Day 2

II woke up at 4:30 this morning so that I could go hiking before the heat got too extreme. Still, it was 88 degrees when I got into the car. I nudged G3 before I left to see if he wanted to come with me, but he was tired and opted to sleep. A wise decision considering he has to compete tomorrow. But if he qualifies again and we find ourselves back in Phoenix, I am definitely taking him up Camelback Mountain. It was the most enjoyable rock scramble I’ve ever done and G3 loves rock scrambles even more than I do.

The scenery was pretty. The reddish brown rocks, dotted with cacti and other greenery, against the blazing bright blue sky, streaked with wispy clouds. I was drenched with sweat when I reached the summit, but a cool breeze blew taking a serious edge off the heat. It was quiet up at the top, removed as I was from the city. Peaceful. Sitting in a shaded, breezy spot it was the most comfortable I’ve been since landing in Phoenix.

Whenever I drive a rental car or a car that isn’t mine, I am suddenly 17 again and driving my dad’s car out to Long Island for the first time. It was spring break and Dad had to work, but Mom and I wanted to get some yard work done for the Mattituck house. Dad told me I had to stay only in the right lane and I couldn’t go so much as one mile and hour above the speed limit. I held my hands at exactly 10 and 2 and I was rattling with nerves the entire drive. That was me this morning as I drove to and from Camelback Mountain in the brand new rental car.

While I was hiking, Kati was at the hotel fielding calls and e-mails regarding quite possibly our biggest blunder. Last month, our landlord said we needed to be out of the house by mid-July. We were already actively looking to move—predominantly to get G3 into a better school district. Once we got word that we had to move immediately, we put an aggressive offer on a house we didn’t love, but one that was in the district we wanted. We won the bid, put down a deposit, and the after the inspection—after we realized how many things were falling apart in the house and that the sellers lied on the Seller’s Disclosure—we decided we didn’t want the house. We didn’t want to overpay just to inherit a multitude of problems. But our lawyer is a lazy piece of crap. He came highly recommended by our realtor, but he is not advocating for us. It is clear he is working for the realtor, trying to push the sale through, even though we are the ones paying him. While we no longer want the house, we have no idea what we will do if we don’t buy it. The landlord wants us out ASAP, but more importantly, G3 needs to be in school come September.

When I returned from my hike, we were all really hungry so we went out for breakfast. Then, Kati wanted to make some more calls and do some research online. I didn’t want G3 sitting around the hotel. He’s really nervous about tomorrow and I wanted to get him out of his head. There was nothing either of us was itching to do in Phoenix, so I consulted the National Parks app. The closest thing to see that we hadn’t already visited were the Casa Grande Ruins—an hour south.

The drive was pretty. The land parched and desolate for miles. There were hardly any cars once we left Phoenix. I do love the saguaro cacti which are scattered through the desert. The sun, however, baked the car. Even with the A/C turned on high the heat was uncomfortable and the steering wheel burned my hands, forcing me to hold it lower than I should have.

The ruins consisted of what was once the largest structure of the village and a couple of smaller ones. Time, the elements, and tourists—in the days preceding the NPS— have taken a toll on the ruins. The clay is dried and crumbling and scarred with graffiti. It is now protected by a metal roof and tourists are not allowed to enter. G3 was disappointing. He wanted to go inside.

The area was settled centuries ago by what archaeologists call the Hohokam. Their descendants take issue with the term and find it offensive. They prefer, instead, to be identified as Ancestral Sonoran Desert People. Life in the desert, even before we started to destroy the planet, was harsh. Even when the first Native Americans arrived, summer temperatures soared into the hundreds. In order to develop an agricultural community, they needed water—not readily available in the desert where there isn’t much surface water and where there is less than a foot of rainfall per year. To meet their needs they turned to the Gila River and developed a system of irrigation by building canals. The extent of the canals and the efficiency of them proved to be a prehistoric marvel of engineering. Farming prospered, providing enough food that some members of the community were able to use their time for tasks not related to farming or hunting. Archeologists have found beautifully woven baskets and pottery, evidence that life for the Ancestral Sonoran Desert People was about more than survival.

As for the structure now referred to as Casa Grande, it was made from adobe clay in the 14th century. It was so well constructed that it too demonstrates advanced engineering skills for the time in which it was built. Villages of the Ancestral Sonoran Desert People included ball fields. The game they played was similar to the games played by the Mayans in Central America—not surprising considering the proximity of the people. Sea shells and other trade items were found among the ruins demonstrating that trade was fairly extensive, reaching as far as the Pacific Ocean.

The question that puzzles archaeologists is what happened to the people who built Casa Grade. A century after the construction, the village was abandoned? Why? One theory is that farming became so successful that the community grew too big. Having to grow so many crops stressed the water resources. As a result, farming eventually failed. Another theory is that flooding—evidence attests to several years of heavy flooding around the abandonment—carved deeper trenches in the canals, this prevented them from being able to efficiently move water during years when there was a great deal less.

The ruins were discovered in 1694 by Father Eusebio Francisco Kino, a Jesuit priest. In the late 1800s, Congress voted for them to become America’s first archeological preserve.

Back at the hotel, G3 jumped into the pool for a quick swim before we had to head out for dinner—G3 wanted Culver’s…again—and then downtown to the Convention Center for the Master’s Ceremony. Two of our instructors and one of our former instructors were inducted into the mastership so we wanted to go and support them. We met up with another ATA family with whom we are friends and we sat with them. Conversation with people you like always makes things more enjoyable.

The ceremony was steeped in Korean culture which made me miss being in Korea. It started with a traditional dance and a legend regarding dragons and the founding of Songham Taekwondo. Masters who died this year were honored and a candle was lit in memory of each of them. The inductees came forward and also lit candles. Sixth degree black belts became Masters; seventh degree Seniors Masters; eighth degree Chief Masters; ninth degree Grand Masters. Masters wear beautiful white silk uniforms; Senior Masters wear blue; Chief Masters red; and Grand Masters black and gold. Each inductee walked on stage to receive a certificate. Finally, the names of all the new masters were called and the Grand Master tapped them on the shoulder with the celebratory staff and dubbed them Master-Instructor. All through the ceremony traditionally dressed musicians played drums. It was an experience to be there, to watch. I am sure there were many Taekwondo students in the audience who are now inspired to become masters—G3 is one of them. As for me, I am inspired to go back to Korea. Hopefully, someday I will. Anyway, congratulations Master Rodriguez, Master Hansen, and Master Peterson.