My jaw drops every time I leave our apartment. Every day regular activities of my fellow El Bigians stop me in my tracks. I can't sketch or take photos fast enough, and I'm self conscious about doing so. The loss of the anonymity that I had in SF is disconcerting. I've been in town for a few weeks and my culture shock hasn't died down at all. At this point I can't imagine how it ever will. I ask Que to take special note of this time and ask me how I'm doing in a year...
The locals continue to stare at us like we have three heads. The hardest part is trying not to stare back at them.
Que's photographic highlights from the Summer festival...
The man in the large rigg is trying to ride over the wheels of the small rigg. The woman driving the smaller rigg darts ahead 20 feet, and they repeat it all over again.
Click on photo to see the grin on the cowboy's face.
Where's Waldo?
Mennenights at the Quilt Show
Quiltin' cowboy
***
Pretty detail on the street lights on the main avenue.
A recently rennovated apartment on the south side of town.
"20 tans for 36.00 dollars!"
A window sticker on an apartment window...
Unlike California ruralites who enjoy wearing military styles, El Bigians wear an attractive cammoflouge created from Photoshop images of leaves and sticks. You often see people wearing cammo out at dinner, shopping, or hanging out with friends at the cafe...
There is a big bronze scene in the El Big valley. One nearby town boasts of international fame for it's artist foundries. We walk down the main street and spot huge bronze sculptures--all with varying degrees of skill and talent--placed in every open space available. There's no escaping them. Here is a snapshot of an enormous painted bronze bald eagle on the outskirts of town...
Wide selections of fancy Western belt buckles...
Thank God.
