Excavation

It's odd returning to a city where you've lived before. Some routes and neighborhoods you remember perfectly; others, once clear, have blurred in your memory, like the crayon rubbings children make of leaves or tree bark. Equally disconcerting is the realization that the mental spiderweb of maps, routes and information you acquired about your now-former city is of no practical use. Which metro route to the airport is easiest for travelers with a heavy suitcase? It doesn't matter anymore; that airport is an ocean away, and this one is only accessible by car.

Back in your new-old city, your friends give you directions full of street names that enter your ear with a vague feeling of recognition, like the refrain of a half-forgotten song. "Sunnyside Road..." you murmur, trying to buy time. "Is that on the southeast side?" Sometimes while driving in an unfamiliar part of town you come upon an intersection and realize you know exactly where you are. And always, your mind is at work dredging up knowledge you had forgotten you had: That restaurant has great salads. This trail leads back to the creek. There's street parking on the next block.

About a year ago, when I was still living in Madrid, I visited a friend in the Spanish city of Lleida. She insisted on taking me to see the city hall; I thought this sounded less than scintillating, but agreed anyway. It turned out that the city, upon beginning an expansion project during the 1990's, had discovered that the building was directly on top of a structure dating from Roman times. It was a little surreal to walk from the stately, ornate municipal interior down a wooden staircase into the deep, dank cavern below. As my friend pointed out the Roman baths (which still boast some stagnant water) and the small prison above them, I thought about the incredible coincidence of the city hall being built right on top of an already-occupied site.

Now, back in my hometown and struggling to remember things I definitely used to know, I've started to think my brain and Lleida's city hall have a certain amount in common. As you accumulate knowledge and experiences, it's easy to feel like the new information is crowding out the old. But like the city hall in Lleida, the mind harbors relics from long before. Your previous knowledge is still in there somewhere; all it takes is a little digging.

Ice, ice, baby

I have vivid memories of a major ice storm when I was a child. The first morning was stunningly, brutally beautiful; every twig of every tree seemed to have been dipped in liquid glass. When the sun shone, the dazzle of all that ice against the blue sky was almost too intense to look at. It was exciting at first-- there was no school, and I thought sleeping in a tent in the living room was vastly more fun than sleeping in bed. Ditto cooking on a camp stove in the kitchen and eating by candlelight. But after a week without power, the enchantment wore off, even for a gung-ho six-year-old. The adults, I imagine now, had probably lost their enthusiasm for the situation long before.

About a month ago my town was hit by a much less serious storm, which left a light glaze of ice on trees, power lines, and streets. The forecasts were dire, though, so out came the sleeping bags, flashlights, camp stove and candles. (It probably didn't help that I had just finished reading Erik Larson's book Isaac's Storm, which tells the story of a devastating hurricane in Gavelston, Texas in 1900 and whose overarching message is: "Respect and fear the weather. We humans do not know as much about it as we think.") As it turned out, the preparations weren't necessary, but the storm-that-wasn't did infuse the day with a little excitement. Nevertheless, I've decided I'm ready for spring.

Have Passport, Will Travel

Continuing the theme of my return to the U.S., here are a few of the more intriguing help-wanted ads I've come across so far (unedited):

• Smooth drummer born with gift
• Handyperson/Caretaker of Ranch
• Marketing Firm Seeks One-Man Wolf Pack
• Livestock Transporter (sadly, when I clicked for more details, this posting had been flagged as a scam)
  
• Writer/Editor: Strong computer skills, excellent people skills, a willingness to embrace new media, a passion for bowhunting and general knowledge of the archery industry also are critical.

Although I'd like to think I have many valuable professional qualities, I cannot honestly describe myself as a one-man wolf pack, nor do I have a passion for bowhunting or smooth drumming abilities. So for now, at least, the search continues. Wish me luck!

Back in the USA

As Kurt Vonnegut would say, "So it goes." After a lot of thought, I decided to return to the U.S. in December. This will probably drive this blog's glamor quotient way down, but I'm fighting back by keeping a lookout for beautiful/interesting/unusual things back in the Midwest. For one thing, you don't have to travel to the mountains to see beautiful snow. As an added bonus, you can be assured of having the chance to work on your biceps at least once a week when you remove the beautiful snow from wherever you park your car. Good stuff!

Another unexpected perk is the people. Anyone from the Midwest can tell you that we like to think of ourselves as home to the friendliest, most polite Americans you can find. I can't vouch for the accuracy of this, but it's true most people here are pretty darn pleasant. In a big city, so many parts of daily life-- driving, parking, public transit, doing laundry, running errands--are kind of a pain that a constant grouchy mood settles over the residents. Small cities in the Midwest are just the opposite; they may not be glitzy, but everything (at least logistically ) is easy, and it affects people's outlook. I recently took a day trip to Cincinnati with my family. When we reached our destination, another car whipped into the parking spot beside us--the same car that had been behind us for the last mile or so. The driver rolled his window down and leaned toward us. "Road rage?" wondered my father, but no. "Are you folks lost?" the other driver hollered. "I saw you had an out-of-state license plate, and you didn't seem real sure of where you were going, so I just thought I'd check." We reassured him that we knew where we were, and he grinned, waved, rolled up his window and drove away.

It's good to be back.