US Borax shut down their mining operation in Ryan back in the 1920s. Since then it has been used as a backdrop in the opening scene of Spartacus and in a few episodes of Death Valley Days. Other than that, Ryan has been a ghost town, gradually succumbing to the baking Death Valley sun. However, Ryan comes alive every spring, when US Borax allows San Jose State University to conduct its annual spring break course: "Field Studies in the Natural History of Death Valley". Scientists and students sweep borate dust off rotting 80-year-old mattresses, chase scorpions out of their fiber-extruding gashes, [View Full Entry]

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In early September I returned to Santa Cruz. The weekend before I traded my Benz in on a new Civic Coup. I figure what I'll lose in sex appeal I'll pick up in savings on operating expenses. I threw a birthday/welcome home party for myself a week later. Still later in the month I visited Debra in Boise. She was kind enough to take me to the National Fast Draw Championships in Idaho City. October began with a visit from cousin Monte, the one man party! [View Full Entry]

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I should be back in my house in Santa Cruz this week. I've been couch surfing in San Francisco. Yesterday I caught the 40th anniversary of the Summer of Love in Speedway Meadow. Nostalgia is a strange sad drug. You can't help think about the people who were there then and are elsewhere now. You can travel the wide world and never see weirdness like this. I don't know, maybe there's something like this on Venus. [View Full Entry]

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Dalmatia Coast Our bus is clinging to the cliffs and Debra is asleep on my shoulder, so I have to write between the curves and only moving my wrist. We are returning to Split after several nights in Dubrovnik, Athens of Croatia, Pearl of the Adriatic. Dubrovnik is located at the very tip of this crescent-shaped country. The border with Bosnia-Herzegovina runs so close to the east that along one five mile stretch it actually touches the Adriatic, cutting Croatia into two pieces and forcing us through a pair of border crossings. The ragged borders suggest the shreds that Yugoslavia was [View Full Entry]

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Playing house with Debra these past two weeks has triggered memories of my former identity as one of two. I am surprised by how distant these memories feel. Has my life really changed that much? Am I now officially "the single guy?" Of course I had to note the equal remoteness of my memories of my former wife. Life is strange. We've been to lots of concerts, restaurants, and parties. Despite the fun I noticed a curious melancholy in my emotional background. It took me a few days to realize that it was caused by the looming imminence of my departure [View Full Entry]

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This from my journal while riding the train from Montreux to Luzerne: "Switzerland is the kind of country I would have invented if it didn't already exist." It's Disney-esque. It's Heidi-esque. It's even a bit Python-esque I realized when I noticed that some of my fellow travelers were dressed in suits but wear hiking boots and have ski poles sticking out of their rucksacks. I want to know where they work. Don't like mountains and lakes? Then move here for the progressive attitude. Take the car sharing system, for example. If you need one, just come pick one up. If it's [View Full Entry]

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I got rave reviews as a tour guide from the guys I took to Georgia a few weeks ago, so this weekend Cyrus wanted me to take him. I can't imagine why. If Seinfeld was the show about nothing, then my tours are the tours about nothing. I sit on Nino's balcony and read. Sometimes I sit in a cafe, usually the same ones. I don't go to old churches, I don't go to cultural events, and I don't go anywhere that's hot. Getting There The marshrutka (mini-van) ride from Yerevan to Tbilisi takes about 6 hours, counting the two hours [View Full Entry]

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The Good Life "A toast to our beautiful lives." That's Suesue, the Persian-Berkeley Architect-Archaeologist toasting with David's special cognac. We had just finished a miraculous Persian feast she and some of the other girls had whipped up in honor of my visit to Erebuni House. That's the mansion on the far side of Yerevan where the Erebuni Seven (i.e., the Berkeley team excavating Erebuni) are headquartered. I had been invited to Erebuni House ostensibly to fix Felix's new laptop. He was trying to install Microsoft Office. Each time it prompted him for the product identification number, he typed in the number [View Full Entry]

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Sitting on Nino's balcony It's past midnight. I hear voices, distant TVs. I see headlights race up the hill on the far side of the river. I read, write, contemplate. I'm reading The Moor's Last Sigh by (Sir) Rushdie. I copy passages that speak to me into my journal: (She) drank her own bitterness and called it sweet, walked in her own desert and called it lush ... If Nino were here there would be endless Georgian toasts and bottomless glasses of strong liquor. Suddenly, skyrockets explode in the sky. I am literally thrilled by my private show. Traveler Tales Getting [View Full Entry]

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Dream #115 Although I no longer need to take melatonin for jetlag, I still have weird dreams. I dreamed that I had a disease. The recommended treatment was that I be shot on Tuesday. I had a final conversation with my ex-wife, but she was speechless for one reason or another. Even in my dreams I can't invent words for her to say. On Tuesday I wasn't nervous about being shot. When the doctor pulled the trigger I awoke wondering if waking is death to the dreamer. The Diggers David Stronach made an appearance at the University earlier this week. He's [View Full Entry]

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