We took notice that the walkway did not have a grave marker every place along the path. So Sacagawea agreed to carefully navigate herself around the markers.
It was shortly after this we discovered an oriental structure. I had no idea the Chinese had settled amidst the Spanish. Indeed the structure was fascinating. As I scoured the details of this great edifice, (which included hand and foot prints in the clay) a middle-aged woman asked if she could take a "picture" of me. Behind her stood her family, a man of the same age and two prepubescent children. I agreed, not entirely certain of their intentions, but knowing this was a way to study their behavior. The children stood along either side of me and I knew instantly they wished to paint our portrait. Happily I obliged and the three of us faced the father. However, he was bereft of paintbrush and canvas. Instead, he held a tiny metal box to his face and commanded us to "say cheese." The children did as told, so I went along with them, saying the word "cheese" for no particular reason, but the food was obviously part of their culture. They felt satisfied, thanked me, and departed.
As I bid the family adieu, my fellow travelers joined me. With many people around, we posed for several portraits. One young child asked if I were a "cowboy." I assured him my occupation was to explore and record nature. I introduced myself as Meriwether Lewis and my partner, William Clark. Before I could introduce the rest of our band, the people about us laughed and took more portraits. One teenaged girl asked if Sacagawea were "Pocahontas," the Indian woman of lore. A girl with her informed her friend of Sacagawea's real name. We all found it amazing that people knew who we were. Although, Jean Baptise and Little Pomp were of no particular interest to anyone.
We returned to Jeep, only to discover it was no longer there. Clark raged that someone had pilfered our new mode of transportation! He confronted a passerby and inquired if the young man had seen the one who robbed us of Jeep. The man pointed to the red paint alongside the road and the unusual yellow metallic cross upon the pathway. We were told that there was "no parking" in such a place, and that Jeep was most likely impounded. He pointed to a sign above us upon which displayed several numbers. The man told us to call these numbers. Through our bewildered looks he surmised we were unclear with the command. So he pulled a small metal device from his belt and began tapping it with his fingers. He promised there would be a way to have Jeep returned to us.
So continued our journey.
Until Tomorrow, My Friends
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