OK, so we can’t go to movies. We can’t go to restaurants. We can’t explore new cities, make new friends, photograph churches, practice Spanish, soak up the culture. But we can get outside and explore nature!
So while we have been living in Grandma’s condo in Mechanicsburg, PA, this Spring and summer, we at Messy Suitcase have been spending a lot of time on foot exploring the Appalachian Trail here. You can access an interactive map to get info about the trail in your region, if you live in the northeast United States.
Here are a few facts about the AT:
Total Length: 2,190 Miles
Number of States the ATTraverses: 14
Approximate Gain/Loss in Elevation: 464,500 Feet
Visitors Each Year: 3 Million
Here in Cumberland County, the trail has its lowest, flattest stretches, but there are still some hills to climb. Much of it runs along the Conodoguinet Creek.
How to Hike Safely in the Age of COVID-19
We have several rules we follow when hiking. We wear lightweight gators around our necks to pull up for use as masks should we pass anyone. We start early (to avoid heat) or hike during off-peak times because NO ONE else bothers to mask. We move well off the trail to let people pass. We wear long pants because of ticks. We are gluttons when we pass wild black raspberry or wild raspberry patches.
Scenes from the Appalachian Trail in Cumberland County, PA
If you can’t be adventuring because of COVID-19, then it’s time to go on some journeys of the palate! So last night I created Frozen Pineapple Margaritas. I didn’t have Triple Sec but Simple Syrup did the trick. Here is the recipe:
Ingredients
1 cup ice
1/2 cup frozen pineapples
1 1/2 ounces tequila (White is recommended but reposado is also delicious)
1 ounce triple sec (or Simple Syrup)
1 ounce lime juice
Garnish: Slice of lime
Instructions:
In a blender chop ice and pineapples. You may need to add lime juice at this stage.
Add other ingredients.
Blend until smooth.
Poor into chilled class with lime garnish.
Enjoy!
Makes 1 margarita. Obviously multiply the recipe to make more. A blender will have enough room for three. Feel free to add extra ice depending on how thick you like your margaritas and how hot it is outside.
When the coronavirus started to get serious, my husband Bob and
I were at a Mexican resort, trying to take one last vacation before the world shut
down, unable to enjoy watching pelicans dance with the waves because of worry.
Acapulco was gorgeous but we were too worried to enjoy it, and left early to start the journey home
Our oldest child, Aryk, was hunkered down at Keele University in England, one of the last students still on campus, trying to decide if coming home would disrupt their chances to graduate this summer. Our youngest, Gavin, was in Vermont, gathering up their things (and their emotional support cat) from college.
Bob and I had stopped working full-time in 2018, envisioning
an adventurous retirement spent exploring the world. We rented out our house
and happily hit the road. The kids went to college. We explored Mexico. Life
was good.
But the coronavirus changed everything. In a blink of an eye, we needed a family home, and to reel in the kids, ASAP. Since Bob’s mom had passed away in January, we decided to move into her Pennsylvania condo instead of selling it. We hustled to purchase plane tickets for kids before borders closed, flew from Acapulco to Mexico City, packed up our truck, and began the five-day, 2,500-mile odyssey north from Mexico City to Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania.
Thus all four of us journeyed toward the empty condo of a dead woman from different points on the globe.
Bob and I, driving 8-10 hours a day in our trusty Toyota Tacoma, worried about picking up the virus from every gas pump, every hotel room door, every person who coughed near us in a rest stop on our way to the bathroom. Shoulders tight, we fretted that the Mexican border would close before we got through, that we would get sick or be stopped and quarantined along the way, that we wouldn’t be able to get food to eat.
Images from the rainy drive home
When we crossed the border into the United States, I cried
with relief.
At the same time, we worried that our kids would pick up the virus as they traveled. Gavin had to fly from Mexico City (where they were visiting us for Spring Break) back to Champlain College to pick up their books, clothes and their emotional support cat, then from Burlington, VT, to Harrisburg, PA. Aryk had to cross the Atlantic Ocean to Atlanta , GA, before boarding a plane to Harrisburg. Both then had to take Ubers to Grandma’s condo.
Gavin arrived at the condo first. He was already experiencing coronavirus symptoms by the time Aryk showed up a few days later. They wisely isolated from each other as Bob and I powered northward, white-knuckled. By our final travel day, Gavin was coughing and feverish. Of course, we ran into a traffic jam in the last few hours to further exacerbate the tension.
Gavin with his trusty cat in Grandma’s condo, getting his temperature taken
But now we are together, and I am grateful. Gavin is on Day 10 of what we presume is the coronavirus (though the PA State Health Department declined to test him), still with a fever, extreme dehydration and no energy, but thankfully, the disease has not lodged in his lungs. The rest of us have no symptoms, but Bob and I are keeping six feet away from Aryk for 14 days, just to be safe. I serve Gavin meals and meds and massive pitchers of water wearing a hospital mask and rubber gloves, and pray I don’t catch it. We all wash hands and doorknobs voraciously. When Gavin is no longer ill, the 14-day quarantine clock will begin for us all.
Out walking with Aryk, always six feet apart
Every day that the three of us don’t experience symptoms is a victory. Every tick down of Gavin’s thermometer is a relief, though the subsequent day it always goes back up, so we are not out of the woods yet. We are all quarantined, getting food delivered and staying inside except to exercise.
But I’m grateful we are together, that we have a place to stay that feels like home. I’m grateful that Grandma left us some unexpected gifts, in addition to the condo, such as two thermometers, and masks and gloves to protect me from Gavin’s virus. I even found an electric keyboard in a closet, which will keep me busy for the next year re-learning how to play. I think Bob’s mother would be happy to know that, in death, she is taking care of her family so well.
Grandma’s unexpected gift
Most of all, I am grateful to be with my husband and kids. I pray we all make it through unscathed, not just the ones in my household, but my stepmom and six brothers and sisters, their spouses, my nieces (one pregnant) and nephews, great-nieces and great-nephews, aunts and uncles, and many, many cousins. Traveling the world seems like a distant memory. Now my dream is that my family and friends survive this and we can all restart our lives next year.
And I am eternally grateful that Grandma hoarded toilet
paper.
Fortunately for us, Grandma was prepared for ArmaggedonBy Lisa Hamm-Greenawalt
Our second time driving across the Mexican border was a bit different from the first, even though we used the same crossing – Colombia Solidarity Bridge in Laredo, Texas.
Our travel buddies on the road. Minzy and Sealy
Getting Us Into Mexico
The first time we crossed, in January 2019, we had Mexican Visas, the first step in attaining Temporary Residency in Mexico, because we expected to stay long-term. This time, our Temporary Residencies had accidentally expired because of the extra time we spent in the States taking care of my sick mother, and we knew we are going to stay less than three months, so we entered with Tourist Visas.
The difference was that this time, we each had to pay a Tourist Visa fee at a cost of $575 MXN, about $39 US. (Note that this fee is included in your airline ticket fee when you fly into Mexico). This entailed the initial stop at Immigration office, a stop to pay at the Banjercito window, and then another stop at Immigration to finalize our paperwork.
The Banjercito
Getting our Truck Into Mexico
Next, we had to get the Temporary Import Permit for our car. This cost $400 USD, which is supposed to be reimbursed when you leave Mexico, plus a processing fee of approximately $51 USD. I wasn’t as prepared this time as I was previously and I had left copies of my driver’s license and passport buried in a folder in the back of the truck, so we chose to stand in the copy line at the border facility and get those copied.
Registering the truck
Next, we had to drive through Customs. It seemed as if every car was chosen for inspection, and ours was no exception.
Inspecting the Cats
This time was that they asked for documentation for the cats. We were traveling with only two because Ellie, the third, was now living at Champlain College in Vermont with Gavin, our youngest. Effective January 1, 2020, you no longer need a Certified Health Certificate to bring a cat into Mexico, but they can physically inspect the cats for open sores, health problems, etc., and you need to prove they have rabies vaccines. The Inspector made us pull out the paperwork, which unfortunately was stored in the far reaches of the truck, entailed a near-total unpacking. He very thoroughly reviewed the paperwork.
Noxy and Kaylee patiently waited during the truck inspection
X-Raying the Truck
Next, Lisa and the cats had to get out of the truck while I, once again, drove it through the x-ray machine. Once they reviewed the x-rays, we were free to go.
Our truck is inside this x-ray machine
In the end, it took us about 1.5 hours at Mexican
Immigration and Customs. Fortunately, there weren’t lines (which is why we like
Colombia), or this could have been much longer.
Welcome to Mexico!
And then we were in Mexico! We didn’t take time to celebrate, but pressed forward to get to our first night’s lodging before dark.
Lisa’s favorite sign
We drove about 6 hours to Matehuala, where we had a reservation at the same cat-friendly motel we stayed at last time, Las Palmas Midway Inn in Matehuala.
Our new Garmin GPS seemed to under-estimate our travel time, by about an hour both days. We didn’t run into traffic either day, so that wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was the fact that many of the Mexican roads we drove on incessantly changed speed limits, going anywhere from 110 kph to 60 kph and back. It may be difficult for the GPS to deal with that along with the fact that there may be few people driving those routes and providing route time feedback. It could also be that we drive the speed limit while many Mexican drivers don’t necessarily do that. I don’t really know how the GPS time estimation works, so this is all just a guess.
We love our new Garmin GPS
Another thing that may impact the time estimation is the number of toll booths. Overall, we passed through 10 of these booths at a total cost of $924 MXN, or about $50 USD.
Stopped by the Mexican Cops (the Federales)
Finally, the last thing that was different on this trip was we were stopped by the Federal Police on two occasions. The first of these seemed to be more friendly. The second one was at an organized Federal Police checkpoint. Here they pulled over several people and performed inspections. They asked me 3 times if I had weapons or drugs (armas, pistolas, drogas) and then had me open the back of the truck and open selected suitcases, even going to the point of asking me where my shoes were in one of them, which I had to subsequently dig out. They also frisked me. Asking me to empty my pockets, patting me down and having me lift up my pant legs. So, that was a different experience than last time as we weren’t selected for the inspections as we drove through several of those checkpoints before.
Nonetheless, we arrived in Mexico City with enough time to
unload, park the car and find an extremely nice restaurant to have a couple of
beers, dinner and watch the Super Bowl (in Spanish).
La Provoleta in Roma Norte – amazing food, great Super Bowl watching (in Spanish)A toast to our time in Mexico City!
On our single full day in New Orleans, we opted for history instead of entertainment and headed to the National World War II Museum. It was, without a doubt, one of the most spectacular, illuminating museums I have ever experienced in my life. This museum, which started out as the D-Day Museum in 2001, and is located in New Orleans because most of the landing craft used on that turning-point day in history was manufactured here. The D-Day Museum was so well received that it was expanded a few years later to become the National WWII Museum.
Lisa’s dog tag
You start by getting a dog tag to represent a soldier you
will be tracking all day at check-in stations, and board the same kind of train
many soldiers took when they embarked on their journeys. It was a truly
immersive experience as, with seats rocking, the train whistle blowing and the
grainy black-and-white landscape flying by, the conductor welcomed you aboard.
Beyond Boundaries Film
After getting off the train, we started our explorations by watching the 48-minute film Beyond Boundaries, a 4D experience narrated by Tom Hanks that used film and other sensory effects, including a 1930s wooden-cabinet radio, falling snowflakes, a plane cockpit that lowered from the ceiling to punch out an air battle scene, and more to introduce us to the sheer magnitude of World War II. The mini-documentary stunningly put into perspective the global threat presented by German Furer Adolph Hitler, Italian Benito Mussolini, and Emperor Hirohito of Japan, the Axis leaders who wanted nothing less than global domination. It ended at the climax, the bombing of Pearl Harbor that dragged the United States in the war and engaged every person in the country in the fight for the very survival of democracy.
We learned how the ill-equipped United States, previously hesitant to join in the war as Nazi forces took over country after country, stepped up when it came under attack. Men young and old rushed to join the war effort and defend their country against the invaders. Women, who were home raising children, took factory jobs and churned out an incredible volume of planes, jeeps, weapons, artillery and more.
The European Theater
The WWII Museum is comprised of five buildings, and we only
had one day, so we chose to enter the Road
to Berlin: European Theater gallery. I don’t even know how to describe the
experience after this. We spent five awe-struck hours being assaulted from all
sides by grainy black-and-white film, sound and lighting effects, real-life
voices telling their stories, radio broadcasts, flashes and explosions, and
much more.
This breathtaking exhibit took us through the major steps in the European campaign, starting with North Africa and moving across Italy, southern France, Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge, D-Day, England, and Germany, that culminated in the unconditional surrender of Nazi Germany. We experienced the shock that troops felt when they discovered the atrocity of the concentration camps and the slaughter of 6 million Jews, as well as millions of others deemed inferior to Hitler’s Aryan race. We met military leaders and foot soldiers, journalists (including Ernie Pyle’s life and death) and pilots. We saw airplanes and jeeps, nurses’ uniforms and bomber jackets. We shivered in the snowy woods in Germany and leaned away from incoming anti-aircraft fire from a small plane. I thought of my three Troisi uncles who flew many missions in Europe and for the first time had a concept of what their experience was like.
A plane goes down during an air battle
My dog tag soldier, John, was a 17-year-old who went to
Canada to pursue becoming a pilot when the United States rejected him because
of a previous broken neck. He ended up doing bomb runs for Canada, and then
England, before the United States decided to let him join. He won a medal of
honor and was a prisoner of war in Germany for more than a year.
Planes, Jeeps and
Submarines
We also visited the US
Freedom Pavilion: The Boeing Center, where we saw a number of WWII planes
and jeeps, as well as the Medal of Honor Exhibit.
Wartime aircraft
Medal of Honor recipients
We still need to go back to see the other Campaign of Courage: The Pacific Theater, especially since that’s where Bob’s dad was stationed on a Destroyer Escort in 1943-45. There’s a whole hall, the Arsenal of Democracy, that we didn’t have time for, and a doomed submarine experience I’m interested in. The outdoor area is under construction to create a Freedom Garden.
New Orleans is about a lot more than Jazz and Jambalaya. If you visit this city, definitely devote a day or two to the National WWII Museum. To get the full experience of the museum, watch Bob’s video on the Messy Suitcase YouTube channel.
We just spent a couple of nights in New Orleans to break up the road trip from Pennsylvania to Mexico City. We rented a lovely, pet-friendly cottage through AirBnB that had a kitchen, living room and two bedrooms, just a short Uber ride from the action. It was pristine, affordable and super comfortable.
After working out and showering, we spent our first NOLA night
on Bourbon Street, a place we barely got to explore last year when we came
through because it was just too loud for Gavin. But this time, with Gavin off
at college, we headed down there again. Mardi Gras is still a month away, so it
wasn’t high season yet, and we headed out early to avoid crushing crowds and
deafening noise.
Bourbon Street is the heart of the touristy French Quarter,
and we were planning to go to historic Preservation Hall to see classic New
Orleans jazz. For $20 seats on the floor, we would need to stand in line
outside to get day-of-show tickets. After a day spent driving, we weren’t in
the mood.
Bourbon Street
So we instead opted to get a more local experience
recommended by our Uber driver, Joe. First we shared a mouthwatering dinner of
blackened redfish and jambalaya at an oyster bar on Bourbon called Le Bayou. Jambalaya
is a kind of dirty rice with spicy tomato sauce and andouille sausage. We also
enjoyed hurricanes, a classic New Orleans drink with rum and fruity juices. Our
waiter kept calling us “y’all,” so we couldn’t forget we were truly in the
south. After filling our stomachs, we strolled along Bourbon, taking in the
crowd scene, and even saw a school band marching up the road, followed by a
small parade of what I assume was a krewe, a social organization that helps put
on a parade or ball during the carnival season, which runs January and
February.
Bourbon Street is amazingly loud, even in the off-season, and the road is closed to traffic so people can just wander at their leisure. Musicians with saxophones, guitars or even just spoons and plastic buckets, entertain for tips on street corners. The shops are filled with colorful art, with candy skulls, masks, voodoo paraphernalia, and jazz accouterments.
We walked about a mile to Frenchmen’s Street, a locals’
favorite area. Frenchmen’s is lined on both sides with lively bars and
restaurants. As you wander along the sidewalk, you can listen to the music
blasting out the open doors and choose your poison. Most have no cover and a
local clientele. We chose Marigny
Brasserie, and enjoyed an hour of music by a sweet jazz duo. A drunken
regular celebrating her 71st birthday alone plopped down next to me
at the bar and I was friendly to her. That turned out to be a mistake as she
subsequently kept hitting me to get my attention, then ranting in a slurred
voice about the injustices of her life and why it was horrible that the bar was
showing The Waterboy and Captain Phillips on the big screen when
people should be getting to know each other instead. Since she sitting on a
stool between me and the band, it was impossible for me to watch the band. I
guess if you want to be where the locals are, sometimes you have to put up with
a local!
But we ducked out and wandered, encountering an Art Market where local artisans sold jewelry, paintings, even hand-made three-string guitars.
Scenes from the Art Market
The band at Bamboulia’s
On the second evening, we ate at Bamboulina’s, a cozy bar with exposed brick walls, and enjoyed incredible pulled pork and a wonderful blues band. If I lived in NOLA, I think I would go to Frenchmen’s every weekend and try a different bar each time! Our last Uber driver encouraged us to try Magazine Street in Uptown New Orleans next time, so watch for that blog in the spring when we pass through again on our way back north!
It’s hard to believe it has been seven months since we left Mexico. A brief summer interlude in Vermont getting one of our vacation homes ready to sell and settling our youngest child, Gavin, into Champlain College in Burlington turned into a much longer stretch in the USA when Bob’s mother, Jane, called us in August to say she had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Enjoying a boat ride in Montreal during a weekend off working on the Vermont houses
So after spending the summer painting a house, tiling a kitchen, planting two gardens, refinishing a floor, staining two decks, replacing windows, and doing more tasks than I care to remember on both houses – punctuated, thank God, by a couple of long weekends in Montreal and Burlington and many visits to local craft breweries – we moved into Jane’s house in Mechanicsburg, PA, in October to care for her in her last months.
While living here, we kept busy. Lisa signed up for National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo) in November and wrote a long-postponed book. Bob threw himself into the editing of his many videos from our time in Mexico for the Messy Suitcase YouTube channel. We both spent countless hours studying Spanish and practicing our instruments (Bob saxophone, Lisa guitar). We spent 9 days in Cancun in November, during a period when Jane was doing better and we needed a break.
The official winner’s certificate for Nanowrimo. Lisa wrote a YA fantasy novel called Elephant Rock.
We also spent time with some of Lisa’s family members around the winter holidays, and got to know Jane’s neighbors in her over-55 community. As her health deteriorated, we became quite attached to her regular visitors from Homeland Hospice, who became our family’s lifeline: her CNA (certified nursing assistant) Sherry, who came every day to bathe and dress her; her hospice nurse Hannah, who visited weekly; and our social worker Pam, who supported us all in too many ways to count.
Jane was able to lift a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve. She passed away a week later.
Meanwhile, we cared for Jane and tried to keep her comfortable. We watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy with her. The kids came home for Christmas break and got to spend time with their grandmother. Bob’s sister Beth came to visit regularly.
And on Jan. 7, 2020, at the age of 89, Jane Greenawalt left us.
Now the funeral is over, the spawn are back at college, and we are officially empty nesters. Although Jane’s stuff still needs to be sorted and dispersed, and her condo needs to be fixed up to sell, we are deferring that till the summer.
It’s time for us to get back to our lives, at least for a while. So we are planning to return to Mexico later this month and spend the rest of winter and half of spring there. We’ll come back in late April, before Gavin’s school lets out for the summer, and spend some time in Vermont before returning to PA for the next round of heavy lifting.
This time we are headed for Mexico City! We are excited at the prospect of living in a big city, after spending the summer in rural Vermont and the fall in this Harrisburg suburb. We are currently deciding between several condos in a safe neighborhood – Condesa, Roma Norte or Polanco – near a huge park (a requirement for us as runners). We are also looking at language schools, because we plan to study Spanish every day, at least for the first month, the way we did in Tlaquepaque last year. It will only be for two hours a day this time, because Lisa is editing her book and we want time to enjoy the city.
We’ll keep you posted as things develop! Right now the plan is to leave Jan. 28 and drive our trusty Toyota Tacoma (with two cats on board; the third now lives with Gavin at school) slowly south, stopping in Cincinnati, Memphis and Austin on the way so we can see some friends and take some breaks from the road. We should arrive in CDMX (Ciudad de Mexico, Spanish for Mexico City) on Super Bowl Sunday.
Beto (Bob) is developing his video editing skills, and working on putting the many videos he has made over the past year of traveling in Europe and then Mexico up onto the Messy Suitcase YouTube Channel!
After toting his GoPro all over Mexico, and now Vermont, plus the drives back and forth, he’s just learning how to edit the footage, so please be patient, and feel to comment with words of encouragement. Each video will get better, and they will be packed with fascinating info and our illuminating comments and observations.
We’ll hope you’ll follow our the Messy Suitcase YouTube Channel, and ring the bell to be notified as we put more videos up. We are also open to new ideas!
Bob and I just did our first almost 1-er in Burlington! (As opposed to the multiple 14ers Bob did back in Colorado.)
We hiked up Mt. Philo on a recent Sunday while visiting Burlington for Champlain College Family Weekend. Mt. Philo State Park, which sits atop 968-foot Mt. Philo about 13 miles south of Burlington, was created as Vermont’s first Vermont State Park in 1924. With 237 acres offering breathtaking views of the Lake Champlain Valley and New York’s Adirondack Mountains, the park is a favorite of local hikers, picnickers, and even college students.
The hike was short but steep and challenging. The view of the Vermont countryside and Lake Champlain from the top was spectacular. We also found inspirational poetry at the top …
… and we loved the message in the field below.
There are several camping sites at the top, as well as a group cabin, and we were surprised to see they were not in use. The best part was the Adirondack chairs that beckoned us to sit and enjoy the beautiful day and the view.
We met a couple of artists on our way down painting the view with watercolors.
