Tumbleweeds and Desert Nights: Arizona

Monday I  dumbstruckenly found myself on another airplane.

No friends, I didn't high tail it to the airport and catch the first flight back to Europe, though the thought did cross my mind. No, this time I was headed for somewhere closer to home and also alien. Arizona.

After returning home from the great Croatian adventure I was bombarded by a deluge of mixed emotions. I was so happy to see my family at the airport, eat a bowl of real Pho (first meal back in the States), and see a lot of my friends over the course of the next few days. But I was also so sad to leave the program, the people, the project, all of it. I had coffee with my roommate from Croatia as soon as she got back and the first thing I thought was "Oh my gosh it was real!" Seeing her meant it actually happened! That it wasn't just a beautiful dream. 

As for deciding to come to Arizona? Well the conversation went something like this:

*Ring!*

Me: hello?

Mom: Hi, do you want to go to Arizona?

Me: What? Why? When? 

Mom: Yes, Arizona, because there are some extremely cheap flights, and Christmas Eve.

Me: Ok.

And thus it went that after a few Christmas celebrations,(including a fabulous End of the World Party) I once again found myself in that terrifying aluminum tube sailing through the sky to a far away(ish) place. 

The part of Arizona I'm visiting is called San Tan Valley and it's environmentally the opposite of the Pacific Northwest. It is flat, deserty, and dusty. Saguaro cacti that yes, are that big and spiky dot the desert along with mid sized bushes that often wear thorns; and 10-15 foot trees with twisty wide spreading limbs and little leaves. Because the terrain is so flat all the roads are laid out in almost perfect grids with little to no variation in direction. This area isn't centered around a main street or even a main town, so everything is spread out and it takes a long time to drive anywhere, in a very straight line.

The spread out nature of things makes it very hard to wander without walking on a highway, so it was easy for me to feel penned into our little house.

But thankfully in the last few days I was lucky enough to discover and explore some of the most unique terrain I've ever hiked in. Most of the hiking I've done is in mountainous, temperate rain forests. This was extremely not that and I was happy to find that on a moderately long hike with very little elevation gain I was privy to wide, sweeping views, dramatic mountains and completely alien vegetation.

The San Tan Mountain Regional Park is happily located very close to where we are staying. All the trails are hike, bike and horse friendly with bikes yielding to hikers and everyone yielding to horses. I found the park by typing "hiking near Johnson Ranch" into Google, was directed to the park website and discovered that they organize short Ranger-lead hikes in the desert during the full moon, and the next one was on Friday!

As the sun set on Friday evening, I found myself walking into the park with- to my surprise about two hundred other hikers. The moonlight hikes are much more popular than I anticipated; people of all ages, from babes in arms to the elderly with fancily carved walking sticks gathered at the flag pole awaiting Ranger Adam to lead us into the night. While we waited I took in the scenery visible from the entrance area.

With the sunset dulling into a low pinkish glow behind the mountains, a huge yellow moon rose above the horizon to the east. It lit the landscape before me so brightly that the high ridges in the distance had shadows cast behind them.

At seven o clock on the nose Ranger Adam, a tall, very young guy who looks exactly like a friend of my brothers' I had a huge crush on as a teenager came out and addressed the crowd. He went over a few basic safety points including that he had brought along a parks volunteer named Emily to feed to the Sasquatch if we should happen across him. He assured us that because of the cold temperature there was no way we would run into any rattlesnakes or scorpions unless we went looking for them. That brings me to the temperature, it was a solid fifty degrees out, about as cold as it gets in Arizona with a few freak freezing nights here and there. Surrounding me were people bundled up like they were about to go snowboarding; in sweaters, scarves, heavy jackets, knit hats, mittens and I swear snow boots looking at me like a crazy person in a hoodie and jeans. I admit, their puzzled looks did kind of make me feel like a BAMF, but on the flip side, when the temperature gets over 85 in June I'll be running for the ice bath.

After the little talk, Ranger Adam/ dreamy boy lookalike started off up the trail and all 200 of us followed him and the human sacrifice off into the desert.
The hike was beautiful with plants and hills drenched in moonlight casting long shadows. I caught myself reflexively looking away from it because of that little voice in my head saying "don't look at the sun, you'll go blind" was being activated by the brightness of the moon. The stars had begun to appear over the mountains and even with the moon high I could make out entire constellations hanging above the horizon.

The experience was lovely, it would have been magical, except for the fact that a couple hundred of us were thundering through the desert together and it was apparent that not all of them were as awed as I was. Especially a crowd of young, rowdy boys that kept tripping over/falling into cacti and yelping like coyotes for their moms. With all the people I couldn't really feel the desert over the burble of conversation, strobing of flashlights and stomping of many feet. So I decided to go back the next day.

The desert in the daylight feels very similar but looks very different. I wouldn't have recognized the trails I walked on the previous night at all in the light of day. Mostly because I could see so many more details in the sunlight.
It was finally an actually warm (by my standards) day, high sixties with a slight breeze and not an aggressive-looking cloud in the sky.

I wanted to be hiking for about 3-4 hours and one of the ladies at the park building gave me a map and highlighted a four and a half mile hike. I would start and end on the same loop I had done the day before but just take the next loop up in size around the first mountain into a valley then back to the start on the other side.

The first part of the hike was once again packed with people, a warmish sunny afternoon two days before the new year is valuable, even in a place where it is usually hot. Once I got onto the bigger loop though I was almost exclusively by myself, passing the occasional hiker and mountain biker along the way.

I loved the stillness of my surroundings; a soft breeze blew but with no quaking leaves or the kind of grass that rustles there was an overwhelming sense of quiet and calm. Most of the time the only sound was the wind in my ears and my steps crunching in the sand between two mountains. The horizon is cut jaggedly by the peaks, looking like the earth was accidentally thrust up into an unfinished but beautiful line.

 The saguaros are extremely dramatic, the largest I saw stood at about 18 feet and that was without leaving the trail. In a place so dry, they look fat and full of life. And speaking of water; even though the sand was dry, there is evidence of water everywhere, every low spot has a channel where a temporary stream had cut through to lower ground. Sometimes very dramatically where big chunks of ground were washed away.

Dry stone walls ftw!

I enjoyed the desert so much more once I was alone because once I wasn't surrounded by the distraction of other people it allowed me to take in my surroundings with all of my senses at once. I let imagination wander and inspiration come freely caused by everything from the sound of my steps to the vistas laid out lavishly before me. It feels like danger, adventure, and also stillness and balance all tied into one dramatic and vast landscape.

Full Circle: Zagreb and Homeward Bound

After two days of wandering and two nights of dancing in Split we were back on the bus, this time to Zagreb, the city where we started and the city where we'll wrap this up. Most of Friday was driving, Marco faithfully got us to Zagreb on time and we checked into our extremely fancy hotel.

le very fancy hotel

Zagreb is in full Christmas swing, and they do it bigger and better than anywhere I've been so far. The main square (where we met Ena and her friends for ice cream two months ago) is covered in twinkling lights with a huge Christmas tree and a stage set up where there are performances every night from choirs to dancing groups to musicians and bands have been playing. Several of the streets have been transformed into outdoor markets selling all kinds of fun wintery things, luckily for me things like gloves included because it is very cold here.

Winter arrived Friday night while we were walking in the market. The streets were alive with people, music and lights. From every corner we heard laughter and singing, various versions of familiar Christmas songs. Almost everyone on the streets held a steaming cup of something or a hot pastry from one of the stands. We shopped our way up and down the rows of vendors admiring all the interesting things laid out before us. I felt the change in the air and then it started snowing. It doesn't get any more ideal than that my friends.

And fall it did, all through the night and it didn't stop the next morning either, I heard that it was the most snow Zagreb has gotten in a single day in 57 years. By the time we were bundled and ready to go to out on Saturday there was at least a foot and a half of snow in some places. Snowplows of all sizes scurried through the city trying to make it possible to travel again.

My first order of business was to acquire boots. Having lovingly chucked my work boots at the end of the program I didn't have any practical weather shoes left so some friends and I shuffled and slipped through the snow and ice to the shopping district.

With that task finished we moved adventured through the icy city, popping into football shops and coffee shops. We visited the Cathedral along with all the other tourists in Zagreb for awhile before going to lunch.

Tesla under a snow blanket.

Srna and her friend also battled the elements to get to us from the other side of town. It took them almost four hours to reach the city center where we were. It was great to see them one last time before we left. Most of us found our way to a brewery/restaurant with the best beer I've had over here and the rudest service. We all went out to a pub afterwards but I had gotten the plague- the newest cold going around our group and was feeling pretty terrible by the end of the day. At the pub I said goodbye to Srna and Sean who left early the next morning.

The last couple of days in Zagreb were emotional and difficult. The next morning I said goodbye to the people from Florida, then a large group of us from Seattle, the next morning and afternoon even more people from Seattle. By Monday night there were only three of us left and I was an emotional wreck. 

And it's not like I'll never see the Seattlites again. They'll all be back in studio in a few weeks. But it won't be the same.

Tuesday morning at 4:30 my taxi arrived at the hotel. On the drive to the airport I got my last good look at Zagreb lit up by Christmas lights and committed the image to memory. It will be awhile until I get to see it again. So somewhat tearfully, I got on my plane, sat in my seat and watched Zagreb, Croatia and eventually Europe fall away behind me. Homeward bound.

----

This experience has been one of the best of my life. It started out on a little bit of shaky ground not knowing exactly where we would be or all the rules of the project having it get set up so quickly. But those unknown elements just added to the adventure of it. I've never worked harder or been more focused on any project. To wake up and have the whole day be about one thing without getting bored or manic is pretty amazing.

I grew emotionally, physically and academically every day. All that schlepping and shoveling did make me stronger, more patient and understanding that just because a job isn't glamorous, doesn't mean it isn't vitally important to the cause. I learned how to work in a group when not just working, but living with them as well. Also, how to keep entertained on a tiny island in the off season is a skill not to be overlooked. It's impossible to count all the lessons I learned, they would be several of their own blog posts. 

So where the heck is Caitlin now? Back in a rainy city in the heart of the Pacific Northwest. 

To be honest I still have mixed emotions about coming home. There is no question of how happy I am to see everyone I love here and how nice it is to see the mountains thick with lush forests of home. But this experience was so wonderful I can barely put it into words, (though I have tried, obviously). 

I'm going to enjoy being home for awhile, but one thing I know for sure that I've been bitten by the travel bug. I've got to get back out there again, and I don't know if it will be Europe, Africa, Asia or a tiny little island no one has ever heard of again. But keep an eye out for me, who knows when I'll be coming your way.

-Caitlin

The Dedication, Sibenik & Split

Tuesday was the big day, the dedication of the site. Vesna had meetings with us through the weekend and on Monday to get everything arranged for the event, making sure the site was ready, determining the content of the dedication and arranging a performance. A week or so before, Vesna talked to Winterbottom about the dedication and he volunteered a couple people to perform, myself among them. So the morning of the dedication everyone else leisurely went down at 10:15 while I scrambled running into Kampor and back at the last minute to get things for my outfit.

There was a presentation in the administration building by Vesna and a powerpoint narrated by Winterbottom that made us tear up. It covered the whole process from site analysis to future projections of what the plants will look like. Then the whole audience, over 50 people, including press got up and moved down to the site. We stood on the road looking into the garden while a two minute performance to soft relaxing music happened with performers showing the potential uses for the site like reading, playing music, gardening, physical therapy, exercise, talking etc. It was intended to show the audience how the garden will be used by not just the patients but the staff and visitors as well.

As their soft music came to a close I situated myself near the entrance at the front of the crowd and got ready. A moment later a loud reggaeton beat came over the speakers set up in the shelter. Carl moved down into the plaza and did a back flip out of Biruk's hands; the audience on the street started to cheer and on my cue I Cha-Cha'd my way out into the site by the entrance to the boardwalk. The rest of the performance is a blur, I know Carl and I met at the center of the boardwalk, jumped down into the plaza and danced very fast to the very energetic, fun song. Vesna wanted people to understand that the site is multi-versatile, and because dance is therapeutic and exciting she wanted it as an exclamation point at the end of the dedication.

After the bow at the end much of the audience came down into the plaza and learned two salsa steps from Carl then everyone danced in the plaza. All of us students, a lot of the staff, even some patients came down to dance. Then, because it's Croatia and I don't understand a lot of it St. Nicholas came out and gave everyone candy and sticks spray painted gold with ribbons attached. I moved through hugging everyone, Vesna, our volunteers, even the kitchen and laundry staff came out to see what was going on and I hugged them goodbye too.

After the dedication a few of us took one last walk through the site. Seeing it completely finished, shiny and new is surreal. Now we have to hand it over to the users, the people that will love it, hate it, maintain it and vandalize it. I wish we could have stayed just a few days longer to see how it's used; but such is life. The project is finished, our job is done and it's time to move on.
--

The next morning we met Marco in the driveway with all of our bags in tow. I think my red backpack developed an attitude problem being used as a dirty clothes hamper for two and a half months, if possible it has become more cumbersome and definitely more heavy even without my work boots and several articles of clothing I'm leaving here. It grumbled and groaned but I eventually got everything into it and it into the van.
Then we drove away, and left our island, the hospital, the project and everyone we've met, off to continue the adventure together for the time being.

Having stayed out very late the night before I slept almost the entire way to Split, which is on the coast, further south than Zadar. On the way we stopped in Sibenik, an old city on a steep hill that has spectacular, steep, mysterious stairways.

 I immediately took off up one of the small twisty ones between two rows of houses, then another and another and another until I reached the gates of the cemetery at the top of the hill (somehow I always end up in graveyards). The cemetery butts up against St. Michele's castle on the very apex of the hill but the road from the city was closed and gated. Over the castle wall I could hear heavy machinery breaking rocks apart. No matter, I hopped the wall and lowered myself down the six or so feet to the path below.

The castle from what I can tell is just the outside wall right now, piles and piles of stones are within it where the construction was happening. I made sure the construction guys saw me before I walked to a part they weren't working on, where the road continued on the outside wall. The view from the castle was spectacular and definitely worth some mild trespassing. From up there I could see all along the coast in either direction, the entire city, new and old town rolling over the hilly landscape. In the bright afternoon sun it looked like a perfect depiction of paradise.

---

Another few sleepy hours in the van and we arrived in Split. A biggish city centered around a walled city center complex, Diocletian's Palace.

 At first glance old town Split feels a lot like Venice minus the canals. They used the same kind of stone, the buildings create narrow alleys with the same verticality, and there are small plazas everywhere that have strings of lights across for Christmas.

 All of old town slopes gently down to the water where there was recently a giant renovation project that made the waterfront very comfortable and walkable. There are vendors all along the water selling candy, Christmas decorations, coffee, beer and mulled wine.

Split also for some reason has many many shoe stores and book stores. I had to put on the blinders to keep from going into bookstores because I cannot be trusted in them and my luggage is already over packed.

Winterbottom arranged one last field trip for us out of Split, on Saturday we met Marco at one and drove about fifteen minutes outside of the city to Salona, an awesome Roman ruin, complete with a coliseum.

Split was relaxing, we took it easy, wandered the streets, ate delicious food, drank delicious wine and spent time enjoying each other's company. Our second and final night in Split we were all at the waterfront at one of the shack/bars when Winterbottom told us goodbye. He had to leave the program a few days early and fly to China for another project. I'll see him again in Seattle, but watching him walk away marked the beginning of the end of us as a group, and I think it struck a chord with everyone.

A Giant Storm and Pre-Mature Nostalgia: Last Week in Rab

Everything was coming to a close with the site, the plants are in, the structures are completely done. We were planning on being finished last Wednesday, the water feature got painted, tested and it works!

A few minor adjustments here and there, but it works, and works beautifully. We somehow have been very lucky with the weather so far, the days have been sunny, and if not really warm, not very cold either. Great for doing construction and getting projects done quickly. By the time we were finished last Wednesday the plan was only to work a half day Thursday to get some of the final cleanup and details done.

Thursday, however, had different plans for us. 

We woke up to rain. Hard rain, and wind as well. Tentatively I dressed in rain gear and headed down with everyone while we started the last projects, cleaned up and moved trash off the site and out of our shop/garage. As the morning went on the rain didn't let up though, lightning and thunder rolled in and parked on top of the island, splitting the sky with light and sound every ten minutes.

By late morning torrential, apocalyptic and dangerous rain started. I've never seen rain and hail like that before. Within minutes the road and gutters were like rivers dumping water into a completely overrun drain at the bottom of the hill. On the site water pooled in the plaza immediately and dirt from the planting beds washed down into the gravel pathways. We took shelter in the garage and under the covered structure and soon the staff called it a day. It would have been dangerous and stupid to attempt to keep working in weather like that.

Through the day the storm never really went away, the rain would let up from time to time but lighting and thunder continued into the night. That evening the power was knocked out at the apartments, and as the official representative of the boonies in the program I went around to each apartment leaving candles and warning about the "1 flush rule". 

The walk down to dinner in the hospital was memorable and terrifying. Straight out of Shutter Island at this point walking between the dark buildings to the dining hall. 

"If lightning lights up figures wandering slowly toward us, I'm turning tail and running" one guy said. 

"I'll be right there with you." I agreed. 

Friday morning I was afraid to go to the site, the damage could have been really bad, and I didn't want to spend the weekend fixing it. Luckily there wasn't much damage, some washout from the planting beds and there was a large puddle at the front of the water feature that we would have to dig a trench and lay a new drainage pipe to fix. Digging the trench stabbed a my heart a little, the area was finished and seeing it completed and checked off the list then ripping it up hurts. Physically hurts. I've had to do it only a few times, but each time a little bit of your soul dies. I pulled out the plants we had put in the day before, under a few inches of water and moved them to higher ground, then we dug out a trench that will house the piping along the side of the water feature and under the boardwalk to the perf pipe on the other side that leads to the main drain.

 Other than that everything seemed to be fine, our structures handled the wind, the water feature was full to the brim with rain that will have to be taken out so the mosaic can be cleaned and a couple other little things like that.

---

Most people went away for the weekend, but I wanted to stay and say goodbye to the island. On the free days I hiked a little to a part I'd never been, went back to my favorite coffee shops, and read in the sunshine in Rab for a short time. The island has become home, a temporary home for sure. But home none the less. Preparing emotionally to leave it and probably never come back isn't easy. Rab has a very unique culture to it, one I don't always understand, but it is charming.

I have met some wonderful people here on Rab, not to mention falling in love with the participants in the program. It's hard to think how unlikely it is that we will ever be in the same room again. Never again will I wake up and say good morning to my roommate, or ride into town in Luka's gigantic lime green van aka " The Candy Machine," or walk down to the dining hall arm in arm with Theresa, Patrick, Mark, or Sean.

Right now, everyone is coming up to get their clothes that we just wheeled back up from the laundry room, sorted and organized. The girls usually pick through the clothes first, generally there is an exclamation or two of: "I can't find my leggings!"
I hear Winterbottom coming up the stairwell making Luka and Carl laugh along behind him, figuring out plans for our final goodbye dinner. Even though it's just the workings of laundry day, it makes me sad to think that it will never happen again. I'd better enjoy it while I've got it.

I wonder if it's because back at home in 'real life' big changes like this happen more gradually when they are less formalized. Here, there is a tangible day when it will all be over. This great experiment will be done and I'll only have memories and pictures and a completed park half a world away to prove that it happened.

Every moment is precious.

Especially this one.