Independence Day celebrations.

Rodeo.

Returning from a vacation is always hard on me. My mind is objecting and would rather be somewhere else. This time, at least the kids were not facing immediate going back to school, and I did not have to get back to work (though Hippo did), and I was truly looking forward to my own bed and kitchen and quiet, but I was at the same time incredibly unnerved by the local traffic density and overcrowding in general. Gone was the ease of the open country, where everybody has enough time to chat with you and direct you to their favorite places.

Perhaps because my mind still somehow lingered in Montana, where people talk, I gathered courage to ask one cashier in a grocery store, where do I know him from. The chap had seemed familiar for a long time, but I kept telling myself that it may be so because I go there and see him frequently. Well, he answered that of course we know each other — from the climbing gym. I felt better, having found that I was not a COMPLETE idiot, but apparently my memory isn't all that good after all — when I see a man outside of his typical context, I'm still lost.

A log is trapped in a pool on San Lorenzo river, and the kids can play with it for hours and hours.

A route with a stalagtite looks rather impressive.

We had about a week to get a rest from our vacation — that is, Hippo went to work, while I was liquidating our trip's consequences, such as heaps of laundry, an tried to figure out, who of the kids' school mates remained in the vicinity and free to play. After a week of that, we packed — and got out during an extended Independence Day weekend. It's interesting how one's perspective changes — all of a sudden we felt that such a trip was rather a piece of cake, not having to pack and resolve much at all, going only a small distance and a short while.

Alas, this year we failed to convince anyone to join us. Are we too weird, or what? In the end it perhaps was better that way — we were awfully lazy and tired, at least us adults. We only built our tent on Friday, unleased the kids into the woods and to the creek, and sat down to read. Later we sat down some more and had a dinner at Jeff's, finally sitting around the whole evening, watching fireworks in Bridgeport. There seemed to be some problem this year — the show started relatively late, and about half way into it, bushes and grass on the edge of the airport caught on fire, thus the finale was also illuminated by high flames from the ground.

Point Lobos.

A spotted youngling.

We had planned to see rodeo on Saturday. According to info pages of the city of Bridgeport, it was supposed to start by two in the afternoon, and we planned to first have a brunch at Hays Street Cafe, then perhaps check out the local hot springs or some lakes, finally arriving at the show. To our surprise, by eleven a.m. the arena was full of people — so we reserved a table at Hays and went to ask at the rodeo about their program. We just caught the opening ceremony — and a surprised geezer at the register said that the rodeo was on from eleven to about two, as they had published on their own leaflets. Well, it seems that it wasn't just the fireworks that got out of control this year.

This, however, meant that we spent the hottest part of the day watching the show, and I must say it was rather crazy. From time to time we went to wet our heads under a faucet, and eventually ended up crowding a friendly old man under a gazebo; one could not sit in the open sun without streams of sweat pouring from calves into one's boots. Still we did not want to leave: ranch rodeo, where individual real-life farms compete amongst each other, is rather fascinating — and this country fun somehow well matched our after-vacation mood. We found ourselves away from the metropolis again, without its crowds of manicured, oblivious people.

In spite of it all, we still decided to drive back home on Saturday. Our tiredness lingered — and without a company of friends, even the kids seemed somehow deflated. We were also lured by the idea of avoiding Sunday's return traffic.

On a gallery in a tropical rain forest.

Doris Longwing.

Hippo had to get back to work on Monday and I was picturing to have an easy time with the kids, enjoying friends and interesting things. During summer break, the kids can go bowling for free, which we had used several times. Our neighbor Ina joined us for one visit to kids' movies. We made several trips to San Lorenzo River in Felton, which has still not fallen out of children's favor. Arriving there, I was taken aback when a geezer at the entrance booth to the park declared that they did not accept payment cards, only cash, which I did not bring. This in the midst of civilization, in a state park, seemed strange to me; I had expected that such an institution (the state of California) would have noticed the arrival of the twenty first century. On the other hand — I guess I should be grateful that they don't demand payment for the use of a parking lot in gold dust, thus moving at least to the twentieth century. The situation had a simple solution — I parked for free on the side of the highway, and we walked for twenty minutes from there.

I had also managed to organize one climbing session at Castle Rock. While at the riverside or bowling, I am able and willing to supervise a pack of kids by myself, but when climbing in the mountains, outside the range of a cell signal, I don't dare it without another adult at hand. You see, while I belay one child, I cannot simultaneously oversee what everybody else is doing, and I'm literally tied up on that one spot — I cannot drop the climber and run to save another kid who might have fallen, found a snake, or got in a fight with a friend. Thus climbing had to wait until a constellation of at least on another adult came into position, who would thus accompany us on a weekday. Eventually it all went well, and everybody got to climb. Except for myself, that is, for I had climbed on the same spot on the previous weekend with Pavel — we only chose much harder routes that the stuff I dropped my rope on for the children.

Zebra Longwing.

Camouflaged Blue Morpho.

I must admit, however, that the endless organizing, picking up of friends, and driving up and down with a herd of kids, was not very relaxing for me. I had grown unused to being together with the children for entire days, and I found myself envying their working parents their quiet offices, where nobody screams, and no one must maddeningly forever keep asking whether everybody has all their stuff, jackets and shoes; whether anybody needs to go to the bathroom and drink some water. Well, and besides spending my days in a noisy and dusty environment, another household shift would await me afterwards. Shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry. On most evenings, I was falling on my face and hoped that at least the kids did have fun. And I pondered where and when to slack off, like trying a morning yoga or climbing in the evening, to get myself at least for a while among adult people — moreover, people who mostly keep QUIET and don't demand anything of me.

Eventually I, too, had one vacation attraction of an ADULT kind. The other day I went to Costco and spotted a sofa. Fabric finish, no leather that you can stick to. Detachable, washable pillows. Storage drawer. Option to unfold into a bed for two, for our visitors. An affordable price. So I called Sid to go check it out and consider throwing our old sofa out — it being one that he got twenty years ago, quite used, for free from people who needed to get rid of it after a flood. You can imagine how well such a sofa had weathered several moves, two vomiting babies, and two hamsters. Judging by marks on its sides, there also had also been at least one vicious cat there in its past. On the next day, I went off to yoga, and when I returned, only kids were at home. Sid had gone to work and — the old living room sofa had disappeared.

Finally, a Blue Morpho.

Under water.

The speed of such a deed had almost taken me aback, but the dice were cast. In this moment, Mirek called, having returned from Czech Republic, asking what we'd do on the weekend — and thus was immediately drafted to move the new sofa. Indeed, he probably did not expect such activity, but bore his duty bravely. We finished on Saturday noon, and we took all our helpers out to lunch; Mirek continued with us to Point Lobos.

The following week presented me with another marathon with the children. We went to San Lorenzo River again, and Lisa fell off a rope swing there. Naturally she chose the other bank to do so, but fortunately John, an adult cousin of one of Tom's friends, waded the river, quieted Lisa down, and eventually got convinced (by Lisa) to carry her across to the base camp. There, I could examine the damage and conclude that it did not make me feel well — the rope had dragged Lisa over a rocky beach, and both her knees and insteps were skinned. It was out of question for Lisa to wear shoes, and since the path to our car led over a horse trail full of dust and droppings, I did not want her to walk barefoot — which had earned me a delivery job to the car. For the upcoming several days, Lisa could only walk short distances, wearing flip flops — and only when I taped her wounds up a bit.

Aquarium at the Academy of Science.

A moray and a shrimp.

That's why we were looking for something, on our last vacation weekend in America before our departure to Czech Republic, that even our hobbling Lisa could manage. Sid and I came up with the idea to visit Academy of Science in San Francisco. I had been there with the children in the year 2010, hance they almost did not remember it. And my Hippo had never been. After all, it's rather expensive, and far, and in the City — which means complicated, expensive parking and lots of people. We had actually considered it many times, and dismissed it just on account of the hassle, but now we chose to man up, and, after four years, to survive an urban whirlpool.

I don't think we regretted it in the end — parking was, of course, a hassle, and it cost us money; the museum was expensive, but we managed to see pretty much everything. Because it's no longer a novelty, it was not as crowded as those four years before; there were no brutal lines, and we visited butterflies and parrots, descended to the aquarium, and eventually saw a planetarium show. I had expected a bit more from about half-hour performance than a long-winded statement that scientists don't really understand much of what seems to be going on in our universe, and that their theories don't seem to match observations, but even so, we could check it off our list, and next time, we may skip it. That is, if there is any next time — given our patronage frequency, by the time of our next visit, our children will be almost grown up.

Having concluded this trip, I only spent a couple of nights not sleeping, obsessing, and packing our luggage — Sid took us to the airport on Wednesday: the kids and I departed for almost three weeks in Czech Republic.