Travel – Page 7 – Pat the Expat

My Corona(virus)

BLUF (Bottom Line Up Front, lest I be accused of sensationalism): I’m negative for CoVid19. But I am traveling again during the pandemic, and didn’t feel well, and here’s the rest of the story.

Back Saturday November 7th, I woke up with a nagging headache. Nothing serious, no other symptoms than some post-nasal drip, an on-and-off again allergy symptom. The night before, Judy & I hosted our monthly dinner club, which meant I drank more wine and less water than usual. I chalked it all up to tannins and dehydration, drank more water, watched football, ate pizza.

The headache continued and worsened a little, but it was intermittent: I seemed sensitive to light and noise, or sudden movement of my head. but I also went long stretches with no pain at all. By the time for our Tuesday night red-eye flight to O’Hare airport in Chicago, I was steadily taking aspirin powders. No fever, no cough, no other symptoms less the drip.

For my expat amigos, here’s the link for the health screening site you mst complete for any flight in, into, or out of Mexico:

https://afac.hostingerapp.com/?cf_chl_jschl_tk=882858768fd9cbea75413335123ba478ce6c9703-1605540696-0-AbCU3T7aLTDWdn4C_v71-Bm7uKmp7ep77DjEtX7S6JanMxDDapLGJBaVqtCAZKpeGNNTfvyLtHM6dHUNU3QqOFdy0oO0n3OlXD2jee8v8aIhNbKKWgRjrKf04nUZXzNwQoZ1wPoEmQMR3wjdG7h314I-PgvNHAqvbqYUghI7R8zIXOBSx3A9FpFiwIa3ejidCUhf93Z_qE5zeVfQR5-IAykyF8Rg4xB25TVvuwHyd55WGE1UySjzvhy2PUsnVq1mHuQ9HoBkt5nfxy-voIgDD6bEfBr3rgB5EBRwaaUjDgZ5cKNtWIrvoGu9NrXKtaxE3mGdBWYVe0Npfco01U9uYSc3tpOlqhowLmIaEKxkCiBjiJpT8m23Ht3Pnh349dBy4A

Sorry about the length! AeroMexico did a great job segregating passengers to maintain social distance. Then they had us board a bus crammed together for a ride on the tarmac and mosh-pit boarding. *sigh*

Gathering the family clan on Wednesday for early Thanksgiving proceeded apace, but so did my headaches and gradually soring throat. ((Unpaid commercial announcement: early Thanksgiving remains the best new idea since sliced bread! That is all)). Judy convinced me to go to the Walgreen’s minute clinic to see if I could get any relief: in the back of all our minds was coronavirus. Nobody thought I had it, but the potential consequences were severe. We were all together in a home, seeing each other for the first time in months, and about to have a family dinner and get together.

I went to the clinic on Thursday morning. Judy and I talked, and we decided I would not mention my recent travel: the word “Mexico” would lead to an instant suspicion, even though the pandemic is no worse there than in the States. I wanted to avoid even a Covid test, as that introduced the pre-result need to quarantine and the possibility of a false positive.

The Nurse Practitioner got about fifteen seconds into my symptoms and said, “I want to do a Covid test.”

“Is that really necessary” I weakly defended. “No fever, no chest congestion, I feel fine except for the weird headache.”

She interrupted “Do you know what they tell us is the clinical clue to coronavirus? It’s WEIRD. This virus acts weird. It is individual. There is a long list of symptoms, and many people have none, many have one or two, and a few get really sick. And the list of symptoms is the same for colds, flus, sinus infections, you name it. WEIRD!”

Out came the test kit and in went the swab. Lucky for me, they now have a short swab so it doesn’t have to feel like they’re poking it through your brain. However, they do do a roto-rooter motion once up each nostril, so it is still unpleasant and leaves you sore.

And the waiting began: three-to-five days for results. The Nurse Practitioner told me to wear a mask at home and to stay away from my family. That way, if I was positive, their quarantine period would start the day I tested. When we arrived back home, the adults gathered for a family meeting: what to do? I stayed quiet (no really) and let our adult children make the call. They agreed that starting quarantine early was no big advantage, and since I had symptoms for several days, I was probably past peak viral lode, meaning they were already infected or weren’t going to be. They decided I should skip the mask at home and just go about our family reunion/early Thanksgiving as planned. I have to admit I was impressed by their level-headed, common-sense discussion.

My headaches continued and the irritated throat waxed and waned over the weekend. Any sniffle from any family member gave me pause: was that just Fall, or something more?

Fall is beautiful, especially in the morn!

On Sunday our younger daughter and her brood departed for home, not knowing whether she was headed back to work or quarantine. Finally on Monday morning the results came back negative for coronavirus. Today the headache is fading and the throat seems better. All systems go for launch!

Lessons learned?

The implication for even a sniffle during a pandemic. I felt pretty confident I was not positive, but I also understood the medical professional’s position: during a pandemic, treat everything as coronavirus until you can prove it’s not. We’re into fall, and cold/flu season. People will contact those conditions and the default medical response is going to be coronavirus test first, with all the implications.
Knowledge is power. Our kids and their spouses are “up” on the situation, and had a panic-free, rational discussion. If anybody had bought into the hysteria, we would have had to overreact. That is not to conclude Covid isn’t serious business: it is. But adults face serious decisions with concern and care and facts, not emotions.
There’s a song tie in for anything. You knew this one was coming:

This one’s for W

Barrancas del Cobre

So named because the flora in the canyon gives it a copper (oxidized) green hue.

They made the letters in copper color . . . get it?

We stayed at the Hotel Mirador, aptly named as all the rooms lie along the canyon top with balconies overlooking the canyon. Here’s a map to orient you on where we were:

Ahhhh, Chihuahua!

During this trip, we started off off-map in El Fuerte and traveled up the red line (ChePe train) to Bahuichivo. We took a van to Cerocahui, then on to the Gallego overlook of Urique. Next we traveled by van to Posada Barranacas, where we stayed four nights overlooking the canyon. We also took day trips to Creel and to the other named “valleys.” Let me shut up for a moment and let the pictures do the talking:

Our hotel in Posada Barranancas, from the bottom of the canyon

There seems to be a very human need to anthropomorphize physical structures, thus:

Little known fact: Yogi bear retired to Mexico, too!

The Spaniards called it Valley of the Monks. The Raramuri called it Valley of the Phalluses: You decide!

Rorshach test: whole lotta’ monks or phalluses here!

The start of the world’s second longest zip line. Note that there is also a tram line.

I encouraged my fellow travelers who had not done so to take the zip line. It’s safe, and everyone should do something like that sometime in your life. Previously, I jumped out of planes and rappelled down cliffs, among other things. I took the tram. Mis amigos were not amused. 😎

All in all, an amazing eight-day trip. As I told my Spanish teacher, “Cada nueva vista es mas espectacular que la ultima.“(“Each new view is more spectacular than the last.”) A big thanks to our friends who formed our travel pod; a trip is always better when shared with great company! And special thanks to Rosie at Charter Club Tours for arranging, chaperoning, and leading the trip.

Tarahumara or Raramuri?

You say “to-may-to”, I say “to-mah-to.” The Raramuri are an indigenous tribe living–mostly as they always have–in the Sierra Madre range in the Mexican state of Chihuahua. When the Spanish arrived, they dubbed the peoples as Tarahumara. Much like the Mexica people eventually accepted being called Aztecs, the Raramuri (who speak Raramuri and call themselves Raramuri), accepted others calling them Tarahumara. I’ll go with what they call themselves.

The Raramuri peoples were closely associated with the Apache tribe, so much so they consider themselves to be from the same lineage. The Raramuri say that the Apaches were very bellicose, always looking for a fight, while the Raramuri were more peaceful, so the tribes split up. Eventually the Spanish came a knocking and even the Raramuri put up a fight. Spain tried three times without success to “pacify” the Raramuri. Finally, some Raramuri took up the Spanish language and the cross, while the rest retreated into the canyons to continue life as they liked. Over the years, Spanish influence and Catholicism spread, but with a distinct Raramuri flavor.

The Raramuri live a spartan existence with individual homes, often built upon existing caves in the canyon walls. Even those who live in the valleys still insist on subsistence farming and hunting for themselves, gathering together mostly for fiestas and seasonal events. Oh, and running.

I don’t mean “let’s go out and get some exercise” running. Not even marathon running–that’s too short in their opinion. No, I’m talking about the kind of extreme long distance running that makes Forrest Gump look like a weekend jogger. It seems that one of the Raramuri beliefs that survived to the present day is that running helps keep the Earth spinning on its axis (in a spiritual, not physical, sense). So they run. and run. and run. Men, and women, and children, even the elderly (to some extent). Barefoot, or in huarache sandals made with twine and the tread of old car tires. How far do they run? While we were there, Raramuri runners competed in a virtual international race where their top runner ran 429 kilometers, or 268 miles. He only averaged a 15 minute mile . . . for sixty-four straight hours (he didn’t win)!

Three years back, a Raramuri woman entered and won her first race, an ultramarathon of thirty-one miles, wearing a skirt and sandals.

“One of these things, is not like the others”

Running is also the Raramuri way to settle disputes. Have an argument over some land, or a cow? Think someone dissed you, but they don’t think so? Really like that shirt the other guy is wearing? The Raramuri challenge each other in a race which can last more than a day. The two contestants push a wooden ball along with a stick, over mountain and canyon trails, and to the winner belongs the spoils!

If the Raramuri/Tarahumara start to sound familiar to you–and if you ever were a runner, they do–you might have read Christopher McDougall’s book Born to Run, which highlighted the “light-footed” (Raramuri means “light-footed”) people who run on their toes in sandals, which in turn helped spark the barefoot/Vibram running craze.

We didn’t see a lot of running, as the Raramuri aren’t there to perform for you. We did have the opportunity to visit two cave-homes. The first was along a road and supported an extended family of about fifteen people, including giving them the chance to market various goods and natural medicines.

The second was on the top of a cliff, and was owned by an older couple who are so wealthy (!?!?), they have a second cave house down in the valley, where the climate is tropical. So they move back and forth, depending on the season. Cliff side snowbirds, so to speak.

Judy snaps a photo of the canyon while the man of the house arrives

Catalina tidies up since she had visitors, and

she seemed so fond of me Judy had to reclaim me!

Almost all the Raramuri we saw had adopted or adapted to aspects of modern lives. The small farms had satellite dishes, the men wore pants in place of the traditional diaper-like shorts, they hunt with rifles and catch the train to move between towns. But the women still weave pine needles into baskets and wear multiple layers of skirts. And they all still gather to run, just to keep the Earth spinning. So when the Sun comes up tomorrow, think of the Raramuri who ran last night to make it so!

ChePe and Cerocahui

From El Fuerte and the nineteenth century we traveled a short distance to a godforsaken little train station to ride the last passenger train in Mexico: the Chihuahua al Pacifico, or “Che-Pe.” Passenger trains were once legion in Mexico, but they gradually gave way (as in the States) to freight carriers. AMLO, Mexico’s Presidente, has inaugurated the construction of a controversial tourist train in the Yucatan, but who knows if that will ever come to fruition. In the meantime, ChePe is the only game in town. This particular train still moves a few passengers from the coast to the mountains, and locals joke that Che-Pe stands for “always late.” Mostly, this train takes tourists up into the towns of the Sierra Madre, where they can view the Barrancas del Cobre or Copper Canyon.

The train tracks run across some scrub and high sierra desert landscapes before entering into a series of climbs along canyons cut into the mountains by the various tributaries of the Rio Fuerte. Each landscape, tunnel, trestle, and cut is more spectacular than the last. Makes one glad we no longer worry about film but simply shoot the pixels and worry about the good ones later!

On the way up; at the top left, you can see where we later entered a long tunnel after a massive switchback

This being a Mexican train, you can open the windows and hang out. Of course, if you do, you’ll see the various mudslides, overnight arroyos, track and railroad ties lying beside the railway, and of course tunnel walls which whizz by about a meter from your window. Throughout the day, we rose from sea level to eight thousand feet, crossing forty bridges and passing through over eighty tunnels, before arriving in the eighteenth century, more specifically the mission town of Cerocahui.

Cerocahui is even smaller and more rustic than El Fuerte. This town was originally just the site of a cemetery for the Raramuri peoples, when the Jesuits came around and built a mission to evangelize them in the seventeenth century. When Spain expelled the Jesuits in 1767, and the town had to wait on a Franciscan priest to arrive in the 1940s! We’ll revisit the Raramuri in another post.

Cerocahui from a mountain overlook; notice the clouds in the valley in the background to the left

This day we traveled up a scary mining road to a scenic outlook over the Urique valley, one of the canyons forming the Copper Canyon.

Our group & van on the mining road, visiting a Rarumari cave turned into a small store

El Fuerte

The traveling life is back on, masks and all! We’re on a group tour to the Sierra Madre Occidental, specifically to the Mexican states of Sinaloa and Chihuahua. Our first stop is the tiny pueblo called El Fuerte, so called because the Spanish build a fort here in 1610.

El Fuerte is a pueblo magico, a special designation for towns of historic consequence or natural beauty. It certainly has both, as these pictures attest. The historic side is one familiar to those who watched American TV in the 60’s: El Fuerte is the home of the real life El Zorro. Out hotel claims to be the house of the original el Zorro, complete with statue and a tributary room. El Fuerte–built alongside the eponymous river which will feature more in this trip–is a picturesque step back in time to early nineteenth century Mexico. We got a chance to taste one of the two local specialties: black sea bass; unfortunately, the local langostinos are off limits for mating season, so we had to fall back upon regular shrimp. Enjoy the pics!

This mural in the government building gives a short history of the region. Reader’s Digest version: Spanish arrive, everything changes, nobody “wins.”

We’re using El Fuerte to stage higher into the Sierra Madre, before plunging (so to speak) into the Barrancas del Cobre.

Scenes from America

Travelling between visits to my ninety-one year old Dad, brother and sister, and daughters/sons-in-law/grandchildren. Some things I have noticed along the way, which was Chicago to South Bend to Cincinnati to Baltimore and return:

Pandemic restrictions and compliance are everywhere different and distinct. In South Bend, it seems like everyone was wearing masks, except for one family we saw in the Mall. Let’s set the stage. When you enter through the (limited) entrances, you see a sign indicating masks are mandatory, as is disinfecting your hands at a dispensary station. Signs direct you to keep six feet social distancing, and instructions on the floor tell you that foot traffic inside the mall is “walk to the right” (like driving) to avoid contact. We’re coming out of a store, and directly in front of us is a family: slightly chubby, middle-aged father and mother with likewise adolescent, all sans masks and with big grins on their faces. They are walking the “wrong way” and moving directly toward other shoppers, who are scattering away from and around them. I realize I’m making huge assumptions here, but the look on the Dad’s face was “go ahead, say something.” We walked past and ignored them. What’s the point?
At a roadside Wendy’s in southern Ohio, the travellers were all wearing masks, while the locals were all walking in without them. Everyone had to eat out in the parking lot, though.
All of this comes as a result of the combination of American individualism and federalism We all grew up in States. Taxes were different, health care was different, schooling was different, age of consent was different, age to consume alcohol was different. Granted, the federal response to Covid19 has been disjointed, but no one should be surprised about the differences between states, if they understand the term “United States of America.” Within those parameters, Americans remain contrarians, oftentimes doing the opposite of what they are asked or required by even local government. That said, we all wore masks and maintained social distance. Doing as you please is license; liberty is freely choosing to do the right thing.
Places which are under federal control, like airports, have uniform rules: everyone has masks on all the time. This tells me the non-compliance is symbolic: people flaunt their views where they can, but yield whenever or wherever they know the consequences are serious. Anybody feels tough enough to bully the WalMart greeter, but TSA, not so much.
The political environment really is as bad as I imagined. In my family, we argue (loudly and openly) about everything. I found family members quietly and delicately engaging me about issues before determining what views they could/could not express. Most had stories of friends lost, jobs endangered, or public encounters which border on discomfort. Seems like everybody is walking around on eggshells, with a vocal minority (at both ends of the spectrum) waiting to scream at any infraction. Land of the free home of the reticent.
Nothing will be normal in the States until in-person school resumes. With all the two working-parent (or single-parent) families, work can’t resume until in-person school resumes. In the jurisdictions I visited, the local teachers’ unions were vigorously and publicly lobbying against in-person school and for online curricula, which has been perfunctory at best. Parents with means are arranging private education for their children. Teachers’ unions were calling out parents (and teachers!) for making private agreements for tutoring. Many parents will be stuck “homeschooling,” an oxymoron in this case. Homeschooling is a choice which requires great preparation and sacrifice; parents are now forced to do it with neither the vocation nor the support. This, not a vaccine, may prove to be the long pole in the tent to recovery.
Touchless delivery has gone to a new level. We ordered in Chinese food one night. About forty minutes later, I asked Judy where the order was. She paused to check her smartphone and said “at the door.” Seems they dropped the order at the door (no knock, no doorbell), texted her, and left.
Speaking of ethnic food, “authentic Mexican” food in America still isn’t. This was not a surprise. Perhaps somewhere near the border, or in some ethnic enclave in a bg city, one can find authentic Mexican cuisine. Tried it twice, in different areas. The workers were Mexican, and we enjoyed practicing our Spanish, but the food was still the high carb, meat- and sauce-heavy Tex-Mex version of Mexican cuisine available anywhere in the States.
We got to attend in-person Mass twice, which was a treat. In South Bend, the pews were roped off, no singing, no sign-of-peace, masks on except for the Eucharist. Near Baltimore, Mass was in the parking lot in tailgate chairs, under a hot, humid sun. Made me grateful for whoever invented the kneeler, as warm asphalt is tough on new jeans and old knees!
I noticed non-grocery stores had stocking issues. A sporting goods chain we visited had several aisles with little or no merchandise, normally a no-no in retail. I talked to a store employee who was loading home weight sets into cars. He told me they sold all they had, including the floor models, and people keep calling for more. Remember when everyone seemed to have a weight set which never got used and went for bargain prices at a garage sale? Times have changed.
Traffic on interstate highways was down, but not gone. Somehow Washington DC still managed to have traffic jams. Perhaps they were left over from before the pandemic?
On the way back to Mexico, we had to traverse BWI Marshall and Chicago O’Hare airports. Neither was impressive. At BWI, they had no TSA pre-Check lines open during the morning flight rush. But, we were in luck, as the long lines prompted TSA to open new lanes for the security search. But, the scanner announced that each and every electronic device had to be put into a separate bin. And we had eight of them, some of which were packed because we had pre-Check. Grrrrr. At O’Hare, there was also no pre-Check, but the first TSA checkpoint gave us a card which stated we were pre-Check. But we still had to go through the same security screen. But this time devices were allowed altogether. And we were approached by a homeless man begging in the security area. What? It’s no wonder why people think airport security is just theater.
Our literal last step in America was a doozy. Awaiting our AeroMexico flight to Guadalajara from Chicago, we listened to all the announcements, first in Spanish and then English. It was good to get back into practice. As we went down the jetway to board, we both said “buenas tardes” to the woman operating the console for the jetway. “I speak English.” she replied coldly. “We speak Spanish”, we responded with smiles. Guess we were guilty of microaggression. Or was it cultural appropriation? Anyway, as we stepped aboard, the flight attendant gave us a hearty “¡Bienvenidos!”

Fear of Flying

As the coronavirus rages, we’ve been cancelling all our vacations and plans to visit family in the States. As time passed, we came to two conclusions: first, there would be no end in sight to the spread of the virus; and second, since we have status as American citizens and permanent residents of Mexico, we can still travel back and forth between the two (if nowhere else). So we’re flying back to the States for a few weeks of family visits. I’ll capture my insights on what’s different flying under the coronavirus radar.

First off, planning a trip is very different: more like flying back in the 1990s, if you can remember it. There are fewer flights, fewer destinations, and connections are more necessary but less convenient. We couldn’t go nonstop from Guadalajara to Atlanta; the closest we could get nonstop to our destination (Cincinnati) was Chicago. Connections in Houston (United) and Dallas/Ft. Worth (American) had long layovers. Delta wanted to connect us through Mexico City to Atlanta to Cincy. There was nothing as simple as the short layover, one connection flights to which we were accustomed.

Prices were all over the map. We could get super-cheap fares with a overnight layover via such locations as Salt Lake City, but many of the other fares were still comparable to pre-pandemic pricing. Business class was not that much more expensive, although there is a raging online debate about spending extra for it. The extra service associated with business class is mostly gone (no drinks, no meals) but the seats are still more comfortable and it’s easier for us to social distance in a row for two. The plane did load a row at a time from the back, which was unusual.

For holders of the Mexican Permanente, there is a new immigration form to fill out when departing (still retaining the stub for returning). It looks a lot like the old one, but the section on purpose of travel (where you once had to check “other” and ensure not to check “tourist”) has been moved to the OFFICIAL USE part of the form and is filled out by the immigration official.

One surprise: there is a health form you need to fill out before going to security. I saw one person with a paper copy, but no extras anywhere. There was an empty table near security with people standing around it, but no instructions; after getting sent back from security (no lines, by the way), we went to that table and found a small notice. Here’s what you have to do: Have your smart phone read the QR code on the notice, which will send your phone’s browser to a webpage. You fill out the questionnaire (very easy) and then go through security and show it on your phone, just like your passport or boarding pass. But we had no advance notice of this. We were asked the same questions again while awaiting boarding, along with the usual security questions.

Many of the airport services were closed, but some food/accessory stores were open, so no need to starve. But remember, onboard service is very limited, so you either need to buy something and take it aboard or bring something from home. Our flight (AeroMexico) was about 80% filled, but everybody did their “social distancing” thing, most of the time.

For the first time in my life, I saw people actually waiting for their row to be called to board. I would love that to be a change which endures from this unfortunate pandemic.

The flight was no different, with the exception of everybody wearing masks and the much more limited services. Upon landing, Global Entry was working in O’Hare, so we skipped through Customs/Immigration quickly. We were given a US health questionnaire to fill out while in flight, but no one asked us for it. So much for strict measures.

All things considered, not an unpleasant set of changes for the privilege of international air travel. You still get there, and everyone seems concerned that you do so without getting sick. Key points to remember:

Are you allowed to travel to the country you’re entering, and why?
If it is the US, are there any State rules that apply AFTER you leave the airport?
How do you address the need for food/drink given all the time in the airport/in the airplane?
Can you download/find the health form online before you fly?

And as always, during these unusual times, have patience. Everyone is trying to figure how things work now, and it’s not always obvious what works, and what doesn’t. The fact that we can still travel (even in a limited way) is amazing in itself!

Dogz in the Dellz

We’re attending my annual college reunion (the BrewDogs), hosted this year in the Wisconsin Dells. Our trip got off to a sputtering start courtesy of AeroMexico airlines and an unannounced, last minute flight change.

We had reserved a non-stop flight from Guadalajara to Chicago O’ Hare, a four hour trip arriving just after midnight. We were going to clear customs & immigration and stay at the airport Hilton, which is adjacent to the terminal. Three days before the flight, I checked our seat assignments and noticed most of the plane was empty. Judy asked me “they wouldn’t cancel the flight, would they?” “No,” I opined, “they probably have connections to make, and this flight does not show a history of being cancelled.” Just by chance (or the intervention of the Holy Spirit), Judy checked the next day, and informed me we now had a morning flight, twelve hours earlier!

No e-mail, no notice of change on the Delta App (their partner). A Delta rep on the phone tried to tell me they sent both of us e-mails on June 30th (neither of us received such an e-mail), and oh-by-the-way, why did the App still show the original flight on July 29th? What can you do?

We were able to make the necessary changes to take the earlier flight, and make lemonade out of the lemons by staying the day at the airport Hilton, enjoying the gym and the pool and turning a hectic travel day into something more pacific.

Panoramic view of ORD from the top floor of the Hilton

While we enjoyed ourselves, the costs were shocking. Now I know we’re talking airport prices, but $77 USD for a shrimp Caesar salad, a bolognese pasta bowl, and two glasses of house wine? Not to mention service with an attitude. The waiter approached, stood facing away from our table, and asked “what can I get you?” We weren’t sure he was even talking to us!

But that’s travel now, especially in overcrowded US airports. The better portion was spending time with old friends (a term I mean literally these days) in the picturesque Wisconsin Dells, catching up on life and just enjoying each other’s company. Yes, there was too much bacon and too much custard (a Wisconsin specialty), too much wine and too much beer, too much loud music and too much raucous laughter. How else would a gathering of BrewDogs be?

Catching up means hearing of bad news as well as good. There were stories of friends and family passing, illnesses discovered and jobs lost, all the things that inevitably confront us as the years and decades pile up. And the stories were related in the frank manner only possible among good friends, who have shared hardship in the past, and can quickly revert to a level of intimacy only reserved for those you trust absolutely.

As the tally of empty beer bottles mounted, conversation veered to the deep end of the pool, and more than one time we confronted the same question: “what the h#&*! is going on out there?” Liberal & conservative, politically active and un-involved, all agreed that there is something fundamentally wrong in the country. We didn’t come to any brilliant conclusions; there simply wasn’t enough to beer to reach that level of performance!

Yet we noted that while the world we grew up in was fundamentally flawed in many ways, it was collectively far superior to today’s environment. Furthermore, those past failings hadn’t been resolved or even traded for new ones: many were still in place, adding to our woes.

Was it the inevitable finale of the age of Aquarius, since doing you own thing usually ends in destructive individualism? Was it unfettered commercialism, turning citizens into consumers and changing all human relationships into a contractual zero-sum game? Did we get too tired and cynical to believe in self-sacrifice and the common good? Or were we led on by politicians, manipulated into warring camps more interested in power and might than in duty and right.

We have to face it: America has always been a violent, individualistic place. But once upon a time, other peoples looked on that as something a touch quaint, a little odd, perhaps even useful. We seem to have passed from character to caricature. Maybe I’m just ruminating in a virtually empty O’Hare airport at midnight, waiting for a flight home. But my college friends come from all over the country, from backgrounds as different as can be. We all seem to be ruminating alone at midnight.

PSA: Getting Real (ID)

After our recent excursion back to the States, I realized a deadline is upon us, and more importantly, few ‘Muricans are aware of its implications! I speak of the Real ID act, set to take full effect in October 2020. Most Americans would be forgiven for ignoring this law until now, as it was first passed in 2005 and was slated to take effect in 2013, but was continually delayed due to the cost and political opposition. But it is here, now, and will take effect next year, so you probably need to know about it.

Why “probably?’ If you never fly, visit a secured government building or military base, or are under the age of 18, then no, you don’t need a Real ID. Most people (God-willing) will be over 18 years old at some point. Many will never visit a military base or secured federal building (but you would be surprised). But most people will fly–at least domestically–at some point in your life. Yes, you will need a Real ID to fly even from San Francisco to Santa Rosa, California (16 minutes, the shortest domestic air route according to Travel & Leisure).

Why? Blame the legacy of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, which showed that America’s lack of a national ID and disparate rules on State IDs were a vulnerability. Since most Americans viscerally oppose a national ID, Congress enacted (and the President signed into law) rules to make all State IDs (meaning State driver’s licenses) equally secure.

Why now, when that was so 2001? Well many States vigorously opposed and refused to comply with this new federal intrusion into their affairs, but the feds eventually won. Nearly all States have agreed to comply now, but some have only just begun to issue Real ID-compliant licenses. Some have made it an option you must request (and potentially pay more)!

Do you already have one? Perhaps. They are readily identifiable by a solid black or gold star in the upper right-hand corner of the license. But this is tricky: Ohio is a State in compliance, and my Ohio license has a gold star on it, but it is NOT a Real-ID. Here’s a fail-safe way to check: when you got your license (whenever it was) did you just routinely fill out an online form or visit a DMV office? Or did they ask you to show certified documents proving your name, SSN, and current residence? If the former, no Real ID; if the latter, then you are good-to-go. The whole point of Real ID was to ensure the card-carrier had proven his/her identity.

Do you really need one? If you have other federal ID (US Passport, DHS TTP card, etc.) and want to carry that even for domestic flights, then no. Do you visit military bases or secure federal facilities? If not, probably no, but what if your local Social Security Office is in a federal office building? Buzzzz, no entry without a Real ID-compliant card (or substitute), so think hard about it!

Lessons learned: Real ID is not just for international travelers, or DC types who constantly flit between federal office buildings. It is not automatic, like otherwise renewing your driver’s license: you need documents, you may need to “opt into” it and pay more, and just because your State is NOW in compliance, your previously-issued license may NOT be.

It’s not a catastrophe, and there are easy work-arounds, especially if you have a US Passport. Here’s a website with more info and links to each State’s DMV for specific help. It’s coming, and I wouldn’t bet on any further delays.

Family Time

As an expat, you’ll undoubtedly engage in the ritual pilgrimage to visit family back NOB. Even those who don’t retire out of the country face the challenge of juggling multiple family work and vacation schedules, holidays, birthdays, and special events to gather as a family. For expats there are the additional complications of extended air travel, customs and immigration, and the ever-so-difficult question of how to spend scarce quality time with family.

Grandpa’s 90th birthday with our daughters, sons-in-law & grandkids.

Even an expat with unlimited means is going to be forced by the rigors of travel to limit the number and length of visits back NOB. Then you arrive, jet-lagged and dehydrated from 30,000 ft, and the visit countdown clock starts ticking away! Do you take a nap and recover, or catch up on life with your daughter? The next morning, do you complete morning prayers or play video games with your grandson? Tick, tick,tick…

There is a powerful impulse to “do” things, accomplish something, since how often will a family gather? And there are family activities which all (or at least most) can join in, so why not? Yet there is also great value in just being present, listening and talking and remembering as only a family can do. Hearing Dad tell that same joke for the thousandth time, for example. Tick, tick, tick…

The Queen city
at the sign museum
and the aquarium

It is not a challenge unique to expats, but one of the human condition, exacerbated by modern technology. Parents working outside the home face it as they end a busy day and pick up children from day care. Those crowds of teens sitting-together-alone, glued to screens, are trying desperately to avoid it. Long ago, when a family member emigrated to America, the farewell took on the airs of a funeral, since the parting was most likely forever. Tick, tick,tick…

Not only do we all have a limited time on this Earth, we don’t know how limited it is. We can self-medicate with social media or a nice drink, chasing the demons out of sight for a while, but the big hand keeps sweeping. We can be fully present in the moment and enjoy the best parts of the best relationships, yet the aftertaste remains bittersweet, because . . . tick, tick, tick.

While it is a good thing to be mindful of that constantly ticking clock, it is counterproductive to dwell on it. Time is meant to be spent together with the ones we love. You can’t make up for lost moments, only savor those we have. Me, I’m savoring some family time!