Stereotypically American

January 19, 2016

At 41,000 feet over The Pacific Ocean

Somewhere between Honolulu and Los Angeles

Since I began putting myself 'out there' in blog land, I have shared some unique travel episodes. Starting with El Camino then to the Middle East and Greece and then off to the Arctic circle and the Alaska Highway, I've been writing. And sharing. Sharing the things that I see and my feelings, emotions and insights of these experiences. This seems to have taken me to some kind of a greater understanding of myself. I feel like the roadmap of my life just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

Walking El Camino, being with people of many different nations, I realized, to my disgust, that I am a stereotypical American. I speak one language. In Europe, traveling from one country to another is as involved as our driving from Kansas to Colorado. Crossing country borders is no big thing. Traveling like this from a very early age, it seems that most Europeans can speak at least one language other than their native tongue. Perhaps that extra language isn't fluent, but it is certainly enough to accomplish communication.

To remedy this lack of education, I'm off to Antigua, Guatemala for three weeks to be immersed in Spanish. I will be attending the Academy of Spanish Language, 4 hours per day, 5 days a week. I will be living with a Guatemalan family. During the evenings I will be doing homework, learning about the Guatemalan history and culture, and soaking in as much as I can of the Spanish language. The school offers cultural tours and classes as part of their curriculum. Weekends will be spent exploring Mayan ruins and touring the countryside. And speaking Spanish. At least that is my vision and my hope.

And I am scared. Scared of failure. I've been listening to Spanish language lessons recently and I need to hear, and repeat, phrases and words over and over and over. It just seems like it takes an inordinate amount of time and repetition for this to sink in. With one-on-one instruction, I am afraid that I will make my instructor wonder how on earth this 60 year old woman expects to learn a new language.

One thing I am NOT scared of is seeing this through to the end. Having pushed through those 500 miles in Spain I feel confident in myself. Completion is in my regular course of life now. Even if I come home with only a smattering of Spanish, I will be better equipped for my travels. Perhaps I can connect with the Spanish speaking population of Hilo, which I've recently learned, is growing every year.

Do I wish I had taken this challenge a bit earlier in life? Sure I do. So why didn't I? I can easily say because I was busy raising a family, being in relationships, working, or any of a plethora of reasons. As my old friend Gil McNabb used to say, 'Excuses are like as*ho*les. Everybody has one and uses it regularly'. The biggest reason for my not pursuing this kind of opportunity earlier in life is because I didn't give myself permission. Permission to do something that wasn't expected of me. Permission to even consider the possibilities. While some women gave themselves permission at a very young age, I just didn't. The happy news is that I'm there now.

In the past few weeks many of my women friends have said they travel vicariously through me. So ladies, let's go. My writing will most certainly cover the joys, and sometimes trials, of our travels. As I have been in a rather reflective mood since the first of the year, I am certain my thoughts will spill over to this venue.

Naturally my fearless travel companion, my beautiful John, will be sharing with me in these adventures. I'm so blessed to have him in my life and to have opportunities like this. We are both enjoying seeing more and more of the world but, more importantly, absorbing the cultures and meeting the people in our travels. Life is so very good to us.

A long layover at LAX. Isn't it nap time yet?

As Mark Twain said, 'Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.

Go in peace. 

Contemplations of El Camino de Santiago

2015-10-04

Upland CA

This morning I sit in the upstairs bedroom at Aunt Pam's home, listening to rain. It is mostly a sprinkle, with occasional spurts of heavier showers, that has been going on for nearly a half of an hour. I know the people here, walking to that sound of raindrops, will be so happy. Perhaps the precipitation of El Niño that has been hitting us so hard in Hawaii is finally beginning to get to this area of the world.

In the past few days, I've been reflecting upon my time on the Camino last year. One year ago today, we were at Cruz de Ferro, a significant and emotional place on El Camino. The need to go back to my writings and determine where we were on these days, a year earlier, has been prompted by my growing desire to walk again. What is it about El Camino de Santiago that compels so many people to walk again? Upon reaching Santiago de Compostella and the cathedral last year I would not have believed that I would want to walk that way again, but I do. 

John was in such pain, from Leon to Santiago, that we were both fixed almost exclusively on completion, returning home and getting him to a doctor. This is a portion I would like to do again, and then continue on to Finisterra. John, who spent part of his childhood in Spain, wants to do the section of the El Camino from Barcelona to Zaragosa, where his family lived.  And then there is El Camino Portugese, a trek from Lisbon, through Porto and into Santiago. This trek sounds like a less difficult walk, with very little of the elevation extremes that the El Camino Frances has. 

What compels me to walk this journey again? Is it a need to feel that special oneness with others walking? Or to spend that time with John? Or, perhaps, a need to feel the closeness to God that I experienced on the trek last year?  I know that many people walk El Camino a second, third or many more times. When we met people last year who were not walking for the first time, we asked them why. Why do you to this to yourself again? I don't remember any of them having an explanation. The heart yearns to be there, so the body follows.

I know it will take a bit of time for John to heal from his shoulder surgery. I suspect it will take up to a year for his entire range of motion to return. We've been told that he should have most of it back in six months. During this time of healing and recovery, I think a bit of planning may be in order. 

The birds have started singing on this early morning, and the showers have subsided. All I hear of the rain now are the few lone drops falling from the roof to the table umbrella under my window. As the early morning is beginning to get light, there is a bit of precious water making the sidewalk shiny. Blessings. 

I will continue to ponder the next El Camino trek and to discuss it with my love, John. And yes, he has been expressing a desire to return. 

The pull is strong and is certainly undeniable. El Camino de Santiago, you are powerful.

August 20, 2015

Arctic Circle Wayside Camp area

Alaska Highway-check.

Now....

Arctic Circle-check. Huh?

After completing our run at the Alaska Highway and hanging out around Fairbanks for a couple of days, we were reviewing our maps and discovered we aren't too far from the arctic circle. So...we decided to give it a shot.

Now, as we camp at the Arctic Circle wayside camp area, I feel that we are really beginning our typical mode of travel. That is, look at the map and figure out where we may go the next day. The Alaska Highway wasn't nearly as difficult as we had been lead to believe. But, as we camp the Arctic Circle, I must wonder, what may keep us from going further.

This has been a journey of enlightenment and different from camping trips we have taken before. In years past, as we have traveled in our Hale Iki, we have taken time and explored the side roads. On this trip, once we left Bremerton, I felt like there was no time for the unexpected turns, or journeys. After a few days, I had an, 'Ah Ha' moment. John's aspiration is to drive the Alcan. Oh. Ok. I get it. This is a life quest for John - a bucket list item. I suppose it's a guy thing, to drive the Alaska Highway. For me, it's a great trip into the Yukon and Alaska. But there were no side trips. Maybe next time we can take some of those short hikes, and see more of the local life.

The sunset here, in the Arctic Circle Wayside Camp area, seems to last forever. And it's a mighty fine and beautiful sunset. The sky stays red for over an hour. The special attribute of the Arctic Circle is that, at the summer solstice, the sun does not set. There are 24 hours of light. As I write, in mid-August at 10:30 PM, it is still light enough to see everything beautiful thing around me. And the sunset is still a glorious red and orange. As I sit writing in the camper, I am deterred from venturing outside due to the incredible bear activity around. The grizzlies are getting ready for winter and eating every berry and root they can. I'd hate to get in the way of a hungry bear, even with my trusty 'bear-banger'.  I just don't feel like taking that kind of chance.  And John is zonked out, so there is no protection coming from his corner.

We have been incredibly blessed on our journey. Good weather, for the most part, and reasonable driving conditions. We have seen some beautiful places and met wonderful people.

This has been a day of intense driving, on the Dalton highway toward Prudhoe Bay. Narrow, dirt and mud roads. Long haul trucks zooming toward us. No shoulder to pull off to. And pot holes. Some were deep enough to hide a small car in. Rain, mixed with sleet and snow.  There are a number of stretches that are paved, but there are still those pot holes. And the frost heaves. In the Arctic tundra there are frost heaves, where the road has been frozen the thawed, then driven over. Frost bumps. Who knew?

So now, sitting inside of the Arctic Circle, we are considering a drive to Prudhoe Bay. Yes, the Arctic Ocean. Have we assumed that we are invincible? No. We certainly didn't plan on taking a journey to the Arctic Circle. It was just a thought a day ago and we agreed end to give it a shot. We did well enough that we may go much further. We will stop in Coldfoot AK, (really, that the name) about 100 miles north of here, and survey our plan. Is Hale Iki set? Are we set? That will be determined in the morning, after the bravado of a couple of cocktails is history.

For now, it's time to leave on the fleece and climb into our sleeping bag. Who knows what tomorrow may bring. -----

A Visit To Nazareth

April 14, 2015

This day was a walk in the steps of the apostles and Jesus.  It was heartwarming to see so much has survived the ravages of time and the wars of mankind.

We arrived in the busy port of Haifa early, but didn't need to go through the stringent customs and immigration process of the previous day, as we had already been cleared. The military presence is felt in Haifa, but not nearly as visible as it was in Ashdod and Jerusalem. 

Our tour guide of the day was Luisa, a delightful woman who, like all of our guides, is highly educated in the religious, political, cultural and geographical components of her nation.

Our first stop in Nazareth was the Church of the Annunciation, located on the traditional spot where Mary was told by the angel Gabriel that she was the chosen, among all women, to bear the Son of God.

Near the Church of the Annunciation is the church of St Joseph. Between the two huge complexes is a courtyard with a large mosaic. As I walked up the stairs and turned back, I realized it is a huge mosaic of an olive tree, with a peacock in the lower branches. The tree of peace. I pointed it out to Luisa, and others of our group, and she was so  surprised. She said there are normally so many people in the square that she had never seen the design. Needless to say, we were enjoying a day of fewer tourists than we had in Jerusalem.

From Nazereth, we headed northeast to the Sea of Galilee.

The Sea of Galilee is 500 feet below sea level and very fertile. From our viewpoint, we could see the Golan Heights, and the borders of Lebanon, Syria and Jordan.  The war rages on, but we never felt in jeopardy.

In this picture, the Golan Heights are in the middle of the photo, on the banks of the Sea of Galilee.  The locals call this body of water Lake Galilee, since it is fresh water provided by the Jordan River.

We had lunch at a kibbutz that is located on Lake Galilee and enjoyed some terrific Middle Eastern food.  This kibbutz also operates as a hotel for the busy area around the lake. Before climbing back into the bus, John used the w/c.  Check it out...  Notice the sign between the urinals...

 
Our tour guide had NO idea what this was all about.  She headed to the customer service desk to get the scoop.  As most of us already know, the Jewish faith has rules about not working on the Sabbath day.  This particular facility has an electronic eye that automatically flushes when the man using it walks away.  The hotel management said that the electronic urinals should not have to work on Sabbath.  The men have to use the regular toilets, lift the seats and actually flush on their own on Sabbath.  I just couldn't resist posting this little piece of trivia...

After our lunch, we came to Yardenitat at the River Jordan. The area is housed on the grounds of the kibbutz Yardenitat, and is managed by residents of the kibbutz. As could be expected, there were bus loads of people, most notable, six buses from Eritrea. These were the same beautiful people we saw in Jerusalem the day before, and they were going for the whole experience.

Donning the white robe and walking into the river, the came out with radiant smiles. A man from the kibbutz was trying to keep the Eritreans from pulling their clothes off to change into the white robes, right on the steps of the Jordan River. 'Please, please, use the changing rooms. Don't disrobe out here.' While we thought it rather amusing, the poor man was quite beside himself.




In the town of Capernaum we toured the remains of the home of St Peter and his family. According to our guide, St Mary lived there for a few years and where one of the first churches got it’s start. It is easy to see how the families lived on their roofs, as there were no windows and the rooms were only large enough to use for sleeping quarters.

Twice today I was asked to read some scripture, to help explain why the area we were visiting was significant. One time, I just happen to be sitting near our guide in the shade at Capernaum and she asked me to read the Luke 4: 31-39.  This is the story of Jesus casting out the devil when he was in Capernaum. The next time, at the Mount of Beatitudes, she waited for me to catch up with the group and asked me to read the scripture of the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5: 1-12.

I asked John why he thought Luisa wanted me to read at Mt Beatitude, instead of someone else from our group. He replied that I read with the feeling needed to convey the message. Out of habit, I ended each reading with, 'The Word of the Lord' and a few of our group chimed in, 'Thanks be to God'. The fact is, I enjoy reading scripture aloud, as doing so helps me slow down and take in the meaning. I remember my Granddad Starkey reading scriptures to me when I was a youngster and how he read with such feeling, occasionally stopping to explain something I didn't understand. I can only hope that some of what I learned from him has rubbed off on me.

River Jordan, near where John the Baptist baptized Jesus.

Delphi

April 24, 2015

Delphi Greece, the home of Apollo

I've decided to stay reasonably current with the outings and will circle back to earlier adventures when I return...

We left Olympia at 8 am and we had a delightful stop a couple of hours later in the small harbor town of Nafpaktos.

A bit of coffee and a stroll around the harbor was just what I needed to remember that Greece isn't all just about ruins. 

Two more hours on our bus and we reached the ancient ruins of Delphi, the center of the world for the ancient Greeks.   I wish I had more Greek history and mythology between my ears, but I am getting a good dose this week.  Early on in these ramblings, I promised to not turn this into a monologue of our itinerary. I should have also promised not to become a history lesson. There is SO much ancient history, so many gods and goddesses, so many stories and ruins, I'm having an astounding class. Many of the tourists we meet at the ruins of Greece are Greek, other European and lots of students. What a great way to bring history alive. Perhaps I would have stayed more interested in high school if I have an opportunity like this. 

Delphi...the museum holds artifacts dating back to 7th century BC that were here and is a great example the influence surrounding cultures had on each other. The Temple of Apollo held a huge marble statue of him there are treasuries, that I understand were also temples of a sort, the Oracle and we walked up to the stadium. Greeks were big on stadiums and theaters. Some of our pictures...

The twins, who died while sleeping after performing heroic feats, are an excellent example of the best of the best in Delphi. 

We hiked to the top of the mountain to see the stadium. We could see the starting blocks for the athletes. All of this during the 5th to 1st century BC.  It is impressive and I can occasionally imagine myself in that era. Or perhaps not, as women were not allowed in the stadiums for contests, nor in the temples, theaters or centers of debate. 

My brutely honest thoughts here...there are a lot of ancient rocks in Greece. Without our fabulous tour guide, we would have been lost. But I can only hold so much antiquity at a time. I'm overwhelmed by the magnitude and greatness of these ruins but something is being lost on me in the translation. This is a culture SO ancient, I have a hard time relating. 

I certainly accept the importance of the great scientists, astronomers, economist and philosophers of the time. Democratic government got its beginnings in Greece. But I believe I've had enough of looking at rocks and ruins.  For me it becomes more alive when I interact with the people of the culture. To learn about their lives, beliefs, customs and loves.  That is what makes me want to travel. 

The end of our trip is drawing near. I question how long will compare my travels to my experience on the El Camino last year.  Walking across a country seems to be a great way to learn the culture, meet the people and really get a feel of things.  A whirlwind tour leaves me tired, physically and mentally. It's time to figure out what means of travel learning we want have on our next adventure. Any ideas???

A Catching Up Entry

April 22, 2015

Nauplia, Greece 

Wow. It's been over a week since I wrote entire day of adventures. We have traveled well over 800 miles in that time, but have experienced over three millennium of history. For anyone who is truly paying attention...sorry. It's been a whirlwind of activity. 

The itinerary in brief:

Tuesday April 14, Nazareth and the Golan Heights

Wednesday April 15, a day at sea, doing laundry (my John, the laundry man) and getting ready to leave the ship soon. 

Thursday April 16, Kusadasi Turkey and the breathtaking Ephesus. 

Friday April 17, the Greek isle of Mykonos and the ancient ruins of Delos

Saturday, disembark the ship at 8:30 AM in Athens and tour the Greece National Museum before settling in for a night of rest in Athens. 

Sunday April 18, onto a small tour boat for a tour of the Greek islands of Hydrea, Poros and Aegina. 

Monday April 19, Athens and a visit to the new Acropolis Museum, as well as a trip up the cable tram to the highest hill in Athens and a tiny chapel of St George. 

Tuesday April 21, the Acropolis of Athens, the ancient Parthenon, and the Erechtheum temple, among a number of stops. 

Wednesday April 22 (today), Corinth, ...

So much and so many fast miles through time we have traveled. It's late at night and I wish to share only a few of the incredibly moving moments of the past week...

Nazareth meant being in the places that Christ got started with his ministry, including the River of Jordan. The most significant moments for me were watching the large group of Eritheans at the river, immersing themselves, singing and praying. These are the same people we meet in Jerusalem. I was completely touched by their amazing faith. There are many other moments of that day that I shall share when I have the time, but this one brought me to a place of peace. 

Our day in Turkey meant seeing the huge, inspiring ruins of Ephesus. Again, I shall share more of the trip later, but my biggest moments of this day was being in the theater that St Paul spoke to the Corinthians, while we toured the ancient  city...and an evening concert, back at that same theater.

This was a goosebumps night, with the theater lit up, and we were snuggled at tables with wonderful music performed by the Kusadasi Philharmonic. 

On to Greece and Mykonos with the ruins of Delos...I was underwhelmed, mostly because of my experience at Ephesus. More ancient ruins, more Greek history and more data to process. Sorry Delos...My brain was still in Ephesus. 

We arrived in Athens early Saturday and spent the next few days seeing the sights, some of it on our own, some with tours...

Sunday was a delightful cruise to the three aforementioned islands, with some terrific entertainment. Later in the day the dancers got many of our fellow passengers to dance with them. Between the rocking boat and the wine, I only lasted a few minutes!  

More later. The ancient history lessons of high school have faded, so I'm in a serious learning curve. Thanks for hanging in there with me. 

Jerusalem

Monday April 13, 2015

Port of Ashod, Israel 

We had an early start on our day, clearing through a very strict military and immigration process at the Port of Ashod. That said, I hardly know where to begin with a description of our long day. The itinerary for the day included The Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, Old Jerusalem, David's Tomb, a site called The Upper Room and a traditional kibbutz. Instead of a rambling description of all of these tremendously significant places, I feel I should focus on the emotions of the day. 

Before I begin, I must say that we covered an amazing amount of territory in a very short amount of time. Our tour guide, Schlomoe, was amazingly well versed, not only in the historical and religious aspects of our journey, but also with the politics. We felt lucky to have him as our guide.  In many ways our delay in the Gulf of Suez was a blessing, the most significant being that our trip through Jerusalem the day after Orthodox Easter, instead of the day of.  The sites we visited were very crowded, but much less so than they would have been if we were there on Sunday. 

The Mount of Olives is such a significant religious area, but I was not terrifically impressed. The mount affords a tremendous view, from afar, of Jerusalem and the walls of the old city. As could probably be expected, it has been cemented over with monuments. It's entirely possible that there are areas of the mount that are still somewhat pristine, but we did not visit them. 

The Garden of Gethsemane was an emotional stop. The olive trees are not the same ones that were there when Jesus had his final moments on earth, but they are quite old and beautiful. We learned that older olive trees are hollow, therefore it is impossible to really put an age on them. Perhaps people are like that also...if they have nothing inside, they do not age, but they must lack the love, tenderness, joy, heartache and fulfillment of life. I'll accept age, as long as my core has something inside.

The garden is now on the grounds of the Church of  the World, one of many churches that we visited in our two days. I'd love to say exactly who built this church, but I have been overwhelmed with information and simply cannot remember. That is the way of most of our days in Israel...so much information, facts and data that I went into mental overload. Suffice to say, it was beautiful...and crowded. 

When we walked through the the Dung Gate (so named because in ancient times the dung was removed via this entry) of the old city of Jerusalem, we were right behind a family celebrating a bar mitzvah. Schlomoe explained that bar mitzvahs can only be done on certain days, and Monday is one of those days. We walked into the city in the Jewish Quarter and by the the West Wall, also know as the Wailing Wall. 

I was less moved by the wall itself than by the mass of people who are faithfully praying there. My assumption has always been that the Jews of Israel were all religious, but discovered that only 20% of the population are really practicing their faith. Of them, less than 1/2 are Orthodox. Much of my time in Israel was about smashing my assumptions. 

Old Jerusalem city is broken into quarters.  The Jewish, the Christian, the Muslim and the Armenian quarters are all connected by streets that are congested with shops, shoppers, tourists and pilgrims. In this old city, it seems that everyone is more than tolerant of each other and they live and work in harmony. We walked through all of the quarters, learning about each faith and visiting some their revered holy places. 

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After walking down the crowded Via Delrosa, where tradition holds that Christ carried the cross he was crucified on, we came to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This church was built around the place that is traditionally believed to be where Christ was prepared for burial. With many hundreds of people milling about in the square, and the throngs of faithful inside, I began to back into a corner, just to escape the masses of people. My feelings of faith were replaced by feelings of claustrophobia. And we learned that this was an uncommonly quiet day.  I accept people's need to visit as an affirmation of their faith, but it's just not for me. The entire city is an overload for someone who prefers to sit in quiet solitude. 

Men of Georgia, in their traditional clothing. 

A group of Orthodox Christians from Eritrea, waiting in the square to go inside of the church, touched my heart in ways that no building or historical site ever could. Nearly two hundred of them, from their famished country, have made their way to Jerusalem. We learned that organizations around the world sponsor and pay for the Christians of this war torn, starving country, to do their pilgrimage. Serious, but also laughing and smiling, they waited patiently. As our group left the area, one of the women and I exchanged a loving hand hold and a sharing of God's Peace. Isn't that what this is all about?  

We ended our day at the Kibbutz Ramat Rachel, a beautiful kibbutz that was once outside the city. Jerusalem has grown around the kibbutz and yet they continue to operate in the traditional ways. Well, mostly traditional. They have set up part of their operation as an inexpensive hotel, as have many other kibbutz of Israel. 

Enough rambling. I've written too much already, and said very little.  I will probably return to Israel someday, with a vastly different mindset and time frame. Peace be with you, dear reader and in the days following our return to Hawaii, I'll continue processing my thoughts and feelings. 

Garden of Gethsemane. 

My sweety, on another ancient Roman road. This one in much better shape than what we walked on in Spain.