Visiting Taos (New Mexico) for Hispanic Christmas Celebrations with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

Visiting Taos (New Mexico) for Hispanic Christmas Celebrations with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

One year after Christmas my family took a vacation to New Mexico with my mother.

It took us a day to drive down California where we turned left at Needles to head towards New Mexico.  We saw Joshua Trees in Arizona.  The eroded rock on the way there clearly shows layers or strata.  I wanted to be a geologist and look for fossils in some of it.  Mt. Humphrey in Flagstaff, Arizona had snow on it.

We squealed when we saw the snow, because we had been living by the ocean in Monterey, California for several years.  We stayed overnight in Flagstaff and played in the snow.  Flagstaff is ski territory that sits 7,000 feet above sea level.  The pressure going up the mountains caused all my pens to leak ink in my purse.

On the way to Albuquerque, I suggested that we go to Taos, which is considered to be a great arts center.  The road there was very scenic.  It was narrow and squeezed between the Rio Grande River and huge mountains.  Sometimes you could see three ranges of mountains at a time.  The Rio Grande River even carved a valley in some places that looked like a miniature Grand Canyon.

We passed many roadside crosses with flowers, indicating where people had died in accidents.  All through Arizona and New Mexico, there were signs that read, “Don’t Drink and Drive.”

Taos was a treat.  I love peach-colored adobe buildings.  There was a lot of traffic getting into the central plaza area.  The locals must have hated the traffic I thought.

I was making a groupie pilgrimage to Taos.  Two of my favorite writing inspirational teachers had homes there: Nathalie Goldberg and Julia Cameron.  I had fun working through their books alone and with my first writing group.

Taos galleries sell a variety of things such as Navajo blankets, pottery, and jewelry.  I found the gallery that sells Nathalie Goldberg’s artwork and had my photo taken outside of it.  I like French provincial style for decorating, but I saw a glass-topped coffee table that I liked with a Wild West theme.  It was held up by bronze horse heads with flying manes at each end.

The plaza in Taos was all done in wood and adobe.  The adobe was restored and painted.  We went to some souvenir shops where I bought Florence a brown, lacquer cross.  Laurent bought a bolo tie with a buffalo on it.

All around the plaza were brown paper bags with sand in the bottom in them with a candle inside each bag that had been burned.  Later in the day, I learned that these are called luminarias and are usually placed outside on Christmas Eve.

We ate lunch at a charming, touristy place above the central plaza in Taos.  We had a window table where we could look out on the plaza and admire the luminarias that the restaurant had set up on its balcony.

We all ate chicken in some form.  I ate chicken mole.  Mole is a savory and spicy chocolate sauce with no sugar added to it.  The restaurant’s version of mole had more cinnamon in it than in the versions I had eaten previously.

We left Taos while the sun was still shining to drive down the curving road through Santa Fe.  We no doubt crossed the Santa Fe Trail, which pioneers followed on their way west.  We found no parking in Santa Fe and had to call it a day for any more tourism.

By Ruth Paget - Author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France

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Going on Nature Walks in Pacific Grove (California) with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

Going on Nature Walks in Pacific Grove (California) with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

A few blocks up from the Monterey Bay Aquarium, you can do three nice, nature outings in Pacific Grove, California – the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History, the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary, and the walking path at Asilomar Beach.  All three can be reached from Lighthouse Avenue, which has several restaurants along it.

Whenever I took my daughter Florence to the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History, we would begin our visit of the permanent collection by watching a film about how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly.  The chrysalis developmental stage is crucial for a butterfly even though it resembles a sticky mess when a butterfly eventually emerges from it.

“Pacific Grove is called Butterfly Town, because orange and blacked colored butterflies called Monarchs fly through it from Canada on the way to Mexico,” I told Florence. 

After the film, we looked at all the stuffed birds on display including the brown pelicans and cormorants that we often saw flying along the beach.  We had fun putting our hands in the mystery drawers exhibit to see what we could come up with – feathers, shells, bones, and so on.  It was gross, great fun.

We admired the baskets woven by Native Americans that were on display.  Florence learned how to weave baskets at her Waldorf School.  We both liked the Pomo Indian baskets that are roundish with shells and feathers threaded into their weaving.  The baskets were functional and beautiful at the same time.  Many were used for cooking by dropping hot stones into baskets with hot water in them.

From the Museum, we then went to the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary.  It is a quiet place that is perfect for a fleeting butterfly kiss.  Pine is the natural tree that Monarch butterflies go to, but there are many eucalyptus trees in the sanctuary as well.

A tour docent explained to Florence and me that eucalyptus trees were imported from Australia for wood, but Americans discovered that you cannot cut these trees when they are young.  The eucalyptus trees were used as wind breaks on farms as those in the Sanctuary once did.

The docent said the black line on the chrysalis makes it a male.  The docent also said that the black dots on the butterfly show that it is a male.

“What are the black dots?” I asked.

“Pheromone cells for attracting female butterflies,” he replied.

Florence played amongst the trees with the warning not to touch the butterflies, so they would not get hurt or killed.

Our last stop was the walking path at Asilomar Beach.  Native plants line the walking path.  A field guide is a good book to have here to identify the plants.  The coast here is rocky with waves crashing.  It is a great photo opportunity.

The sunsets are magnificent from Asilomar; they are worth the walk any time of the year.

By Ruth Paget - Author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France

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Attending a Hindu Ganesh Puja with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

Attending a Hindu Ganesh Puja with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

One day as I was going through Florence’s weekly parent papers from her Waldorf School, I found an invitation to a Ganesh Puja. 

I knew the children were studying mythology and world religions at school and this optional activity supported that.  I was happy someone invited us to their home to participate in this activity.  I wanted to go, and my husband agreed that it would be a good introduction to the culture of India.

I liked getting the invitation, but it took some time to decipher.  It read as follows:

-       You are cordially invited for Ganesh Puja and Resurgence (Visarjan)

-       4 pm

-       Puja, Bhajans, and Potluck

We were to give our RSVP to the school office.

I asked Florence about Ganesh, the elephant god.

“We have been writing stories about him and drawing pictures of him,” she said.

“Typical Waldorf,” I thought to myself.

“He helps people get their dreams,” she continued.

After that comment, I looked up Ganesh in one of my mythology dictionaries and saw that he was described as “the remover of obstacles.”

I closed the book and talked with Florence.  “Your mom and dad are your Ganeshas.  We’ll do all we can to help you get your dreams,” I said.

“How would you like to eat at an Indian restaurant before we go to the Ganesh Puja?” I asked.

Florence knew the restaurant I was talking about and wanted to go, because I did lunches there with my writing group.  (I love chicken vindaloo, naan bread, spinach saag, and eggplant bartha.)

When we went to the Indian restaurant, I felt like I was Indiana Jones on an icon hunt.  I did not have to look very long to find a Ganesh decoration that I had overlooked on my previous visits.  Right at the entrance, the restaurant had a large stained glass window with Ganesh in it.

I showed Florence the stained glass window and said, “Look how Ganesh is dancing on the rat’s back.  The rat stands for your enemies,” I said.

“It does not,” Florence snapped.  “It stands for evil – bad stuff.”

I laughed and said with an increasingly high-pitched voice, “Mom is mean, scary, and heinous just like the Wicked Witch!”

“You are.  Be nice.  We’re in a restaurant,” Florence said as we were shown to our table.

Florence ate tandoori chicken that had been baked in a clay oven and naan bread.  She drank a sweet mango laasi made with yogurt and mangos.  Ganesh mom, me, had her usual order with nimbu pani to drink.  Nimbu pani is a sweet soda with spices sprinkled on top.

I asked Florence what the words on our Ganesh Puja invitation meant.

“Pujas are prayer rituals,” she said.  “We made clay Ganesh elephants to throw in the Carmel River as part of the puja,” she continued.

“Mud in the pebble stream,” I thought of our drought-stricken river.

“What are bhajans?”  I asked as I got another mango laasi for Florence.

“They are songs.  They tell about Hindu gods.  Our teacher sings them in Sanskrit and no one understands them,” she said.

I wanted Florence to learn about world religions and mythology to be a world citizen, but I also wanted to know exactly what went on in the classroom, too.  I was going to look at her drawings and “textbooks” that she wrote herself after that.  I trusted her teacher (he had a master's degree from Stanford), but I have always believed that parents should do things outside of class to support the curriculum.

We finished our Ksatriya caste warrior-king meals with rice pudding and got ready for the Ganesh Puja the next day.  We arrived at the appointed hour at a private home in Carmel.

We took off our shoes in the entry hall.  We looked at framed photos all around the house of bare feet in silver trays of water with flower petals strewn on them.  An altar with statues and flowers had been set up.

The puja began at 4 pm.  We sat on the floor and bhajans were said in Sanskrit.  The bhajans lasted two hours.

At the end of the bhajans, our host told us Ganesh broke off one of his tusks so that humans could write.  Writing and literature are still very important in the culture of India; I loved knowing the origins of Indian literary culture.  After a question-and-answer period, we set out for the Carmel River to toss in the Ganesh clay figurines.

I was thankful for the opportunity to be part of a home-based religious ceremony.  I wanted to know more about India, because I knew it was becoming the world’s most populous country.  I wished the Indian community would do cultural festivals at Monterey’s Wharf like the Greeks, Turks, and Italians, so I could learn more about the dancing, art, food, and music of the country. 

Most of all, I wanted adults to have the opportunity to learn about other cultures and not just children.

By Ruth Paget - Author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France

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Visiting Lake Tahoe (California) with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

Visiting Lake Tahoe (California) with Juilliard Graduate Florence Paget and Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

My husband Laurent and I celebrated our anniversary in Lake Tahoe, California in 2008.  We went outside the resort’s ski season in July and took our daughter Florence along with us.  We were all suffering from lack of sleep due to smoke from fires in Big Sur, outside Monterey where we lived.  We looked forward to a small break.

The arrival over the mountains into Lake Tahoe is stunning.  The road in sits high above the lake and pine trees climb the mountainside up to the road.  The forest made me think of Germany’s Black Forest.  Some parts of the mountains were gray and had no trees or were scorched from forest fires.

We stayed in a condominium that looked like a Swiss chalet with a pool for summer use.  Our condo had three bedrooms, two baths including a Jacuzzi, a well-equipped kitchen, a dining room, a big living room with a fireplace, and three television sets.  There were many entertainment options just in the condo.

The adorable Swiss-style condominium encouraged us to try the Swiss Chalet Restaurant in town.  When we visited, it had been in business for more than fifty years.  The restaurant fits in perfectly with pine trees.  The restaurant had an off-center, angled roof and stone brick walls.

The restaurant’s interior was a treat for the eyes as well.  It was decorated with blond-wood planters of live pink flowers and white tablecloths with red napkins.  One wall had an alpine horn on it.  Cowbells hung from the ceiling, and there was a beautiful collection of beer steins in the corner.

We started dinner with a salad that had tarragon dressing.  It was not winter, but Laurent and I shared a cheese fondue, because we both love that dish.

Florence did not like anything on the menu.  I talked with the waiter, and the chef arranged to serve Florence sautéed chicken breast with mushroom sauce.  The chicken breast came with creamed spinach and mashed potatoes with sour cream and chives.  She loved it, and I thought it was like the meals I made at home on the weekends.

German music played during our meal.  We took a walk after our dinner and checked out restaurant possibilities for the next day.  Florence ate an ice cream while we took our walk and thoroughly enjoyed being on vacation.

Back in the condominium, Florence watched movies, Laurent did Sudoku puzzles and word puzzles, and I finished my “Italian in 40 Lessons” book.

The next day we set out for a trip to Reno, Nevada.  As soon as you pass the Nevada border casinos appear along with nightclubs advertising tribute artist and tribute band entertainment.

We withdrew money from an ATM in a casino in Reno and left with our money intact.  We ate at a Chinese restaurant in Reno.  When we walked in, I said, “Feng Shui is at work here.”  There were stone fu dogs at the entrance, mirrors, calming music, a tinkling fountain with goldfish in the basin, and light pink upholstery chairs in the restaurant. 

Feng-shui refers to “wind and water” and governs placement of buildings and interior decoration in China.  Since moving to California, I said I feng-shui-ed my house rather than cleaned it for optimal creative output.  That philosophy was a way to give me the élan I needed to clean house.

We started our Chinese meal with egg rolls.  Florence ate broccoli chicken, which she loves.  Laurent and I had sautéed seafood.  People stared at us for using chopsticks to eat.  I taught Florence to use Chinese and Japanese chopsticks when she was very little.  I always thought teaching people to use chopsticks would be a good way to get new and repeat customers into a Chinese restaurant.

After a tour around Reno, we went back to Lake Tahoe over the desert side of the mountains to the tree-lined side of mountains in California. 

“All the rain falls as it goes up the mountains on the side where the trees are so there’s none left on this side,” I said to Florence as I had her look at the sparse vegetation around us in Nevada.  The French educator François Fénelon (1651 – 1715) would have loved how I used our car trip over the mountains as a teaching moment.

We drove around a large portion of Lake Tahoe when we got back into town.  We took pictures at Emerald Bay and drove past the Tellac and Ehrman mansions.  We drove as far as “Homeward.” 

Florence said, “I’ve seen enough pine trees.”  I was starting to feel the same way, too.  Laurent wanted to rent a kayak, but decided against it when he saw all the motorboats on the Lake.

Back at the condo, Laurent took Florence swimming at the condo.  I began working on the “German in 40 Lessons.”  I had no idea I would live in Germany one day.  I just wanted to learn the language for what the French call “cultural baggage.”

After recreation hour, we drove to Tep’s Villa Roma for dinner – another restaurant of longstanding in Lake Tahoe.  We ate a sumptuous meal beginning with salads, antipasti, and minestrone soup.  Florence ate a steak with sautéed mushrooms.  I had pasta à la carbonara made with butter, cream and bacon.  That was richer than the way I made it at home.  I felt like going skiing after eating that pasta to burn calories.  We just had coffee instead of the lovely desserts that Tep’s also serves. 

The following day we drove to the French bakery we saw in town the day before.  We bought croissants and baguettes and spoke French with the French owner of the bakery.  He was happy that we planned to come back to Lake Tahoe.  We stopped at a grocery store on the way back to the condo, so I could buy Mexican chocolate with vanilla and cinnamon in it to make cocoa.

The croissants and the Mexican cocoa were a sweet finish for our trip to Lake Tahoe and tasted wonderful in the mountain air.

By Ruth Paget -Author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France

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