Trail Kitsch

Walking in the woods, usually with the dog, I come across some fascinating bits of expression, which I term trail kitsch, though I haven't really found the term on Google, at least not as I mean it.

Trail kitsch is stuff deliberately placed along the trail or natural materials that are altered in their arrangement with some sort of artistic aim, albeit mocking or just nonsensical. Some of it seems to be very short-lived and I'm not sure if some people remove the objects out of distaste or if the "artists" are only loaning their art.

Below are a few examples of trail kitsch I've stumbled upon. All the photos, except the last two of Native American rock art, were taken with my iPhone 4s camera.

The Native American rock art from Arizona isn't kitsch, although I asked a guide about that at one of the sites we visited. He said that given the work ancient people would have had to complete just to get the materials they needed to do this art, it was unlikely it was casual, graffiti-like communications. Rather, it was created to signify something import to the people who did it.

Perhaps placing Gumby and Pokey there with the other toy figures in the rock diorama denotes something important to whoever did it, but it might as well be petroglyphs to me.

Someone is always rearranging this exhibit. It used to be more natural, involving balancing rocks of various sizes and shapes to make tiny formations, but lately it's been invaded by small plastic squatters.

No, not kitsch, but it was a lovely trunk.

Mother Mary (I think) maybe spoke words of wisdom but she didn't last at this broken down gate.

Maya scaring a devil head.

Not exactly kitsch, but couldn't resist. There used to be a building around this commode.

Heart in Sedona.

Rock tree, Sedona, Az.

Native American "kitsch" in Sedona, Az.

More Native American "kitsch" in Petrified Forest National Park

Video Maya

A still-wet Maya after an emergency bath following her discovery of something unidentifiable yet extremely gross to roll in.

I guess normal and not having much to say in this dog blog is a good thing. Maya continues to do very well, running through the woods and generally enjoying life. Her injured leg remains weak, but that doesn't deter her. It may have contributed to her falling into a pond today, but that's a good thing because she'd loped through a muddy patch earlier. By luck I met another dog walker who told me of a pond that I didn't know about. This was on the ridge, an area I don't go to much—mainly because its tick ridden—and so I'd never gone down the trail leading to the pond. Thing is, the other dog dove in to fetch a stick. Maya, I discovered, isn't a swimmer. She likes wading in water—or mud—but prefers to feel something beneath her paws, I think. She's not a retriever, please. She's meant for finding upland game. Still, on a sloping rock she tried testing the water and ended up dunked. I greatly appreciated not having to hose her off or give her a bath after our walk, especially since I had to bathe her twice in three days last week: once just because she was due for a scrubbing and then two days later because of her adventures with some disgusting rot in the forest.

Anyway, best to demonstrate how she's doing. Below are Youtube links to two videos of Maya. The one running in the yard is the more recent, about a month ago, before I finished setting up that plastic fencing as part of putting the lawn into intensive care. The lawn is looking a lot better, though Maya's space to run is greatly reduced for the time being.  The second video is in the woods before the spring burst forth.

Maya runing in backyard

Walking in woods

Slower going

I'm taking it easier on Maya in our walks these days, letting my reading of her set our limit. It has taken me a while to get a sense of her abilities with her repaired leg and sometimes the winter was rough on her. Before I went to Nepal in late February we were struggling with her because she was irritating her leg by licking it. She seemed insistent on doing so and had worn it raw. Putting antibacterial ointment on it seemed to help but barely, even with foul tasting gel meant to keep her from licking. Then I went away for two weeks and she stopped licking the hairless scar area and it got better, just plain pink skin.

Meche's theory is that since no one walked Maya while I was away, the leg stopped bothering her and she stopped licking at it. Well, she could have a point. When I wasn't home they simply let her run around the backyard when she needed or wanted to go out, particularly for an hour or two in the afternoons when the daycare urchins are asleep, and the leg problem healed.

Of course, I resumed our routine. Even though it snowed just before I got home and even the week after, if I recall now. I had to admit she tended to favor the hurt leg when was cold and was more prone to falling. One time a couple weeks ago, she took a terrible dive while straying off trail and perhaps thinking she was a full-fledged quadruped again. Then she limped back to the car, holding her leg up and askew so that I was afraid she'd re-injured it. Once home, she seemed to get over the discomfort and started walking on it again. So I cut back, not taking her out if it was too cold or wet and when we do go out, I've been keeping our jaunts shorter.

With the weather warming—albeit  a bit brisk some mornings—Maya is doing very well and this past week hasn't appeared particularly protective or conscious of her leg. It could be that the cold just gets to her. After all, she has a pin from her knee to her erstwhile ankle. Come on! Even the baby finger I broke in high school still reacts sometimes to certain raw weather. I've mentioned before the idea of getting her booties. Now I'm looking for them, though I found one thing on line that might be better: an insulated wrap with straps and velcro just for rehabilitating injured legs. That might be an option, or very high, tough booties. I don't think I need them right now but definitely well before next winter.

The other day we went out for only 1.8 miles, just shy of an hour, as I let her pretty much determine when she was done. We'd walked a mile up the mountain to the cross trail. From there either going straight or taking the left route leads to the peak and the right one loops southwest and then reconnects to the main trail. I took the right branch, but Maya wanted to turn around and head back to the car. She soon started tracking back toward the main trail—basically saying, "Hello? This way." I cut back through the woods and quickly rejoined the main route and Maya couldn't have been happier. She headed down that trail with homing-like enthusiasm.

I did detour her ever so slightly toward the end of the hike. She stood on the main trail and watched me—exasperated—as I headed off on a windy bicycle path into a stand of trees. Then she joined me. I have to admit she's really good that way. She regularly stops at trail crosses or forks or where side trails veer off and waits to see which way I'm going. All I have to do sometimes is point in the direction I'm going to take and she heads off. Hey, she's leading.

It amazes me how she stops, looks and then follows my directions—unless she disagrees. Like that detour the other day, when she just looked at me like, "Duh! What's this crap?" Thank goodness for limited short-term memory because as soon as she refocused (perhaps resigned herself), she set off ahead to lead the way back to the car again. Me, my dog and an infinite loop. Duh! What's this ...

Pooches of Nepal

Dogs are everywhere in Nepal, wandering city streets and village lanes, sleeping on doorsteps or in the middle of sidewalks, and barking from porches and crop terraces, none of which is all that unusual for many parts of the world, but what struck me most was their presence at both Hindu and Buddhist shrines, temples and monasteries.

At Bodhnath, Asia's largest Buddhist stupa, a type of shrine.

So, obviously, I would have spent the last two weeks there taking a few shots for this dog blog. Okay, it’s not walking Maya but it was walking around Kathmandu and on a three-day hike north of the city on part of what’s called the Helambu trek.

Focusing on dogs is not meant to diminish the human dimension of Nepal. It is one of the poorest countries in the world, and while it is famous for mountain climbing and spiritual pilgrimage, it is in many ways an isolated nation beset with large ethnic, cultural and linguistic differences, religiously inculcated class distinctions, and political instability. It sits buffer-like between two Asian and global powers, India and China, and depending on whether you are with Brahmins and Chhetris castes or Sherpas and Tibetans it can seem more like one than the other. Until only a few years ago it was ruled as a monarchy and has now slid into a form of lingering disfunctualism as a Maoist transition government holds onto power by endlessly delaying the task of writing a new constitution. It's important for me to say, though, that the people of Nepal are among the loveliest people in both manner and aspect that I have encountered anywhere in my travels. Circumstances in the country are very difficult but the people are its treasure, as trite as that may sound.

At a village in Helambu area north of Kathmandu.

In Nepal I took almost two hundred photos of dogs, and while that includes many duplicates, I could easily have doubled that amount with fewer shots of the same ones. After a while I couldn’t see the point of endless shots of sleeping dogs—besides a couple of times they awoke to catch me me stealing their images, weren’t pleased and sent me scampering out of the way of gnashing and snapping teeth. I also skipped shots of a lot of very mangy dogs because that was just depressing. Organizations can be found on the Web that work to help and rescue street dogs in Nepal.

I’d hoped on the trek to see a few of those Himalayan mastiffs—or they might be called Tibetan mastiffs, not sure—but most of what was there appeared primarily to be mutts. The Nepali people seems pretty tolerant of them, and one friend told me it was because in the reincarnation beliefs of Hindus and Buddhists dogs are thought to be close to humans on their graduated living-spiritual journeys, not necessarily sacred like cows are to Hindus but to be shown respect or at least left alone. Again, I'm not an expert here, so I'm not making claims to getting this exactly right.

Two live dogs at Kathmandu's hilltop Swayambhunath, a Buddhist stupa also called the monkey temple, join their stone guardian counterpart, which I believe is the lion-dog figure, common at Buddhist sites.

Apparently, dogs are also considered guardians of the gates to Heaven and Hell and there are various references to dogs among the Hindu pantheon. Only once did I see someone be aggressive toward one of these temple guardians, and that wasn't all that severe, just a matter-of-fact little toe kick to get it out from under foot. In November, there is even a special day for dogs. This is from Wikipedia about the five-day Tihar festival: The second day is called Kukur Tihar or Kukur Puja (worship of the dogs). Dog, which is believed to be messenger of Lord Yamaraj, the God of death, is worshiped once a year on this day, and people offer garlands, tika and delicious food to the dogs, and acknowledge the cherished relationship between humans and the dogs.

As for the Buddhists, I read elsewhere that killing animals, particularly dogs, is a sin in Tibetan Buddhism, the main form practiced in Nepal, and that is another reason why there are so many stay dogs in cities and villages and around the shrines, temples and monasteries.

I took pictures, but didn't make any effort to engage the dogs. Rabies is not uncommon there, and although I've had my shots for it, I've no interest in going through the booster treatment. And besides rabies, a bite could nonetheless lead to a serious infection. A friend here in the states—a veterinarian—got a vicious infection from a dog bite working in a vet hospital and ended up hospitalized twice and losing flexibility in half of her hand, and this is professional who got quick treatment and knew what was going on!

  

I had hoped to post to this blog from Nepal but time constraints made it pretty difficult to find space enough to devote to it, and besides the Internet connection at the hotel was very spotty. Next time I’ll get my iPhone unlocked, replace the SIM card and tether it to my laptop as a wi-fi device. Duh! A friend who arrived the last week in Nepal did that and had great service at a very reasonable price. On the other hand, not being tethered to the Net wasn’t so bad either. So, I started this blog on the plane flying back. With a four-hour flight from Kathmandu to Dubai, a four-hour layover and then a 12-hour flight from Dubai to JFK, I got a jump on the jet lag that always follows trips to Asia. I haven't been to Asia in three years, but I usually spend the first week afterward walking around like a zombie—sleepy and spacey in the day and restless at night. So if the reader encounters more than my usual share of typos, perdoname.

And back to the namesake of this blog, Maya, several people in Nepal commented (when conversation led to personal/family story) about her name being a common Nepali (and Indian) name, so maybe there's a Maya among these pictures anyway.

Namaste.*

* Napali greeting that translates roughly, "I greet the divine in you," or maybe, "The divine spirit in me greets the divine spirit in you." It's a recognition that we all share in the spirit of God.

At Hindu shrine in Kathmandu's Durbar Square.

Kathmandu street sweeper lets sleeping dog lie.

At Bodhnath stupa in town of Boudhanath where many Tibetan refugees gather around this major Buddhista shrine.

At Bodhnath, a dog joins worshipers at pooja (prayer).

At Swayambhunath

At Bodhnath

At Bodhnath

At Kopan, an important Tibetan Buddhist monastery near Bodhnath.

While on Helambu trek.

Girl with her dog, Rocky, in highland village just outside Nepal's Langtang National Park.

Sunning in highland village.

A canine resident accompanies us for a while on our way out of mountain village.

  

Training and trail mutiny

A couple of weeks ago Maya and I returned to dog training. She remembered what she was supposed to do, as if she's only had a short hiatus rather than an eight-month break. Chris, one of the lead trainers, commented as much, that Maya remembered a lot, as we were leaving the first time back. Last weekend she likewise did very well, though her owner got called out for giving lousy direction and no positive feedback during a practice at heeling. Hey, she knew what she was doing and I was just showing her off.

It's a good time to go back to training because we're picking up in a phase II class right about where she was when she got hurt. She's got to master this heeling thing a little better (or, more correctly, I guess, I do) and then also understand and obey the "place" command. That is, go to a "place" such as her cushion and stay there! She's got no reason to complain about that. She's got a more comfy spot than half the places to sit in this house. My sister-in-law gave me two cushions off a couch she was tossing and they're perfect for Maya. They provide a lot more support than typical doggie beds you'd find in pet stores. Of course, just to spoil her, as if we didn't enough, I put her fluffy, but thin dog bed on top of her couch cushion. Heard no complaints.

Sacked out after a forced march on the mountain.

Since Christmas break, Maya and I have made multiple forays onto the mountain, and unfortunately, she is either getting tired of that place or of our walks. The first indication she was not interested in even heading up the mountain was on Epiphany Sunday in the afternoon when we headed out for our usual hike there. Just in from the parking lot, she tried mutiny, bolting back to the car after I let her off leash. She's never done that before, and of course she ran to the parking area, only a dirt patch just big enough for three or four cars off the road. Even though I called her, she ignored me and I lost sight of her briefly after she cleared the trail. I found her near the door of the minivan wanting to get back in. This was a dilemma since I want to be aware of what she's communicating to me, but on the other hand, who's calling the shots here? I'd been walking her off leash regularly and was able to squeeze in five hikes of two to four miles each during Christmas week. Some she seemed to enjoy and others she was tired before we were done.

Yesterday, she staged a repeat rebellion, dashing back to the car, even though another dog was heading onto the trail at the same time as we were. I had to get her and walk her well into the woods, past some thickets that form a barrier between the trail head/parking lot and the park. Once off-leash she could have followed the path back but hasn't so far. I don't know what's up with her. Yesterday she was practically trying to crawl herself back to the car. I'm sure the only reason I got her to even start walking with me was because I had a training collar on her so pulling was uncomfortable. Once we started walking, though, she did fine and it was such a beautifully warm day that it couldn't have been the weather that was the problem. We did 3.3 miles. When I put her leash back on she again pulled like her life depended on getting out of there. I'm going to give the mountain a break and see how she reacts to some other places. Maybe because of her leg long walks are uncomfortable and she knows the mountain often entails one.