Two weeks later...

We arrived home last night after two weeks on the road. Oddly, the weather in Tuscon was chilly and rainy! Did we bring it with us, I wondered? My back needs to be adjusted after so many hours in the car.

Now, on to book news--I just published the Kindle version and the 'look inside' feature is now available as well. A few people have bought the book--friends and family--but I didn't expect it to disappear off the virtual shelves, at least not for a while. I have several copies here that I plan to take around to bookstores and use for give-aways on this blog. Hopefully I can get some readers and reviews going! 

So if you are interested in having a copy let me know by responding to this blog--the first five people who ask will receive beautiful signed copies in the mail! However, as with all things free, there is a catch--I would greatly appreciate a review on Amazon and, if you like the book, a recommendation to your friends...Kindle version is only $2.99 so please encourage them to buy rather than passing the book around. Also if anyone understands the tagging thing, please let me know! (it seems to be important)

On another topic, we may be moving to Tuscon. We went there with the idea of looking around but did not expect to find a house. It sits on a knoll backed by state park and the Catalina mountains. And the prices there are unbelievably low! We've been at sixes and sevens (where did that saying come from?) since we sold our home last year and have spent months looking around for a place that felt right. Since I've always loved the rain and the big trees I was surprised by how much the desert appealed!  My husband and I are both very excited about exploring a new landscape full of alien flora and fauna as well as the Native American and Hispanic cultures that thrive there. And being a college town, Tuscon is a progressive place despite Arizona politics--With a 60% Hispanic population there's a push-back against the extreme policies of Phoenix. 

Can we move primarily because of a house, I ask myself...we know no one there although we have friends in Silver City, three hours away. Why didn't we look there, you ask? Because it's 6000 feet and cold! In any case my answer is yes, you can move because of a house, especially one that sits at the base of the Catalina mountains and called to us eerily out of the ether--we were drawn to that house. 

Manila, 1939

To give some background to those who just tuned in, I am traveling across the U.S. with my husband and our standard poodle, Buddha. At first I tried to connect my posts with our travels but now I am merely posting excerpts from a work in progress that has to do with my parent's relationship and the effect of my father's over three and a half years in prison camp during WW2. It is a work of fiction with the exception of the inclusion of my father's journal entries kept while he was a POW. It is 1939 and our characters have just arrived in Manila, still with the hope that war with Japan can be avoided.

The ocean liner from San Francisco docked in Manila harbor just before sunset on August 27^th, 1939. The view from the boat revealed a tropical paradise; a forest of coconut palms filled in the landscape behind long empty beaches and in the distance, cloud shadows moved across blue mountains. The tang of sea air coupled with the sweet perfume of flowers wafted by on the warm breeze.  Ramsey and I stood on deck until only a faint line of orange remained on the horizon. Here so close to the equator night fell suddenly, like a black velvet curtain.

That night we spent packing and it wasn’t until the next morning that I noticed the ominous array of naval ships in the harbor. Sunlight glinted off their otherwise dull metallic surfaces where sailors were busy on the decks. Ten thousand U.S. troops and twenty thousand Philippine Army soldiers inhabited this island. Despite the warm sun I shivered, realizing how far from home we were and what the future might bring.  

I watched wooden carts pulled by water buffalo and donkeys as we walked down the gangplank, the harbor bustling with commerce. The Spanish city of Intramuros was not far and as we left the ship the walls and turrets surrounding the original city came into view. Above the walls Cathedral domes stood out amid other medieval sandy brick buildings covered with bright bougainvillea and surrounded with mimosa trees in full flower.  The Philippines had been in the hands of the Spanish from the 1500’s until the late 1800’s when it was fought over in the Spanish-American war. Intramuros had originally been designed to segregate the ruling Spanish elite from the Filipinos and other ethnic minorities such as the Chinese, Japanese and Indians. The walled city now had the look of an aging film star, all shadow and light and crumbling brick and stone taken over by flowers and vines.  In the far distance to the south, clouds were building above emerald rice paddies that criss-crossed the lower slopes of Mt. Mayon, a still active volcano.

 A small honor guard with the Philippine Department band met us on the dock and Ramsey left me with the other wives, joining General Wainwright and the other officers. General MacArthur was not in attendance but there was to be a meeting held at his penthouse later in the day. This island had been his home for many years. As we left the dock I lost myself for a moment watching the dark-skinned faces of the people walking by. Some Filipino women wore bright dresses with sleeves peaked at the shoulders others, blouses of lace and wrap-around skirts, both reflecting the influence of the left over Hispanic culture. The men looked more Americanized with trousers and shirts but some wore the more traditional see-through white shirts called the barong tagalog. The women wore their hair long and elaborately twisted into neat chignons.  My outfit of sunny linen, straw hat and matching bag and white gloves seemed out of place among these beautifully dressed natives.

 When the ceremony was over Ramsey collected me and we climbed into the back of a jeep driven by a Filipino soldier who would take us to our temporary quarters close to Ft. Mckinley, seven miles south of Manila.  We bumped in and out of ruts on the dirt road, swerving around water buffalo, children on bicycles, chickens, donkeys, and dogs, sometimes narrowly missing them.  I held onto my hat, my heart racing. 

I welcome any and all comments. I am revising as I go and would love to know if this is of interest to you. Thank you to all readers.