D is for Downtown Coos Bay

Today’s blog is a departure from the series of motorcycle stories.

 

Steve Prefontaine

Judy and I met up with our friend Laurie Saturday morning as we and hundreds of others gathered in downtown Coos Bay for the start of the 35^th annual Prefontaine Memorial Run. It was already hot in this little coastal town.

It was Laurie’s 34^th consecutive year to run. Now, that deserves a trophy right there.

 

“Well, are you ready?” she asked, pink hat in hand and a smile on her face.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve got my chewing gum and my orthotics. My toe spacers are in place, and I’m wearing my knee compression sleeve.”  Dang, I thought, I forgot to take my ibuprofen! 

The two-mile “Fun Walk” (up and down a hilly downtown course, I might add) was my event. Laurie and Judy would participate in the 10K run/walk that retraced hometown track star Steve Prefontaine’s training route.

Judy, Laurie, me, and Patti

 

Jan, me, and Mary M.

We met up with our buddies in front of the Coos Bay Art Museum for our usual pre-race photo shoot. Many of them had trained the last ten weeks at Downtown Health & Fitness, our friendly combination social club and fitness center. I could feel the energy as they moved around, and I listened to their talk.

“I’m going to jog more this year,” one said as she walked back and forth.

“I just want to finish and be upright,” came from another.

Steve Prefontaine’s sister squeezed the starter gun’s trigger to begin the race, and we were off. Judy and I parted as we two-milers hung at the rear to give way to the serious 10K runners. 

The sight from the back of the pack as we turned up Central Avenue was spectacular. As far as we could see, a flood of florescent yellow dotted with bright pink filled the entire roadway and climbed the hill toward where the street curved. It was like a lava flow in reverse.

As I made the turn onto 11^th, which leads into the Marshfield High stadium, it was lined with people of all ages urging all of us on. And in the stadium bleachers, more friends waited to cheer as we crossed the finish line.

I rested a bit then waited near the finish line to try to get photos of our friends as they came in.

Marilyn

Laurie

Patti

Jan and Mary P

Laurie was with me as we watched for Judy to come in. Red-faced and drenched from sweat and water that kind bystanders sprayed on the runners as they passed, Judy jogged down the stretch and into the chute. 

 

 Her time of 1:24:55 earned her a 1^st Place trophy in the senior division, or as she said, "the old lady group." 
Yea, Judy!

 

Judy & Linda Prefontaine

 

Downtown Coos Bay -- where the Prefontaine is followed by a big parade with marching bands, an evening rolling car show, and a sock hop. All part of the Bay Area Fun Festival.

~ xoA ~

La Musica in the San Miguel Air

February brought Judy and me back to San Miguel de Allende. This time, our Bakersfield friend Dennis traveled along with us. We’re living in our same apartment complex on Animas; Judy and I on the ground level in the Ricardo Montalban, and Dennis above us in the Dolores del Rio. 

It was Constitution Day weekend, and we’d heard that the Navy Band would perform. But, checking further, we discovered that instead, a high school symphony group would be playing in a park “just a couple blocks behind la Parroquia.” We’d started out around the west end of, la Parroquia, San Miguel’s most famous edificio, when sounds of an exuberant band erupted in the opposite direction.

A quick turn-about, and we were on the trail, a block or two behind the black-and-orange-costumed musicians and a crowd of revelers whose cowboy hats topped off their western garb. Even from a distance, we could see that they were doing a dance march as they followed the band, Pied-Piper like.

Thanks to traffic bottlenecks, we soon caught up to them after they turned on Calle Recreo, whipping out our cameras on the run. For the next several blocks, we wove through the crowd of onlookers, everyone vying for a good photo position.

 

 The procession stopped at the historic public lavanderias, the outdoor tubs where, in the old days, the women congregated to do their families’ wash. There, the festivities continued with music and dancing. We observed through our camera view-finders, clicking away. 

Then, we heard strains of a different type of music coming from the direction el Parque Benito Juarez, two blocks away. Following the sound through the park’s well-lit brick paths, we came upon a spot that opened up into a circle. There, a drum and bugle corps practiced, playing with enthusiasm and precision. A group of young men and women, encouraged by their spirited leader, entertained us for several minutes before we moved on in search of the orchestral group we’d expected to hear this night.

Further into el Parque Juarez, and through paths that wound past the many flower vendors still in place from the Feria de la Candelaria, we picked up the sounds of violins coming from the center court. There on the stage, sawing away, sat 15 or 20 youthful violinists and their teacher, with an accompanist at the piano. We’d arrived in time to hear only the last two numbers of the evening before they abruptly held their bows at attention, stood bathed in the light and applause, then marched off the stage.

Later, we passed through el jardin on our way home and came upon mariachis serenading a group, who had prime seating on the wrought iron benches facing la Parroquia. Some of the on-lookers sang word-for-word, note-for-note, with the musicians. Some danced or pulled others’ hands, urging them to rise and move with the music. 

Enchanted by this entire scene -- the voices, the crowd, the music, the view -- and the melodic variety the evening held, we couldn’t help but marvel at the magic of San Miguel.

~ xoA ~

Further Travel Encounters

Bern, Switzerland

Our recent trip to Switzerland put Judy and me in touch with many fine folks. Some were native Swiss. Others had emigrated to this beautiful land. Some were passing through. 

Murten was a village that we enjoyed so much after making a day trip there, we decided to return later and make it our home base. On that first Saturday, we came upon Martin, a farmer with a stand at the Farmers’ Market. After we’d admired his pears, he asked us in English if we’d ever tasted mini-kiwis and gave us samples of the tasty little fruit.

After purchasing some kiwis, we continued our conversation with Martin; he wanted to know where we were from. Then, in addition to telling us about his trips to the United States, he gave us a history of Murten and a nearby village that had been a Roman capital. We mentioned that we liked the area and would enjoy coming back. That’s when he was kind enough to find out about reasonably-priced hotels in a town where another vendor lived and come back to us with the name of a possible place. 

We bid Martin and his wife goodbye, but that wasn’t the last that we saw of him. After our pastry and hot chocolate stop in a village tea room, we came across Martin, this time walking on the street. As if he’d known us a long time, he introduced us to a lady who’d been walking with him. She had grown up in Murten and told us about her family and youthful years there.

We rode the trains every day, which provided many opportunities to meet interesting people. Before the trip, we had no idea that we would come upon such diversity in Switzerland. The 19-year-old Russian woman whom we met at the train station in Gruyeres was studying in Switzerland for her ninth year. The couple from The Domincan Republic who had moved to Vevey, where the wife was an executive for the Nestlé Corporation.  A businessman in Neuchatel, seeing us consulting our guide book and maps, stopped and directed us from the train station to the old town so we could find the Tourist Information Center by the lake.

Oswald from Cameroon was our seatmate on the train from Lausanne when we returned to Murten. He’d lived in Spain for eight years and had recently come to Lausanne to take an electrician course in hopes of getting a better job. When we introduced ourselves, a huge grin broke out on his face, and he looked at Judy and said, “My sister’s name.”  In perfect English, he told us about growing up in Cameroon, a bilingual country where English is spoken. Oswald told us about his family, scattered over three continents, that includes a daughter who had just celebrated her first birthday. It was priceless when he reached for his phone to show us a picture of her.

One of our day trips was to Leysin, a mountain village that is also the home of the Swiss Hotel Management School. A charismatic young man behind the counter of the student-run coffee shop asked, “How you want it, I can make you anything!” As it turned out, Hans Christian Benvenuto, from Indonesia, made and served us a perfect, creamy, blended, chocolaty, iced coffee that was topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream. It was, indeed, just the way we like it. He has a perfect persona for his chosen vocation in hospitality and delighted us with his poise and conversation. When I asked about the origin of his name, he said, “I’m a mixture of everything.”

Mali Freidli runs a bed and breakfast in her lovely home in Murten, just five minutes’ walk from the train station. We landed on her doorstep after heavy paint and varnish smells in the hotel we’d booked sent us looking for other accommodations. One glance at her bright, light, spacious guest room with a patio, and we knew we’d scored. Our first night with her, she and I visited over tea. An Indian woman born in South Africa, Mali lived through Apartheid and returned home to rejoice and celebrate Nelson Mandela’s release from prison. This exuberant, gracious woman changed our stay from ‘miserable’ to ‘delightful.’

Judy and I are grateful for every person whom we encountered, every conversation, every lesson; every opportunity to bring the world inside our lives. We may look the same as when we left, but we are forever changed.

~ xoA ~

Harvest Lunch

We stood in line for veggies. In my younger days, when I was cultivating a close personal relationship with at least twenty-five of Baskin-Robbins’s 31 Flavors, never did I imagine eagerly awaiting a luncheon harvested from the gardens of friends and neighbors. But, the annual Harvest Lunch in Coos Bay is irresistible. It’s a perfect introduction to some vegetables that folks may never have tasted -- or ones they might feel hesitant to cook at home. 

For seven years now, the Southwest Community Garden Association and Chef Jardin Kazaar of Black Market Gourmet have cooked up a bounteous vegetable feast that’s worth standing in line to get.

Master gardeners provide the produce from their community garden plots and from their own home gardens as well. Kristen and Jardin Kazaar and their staff prep all the food and transport it, along with their portable grill and other catering gear, and orchestrate the whole event.

Patrons pour out of downtown offices and businesses, hustling to Ladybug Landing, the site of the original community garden in this area. Today, four additional community gardens thrive in nearby towns throughout Coos County. 

 Walking down our hill to the garden, Judy and I found our friend Karen (who is also one of the community garden founders) greeting everyone. A number of our buddies already had gathered. About half had just worked out together at the fitness center’s morning classes. For some of us, it was the chance to get together with folks whom we’d not yet seen this summer.

We helped ourselves to homegrown leaf lettuce with cherry tomatoes, drizzling Black Market Gourmet’s delicious, from-scratch raspberry vinaigrette over the top. Next, a marinated salad of yellow squash, cucumbers, and tomatoes awaited. We made our way down the line, where Jessica and Chef Jardin heaped our plates with rice and curry and a stir-fried vegetable mélange containing an assortment of greens, eggplant, squash, onions, green beans, and whatever else the master gardeners had harvested. It was colorful, gorgeous and delicious! And, healthy.

This event is one more opportunity for community bonding. We get to take in the lovely fall garden surroundings and soak up the beauty and peacefulness of the garden. One thing I loved was seeing all the people seated on bales of hay amongst the raised beds in the garden proper, visiting and eating.

Designated “runners” dashed in to pick up lunch for their co-workers. These angels swooped in and carted away stacks of take out cartons. Someone in line said, “We’ve been waiting all year for this!”

But, it wasn’t all veggies. Dessert was a mixture of freshly-picked berries cascading over a yummy, local vanilla ice cream. (Eat your heart out, Baskin-Robbins!). It was a perfect ending to the Harvest Lunch of 2012.

Now we wait, already anticipating next year.

~ xoA ~