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Barry: We are sitting in this exquisite terraced garden nestled against the side of a mountain about 500 feet above the semi desert valley below. It's 5.30 p.m., the intense heat is fading. It is silent except for the incessant chirping and carrying on of birds. A hummingbird has just hovered about fifteen feet away and now flown off. Goldie is reading a book of biographies, wine glass of wine in hand, courtesy of the b&b. The name of this little bit of paradise is "The Surgeon's House." It used to belong to the surgeon for the local copper mine till the present owner, bought it from the mine and rehabilitated it. Below us is the utterly wild west town (village?) of Jerome, formerly a near ghost town. We have not explored it yet, it's tough to tear ourselves away from the cool garden.. You get the picture. Goldie: If the antidote to civilization is Club Med, then the antidote to Ramada Inns are bed and breakfasts. We need soothing after a challenging couple of days dealing with work related issues. Robust, eclectic, impeccable on detail both our hostess and her stunning home have nifty aspects to explore that could take years. Scarlet opium poppies, a harpsichord and copy of a Bobbsy Twins at the Seashore novel vie for my attention at this very moment. Barry: We came here via the much hyped Sedona. The drive from Flagstaff to Sedona on Route 89A along the canyon was very pretty although after Utah there wasn't much oohing and aahing in Van Go. Sedona is an oasis of shlock filled with tourists whom I assume came to see the scenery. The red mountains in the background are beautiful, it's the foreground that's the problem. We escaped after taking all of this in, and had a delicious $5.50 Indian (real Indian as in next to Pakistan) buffet lunch with the locals on the opposite side of town. The little town of Cottonwood was the antidote we needed for Sedona. It isn't even mentioned in our Fodors guide. Unspoilt, it seems little changed from the 1920's. Even the movie theater - which touts itself as the oldest single screen theater in the country, recently did what all good old movie theaters do - Cinema Paradiso style it burned internally, leaving primarily the old west facade standing. The entire town center is going to be "improved" - plans have been posted. I felt I was seeing the germination of a second Sedona. (Goldie: Shefa, you were right, of course.) We visited the Tuzigoot National Monument. Great name isn't it?! It is a thousand year old Native American pueblo village that was unearthed in the 1930's as part of Roosevelt's Public Works Administration programs. When this country had 25% unemployment due to the market crash a huge government employment program was instituted which included projects which particularly benefitted the preservation of natural wonders, as well as building of bridges, dams, roads and such. Why, I wonder, is this type of thing not being done in South Africa (we were just there) where they have 50% unemployment, poverty, crime and lots of tourism. Goldie: Another mystery, that pueblo was active from 1000 CE to about 1300 CE, then all the inhabitants left a hundred years before European explorers arrived and no evidence of why or where they went remains. A previous host notes that my earlier comment about oppression of the Pueblos needs to be tempered with the fact that they, of all the tribes, were not deported east off of their lands and then resettled in reservations. They were able to continuously live in their homes and do so in New Mexico to this day. (Thanks Jeanette!) Barry: Some observations today: On a path in the canyons, a sign on a patch of recovering grass: "Healing in progress, please stay on the trail." A mountain-side building bearing the sign: "Therapy on the Rocks" A sign on the outskirts of town: "Future home of Sedona Cultural Park" - another oxymoron is born. A worker on the road holding a sign saying "stop". I stop and he immediately waves me on. The other side of the sign says "slow." Same thing happen with the next car. Presumably the only requirement for his job is to hold up one side or the other. This is the second time we've encountered this in the southwest.....are we missing some local custom? Goldie: We selected books from our sweet room. "Women Who Charmed the West" by Anne Seagraves, which I've been reading over a glass of Chablis. Biographies of Lilly Langtree, Sara Bernhardt, Adah Isaacs Menken, Maude Adams, Lillian Russel, Caroline Chapman, Laura Keene, and Annie Oakly. Barry's reading (by the same author) : "Soiled Doves: Prostitution in the Early West." Both books are written with insight and compassion that is clearly grounded in the biological knowing of a woman writer. Berhardt's life is very colorful and has some Jewish nuance in that born Jewish, she developed a fear of a Jewish funeral in a plain wooden coffin (fyi to readers unfamiliar with Jewish traditions, it is traditional that there be no differentiation between rich and poor in the matter of burial, so no soul or family would be shamed or stressed to provide an opulent coffin....all are equal in death.) Sarah Berhardt actually convinces her mother to buy her a carved rosewood coffin when she is 15 years old, it often travels with her. She converts to Catholocism. Her career expands to the point where she owns three railway cars with which she tours the West as an acclaimed classical actress. Pregnant out of wedlock by a man of means, his plan to marry her is aborted when his parents objected to her Jewish ancestry. Late in life she has a leg amputated at the thigh, insists on performing without a prosthetic and at a ripe old age is finally buried as a Catholic in her Rosewood coffin. Barry: Some more observations about Jerome, Arizona. The Jerome family were New Yorkers that invested in the mining industry in the 1890's, one of the daughters married Randolph Churchill and hence Winson Churchill's mother was a Jerome. The copper mines here produced a billion dollars worth or copper, enough so that each human on the planet could have twelve pounds for themselves. Gold is still mined here on occasion. It was a hell of a town, drinking, gambling, prostitution, murder being common place. There were three major fires that destroyed chunks of the town. All the vegetation on the hills died from sulpher pollution from the mine.....occasional earthquakes led to surprises like the night the jail slid 200 yards down the hillside coming to rest in the center of the town. Last night we enjoyed a pizza in the former fire hall, now a café, joined by a couple from Oregon...he a fishing boat captain, she an artist. We shared travel tips. After dinner at Goldie's insistence went into a saloon frequent by tough looking cyclists...complete with the old jukebox and hammered tin ceilings.
This morning in bright sunshine the town looks so different, invaded by day tourists
and I wonder if we are seeing the germination of Sedona III.. We escaped the tourists by
visiting a ghost mine deep in the hills. Trucks, tractors, steam shovels - large and small
saw mills - old vehicles of every description littered the site between old shacks and
signs warning of rattlesnakes.
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