Seriously, not a lot happens while trapped in Ohio with a nasty little virus on the loose.  Fortunately, there are hints that it might be letting up.  Who knows?  It could be the calm before the storm, but I don't want to think about that possibility.  Now with Ohio in full summer sunshine mode, with beautiful blue skies, I left the quarantine of my office computer and my twelfth children's book to have a picnic lunch with one of my friends.  It's always good to meet up with Tommy.  He's always interested in my books, since he inspired the first one I wrote.

We met outside at a local park.  Not so many people were there in the middle of the week, but we were surrounded by Canadian geese.  I don't really know how they got that name.  They always seem to be in Ohio.  In my neighborhood, it isn't unusual to have traffic blocked up temporarily as a small army of geese - instead of chickens - cross the road to get to the other side.

There usually aren't any big surprises when talking to long-time friends.  It's very comfortable with Tommy, every time I see him.  It's just a matter of "pickup up where we left off", just like it should be with long-time friends.  And, he's one of my longest-time friends.

But, on this picnic, Tommy shocked me.

He lives in Clintonville.  It's one of the older, leafy, established neighborhood of Columbus that dates back to the 1880s.  There are parks, unique cafes, gastropubs, trendy shops, and lots of families with a lot more children.  There are a couple of main streets, including High Street, but Clintonville has a lot of old houses, older trees, and deer that like to live along the Olentangy River and the ravine that runs through the city.  People who meticulously tend to their yards may not like the deer.  I've heard them described as "rats with antlers".  But, I'd rather have deer than geese, and I like geese.

Anyway, Tommy shocked me when he mentioned the random acts that were taking place in Clintonville.  I've heard of Random Acts of Violence.  Nobody wants them in Clintonville or anywhere else.   And, as far as I know, that isn't something that normally happens in this neighborhood.  I've also heard of Random Acts of Kindness.  That should happen in Clintonville, across Buckeye Nation, to the furthest reaches of our shores, and beyond our borders.  Everyone should practice this form of kindness.  And, that had me wondering, when was the last time I did something unexpectedly kind?  And, even more importantly, when is the next time I am going to be so thoughtfully random?  How soon?  Well, as soon as possible.

But, these are not the kinds of acts to shock me.  Nope, since 2016, Clintonville has had untold numbers of incidences with Random Acts of Knitting.  I kid you (k)not!  There is some serious guerilla needlework taking place on the streets of Clintonville, under the cover of night.  Who knew?  Seriously, how could this be going on for five years and this is the first I've heard about it?

Like I said, I spend too much time in my office at my computer monitor.  Way too much time.

What exactly is a Random Act of Knitting?  Under cover of darkness in the wee hours of the morning, a civilly disobedient citizen is splashing colorful yarn creations on unsuspecting light poles, fire hydrants, tree trunks, columns, statues and even a boulder.  It could be red and white hearts on Valentine's Day, or a Christmas nutcracker, Leprechaun hats or whatever strikes the whimsical fancy of the Yarn Bomber.  Locations along High Street were some of the original target spots.  But, as word on the street and on social media grew, so did the projects.

A Facebook page popped up where acts of yarn bombing can be commissioned (and you should check that link).  In an anonymous interview, the Yarn Bomber stated that originally it wasn't too hard to go to High Street at 5:00 in the morning with coffee in one hand and yarn in the other to decorate a light pole.  But, when commissioned bombings required creeping around someone's yard in the darkness of night, a miner's cap with lighting was required.  (I mean, honestly, you still need to have a hand free for morning coffee!)

The Yarn Bomber claims that she isn't nearly as exciting as people might think.  She's a woman in her fifties who lives in Clintonville.  Maybe she's just a little intimidated by her grandmother's legacy. Granny taught the bomber her yarning skills when she was just a kid of eight.  Her granny was nothing like mine.  Now, I know my grandmother could knit and crochet.  But, when your granny was a flapper in the 1920s, it might very well inspire the spirit of civil disobedience required for yarn bombing.  My dear old grandmother was no flapper and she would absolutely spin in her grave if I tried something like this.  I'm pretty sure that ex-flapper granny is beaming with pride.

Sad to say, there are grinches in Whoville, Clintonville, and a whole lot of other places on the planet.  We don't have to name names.  We all know who they are.  And, some of these grinches have actually complained to the city about the yarn bombings.  When complaints are received, the city sends in the bomb squad to dismantle the instillation.  I, personally, would love to see the homes of these grinches totally yarn bombed.  Imagine not being able to open your front door because the entire house was wrapped up in a yarn bomb.  I know, it would be too much work for one civilly disobedient yarn bomber.  But, it would be simply awesome!

It isn't clear if the yarn bombing has rubbed off on any other civilly disobedient knitters in Clintonville.  It would be wonderful if these random acts spread further across the neighborhood and beyond.  If you have any inclination to mischievous needlework and need some further inspiration, you may enjoy this WOSU video about Clintonville's Yarn Bomber.  So, if you are looking for something to do to brighten up your summer, think about some random acts.  If your fingers just won't cooperate with you and you simply can't do Random Acts of Knitting, you can always do Random Acts of Kindness.  Even grinches shouldn't be able to complain about that.

I just finished book number eleven, "Hark and Harold Angel Sing".  And, I think it has some of my best illustrations out of any of my books so far.  Since I don't have any murals lined up, after all, the world is only barely starting to open up, I decided that it might be time to write another folk tale book.  I wanted to do one from a corner of the world that I have not yet done.  I first thought of Paraguay.  I have a tale, The Legend of the Waterfall, that I absolutely love.  It's kind of a Romeo and Juliet tale with poisoned arrows, people hacked to death with axes, and pretty much everyone dies in the end.  Yes, it's a gruesome tale, but I had a kind of "Princess Bride" mojo in mind as I wrote the story.  It's laugh out loud funny and simply not acceptable for a children's book.   So, I opted for a tale from Burma.

I love Burma. 

I first went to Burma in the early 90's just after it opened up to the West.  The Burmese people were so very friendly and so hungry for anything from the outside world.  I traded every stitch of clothing not on my back for lacquerware and other treasures.  I've never had that kind of experience anywhere else.  One of my best treasures was a huge vase, about as wide as my outstretched arms.  The shopkeeper said it was made by his father, who had recently died.  I said that he couldn't sell it; he had to save this heirloom!  But, the man wanted to sell it to me.  If I remember correctly, I bought the vase for $5 and a backpack.  He knew I would treasure it.  And, he knew I would send him photographs of the vase when I arrived home.  (Of course, I did.) 

My favorite place in Burma is Bagan, a UNESCO Heritage Site just stuffed full of historic pagodas of enormous size.  And, it's where you get your lacquerware while in Burma.  There were not many tourists in the area when I visited.  So, while I climbed around the pagodas (taking limited photos in the days of film photography), I was easily discovered by a charming local kid, about eight years old, who wanted to hone his English skills.  Aung Aung was delightful.  I know he had to meet many, many people in Bagan.  I was just one among the crowds.  But, for my travel experience, he was one of my highlights in Bagan.

I returned to Bagan about five years later, and there were a lot more tourists and a lot less bartering.  Of course, I wanted to see if I could locate Aung Aung.  And, my search was successful.  A very polite teenager invited me into his home.  His parents welcomed me with a traditional Burmese meal and a wonderful experience was shared by all.  One of my sweetest memories was the day I left Bagan.  Aung Aung and his mother met me at the hotel to send me off.  And, they presented me with a golden lacqureware vase that I have treasured ever since.

I've never heard from him since.  I really had no way to contact him.  And, I've always wondered what happened to this kid.

So, these were all the thoughts going through my mind as I selected "The Frog Princess - A Cinderella Tale from Burma" as my next project.  I dug out my old travel journal to see if I had a mailing address for Aung Aung.  I didn't.  But, I did have an address for the Golden Cuckoo Lacquerware Shop in New Bagan.  Well, the world has changed since the early 90s.  The store now has a Facebook page and I decided to write to them.  New Bagan couldn't be that big.  There was a very good chance that they had to know Aung Aung.  I even threw in the name of his parents.  With the message sent, I went to bed.

Well, there was a pleasant surprise in the morning.  I had very positive communication with a guy from the lacquerware shop.  He was the son of the man I traded with for my vase so long ago.  I sent the merchant photos of his father with my vase.  He couldn't believe how young his father was.  Truth be told, this all happened before the son was born.  I assured him I knew all about time marching on.   

On top of that, the people at the store were well acquainted with my friend Aung Aung.  It appears that their store had expanded since my days there.  They also gave tours in and around Bagan.  And, Aung Aung sometimes worked for them as a tour guide.  It would be a perfect job for him.  He continued to hone his English in the years since I met him.

The lacquerware man passed my information on to Aung Aung, but as I expected, he didn't recognize my name.  How could he?  But, it didn't stop him from communicating with me on Facebook.  And, he explored all over my blog.  I sent him a few of my Burmese photos and told him about my two visits, meeting his family, a Burmese meal and his parting gift.  He remembered all that right away.  So, we exchanged telephone numbers for a face-to-face WhatsApp conversation after oh, so many years.  How many years?  I'm not sure, but he is now thirty-eight.

In catching up a bit, Aung Aung worked as a travel guide among other things.  I told him I am one of the most non-famous guests he ever met in Bagan.  But, after looking at his Facebook page, I saw that he had hosted one of the most famous tourists ever to come to the area, Anderson Cooper.  However, all of this was before Covid hit the planet.  People in Burma are suffering just like everywhere else.  None, zero, zip tourists come to Burma these days.  He has no job, no income, and not a lot of hope for the near future.  Currently he is residing in a monastery as a Buddhist monk.  His English is completely self-taught by his interactions with tourists.  And, while at the monastery, he has taught an English course to local children.  The kids worked at the family farm by day, and thirty-five of them came to his class from six to eight in the evening.  I had to ask.  When you teach classes at a monastery, there are no behavior problems.

I learned something new about Buddhist monks in my conversation.  They eat twice a day.  The first meal is breakfast and the second one is lunch at noon.  They eat nothing else the rest of the day.  I would lose some needed pounds if I were a monk.

Anyway, needless to say, my next book is going to be a tale from Burma.  I'm now going to have much more frequent communication with Aung Aung.  Once every thirty years or so is not satisfactory.  And, when I finish my folk tale book, he will be one of the first people to see it.

What vacation?  I know, I was in the Caribbean for six weeks.  I have been back home in Ohio for a mere week and a half.  But, honestly, it doesn't seem like I was in the tropics of Belize just last month.  It doesn't seem like I had all kinds of rest and relaxation with a heavy dose of my sister's great cooking.  I don't even feel the joy of missing the end of winter in Ohio.  It has been a crazy week and a half. 

I need a vacation.

How could all the relaxation and rest evaporate so quickly?  It all started on the last day of my vacation.  I had a small list of things I wanted to do on my last week in Central America.  Nothing was too demanding.  My sister and I had lunch with Luis and Oly one more time.  I hit a souvenir shop for one more visit.  But, the thing I wanted to do the most was revisit the iguana sanctuary on the back side of San Pedro, along a swampy lagoon.  I visited the place about five weeks before, but I "needed" some more photos. 

I should have been too busy to return.

Calvin, the man who runs the Eco Iguana Corner Foundation, warmly greeted us as soon as we arrived on the grounds.  For weeks, I wanted to give the man one piece of advice.  Admission is free to the sanctuary.  I planned to tell him at the very least, he should have a donation box.  Well, the guy didn't need my help.  In the five weeks since my last visit, he added a box.

The iguanas at the sanctuary aren't pets.  They aren't going to cuddle up with you for a petting session.  However, they do know that tourists mean bananas and they are likely to get fed.  Calvin graciously decided to lure one of the creatures our way with a freshly peeled banana.  He squatted down on a little wooden walkway over the swampy water.  I squatted down next to him to get just the right angle for a photograph.  Well, that was the plan.  It never happened.

I'm not really sure what happened.

Something went wrong in my leg.  It felt like a balloon pushed its way up through the muscles of my thigh and I collapsed on the walkway.  My sister screamed.  But, I don't remember her screaming if I was okay.  She screamed, "Your CAMERA just fell in the SWAMP!"  I was almost in too much pain to even care.  Almost.  I grabbed the bag and pulled it from the water.  Fortunately, it appears that my camera survived the experience better than me.  The bag was thick and my camera was inside a second bag.  Spare lenses were wiped dry and eventually the camera and lenses spent a night inside a bag of rice that sucked up all the moisture.

As for me, Calvin helped me to my feet.  I didn't get the photos that I really wanted because I certainly wasn't going to squat again.  But, thankfully, I could walk.  And, very good progress was made at the sanctuary.  A wooden walkway, that was in the works during my first time, was completed.  I somehow strolled the entire walkway.  However, I am relatively certain that Calvin was pleased I didn't stay very long.

As I said, this happened on my last day in Belize.  The following morning I journeyed back to Ohio.  And, it was a long journey.  I walked about as well as any one hundred year old man.  I could only put one foot directly in front of the other foot.  Yep, it was slow going.  So, I knew I needed a little help in traveling.  Maybe I'm starting a new tradition?  The last time I left Belize, I needed airport help with a wheelchair.  I needed it this time as well.  And, I have to say, I LOVE LOVE LOVE wheelchair service at the airport.  All lines are jumped.  Scanning and security is much more lax.  And, I don't have any trouble finding my connections with that kind of help.  It was an easy day of travel.

Of course, I contacted my doctor when I got home.  Did I need rest or should I come see him?  He said that without an examination he couldn't tell me if it was a hernia, pulled muscle or anything else.  But, since I didn't have any bulge in my thigh, I didn't need to come in immediately.  That ruled out a hernia, or at least I hope so.  The doctor did say, "If you lose control of your bladder or bowels, head to the Emergency Room immediately."  Thanks for scaring the crap out of me, doc.  I didn't really need that advice.  If either of those things ever happened to me, I'd be on my way to the E.R. right away.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect $200.  Get to the doctor asap.

So, I'm recovering in Ohio from my trip to the Caribbean.  Walking is much easier after this week and a half.  I no longer struggle nearly as much getting up from a chair.  With difficulty, I can manage to put on my own shoes and socks.  A bruise developed shortly after I arrived in Ohio.  Over a few days it deepened into a lovely Barney purple.  Now, it has faded and seems to wander a little south on my leg each day.  There will be no photos accompanying this development.  That would certainly be too much information.

I'm already looking forward to my next visit to Belize.  I have a feeling that Calvin will remember me if I return.  I'm not sure if he'll really want me setting foot inside his sanctuary.  I'm fairly sure I won't be squatting down for any photos there.  I don't know if and when that will ever happen again.

I recently wrote a blog called A Million Little Things where I shared several short happenings.  I thought they were all interesting, in my very biased opinion, but none of them were long enough for an individual blog.  I find myself in the same situation now that my days in Belize can be counted on one finger.  So, get ready for a few stories, nothing close to a million.

Lovin’ ‘lectricity          I’m the first to admit that I’m a spoiled America.  I try not to act that way.  I’ve been told by many people I meet overseas that I don’t act “American”.  But, I still love running water, air-conditioning, wifi and a constant supply of electricity.  I’m just picky that way.

I had none of that when I was in the Peace Corps.  Yessiree, I survived two years without any of those “necessities” and it wasn’t a problem.  I told myself that nearly everyone who ever lived throughout the history of the planet lived without those luxuries.  The only thing I really missed was refrigeration.  But, it may surprise you to learn, room temperature Coca-Cola can be very satisfying when it’s all you have to quench your thirst.

However, that was a long time ago.  It was before cell phones, internet, and laptop computers.  I know it may be hard for young people to believe.  There was life before these items.  People lived fulfilled, happy lives and talked to each other during meals.

Most days in Belize, I had my “fix” of ‘lectricity.  But, one day, there was a scheduled blackout from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon.  I don’t know what the reason was for this.  I’m not sure I’ll forgive the person who issued this order.  Like I said, I’m a spoiled American.

When we have no power in Belize, the house has no running water.  You can imagine the smelly implications concerning that.  Wifi is down.  My computer battery doesn’t last nearly long enough.  I have an old Ipad that I use for downloading books when I travel.  You may have a device that downloads an entire book that you can read under these circumstances.  I don’t.  I could not read the current novel I'd been reading.  I had to actually dig up a paperback book.  Who does that?

The power was actually on when I first left my home for my morning walk.  But, I could hear the generator running at the nearby gated community with nearly million dollar homes.  I was tempted to make some fresh-squeezed, lukewarm lemonade and go meet my neighbors.  Don’t you think it would have been a good time to meet these people, borrow some ice cubes, and enjoy their air-conditioning?  It was over 90 degrees.  At the very least, this pampered American needed a fan.  It was a long, miserable day.

Ave Maria     The last time I was in Belize, four years ago, I wrote about a local market woman named Maria.  She had a vegetable stand along the roadside.  We stopped by often, as often as possible, and I found her just completely adorable.  I blogged about her after drawing her portrait.

Well, when I arrived in Belize, it occurred to me that I should have printed a portrait for her before I set foot on Ambergris Caye.  I didn’t.  But, I never travel around the world without my laptop and portable hard drive with all my computer files.  I never know what I might need at any given moment.  And, I needed a copy of this portrait.  Okay, I know that most people these days would use “the Cloud” for this.  I don’t know how to do that.  My portable hard drive suits me just fine.

I had a suspicion that everyone in San Pedro knew Maria.  Her vegetable stand is on the main road after all.  My suspicions were confirmed.  When I had the file printed at a local shop, I asked the guy behind the counter if he recognized the woman in the portrait.  Of course, he smiled and said he did.  It’s much better to be known around town for your kindness than to be known for any other reason. 

After getting the portrait printed, we also needed a frame.  Now, this really is why I wish I could have gone shopping in Ohio.  There is so much more variety of frames to choose from.  My sister only knew two shops that might sell frames.  The first shop only had tacky and gaudy frames.  Tacky and gaudy appear to be very popular in Belize.  I couldn’t do it.  I had to go to the second shop for frames.  Their selection was much better.  I found a frame that didn’t make me gag. 

Maria’s shop and location changed since I was last in San Pedro.  Her shop is more like an outdoor stall that could easily be taken apart and moved.  She now focuses on pineapples and pineapple juice.  I must say, Belize grows the best pineapples in the world.  But, I don’t know why Maria limits herself to this one product.  We were not able to stop by her shop nearly as much as we did in the past. 

But, we stopped by with the framed photo.  I love it when I can retrace my steps and give a portrait to someone I’ve met in my travels.  It doesn’t happen very often.  Maria was touched.  So touched that she loaded us up with extra pineapple and juice that day.  I was happy to make her day.

You’ll see in the photo that she took down her mask.  I know some people are used to masks by now.  I’m not one of them.  I find it very difficult to breathe through a mask in tropical heat.  It was usually over 80 degrees during my morning walks.  It only got hotter after that.  Covid rules in Belize are stricter than in Ohio.  There is still a nightly curfew (which didn't affected my life at all).  And, you must wear a mask outside at all times unless exercising. It’s even required to wear a mask when driving an open-aired golf cart by yourself.  (Bicycles and golf carts are the main transportation on the island.)

And, speaking of vegetables, we had to go to another open aired stall since Maria changed her inventory.  At this particular stall, I saw uprooted aloe vera plants for sale.  I had to ask what they are for.  “Do you eat aloe vera?”  The guy at the counter said, “Yes, some people do.”  I had to next ask, “How is it prepared?”  It really isn’t prepared.  People who eat aloe vera eat it raw.  But, that isn’t the main use.  The locals use it for sunburns.  And, the bonus is that you can also plant the aloe vera because it is sold roots and all.

Caye Caulker               You would think that neighboring islands in the Caribbean would be pretty much the same.  It isn’t the case.  For whatever reason, Ambergris Caye is much more upscale.  Condos sell for around $400,000 and houses can go for over a million dollars.  My favorite rental, named Wataview, supposedly lists for the bargain rental price of $18,000 a week.  Obviously, I have never set foot on the grounds.  This is where the rich come to play. 

Caye Caulker, a neighboring island, is for backpackers.

The town on Caye Caulker is much smaller.  Lots of the homes are wooden, painted in traditional island pastels.  There is some development happening, but it definitely has a slower, tropical vibe to the place.  One day, on a whim, we decided to go to Caye Caulker for lunch. 

I don’t even remember what I ate that day.  What I remember is the tarpon.  Now, I am not a fisherman.  I have no interest in fishing at all.  I don’t really care for boat rides very much because I’m prone to sea sickness.  One day, I let my nephew take me out to look for manatees and rays.  We saw them, but it almost wasn’t worth the boat trip to get there.  I was so violently jolted and thrown by the waves hitting the boat that I couldn’t enjoy myself.

So, I was less than thrilled when my sister said, “We can see the tarpon at Caye Caulker!”  What do I know?  It was a wonderful experience!  First off, I didn’t want another boat ride.  Wish granted.  The tarpon showed up at a little dock on the back side of the island.  It was just a casual stroll to find them.

If you are a non-fisherman, like me, you may not know what a tarpon is.  It’s a very long fish.  They were over a yard long!  The tarpon were protected at this little dock.  No fishin’ allowed.  Only the tarpon went fishing.

This little area was packed with tarpon.  The waters churned up as the fish looked for the food, frozen fish treats that tourists gave them.  If you dangled a little fish above the water with two fingers, a mighty tarpon jumped out of the water to yank it from your hands.  If these tarpons had teeth, tourists could - and definitely would - lose fingers.  It was a violent jump with powerful jaws.  And, it appears that tarpon were not the only critters being fed.  As I took photos of the fish, a pelican landed on the dock right next to me.  I got a totally unexpected close-up portrait of him as well.  So, if you ask this very non-fisherman, feeding the tarpon in Caye Caulker is a two-thumbs up experience.  Two thumbs, if the tarpons don’t chew one off.

I Still Know a Guy                 Meeting Luis and his wife Oly has been one of the unexpected highlights of my trip to Belize.  They celebrated an anniversary while I was on the island.  I think it is 33 years?  And, they celebrated deliciously with a barbecue.  The barbecue in Belize is just the same as the iron kettle used in Jamaica.  I know first-hand how deliciously this method works.  I savored it in Jamaica, and I was invited to the celebration in Belize as well.  My sister and I were the only Gringos to attend the lunch.

We stopped by Luis’ home during our morning walk.  We wanted to give them a gift before others arrived and our hosts were too busy.  They were, of course, already busy.  Luis manned the barbecue while Oly was in the kitchen preparing another relleno chicken.  But, they stopped working long enough for a gift.  We gave them a framed photo of the couple that I had taken.  Now, I’ve given lots of people gifts in the past.  And, I’ve later seen my treasures stuffed in closets and basements.  So, I told Oly that if she didn’t like the gift, she could hide it in the bathroom behind the toilet.  At least for this day of celebration, the photo remained on display in the main room of their home.

As soon as we arrived for lunch, I was given a delicious dilemma.  Did I want barbecued pork or relleno.  What to do?  The obvious answer is both!  But, I couldn’t be a pig at a pork barbecue.  I was kind of tempted to go with the barbecue.  Something new.  My sister went that route because she thought more people would want the relleno.  The barbecue was served with rice and beans.  That’s traditional across Latin America – and I love it.  But, in the end, I opted for the relleno.  I didn’t want Oly to think I didn’t like it the first time I ate it.  This dish was served with white rice.  Okay, really, it was a win-win situation.  Every plate was gratefully cleaned.  I was so thankful to be a part of this celebration.

Luis and Oly are from a town on the mainland called Orange Walk.  I’ve always wanted to go there to see the nearby Maya ruins of Lamanai.  You’d think that with a six week visit in Belize that I would have had the time to go there.  I didn’t.  Luis even said that if I went to Orange Walk, his family there would take care of me and bring me to the ruins.  Okay, I was tempted.  But, it didn’t happen.

My last trip to Belize was four years ago.  I don’t know when I will return to the Caribbean.  But, it very well could be sooner than I expected.  And, it could be to Orange Walk.  In November, Luis and Oly have a daughter getting married there.  I’ve been invited to be their wedding photographer.  WHAT!?!  I haven’t said yes yet.  I don’t know what will happen in the world between now and then.  But, I’m so very interested.  The experience would include the wedding, of course, and a trip to Lamanai.  The wedding feast would be similar to the lovo I loved in Fiji.  Heated stones buried in the earth slowly cooking the meat and vegetables to perfection. 

Who knows?  Maybe I could also get my next international mural painted in Belize?  Only time will tell, but I’m excited about the possibility for a million little reasons.