Steven Harper Piziks

Tuesday was Elaine's appointment at the Latvian embassy. Karina and I went along for both moral support and to be celebratory. I also wanted to observe the process so I'd know what I was in for later!

We met at a Metro station and took a subway to the stop nearest the embassy. We deliberately gave ourselves plenty of time so we could get breakfast. Karina found a nice cafe, and we ate and chatted and kept an eye on the clock.

It was HOT. Boy, was it HOT! Did I mention the HOT? By 9 AM it was already 95 degrees out and humid, humid, humid. Whew! When we emerged from the cafe, we planned our route to the embassy based on what side of the street had the most shade. Fortunately, someone decades ago had the forethought to plant a whole lot of sidewalk trees, so there was a lot of it. 

We were on embassy row, and we played "guess the embassy's country by the flag." Elaine usually won.

We arrived at the embassy fifteen minutes early, but they don't let you in until the exact moment of your appointment, so we wandered around looking at other embassies and trying not to melt. 

At last we were allowed into Latvia's embassy. It was actually a little disappointing. We weren't allowed into the embassy proper. The lobby area looked a little like a basement church classroom. Small table with utilitarian chairs. Bulletin boards with stuff about Latvia. An easel with a white board on it. The clerk stood behind glass. 

Here we ran into a small embarrassment. None of us speak more than a few words of Latvian. All three of us feel a bit cheated here. If our respective parents had spoken Latvian to us as children, we could have grown up fluent in it. But in the 60s, it was what Karina calls "one-way assimilation." You are in America, you speak English! So we didn't learn it, and Elaine had to ask the clerk to speak English. The clerk clearly disapproved, and I suppose I can't blame her. They probably have a lot of new citizens who don't speak Latvian these days, and it must seem ... jarring. But there's nothing for it, so we forged ahead.

Elaine gave her paperwork to the clerk, who went over it and declared it proper. Elaine signed a couple of forms. ("Should I sign my name in English or in Latvian?" she asked. The clerk said, "You only have one signature, so sign it the way you sign anything else.") The clerk took her photo. ("Should I smile?" "No teeth," said the clerk, and the three of us dissolved into laughter, which made it hard for Elaine to get the photo taken.) Elaine paid a couple of fees, and it was done! Her passport will arrive in the mail later.

Outside, Elaine cheered, and Karina and I joined in. Group hug! Group photo! We also noticed one of those little library thingies. It was filled with books about Latvian culture, free for the taking. We each took one. 

On our way to the embassy, we had passed a modern art museum. Elaine likes modern art quite a lot, and Karina said she'd been meaning to visit this museum for years, so we decided to check it out. It turned into a very pleasant afternoon of wandering through galleries examining work of all kinds and styles. They had some famous pieces by O'Keefe, Picasso, Matisse, and Renoir, and lots of pieces by artists who were new to me. 

After a while, museum overload set in and we decided we'd had our fill of art. There was a lot to unpack and think about. Here, we needed to go our separate ways. There was a long, bittersweet good-bye. Because distance prevents me from seeing them often, I forget how much I like spending time with Elaine and Karina until I'm with them. It's our shared family history and a whole pile of common interests that all create a bonhomie you just don't get anywhere else.

 

Last night my sister Bethany Piziks was staying with us. After a supper of home-made tomato soup and thick grilled cheese sandwiches on home-made bread and an evening of catching up, she went down into the guest room while Darwin and I got ready for bed ourselves. A moment later, we heard a loud, whooping screech from downstairs. Startled, we ran out of the bedroom and Bethany met us in the hallway.

"A mouse!" she said. "There was a mouse inside my backpack! I picked it up, and the mouse jumped out and ran away!"

So now we have mice. (Where's the one, there are always several.)

We've kept the cats out of the finished basement for more than a year now because of the Great Diarrhea Disaster, but we decided it was time to let them have the run of the place again. I also bought some live-capture traps and baited them with peanut butter. They're down there now, quietly waiting with innocent looks on their faces. The cats have been down and up several times. We'll see what happens.

In the meantime, the three of us got endless amusement out of Bethany's reaction. I don't think I've ever heard her make that noise. Bethany was laughing as hard as we were.
 

 My favorite Mother Berchte moment came when the boys were still in middle and elementary school. Every year at Yule, we'd go around the house lighting candles to welcome back the light, and I would sneak outside to dive into my Berchte costume (old woman mask, blood-red cloak, boots). Berchte would pound on the door and the nervous boys would let her in for food and presents.

Although I was never around when Berchte arrived, the boys were never quite sure I was in the costume, even by the time Sasha and Aran got into middle school.

The first Yule after I got divorced, things became tricky. There was no other adult around to distract the boys while I changed. Also, the boys were growing increasingly convinced it was me, and I heard them making plans to watch the front door and the sliding door to see if I snuck out. So that year, I put the Berchte costume in my closet upstairs.

While the boys were lighting candles and watching the downstairs doors, I slipped upstairs, changed, and slipped back down, making it look like Berchte had suddenly appeared at the bottom of the steps.

Max let out a screech that brought Aran and Sasha running. "How did you get in?" Max demanded.

"I decided to try coming down the chimney like that other guy," Berchte responded in her gruff, gravelly voice.

"We don't have a chimney," Max protested.

"Oh." Berchte thought a moment. "You do now!"

Around here, supper comes at odd times. I eat lunch before 11:00 AM because high schools start so ungodly early. I get home around 3:30 and, since it's been four hours since I last ate, I'm starving.

Darwin, meanwhile, often works from home and rarely eats lunch those days. 

So when I get home, we'll have supper. At 4:00. 

But on days when Darwin works at his office, he doesn't get home until well into the evening, like 8:00. On those days, I eat something when I get home and then we have a late, late supper, sometimes finishing at 9:00.

Our house has a weird mealtime schedule.
 

 Okay, the answer to this one was right out there:

I really wanted to Get Out of Michigan for mid-winter break (when the winter blahs really set in), and I investigated Puerto Rico as a possibility. There are many advantages! Since PR is a US territory, it means American citizens don't need passports, custom stops, foreign cell phone plans, or any of the other annoyances that go with travel to a different country. And it's warm! I found a short-term rental in the party district of San Juan, and off Darwin and I went!

So far we've been loving it. The weather has been in the mid-80s in the day and the low 70s at night. We're on the ocean, and get the lovely ocean breezes. We get to wear shorts and t-shirts and sun hats. In February. Incredible!

One thing that's caught my notice is that the sun sets about about 6:30 PM every day. In Michigan, that means it's winter and COLD outside. But down in PR, it's summery. So we have early darkness but warm weather, and I =love= warm summer nights. It's heaven!

We've explored large chunks of San Juan, including El Morro, the fort Spain built after the Dutch almost took the island away from Spain in 1625. Over the next 100 or so years, the fort was expanded and redone until it became a huge stone edifice with a labyrinth of levels and corridors and lookout posts and cannon platforms. So many cannon platforms. And a deep dry moat that would be instant death to any invading soldier that went into it. Nowadays it's a big tourist attraction and World Heritage Site. The land it sits on juts out into the ocean, and there's a long, long, long road leading up to it that crosses a flat expanse of lawn. This is on purpose--if you wanted to invade the fort by land, you'd be exposing yourself to cannon and gun fire for a good half mile. In the Dutch invasion of 1625, the area was covered in thousands of corpses from the battle. Today, people fly kites on it. I think the modern way is much better.

Darwin and I, as we always do, speculated what life for the average person was like at the fort. We saw drawings of soldiers in many-layered woolen uniforms and boots and hats. They must have been miserable most of the time! The food was awful and you had to pay for it, meaning most soldiers had no money at all. You would think that Spain would want well-fed, well-trained soldiers at this place, since it's the gateway to the Caribbean, but...nope!

We also explored the Old City, dissecting the architecture. We poked our heads into the shamefully-shabby cathedral of San Juan. We checked out many shops and strolled along some remains of the original wall that used to surround the city. Always fun.

Yesterday, we went hiking in the rainforest as part of a tour that also took us to an eye-popping rocky series of pools and waterfalls, one of which has a natural waterslide that, at the end, dumps you several feet into deep, cool water. There's also a high-dive rock (yes, I jumped the 30-odd feet downward), and a good old-fashioned rope that lets you swing out over the pool for a breathtaking plunge into it. All this involves a lot of rock and tree climbing, which I absolutely loved. Acrophobic Darwin was content to watch me from the sidelines. 

After that, we squished our way to a kayak tour at sunset. The group of us started on the ocean and paddled into a river lined with mangrove trees. At sunset. It was both eerie and romantic, with the trees creating a low tunnel and the coqui frogs calling and giant fish splashing. We emerged at a bay filled with micro-organisms that flare with bio-luminescence when they're disturbed. Usually this means every kayak is surrounded by a soft blue glow and every dip of the paddle creates a little burst of light, but tonight the little critters weren't having any of it, and they only sparked a little. It was still pretty awesome. The evening kayak ride through the mangroves alone was worth the price.

And we've eaten. Darwin has been uncharacteristically daring and has been trying new foods. Wonderful! At a hole-in-the-wall restaurant by El Morro, we tried Sancocha, a stew of simmered beef that originated at El Morro as a way to make the awful dried meat imported from Spain edible. Now it's a national dish, and it's wonderful. So is Mofongo, a base of plantains and garlic with the consistency of cornbread that you stuff or top with a protein (shrimp, pork, or beef) and a luscious sauce. And arroz masteado ("mason rice"?). And much other deliciousness that is new to both of us.

The kayak tour yesterday was tiring, so today so far we're just hanging out on the balcony, enjoying the warm weather. Who knows what trouble we'll get into later!

--The new year has arrived safely. We got the text that it had been delivered and we got it into the house before the porch pirates found it.

--2023 had its nice points, but it was marred by the deaths of my sister-in-law and my brother. This was the first holiday season without Paul, and it was hard.

--Darwin wanted to throw a New Year's Eve card party of the kind his mother had. I let him. :) By this, I mean I let him arrange everything. I planned and pulled off Thanksgiving and Christmas (with a second Christmas at my mother's, which required a fair amount of planning and pulling off of its own). By New Year's, I was done! Darwin ordered pizza and made party potatoes.

--The party went very nicely. Lots of food, lots of lively card playing. My great-niece Lorelei, who is two and up way, way past her usual bedtime, was a little sweetie all evening and didn't throw a single "I'm TIRED" tantrum. We were all mightily impressed.

--In the morning, I remembered to say "Rabbit, rabbit" when I woke up. So 2024 has to be better. Right?

--On New Year's Day afternoon, Darwin and I de-holidayed the house. The tree came down, the decorations went into their packing, and the boxes went into the storage room until next year. I always insist we do it this way--on New Year's Day, everyone is home (even if "everyone" is just the two of us), and if we put it off further, it won't get done until Valentines Day. It didn't take long, really. We've cut back on the amount of decorating we do, which makes many things easier!

--It was a smooth, if bittersweet, holiday season.

When I was growing up, most of my family worked in hospitals as medical workers. Hospitals never close, and someone always had to work a given holiday. This led to a great deal of negotiation and fluidity in the family. Who has to work? Who's off? Who can make it? Who can't? We eventually developed the idea of having holidays =close= to the actual day and not necessarily on the day itself in order to maximize the number of people who could come. It also gave individual family members negotiating power. ("Sure, I'll work on Thanksgiving, but I want the following Friday and Saturday off in return.") 

This tradition has continued now, even though the family has branched into other fields. Aran works at a casino, and he works every Thursday, even holiday Thursdays. Max works in security, and the same applies to him. My sister lives out of state, and she discovered that the airports are dead on Thanksgiving Day, making travel effortless but also making it difficult to appear at an afternoon dinner event.

So we've been doing Thanksgiving on Friday.

And I love it.

We have Thanksgiving at my house, and while I'm good at putting dinner together, it's also difficult. I work the rest of the week, including Wednesday, and Thanksgiving week at school is always fraught. Especially lately. The students (who are still showing the after-effects of the pandemic--immaturity, poor social skills, etc.) are more difficult to deal with than usual just before long weekends, and the marking period is coming to an end, so all the grading has to stay caught up. It makes for an exhausting three days at work--and I still have to prep for a major party. But Friday Thanksgiving is great! I have all day Thursday to prepare, it's way more relaxed, and after the gathering, I still have a full weekend to enjoy. Cool!

The prep began last weekend, of course, with the shopping. The main grocery store down here is chronically short on workers--they don't pay market-level wages--so the lines are long even on regular days. Pre-holiday times are way worse. But I soldiered through it and got everything home. I love having a garage again! In Michigan, November is cold enough to use it as a giant refrigerator, and you don't have to worry about finding space for all the extra food.

Tuesday after work, I made pirgai--Latvian rolls stuffed with ham and onion, then set out bread so it could go stale for stuffing. That was enough for the day! :)

Wednesday after work, I made the pumpkin pies and a batch of dessert piragi (stuffed with Nutella instead of ham), and I dry-brined the turkey. And that was all. 

Thursday (today), I did the rest of the prep. I peeled potatoes and sweet potatoes and set them in pots of cold water. I peeled and sliced apples and baked an apple pie. I chopped bread into cubes and mixed it with melted butter and spices for stuffing. I set up my timetable for tomorrow's cooking and prep. And that was all.

Tomorrow, I basically just have to put everything on the stove or in the oven in time to eat at 2:00. And now I have the rest of the day off. It's lovely.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Darwin and I are taking a cruise, our first! 

We started in Venice, where we stayed a couple days before the cruise. Our flight was uneventful and only got interesting when we landed. Venice, you see, is built on 120 islands out in an ocean lagoon, but the airport is on the mainland. So getting to the city from the airport is a bit of a puzzle for newcomers. However, our thoughtful BnB hosts had sent us careful instructions. There's what's basically a shuttle bus (but it's a boat) that runs from the airport to various stops around Venice. Jetlagged and with lots of luggage in tow, we arrived at the water taxi stop. 

It was strange to see water instead of a parking lot and boats instead of cars, I have to say. To Michigander me, boats are for recreation, not transportation. But Venice has a different point of view. 

Anyway, I bought tickets at a kiosk. Darwin, who's a Europe newbie, doesn't like trying this kind of thing, but I'm fearless about it. The shuttle only cost fifteen Euros each, a bargain when a private taxi to the city was at least 100! 

We joined the line of people at the dock and the water taxi arrived. It really was a floating bus--long, with rows of basic seats and a diesel engine. The (enormously handsome Italian) ticket taker asked, "Where are you going?" in English.

I paused, confused. "Venice?"

He laughed. "What part of Venice?"

Ah. "Zattere. Does the bus go there?"

"Yes, yes. They will announce it."

So we boarded with a pile of other people. It was great fun for me. The empty water stretched in all directions. Traffic was expected to stay within a narrow lane between Venice and the mainland marked by pilons. Other boats breezed past our chug-chug-chug bus, but I didn't mind. We got a great initial view of Venice. Astounding architecture everywhere you looked! Delightful!

We landed at the Zattere dock, and after a problem sorting out the directions to the flat, we arrived, hot, tired, and panting. But the flat was cool and inviting, right on the big canal (not the Grand Canal, which runs through the city--the giganto canal that runs south of it). Our third-floor windows had a spectacular view of Venice, and when we opened the windows, soft ocean breezes wafted through. The building was at least 300 years old, and we could see the original hand-hewn beams in the ceilings.

We powered through jet lag, forcing ourselves to go out and about. We explored Venice quite a lot, and it was lovely. We had to walk nearly everywhere---no cars allowed in Zaterre--though I became adept at using the water-borne mass transit system.

Venice is everything you've heard. It's an incredible mix of ancient buildings and new technology. Romantic canals snake in every direction, and bridges that range from toy-sized to mega-huge cross them. Lots of narrow streets that Americans would call alleys with shops and restaurants and private dwellings. High balconies, wooden shutters, cobblestone streets. The weather was sunny and hot, but among the stone buildings the air was pleasantly cool. 

We arrived Saturday afternoon and were leaving Monday morning, so a lot of the more famous attractions were closed during our visit, but we didn't mind. It was plenty interesting and diverting to explore the streets. We wandered St. Mark's Square and learned the photos don't do it justice. It's HUGE. You could play a game of NFL football in it and have room for a couple little league games. The Basilica sprawls across the south side near the Doge Palace, and at night everything is lit up. There are thousands of people there at any given time, including at night, but it doesn't feel crowded at all. We also came across what I think was a dance school that did an outdoor street performance. These kids (young teens) could DANCE. 

We ate, too. Lasagna and pizza and gelato and squid ink pasta and more. Sorry, Italian-Americans, but Venice has your cooking beat in every way.

One of the nicer moments was the little seafood restaurant where I tried the above-mentioned squid ink pasta. Darwin and I sat right under an umbrella on the sidewalk next to a narrow canal. The weather was charming, the service wonderful, and the food fantastic. It was excruciatingly romantic and delightful.

We went on a gondola ride, of course. Darwin wasn't sure he wanted to do something so tourist-y, but I told him, "We're going to go on a gondola ride. In Venice. With a gondolier. As husbands. BECAUSE WE CAN."

There are gondola rides all around Venice. They're tightly regulated by a guild, so they all cost the same and none of them try to cheat anyone. We went to a cluster of them near St. Mark's Square. They were in a spot where several canals came together in a big pool. I promised Darwin a Handsome Gondolier Guy, and right when we arrived at the dock, just such a gondolier moved up to pick us up. His name was Alessandro. I asked about going under the Bridge of Sighs (if you kiss at sunset under the BoS, legend says your love for each other will remain eternal), but it was way far away and would increase the cost by quite a lot, so we decided against. 

The gondola was lushly appointed, with velvet seats and black lacquered wood. Alessandro stood behind us with the tiller/oar under his arm and we were off. It was wonderful. It was an entirely different view of Venice--back "alleys" and docks and narrow, twisting ways. We drifted past sparkly people dining in golden-lit restaurants and heard distant music. Alessandro didn't sing, but he did whistle from time to time. He had to duck when we went under most of the bridges, and I asked him about that.

"It's because Venice is sinking," he explained. "Three hundred years ago, the water was a meter lower, and no one had to duck." He also told us that the buildings are all built on wooden foundations, not stone, but the clay under Venice is anaerobic, so the wood doesn't rot. The oldest building in Venice is over 1000 years old. It's the one they wiped out in CASINO ROYALE, if you were wondering. The whole trip was lovely and romantic and a delight.

Sunday evening, we repacked and got everything ready for our taxi to pick us up. We decided to hire a private taxi rather than risk misreading the bus schedule, you see. In the morning, ready to leave for the cruise itself, we ran into a small problem....