Lake Frierson State Park

One of my favorite things in Arkansas is the state parks system. With multiple types of parks and a wide range of activities, they are sure to have something for everyone. For me, they offer hiking, geocaching, camping, fishing, swimming, and boating. This past weekend was the perfect weekend to enjoy the spring weather -- yes, SPRING! Not too hot, not too cold.

It was also graduation weekend for many university students accross the state and nation and as such I had just the state park to enjoy, one I had enjoyed on several occasions during my time as a student at Arkansas State University. Camping at Lake Frierson State Park would provide me the opportunity to see some of the last people I know at the university graduate, see some friends in the area and get to enjoy a weekend of camping.

As a student we would go to the lake and enjoy kayaking, playing on the playground (when there weren't children present, of course) and watching the sunset. It was a nice park, close enough to town to visit for a couple of hours. I had never visited the camping section.

Upon arriving to the camping area Friday night, I was surprised. The first thing I had to do was visit the restroom, which I expected to be like every other state park campground I had been in. What I found was a toilet in a room with a lock on it. There was no sink and no running water, but at least there was hand sanitizer. Wrong. It may have been labeled hand sanitizer but it was soap. Back at camp I used some bottled water to finish washing my hands before setting up camp.

Once I unloaded, set up the tent and staked it down I sat down at the picnic table to begin trying to make plans to meet some friends for dinner. Then someone came up behind me and told me to move that I was in their site. (He could have been a little nicer about it...) Rather than stand around and argue, I just pulled the stakes out of my tent and moved it; luckily I was camping alone and had a small tent so I didn't have to tear it down. Trying to figure out where to move it was another story. I knew my campsite number, but the sites were poorly laid out so it was hard to tell which site the numbers corresponded with.

That evening I decided to sleep outside; it isn't often I get the opportunity to camp under the stars, either because of the weather or the mosquito  I got a little cold so it was difficult to sleep, but what made it worse was the campsite's proximity to the boat ramp. Around 4:30 a.m. loud trucks began driving through the area along with boat trailers that didn't help the noise level anymore. I finally moved inside to avoid some of the lights shining in my eyes.

On the positive side, I think that the staff at the park are much friendlier than Lake Ouachiata State Park. The first night I was there one of the park rangers stopped and asked if I would be wanting any wood. I told him no and asked him about showers and he told me I could use the ones at Crowley's Ridge State Park if I was up for the drive. The next morning I finished the check-in at the office and inquired about what I would need to show if asked at the other park and they gave me some receipts.

According to the park staff they are trying to get running water and showers in the camping area, but haven't yet. No running water isn't a huge problem for me; I don't mind primitive camping, when I am expecting it. Of course, this was my fault. I am sure they offered the information if I had paid attention. 

Overall, this is a good park, but I do believe it is more for day-use.

Terminal A to G

I've heard that eating right before bed affects a person's dreams. I'm not sure how much truth there is to that or not, but I do know I have had some strange dreams the past week while taking an antibiotic that requires me to get up in the middle of the night to take it -- with food. On the bright side of things, I made it back to Spain.

It was my final day in Spain before my trip back to the United States. I had a flight to catch at 2 p.m. The weather was nice, sunny and warm. It was a nice relief after the long overnight bus ride in to Madrid. I pulled my two bags behind me as I wheeled through the airport terminal. I am about 8 hours early. It was more or less a routine trip, except the airport was new (rather, nonexistent . The airport was huge, with multiple runways and seven different terminals. My bus had let me off at terminal A.

I don't know why I was stressed; I wasn't short on time, but I had no clue where to go. I pulled out my ticket and saw Terminal G. Then I found a map of the airport. Terminal G was at the opposite corner of the complex, which included the other side of multiple runways. So how was I going to get  from Terminal A to International Terminal G? By this time I have about 7 hours before my flight, and I know I have to get there, check my bags, and make it through security. I begin looking for an airport employee, an information center, anywhere I can ask how to get from A to G.

When I finally find it, I have a discussion in Spanish. But they tell me most of the airport's ground transportation is still inoperable, but there will be a bus in about 15 minutes, and there will be another bus at 2 p.m. Definitely not what I want to hear at that point in time. The bus picks up at the other end of the crowded terminal I am in. If I don't catch the bus now, I am likely going to miss my flight.

Running through an airport is never fun, especially when you are carrying two bags, both packed to their max. I'm dodging people and objects as I fly through the airport trying to get down to where the bus will pick up. As I arrive to the bus stop, I see the bus about 10 feet away -- already pulled out into traffic, headed away from the bus stop. I sit down outside for a minute to try and gather my wits before getting on the metro and going elsewhere in the city. I get off a few stops later at a bus station and find a taxi.

Through all of the excitement I end up getting to Terminal G a few hours later -- about 3-4 hours before my flight. I'm on time at this point I think. I go check my backs and get to security. When I arrive to my gate I realize that I left a bag at the security checkpoint. Thirty minutes until boarding. I arrive back at the security checkpoint and describe my bag. They haven't seen it. That is when it hits me that I was only carrying two bags with me--both checked before getting to security. I hadn't had my third bag the entire time; I must have left it on the bus. With 15 minutes left until boarding and six hours since I got off the bus, I didn't have much chance. I didn't know what to do. In fifteen minutes, my ability to make phone calls to Spain would almost disappear. If I didn't make the call now, I may not see my bag again. I hope that someone will see the name and address written on it and somehow it will make it back to me in the U.S.

I woke up at that point so I don't know how the dream ends. I could make something up but it simply wouldn't be as interesting and crazy as the dreams tend to be. If only dreams could "to be continued..."