Goodnight, moon...

... goodnight, Baltimore.

Dozing off with a sense of deep affection for both where I am and where I'm going.  SO glad to go, but I'll sure miss you, Bmore and DC - and the wonderful people you hold within. 

Zora: On years.

#buniontalk

I've never considered myself much of a runner.  Running is something I took up because I have the coordination of a newborn colt, and the grace and swiftness in athletic movements of a three-legged cat -- which prevents me from enjoying/contributing in organized sporting activities.  Even the intermural ones. Not to mention the fact that I love napping -- and staying indoors when it's raining.  About two years ago I had a spell where I got really into running mainly because the gym Charlie and I joined had personal TVs on each treadmill.

Real runners zen-out when they run, move with swiftness and majesty, know exactly when to load up on Gatorade and have definitive reasons/clear positions in the morning v. evening running time and pre v. post stretching debates.

In spite of the large chasm between myself and all the real runners of the world -- I made the hair-brained decision to start training for a marathon a few months back.  And, GUYZ - after dedicating months and pretty much all my free time to running + the discovery that I started sending text messages like the one below  -- I think that I mayyy  have reached real-runnerdom status:

{I have arrived. O-fficially}

I have no idea how to feel about said arrival or where to go from here.

A Kentucky-kind of morn

He makes me lie down in green pastures.  He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul. {Ps.23.2}

A weekend ago was my last in Kentucky for a bit.  Mom and I decided to wake up early and head over to Southland to volunteer in the Community Gardens.  We spent the morning picking raspberries and seeking out the most-perfect among many tomatoes.

While I was initially reluctant to rise early -- I find myself now in DC reflecting on the past weekend

and being drawn to the simplicity, quiet, and lovely way we spent the morning above all else.  The moments of that morn blended together so beautifully that it felt like sacred time -- the tranquility of dawn, interrupted in gleeful bursts of children's cries from the soccer field nearby;  Mom chuckling at my ineptness in the realm of gardening and her quick and sage advice on finding the tomatoes that were actually ripe-for-the-pickin'.

At one point, a few little boys wandered over to help us pick raspberries -- their exclamations and rapt attention to the cause added joy to the already lovely endeavor.  We even found a wolly worm and marveled and laughed together at it's fuzziness and the way it creepy-crawled along.

Kentucky -- I miss your autumn mornings already.

from the fog.

Back from the blogging hiatus for a new york minute.  This week has been ponderous - infused with an abundance and bizarre amalgamation of happenings+feelings.

I am le tired and can't really articulate anything or pull much out of my head (as evidenced by the previous sentence), so instead I've been ruminating over these quotes:

One reason we rush so quickly to the vulgar satisfactions of judgment, and love to revel in our righteous outrage, is that it spares us from the impotent pain of empathy, and the harder, messier work of understanding.

--

Perhaps the reason we so often experience happiness only in hindsight, and that chasing it is such a fool’s errand, is that happiness isn’t a goal in itself but is only an aftereffect. It’s the consequence of having lived in the way that we’re supposed to — by which I don’t mean ethically correctly so much as just consciously, fully engaged in the business of living. In this respect it resembles averted vision, a phenomena familiar to backyard astronomers whereby, in order to pick out a very faint star, you have to let your gaze drift casually to the space just next to it; if you look directly at it, it vanishes. And it’s also true, come to think of it, that the only stars we ever see are not the “real” stars, those cataclysms taking place in the present, but always only the light of the untouchable past.

{-T.Kreider -- both via We Learn Nothing}

Madrid and the wrap-up.

Writing my final Greece/Spain travel blog makes the end of our trip feel o-fficial.  Combine this with my gifted-ness in the art of procrastination, and you end up with the Madrid blog post almost two-months since our departure.

Le sigh. So it goes in the land of writer's block and woolgathering.

{bullfighting ring with Sarah!}

Even though much time has lapsed -- our time in Madrid still stands our clearly in my mind.  We arrived on Friday evening and met up with my friend, Sarah, who spent her summer in Madrid interning and working on some really cool independent projects on the side.  

Sarah set the bar for Madrid high, taking us to this fantastic Chinese place. It was attached to a parking lot (?!) underneath the Plaza de España, and it was awesome.  I knew it was going to be good when the place was packed out at 8pm (a very early dinner time in Spain).  We wound down the evening with a stroll to the Royal Palace, National Cathedral, and Plaza Mayor.

Saturday (and Sunday) we had breakfast at a churro place Sarah recommended (that was fabulous).  We spent the weekend touring the city. A highlight was the visit to the Museo Nacional El Prado, where we got to see Goya's Las Meninas.  (The experience was augmented by having seen Picasso's study of the work at the Picasso museum in Barcelona.)  

Sarah also spent a good chunk of the weekend showing us all over the city -- we saw the bullfighting ring, went to see the Temple of Debod (an Egyptian temple rebuilt in Madrid).  The temple grounds boasted an awesome view of the city, as well as a great fountain to dip one's toes in and cool off during a hot afternoon.  We also partook in vino tintos (and for Mom, a Dr. Pepper!) on a rooftop bar.  Plus, we ventured into a huge and bustling Sunday market -- where I finally caved and purchased these pants that are strangely popular all over Europe.  (Charlie calls them my 'MCHammer pants.'  The purchase was meant to be ironic/grounded in 90's nostalgia -- but it turns out the pants are actually really comfortable.)

Monday we toured the Royal Palace - which is still the official residence of the Spanish Royal Family (although it is really only used for state ceremonies).  The palace was incredible - one room was done up in floor-to-ceiling with ornate, porcelain decor.  Another room was converted into a 1920s-esque wooden billiards space (and in doing so they just, you know - covered an old fresco with wood paneling to make sure the room fit the theme.  Because, who needs that classical, beautiful fresco when you have a dozen others scattered throughout the public half of your city-home?)

Then we went into the Almudena Cathedral.  (Sidenote -- from personal experience and through conversations with friends - I've discovered the "Although it's ridiculous when you say it aloud -- after a while all the cathedrals start looking alike"  seems to be a quiet, but universally shared, experience. And this sentiment was pretty much my take on cathedrals by this juncture of the trip.)

But alas, the Almudena Cathedral had pleasant surprises tucked away everywhere.  The cathedral wasn't finished until 1994 -- and thus the interior is uniquely modern.  Touring this cathedral was an "a-ha!" moment of sorts, as I found myself reflecting on how much I'd under-appreciated all the previous cathedrals I'd seen that were decorated in the more traditional gothic and neo-classical styles.  I was drawn to this cathedral (same went with the Sagrada Familia), which was decorated in a more contemporary style.  (This led me to deeper reflections on how the practices and structures of faith morph across time and culture to be more palpable and approachable, but let's save that for a rainy day.)

{be still, my beating heart.}

Anyway. The Royal Palace and Almudena Cathedral, each in their own majesty, were just a small taste of the greatness of the day.  We spent that afternoon at The Reina Sofia. Again, I had a complete lack of expectations for the museum (my limited knowledge was that it housed Picasso's Guernica), and thus my experience superseded everything I had anticipated.  The best part was in approaching the museum -- and discovering that the museum was hosting a special Dalí exhibit.  (Ellie: say helllllo to that feeling you get on Christmas morning!)

If you ever go to Spain, carve out a solid half-day for the Reina Sofia, and at least thirty minutes to take in Guernica.  What was most interesting for me was the juxtaposition of the hugeness of Guernica with the smallness of The Persistence of Memory, a painting I've been waiting my whole life to see. Words are lacking to capture everything I absorbed in that museum (kind of the point of art, huh?).  And so, as the Reina Sofia was the last stop of our trip - I will simply wind down this post with Barb and Ellie's finds from the Dalí exhibit:

a) 

 The lobster telephone, which my Mom (who spent a portion of her childhood in Maine) loved.

b)  This, tripped-out but awesome, collaboration between Dalí and Disney.

And so ended the trip of a lifetime.  Thanks to my partner (in crime?!), brother, grandparents, cousins, fellow-friend travelers, aunt and uncle, Barb,  Thomas,  and countless others who made it possible.  And thanks most of all to my mom, a world traveler, endurer of endless flights, navigator of narrow and bustling streets, and co-reveler in the simple beauty of all-things-new. 

Southern Spain Redux: From 2 countries to 3.5!

So, we've been home for like, two full weeks! I am going through a smidge of Euro-withdrawal and thus have been holding off on the final two blog posts so I don't sound TOO over-the-top in all of my travel gushing. But here is the (penultimate) travel post:

Post-Barcelona, Mom and I hopped on another plane and headed back down to Southern Spain.  My cousin Donna, her husband Sebastian, and their two kiddos live in Rota, Spain.  The spark for the trip (ultimately the highlight of our travels) was the chance spend to a few days visiting with them and to explore the surrounding cities/(countries).

Upon arrival, we had a low-key day which was a blend of rest, touring a Spanish bodega (we were in the sherry ‘triangle’ of the world after all), and visiting with the Stachowicz family.

Then! We decided to take the plunge and spend a day trip in Tangier.  I was on the fence about this, as I was worried just a day wouldn't do Morocco justice. While I still wish we'd had another week and could have made it to Fez and Marrakesh -- Tangier was a definite highlight.  We rode camels, went to the Cave of Hercules, strolled through the Kashbah, and explored the vibrant, crowded markets.

We spent another day exploring Cadiz.  Cadiz was another city that really surprised me with how much there was to see.  A small beach town, the city’s greatest claim is that it is the oldest city in Europe.  The city definitely boasts a ton of archeological and historic sites.  We spent a good chunk of our time in the Cathedral.  One of the most interesting aspects of the visit was that we were two of only a handful of tourists walking around.  The Cathedral might have been empty due to the visible disrepair and neglect, but Mom and I still enjoyed getting to take in the beauty of the architecture.  The crypt was particularly interesting -- it was the biggest we saw and felt very much... like a crypt. I couldn’t help but feel shivers run up my spine as we ambled up out of the stairwell after spending a few minutes exploring the space.  After that, Mom and I enjoyed a coastal stroll and ended our day playing a hand of cards and enjoying a vino tinto
in Park Genoves.

Finally, we spent a day (with Donna and Chris!) in Gibraltar.  We went up to the rock and saw the monkeys, which Mom really enjoyed.  I thought it was awesome to wander through the military tunnels and read about the various military engagements and strategic ways in which the tunnels were dug and used.  We wrapped up the day at the very lovely botanical gardens – which had one of the coolest playgrounds I’ve stumbled upon in years.

Friday we trekked out to the beach near Donna's house and then boarded our train back to Madrid, thus ending the jaunt through Andalusia.

And now for a brief ramble, yet again – on how the who trumps the where.  I’ll wind down this post by reaffirming how wonderful it was to visit with Donna and Seb, and their kiddos Jill and Chris.  With the lack of an older sibling, I've always looked up to my older cousins. Donna (and her husband, Seb) are kind of the archetype for awesome older cousins.  They’re brilliant and successful, dedicated parents, and really fun, well-traveled and interesting people to hang out with.  Most of all, they’re people who live out what it means to serve – as they’ve both been deployed overseas (Donna in Iraq, Seb in Afghanistan) and Sebastian is still active-duty in the Navy.

We whittled away the evening hours drinking good beer, eating good food (Seb introduced me to this fried bacon goodness-majig), hearing about one another’s travels, swapping family stories and talking about current issues in health and politics (without yelling, angst or blood-pressure inducement, even!).  We also closed off one night with an few rounds of Cards Against Humanity!

The time in Rota was a wonderful respite from hotels, museums and over-stimulation in general.  It was a time for patio-sitting and lingering over meals, crawling on hands and knees to chase after Chris or stealing away for a bedtime story with Jill.  It was a joy to get to experience a bit of Donna and Seb’s daily life when we so rarely get to see them, and to catch up on family stories that we’ve missed between the miles.

And on and on I could go.  I’ll end there – and will wrap up these posts with a final entry/general wrap-up including details from Madrid soon!

Barcelona: Gaudí galore

After a quick tour of Andalusia, Mom and I spent four-ish days in Barcelona. Barcelona was another city I'd initially left off the itinerary, just for praticality's sake (as its in Northeast Spain and we were focusing our time in the South).  However, my cousin Donna sent me info on cheap flights and spoke highly of the architecture and sights the city had to offer.  After this recommendation and discovering Mom and I would get to rendezvous with two of my close friends due to trip overlap, Mom and I were sold. 

Barcelona, a city of 1.6 million with 5mil in the greater city area, offered endless sights of incredible architecture, well-manicured plazas and narrow, maze-like streets that open up to ornate cathedrals and historic buildings.  Mom and I wanted to take it easy, so we focused our sights to exploring all the Gaudí buildings, perusing the Picasso museum and spent the last night strolling along the (packed!) beach.

Our favorite places were all Gaudí-related. Antonio Gaudí is a reknown architect, famous for his standout contributions as part of the Catalan Modernista movement.  We read a plaque about Gaudí in the Casa Mila which informed us that early on in his education (around the age of ~18) an instructor said he was "either insane or a genius."  His work has proven that he was surely the latter.  

What is most remarkable is how he studied every detail of his creations, and integrated other fields in which he was an expert craftsman (ceramics, stained glass, wrought iron forging, and carpentry) into his plans.*  He even created furniture pieces to blend into the homes he constructed.  (And in the infamous Park Guell he designed a public bench that is not only visually captivating-- with its wavy, colorful, tiled design -- but that is really comfortable!  History emphasizes how Gaudí also studied the human form and incorporated human use and interaction with his structures into his work.)

His approach to architecture is clearly multifaceted, but I think Mom and I were both drawn to the inspiration he derived from nature.  As a family big on hiking and camping (plus Mom's huge love for animals), we couldn't help but marvel at the forest-like columns in the Sagrada Familia or the seashell-like  spin of certain walls and facades at the Casa Mila.  Also, the 'tunnel' or 'cave-like' section of Park Guell felt like something out of Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are.  (As referenced here twice now, Spain seems to have clearly resonated with some deeper childlike frame of reference for me, at least when it comes to the unique architecture.)

Lastly, I would be remiss not to speak to the two greatest highlights of our time there:

Barcelona-wise, the Sagrada Familia was the most amazing building I think we've seen this trip.  Part of the wonder of this cathedral is wrapped up in story of the never-ending construction of the church -- our group kept commenting on and feeling flabbergasted about how, with modern technology, they can't make a big push and get 'er done (soonish?).  But additionallly, the evolution and variation of arcitecture over the years, and the uniqueness of Gaudi's vision, really left an impression in a way that other cathedrals lacked.

And then secondly, while way more low-key and not very specific to Barcelona, Mom and I had the chance to spend two days visiting with my friends, Marian and Forrest.  Marian and Forrest live in South Africa, so it was a rare treat to explore a really cool city with faraway friends.  While I loved all the hustle-bustle and energy of Barcelona, I will have an equally powerful remembrance of the city that is attached to the patio-sitting and lingering at restaurants, catching up on travels and all the details of life that we've missed between emails and gchat.  There's something about getting to squeeze the neck of one of my closest friends and lallygag around on holiday together that rivals, and even trumps, architectural wonders.

Enough sentimental gushing -- after Barcelona we were back in Southern Spain with family. So I'll save some of my rambling about the theme of how the 'who' of traveling often trumps the 'where', and write more about that and other adventures in a day or two.  Hasta pronto!

**

{pictures, from top-left & clockwise: ceiling of Sagrada familia; columns of Sagrada Familia, Casa Batlló; visiting with Marian!}

*via the wikipedia

** Sorry photos are lackluster - only able to upload IPhone photos right now

Andalucía: una fusión de todas cosas maravillosas

Since my last post, Mom and I have been busy taking Spain by storm (or more like -- Spain has taken us by storm?).  ? Anyway!  The main motive for the entire trip was a chance to visit my wonderful cousin and her family in Rota, Spain. Since it's impossible to trek through all of Spain in three weeks (although Lord knows, this far into our travels and I feel like Mom and I are pros/might-could have pulled it off) -- Mom and I decided to base our peripatetic-selves in Andalusia (Southern Spain).

Here are the cliff notes/main themes I've taken away from Southern Spain: resplendent Moorish architecture (which was likely seized during the Reconquista and buried beneath (mostly) gaudy Christian icons and the like), sangria (!) and jamón ibérico (ham made from black-hooved pigs that are fed acorns their whole lives), verdant patios and quaint European alleyways and streets to explore.  Although these things are overarching, here are the city-specific highlights from our quick jaunt through the region:

Córdoba

Here we toured the Mezquita (a former Mosque-turned-cathedral).  The cathedral is considered one of the most accomplished examples of Renaissance AND Moorish architecture. (Overachieve much, Mezquita?!) The arcaded hall, which you first encounter when you enter the cathedral, is made from from pieces of the Roman temple which previously occupied the space (and is comprised of jasper, granite, onyx, and marble).* The arches are huge and seem never-ending.  I found it akin to something I envisioned/imagined after reading Dr. Seuss books as a child.  But beyond the huge and imaginative aspect of it, there's a fascinating, added layer of seeing how the mezquita functions as a current church - while continuing to have a blend of Islamic and Christian touches throughout the building.

Mom and I also toured the Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos.  (Alcázar is the Arabic word for 'palace'.) As per Andalusian tradition, this incredible Islamic fortress-palace was converted post-reconquista into the palace for the infamous Christian monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella.  The grounds were marvelous -- gardens beyond anything else I've ever seen. (Given, this is my legit first trip to Europe. And they were beat the next day by gardens in Granada, but I digress...)

Then, we rounded off our day with a fantastic meal (at a restaurant with live flamenco dancing) and attendance at the equestrian espectacular.  (horse fancy dancy!)

Córdoba gave us a bonus: we stumbled across an AWESOME rock-choir group in a square on our way home, which sang the likes of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' and 'Hey Jude' with much gusto and acapella talent to a full, lively Cordoban crowd.

Granada

Then we were off to Granada!  The bulk of our time in Granada was spent touring the Alhambra, an incredible former Moorish-palace complex.  We toured the Nasrid Palaces at night, and roamed through the Generalife (MORE beautiful gardens, with waterways and fountains running throughout) and the fortress complex the next day.  We also did a bit of wandering through the city, which included a tour of another stunning cathedral.

My favorite part of the Alhambra was the Courtyard of the Lions.  This beautiful courtyard featured a unique fountain which had twelve lions at its base.  The fountain, thought to be a gift from a Jewish leader at the time, was given to honor the peacefulrelations  between the Nasrid leaders and Jewish community of the time.  During the fountain's initial operation, the fountain would indicate the time as each lion would spout water in conjunction with the current hour of the day. (How cool is that?!)

Sevilla

Our first week of adventuring through Andalusia ended in Sevilla, a city almost twice as large as Córdoba or Granada.  In Sevilla we toured the Plaza de España, the Cathedral (which contains the tomb of Christopher Columbus, as well as lot of other important bishops, community leaders, and the like) and the Real Alcázar of Sevilla. I'm running out of grandiose adjectives so I won't go on and on, but Sevilla was just as much of a gem (if not more, as the larger city afforded us slightly more to see) as Granada and Cordoba.  Smaller highlights included things like eating at an amazing restaurant in a former Turkish bathouse, and slowly meandering our way home through the streets at night. (Mom particularly enjoyed a bagpipe player we managed to find both nights -- not quite Spanish music, but still lovely!)

Since touring through these towns, we jet-set/had a brief Catalonian interlude to explore Barcelona.  And currently we're back in the South, visiting aforementioned awesome cousin and family in Rota.  So more to come on these things very soon!  Hasta luego!

*Source: the wikipedia.

{pictures, clockwise -- horse fancy-dancy in Cordoba; random view after coming around a street corner, Cordoba; Nasrid palaces at the Alhambra, Granda; Giralda tower, Seville}

Crete: The land of a/(21!) million olive trees

Crete video journal!:  http://youtu.be/An0_D2954BI

When planning this trip - Mom and I spent a lot of time debating the itinerary.  Athens and Santorini were a given, as we've both always wanted to come to Greece, and seeing Santorini was top on our list after we heard of its wonders from a relative.

But, once I realized we'd have a bit more time to explore - I wavered on where we should make our last stop. (Rhodes? Mykonos?)  Then a family friend recommended Crete out of personal travel experience, and a few days later my good friend, Nino, helped reinforce that thought when she told me it was the Greek island she most wanted to visit since it had everything -- mountains, beaches, and incredible history to uncover.

I'm grateful for the tip because Crete was fabulous.  It's been my favorite stopping point thus far! 

Our first day on the island we headed to Matala - a beach on the Southern Coast of the island (Libyan Sea), the legendary stop where Zeus first took Europe after seducing her. In the sixties Matala became a hippie haven, as the community took up residence in the stunning caves that are the backdrop to the beautiful, azure waters.  In addition to serving as a hippie abode, the caves were used as tombs during the first and second centuries.

Our visit to the beach included an exploration of the caves and observation of the remnants of the beach's history ('live for today' and similar maxims are strewn across various taverna and wall facades). We took the scenic route home and wound our way back to our villa, stopping to let sheep and goats cross the rural backroads and relishing the breathtaking views of mountains, valleys, and olive groves.

The second day we visited the Western City of Chania, where we spent most of our time in the Old City and Venetian harbor. We polished off our day with a hike near our Villa - and ended up at a beautiful hillside overview, highlighting the stunning presence of a simple, abandoned church.

Monday we toured Knossos, the ancient palace and surrounding city that was the center of Minoan society around 1800 BC.  As previously mentioned, friends nudged me toward a visit to Crete, but the tipping point for me was the realization that it would afford Mom and I the chance to visit the ancient palace ruins.  

As the stuff of (the greatest) legends, I remember as an elementary school child being particularly drawn to the story of Knossos and the Minotaur. -- Cliffnotes version: Pasiphae, King Minos' wife, fell in love with the white bull that Minos was given by Poseidon.  As a result of her affair, Pasiphae gave birth to the Minotaur.  King Minos built a labryinth below his palace to house the beast.  In order to avenge the loss of his son, Minos forced the Athenians to send seven young women and seven young men to be sacrificed to the Minotaur every seven years.  However, the third time the sacrifice was made, Theseus bested the Minotaur by using string to trace his way through the labryinth, aided by Minos' daughter, Adriadne.)

While my (joking--but secretly kind of real) hopes of seeing the labyrinth or the ghost of a Minotaur never materialized, our tour of the palace was fantastic.  We learned more about the ever-evolving history of this storied site.  A Brit, Arthur Evans, excavated and partially "restored" the site in the twentieth century.  While his intentions were laudable (he left the rights and discoveries of the site to the people of Crete, a rare act of its time), his attempted restoration was often based on his faulty perceptions of the ruins and findings of his excavations.  The restoration was pretty horrific in archeological terms, as it incurred lasting damage to some of the ruins.  However, although they're problematic, Mom and I both found the restorative efforts (construction of columns, fresco recreations, etc) helpful in getting a clearer sense of how the palace and surrounding city was laid out (in comparison to the Acropolis or Akrotiri).

Anyway, that made for a fascinating and enjoyable day.  Finally, yesterday we rounded off our time in Crete with another beach stop in the small harborof Agios Nikolaos. It was a lovely, relaxing way to spend our last afternoon in Greece.

All in all, our time here has been wonderful!  Crete has stolen a place in my heart.  Mom spent the whole week chuckling at my outburts of awe and excitement about the island's beauty.  I really hope to come back to unturn more island stones (like hiking the Samaria gorge, something we decided to pass on to maintain energy/stamina), in the future!

But, always onward! Hasta luego, Grecia -- buenos dias, Espana!

{pictures clockwise: Mom at top of the hillside hike, Villa Kerasia- our amazing lodging for most of our stay, the lighthouse in the Chania harbor, the beach at Matala}

An update from the (former) cliff-dwellers.

Santorini video journals:

Day 5: http://youtu.be/MW_fPHL5nEc

Day 6: http://youtu.be/nOQX91ftwvY

Day 7: http://youtu.be/5ZzOwGvH19o

After gallivanting around Athens, Mom and I boarded a ferry and spent four and a half days in Santorini.

Our room was on the cliffs of Fira, the island's capital - and our view was incredible!  Mom loved spending a bit of each afternoon sitting on the balcony watching the cable car zip up and down the cliffs, while the donkeys made the long, arduous trek up the switchbacks - often hefting a sun-leathered tourist.

We had two beach days on the island, saw ruins at Akrotiri, and went on two organized tours to explore sites nearby (including a volcano, hot springs, and smaller villages).

The best part of the stay was "all of it!" (says Barb Hahn).

Really, everything has gone incredibly smoothly, and our time in Greece has been a great blend of R&R and going/doing/exploring.

Now we're in Crete, and the adventure continues!  More soon!

Stare-down in the sacred tree

Yia sas!  Mom and I spent our second day in Athens exploring The Acropolis, The Acropolis Museum, and walking through the National Gardens.

While it was fascinating to see the Parthenon up close and personal, Mom and I both really enjoyed  learning about The Erechtheion, a smaller temple located near the Parthenon.  Although both buildings were built to honor Athena (the Patron God of Athens) the Erechtheion was considered a particularly holy and significant site.

Greek legend claims that on the site where the Erechtheion was built, Poseidon plunged his trident into rock, producing a spring of water.  At the same site Athena planted a simple olive tree. The olive tree produced the fruit that became the staple of Greek agriculture, and judges declared Athena the winner.  To this day an olive tree is planted on the west wall of the building to honor the legendary competition and Athena's victory.

While we were drawn to the temple because of the unique architecture, Mom and I both walked away bemused by what we discovered when we passed by.  A cat was perched in Athena's sacred tree, and at the base a stray dog was vigilantly staring down the feline, taking in its every action.  I'm pretty sure the epic stare-down garnered as many pictures from tourists as the temple itself!

Mom and I wrapped up the day with a glass of wine on the rooftop of our hotel, taking in all of Athens.  What is most fascinating about the city is the blend of antiquity with modernity.  If you consider the recent turmoil and protests Greece has endured, it adds an even more interesting layer to the history of this ever-evolving city.

Mom and I spent the past four days in Santorini, but they have mostly consisted of beach-bumming, seafood consumption, and reveling in the beauty of the craggy island.  I'll write more on that tomorrow!
{Mom in the rooftop bar of our hotel}

*Note: picture of Erechtheion is via interwebs: https://www.google.com/search?q=erechtheion&client=safari&hl=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=0_umUeD9EOHt0gWb14HoDA&ved=0CAoQ_AUoAA&biw=768&bih=928&sei=2PumUfS1M5Go0wW2i4CQBw#biv=i%7C4%3Bd%7CuxnFB8SvbZ_WLM%3A

efharisto

*Note: for an abbreviated way to hear about our trip, watch: McBrooHahas gadabout: Barb and Ellie's Video Journal: http://youtu.be/V6iXadgjw9I

------

"What does efharisto mean?" Mom asked me twenty hours into our trek to Greece.

"Not sure, you'll have to ask someone" I said as I brushed off her question as a distant, and perhaps incomplete memory being drawn on.

The word, however, stuck with Mom.  Today she asked a (Greek!) friend and he told us it means 'thank you'.  He was impressed by Mom's memory, as I quietly meditated on how it's such an apt phrase to draw on.

After over thirty hours/four separate flights (what was three-months ago Ellie, thinking?!) Mom and I finally made it safely, soundly, and exhaustedly to our hotel in Athens.  Post-crashing and resting up, we spent the afternoon with our friend, Thomas, who made the trek from a town north of Athens to show us around.  We walked through Monastiraki Square, saw the changing of the guards at Syntagma Square at ate a delicious Greek lunch at a popular Athenian restaurant.  After saying goodbye to Thomas and catching a late-afternoon nap, we went up Mt. Lycabettus to see the sunset over Athens.  All in all, our first day of sightseeing has been an excellent blend of rest, venust, and fellowship.

And now for a broader reflection on our trip thus far: Mom is in constant awe of all things new and beautiful, and I am in constant awe of Mom.  I captured more of this sentiment in my journal tonight: "I love exploring and the independence of autonomous travel; combine this with Mom's patience, joyful spirit, and constant awe and excitement in all that is new around her, and I feel confident that this trip is going to be a defining moment of richness that we will carry throughout our lives."

With that in mind -- I am grateful for all who are supporting us with prayers and well-wishes, airport rides, and holding things down on the home front in our absence (and on and on I could go).

Signing off with a heartfelt 'efharisto' to all family and friends, all around the world.

{blurry IPad shot of the patio-view of the Acropolis that greeted us when we arrived to our hotel room early this AM}

hold.

always, always...

 {via}

and then I bought a pipe.

**disclaimer: don't read this clip if you haven't read all of East of Eden. Instead, pick up the book this Spring or Summer and read the whole thing. It's worth it -- I promise.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“Do you remember when you read us the sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis and we argued about them?”

“I do indeed. And that’s a long time ago.”

“Ten years nearly,” said Lee. “Well, the story bit deeply into me and I went into it word for word. The more I thought about the story, the more profound it became to me. Then I compared the translations we have—and they were fairly close. There was only one place that bothered me. The King James version says this—it is when Jehovah has asked Cain why he is angry. Jehovah says, ‘If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him.’ It was the ‘thou shalt’ that struck me, because it was a promise that Cain would conquer sin.”

Samuel nodded. “And his children didn’t do it entirely,” he said.

Lee sipped his coffee. “Then I got a copy of the American Standard Bible. It was very new then. And it was different in this passage. It says, ‘Do thou rule over him.’ Now this is very different. This is not a promise, it is an order. And I began to stew about it. I wondered what the original word of the original writer had been that these very different translations could be made.”

Samuel put his palms down on the table and leaned forward and the old young light came into his eyes. “Lee,” he said, “don’t tell me you studied Hebrew!”

Lee said, “I’m going to tell you. And it’s a fairly long story. Will you have a touch of ng-ka-py?”

“You mean the drink that tastes of good rotten apples?”

“Yes. I can talk better with it.”

“Maybe I can listen better,” said Samuel.

While Lee went to the kitchen Samuel asked, “Adam, did you know about this?”

“No,” said Adam. “He didn’t tell me. Maybe I wasn’t listening.”

Lee came back with his stone bottle and three little porcelain cups so thin and delicate that the light shone through them. “Dlinkee Chinee fashion,” he said and poured the almost black liquor. “There’s a lot of wormwood in this. It’s quite a drink,” he said. “Has about the same effect as absinthe if you drink enough of it.”

Samuel sipped the drink. “I want to know why you were so interested,” he said.

“Well, it seemed to me that the man who could conceive this great story would know exactly what he wanted to say and there would be no confusion in his statement.”

“You say ‘the man.’ Do you then not think this is a divine book written by the inky finger of God?”

“I think the mind that could think this story was a curiously divine mind. We have had a few such minds in China too.”

“I just wanted to know,” said Samuel. “You’re not a Presbyterian after all.”

“I told you I was getting more Chinese. Well, to go on, I went to San Francisco to the headquarters of our family association. Do you know about them? Our great families have centers where any member can get help or give it. The Lee family is very large. It takes care of its own.”

“I have heard of them,” said Samuel.

“You mean Chinee hatchet man fightee Tong war over slave girl?”

“I guess so.”

“It’s a little different from that, really,” said Lee. “I went there because in our family there are a number of ancient reverend gentlemen who are great scholars. They are thinkers in exactness. A man may spend many years pondering a sentence of the scholar you call Confucius. I thought there might be experts in meaning who could advise me.

“They are fine old men. They smoke their two pipes of opium in the afternoon and it rests and sharpens them, and they sit through the night and their minds are wonderful. I guess no other people have been able to use opium well.”

Lee dampened his tongue in the black brew. “I respectfully submitted my problem to one of these sages, read him the story, and told him what I understood from it. The next night four of them met and called me in. We discussed the story all night long.”

Lee laughed. “I guess it’s funny,” he said. “I know I wouldn’t dare tell it to many people. Can you imagine four old gentlemen, the youngest is over ninety now, taking on the study of Hebrew? They engaged a learned rabbi. They took to the study as though they were children. Exercise books, grammar, vocabulary, simple sentences. You should see Hebrew written in Chinese ink with a brush! The right to left didn’t bother them as much as it would you, since we write up to down. Oh, they were perfectionists! They went to the root of the matter.”

“And you?” said Samuel.

“I went along with them, marveling at the beauty of their proud clean brains. I began to love my race, and for the first time I wanted to be Chinese. Every two weeks I went to a meeting with them, and in my room here I covered pages with writing. I bought every known Hebrew dictionary. But the old gentlemen were always ahead of me. It wasn’t long before they were ahead of our rabbi; he brought a colleague in. Mr. Hamilton, you should have sat through some of those nights of argument and discussion. The questions, the inspection, oh, the lovely thinking—the beautiful thinking.

“After two years we felt that we could approach your sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis. My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too—‘Thou shalt’ and ‘Do thou.’ And this was the gold from our mining: ‘Thou mayest.’ ‘Thou mayest rule over sin.’ The old gentlemen smiled and nodded and felt the years were well spent. It brought them out of their Chinese shells too, and right now they are studying Greek.”

Samuel said, “It’s a fantastic story. And I’ve tried to follow and maybe I’ve missed somewhere. Why is this word so important?”

Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?”

“Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?”

“Ah!” said Lee. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But ‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.” Lee’s voice was a chant of triumph.

Adam said, “Do you believe that, Lee?”

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There’s no godliness there. And do you know, those old gentlemen who were sliding gently down to death are too interested to die now?”

Adam said, “Do you mean these Chinese men believe the Old Testament?”

Lee said, “These old men believe a true story, and they know a true story when they hear it. They are critics of truth. They know that these sixteen verses are a history of humankind in any age or culture or race. They do not believe a man writes fifteen and three-quarter verses of truth and tells a lie with one verb. Confucius tells men how they should live to have good and successful lives. But this—this is a ladder to climb to the stars.” Lee’s eyes shone. “You can never lose that. It cuts the feet from under weakness and cowardliness and laziness.”

Adam said, “I don’t see how you could cook and raise the boys and take care of me and still do all this.”

“Neither do I,” said Lee. “But I take my two pipes in the afternoon, no more and no less, like the elders. And I feel that I am a man. And I feel that a man is a very important thing—maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed— because ‘Thou mayest.’”

{via}

the things you think you thought you knew

fomo

Lately I have been mentally absorbed with the idea of balance.  In my attempts to counter busyness with intentionality and thoughtfulness, I’ve found myself playing wasted mind games.  I’m constantly questioning my decisions – each minuscule option calls into question my priorities, values and (ultimately) all-things-existential.

It’s absurd, and I want to blame FOMO.  I’m not sure how, or when, or why I started becoming absorbed with the fear of missing out.  I know it’s been a while, as I’ve headed out to countless social engagements, community meetings or service commitments with only a paltry, nebulous, constructed sense of obligation and fear of missing out on the event itself/as well as the possible enrichment/roundedness it can add to my life, as the driving force for my behavior.

I want to strip it away, and get back to brass tacks – assess meaning and values through personal reflection on the front end, as opposed to a back end assessment of ‘how did I spend my week?’ ‘how much meaning did I derive from (xyz) experience?’ as I drift off to sleep each night.  Of course, this whole desire to shift how I allocate time/process/find motivation for how I spend time is looping me back to the need for intentionality, which is driven on some level (currently, at least) by FOMO, which…

It’s a sick cycle, and clearly I can’t articulate it – but it’s real.  It pervades how I calculate the precious time I have to spend with mom, the time I steal away to spend with Charlie, the time I invest in new friendships and spend maintaining the old ones.  Another strange facet is how much FOMO is wrapped up in a culture of privilege and wealth.  In the sea of ‘emerging adulthood’ we (my generation) are constantly making choices based on potential for experience, happiness-maximization, and self.  Which loops me back to need for balance/stepping outside oneself…but which, in some weird, sub-cultural way, seems to loop me back to FOMO…

ack./end

Keep meaning. Keep, keep meaning.

To blog more.  Mostly because I feel like all the below-the-surface, big-picture life stuff has little room to surface amid all the logistical enormities and bureaucratic/academic hoops that consume most of my time.  When I sit down and blog quietly to myself and the ~four people I've shared this with at random, I'll find sometimes I draw on things I don't get to sit with otherwise.

I had a strange revelation around Thanksgiving, when skimming through previous posts.

I'm 99% certain when I wrote this post, that when I spoke of striving for 'the good I ought to do' I bracketed these ambitions into the quotidian things like speaking kindly to the panhandler,  taking time out of my hurriedness to buy someone a meal, writing a card of encouragement to a coworker who was down, or just being more in-tune to the general, broader needs of friends, family and surrounding community.

Strangely enough -- it morphed into something much, much larger.  I really had no thought of this in the context of moving home and shifting into a new role as a caregiver.  (Also -- I pondered a whole other level of the 'strangeness' of the post when I realized I'd written it on my Mom's birthday.)

Anyway, since this blog began as a calibration tool for New Year's resolutions - I've been thinking about this new year, and reflecting on last.  There's a lot to say about last year while transitioning into this one, and I'm not sure how to speak of it without being sentimental and mawkish.  But I know that I need to try.

Everything personal feels all-consuming, and my vocational efforts in school seem relegated to the 'kid-playing in the dirt in the outfield' kind of role/part of my life.  I'd like to blend them more, as I know there's something missing in the interchange between the two.  I'd also like to elevate my experience with care-giving  and Alzheimer's more, as I know there are others out there that are also trying to cope and feel equally lost and isolated.  So, that'll be my starter for a 2013 goal.  A few more are still solidifying....