Arizona 2012: A quick trip to Greece?

At first glance the blue and white chapel on the hill could easily be one found in sunny Greece - it is the saguaro and cholla that make it look conspicuously out of place. Just off Highway 79 on the way to Tucson is an unexpected oasis in the desert. Fields of cholla guard the entrance to St. Anthony's Monastery. Established in 1995, the monastery is run by an order of Greek Orthodox monks carrying on the tradition of the Holy Mountain, Athos monasteries of Greece.

Long skirts, long sleeves and head scarves are required for the women, so mom and I donned our finest for the afternoon. As soon as we passed through the main gate we were transported back in time and into a place of contemplation and beauty. The monks, all long bearded and thickly accented, went about their daily tasks, unaffected by the visitors wandering around the gardens. There are even dormitories for pilgrims wishing to stay overnight on the monastery grounds. The predominant language echoing through the gardens and inside the chapels was Greek with the occasional Russian and English.



St. George's Chapel - architecture typical of Romania



St. George slaying the Dragon

Chandelier inside St. George's Chapel


I have visited an orthodox monastery and churches while in Russia and even one in Greece, so as soon as I stepped through the heavy wooden doors of the first chapel, I was transported back to a familiar place. Granted, the ones I visited were much older, much darker and much more somber. These were bright, shiny and the icons were free of candle smoke and the ravages of time.

St. Seraphim's Chapel is dedicated to the most revered Russian saint - interesting contrast between the Orthodox icons and the woven Indian rug in this open air chapel

St. Elijah's Chapel is located on a hill just outside the main monastery grounds. A short walk up a stony path leads to the blue domed chapel and belfry. It offered amazing 360 degree views of the surrounding desert and a feeling of being removed from the bustle of the everyday.

Cupola - St. Elijah's Chapel

Icons and prayer chairs

Once I made it to the top of the hill I could see the fast approaching clouds of a winter storm. Oddly enough, once we were back on the road towards Florence we passed through the entire rain storm in about the space of a mile. The rain on the ground was already drying up as soon as the clouds passed. Only in Arizona!



Panoramic view of St. Anthony's Monastery as the winter rain sweeps across the desert

Having thoroughly explored Greece, we headed to Queen Creek Olive Mill for lunch at del Piero - a Mediterranean trattoria. Extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, gelato, tapenades - I was in an Italian heaven! It was a great way to wind down our Mediterranean excursion through the Arizonian desert.

Arizona 2012: Navajo Tacos at the Heard Museum

It has probably been 20 years since I went to downtown Phoenix. I always thought it to be dirty, unsafe and unappealing. Today, however, I was pleasantly surprised to find it full of renovated nostalgic buildings and modern light rail. The Heard Museum was only a few minutes drive from my sister's place and so we decided to take in the Native American exhibits.

As part of their Heard for the Holidays series, they had performers in full regalia performing native dances - including the hoop dance.

As anyone growing up in Arizona would know, a Navajo taco isn't necessarily made by Navajo Indians nor is it really actually a taco. It is rather deep fried dough smothered with lettuce, cheese, beans and sometimes beef on top. The sweet version of powdered sugar is also a must. The best way to eat them is to rip off a piece and pay not mind to the bits that will most assuredly drip down the front of you shirt. Lucky for us, they were being sold outside the museum today. 

The museum's collection of everything Native American was quite impressive. Katcina dolls, woven rugs, silver and turquoise jewelry and painted pottery filled the halls. One of the most interesting exhibits was the one honoring the WWII Code Talkers. I didn't realize the first ones were from the Choctaw tribe (my dad is 1/64th Choctaw and VERY proud of that fact.) There were several rooms with interactive exhibits that would be great for kids. A great afternoon in a serene oasis in the middle of the desert.

Arizona 2012: Chili Pepper Lights

As my mom and I drove up to Phoenix today for some last minute shopping with my sister, I found myself singing along to all the Christmas songs on the radio - some silly, some nostalgic, most obnoxiously familiar. As I did, I realized very few of them described the Christmas I knew as a child growing up in Coolidge, a medium-to-small sized town in the middle of the Arizona desert.






The closest thing we had to snow was the fluffy white cotton bits that get scattered along the side of the road after the final harvest. Often times it was cactus and palm trees wrapped with bright lights instead of bare trees and evergreens. Bundling up meant a jacket in the morning that could be easily discarded in the 65 degree sunny afternoons. Tamales, not turkey, was the more common Christmas dinner.

Yesterday evening, as the sun began to set, I drove around town past the water tower (most likely the tallest thing for miles) and up to the fence of our "claim to fame" - the 500 year old Native American dwelling, Casa Grande Ruins (probably the second tallest thing.) I was looking for Christmas lights, but didn't find much. When I got back home, my parent's tenants had turned on their mix 'n match light display and I was grateful for the festive attempt.

When my parents downsized and moved into one of their rental properties, one of the things that got lost in the move was the box with the Christmas lights, all except for the chili pepper lights, that is. Where would we be without chili pepper lights! My brother sent my parents a mini pine tree this year. Not being big on decorating (that was always my thing) they decided to fore go a large tree and just used the small one. It works for them.

Tomorrow is Christmas. The presents are wrapped and the stockings are hung - well at least, draped over the cedar chest. I have been Santa's "helper" for as long as I can remember and since my parents have both already gone to bed, I can finish stuffing the stockings with a couple of dollar store finds, nuts, a few chocolates and a mandarin orange in the toe.  A movie on Christmas Day has been a Barnett tradition for years (see previous post regarding my Dad's movie addiction...)We are heading out in the morning to catch a matinee - Les Miserables. Nothing like a bit of musical misery to make one grateful.

Merry Christmas!