Hey, hey, hey! We're back from Jellystone!

My five-day double-birthday visit to Henry has come to an end, and I'm at the airport in Bozeman. I'll start where I left off, the day of the Yellowstone Park's Lower Loop Tour, on our birthday.

Our tour guide was wonderful. They all seem to be. I guess people don't become tour guides if they don't like talking about something they love and like talking, period. Her name was Cheryl and she drove us in a small bus. (She used to drive a semi across country, which I found comforting. I have a recurring dream that I'm in a bus driven by a crazy person. Don't analyze this please.)

When we first got on the bus, we were given our box lunches, which we'd ordered. There was some confusion as I am Karen Lynch, and there was a Karen Luth on the bus also. I thought the bus driver was just a confused person, but we finally sorted it all out. Not only is Karen Luth on the bus with us, but her husband's name is FRED! We were incredulous when we realized this. Hilarious, really. I said, Well, my husband always says he's never met a Fred he didn't like! This couple was delightful, and from Warwick, RI. We played "do you know" endlessly, to no avail.  They were both very smiley and he was a silly photo-bombing type. They were about five years older than I, with two boys a little older than mine.

Lodgepole pines. The RI couple and I all thought Cheryl was saying "large" pole pines.  I heard Fred joking to Karen about "Lahdge Mahdge." 

The roots of some of the trees in the Park grow wide, low, and circular. (Sounds like my first wife. PM me if you want to know this joke.) This tree was upended and looked like driftwood.

These steaming thermal pools are all over. Sometimes the water is literally boiling.

This guy caused and elk jam (aka a traffic jam caused by an elk sighting).

Some trees get this disease from the soil... they rot from the bottom up. The white "booties" are the sign. 

I remembered a story Mary had told us the day before, which I shared with today’s guide: There was a bison that fell through the thin ice of a pond one winter. News of events like this seem to spread across the region. Everyone knows every kill…. every accident… every dumb tourist move. Mary later saw a herd of bison walk by that pond, and one by one, each bison stopped at the pond where that bison had fallen through. Paused. Looked at the pond. Then moved on. Paying homage to their fallen comrade. 

Lake Yellowstone Hotel, inside the Park. 

Old Faithful Inn.

After lunch — which we ate sitting on a log in the shade of a tree across from a little general store — we got back on the bus.  I woke to the bus stopping at the next sight, and Cheryl saying, I guess you’ll needed a nap! HA!!! Apparently, the whole bus passed out while the magnificent national park scenery passed us by. 

The main attraction on this tour was Old Faithful. Apparently, years ago it spouted (?) every hour, on the hour.. but after an earthquake 60 years ago almost to the day, it switched to going off every hour and a half, give or take ten minutes. We arrived just as it was going down. Ugh… So Henry and I walked for a little over an hour, which felt good after a day and a half sitting, and arrived to the viewing area just in time. I will admit here to my little group of readers that I was underwhelmed. It’s just hard for something to blow your mind when you’ve been hearing about it your entire life. I did get a kick out of it, though. It’s fun to experience something (something happy) with a group of strangers all excited about the same thing. 

Somehow they found out it was our birthday (cannot imagine how!) so the whole bus sang to us. Henry was mortified.  Soon after that, Cheryl dropped us each at our respective hotels, and gave us big long hard hugs. We tipped her and she asked us to give her a shout out on Trip Advisor, which I will definitely do. 

Henry and I had reservations at a sweet restaurant in town, atypical of all the others. It was a little Bistro with about ten tables. We had a nice birthday dinner, went home to bed, and prepared for the next day’s trip to Bozeman.

As much as I dreaded that drive up the Gallatin again, we did it because we wanted to meet my niece who was in Big Sky for the weekend. It was much easier on the inside of the highway, and there was no construction on Saturday. We had coffee with Rosalie in the little “town center” of Big Sky. A strange place. The nature part is spectacular, of course, but the wealth and the fancy boutiques bum me out. Not my thing.

Then off to Bozeman. Prior to this day, I had scoured the internet for a place to get Henry a haircut and beard trim, but could find only one place that was open on Saturday and was not fully booked. The only way to get an appointment, however, was to put your name in, in person, that day. When we arrived at noon, we were told they’d been fully booked since 9:30 am. Their recommendation was the neighboring town of Belgrade, which has three barbers. Two were closed. One had openings. So off we went. The place was like something out of a Coen Brothers movie. It was in a little strip mall. Barber pole outside. Inside, a big bright room with paneling and armchairs on one side, and three barber chairs on the other. It was a very pleasant place to be. Sweet warm small talk. A father with two kids—one seemingly transgendered and the other, a CIS boy, who hadn’t been there since his spring formal. Lots of talk about how bushy his hair had gotten. His name was Stetson. The barber said, “Got a picture?” Apparently the kid always brings a photo, but he couldn’t find it on his phone. He was a cute kid, asking the barber all sorts of questions, like, “What’s the strangest question anyone’s ever asked you, as a barber?”  The barber had no answer. When it was Henry’s turn, I tried my best not to art director his hair. He is 24, after all.  But I did point out his hairline, which barbers never seem to notice. It makes a huge difference once you understand his hairline. Anyway, this woman gave him the best haircut, shave, and beard trim ever!  When she told me it was $20 I needed her to repeat it. I was prepared to pay the guy in Bozeman $65! It’s all a la carte there…. Hair. Shave. Beard trim. We went back to Bozeman to see more of it because barber detour put a wrench into our plans. It’s a great little town. Reminded me of Saratoga Springs. 

Henry and I had a beer and a snack — chicken parm sliders for him, fried green tomatoes for me — after which I schmied around, and then we hit the road. Dinner was at the Buffalo Bar back in WY. Nice meal at the bar. Huge stuffed bison all around us. Real. I asked. Everyone asks. 

Henry and his $20 cut, shave, and beard trim.

Sunday was sleep-in day, and then off to see the one last thing we wanted to see in the Park. The Grand Prismatic Spring. It’s a hot spring that looks like a prism when viewed from above. Words can’t describe it. So here’s the pic. 

Henry invited his friend Nicole to join. Another lovely person. Henry attracts the nicest people. On the path up to the scenic overlook we passed probably twenty young women, all dressed in pastel-colored dresses, from neck to ankle. They had long hair, pulled back, with a sort of pouf in the front, pinned up braid in the back. They looked miserable.  I knew they were in some kind of religious order, but I also sensed they were oppressed. After some Googling, I learned they are probably fundamentalist Mormons. 

For more on them:  
https://www.buzzfeed.com/erinlarosa/19-things-you-probably-dont-know-about-flds-polygamists

This was a short one-and-done targeted visit into the Park. It was super fun for me to be driving in there on my own. But the Mustang is not ideal for visibility. We got back just before Henry and Nicole had to start their shift. When they did, I took off to the Grizzly and Wolf Discovery Center, or something like that. It’s right at the end of Henry’s street and has outdoor live-animal exhibits. I NEVER go to zoos because animals in captivity sadden me, but all the animals here were rescued from their circumstances, so I guess they’re better off than they would be otherwise. The grizzlies became humanized or whatever the term is for when humans feed them and they unlearn how to survive in the wild. Montana has done a TON to reduce the number of wild animals this happens to. The numbers are greatly reduced. Besides the grizzlies (two), I saw two wolves and a bunch of bald eagles. Oh, and squirrels. Not a clue what possessed them to think that would be cool to see. Let those poor rodents free for God’s sake. 

Grizzlies' claws are three to four inches long.

Up until the “zoo,” the day had been great, but quickly went from bad to worse. I told the museum woman I qualified for the AAA price (one dollar less than full entrance fee) and she said, “Adult or senior?”  I made her say it twice, I was so taken aback. Ugh… Immediately I scanned and scanned the sign to see if “Senior” meant just over 55 or something that would offer me some comfort. Nope. 

After that visit, I was walking to town, in the middle of an intersection, having gotten the “walk” signal, and was almost hit by a pick-up truck. I was not looking anywhere but in front of me. Then I heard “HEADS UP! HEADS UP!!!” It was a guy on a motorcycle behind this truck that was taking a left, into me. I think he was addressing the truck driver who finally did hear him, just when I heard him. I stopped, JUST like a deer in the headlights, staring at the truck about five feet from me. I thanked the bike guy… while he yelled more at the driver. It was awful. My legs were like jelly for hours afterwards. 

I booked a 6:45 pm West Yellowstone tour — free with my hotel stay. Turned out I was the only taker, so the guide Chris and I had some quality time together. It was supposed to be a half hour tour but with only one person, it was more like 20 minutes. I learned some, but had learned a lot already about WY from my forays into the actual Park. It was well worth it, though, because Chris gave me a nice little itinerary for my last night. He said, first, stop at this train car that was part of a chain of 27 that went from Montana to the Worlds Fair in NY (1926?). Now each of those 27 cars is located in and around the area it travelled. Next, stop at Eagles, which is one of the first stores in WY, complete with the original “fountain,” a breakfast/lunch/dinner counter… and souvenirs and stuff, too. Then walk through the lobby of The Madison Hotel, the first hotel in WY. Still in business. Family-owned. Lovely people. Then go to the Three Bear Restaurant and Lounge and have a drink with Tracey. Then have dinner at The Branch, which is apparently an unremarkable restaurant, but has a full train car inside it, which is very cool. I asked Chris, “Is Tracey, by any chance, one of the two hair stylists in West Yellowstone?” He said,  “Yes, she is!” She and I had a text exchange as I tried to find someone for Henry. So I did everything Chris told me to do, except the last stop at The Branch. Tracey was too much fun to leave.

The Fountain at Eagle's. 

The lobby of the Madison Hotel.

When I got to Tracey’s bar she seemed to be a snitty person — very unlike how she was via text. I came to realize it was because she was talking to a horse’s ass who was bugging the crap out of her. He kept making cracks about the politics of Montana. She said something he perceived as prickly and he said he didn’t mean any harm, and his wife belted him and told him to cut it out. He would not let it go, even making more cracks to some newcomers. Tracey had said, I don’t know what you have against Montana but I’m kind of done talking about it. I envisioned a brawl like in a Western, but they left. Without tipping. Now Tracey was much more fun. This guy and his “darling” were from North Dakota, by the way. Maybe there’s some sort of rivalry, but Tracey thought it ironic that he would be acting superior, "considering where he’s from."

Soon another couple came in and we talked all about the latest drama in the park. An injured bison (hit by a car) was soon taken down by two grizzlies who had a heyday feeding off his carcass. A wolf pack would try to “cut in” by having one wolf distract a bear, while another moved in while that bear’s back was turned. I don’t now why the other grizzly didn’t get that wolf, but I think I heard they’re not particularly wily. Just more like big lugs.  There was also an awful car accident in the park that day. It’s dangerous stuff, this wilderness thing.

Another woman came in from the adjoining restaurant section and said she needed a glass of red wine. GOOD red wine. Her single parent son and his two kids were in the restaurant. Maybe she needed some time to herself, although she did say this trip to visit them was precious time. We’re all chatting away, and suddenly the son comes to get her and off she goes! She seemed to have left her dinner companions to go down a glass of wine in the adjoining bar. 

I ordered a Caesar salad to go and ate that at the hotel and watched a movie. It’s BIZARRE to stay at a hotel where your son is the front desk guy!!!!  Every time I come in, or leave, he's there, working away. Sometimes with warm happy people who seem to enjoy him, and sometimes with cranky people who make his brow furrow. Exactly like when he would come home from pre-school and tell me about some boy who did something mean. Same face. Same sense of dismay that all is not peaceful in this world.

Later that night, Henry came up to tell me he was asked to do the night shift too.. so that’s 3:00 pm till 7:00 am… Ugh. I felt SO bad for him! So I had my first full night alone in the suite. 

I got up at 7:15 just as he was getting off his shift. I drove him to his apartment, hugged and kissed him goodbye, and headed up to Bozeman for the airport. That ride was fine. One close call as I pulled out of a turnout where I’d stopped to shoot some fly fishermen… but I think the guy who honked at me was just being pissy because my pulling out did not cause him to so much as touch his brake. 

The technology in this rental car was far more advanced than my car. As I approached the airport I realized I needed gas, so I asked Siri where the nearest gas station was, so I had Siri giving me those directions, and WAYZ simultaneously still sending me to the airport.  My WAYZ voice is an Irish woman, and Siri is just Siri… so I could sort of tell the difference… but it was a little hectic! Once at the airport, I had 2 1/2 hours to kill, which was really pleasant, since I got a great table at a restaurant with two outlets to stay juiced up.

This is probably it for my blogging till next summer from wherever that takes me.

Thank you for reading!!!

Traditional birthday photo. Some day I hope to find them ALL and put them together. 

Spaghetti Western?

The scenery I'll be posting soon on social media won't look very Italian, and that's because I'm blogging about my visit to Yellowstone National Park. On my Italy blog.

The reason for my visit is that my older son is here for five months working as a front desk clerk at a West Yellowstone hotel — a perfect gig while the Boston Sports Museum is being renovated (where he currently works). They are both Delaware North companies.

Also, we share a birthday. Tomorrow. 58 and 24. He was my 34th birthday present.

I landed in Bozeman around noon on Wednesday and rented a Mustang convertible! They tried to upgrade me to a pick-up truck but I told them it would be too much for me, a Mini Cooper driver. So I ended up with the Mustang. I then headed to the condo of my brother- and sister-in-law who have a condo in Bozeman where their two kids live. (They were visiting.) They fed and watered me well. (Water's important to combat altitude sickness.) Then off I went to West Yellowstone to see my boy at the front desk of the Yellowstone Park Hotel. My brother- and sister-in-law had visited him the day before and sent me this:

This is the Bozeman Airport. Lots of wood! Like a giant lodge!

My brother-in-law made sure to tell me to stop at the Soldier's Chapel in Big Sky on my way to West Yellowstone.
It's dedicated to those who died (or maybe just fought?) in WWII.  

The window behind the altar frames Lone Mountain perfectly.

Had to stop at this sign!

On my way to see Henry, I was stopped in traffic forever while they repaired a guard rail. Or replaced it. I had no idea what the issue was. At first I was hopeful it was a bison sighting or something.. but no. Just traffic taking turns going single file. It was on the news tonight. Some folks waited two hours. I think I waited about 45-50 minutes.

All along this highway were white wooden crosses... sometimes in bunches of four or five. I asked a guy at a convenience store if they memoralized people who had died in an accident and he said yes... I said, Snow? Or this time of year, too? He said, all year round, and mostly stupid reasons. The example he gave was a woman who stopped to look at a Big Horn Sheep and a semi came around the bend and mowed her over. So it was a white-knuckle trip for me, one I don't relish doing again, but I will be doing it three more times. A round trip on Saturday (NO construction on the weekend, though) and again to the airport Monday. Geez, I just read that US Highway 191 in Gallatin Canyon is one of the five most dangerous highways in Montana. The Gallatin River runs along it where rafters and fly fishers do their thing. The American Legion puts up the signs, and they've been doing so for over 50 years. I'm researching this as I write and have decided to take an alternative route.

Finally got to the Hotel and found my boy at the front desk :)  It's a charming hotel and I have a lovely suite!

The downtown. Think Lake George. Or Weirs Beach.

Henry's Hotel.

Henry's street (Grizzly Street).

These cabins are associated with the Hotel. I see them from my window.

Henry's street — the other way.

This is another hotel where Henry sometimes works. Also a Delaware North property.

Henry worked till 11 and then slept on the pull-out couch in my suite. I ate at a restaurant called the Slippery Otter —one of the favorites here, apparently. It was fine. I read a book. There were absolutely no other solo diners. I was at the bar, which helped me not feel too conspicuous.

The next day (today) we planned to drive into the Park and explore the Upper Loop. Our tour Friday will be of the Lower Loop. Henry has a co-worker he asked to join us who volunteered at Yellowstone for EIGHT years! She accepted our invitation and it made all the difference. She even drove since my Mustang convertible is not ideal for sight seeing. She knows every inch of that Park. It was amazing. She is what she calls a "roaming concierge" here at the Hotel. She putts around the properties in a little golf cart and asks people if they need any help with their plans and day trips. She's a wealth of knowledge and a lovely person.

Mary and I.

Mary in her cart.

Henry and I.

We saw a huge bison (but far away) and a mother black bear and her two cubs!  We were in "The Bear-muda Triangle" when Mary said here's a good area to spot bear. Then, sure enough, there was a "Bear Jam"—cars pulled over to get out and gawk. Some people went horrifically close to her. We learned to stay 100 feet (or yards?) away from bear, which is the length of eight school buses. These folks were about 20-40 feet away. NUTS.

I have no pics of the animals, but here are some of the scenery.

These are called Lodge Pole Pines — they're used for teepees. I thought Mary was saying "Large" Pole Pines at first but she does not have a Bostonian accent. 

Water is bubbling out of this at the top. There are steaming springs everywhere. 

More white hot steam.

The architecture in Mammoth Springs (in the Park) is great. The Park (2.2 million square miles) was opened in 1880-ish under the Grant administration. The first national park in the world. Other countries followed suit.

My heart has been heavy seeing all this beauty and nature while our president (lower case p for this one) slashes all the funding for anything natural. He cannot have a soul.

I'll close with some silly shots from the downtown area. Tomorrow: the Lower Loop!

Just like the mother bear and her cubs from today :)

They're VERY ecologically minded here, naturally... yet Montana and Wyoming vote Republican.

Fly fishing lures!

And... kitchen magnets.

Di Nota (Of Note)

Home a week now, I should be wrapping up, and I am/will, but I have some notes still in a file I keep for blog fodder. I need to get them out of my system for closure.

1)  Italians have very funky eyeglass frames. The kind you might see on an architect here in the States are worn by the guy who fills your tank at the gas station. Style is a way of life and doesn't necessarily reflect the wearer's level of fashion trend sophistication. They are all on the same page.

2)  They talk with their hands so much I found myself a few times thinking, Oh, look at the deaf people signing.

3)  When there's a sports event on tv in a café, at the bottom right of the screen is a tiny martini glass icon. Like this:

Here's how it looks on the screen:

Fred recognized it to be a martini glass, but I said, No, I think it must be some kind of air waves/antenna symbol. I've never even seen a martini in Italy.

Anyway, this little symbol was all over the Women's Soccer games... then all over Wimbledon. Naturally I went on line to get to the bottom of it. Turns out, a lot of cafés and pubs air sports networks illegally with a personal rather than business account. Business accounts cost more.  The martini glass is like a stamp saying "this is legit," so when the undercover cops from the cable company come in, they can look for it and if they don't see it, bust them. Some people try to cheat the system by putting a decal on the screen itself, but this doesn't work because, apparently, in England, anyway, they vary the amount of liquid in the glass arbitrarily! (In England, by the way, it's a pint glass, not a martini glass.)

Here's how it looks in England (picked up from https://mindyourdecisions.com/blog/2016/12/13/game-theory-applied-why-is-there-a-pint-glass-in-the-corner-of-tvs-at-pubs/)

4) American profanity doesn't have the same impact in Italy—naturally. So it's jarring to hear song lyrics—the explicit kind—on the car radio or in a café, or to see a sign like this in a store window:

5)  I've blogged about this before. Hardly any of the Wifi passwords have been changed to something more memorable. In the states, we usually have that option. Most are like this:

And yeah, your guess is as good as mine about whether that's a 5 or an S. 

6) They are SUPER AHEAD of us on the recycling front. There are five different categories and receptacles in the house: Glass, plastic, organic, paper, and miscellaneous (like "shoes," one landlord told us.... Shoes???).

What you put out on the street every night for the next morning differs. Here's how to keep track.

7) I'm not sure any Italians let a cat live in their home or even come inside. Ever. But I think their dogs probably have their own rooms. They are as beloved as babies. And everyone knows how Italians feel about babies.

8) If you want a glass of wine or a beer in the late afternoon and don't also want a bag of chips, a bowl of peanuts, some bread with spreads and/or mini pizzas... good luck to you. I specifically said, "No need for food" once, and still got the works...

9) Babies (toddlers and infants alike) and dogs come to restaurants.

10) They didn't seem to get the memo about smoking being bad for your health, so you will find an ashtray at every table.

And on that note, Ciao! Thanks for following! A prossimo ano!