Spotted Lisa November 3 - 19, 2006 Where else would Russians build a fortress than on the edge of mushroom-rich forest?

	Marching ahead!

	Kids enjoy autumn

At the end of October, by Tom's birthday, we used to browse outdoors barefoot and wearing t-shirts, but November brought a real autumn. Even during the day, we often huddle in sweatshirts, and you can forget sandals. Outing the kids has complicated with the shift in time. When they sleep till four or four thirty in the afternoon, it is often dark outside before we really get organized enough to get out. Occasionally, it even rains.

On such gloomy Friday morning, Jana and I agreed to trip out to a children's museum, which was supposed to be located in Palo Alto. Comrades must have made a mistake somewhere, for we could not find it -- and time was running out. Eventually we opted to releasing the children in Rancho San Antonio. Should we get rained on, well, the kids would get wet, but at least they would have been out. I was actually packing some rain boots for them (did I not tell you that our bus can hold everything?), and so my offspring could splash through puddles. Jana's twins were not supposed to -- but they did.

In the end, the weather turned out just fine and I almost regretted having forced them into the boots -- we walked a long stretch, kids oscillated around, climbed up on trees, jumped into puddles and generally enjoyed open space freedom -- perhaps they would have used their regular boots better. Lisa suffered mentally - on one hand she wanted to stay attached to me, get carried, ride in the stroller and babble with me and Jana, on the other hand the three boys kept on inventing new interesting games and she could not keep up. The boys even began hunting some "wild" deer. I'm not sure if it was instinctive or pure enthusiasm, but they all got very much carried away by the pursuit. Fortunately, the deer soon lost interest and disappeared with a elegant jump over the fence.

I did not expect so much cooperation from the weather, nor did I anticipate reaching our destination -- a small farm. Thus kids were able to see rabbits, chickens, sheep and pigs. As we settled down for a picnic, I realized I had nothing packed along, for we usually return home for the lunch; we were forced to be Jana's guests. The way back was a bit more difficult, Tom was getting more tired but eventually finished it on his own two feet. He had no choice; Lisa takes up the whole stroller.

	For our Californians, Tom and Lisa, ocean coast has been the most favorite trip spot

	We're going mushroom hunting

Red spots showed up on Lisa's little legs in the evening. Sid, being paranoid, claimed it to be chicken pox, I kept waving her medical record in front of his face insisting that an inoculated child cannot get chicken pox. In the morning it became clear that it was not chicken pox, yet it still was something strange. Lizzy looked like a Chinese baby crossed with a panda -- her eyes were hidden behind huge red swollen spectacles. Our usual Saturday program ensued -- a trip to the doctor's.

Lisa made a huge scene at the clinic -- and at that the doctor actually had not done anything drastic -- just looked at her disappearing swellings, checked her throat, ears, belly -- and that was all. Diagnose? Hives. Allegedly a reaction to some food item. In that moment, a memory flashed through my mind, of Jana sharing here peanut butter sandwiches with us on the picnic. Catastrophic scenarios followed this idea -- allergies to peanuts usually show in strong reactions and become worse with age.

Right after swimming on Monday, I grabbed Lisa and we went to the lab. I was getting ready for the worst -- if Lisa squeals like a stabbed piglet every time the doctor would look at her, what would she do during a blood collection? Lizzy was in a good mood and entertained other people in the waiting room by crawling under a row of seats and playing peek-a-boo. When it was our turn, the lab technician became uneasy and said we were to wait for reinforcements. Eventually I held Lisa in my arms, one technician held her little arm, while another was to operate the needles and syringes. Lisa drooled horribly and I kept on waiting for the moment of furious jerking and insane screaming. When I began to ask myself, why would they drag out the preparations so long, the technician suddenly said we were done and that we could leave. He was visibly shocked by Lizzy's composure; and so was I. Lizzy had waved a merry bye-bye and we were on our way.

On the following weekend we had reserved a hotel room on the coast of northern California. Jana had lured us out, for she and her Polish husband allegedly keep bringing back from the woods there basketfuls of mushrooms. They, having no children, do it in a one-day trip; we have critically considered our capabilities, and those of our kids, and concluded that a whole-weekend trip would make more sense. Naturally, Tom started a nasty cough on Wednesday. On Saturday morning, when we were supposed to leave, he even had elevated temperature. This had not impacted him in his usual running, playing with and teasing Lisa, and we had decided to be tough parents and drive out anyway. Our reasoning was simple -- staying home we would try to keep Tom quiet by playing DVDs. We were able to provide him with same on our journey north. There was a hotel room, awaiting us at the end of our road (i.e. a civilized base), where we could again try to keep Tom inactive with books and videos.

	Salt Point Cove Before we had managed to get on the beach, dusk had arrived.

	Fort Ross from a mushroom-hunting perspective.

Driving there took a greater part of the day. We stopped for lunch in a Thai restaurant in Petaluma. Tom took to admiring storm drain on the pedestrian zone there and overall acted normally. By three o'clock we settled in our hotel room and made our first raid into the woods. Tommy would soon want to be carried, which we had granted him -- now that he was ill. I carried Lisa, Sid huffed with Tom -- and grumbled. We spotted some pointy mushrooms, but nothing we prized enough to collect -- only cut ends. Apparently the mushrooms had grown there -- and obviously someone had found them before us.

Tom whined that he wanted to the ocean. It's interesting how surroundings form a personality. For me, a land-locked Central European, the ocean remains something mysterious and mildly spooky; Tom, being a Californian, considers the Pacific Ocean his natural backdrop. Our child builds lighthouses from blocks, not towers or smokestacks. The first animal into which Tom had "metamorphosed" himself, was no dog, but a shark. I'm not sure whether he completely comprehends the difference between a goat and a sheep, yet he distinguishes ocean creatures with natural ease. When we plan for a trip, he immediately demands to go to the ocean. Thus while we were looking for mushrooms, Tom had heard some sea-lion bark in the distance and asked right away to go look at them.

Eventually the forest turned so dark that Sid permitted us to return. We quickly ran down to the sea to satisfy Tom. It was rapidly getting dark and cold, too. Soon we were forced to retreat and look for a place to have dinner. Back at the hotel we ran the movie Cars, but only adults finished watching it -- both children zonked out nicely. We had brought Lisa's collapsible bed, while Tom became a test subject -- he got a traveling bed for kids. In principle it is an air mattress integrated with a sleeping bag. This system has proven itself well -- Tom could not fall out of the mattress or travel anywhere, and he did not even crawl much out of the bag. Furthermore, it can be all packed into a very small pouch. It seems that we thus have solved the problem of children's travel bedding (Lisa is going to get this bed at the nearest good opportunity). It's been practically impossible to find a hotel room with four beds; it's unbearable to finance two rooms (and bothersome, too -- should we sleep each adult with one child, or demand connected rooms and leave one to the kids?). Inflatable beds will find their use in the tent as well, anyway.

	Fort Ross Typical for its epoch - a church and a cannon.

	A Russian bell in a Russian fortress -- it surprised us how mighty voice it has.

I guess I should mention our hotel - Fort Ross Lodge has been likely the most pleasant accommodation we had ever stayed in. Semi-detached buildings ensure quiet and privacy. Skylights turn a tiny hotel room into an airy loft, one so much remote from claustrophobic hotel pigeon-holes. The room is adjoined by a small patio with an actual ocean view. We had not only a fridge and a microwave at our disposal, but also a small sink (no washing milk bottles in the bathroom) -- and besides the usual TV set there was a satellite receiver and a DVD player, which is much more comfortable than watching a fairy tale on our notebook computer. Naturally, this is one of the more expensive hotels -- well at least for his money, one gets some service here.

In the morning it was unmistakably clear that Tom's health had returned, while his poor parents were felled by the same virus. This, of course, did not prevent us from another mushroom-hunting foray. This time we had encountered button mushrooms and subsequently slippery jacks. Nevertheless our kids limit our range considerably, yet even so we were successful. I don't much remember times when I could afford picking only medium-sized mushrooms and leave too small or too old ones behind. In the end we found ourselves cowardly retreating back to the road, stepping over last nests of mushrooms. Slippery jacks cannot be stored for long, and so we took only what we could immediately consume.

One cultural highpoint of our trip remained - the visit to Fort Ross. One theory says that Ross is a short form of Rossiya -- Russia. This sounds rather probable, as Fort Ross had really been a Russian fortress. It was founded in the year 1812 by Ivan Kuskov, an employee of Russan-American Company, which controlled fur trade in Alaska. California of this era presented a great attraction -- as a food source, but mostly as a base for sea otter fur hunt, whose product was very valued in China. Kuskov must have been aware that he was operating on an uncertain ground. Theoretically California belonged to Spain, but Spanish influence then ended at the level of San Francisco. Fort Ross was founded in the time when Europe was experiencing Napoleonic wars, USA was in war with England, and so building a Russian fortress in the vast wilderness of northern California remained unnoticed for a long time. The Russians did not leave anything to chance -- the fortress was quite well armed and equipped with a well on its grounds, ready for drawn-out siege. Fort Ross was very self-sufficient -- among those living here were smiths, carpenters, masons -- and naturally peasants and hunters. Most employees of the Company had been Alaskan natives -- the most famous ones were Eskimos of the Alutiiq tribe from the Kodiak Island. As little actual Russians lived in Fort Ross, the fewer were Russian women -- and so its inhabitants began to mix with local Indian tribes Miwok and Kashaya.

	It would seem that our kids settled quickly at our hotel room - as long as they can watch their fairy tale from their bed

	We found mushrooms!

In 1839 representatives of the Russian-American Company signed a contract with Hudson Bay Company to supply Alaskan Sitka -- which made Fort Ross unneeded. The Russians tried to sell it first to the Hudson Bay Company, then to various California settlers, and finally sold it to John Sutter in 1841. He never bothered to visit Fort Ross personally, just had all material moved to Sutter's Fort in Sacramento Valley. The land of Fort Ross went through hands of several proprietors, until it was bought by George W. Call in 1873. Call Ranch existed until 1973, but already in 1906 the State of California purchased the area of the original fortress. Then, the only remaining artifacts were the church and Alexander Rochev's house; other buildings were re-constructed later.

Fort Ross is an extraordinary place. Typically Russian wooden buildings look very much out of place on the Pacific coast. I have been used to Spanish missions and American ranches, and I felt quite peculiar here. The odd atmosphere was being emphasized by Russian-speaking tourists -- suddenly one would hesitate, where on Earth were we, actually? Another surprise was how massively were the buildings constructed -- so clearly ready to stand in a fight. Heavy trap door protecting a staircase to the first floor in the living quarters, massive shutters -- and after all ubiquitous cannons.

Kids had obviously liked Fort Ross - they ran through the houses, Tom (very loudly) rang the historic bell -- simply we had finally taken them back to civilization. Eventually they grew tired, and Sid had to carry Tom back to the car, just as I had Lisa. I thought I would not make it back -- Tom's virus had attacked me with all of its might, my knees were trembling just under my own weight, not to speak with Lisa in my arms. We had managed somehow, and only had a long way to go home. Only one spot was worth mentioning -- River's End restaurant in Jenner. While being ushered to our table, Tom had made a scene that he had wanted one with a view of the ocean. A typical Californian.

My subsequent week remains in a haze -- viruses from pre-school are very durable and apparently decimate adults much better than children. Important result had arrived of Lisa's lab tests. The good news: Lizzy IS NOT allergic to peanuts. This means that we don't know what made her become spotted and swollen. We can only hope that she simply belongs to the vast array of children who experience something like this -- and for whom the cause is never discovered.

Copyright © 2006-2007 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.