A Stranger in a Strange Land

 Often times while back in the 'home country' I find myself feeling like a stranger in a strange land. 

Beebee bridge over the Columbia River on the way home

That which should be the 'old, familiar', simply isn't. 

Apple orchards along the Columbia River between Chelan and Wenatchee

I blame it on not so much how this area has changed, but how we have changed. Without fanfare or notice, we've shifted our behaviors and routines to that which lets us live comfortably in a different culture and country. 

So, returning to the old familiar ways of doing things often requires a bit more thought as we refresh our behaviors to function the American way.  It really is much like learning new behaviors when we began our expat experience in Greece. 

Science fiction type cloud formation in Central Washington State

I borrowed the title of a 1961 science fiction book by Robert Heinlein, A Stranger in a Strange Land, for today's post.  While his novel was about a human raised by Martians who returns to earth and transforms the culture, my tale is simply about expats returning to their home country and adapting to the 'different' ways things are done here. 

It Is the Small Things

Tumble weeds and traffic lights take some getting used to

Take for instance, making a right hand turn on a red light. I recently stopped at a red light and then waited for it to turn green so that I could make a right-hand turn.  As it did, I remembered such turns are allowed here on a red light after a full stop. In Greece they are not. I'm certain the drivers behind me were happy when I finally figured that out, but no one honked their horn nor shook their fist at me! I just hope I am as kind to visitors driving in Greece who haven't yet figured out the rules of the road. 

Our Greek mobile phone company has joined with TMobile and that merger required that a new app be installed on our Greek phone.  A few weeks before we left, I simply stopped by the store in Kalamata (our go-to big city) and told 'my boys' there that I needed the new app but that my attempts at installation and getting it to work had failed. I call the retail sales staff 'my boys' because they are young, know me on sight, and help me with whatever problem I bring to them. Five minutes later we fist-bumped (our terms of endearment between customer and clerk) and I was on my way with new app installed and functioning.

Spent a few hours here figuring out mobile banking apps

In contrast, The Scout and I spent a morning this week trying to figure out how to install, then make operational, a banking app that would allow us to make credit card payments from another banking app. The app being installed was for a bank that doesn't even have retail outlets within hundreds of miles and calls to customer service left us more frustrated than when we had originally placed the call for help. Each bank's customer service rep suggested we call the other bank's customer service. 

We figured it out on our own. . .finally.

Gift certificate to Elli's restaurant in our village

They don't routinely 'do' gift certificates or cards in our rural area of Greece. So, when we request such an item from our favorite restaurants in the village, a handwritten gift certificate is created by the owner or manager.  Sometimes they are written on a piece of cardboard or paper, sometimes in a blank greeting card, but in each case, they are hand-written, signed and usually decorated by hand-drawn hearts or 'x's' for kisses.

While I was telling a friend here about a frustrating transaction - or lack thereof at a local eatery here - I was told the story of a failed attempt to get a gift certificate at an area winery because the computer was down.  The purchaser suggested that perhaps a hand-written gift certificate could be generated.  Oh, no! It wasn't possible because then it wouldn't be in the computer system. They lost that sale.

Dining at the bar in Yakima eatery

During our stay I made a quick overnight trip to my hometown for an afternoon gathering of my long ago 'cub reporter' friends.  That evening, I dined at a restaurant offering the normal array of American food: burgers, salads, sandwiches and the like. Dining solo I sat at the bar instead of taking up table space. I found the contrast in behaviors between Greece and here pretty striking.  In Greece, I'd have spoken or been spoken to by others who came in and sat at the bar. The greeting usually leads to a conversation.  Here, to a person, the diners sat down with mobile device in hand and began scrolling through it the moment their bottom was planted on a stool. No communication or interaction took place.

Robot service at Yakima restaurant

Then I heard a mechanical voice behind me saying, "Welcome to Bob's! Your waiter will be here shortly to serve you.' I turned to find that a robot, a little gremlin sort of creature, was delivering food orders to the tables.  (Thankfully, a waiter/waitress was still required to actually put the meals on the table.)  Had I sat at a table, though, I might have had a better chance at striking up a conversation with the mechanical gremlin than with the humans at the bar. 

On the Flip Side

Along the Columbia River - we took water for granted before

It has been extremely nice to turn on the faucet - any faucet in the house - and have a stream of clear, drinkable/useable water come gushing forth.  That is a luxury that I bet most Americans take for granted. We used to, before moving to Greece where water quantity and quality is always questionable. There we buy commercially bottled water for home cooking and drinking.  Having a readily available and unlimited supply of water does take some getting used to!

We buy by liter and pay in euro currency in Greece

The gasoline prices in Washington State are significantly higher than the national average and our friends here are quick to tell us about their dislike of them.  However, when we go to fill up and find a price of $4.50 a gallon, we rejoice.  In Greece we are paying just over $8US a gallon.

Manson, Washington where packages are delivered on Sundays

It is amazing to order from Amazon and have my order arrive the next day, two days at most.  Two weeks would be considered a rapid delivery in Greece. (When you live in rural areas -- as those in which both our homes are located and where retail shopping consists of hardware and grocery stores -- you rely on Amazon and similar online shopping sources.)

College football fest while we are back in the States

And, of course, it is great being able to watch American football as it is being played in real time took some getting used to as well.  We don't have a television in Greece and even if we did, football would be shown in the middle of the night as we are 10 hours ahead of the US west coast. 

Our time here is drawing to a close and we'll soon be back in our Peloponnese world.  I'm certain that for a time we'll be pausing to get our bearings as we go about our daily routines in that world. Being a stranger in a strange world really isn't so bad. . .you might give it a try sometime.  Maybe you already have, if so, tell us about it in the comments below or shoot us an email. We love hearing from you!

It may feel a bit strange at tunes, but is definitely beautiful

Until the next time, thanks for the time you've spent with us and safe travels to you and your family!

Other Worlds

I write today from our 'other world' as I call the Pacific Northwest these days.  We are in the United States for our annual break from Greece, our expat world.  

Cascade Mountain Range and Downtown Manson - our other world

As with each trip back, our mental state the first few days is a bit etsy-ketsy, as we say in Greek, 'so,so'. Getting from one world to the other requires three days, no matter how we break up the trip. 

Heading to Athens International Airport

This year we drove to Athens and spent the night at the airport hotel. The next day an early morning 3.5-hour flight on Aegean took us to Copenhagen where we spent a couple hours before an SAS flight of nine hours brought us to Seattle. The third day we drove across Washington State. By that evening our jet-lagged brains were mush, but we were settled into our 'other world'.

Traveling through time zones - what a trip!

The first few days we wake at 4:30 am and are headed to bed by 8 pm, with a nap thrown in for good measure. While it makes life a bit topsy-turvy for a time, it is one of the concessions one makes for living in 'other worlds' separated by a 10-hour time zone difference.

The Journey

SAS plane that would take us from Copenhagen to Seattle

As usual, The Scout, began searching for our flights between the worlds several months in advance. In recent years British Airlines has transported us between Kalamata, Greece and Seattle, Washington via London. That airline and routing, while the most convenient, priced itself out of the running this year. So, we tried SAS, Scandanavian Airlines; the Copenhagen-Seattle route had just this spring been reinstituted by the airline. 

Landscape approaching Copenhagen 

The Copenhagen airport was far less congested than London's Heathrow, and had all sorts of interesting shops, such as the one selling 'red deer, antelope and reindeer jerky' and 7-11 Stores that served as both convenience and bookstores. Service on board the flight was great, and the food was tasty. It will definitely be in the running for future trips.

Canadian Rockies as we approached Seattle

Passport Control in Copenhagen not only perused and scanned our US passports, but our Greek residency permits as well.  I don't think the transit would have been as smooth had we not had valid permits in hand.

However, entering the United States in Seattle was quick and efficient.  With Global Entry, we simply looked at a terminal screen and were cleared to enter the country. It was so fast it took a minute for the screen's message, 'Proceed to Exit' to register in our jetlagged brains. We didn't show passports or fill out customs declarations, nor were mobile phones examined. 

Transitions

Lake Chelan from Chelan looking towards Manson

Now in our eighth year of traveling between our two worlds, I think that we've finally gotten the hang of it. This house is familiar, it feels like home albeit if for a short time each year. Routines here are familiar. 

We've learned to balance our stays with 'to do' projects and time with friends. We no longer come with an unrealistic attempt to see everyone and do every project. After 8,000 miles to get here we are content to stay in Manson and not travel further.  We see as many as we can and do as much as we can within our time here. 

The welcome mat is out again

We no longer feel like strangers in the gated community in which our home is located. We are surrounded by good neighbors; with the exception of 'Gladys Kravitz' whom regular readers met last year in my tales of HOA (Homeowner Association) hell. She is still with us but keeping her distance.  

Tabs, Tipping, Tattoos, Technology

Each trip back is a reminder of how far removed we are from this world when living in a small fishing village in rural Greece.  The most ordinary of things here will leave us gobsmacked. For example:

- Tabs and Tipping.  It seems the act of giving a bit extra for excellent service on top of a bill in a restaurant has become an expected bonus in many retail outlets.  As we paid for a purchase at a favorite meat store, we were given a bill that included the option of tipping the salesclerk who took the meat from the display and sold it to us.  Suggested tips usually start at 18%.

An example of Wine Country prices

Prices have always been higher here in one of the state's designated 'wine country's' than in Greece. While we think we are prepared for it, we are taken back when handed the tab from a dinner out.  The menu pictured is pretty much representative of the prices at wineries and their tasting rooms here.

We've been spoiled in our Greek village where a glass of good wine can be sipped for about $5US. Okay, so in all fairness, the Athens Sofitel airport hotel where we overnighted was charging 11 - 16 euros a glass, just under $12 - $19.

But back in Greece a tip of 10% is considered generous and would only be left at a dining or drinking establishment for excellent service.  Many there don't tip, and others leave just a bit of spare change that would round up to the next dollar.

Tattoos seemed normal in the South Pacific, not so in Central Washington

-Tatoos.  We have a carpet installation project going on this year and first step was to have the rooms measured.  The tech doing the measurements arrived with pink fringed hair, body piercings and his arms and legs pretty much covered with body tattoos.  A few days later, a cable television tech, his body decorated with ink as well, arrived and got our television working within minutes. 

Yes, I know we shouldn't judge a book by the cover, I am just saying we don't see a lot of that in rural Greece.  

The rider-less floor cleaner at Walmart still freaks me out

-Technology.  I am missing humans and that connection we once had when shopping or having work done.  Our reminder calls for the television tech's appointment were automated, giving me the choice to press 1 to cancel, 2 to confirm and 3 to change the appointment. And the mechanical voice told me that if I didn't choose one of those options, the appointment would automatically be cancelled.  Luckily, I didn't hit the wrong key when confirming the appointment.

I also have been startled when shopping at our big box store (saving myself an hour's drive to the next closest stores) to see a driverless floor cleaner coming at me.  Thankfully said big box still offers three human-staffed checkout counters amid its half dozen 'do it yourself' bays.  I've chosen the human every time!

On the flipside 

Fran sells far more than flowers at the Market

I was delighted to see that Fran is back at the Farmer's Market every Saturday morning serving up canned goods, fresh picked vegetables, loaves of homemade specialty breads for $5 and making a bouquet of flowers to order in a vase for $7.  

Teri Fink sells her novels next to Fran at the Market

This year we have, Teri Fink, a Wenatchee-based writer who sits at a table next to Fran, selling copies of the three novels she's written. She, like me, is a former communications director for a school district and was a member of WSPRA, the professional organization to which I also belonged in my working days. I purchased one of her novels last week and it was so good that I bought a second this week.  Her stories are so well researched that I'm learning a lot about this part of the state.

And in Chelan I met the new owner of Riverwalk Books, a delightful independent bookstore that has been a mainstay of the town's retail hub for decades.  Actually, I 'met' Tyler while back in Greece. I enjoyed his posts about books and customers so much that I wrote him to tell him so.  I then ordered some books to buy while here. We finally met face-to-face last week.

My other world market treasures.

Living in other worlds does have its benefits.  It keeps us fresh (after recuperating from jetlag) and mentally on our toes. It reminds us to appreciate the good things about each world.  And the importance of getting out of one's routine and comfort zone. While not everyone of you is ready to try out different worlds, you might find that just a day-long jaunt away from 'your world' could kick start your enthusiasm and energy.  This trip is certainly renewing ours.

I'll leave you with that idea and hope to see you all back again for another travel tale.  Safe travels to you and yours and thanks for the time you spent with us today!

Gasperetti's - A Taste of Home

 My taste of home arrived at our village post office last Friday. 

My taste of home

Exactly one month after it began its journey from my hometown, Yakima, Washington, in the U.S. Pacific Northwest, it arrived in our adopted home in the rural Greek Peloponnese. 

Melt-in-your-mouth meatballs

'Gasperetti's, The Story of The Restaurant' was published as a tribute to the long-time Yakima business and the family for whom it is named. The restaurant is a part of Yakima Valley history, having been operated over a span of nearly 70 years, in two locations, by two generations of the Gasperetti family. It closed in 2020.

From the book, a menu, circa 1945

I liken the book to a multi-course meal at 'The Restaurant' (as it was called in its day). Its appetizer course is the opening chapter; a history that takes the reader back to the family's culinary roots in Tuscany, Italy. The main course consists of some 65 mouthwatering recipes for those favorite dishes that were once served at The Restaurant, now adjusted for home-sized cooking.  Sweet memories prompted by its photos was a most fitting dessert. 

Thursday nights Crab Cannelloni Nights

I was surprised by not only the hunger pangs it prompted, but the emotions as well. It was a shot of nostalgia, and memories both for the restaurant and the town.  It had been 'the place to go' when celebrating life's special occasions: birthdays, anniversaries, or even the end of an ordinary work week. It was at this restaurant where we gathered with our close friends a few years ago to celebrate our move to Greece.

Gasperetti's Comes to Greece

John Gasperetti and the book

News of the book's publication many months ago had me contacting my now FB friend, John Gasperetti, about ordering a copy. I'd finally decided the logistics of doing it from Greece were too difficult and I'd risk waiting until my next trip to the States to get a copy. I was hoping it wouldn't be sold out.

Postage to Greece is outrageous

Then came a message from my college roommate and forever friend, Mary. She said a parcel was headed my way. She provided a tracking number, but its contents remained a secret.  

She and I both began tracking the parcel two weeks into its journey. By then, it had reached Athens. In fact, it had shipped from Athens five days before the day I checked on it- but to where, I wasn't sure. The travel time between Athens and here is about four hours, certainly not days. . .

Nikos, the unflappable clerk at our small village post office, checked his computer. He told me it had shipped from the Post Office to Customs in Athens. He speculated, that maybe it had, or maybe it hadn't gotten there; maybe it had or maybe hadn't been shipped. . .or maybe it had gotten there, and no one recorded it. Bottom line, it was in a Black Hole somewhere.  Another 10 days and we'd have to start some sort of process to find it, he advised.

But what did it mean?

Its whereabouts got murkier when I checked on it this week and found signs of movement, I just wasn't sure what they meant. So back to Nikos I went. He frowned at the news of 'held in customs' because that could mean a hefty customs fee. 

Then he flashed a big smile and said, "Oh! My computer says it is here. Yes, it came Friday!"  He reached to a shelf a few feet from his chair and there it was - my taste of home!  As I've written before, getting mail in Greece is always an adventure.

Stirring the Italian travel bug

Besides taking me on a trip down Memory Lane, the book stirred our collective travel bug.

Borgo a Buggiano Italy

The family's culinary roots stretched back in time to a small village in Tuscany. 

 '. . .the family culinary skills were first showcased when, in 1800, the first Mario Gasperetti earned the praise of Pope Pius VII for his superior chicken cacciatore'.  

'In 1906,' the book continues, 'Mario's great-great-grandson Angelo Gasperetti arrived at Ellis Island in New York City from the small village of Borgo a Buggiano, northwest of Florence, Italy.'

The Gasperetti 'roots' in Borgo a Buggiano

'Near Florence!' I exclaimed as I was reading the passage to The Scout. 'Let's go visit that village the next time we are in Italy!' The Scout was already looking it up on a map of Italy. The village, it turns out, is between Lucca, where we now have friends living, and Florence, a favorite of ours! (Since we are less than a two-hour flight from Italy these days, a quick trip might just be in the offing!)

The Arno - Florence, Italy

Over the years of dining at the restaurant we came to know John and his sister Jean who operated 'The Restaurant' that opened in 1966 while I was still in elementary school. Their parents, Mario and Minnie, had operated the original Gasperetti's from 1943 until 1960 at another location.

John Gasperetti and his sister Jean Gasperetti Lemki

Let's Eat!

The cookbook is a tribute to an Italian family and the mark they've left on the culinary scene in Washington State. I know people who used to travel across the state from the Seattle area just to dine at this Yakima landmark.  A visit back to Yakima for us certainly wasn't complete without dinner at The Restaurant. 

The recipes, while predominantly Italian, also include those that spotlight Yakima's agricultural base, like the Broiled Yakima Pear Salad. Others carry names of restaurant patrons, friends and family.  Brad's Avocado and Dungeness Crabmeat Salad is named for John's husband, Brad Patterson, the restaurant's long-time creative culinary artist and chef. Brad joined the Gasperetti's team back in 1966 at age 19.

Note: Kalamata olives in this recipe!

As I was reading through the recipes, the one above stopped me in my tracks! Back in our Yakima days, I'd never have any more imagined Gasperetti's closing, than I'd have imagined us living in and growing Kalamata olives in Greece.  Yet, both have happened! I've decided this Chicken Cacciatore will be the first dish I make and will use our Greek home grown and oil-cured olives in in it. 

My homegrown and cured Kalamata olives

Thanks for indulging in my trip down memory lane and joining me for a taste of home. I will resume tales of Southeast Asia in my next post.  How about you? Any similar restaurants located on your Memory Lane?  Any cookbooks that sparked a taste of home?

And for those of you who want a copy of this book, they are available from Gasperetti's Floral Design, 5833 Summitview Ave., Yakima, Washington, 98908. Details and ordering information from:  gasperettisfloral@hotmail.com or the FB page, Gasperetti's Floral. 

Until next time. . .

The Reunion Banquet ~ It Could've Been Worse

It could have been worse; I keep reminding myself when I think back to the banquet. 

We could have been at the Bates Hotel and Norman could have been in the kitchen with a butcher knife when Mary and I finally went in search of the food. 

The hotel lobby sign should have been a tip-off

Reunion Weekend

The Scout and I are back in the Pacific Northwest. As I've written in earlier posts, the trip was prompted by my 51st Class Reunion, a three-day event being co-chaired by me and my long-time friend, Mary, in our hometown, Yakima, Washington.  

"Doin' Downtown Yakima' is a blast!

Events included a Friday evening (hugely popular) no-host Meet and Greet event at Second Street Grill, a local restaurant/bar followed by 'Doin' the Downtown' at local restaurants, tasting rooms and ale house. That evening another gathering of classmates attended our alma mater's Homecoming football game. Saturday morning's highlight was a well-attended tour of the modern complex that has replaced our high school, led by the school principal who had her hair dyed the school colors (times have changed - our principal was bald). The weekend ended with a sendoff gathering at a long-time favorite hamburger joint, Miner's Drive-in, a local icon, that's been around since 1948.

The Marquee Event, however, was the Reunion Banquet. It drew 128 attendees of them, 81 classmates. Many had traveled from far distant points in the United States to be at this Saturday night affair. 

The Reunion Realities

We've been preparing for this weekend for nearly three years - COVID gave us an extra year for planning.  And we thought we had it nailed right down to the last detail. But as is so often the case, then reality stepped in:

The Banquet was held at the Red Lion Hotel, a place that once was a centerpiece conference hotel in the city. It shares a parking lot with the city's modern, sprawling Convention Center.  We'd had a similar banquet there for our 45th reunion and returned because of the good food and good service back then.  

As the night unfolded, we realized things have changed, and not for the good. And that's when I also started thinking about the Bates Hotel. . . I do that when we have bad experiences at hotels.

Once 'the' place to go in Yakima

Admittedly there are many types of horror, and this tale has no ranking, when compared to serious, life-threatening stuff.  BUT I can tell you that when you've organized an event down to the smallest detail -- the color of the napkins -- and it begins unraveling before your eyes, it is a very real horror.  

Norman Bates - the Bates Hotel

The Bates Hotel was a fictional location, the setting for the Alfred Hitchcock suspense thriller, Psycho.  The main character, Norman Bates (played by Anthony Perkins) suffered a dissociative disorder and while being the mild-mannered person who ran the hotel, he was also a serial killer.  

While we didn't have any Psycho experiences, I reminded myself several times that evening, 'It could be worse, we could be at the Bates Hotel.'

Showcasing our 'roots'

Way back in the planning stages we'd decided to showcase this land of our roots by offering a selection of ales and wines produced in our Yakima Valley wine AVA/hop growing region at our no-host bar for alcoholic beverages. 

Wines on display Prosser's Viticulture Center

One of the distinctions of the Yakima Valley is that it is home to more than 17,000 acres of vineyards and growers produce more than half the state's wine grapes. There are more than 90 wineries and tasting rooms scattered about the valley. The reunion seemed a perfect place to drink a glass of local wine.

Yakima produces 75% of the nation's hops

Not only famous for its wine grapes, but the Yakima Valley is also known for its hop production. Growers here produce 75 percent of the United States hop crop. That has led to the establishment of numerous breweries, ale houses and tap rooms scattered about the city and surrounding areas.

Ale production for the Bale Breaker label

Despite numerous requests to showcase the local brews and wines, the hotel was unable to provide them. Disappointing, but certainly not the end of the world. The hotel representative agreed to offer a selection of wines albeit, mass-produced: a couple of red wines and three whites, Chardonnay, a Pinot Gris, and a Sauvignon Blanc.  

If the misspelled and hastily drawn welcome sign hadn't given us a hint of the way the night would go, the malfunctioning cooling system in the banquet room should have; but no, it was checking the no-host bar that we first got a foreshadowing of the direction this banquet would go.  

When I asked to see the white 'Sauvignon Blanc', they'd managed to get for us, the bar manager grabbed from the shelf behind her, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, a deep dark red, and proudly showed it to me. Then she said she had added a sweet Moscato to the white wines instead of the dry, crisp wine we'd requested.

Banquet beverages

So focused on what would go in the glasses, we hadn't thought to confirm we'd have stemware and appropriate beverage glasses.  They must have cleaned out the hotel's bathrooms as they were serving drinks in those small, flimsy plastic glasses, like those wrapped in cellophane and often found on U.S. hotel bathroom counters. And they were charging $9 for each glass.  The story of the mass-produced beers - not ales -- was no better.

Finally, we understood why we had been advised during that planning meeting that attendees could not bring in a beverage. . .and we also understood why attendees would want to bring their own beverage. 

Buffet Buffoonery 

Co-chairs get the evening underway

The laughter and conversation had raised the decibels of the room, as long-time friends arrived. Classmates greeted each other with hugs. Joyous sounds of shared memories as attendees were seated. We opened the evening with enthusiasm. Food appeared on the banquet table at the time specified in our contract. The event, with a few glitches, appeared to be going well! 

Buffet selections were hearty choices

The buffet menu we'd selected was a hearty one as we wanted people to fill up on good home-cooked- style food. Chicken, meat loaf (always popular, they told us), spinach salad, green beans, ambrosia salad, mashed potatoes, hot dinner rolls and hot bread pudding for dessert.   

It was the disappearing dinner rolls that started the evening on its slippery slide south. Although at the time we didn't realize it, we had an inkling, when Mary pulled me aside saying, "We are out of rolls. They are baking more." 

'Baking more? They aren't heating more, but have started baking more?' I asked. They'd known the final count for a week.  Oh well, we reasoned, guests could go back for hot rolls when they came out. 

Then the buffet line quit moving.

Patient Pirates wait for food.

"We are out of salad," called out a classmate.

"And we need more meatloaf and chicken," others pointed out.

The bread roll basket remained empty. 

The hot bread pudding getting colder by the minute.   

It was when - with a third of the room almost finished eating, another third waiting to be called and a third standing in line - that we knew trouble was brewing in the kitchen (coffee certainly wasn't as we ran out of it as well). 

As co-chairs, the ones who'd signed that multi-thousand-dollar contract, Mary and I decided it was time to take action:  we had to find food.

So, we through the service door to the kitchen. . .

Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates

. . .and found ourselves in an empty room - apparently it is an outer room for the kitchen but no sign of staff or food in sight. (On the positive side, at least Norman wasn't waiting for us there either, I told myself.) 

When finally, a staff member emerged from the kitchen, she exclaimed, "You can't be in here! You have to leave! We have the chef is cooking, and the food will come when it is ready!"

Not a tuber to be found - 

And so it did - piecemeal fashion - the rolls and then the meatloaf and then the salad; nothing that allowed the line to move forward.  The straw that broke the proverbial camel's back was when the banquet manager reported they had run out of mashed potatoes! Completely - not a tuber to be found on the premises. 

The Grand Finale

Davis High Pirates 

The food fiasco had sent program plans back to the drawing board. Changes made, program shortened, we forged ahead. 

The night certainly wasn't going as planned, so I don't know why I was surprised during classmate introductions when a classmate reported having been abducted by aliens shortly after graduation, getting over it and then adding that there could be aliens in the room with us at that very moment.

At that point, I was hoping they were. I would have volunteered to have gone with them!!

Epilogue

The hotel charged us the full contract price. Classmates staying at the hotel reported the room quality matched the quality of the banquet - perhaps, worse.  Our class won't be returning for any future gatherings. 

Decades of friendship filled this reunion weekend

However, the weekend and the reunion were great! I know many of you in conversations with me have expressed that you can't imagine going to a high school reunion (let alone co-chairing one). Let me tell you, when you've reached a 'certain age', you really should take the opportunity to enjoy those long-time friends! The joy of seeing so many  friends and classmates far outweighed the shortcomings of the hotel experience.

We are coming to the close of our time in Washington State and will soon be heading back to our Stone House on the Hill in Greece.  We've experienced some culture and sticker shock while here and I continue to ponder the question, 'Can you go home again?'  Wishes for safe travels to you and yours. Thanks for your time with us today ~ hope you come back again and bring a friend with you!