Galapagos Survivor

     If you put going to the Galapagos Islands on your bucket list, go when you are younger. Still, I signed up for this trip when a opportunity came along, and nope, my steadily dwindling royalties did not pay for it. Not that I wasn't warned by the repeated question, "Can you get on and off a boat?" Sure, I can. I was not deterred even by pictures of Zodiacs washing up on beaches and rocky shores. And so we embarked, landing first in the good-sized city of Guayaquil, Ecuador, a city with many parks and enlivened by its painted buildings, which I never knew existed. After a city tour, a visit to a cocoa plantation (very interesting), and buying some of their famous chocolate, we flew away to Baltra Island where the wind was so strong, it nearly blew me off my feet walking from the plane to the terminal, quite a trek. I should have known then this trip would be rugged. 
     A bus took us to our first experience with a panga, an inflatable boat like a Zodiac.  We received instructions on how to board,and I might add, the wind was still wild, which took us to our small but nice ship, our home for the next week. I managed the first boarding okay--step on the canvas side of the boat, step down one step, step down one immense step, and take a seat on the edge of the panga, which if you are lucky will have a handhold to grip for dear life. After a fairly long panga ride, or maybe it just seemed that way, we schooched down to the steps again, balanced on the rim, and were pulled aboard the water-washed steps into the ship by stalwart, muscular sailors. This routine would become common in days to come as it was the only way to get the various islands. There are no nice docks. A dry landing meant clambering over a pile of lava rocks while the guides held the panga more or less steady.  A wet landing consisted of sliding off the side of the boat like ill-trained Navy Seals into a foot of cold, moving water and squelching ashore in water shoes while carrying dry footwear. Actually, it was the easier of the two and I did several of these, but bowed out of the dry landings as I couldn't do the lava rock hikes anyhow.
     I won't go into all the wildlife we saw: dozens of unique birds in the process of nesting during the dry season, lots of sea life from sea lions to iguanas to turtles. I will only add one caveat: watch your step, lots of guano, and a fair amount of stink on some of those beaches. More often I chose the glass-bottomed boat experience despite having to roll from the panga onto the second small boat and then back again. I only fell once when I slid all the way down the side of the panga, but I couldn't get up--rescued again by our handsome, Hispanic guides, so there was some benefit. We observed rays, sea turtles, fish, but failed to find swimming iguanas. This was the dry season of winter. On land, the lizards just lay there in piles trying to stay warm. The sea lions liked to escort us. And we did see the little penguins and flightless cormorants on the rocky shore.
     As usual when I revealed I was a writer of romance, I took the common ribbing and answered a lot of questions. One of which I am always asked: Would they show up in my next book? Well, no. First, my current WIP uses what I learned in Australia. The Aussie Sinner should come out late next year.
Second, most of my characters are composites of many people, a trait here, a special smile there. So, they ask, how about a mystery based on our Galapagos trip where someone is killed by the fruit of the poison apple tree, about the only green bush on the islands this time of year. Most of the foliage looks dead or is cactus. My mind began working and came up with a title, Eden and the Poison Apple Tree, with an amateur sleuth named Eden. They deemed that too cheesy. Then, I thought, what are the exact symptoms of the poison apples? What is the motive to kill in such an isolated place? Not to mention that I'd need to do way more research on cruise ships. And this is why I don't write mysteries anymore. (See Mardi Gras Madness and Courir de Mardi Gras if you want to read my attempts.) So, I challenged them to write a first chapter which I would critique and not steal. Thus far, no takers.
      As the trip came to its end, I fell off lava rocks trying to put my shoes on, nearly wiped out my colleagues when the panga driver decided to pursue a whale, which we never saw, and I lost my grip and careened into the others, nearly pushing one into the sea. Pedro put his arm around me to hold me in place on the wild ride so the embarrassment might have been worth it. The sea was choppy, and I made my last and major fail trying to get back on the ship as both ship and panga bobbed wildly. I missed step number one, had to be hauled to number two where I fell again, and then was urged to make the leap to the ship's stairs as I froze trying to match both boats. I think I finally got aboard being pushed from behind and pulled from above when I finally got my feet to move. The ship's young, female doctor checked me out--bruised but not battered. Some said I was brave to go on this trip. I'd say fool hardy. Now I can imagine why someone might kill a person with poison apples--guides sick of hauling old ladies around in pangas. Heck, she was ancient anyhow. No great loss.
   

Back from Down Under

     I left for my bucket list trip to Australia at the end of November without giving this blog a thought, but the journey did give me something to talk about other than writing. If you want a day to day account, friend me on Facebook. My husband took lots of great pictures, too. I'm not even going to pretend that my royalties paid for this trip. The cost was paid off monthly since last year and worth every penny from Enhanced Tourist Class on the plane which gave me extra leg room and great snacks plus a glass of sparkling wine to start the journey to watching the penguin parade and hand-feeding kangaroos.
     I was able to establish the Aussie character when a big six-footer reclined his seat into my lap for the eighteen-hour flight. Around two a.m., I desperately needed the restroom and found I was trapped. Afraid I would wet myself, I began shouting, "I can't get out!" and probably woke up half the plane including the guy in front of me who finally put up his seat, let me go, waited until I got back, and fully reclined again. Little did he know women my age need the bathroom every two hours. Each time I tapped him, he good-naturedly let me out again, then resumed his position. When I needed some food around six a.m. to take some meds, the staff provided me with a ham and cheese empanada. He put up his chair so I could get my tray out--and asked for the same. Honestly, very nice but not overly sensitive people. I have to say always willing to help and give directions as we found throughout our trip. Give up a seat on a crowded tram, nope, but share a table with you in a crowded restaurant--no worries. Sit yourself down.
     I did gather information for a Sinners book I plan to call The Aussie Sinner. Yes, there are Australian Rules Football players in the NFL, mostly kickers, but I want mine to play a different position if I can ever figure out what that is. Must get a copy of Aussie Football for Dummies soon, though I viewed several Footy games on the Footy Channel while recuperating from the day's activities. Only thing the games seem to have in common is having a ball of the same shape. Fun to watch as these very fit young men play in shorts with no padding flat out for their quarters, throwing themselves into piles to rip out the ball and sending it flying with a kick to the other end of the field. Our Melbourne guide, Peter, gave me lots of details on the sport as the game originated in that city which has nine teams of its own. I do need to give him a credit when the story comes out, probably in late 2020 so don't hold your breath.
     Meanwhile, The Heart of a Sinner is now up for pre-sale on Amazon and will be released on January ninth. This came as complete surprise to me as it hadn't been given a release date before I took off for the Land of Oz. That should tide you over along with Dream for a Sinner which I left nearly finished in order to take my trip. I do love to write, but traveling is even better. Here's a cover for you. Now I have to get back to cookie baking and present wrapping, both, like Dream, sorely neglected while I dined on kangaroo and flirted with platypuses. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to one and all!

Home Again,Always Inspired

     In Iceland, our guide told us the word in their language for a dull and stupid person was one that never left home. They do have a strong Viking heritage there to go wandering and encourage their children to see other countries. Travel truly does open our eyes to the rest of the world which has much to offer. If, however, you cannot afford to take trips but are a reader, you can wander through books and learn much, even from fiction. Want to visit Cajun Country vicariously? Read nearly any of the my books, and you will experience the culture and almost taste the cooking.
     What did I learn in Iceland? Much. It is almost impossible to experience a dip in the Blue Lagoon without adjusting to full frontal nudity in the locker room as there are no changing stalls and one must shower in the buff before entering the large, warm pool, nice even on a rainy day. Just try getting a bathing suit on or out of one when wet! Well, the Japanese family I changed with didn't care, so neither did I. Other trivia: chocolate-covered licorice is great, their utility bills are only $50 a month for everything as it is all provided from geothermal power plants, though the water smells vaguely of sulfur, and hamburgers cost $24, but lamb and fish are wonderful, abundant, and cheaper. I missed out on trying puffin, but learned that marinated shark and dried whale are truly awful. Also, all the puffins leave on August 19th to spend the winter at sea, so we didn't see a one of them. Icelandic horses (never called ponies), cows,and sheep, came over with the Viking settlers and are the only breeds allowed as they are adapted to the climate and very hardy. Those Vikings also "stopped off" in Northern Scotland and Ireland to pick up some women for the colony, whether by force or purchase was not made clear, but genetically, the modern men test as 60% Scandinavian and the women as 50% Celtic. Now that might be inspiration for a romance novel.
      As usual, I met interesting people, our great guide Harpa who is also an artist, our bus  driver, Stenin, a vigorous woman who liked four pats of butter for breakfast because it is good for you along with skyr (like Greek yogurt) with cream and sugar on top. My fellow travelers included an eighty-two year-old woman who had been a child advocate most of her life, the delightful David taking a break from caring for his husband who suffers from Alzheimer's, the professor who pretended to be a vegetarian because she hates fish of which we had a lot, but then missed out on the delicious lamb and dairy desserts because they assumed vegan. She always ended up with fruit, but I did share my brownie with her one evening when she fessed up. Not so pleasant or so much fun, a hypochondriac woman who told my daughter and me to isolate ourselves at the end of the table because my kid had bronchitis and coughed a lot--even though she'd been told it wasn't contagious. Everyone asked if they'd end up in one of my books--maybe their characteristics will, but probably not on a trip to Iceland.
     Came home and left a week later for St. Louis where I caught a virus that did not allow me to enjoy the barbecue I so looked forward to. In fact, I ended up getting an IV for dehydration at an Urgent Care and living on soup for most of that short trip with my husband. However, I did get to see my two main wishes--the King Tut Exhibit at their Science Museum and the ancient Indian site of Cahokia. On my birthday I stood at the foot of the enormous Monk's Mound a little too weak to climb it, but I did enjoy the very nice museum on the site. They downplayed the human sacrifice elements of that ancient culture which always fascinates me (very large scale there), but I appreciated the many recreations of day to day life. Never know when you can use that in a book. As a consolation for not being able to eat cake, my husband did buy me a lovely pendant containing fossils and crafted by a Native American. I bought some whimsical clay wood ducks based on figures found in the area,too. I love the get my souvenirs in museum shops because it helps the site and the artists.
      Hope this hasn't bored you like the neighbors' slide show of their vacation (which I incidentally always loved as a kid). Next year--Australia!

On the Road Again!

     After a long, hot, slow summer, Never a Sinner came out to good reviews, and all the work is done for A Place Apart for its November first release.  Great covers on both books which capture Teddy Billodeaux's joy of life, and the isolation of Jacob Day, a damaged veteran to wants nothing more than to be left alone on his deserted island which is suddenly claimed by a socialite also seeking solitude.  Sparks fly!  I've also made a start on The Heart of a Sinner, Annie Billodeaux's story, but must put it aside to satisfy my wanderlust again.
     I am off to Iceland shortly to tour the island and bathe in the Blue Lagoon and other hot springs. When I return home, I have a week's break before going to St. Louis to see the ancient mounds of Cahokia and eat good barbecue. The question recently came up as to whether I plan to site a book in Iceland.  Probably not, but I never know.  When I started writing Sister of a Sinner last year, I had no idea that my brief cruise to Cozumel and my tour of the ruins there would come to play a part in Xochi Billodeaux's story, but that is where her kidnappers take her.  Sister only came out this spring, again to good reviews, but I don't want to spoil the story for you, so no more on that. A trip to Wisconsin provided Alix Lindstrom with a home state, though it doesn't figure heavily in the story. A spring visit to Minneapolis might give me another. It is quite a vibrant, multi-ethnic city, not bland and white at all.
      I finally got the courage to write A Place Apart several years after a visit to Maine.  When out of my comfort zone of south Louisiana, I always fear getting the details wrong, but favor Road Scholar for my tours. They are dubbed Learning Adventures, and you do learn! I save reams of information they give me for future use. In Place Apart, I recreate a sloop ride on Penobscot Bay early in the book and spin off on a legend I heard there--besides eating lots of lobster, one of my favorite foods. Although a man of education and many talents, Jacob Day chooses the hard life of a lobster fisherman to avoid others. The title came from a quote I heard at the Island Institute, founded to preserve the way of life on the many coastal islands, places apart indeed. It is my first book based entirely on one of my trips. I yearn to write one about western Ireland where I went a couple of years ago, but again, the devil is in the details.
      On my Road Scholar tours, I also meet so many interesting people like a Navajo code talker, sadly now deceased, the first woman to run the Iditarod in Alaska (she lost badly but did finish the grueling race), a shaman with a sense of humor, and many glib-tongued Irish men.  My traveling companions are equally interesting, folks who have worked with NASA, a nurse who who served in World War II, people who are so talented they can learn to play a penny whistle overnight or write an limerick in minutes to amuse the group. Any of these are worthy of a book of their own.
     So, off I go again.  Undoubtedly, I will fill my Facebook page with tales of Iceland in the next month. I'm counting on my daughter, an excellent photographer, to supply the pictures. See you later!
     

Travels

     I've said before that I write to travel.  Every penny I earn from royalties or selling at events goes into a fund for my next adventure.  If I have a good year, I go farther. If not, I stay close to home. I'm sure not getting rich as a writer, but I am feeding my soul.  I accumulated enough funds for a week long trip to Spain, reported I fear, ad nauseam, on Facebook. Although I went on and on about octopus tapas, great museums, gypsy beggars, and pickpockets, I didn't deal with what travel means to a writer--inspiration of course.
     This doesn't mean my next book will take place in Spain. Who knows? That gypsy beggar who hounded me for a block as she moaned about her children starving and needing milk might appear in another book in a totally different role. Understanding just enough Spanish to get what she said and not believing a word of it, I finally gave her a euro from my little coin purse to be rid of her. I did not flaunt my cash or its location for the very skillful pickpockets of Barcelona for whom she might have been shilling. Yes, one of our company was robbed and never felt a thing, not a single bump, another incident that could be used in any big city. That said, Barcelona is a city of great beauty, a worthy setting for any romance, from its lovely street tiles and lampposts along the Diagonal to the crooked, skinny lanes in the Old City that take one back to Medieval times, minus the stench and far worse beggars than that gypsy woman.
     Madrid was not so beautiful, another big, noisy city that doesn't shut down until three a.m. though they have preserved their neoclassical buildings along the Gran Via and have many nice squares full of, I swear, the same gypsy women beggars. It also has an extensive Old City where we ventured for a lecture on Flamenco at a club dedicated to that dance, had tapas and red wine, then a performance by three female and one male dancer (muy macho). I liked that one of the women was older and still had lots of fire. The dance is never the same twice as the dancer interprets a story being sung and accompanied by guitar. The rest of the company supplies a rhythmic clapping, the men a steady beat, the women faster and more complicated. The fellow sitting next to me whispered that a novel about a flamenco troupe would make a great book.  It would!  But, I'd have to be a lot more knowledgeable before I took that on.
      More likely, people I meet will show up in a book like the ninety-two year old WWII nurse who kept up with us just fine or the plumber who for some reason never got the meal he ordered.  They can be inserted anywhere, in any story.  I collect characters like I do plots I gather from overhearing conversations.  Yes, the threat that you might show up in one of my novels is real, but you probably won't recognize your fictionalized self.  At least, I hope not! Anyhow, I always announce at the introductions that I write romance novels, so they have been warned.
     Just a caution--you cannot write off your travels as research trips on your taxes unless you are a real travel writer who is not being reimbursed. Wouldn't it be divine if you could? On my list--Australia and Italy, Scotland and Iceland. I'd better get busy writing and rebuilding my modest travel fund. Too bad Ashy Affair got off to such a bad start with the defective e-books. I hoped it would be a nice moneymaker like its companion, Trashy Affair, which got me to Alaska. Actually, a trip to Spain costs less than Alaska as did my stay in Costa Rica. This coming year, I might have to drive somewhere.