States a few months before she and I hooked up.  She took my advice, ended up marrying the guy and made good her escape.  Last I heard, they had two kids and were living in South America, where he had another agricultural gig.

Trash Talk

Trash talk: boastful and intimidating comments made to one's opponent(s) in a game or sport.  Mohammed I'm-the-Greatest! Ali  was the trash talk poster child.  I think of it as banter - lighthearted and humorous.  Pickleball players trash talk a lot, part of what makes the game fun.

Now that I've lead you astray with a false start, I'll divulge the real subject of this post: trash.  As in garbage, solid waste, refuse.  Well, that's not really it either, but we're getting close.  It's recycling, specifically 'single stream recycling.'  Folks who live in large metro areas are probably familiar with the term; small town dwellers and rural folks, probably not.  I just got up to speed myself because my home town just started doing it.

I'm a strong believer in recycling, been hauling stuff to recycle centers for decades.  No more.  Now, it all goes into a large container, unsorted, and dumped into a truck.  How the devil do they sort and separate such a mixed bag of stuff? you ask.  Okay, maybe you didn't ask, but I did.  The answer is MRF: Materials Recovery Facility.  MRFs are huge buildings that contain a series of conveyor belts to transport materials to a variety of sorting devices that use gravity, magnets and condensed air for sorting.  Here's a picture of one.

It's not 100% automatic, does require some hand sorting.  It's not 100% efficient either.  Critics maintain that pre-sorted recycling results in a lot less landfill material than single stream recycling.  Broken glass is the main culprit.

Here's a video that explains how the materials are sorted.
https://youtu.be/7CFE5tD1CCI

It's entirely possible that a blog post on single stream recycling may not be the most exciting post ever, highly doubtful it'll go viral.  Whatever.  I thought it was interesting.

Rosarito, Baja, Mexico

Guess this isn't the self-defrost model.  Nor the self-fix model.  Wait, it gets worse!

The villa is advertised as being the largest on the Baja.  At 7500 SF, I don't doubt it.  Ad also said it slept 21 people, don't doubt that either - but there were only 6 of us.  Although the long weekend getaway was my treat, I didn't choose this place, would have been happy with something much smaller.

The villa was built by a gringo couple over a period of 3 years, 2005-8, but given it's current condition you'd think it was at least 30 years old.  The husband died awhile back.  The widow moved to a smaller place nearby and let the property go to hell: zero preventive maintenance, zero repairs, apply a band aid, forget it. 

It looks quite impressive from a distance, has a great view, nice patio.

We soon discovered the furnace didn't work.  Heat was critical, temps in the mid 40s at night, and several windows that were so corroded they couldn't be closed.  Big fireplace in the living room, but damp firewood, no kindling.  We got a fire going eventually but the chimney didn't draw well (yes, the damper was open), the place filled up with smoke and we had to open several doors to air it out.  What little heat was generated by the fire went out the doors with the smoke.

We called the owner, who arrived shortly, along with a young Mexican couple who finally got the furnace going.  I pointed out the iced-up fridge to the owner: she didn't respond, didn't bat an eye, was obviously aware of it, didn't give a shit.  End of day 1.

Below, two sons at sunset.

On day 2, we discovered the stove didn't work, called the owner.  Then, it was the barbecue, called the owner.  Furnace stopped working, called the owner.  At $400 a night, I expected better.  Silly me.

The surf was big and loud.  No beach, just rocks.

Despite all the hassle, we enjoyed the getaway.  It was all about the people anyway, having a nice long visit with my 2 sons who live near San Diego.  We watched the football playoffs, me whining a lot about the lousy performance of my home state team, the Vikings.

It took us 1.5 hours to return to the States via the Tijuana border crossing, constantly pestered by vendors of every kind of beverage, food and artifact one could imagine.

I won't be returning to Mexico any time soon.

Go With The Flow

I'm working on a set of 3 paintings for our bedroom wall, a large one in the middle, with smaller ones on either side.  This is the first one.

 

Dateline Egypt, part 4

Egyptians don't do lines.  They're into flocks and herds and clusters.  Wait in line until it's your turn?  Unheard of!  Join the herd and see if you can out-shout your herd mates.  If you holler loud enough - and the amount of currency you're waving wildly above your head is large enough - you may be called up to the counter next.  Bribes and kickbacks spell corruption in Western countries.  In Egypt and throughout the Mideast it's a way of life, business as usual.

This no-lines tradition extends to driving.  The main drag heading into downtown Alexandria had 6 lanes, 3 lanes of traffic going each way.  At stoplights, drivers who were several cars back from the front, boogied on over to the left and filled up the incoming lanes.  And, across the intersection, oncoming drivers did the same.

So, 6 lanes of cars facing each other.  When the light turned green it was one big game of chicken., horns blaring, drivers shouting obscenities at each other.  Actually, I just assume they were shouting obscenities; I don't speak Arabic.  Given the tone and volume however, I doubt they were asking to borrow a spoonful of Grey Poupon.

Another delightful habit was driving at night without headlights.  It was considered rude to have your headlights on at night.  This wasn't a problem in town where there was adequate ambient light to see oncoming vehicles, but in the country it was a different matter.  The custom was to keep your lights off until you were a few hundred feet from the oncoming vehicle, then flash your lights on and off to alert the oncoming driver.  Makes a lot of sense, huh?  Suddenly blind the oncoming driver with your lights, scare the crap of him, proceed onward at a closing speed of 120+  MPH.  Asinine!

Your average Egyptian driver appeared to have the emotional maturity of a 2-year old.  Here's one for you.  Heading downtown for a negotiation session with a City official one afternoon, we saw a small sedan bounce off the front right side of a fully loaded bus.  The bus driver turned his steering wheel to the right and returned the favor.  The little sedan reciprocated.  And on it went.  Mile after mile.

Another time I witnessed 2 cars meet, head on, in a narrow alley.  They both sat there for several minutes, revving their motors, honking their horms.  Finally, one guy turned off his engine, got out of the car, sat down on the hood and glared at the other guy.  Other guy, not to be outdone, followed suit.  Although I was curious about the final outcome, I didn't have time to hang around.  I wonder if they're still there in the alley, glaring at each other until, finally, one of them keels over dead and reaps his 72-virgin reward.

Forgive me for bringing religion into it, don't mean to offend anyone, but haven't you wondered where they get all those virgins?  Do the math: every day, thousands of believers die honorably.  You'd need at least a million virgins in the holding tent at all times.  Plus, you'd need several thousand eunuchs to guard the virgins from those who already have their 72-virgin quota, but were issued 6 dozen toothless old spinsters and want to trade up.  And you know eunuchs, always bitching about their lack of career choices, cranky as hell.  Talk about a major HR nightmare!  Allah, I don't envy you your job.