tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45643375332838319142024-03-13T11:04:20.154-07:00Mary Clark, TravelerEssays On Traveling
by Mary Walker ClarkMary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.comBlogger178125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-43655219014283975282020-02-24T09:13:00.000-08:002020-02-24T09:13:30.868-08:00Stanley, Idaho and The Sawtooth Mountains<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sawtooth Mountains from Iron Creek Trail</td></tr>
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My cousin, Ron Walker, has lived in Boise, Idaho for 50
years, having migrated north after early life in Texas. He’s been there long enough to watch house
prices skyrocket from new residents looking for quality of life and
affordability of homes. His children
grew up with the great outdoors almost in their backyard and the family took
full advantage of the setting. It made sense to ask him his favorite place in Idaho for
our trip out West last summer. His
answer – the small town of Stanley in the Sawtooth Mountains. It was great advice.</div>
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When I write small town of Stanley, I mean small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 2010, the town sported 63 citizens, down
from 100 in 2000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a remnant from
early trapping days that just happens to be in a stunning location at the base
of the Sawtooth Mountains with the Salmon River flowing through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of its wooden buildings look straight
out of Hollywood’s Western sets with flat fronts and planked porch
entries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The few side roads off the main
highway are dirt and there are no street signs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Salmon River from our cabin</td></tr>
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Most of the classic log cabin lodging in the area is along
the Salmon River where we were most lucky to find one cabin for the one night
we had available.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It fronted the river allowing
us to wave at the rafters headed out for a day or a week. Across the river,
cows lazily feasted on the abundance of grass meadows and an occasional fisherman
threw in his line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fresh trout dinner on
the riverside porch of the restaurant next door sealed the mountain air
experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t want the day to
end as the descending sun illuminated nearby mountains in rust and white
against the darkening blue shadows.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley Baking Company</td></tr>
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The highly recommended Stanley Baking Company, found simply
by the numbers of cars parked around it, had a group of early risers the next
morning waiting on the front porch for the bakery to open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We chatted with a group of women who had just
finished a six-day run down the Salmon River.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was their 4<sup>th</sup> year they had crossed the country for the
experience, and they were already talking of next year’s run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I envied their obvious sense of
accomplishment. After breakfast, my
husband and I drove to the Iron Creek Trailhead to begin the “hike of a
lifetime” according to Ron. </div>
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The Sawtooth National Recreation Area and Sawtooth
Wilderness lay side by side with a long history of protection. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As with many areas in the West, we would be walking
on highly politicized paths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1968,
the proposal of the American Smelting and Refining Company to dig an open pit
mine for the extraction of molydenum (a chemical element used in steel alloys)
spurred<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Idaho Congressmen, including
Senator Frank Church, to have Congress create the Sawtooth National Recreation
Area in 1971.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>President Obama signed an
act expanding the wilderness area in 2015. The Sawtooth Wilderness is
characterized by high granite peaks, separated by narrow valleys, giving a
“sawtooth” look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fifty of the peaks are
over 10,000 feet with hundreds of high mountain lakes scattered throughout.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSsfeJK0PNrBUhUMPCptNwWWDUJvYp9tsOHNfaeC9NryDdzPc293yNpoCxi5aAs6QWDlVEQFZVDQdaQk7kmtADGJb40Dbj-ZXhv4RmfVqCnJQasAYvQBPvbcuspW9hlyAuAqfbNyXBek/s1600/IMG_3348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSsfeJK0PNrBUhUMPCptNwWWDUJvYp9tsOHNfaeC9NryDdzPc293yNpoCxi5aAs6QWDlVEQFZVDQdaQk7kmtADGJb40Dbj-ZXhv4RmfVqCnJQasAYvQBPvbcuspW9hlyAuAqfbNyXBek/s320/IMG_3348.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFTBinzP24Q0bebnAWo4MHWKMkaKm0GTJgA0gpOiLNYL7SWODt_vEV0YU1fvJ1fdxIKT0QFRJ57TIxRVUY6JnsIs8arbtFsCfQuyvtL8qA8TRJ3pcfD74ieo1VLo2C2xcFqe1ZxfpGiI/s1600/IMG_3352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFTBinzP24Q0bebnAWo4MHWKMkaKm0GTJgA0gpOiLNYL7SWODt_vEV0YU1fvJ1fdxIKT0QFRJ57TIxRVUY6JnsIs8arbtFsCfQuyvtL8qA8TRJ3pcfD74ieo1VLo2C2xcFqe1ZxfpGiI/s320/IMG_3352.JPG" width="240" /></a>After filling out our wilderness permit, we began the
relatively easy first three miles, passing from the Recreation area into the
Wilderness. We passed signs that prohibited bicycles and drones, a rather odd
combination. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite the July date, snow
remained on the mountain side and more appeared as we ascended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a sharp left turn, the path changed
dramatically as the elevation increased, taking us upwards toward our Alpine lake
destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Young hikers passed us, but
we had no reason to hurry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a view
at every turn, we found many excuses to stop, look, and listen.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At the sign for “Alpine Lake”, we veered off the main path that
then continued to Sawtooth Lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most
hikers, especially the younger ones, had the larger lake as their destination
but not us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hiking in your late 60’s is
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve learned there are many possible
turn-around points, depending on your stamina, the heat of the day, and how
your hip is feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This Alpine Lake
had the classic mountain lake ambiance – a quiet that seemed to amplify the
human voice, birds flying above, slight cool breeze, clean air, blue skies and big
boulders fronting the clear water. We rested near a couple of tents whose
occupants were apparently out exploring. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X6K009upVJ1NIgTW2YvMupQ7js06M4EpkDKjp_0sx2UtPqhEpdBUtRl8D1AOix1Ji73O5MWE-pTj_Dx8m36ttv_1tPFs-i8ukxCpp77QT8crSLow1wiKIib5guNB8h6uMvTT_FUe3xI/s1600/IMG_3359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X6K009upVJ1NIgTW2YvMupQ7js06M4EpkDKjp_0sx2UtPqhEpdBUtRl8D1AOix1Ji73O5MWE-pTj_Dx8m36ttv_1tPFs-i8ukxCpp77QT8crSLow1wiKIib5guNB8h6uMvTT_FUe3xI/s320/IMG_3359.JPG" width="240" /></a>After a snack of apples and nuts, we reluctantly turned
around as we were expected in Boise that afternoon and the hiking traffic was
picking up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s always a sense of
satisfaction descending from a strenuous hike, noting the heavy breathing of
the hikers ascending.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, the views are
different and often more beautiful on the way down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Checking my phone at the end of the trail
revealed a 9 mile hike, 20,325 steps and 32 floors of elevation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My orthopedic surgeon would be proud.</div>
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How Stanley has avoided the extreme development of nearby
Sun Valley, I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my cousin
was right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a jewel of a location
abounding in outdoor opportunities and beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is my hope that such a small community can continue to hold out against
any large-scale expansion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its beauty
deserves protection.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-70349715748414506852020-01-20T10:10:00.000-08:002020-01-20T12:19:51.114-08:00Tea in a Moroccan Berber Tent<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2tmblSVhjQ1Gks6F1qYeodc81U9BZhpOxTD6L00x8gN10RvkZKocxVeeiwjbz0F3E2agNFUVuKJ7xqBb4e5A0P4KIZlIE-GQ3vLkxBg8AMbj205hgIkhouI_0PJnKRviX0rmVEMz1uEU/s1600/IMG_2264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2tmblSVhjQ1Gks6F1qYeodc81U9BZhpOxTD6L00x8gN10RvkZKocxVeeiwjbz0F3E2agNFUVuKJ7xqBb4e5A0P4KIZlIE-GQ3vLkxBg8AMbj205hgIkhouI_0PJnKRviX0rmVEMz1uEU/s400/IMG_2264.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Clark, Tina Smith, Betty Swasko, and Mary Grace West with two Berber children inside tent</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Being asked
to tea in Northern Africa and the Middle East is a common practice, whether the
hosts know you or not.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When our driver
stopped by the side of the road in Jordan for me to get a photo of a nearby
shepherd, the herder smiled readily for the camera and asked if he could make
us some tea.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Since there were no nearby
houses, I had to assume he had the makings for the hot drink in his bag draped
over his shoulders.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Sadly, we were
behind schedule and could not join him.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I did have time for tea with a seller of jewelry in Jerusalem, my
cousin’s neighbor in Tunisia, storekeepers in Egypt, and after a massage in
Chefchouen, Morocco. But one of the most memorable tea times was with a Nomadic
Berber family on the edge of the Sahara Desert in Morocco.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Berbers are
the proud indigenous people of Morocco and date back to 2500 B.C. They’ve lived
through the Egyptians, Romans, French and Arabs who brought Islam to the area. Approximately
60% of the population of Morocco, including their long ruling King Mohammed VI,
are at least part Berber. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, the
Berbers are divided into three main sects, each with its own dialect. Until the
1980’s the Berber language was not allowed in school but that has changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many traditional Berbers live in the valleys
and mountains and are farmers or herders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But there remains some who live near or in the desert and who will move
with their herds during the changing seasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A few still go by caravan deep into the Sahara for trade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85YdUuCfJxDWD1PEk13Ui1pMhph_LsaO1wsmRS1qW5_1zzxIAtIspxTQG3PMdIm0FBZ5r1mBd0J53uW7V5iJsxxfLDQwpXTboIAhSn7yntHUR651NbCiVVFlskTIIFWfhND9SukaEDmI/s1600/IMG_2257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg85YdUuCfJxDWD1PEk13Ui1pMhph_LsaO1wsmRS1qW5_1zzxIAtIspxTQG3PMdIm0FBZ5r1mBd0J53uW7V5iJsxxfLDQwpXTboIAhSn7yntHUR651NbCiVVFlskTIIFWfhND9SukaEDmI/s320/IMG_2257.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWw80CViR0oinOlhh6EqjO11a3JGZZ2Qq_M34tC_sRQ26FLGqXHtfRbPlIhfpeLVWhQJJs-73QIl9ApPEEJ2dszcA0RQ8UEjoySH-LHFNc5fva91ecSwQ9OBAmZmDNWezgeC0aL7dvG4/s1600/IMG_2267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWw80CViR0oinOlhh6EqjO11a3JGZZ2Qq_M34tC_sRQ26FLGqXHtfRbPlIhfpeLVWhQJJs-73QIl9ApPEEJ2dszcA0RQ8UEjoySH-LHFNc5fva91ecSwQ9OBAmZmDNWezgeC0aL7dvG4/s200/IMG_2267.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Our driver
had encouraged us to take tea with a Berber family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drove through the strong, sandy desert
wind to an area near dunes with scattered traditional tents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heavy, black woven textiles made by the
Berber women from goat’s wool, formed the walls and covers of the tents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A flap
could be tied back to allow entrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
of the tents already had a van in front of it, indicating other tourists were
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Houssain </span>parked our van in front
of an area with three tents huddled together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We got out and simply waited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our driver and guide, Houssain Ait Mhamed<br />
with two Berber children</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Two children
popped out and stared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made a common
traveler’s mistake by immediately pulling my phone out to take some
pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The children turned away and
tried to hide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell by the look
of our guide that I had committed a faux pas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He approached them slowly, smiling, chatting, charming them as he pulled
out some candy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They happily responded
and were then willing to pose with him for a photo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon their mother ducked out of a back tent
and indicated we should enter the largest tent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was, obviously, accustomed to visitors dropping in.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9bnqvvBZ8BavkhJxvDU4KjrFSLD7BYASj5AEmmbSCR5ZknqL45qWBkaijZlk9asNnwHjjfCjUJWlXfLr3NF0B8isVN5Edva-fyawnQbyOs6BVBp8XOjAUUzeRP-vcbjKCRgszWsz63I/s1600/IMG_2263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9bnqvvBZ8BavkhJxvDU4KjrFSLD7BYASj5AEmmbSCR5ZknqL45qWBkaijZlk9asNnwHjjfCjUJWlXfLr3NF0B8isVN5Edva-fyawnQbyOs6BVBp8XOjAUUzeRP-vcbjKCRgszWsz63I/s200/IMG_2263.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Inside the
tent, beautiful hand-woven rugs covered the sand. The bedding from the night
before had been rolled up and formed a soft bank for us to sit against at the
edge of the tent. A small covered table awaited the tea to be served.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reds dominated the fabric.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The children
had become downright friendly and wanted to play with our phones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few pictures, we let them look at the
photos, but they knew their way around and quickly found games to play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After some time, the mother entered the tent
with a tray of Moroccan tea and sweets, both very sugary to give energy to the
family and visitors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although asked to
stay, she declined and left us with the food and children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Houssain </span>explained that the Berber women, by
tradition, would never stay in a room where there was a man that was not part
of the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men of the family were absent as they had
taken their sheep and camels to find water and grass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhEeqGwqpj84u34QBX9srVcA-fyAu5aCua3MFfbU_L7u378qDIknTKLXwHMowAlxaZkKE1QQ4dUxMsdIK2i5564dy39ziP5xFfRati2c0SiyX_fF__J898gZArtowLgmMtlbQ3zHmN9g/s1600/IMG_2270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhEeqGwqpj84u34QBX9srVcA-fyAu5aCua3MFfbU_L7u378qDIknTKLXwHMowAlxaZkKE1QQ4dUxMsdIK2i5564dy39ziP5xFfRati2c0SiyX_fF__J898gZArtowLgmMtlbQ3zHmN9g/s200/IMG_2270.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As we drank
our tea and sampled the sweets, I listened to the strong wind outside and could
see the dust swirling around through the open flap. It would be a familiar
sound to the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to the
sturdy woven walls, the air inside remained clear enough that I had no need for
my asthma inhaler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We asked Houssain how much Moroccan dirham we should leave for the experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His response was however much we wanted
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We asked what was normal or
standard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His response was that it was
up to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t remember what we left
but we hoped it would be perceived as generous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The children were sad to give up our phones but smiled and waved as we
left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their mother hurried them inside
as they awaited the next car to arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The desert people have always been welcoming of strangers but today it
is the strangers who help support the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was our pleasure to do so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
<br />
Mary Walker Clark is a retired attorney turned travel
writer. Her stories may be found at her blog, Mary Clark, Traveler and her
podcasts at KETR, 88.9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She <i>lives in
Paris and may be contacted at <span class="Hypertext">maryclarktraveler@gmail.com</span></i><br />
<br /></div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-35385991652347845602019-12-15T17:24:00.002-08:002019-12-15T17:24:50.871-08:00Yoga in the Wild Brings Unexpected Discoveries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="300" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/work.picaboo.com/b/c/a/4/bca4c7b2665d4c5891e84c092328d7b3/5/4/f/h_54f5e34e632c91ffb6c22fb5eab5fce5.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAIW3HF6L3MIEBAR5A&Expires=1578960000&Signature=qqQFMmVp5nVypqeCcD1qImyFeL8%3D" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left - Melissa Hagedon, Mary Clark, Ed Clark, Pat Ellison and Tom Ellison</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Most
travelers incorporate special interests into their trips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some even make it the focus of the
vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Golfers check off prestigious courses.
New York City visitors come for the Broadway Shows. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For history buffs, Civil War battlegrounds
attract a large following. I have an older friend who will go out of the way to
see bridges that he’s interested in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And one of my regular traveling buddies always
insists on massages regardless of the country, which experiences deserve its own
column.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m a yoga
aficionado and seek out notices on coffee shop bulletin boards for local yoga
workouts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Cancun for a family
destination wedding, I joined early risers at a beach kiosk to greet the sun
with yoga morning salutations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
leader was an energetic young man who added jumps from floor to standing for
many of the positions, a choice I soon avoided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I enjoyed seeing the upside-down beach and ocean from a downward dog
position after being sure no other participant was behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve shown
off my warrior stance in a yurt in New Mexico, the large common space on an
Emirates Airbus A380 to Dubai, and the Siddahayatan Retreat in Windom, Texas. But
my favorite yoga experience was “Yoga in the Wild” offered by “Get In the Wild”
tours near Arches and Capitol Reef Nationals Parks in Utah. It included much
than yoga.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The tour
popped up in my search for interesting outings in northern Utah. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Photos of a side plank (with one arm
supporting the body and the other arm in the air) at the edge of a cliff with a
beautiful view was enticing to me but not my height averse husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a phone conference with the owners, we
were assured the yoga locations could be adjusted according to the participants’
“comfort level”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxaTdsobqgj8lsV_49rAD7uCUrYml-VszNSffYH09fnDhl4iVIUgAwfbWNNcP0Cembv_EQZMJOeLGFmk2xZtdE-_ahFWtdspx4UGlepOnarjmgqZuB4219JGTzEV0aQkb89S3wxVBA2E/s1600/IMG_0718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxaTdsobqgj8lsV_49rAD7uCUrYml-VszNSffYH09fnDhl4iVIUgAwfbWNNcP0Cembv_EQZMJOeLGFmk2xZtdE-_ahFWtdspx4UGlepOnarjmgqZuB4219JGTzEV0aQkb89S3wxVBA2E/s200/IMG_0718.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christopher Hagedon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6c0_SlSGVk4AZl2xYpmEtKI0iGwEz8MbR0qqp8bK2ZJdDwV8aywhnbxD_kzGuhBWanvLgGUt3-P54MG4HuO1LpWFGkc7gQQuj3TyKtpeLvMHpYF27I0ihue4hxhi-DNF7axLvePl9iA/s1600/IMG_0723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6c0_SlSGVk4AZl2xYpmEtKI0iGwEz8MbR0qqp8bK2ZJdDwV8aywhnbxD_kzGuhBWanvLgGUt3-P54MG4HuO1LpWFGkc7gQQuj3TyKtpeLvMHpYF27I0ihue4hxhi-DNF7axLvePl9iA/s200/IMG_0723.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melissa Hagedon</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At
mid-morning on a cloudy October day, we met Christopher and Melissa Hagedon, a
perfectly suited adventure tour couple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Christopher knows his geology and Melissa her botany.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were in the </span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">San Rafael Swell that is managed by the
Bureau of Land management (BLM) and was designated a Federal Wilderness in
March 2019. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Registered guides are
required </span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">to seek spaces
where it is unlikely to encounter another tour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was especially appealing after the crowds at Arches and Canyonland
National Parks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWGsMGQXjkKoiQw2jlh_09OWe0mV_BLbsTqWkoQL6TYLItr7g2L4Jr0mpmE0hd1955RbC769bPIudvQc8gzk9O7EZmbaiefAeOncYpU7O0o66vEvOI0rs8o4R1eLvC0cjmAJ06It_1a_4/s1600/IMG_0731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWGsMGQXjkKoiQw2jlh_09OWe0mV_BLbsTqWkoQL6TYLItr7g2L4Jr0mpmE0hd1955RbC769bPIudvQc8gzk9O7EZmbaiefAeOncYpU7O0o66vEvOI0rs8o4R1eLvC0cjmAJ06It_1a_4/s200/IMG_0731.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Before we
could throw out our yoga mats, Christopher and Melissa had something to show
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hiked the rocky hill in front of us,
without benefit of a trail - over large boulders, down sandy embankments, quickly
moving through a marsh area that had a quicksand suction in the middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The week before a boy scout on the tour got
stuck in the sand, requiring the use of a rope to pull him out. All I could
think of was the old Tarzan movies when a character slowly disappeared as the
quicksand sucked him downward to the horror of the TV viewers, including me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1txk9wF2QcwkwRS8JJQFIB9nykcWaZnNHdClZTMsE5EayZ1dMPjdzYtsTLxdJh3loi3eF3Hwsww9g5wUoE2kV214xwkAeR2ZDNkcVtgbVoJcrXrjOlsFay9wj5fTV0yM9QXgqMrqHog/s1600/IMG_0736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1txk9wF2QcwkwRS8JJQFIB9nykcWaZnNHdClZTMsE5EayZ1dMPjdzYtsTLxdJh3loi3eF3Hwsww9g5wUoE2kV214xwkAeR2ZDNkcVtgbVoJcrXrjOlsFay9wj5fTV0yM9QXgqMrqHog/s320/IMG_0736.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUVaVVoE6fuJeMwQ9Je2Cr5DEmCXw6wX8OtDoxc5NcRE07IQ-5Zj92N4lXtSooPIIryHEzF-K-aTYJT4Bem7A5c7pAAuC-YiY-TrBArs7yJT9zdU3Xj2Va08uvup4WSfbZWRnFHCdLgM/s1600/IMG_0756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUVaVVoE6fuJeMwQ9Je2Cr5DEmCXw6wX8OtDoxc5NcRE07IQ-5Zj92N4lXtSooPIIryHEzF-K-aTYJT4Bem7A5c7pAAuC-YiY-TrBArs7yJT9zdU3Xj2Va08uvup4WSfbZWRnFHCdLgM/s320/IMG_0756.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Our
destinations were two caves, a large and a small one, with wide open-air
openings. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Native Americans had long
discovered both. Their 700 to 4000 year- old pictographs of elongated stick
figures and animal outlines adorned both caves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One cave had an ocular opening, meaning a round break through the stone
to the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like an eye into the
universe above.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christopher assured us
we were one of very few hikers to ever see these paintings as they are not on a
map and access to the land is limited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He discovered the caves without help and had never seen other hikers in
the area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understood why native
Americans spent time in the caves – isolated, safe, comfortable, nearby water
source. We had lunch with their spirits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><img height="480" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/work.picaboo.com/b/c/a/4/bca4c7b2665d4c5891e84c092328d7b3/e/7/5/h_e75ab04cf4384e8a38db7b2323bdf5bb.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAIW3HF6L3MIEBAR5A&Expires=1578960000&Signature=H0GGXr5kn3EjJQ17UalnHtcZhXs%3D" width="640" />Coming out
on an outcropping of rock, Melissa announced it was time for yoga.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite the hard and uneven surface, the view
across Robbers Roost, a hideout destination for criminals on horseback, was wide
and deep. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the distance, the snow-covered
Henry Mountains held their own secrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Above,
clouds moved with the wind as cliff swallows rode the currents. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The workout
was not intense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Melissa may have
worried about our stamina and balance, especially on the rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it was enough that the time spent at the
end in the dead man’s pose was deeply relaxing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My mind tried to return to all that I needed to do back home, but a
bird sound or br</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">eeze brought me back to the present moment.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Yoga was made for those moments.</span></div>
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Mary Walker Clark is a retired attorney turned travel
writer. Her stories may be found at her blog, Mary Clark, Traveler and her
podcasts at KETR, 88.9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She <i>lives in
Paris and may be contacted at <span class="Hypertext">maryclarktraveler@gmail.com.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://www.getinthewild.com/">"Get in the Wild" site</a></span></i></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-89882223155549623002019-11-25T08:12:00.000-08:002019-11-25T08:12:33.727-08:00The Raas Festival on Majuli Island, Assam, India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgXZ0pRENH39-3vG3pgbjM5e41epdQnsUXvMXG-HATmzP-Xdu_13a9D5Q1dMImIqxnKg4oV5_4dKHOu97rhDqgoDibZRLtdvwcP0rhXX4ZTHX42sYr3z3Vos0IA8SGE97iuB1eR_M0yg/s1600/IMG_5257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgXZ0pRENH39-3vG3pgbjM5e41epdQnsUXvMXG-HATmzP-Xdu_13a9D5Q1dMImIqxnKg4oV5_4dKHOu97rhDqgoDibZRLtdvwcP0rhXX4ZTHX42sYr3z3Vos0IA8SGE97iuB1eR_M0yg/s320/IMG_5257.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Raas
Festival on Majuli Island, Assam, India<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Brahmaputra River, with its strong masculine name (Son
of Brahma) is one of India’s largest and flows from far northeast India south
until it passes into Bangladesh, finally emptying into the Bay of Bengal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It provides navigation for boats, irrigation
for fields, and yearly flooding during the Monsoon season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pulled up to the southern shore of the
river, needing to cross to Majuli Island, largest river island in the world and
site for the annual Raas festival each November.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the last 100 years, the annual flooding
of Majuli’s sandy soil has shrunk the island by two-thirds, losing whole
villages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is disappearing so quickly
there are travel stories advising tourists to visit before it disappears but I
discovered few travelers have heeded that advice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I felt the anxiety of our guide and driver as we approached
the river’s edge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lines of cars and
hundreds of motorcycles waited to board the few available ferries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For two hours, we inched forward, aware of
the fading light, watching helplessly as a line of military cars and officers
cut in line. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as it was our turn to
board, another car tried to cut in front of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our driver jumped out and yelled fiercely at the cheaters, banging on
their car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They finally backed down and
we were the last car on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried not to
think of stories of sinking overloaded ferries.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The boat was jammed with pilgrims bound for the
festival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the main floor, two
kerosene lanterns dimply lit the crowded space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Claustrophobia crept in as the night grew darker and I moved to the top
of the boat. On the upper deck, my sister-in-law and I realized we were the
only women enjoying the night air with a stunning shimmering super moon
reflecting the waters of the river. I relaxed for the first time and enjoyed
the smooth two-hour ride to the island.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next day was the first of the festival when the Raas
Leela, signifying the unification of the individual soul with the Higher soul
of Lord Krishna through unconditional love, is acted out and danced by the
entire island’s population, including children. These plays would go through
the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The many satras on the island,
or monasteries, were open for lodging and worship by the pilgrims.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSK8wxEkrXFSqpoTa5oXZwywUJf6rwqjoO3zjwu3_gvsnYajMEIFIOPVX9bmOKMn7J_TlQEyujlPzgIjH0NhW5g5eh4OTj2JLdjh_QsTPe_linVyqlKeK54Q7ilqYxgXroqJ0dQSB7tW0/s1600/IMG_5191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSK8wxEkrXFSqpoTa5oXZwywUJf6rwqjoO3zjwu3_gvsnYajMEIFIOPVX9bmOKMn7J_TlQEyujlPzgIjH0NhW5g5eh4OTj2JLdjh_QsTPe_linVyqlKeK54Q7ilqYxgXroqJ0dQSB7tW0/s200/IMG_5191.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOXGjSaaN5UhZlvzFKoUMDeDukc0pyVY7jzYtzh1yTB16LcBOnzPGrQXmf39yGI3SVAhwviMmWVAQoyv5q73fdh2W2pctsD24bRPBT9PA8aP0VRckuquiUxIR56ejnC2GZnWQNoi95Zc/s1600/IMG_5181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOXGjSaaN5UhZlvzFKoUMDeDukc0pyVY7jzYtzh1yTB16LcBOnzPGrQXmf39yGI3SVAhwviMmWVAQoyv5q73fdh2W2pctsD24bRPBT9PA8aP0VRckuquiUxIR56ejnC2GZnWQNoi95Zc/s200/IMG_5181.JPG" width="150" /></a>We began at the Kamalabari satra, meeting a young monk who
had lived in the monastery since a child, spoke perfect English, and was well
traveled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was known for his Satriya
dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the temple, our guide
explained the confusing symbols and reincarnated gods surrounding us and showed
how to enter the holy space– hand to the ground, the chest and the head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon, a monk with a bowl and cymbal began a
hypnotic chant that only the five of us were present to hear, drawing us into
the sacred space.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMa1gAnTBgR-zkp_spe-b1RI3DXg9gSmGoF2a6N4z-VE1qKwhhX4xsu1K4kC3mzoB7SZeQYtAUybjPcsUkwwFpXm5KWWSDVlt8-0xKVjxz5guqauDfLllRggdjw1qC7_eLu5mr1u_0EQ/s1600/IMG_5210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMa1gAnTBgR-zkp_spe-b1RI3DXg9gSmGoF2a6N4z-VE1qKwhhX4xsu1K4kC3mzoB7SZeQYtAUybjPcsUkwwFpXm5KWWSDVlt8-0xKVjxz5guqauDfLllRggdjw1qC7_eLu5mr1u_0EQ/s200/IMG_5210.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgioAQEwchogxMO30BlQ_edtq1m8eTdl_VudusDWS61SWtU2G-h0yCeDt5qOozwh6byv926NuS0XfnrbPSRDCm6TZNuSe-InEdeoyg349OkC_4GS4TZ5fkWUXkqe-pKv32I5WZ441I3g/s1600/IMG_5256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgioAQEwchogxMO30BlQ_edtq1m8eTdl_VudusDWS61SWtU2G-h0yCeDt5qOozwh6byv926NuS0XfnrbPSRDCm6TZNuSe-InEdeoyg349OkC_4GS4TZ5fkWUXkqe-pKv32I5WZ441I3g/s200/IMG_5256.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OYe2IWZP7e05_K7AIpNGA8vG6P3WHomVmuUYEK0nxxHQebmuMoK1zD9zucsVRG6vp2JATJv1sfR2HQAKBXb-6EhOpzcjN0niO9PtDgPMA7LcrZopUuRC4SIoNvfe9Oan9ZsUfyYclk8/s1600/IMG_5225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OYe2IWZP7e05_K7AIpNGA8vG6P3WHomVmuUYEK0nxxHQebmuMoK1zD9zucsVRG6vp2JATJv1sfR2HQAKBXb-6EhOpzcjN0niO9PtDgPMA7LcrZopUuRC4SIoNvfe9Oan9ZsUfyYclk8/s320/IMG_5225.JPG" width="240" /></a>At the largest satra in Auniati, many men and women wearing
white with the red and white Assamese stole over their shoulders, approached
the temple. Tour buses and cars filled the parking lot. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Butter candles and salt were for sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The crowd became denser as we neared the
temple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband towered over the
crowd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then the picture taking began
in earnest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We couldn’t progress without
posing for pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A group of women
surrounded me from behind, walking with me, laughing, pinching my face, a sign
of love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We seemed to be the only foreigners
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A news team asked to interview us
about our experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Assamese,
three and four deep, surrounded the film crew and took their own pictures of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our guide admitted he had never seen a crowd
response like ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our hotel owner even
thought that many of the pilgrims had never seen a white person before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is strange to think pictures of us are
floating around northeast India.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRAMeblMsB5tsdVM5Jb2qQzWuebkDVnC6m4fn1CUmVkutFDVUse_EmRNstritIMrmtJaqK8BeBUeSg5WEGLJLLVCLW7ymeFzeHK9eHMr73mobWVsd4c9KJ_iWdxo4ECM-cIMk6qTQpRPQ/s1600/IMG_5253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRAMeblMsB5tsdVM5Jb2qQzWuebkDVnC6m4fn1CUmVkutFDVUse_EmRNstritIMrmtJaqK8BeBUeSg5WEGLJLLVCLW7ymeFzeHK9eHMr73mobWVsd4c9KJ_iWdxo4ECM-cIMk6qTQpRPQ/s200/IMG_5253.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMb1TFZsKbeUjxr38fSGfgvFykrJjCGDqtPIwAcP3LslrnStNcRMyoDm7VK3C6ZU5twRw7h69RfS-MgcSv6IRYYdQ4Y9Gfermhct0OCPI4dhpcX5oihLMWllIvyjBPdUlvskYN2JnkoZg/s1600/IMG_5252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMb1TFZsKbeUjxr38fSGfgvFykrJjCGDqtPIwAcP3LslrnStNcRMyoDm7VK3C6ZU5twRw7h69RfS-MgcSv6IRYYdQ4Y9Gfermhct0OCPI4dhpcX5oihLMWllIvyjBPdUlvskYN2JnkoZg/s200/IMG_5252.JPG" width="200" /></a>After experiencing the Auniati Temple’s interior, crowded
with pilgrims, air heavy with incense, smoke from candles, bells, chanting and
praying, we traveled to Chamaguri, home of a well-known mask making
village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The masks were used in the Raas
Festival for dancing and storytelling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My brother posed with a museum employee in a monkey god mask, looking
out of place in his white shirt and khaki pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, the crowds had disappeared, and we
could quietly observe the chanting monks in white inside the nearby Samoguri
Temple.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVpTO683TpdqosQJJvT9-LjGZUgKsJNSPAO3sGWMRqzYk4rgDk4PW4CV2bpd6w1A5ME6ub7FvQgQLfDGM6SwArunRqHON0zNFsyintmNwiC36RRBx1ApGLFIR9nrAVCZT8TCqQF6VH1s/s1600/IMG_5243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVpTO683TpdqosQJJvT9-LjGZUgKsJNSPAO3sGWMRqzYk4rgDk4PW4CV2bpd6w1A5ME6ub7FvQgQLfDGM6SwArunRqHON0zNFsyintmNwiC36RRBx1ApGLFIR9nrAVCZT8TCqQF6VH1s/s320/IMG_5243.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Our return across the Brahmaputra River was not as dramatic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next night was spent in Thengal Manor, a
1929 English country mansion with servants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I felt whiplashed between times – a crazy, rich and intense 24 hours,
with a mighty river to unite the cultures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>India is filled with such moments. </div>
<br />
<i>Mary Walker Clark is a retired attorney turned travel
writer. Her stories may be found at her blog, Mary Clark, Traveler and her
podcasts at KETR, 88.9. She lives in
Paris and may be contacted at <span class="Hypertext">maryclarktraveler@gmail.com.</span> </i><br />
<br /></div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-66065704133794034242019-10-20T06:55:00.001-07:002019-10-20T06:55:30.153-07:00The Glamping Experience<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7OWVAZBlaT9frUR5MDg7t_s2dPlrHZegiqfqdEZ13WKOBde_TIy7bF90oL1KH7HbTa_D5WuLQVFdioEki_07hS3RV9xJHCIxO1KbrS2FoRFxFJ2BM_LB-osc88UpBUs__7IjxQeMfMU/s1600/IMG_2347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="1600" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7OWVAZBlaT9frUR5MDg7t_s2dPlrHZegiqfqdEZ13WKOBde_TIy7bF90oL1KH7HbTa_D5WuLQVFdioEki_07hS3RV9xJHCIxO1KbrS2FoRFxFJ2BM_LB-osc88UpBUs__7IjxQeMfMU/s640/IMG_2347.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panoramic view of Tiziri Camp in Morocco </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Most of us
have now heard of glamping, aka luxury camping, a mix of glamour and camping - the
tourist industry’s answer to those who like the idea of sleeping outside but
not carrying all the needed paraphernalia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It appeals to aging campers, picky sleepers and tender children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many may think first of the luxury tents
provided to African safari tours, but the idea has caught on world-wide,
including our own neck of the woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtS-drXBdsJP3m290h9-sj4aSu7txWyDGYGtr0U3tBN8ksv6aKgGmMFLob2VWfiiSi2rN0drJtAhPgx2kuNmDZL-qVWHY23sLir7fbtcEXGzy23C6SmvUTnYuabe5NsrtrqZ4rNWO-ec/s1600/IMG_9202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtS-drXBdsJP3m290h9-sj4aSu7txWyDGYGtr0U3tBN8ksv6aKgGmMFLob2VWfiiSi2rN0drJtAhPgx2kuNmDZL-qVWHY23sLir7fbtcEXGzy23C6SmvUTnYuabe5NsrtrqZ4rNWO-ec/s320/IMG_9202.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tents near Uluru Rock</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWuYSRAUKgkCsVOeYTB0akpjNkG1_KTKg0GEG3CG39gLE4ywJYcjuqiOQeFbN0ffRhqhF6iWQDNbJ_dKHcCdr2BPt0jFStyvS8DH-OpKsYzaqLJbjFTdw7xodH2RjaBE4upjkTTa-YUw/s1600/IMG_9424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWuYSRAUKgkCsVOeYTB0akpjNkG1_KTKg0GEG3CG39gLE4ywJYcjuqiOQeFbN0ffRhqhF6iWQDNbJ_dKHcCdr2BPt0jFStyvS8DH-OpKsYzaqLJbjFTdw7xodH2RjaBE4upjkTTa-YUw/s320/IMG_9424.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside tent near Uluru Rock</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve had two
very different glamping experiences. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On
a trip to the outback of Australia, I carefully suggested to my two female
friends that we forego the stay in a non-descript western hotel and try a more
rustic tour that provided real beds in tents but a shared bathroom across the
campfire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My roommate, Mary Grace, had
never camped at all and cautiously signed on to the idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp near King's Canyon, Australia</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We joined native Australians, four French, two
Germans, and a handful of New Zealanders in a very full van traveling across
the Uluru-Kat Tjuta National Park to Uluru rock and King’s Canyon, stopping at
prepared camp sites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tents barely
held two single beds, a bed light of maybe 20 watts, and a bit of floor space
for our bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mary Grace was pleased
with the beds and we tried not to think of the many Australian snakes we had
recently seen at a zoo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While the
beds were a step up from traditional camping, much of the remaining experiences
felt like a true outdoor event – early rising to see the sunrise over Uluru
Rock (previously called Ayres rock), sharing coffee with fellow travelers as we
awaited our pancakes, night skies undiluted by nearby lights, and a common
grubbiness from the hesitancy to use precious water to shower. Mary Grace was
proud to check camping off her list of first-time experiences, thought her sons
would be proud, and expected it to be her last foray into the campfire world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvw4nc25w5AfPuxnFc6_LISzn0-JytgSMgoIkI2i1rnUiq3zyD5NcUPPKRyRnoViyUA0fTMMVqQST4NQed5FJqC9ldquvaO25bxuRLhehfQB5yuWN8RMbqqTrr-MBwOBqvy11LHe8MZ9Y/s1600/IMG_2284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvw4nc25w5AfPuxnFc6_LISzn0-JytgSMgoIkI2i1rnUiq3zyD5NcUPPKRyRnoViyUA0fTMMVqQST4NQed5FJqC9ldquvaO25bxuRLhehfQB5yuWN8RMbqqTrr-MBwOBqvy11LHe8MZ9Y/s200/IMG_2284.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside tent at Tiziri Camp</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But then
there was Morocco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In planning the trip
to Morocco with a local tour agency, I saw on the proposed itinerary a night in
the desert in a tent offered at standard rate or luxury rate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being the frugal travelers that we were, we
chose the standard rate. But after our guide took one look at our gray hair, he
gently suggested the upgrade to luxury – an astute recommendation with little
additional cost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagIBiYY4bt7OeSEiyMLY_2ScDi0lXKk6YaALSVVYRVCVk55-lphPB7Wwd-eGWXk_6sQ8_fFBBndQsPrR_r8iOmdYH72TQCBchWngkhHmdKg7RRgVfi7_hl-TQzJ9Ffg8LpbXxH8l2VLM/s1600/IMG_2288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgagIBiYY4bt7OeSEiyMLY_2ScDi0lXKk6YaALSVVYRVCVk55-lphPB7Wwd-eGWXk_6sQ8_fFBBndQsPrR_r8iOmdYH72TQCBchWngkhHmdKg7RRgVfi7_hl-TQzJ9Ffg8LpbXxH8l2VLM/s320/IMG_2288.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Tiziri
Camp had just opened two months before our arrival, and we were out of sight of
the other camps used by various agencies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For our night, the four of us were the only travelers, meaning a very
personal experience. In the tent I shared with Mary Grace was a sandy floor entirely
carpeted with Moroccan rugs, adequate light, heated sheets and a personal
bathroom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Snacks and bottled water were
for the taking without charge and wifi was even available. This was a big step-up
from our Australian experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the
dining tent, beautiful place settings with fine china and crystal glasses
awaited the four- course meal. Our smiling waiter greeted us with the
traditional tea and then began a parade of Moroccan dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After dinner, we were invited to join local musicians
around a blazing campfire under the same clear night sky we had seen in
Australia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mary Grace and I even managed
to arise early enough to watch the sunrise. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sunk deep into the cool sand as we struggled
up the dune behind our tent but arrived in time for a magical moment of the
desert awakening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gPRYyoecscnErn9VchQ0w5z95ll-6HYFuKo42zoX7QGJZ-aHpmCHIv0iGe0qO8LXI9_R7yVI9CmhFEZWLJkG6a3SIkAZP6lw77UobH9t8CYzclBQxu6LQUNVQQcGxOiUai2xLLWvaMs/s1600/IMG_2289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gPRYyoecscnErn9VchQ0w5z95ll-6HYFuKo42zoX7QGJZ-aHpmCHIv0iGe0qO8LXI9_R7yVI9CmhFEZWLJkG6a3SIkAZP6lw77UobH9t8CYzclBQxu6LQUNVQQcGxOiUai2xLLWvaMs/s320/IMG_2289.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campfire circle at Tiziri Camp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Closer to
home are glamping options - a secluded bell tent near Broken Bow, Oklahoma for $160 per
night or a unique teepee near Tulsa on a horse ranch for $80 a night.
Throughout Texas are opportunities to stay in tree houses, tent, yurts,
airstreams and teepees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love the El
Cosmico’s name near Marfa and it offers all the above. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our daughter used the “Under Canvas”
organization’s site near Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota for her family’s first
luxury camping experience and loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This company is expanding and how has eight locations near many of our
favorite national parks. Prices vary significantly but all provide a unique
experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Many of
these locations can be booked on AirBnB as can other interesting lodging
options.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me, I’m happy to avoid
another stay at the predicable chain hotels that promote their hot breakfasts or
comfortable beds when these amenities are equally available closer to the great
outdoors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You just have to look for
them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://theculturetrip.com/north-america/usa/texas/articles/the-most-luxurious-glamping-sites-in-texas/">https://theculturetrip.com/north-america/usa/texas/articles/the-most-luxurious-glamping-sites-in-texas/</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.tripstodiscover.com/glamping-spots-in-texas/">https://www.tripstodiscover.com/glamping-spots-in-texas/</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://elcosmico.com/">https://elcosmico.com/</a> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.undercanvas.com/"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">https://www.undercanvas.com/</span></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-46847343527146231752019-09-03T13:17:00.001-07:002019-09-04T18:06:07.433-07:00European Travel 50 Years ago - a Widow's Diary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At our first Bed and Breakfast in London,<br />
June, 1969</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">In 2008,
I discovered my mother’s three volume diary from a family journey taken almost
40 years before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brothers and I
remember the trip well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could one
forget a ten-week<i> </i>European tour?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But only now as adults with children could we understand the courage
this took.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom had been widowed with
five children under the age of 20, and yet planned the trip herself at a time
when European travel was just opening up for Americans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">This
decision was not completely out of the blue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My mother fell in love with traveling in 1931 at the age of 11.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the midst of a depression, she ventured
out of Texas for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her
father had little money and her mother had died when she was five. But her
grandmother took her to California by train to visit family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Mom’s face was always transformed at the
mention of San Francisco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was seeing
the San Francisco Bay for the first time with its deep blue water and the city
on the hill and she was never the same after that. The trip revealed a world
awaiting discovery and her exploration began after she married a West Texas
farmer and had a few babies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every summer, Mom would put her
children in the back of a Plymouth station wagon and head out to a
predetermined destination in the United States. Distance didn’t matter.
Seattle, Los Angeles, Colorado, South Dakota, Washington, D.C., were all in her
sights. My father claimed the potato and cotton crops required his attention,
though he would still occasionally fly up and join us. By the time I left home,
my brothers and I had checked off 35 states. But it was after my mother was
widowed in 1966 at age 45 that she looked beyond the continental U.S. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">In 1969,
she decided the family needed to see Europe. Her original plan was a guided
tour of the major cities in Western Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But Bonnie, a family friend, convinced Mom that she could do it
independently and more economically, even if it included children ages 20, 19,
17, 15, and 13.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bonnie enticed my mother
with comments like “You have to eat ice cream and read the Herald Tribune at
St. Mark’s square.” Courageously, Mom decided to try it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Arranging a trip of this magnitude was right up her alley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> My mother was born to organize. </span>This was the woman who maintained a list of
the outfits she wore to her various clubs and school board meetings, so
duplications were kept at a minimum. Grocery lists were arranged according to
the layout of the store and the menu for the week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a volunteer, she kept track of recipes for
local cookbooks and of names for church directories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In our summer travels, each of us was given
paper sacks pulled out of a box that held age appropriate games or reading
material.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sacks were distributed
slowly over the length of the trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five
kids times five sacks times three surprises equals an active imagination and a
lot of organization.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Of
course, planning a European tour was something else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The publication of “Europe on $5 A Day” in
1957 abolished the myth that Continental travel was only for the wealthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Promises of $1 a night hotels in Spain and 50
cent meals in Italy caught voyagers’ attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the dollar trading at four German
marks, a British pound equaling $2.25, and charter flights starting to appear,
Europe wasn’t just attractive, it was attainable. And our family wasn’t
alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1969, five million Americans
(2.25% of the population) traveled abroad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was a significant increase from 1950 when only .45% of the
population ventured out of the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our baby boom population and higher income contributed to the growing
numbers. But it was a far cry from the 27 million, or 10% of the population,
who traveled abroad in 2000.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
1969,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a European tour still was very
unusual, especially in Plainview, a town of 18,000 in the Texas Panhandle,
where my mother was born and raised.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Mom dove
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She bought <u>Europe on $5 a Day</u>,
<u>Fodor’s Guide to Europe</u>, and <u>Fielding’s “Tours</u>”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was long before faxes, cheap telephone
calls or the internet. Friend Bonnie suggested an itinerary and Mom filled in
the rest. The U.S. Postal Service was used to reserve hotel rooms at every
major city on the route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thin, inquiring
aerograms flew out of our home at 2601 W. 11<sup>th</sup> Street,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to wide- flung European destinations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two to three weeks later, letters in rich,
thick envelopes appeared with exotic stamps and return addresses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Formal language acknowledged receipt of her
request for two rooms and most hotels confirmed the reservation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally, a deposit was required.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Credit cards were not widely accepted at the
time and we didn’t have one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom used a Volkswagen dealership in Lubbock,
Texas to order a green Volkswagen van to be delivered to London where we began
our trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cost of $2,299.80 included
$7.00 for push-out windows and $39 for an AM Radio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The equivalent in today’s prices would be a
modest purchase price of $13,633.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where
she found the information about shipping the van back to the United States, we
don’t know. But in pre-internet days, it was an impressive feat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Other
preparations included clothes for all of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They had to be “drip-dry”, the precursor to no-iron. Jeans and t-shirts
were out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were allotted three outfits
each.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In our pictures, my brothers look
amazingly well-dressed with slacks and button-down, short sleeve shirts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom went so far as to buy nylon underwear for
the boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The oldest brother rebelled,
but the younger ones acquiesced, while complaining under their breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baseball season was already lost for them,
so what difference did uncomfortable clothes make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">I had
some of the strangest clothes. Skirts were required in many churches in
Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Mom cleverly made an outfit
for me that was flexible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sewed two
one - piece shorts outfits with a reversible wrap-around skirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One set was brown with white polka dots and
the other white with brown polka dots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It didn’t look so bad with the skirt on, but in the shorts alone, I
appeared totally shapeless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Add to that my
habit of wearing my long hair in pig tails and my short five feet height, and
you got, well, you got stares.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Student
travel and discounts were then readily available and a perk for university
students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to having two college
aged children in the family, we could purchase airline tickets through Student
Travel Inc. in Austin, Texas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
charter plane landed in London and ten weeks later, departed from
Brussels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The price was right<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- $279.00 each ($1,654.47 today).
“Tourist-Economy” fare with Pan American Airways would have cost $500 per
ticket ($2,965 today).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wisely, Mom
bought six tickets for Charter #8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
confirmation letter even informed us that we would be flying on a Boeing 707
and that our flying time would be nine hours with a refueling stop in
Maine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since passenger jets were only
introduced in 1958, this bit of information on the plane was not always a
given. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The
Student Travel Inc. organization, assuming you had never done this before and
needed direction, issued two pedantic Charter Bulletins (No.1 and No.2). They
made specific suggestions as to what guide books to use (Fodor’s was in and
Frommer’s was out), mode of transportation (leasing or buying a car was the
best with Eurail pass a second choice), who to use for your photographs for
passport and student IDs (professional, please) and even the need for your
banker to know how to wire money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
implication was that small town bankers wouldn’t know the steps which was
probably true at that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Since
the air passage price depended on the fullness of the flight, we were
encouraged to sign up other travelers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were expected to be impressed at the “computerized flow chart that
shows the location of all of the aircraft at specific times and dates” which
would finally determine our exact departure time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What they DIDN’T want was for us to call them
about costs, departure times, etc. They would provide all that information in
due time -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>21 days before the
flight!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Trust us,” “We’ve done this
before” was their mantra.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first train ride from the London Airport into town</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">June 5
was “D-day” as Mom wrote in her diary. We were dressed like we were going to church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three of my brothers wore a shirt, tie, and
sport coat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in a flowered dress
and both Mom and I had corsages given to us by my aunt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the only time I ever wore a
flower on a plane but it signified the specialty of the occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An itinerary of the “Walker’s Waltz” across
Europe was left with family members. The charter flight out of Dallas left one
and a half hours late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But nothing dampened
our excitement - Europe for ten weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Mom had
read her guidebooks well and was prepared to travel economically, especially
with food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stayed in moderate
lodgings where breakfast was always included. The European emphasis on breads,
butter, and jam didn’t impress any of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All agreed the English breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, jam, tomatoes,
juice, and hot tea was the only decent morning food of the trip. Lunch was a
picnic or a meal where the locals ate - cafeterias, department store dining
rooms, university dining halls, train stations, or often at what Mom referred
to in her diary as a “joint”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We ate
lunch at a joint - food was OK.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
France, Switzerland and Italy, dinner was often included in the price of the
room, another savings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two rooms,
breakfast and dinner for six went for $36 in Chiavari on the coast of Italy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmdP9pMQxyd5vHjJY1H-dndq1hWAXqJH-Nf6OHrGsES9AYRfyn3xd-ahpDxYhPY3NOIroNDPv5bqdvseyq2lCREm-koBykF-GfoXkJ1W2H5-5c2bkqJBqOH8FugOIt4w0pK3FXhejwiA/s1600/Scan17_0017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmdP9pMQxyd5vHjJY1H-dndq1hWAXqJH-Nf6OHrGsES9AYRfyn3xd-ahpDxYhPY3NOIroNDPv5bqdvseyq2lCREm-koBykF-GfoXkJ1W2H5-5c2bkqJBqOH8FugOIt4w0pK3FXhejwiA/s320/Scan17_0017.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are fighting over the baguettes. Please note the<br />
robes two of my brothers are wearing which Mom<br />
thought were important enough to take up<br />
precious suitcase room.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">We knew
when a meal was expensive by its inclusion in her diary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lunch at the Louvre cost $6.50 for six ham
sandwiches, six drinks, and four ice creams. Mom considered that high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, today that meal will set you back
$88.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most dear meal was at the
Hilton Hotel steakhouse in Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
were starved for American food and tired of bubbly water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The splurge for the BBQ and steaks totaled
$33.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Expensive as the devil, of course,
but worth it” read this diary entry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"> We
started picnicking more as the trip progressed including an unexpected picnic <i>inside</i>
the van,<i> inside</i> a train transporting our car, <i>inside</i> a mountain
on our way to Lugano, Switzerland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
menu was also unusual - lemon chess cake, two oranges, potato chips, and
water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom didn’t include any complaints
but there had to have been some mutterings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Many new
food experiences were noted - steak tartare and pretzels in Germany, Swiss
cheese fondue, cooked Romaine lettuce, Indonesian food, German wiener schnitzel,
English beef and kidney pie and the famous Austrian Sacher Torte.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Danish pastries were so superior to the
“danish rolls” we had at home, it was hard to believe one descended from the
other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In England we enjoyed our first
high tea and at Coventry Cathedral, a gooseberry crumble served at the church
rectory rated the superlative of “best”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today, none of these dishes sound exotic because of widespread traveling
and availability of international cuisine in the U.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But in 1969, they were all new to our
palates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were disappointing (the
Sacher Torte was dry) but others captured us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After the discovery of wiener schnitzel, two of my brothers tried to
order it wherever they went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still
wrap my spaghetti around a fork using a large spoon as a brace, as taught us by
the Italian waiters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for years
following the trip, my mother searched for gooseberries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">We
covered approximately 4000 miles as we drove through England, France,
Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Germany, Denmark, Holland and Belgium. My older
brother (20) and I (19) took turns driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>According to Mom’s diary, we got lost a lot, drove in a bus lane in
Paris, chose back roads to find restaurants and small hotels, and used maps
extensively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We purchased gasoline
coupons in Italy (30% discount cards for tourists) and hoped the hotel
discounts promised would work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isle of Capri, Italy. I don't know who the guy in the passenger seat is.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed at Mom’s description of ordering and
paying for a lunch at an Italian roadside café.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“You first paid for the food to get a sales slip, then went to the
(food) counter and fought the crowd to get your choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn’t matter whether you were in line or
not, people would push their way right in front.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have written that description in 2008 at a roadside café on a tollway in Sicily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some things haven’t changed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Much of
our time was spent with the usual tourist activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a commercial art major, Mom was determined
we would explore the major museums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
see the actual Magna Carta and original scores by Bach and Mozart at the
British Museum was thrilling for this farmer’s widow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The small, unassuming Mona Lisa at the Louvre
was open for close examination, free of the massive crowds of today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Florence, Mom learned the fruit wreaths
used at home were named for the artist, Lucia Della Robbia, who painted the
sculptured fruit frames in bright colors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And Tintoretto’s massive paintings at the Scuola de San Rocco in Venice
were pondered for their contrasts in light and dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Plenty
of time was set aside for shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cheap ski equipment impressed my brothers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The purchase of skis by my oldest brother at
the Galeries Lafayette in Paris exposed our ignorance of tourist refunds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thought a discount was offered, but it was
actually the right to turn in our receipts at the border and have a refund
mailed to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of this took two
interpreters and two hours to understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The rest of us chose to buy ski boots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have no idea what we were thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It just seemed cool at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The equipment came in handy when we unexpectedly got to ski in Zermatt,
Switzerland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even with new boots and
skis, we must have looked pitiful coming down the mountains with socks for
gloves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the remainder of the trip,
we had to shuffle the skis and boots around in the Volkswagen bus to make room
for our increasing purchases.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thankfully, Mom collected spoons from each country which took little
space.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">In 1969,
every country had a different currency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Without ATMs, Mom had to bring sufficient traveler checks for the entire
trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She learned to store the checks in
the hotel’s safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, there was a
constant calculation of how much would be needed to be changed for the stay in
each country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, bank hours had to be
factored in. On a Saturday in Venice, we were down to $35 to last through
the week-end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had to choose between a
gondola ride and a real meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went
with the boat ride and ate cheese and crackers in the hotel room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Interestingly, the European countries were
just beginning to explore that year the idea of a common currency in their
drive for economic and monetary union. The first policy statements were
approved in 1969 by members of the EEC at a summit at the Hague.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took 30 more years for it to happen
(January 1, 1999).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">The best
experiences were personal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a very out
of the way country inn in France, the stout owner appeared surprised to have an
American family arrive. Our exchange was often through pantomime since my
school French didn’t pick up the subtleties of her conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Madame Reine Nantou particularly loved our
being from Texas, using her hands as pistols to demonstrate her understanding
of our heritage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She imitated a snorting
pig to illustrate the pork dish on the menu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And she was horrified when my youngest brother asked for Coca-Cola,
insisting on serving wine to all of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even after these 40 years, I still remember her fresh tomatoes as the
best I’ve ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also our
first experience of a prix fixe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At our
departure, Madame insisted on giving us wine glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we waved good-by she blew kisses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She singlehandedly changed our impression of
the French.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_IK6t24DNYxCh7-6kqQ8HuWiMB4YV48bCvOZTHkf5kVDgzSRBVwnGCFjR5eanC0W1KUnOMDpZSe3i9SOU6D1odiDnbFhWtHsyvsVG4WdzKclHml_TxIUfkxD03uT-Q9aQMkdXRYA3ws/s1600/Scan16_0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_IK6t24DNYxCh7-6kqQ8HuWiMB4YV48bCvOZTHkf5kVDgzSRBVwnGCFjR5eanC0W1KUnOMDpZSe3i9SOU6D1odiDnbFhWtHsyvsVG4WdzKclHml_TxIUfkxD03uT-Q9aQMkdXRYA3ws/s320/Scan16_0016.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">In 1967
our family had hosted a foreign exchange student from Asperg, Germany, named
Helmut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His family was happy to return
the hospitality and welcomed us with the best food of the trip - sausages,
cream cakes, pretzels, goulash, home-made noodles, pickled cucumbers,
strawberry torte shortcake, and wine and beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was at their home we realized Europe was </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">still recovering from the
war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Gabauer family had to build a
fire to heat the water for our showers and they had no telephone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom used the home telephone of Helmut’s
girlfriend to call Texas, the only phone call of the trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Helmut joined us later in the trip on our
drive through Germany and Denmark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was particularly instrumental in introducing the older kids to beer halls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The casualness of teenagers drinking in
Europe surprised my mother and excited the rest of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we had to be careful not to match them
drink to drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had years of
conditioning on those of us who came from the 21 year drinking age
country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">A visit
to the Mumm Champagne factory in Reims introduced my youngest brother, age 13,
to his first alcohol buzz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all were
taken with the idea of free alcohol at the end of the tour and managed to
explore two breweries that summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
older brother and I found youth clubs in most of the major cities for late
evening fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Discos had not yet arrived.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a Jazz Bar in Rome, Meadowlark Lemons
of the Harlem Globetrotters sat at our table to chat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Berlin, we felt out of our league in a
darkened, candle lit cabaret straight out of the 1930's.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Phones in the booths were used to invite
other patrons to dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one called
us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZp1AqVxizIje7QRElmum4S55HBQLNl0CFHYFuDsSSt2MLB9vUdstyyvXErGBdxSjRYqx2e3RvRqokMClBCRXNxE5xLDmgNlgtXw-KP6Iv6eclYsjqHrvx5tK_FtV3evnLYVYv6rR77II/s1600/Scan14_0014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZp1AqVxizIje7QRElmum4S55HBQLNl0CFHYFuDsSSt2MLB9vUdstyyvXErGBdxSjRYqx2e3RvRqokMClBCRXNxE5xLDmgNlgtXw-KP6Iv6eclYsjqHrvx5tK_FtV3evnLYVYv6rR77II/s320/Scan14_0014.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">The
siblings share many favorite memories - skiing in Switzerland, snorkeling in
Sorrento, Italy, celebrating the 4</span><sup style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"> of July at the American Embassy
party in Rome, figuring out the bidet</span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">, exploring the Salt Mines in Austria, and crossing Checkpoint
Charlie on a tour into East Berlin.</span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">In
July, Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.</span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;">We were up very early to watch it at our pension in Salzburg, Austria,
and later joined crowds on the street peering into store windows with
televisions.</span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Switzerland, I think. I'm wearing a wig, which was quite popular then.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">By the
time we arrived in Brussels ten weeks later, we were ready to return to
American soil, especially my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
reports none of us wanted to do anything in Belgium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our luggage had doubled despite boxes of
goods that had previously been mailed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Without wheels on suitcases, all of us were loaded down. The van was
dropped off to be shipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our plane was
six hours late in departing but no one cared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was time to go home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">Upon
returning, Mom was the toast of the Texas Panhandle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone wanted to hear what it was really
like “over there”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found her notes for
a speech she was asked to give about the adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a take off on the question all
travelers dread: “Which was your favorite country?”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She broke the countries into categories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Austria had the best scenery, Italy the most
impressive art, England the friendliest people, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For her, though, the most moving experiences
were patriotic ones - being at the 4<sup>th</sup> of July party in Rome and
watching the moon landing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She missed
her country and was happy to return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Looking back, she wistfully ended her speech with, “I always thought I
had as much chance of going to Europe as man had of walking on the moon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then there was the summer of 1969.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe Print";">It's now been 50 years since we first explored Europe. Mildred
Walker, the subject of this essay, died in 2010. Her dementia had prevented her
from remembering many of the details of the trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> W</span>hen I read the diaries to her, she just
smiled and said, “We had a wonderful time, didn’t we?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, we did, and this adventure opened up the
entire world to our family’s exploration which continues to this day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All it took was Mom’s courage to try.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-83281871525505772942016-04-25T13:32:00.001-07:002019-04-01T14:32:37.277-07:00What we liked in apartments and missed in hotels in Spain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ0yXo9XjTpDBKiHTEdn4H2VNS8myB00uea5XcWEUkZVEqIORQS1o2L5t05aS1kXyBg9I0swwGuuRUpzE4QFw-tRFT5XOKycnWWob60Z4216xOr8WLZ_yKywJubCB1spUVNsWMpFgBBis/s1600/2016-04-12+15.13.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ0yXo9XjTpDBKiHTEdn4H2VNS8myB00uea5XcWEUkZVEqIORQS1o2L5t05aS1kXyBg9I0swwGuuRUpzE4QFw-tRFT5XOKycnWWob60Z4216xOr8WLZ_yKywJubCB1spUVNsWMpFgBBis/s320/2016-04-12+15.13.59.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apartment in Granada, Spain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">The explosion of new spaces
for overnight stays has given travelers many more options. While the large hotel industry is not yet
worried, local municipalities are starting to rethink how their hotel/motel tax
is collected. They should. Over 30 million people have used Airbnb since
it started six years ago. VRBO and
Homeaway have been stealing customers from hotels for even longer, causing a
dip in tax revenues. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Over the last 5 years, I’ve
used VRBO and Airbnb on numerous occasions – New Orleans shotgun house,
recently renovated apartment in Siracusa, Italy, farmhouse in Tuscany, attic
apartment in Paris, France, and a small garage apartment in Albuquerque. They have been positive experiences with only
a few surprises. We recently explored Spain and decided in advance to only use
VRBO and Airbnbs, rather than a mix of both.
It was a hard decision as I do love the small, charming hotels in Europe
which are very difficult to locate in the U.S.
But we needed at least two bedrooms and the apartment scenario seemed
more appropriate. Here’s our take from
our trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Observations of Apartment Stays</span></b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> - <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Space, space and more space - separate bedrooms and baths
plus living areas. Suites in a hotel
with the kind of space an apartment offers would be cost prohibitive to most
travelers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Allowed possibility for bringing in food for breakfast and
other meals. All had coffee makers and
most provided coffee and tea. We ate breakfast in almost every morning and
brought dinner in twice. And that cheese and crackers with a bottle of wine was great in the late afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Hosts were helpful – some more than others. It was nice to get one who spent time pouring
over a map to be sure we were oriented and could make restaurant suggestions,
etc. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Felt more
a part of the city and neighborhood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Easier
communication among us traveling. With 2
or three hotel rooms, we would have had to use phones or go the rooms to
communicate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Washing
machines were available in two apartments which was helpful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> We had
balconies in three of the four apartments – a lovely addition. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Wifi
was available in all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Had
booking fees but am not sure if the stay was subject to local taxes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Had
some issues with neighboring apartment noise and street chatter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">What we
missed in not having a hotel.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Always
someone there to check you in. For the
apartment, you have to coordinate arrival times which can be tricky in a
foreign country, especially if you can’t use your phone easily. Whatsapp was a very popular app for
communicating with landlords.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Extra
keys are available if you lose yours or leave them inside. Most apartments had two sets of keys which
was enough for this trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Has
regular maid service with clean towels, extra pillows, etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Local
telephone in room<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> More
likely to have lots of TV stations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Could
change rooms if your room were loud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Suggestions in
the Future <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Stay
in a hotel the first and last stop for easy check-in and to be assured of a
good night of sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Use
the apartment route if you are more than 2 or 3 persons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Use
the hotel for one night stays and apartments for 3 or more nights. For two nights, it depends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"> Be
prepared for communication with landlords.
It should be worked out in advance.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-4891891361253487472016-01-17T12:43:00.001-08:002016-01-17T12:43:20.954-08:00The Day Our Flight was Canceled in Lalibela, Ethiopia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg63_Kn4Qs3fOaRAYpstZWLGn4Sa6yB8vDDrjTFP2hsrjSFoJhKY0hQJZD1wck6mGqpjzfCA2l0z6XiCaI3K1ddCfFiJSEoad7aC37Ns1JlS5Tpm9nw-fkDLr2MDdb70eAAuOBgF1ZfgI/s1600/2015-09-22+05.01.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg63_Kn4Qs3fOaRAYpstZWLGn4Sa6yB8vDDrjTFP2hsrjSFoJhKY0hQJZD1wck6mGqpjzfCA2l0z6XiCaI3K1ddCfFiJSEoad7aC37Ns1JlS5Tpm9nw-fkDLr2MDdb70eAAuOBgF1ZfgI/s640/2015-09-22+05.01.04.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Lalibela Airport, Ethiopia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3ciPBa0eUmqO4CCfkJIPcgyMyW64W6obGSbIRH7TK9L98dTaIUcKBXi4m3_8bxingc7j1p3PJFiHKdPqh4VVBFBlXVRv8SVXza4zzYhPH5igYNcMJQMPCj5gFKPMRqBOsQVv_R7ma34/s1600/2015-09-21+22.45.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3ciPBa0eUmqO4CCfkJIPcgyMyW64W6obGSbIRH7TK9L98dTaIUcKBXi4m3_8bxingc7j1p3PJFiHKdPqh4VVBFBlXVRv8SVXza4zzYhPH5igYNcMJQMPCj5gFKPMRqBOsQVv_R7ma34/s200/2015-09-21+22.45.46.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJcqu_O_TOyxg-4V5AiDhmND_Slg5DBmPJMSe0-6b18lOdELRxHigGQos4t6YM58YJgSIQOVBiai-X1AXI49hQqEKwxV-CW8FMeTBut1X4MRUGswcXXU1ZRW6gJgfcNJZ8JIhGlO91UE/s1600/2015-09-21+22.27.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJcqu_O_TOyxg-4V5AiDhmND_Slg5DBmPJMSe0-6b18lOdELRxHigGQos4t6YM58YJgSIQOVBiai-X1AXI49hQqEKwxV-CW8FMeTBut1X4MRUGswcXXU1ZRW6gJgfcNJZ8JIhGlO91UE/s200/2015-09-21+22.27.55.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">On a beautiful, fall morning, our guide, Muchaw Derebe,
picked us up for the thirty minute drive to the Lalibela Airport. Seven stops were made along the road to take
pictures – of farmers using oxen to plow the fields, distinctive circular
Orthodox churches, Chinese working on the roads, and children eager to be
photographed. It was a leisurely drive
and we arrived with time to spare.</span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Our next stop was Axum where the acclaimed Ark of the
Covenant resides in a chapel, accompanied only by a solitary priest. We were
also looking forward to meeting up with some fellow travelers, seeing obelisks and stelae from ancient
Aksum, and attending a local wedding, all followed by a drive through the back
mountains of Ethiopia. The long awaited
plans were coming together.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7R0TKRV3k4e51iFjHno3e-0ttNuPNV1uSLAYiFPcsITc9-KSUKYnDVfE4ivVhVWrRjH4mVkAlMLwg5zocIUH_A6XOfpawm8Kyphe7wiBFOgUjHFDikrzVGxfJRgtHHVkn6GQLKq9poRY/s1600/2015-09-22+04.59.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7R0TKRV3k4e51iFjHno3e-0ttNuPNV1uSLAYiFPcsITc9-KSUKYnDVfE4ivVhVWrRjH4mVkAlMLwg5zocIUH_A6XOfpawm8Kyphe7wiBFOgUjHFDikrzVGxfJRgtHHVkn6GQLKq9poRY/s400/2015-09-22+04.59.50.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">The Lalibela Airport is modest in size but spectacular in
location. A large plateau hosts the
runways and in the distance mountains and valleys lie in shadows. Only one couple waited with us for the
flight to Axum. Departure time of 9:35
am came and went. A new group of
travelers filled the waiting room and left on their plane. Inquiries yielded limited information. Our plane had mechanical difficulties and
needed a mechanic and part flown to Gondar, where the plane waited. Two to three hour delay expected. Anxiety set in.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ezTFB4dku-nZDdZQ6NxAn7e24fSS87M6YqZJmQq38eVVIZI5V-b0zE13Dau9XSKLjxJi36D4IGsj_JBpAWNowi9qheJ3SMes6IMqEoVGSbx7bOBIMP9inkBx2yJJxgno6NPioNw0e4s/s1600/2015-09-22+04.58.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ezTFB4dku-nZDdZQ6NxAn7e24fSS87M6YqZJmQq38eVVIZI5V-b0zE13Dau9XSKLjxJi36D4IGsj_JBpAWNowi9qheJ3SMes6IMqEoVGSbx7bOBIMP9inkBx2yJJxgno6NPioNw0e4s/s320/2015-09-22+04.58.44.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Muchaw Derebe, Betty Swasko, Tina Smith waiting</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">One small café upstairs offered minimal food and drink with
most listed on the menu unavailable, including milk. Our guide surprised us when he returned upon
hearing of our delay and had four large bottle of water in tow. We settled in for the wait. I reviewed my pictures with Muchaw in order
to correctly identify the various churches in Lalibela. We took a couple of walks outside the
airport, noting recent plantings along the driveway. Guards waved us in as we returned,
recognizing our faces by now.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcNNjdcZgyRdoS3DPioB6WKrj2qxm5p-SpXmhbp0c6ML1zx1T4PrDxODeUHeu_BPdp9yokRZjj3RqxqvRrdS6XxYj8e6C1soJxVZmC1jJK__-sgtK7Iyj3AEah_edNAvdm7vh6QMSV2w/s1600/2015-09-22+05.08.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcNNjdcZgyRdoS3DPioB6WKrj2qxm5p-SpXmhbp0c6ML1zx1T4PrDxODeUHeu_BPdp9yokRZjj3RqxqvRrdS6XxYj8e6C1soJxVZmC1jJK__-sgtK7Iyj3AEah_edNAvdm7vh6QMSV2w/s320/2015-09-22+05.08.48.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pasta served by airline in airport lobby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">In the
lobby, CNN played on a very small television next to a dead palm tree. At 3 p.m., the airline served us pasta with a
spicy red sauce. More stranded travelers
had filled the lobby throughout the day, an international group from the United
Kingdom, the United States, Israel, and Japan.
With English as our common language, we visited across country
lines. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">At 4 p.m., a rumor circulated that the plane was in the air
but at 5:20, the flight was officially canceled due to bad weather at our
destination – eight hours after our scheduled take-off. Our now enlarged group climbed into a
waiting van and more visiting took place.
The British couple lived apart – the husband measured public opinion in
Baghdad while the wife lived in London.
Two young Israeli girls were traveling for seven months after serving in
the military, an accepted practice in many families. My Japanese chemical engineer seatmate wanted
to know how many countries I had been to.
And across the aisle, I talked with the other Japanese, a woman who
worked in their embassy. The return trip
to Lalibela passed quickly. Each of us got our own hotel room in a round
thatched roof building. Dinner was also
on the airline. Many of our travelers
gathered for a drink before eating and continued the visiting. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Our guide had other plans for us. Muchaw wanted a happy ending to such a long
day. At 8 p.m., he picked us up and we
drove to the Torpido for a true Ethiopian culture experience in a part bar,
part dance hall. We entered the incense infused gathering place found down an
alley. Red Christmas lights dimly lit
the space while small tables circled an open area. Honey wine with three levels of alcohol was
served. All smiled at us as we followed
Muchaw to a table and sat facing the center.
Soon, a beautiful singer and the accompanist on a one string masenquo entered
and began singing, circling the room and incorporating funny comments into the
music about the familiar clientele – a kind of Ethiopian rap. All laughed and clapped. Muchaw translated for us but sometimes was
laughing too hard to do so. The singer
even stopped at our table and sang about our beautiful country and how much she
loved America. Many stood to dance the
shoulder shaking Ethiopian style called the eskusta. We couldn’t stop smiling. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">The next morning, we gathered with our new friends for
breakfast, drove the now familiar road to the airport and held our breath until
our plane took off. Because of time
constraints, we had to rearrange our itinerary. At the Gondar Airport, we
hugged the Israeli girls and the American couple and waved at the rest before
entering a waiting taxi. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, we missed Axum and the wedding and the drive through
the mountains but we passed a unique and unscripted day with new friends and
experiences. It fit my long held belief
that the worst travel experiences can result in the best travel stories. This was one of the best.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-pwGRI-KMlZ1kAI316a9XKE4qwPweFOrK2NbYifDGLv7vas1UDuMWsCHS3DNw_kavkdTNbUyWH4VISA91NgU8DTwKDIzC4w571z17JMQEfm3iENwWDcXf3XPKdRoMK_mvq-EtxFr6cE/s1600/2015-09-21+22.29.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-pwGRI-KMlZ1kAI316a9XKE4qwPweFOrK2NbYifDGLv7vas1UDuMWsCHS3DNw_kavkdTNbUyWH4VISA91NgU8DTwKDIzC4w571z17JMQEfm3iENwWDcXf3XPKdRoMK_mvq-EtxFr6cE/s320/2015-09-21+22.29.27.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-72980283315058865662015-12-19T19:41:00.000-08:002015-12-19T19:41:02.587-08:00Ethiopia's Simien National Park Faces Challenges<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANj2hczPQdjpjDSHtsseYFXtUzXTUMhx_ffDWZmUrKUFEuVEMQCCY6EpDf6TvEVzaIJBRkQ0Pe7iJ5X2FBIEXvfFPwdxthXGPVP6U2aTZLFEP5jDQbLhLAQiX07xVMsjqiZOyP0T1zr4/s1600/simien+national+park1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANj2hczPQdjpjDSHtsseYFXtUzXTUMhx_ffDWZmUrKUFEuVEMQCCY6EpDf6TvEVzaIJBRkQ0Pe7iJ5X2FBIEXvfFPwdxthXGPVP6U2aTZLFEP5jDQbLhLAQiX07xVMsjqiZOyP0T1zr4/s400/simien+national+park1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Simien National Park from Plateau</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The approach
to Simien National Park from Debark, Ethiopia on a newly constructed gravel
road is, at first, one filled with jagged mountain tops and plateaus. But
upon encountering the plunge into valleys below, only our Grand Canyon seems
comparable. Created by massive erosion, the layers of mountains, plateaus and
valleys stretch for miles. Dizzying drops
in altitude lie below edges of the escarpment’s grass fields. Distant shadows hint at hidden rivers. The Park contains the highest peak in Ethiopia
at 15,000 feet and Africa’s highest hotel.
The scenery would have been enough but we hoped to encounter some of the
park’s unique animal life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We were
lucky. The week before had been cold and
misty but this week was clear with almost no one on the roads. Our arrival corresponded with the end of the
rainy season but before dry season when tourists arrive to backpack through
mountains and gorges. Our van simply
stopped by the side of the road leaving us to walk across the mountain side,
sometimes on a trail but often through grass fields.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fzF0e1Vg664gQzQCJX8P0BsMhkqsQeO60ueGpH9F5OW6jZU3kEMEf3UvmDuWvzp8otbs0FiGz-xlxsH8vTNzs29O2wnDM7LEMsD-_Aou-i9lnjaJetW1k0QZpwdVZTrqD46wFtd2RiE/s1600/Herd+of+baboons+eating+on+the+plateau..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fzF0e1Vg664gQzQCJX8P0BsMhkqsQeO60ueGpH9F5OW6jZU3kEMEf3UvmDuWvzp8otbs0FiGz-xlxsH8vTNzs29O2wnDM7LEMsD-_Aou-i9lnjaJetW1k0QZpwdVZTrqD46wFtd2RiE/s320/Herd+of+baboons+eating+on+the+plateau..jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herd of Gelada Baboons in Simien National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
endangered Ethiopian fox and Walia ibex, a wild goat, are rare sightings and
stayed hidden from us. In higher numbers
are the Gelada Baboons, nature’s only primates that are primarily grazers. They are more closely related to monkeys than
the aggressive African cousins. Their
numbers have increased from 3000 to 5000 in the park. These baboons spend
nights on cliff ledges and emerge in the mornings on to plateau tops to feed
and socialize. That is exactly where we
found a herd of them, defined as 60 or more reproductive units. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_vaxc9ftmUCh5c2KT_W_25PhPM2656_pPZFKbHXurUJaqOD6WwMRV5LS_vVpyGUNHsGL33U-aAuBRdd-ILCa0o6GiApR8upJgktm6fqLViyMeQdcJYrbXibz0YaCLxKYKy3CJMvU-cQ/s1600/simien+national+park++herd+of+baboons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_vaxc9ftmUCh5c2KT_W_25PhPM2656_pPZFKbHXurUJaqOD6WwMRV5LS_vVpyGUNHsGL33U-aAuBRdd-ILCa0o6GiApR8upJgktm6fqLViyMeQdcJYrbXibz0YaCLxKYKy3CJMvU-cQ/s320/simien+national+park++herd+of+baboons.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSmbwLOBCKa15AjfmCFVbfDkgR8-56vn8MU3DIsKbIFZ-g0hpmud96pGyviI1qpfXXHgs7fXaokEDmjnTNb9HOu5hVhySw-Rmvvq0sUAUfh8IDpCwz-IpMj_nYa-E-SOyTr8XWGXDzJLs/s1600/herd+of+baboons+leaving+the+plateau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSmbwLOBCKa15AjfmCFVbfDkgR8-56vn8MU3DIsKbIFZ-g0hpmud96pGyviI1qpfXXHgs7fXaokEDmjnTNb9HOu5hVhySw-Rmvvq0sUAUfh8IDpCwz-IpMj_nYa-E-SOyTr8XWGXDzJLs/s320/herd+of+baboons+leaving+the+plateau.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herd of Gelada Baboons follow leader </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Juvenile
baboons rattled branches in a large tree before dropping to earth, chasing and
challenging each other. When tired, they
hopped on their mothers’ backs to rest, carried to the next feeding area. These primates have small sturdy fingers for
pulling grass, 90% of their diet. As
they sat and tugged at grass blades and seeds, our small group circled ever
closer to observe and photograph. Warned
only not to look directly at their eyes, we were able to come within ten feet
of the large pack. If bothered by our
proximity, a baboon would simply slowly move away. All followed the lead of one dominant male as
they crossed the field and disappeared below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Behind this
stunning setting is a more complicated political balancing act. Created in 1969, the Simien National Park was
also designated a World Heritage Site in 1978.
As such, it is followed closely out of concern for rare birds and
animals but also for overgrazing by sheep, goats, and other livestock brought
into the park. With 600 households or
3200 people residing in the park and another 1500 around the edges, over
harvesting of natural resources and agricultural expansion are also problems. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvIsZFt5Il2vhxWtkazn5lYNbl09Ym3OUaMqRYe2BgS4SvAbBRg7QXHfodCu9QOE6xRJKp824wNJwRx-E79jkBSv3d1VgFObH6vh6AnigMadZ8d68nLjrAh3DaGlPWPMFUuOUEghc8_E/s1600/two+locals+hired+to+accompany+a+tourist+group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpvIsZFt5Il2vhxWtkazn5lYNbl09Ym3OUaMqRYe2BgS4SvAbBRg7QXHfodCu9QOE6xRJKp824wNJwRx-E79jkBSv3d1VgFObH6vh6AnigMadZ8d68nLjrAh3DaGlPWPMFUuOUEghc8_E/s320/two+locals+hired+to+accompany+a+tourist+group.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Local Soldiers hired to Accompany tourist group</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The need to
bring human activities to sustainable levels requires finding alternative
livelihoods for the park’s residents.
According to our guide, many are being employed by the park services, teaching
them respect for the value of the baboons in tourism. It has helped eliminate the common harvesting
of baboons for clothes and food for dogs.
Two park soldiers were hired to accompany us on our visit for protection
from dogs. After ten days of service,
they would return to their home and farms.
Handmade handicrafts were sold at the park’s store, giving badly needed
income to local artists. These efforts have been supported by the Austrian
government since 1997, a welcome and useful contribution by the international
community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tourism is
rising as more discover this beautiful but fragile part of the world. There was a tenfold increase in numbers over
the last 15 years, bringing more revenue for those who provide pack animals,
guides, etc. A Tourism Master Plan was
approved in 2007 to help prepare and direct the movement. It is being monitored by the World Heritage
Organization that still rates the park as EN or endangered because of the high
risk of extinction of the Ethiopian Fox and Walia Ibex. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It seemed an
African National Park Ranger must be part conservationist, botanist,
zoologist, mechanic and diplomat, not to
mention resourceful and creative. They
are charged with protecting rare animals, birds and plant life with limited
budgets while convincing locals of the need to cooperate. Visitors also challenge rules established to
protect the environment. All this was
obvious on our visit to the Simien National Park where we found a commitment to
preserve the setting with local
involvement. We can only hope for their
success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://simienpark.org/">Simien National Park</a></span><br />
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-17353361963556273332015-12-02T14:18:00.000-08:002015-12-02T14:18:10.288-08:00International Night Food Event Brings Us Together<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvqXCTeyFDUTGhthDLp66ZFp5IOmVaDwBPwGA3Cvxql5f_N7RCAKbo6rkTXd986-LBf9Is9qN5SN_k5CyCdKEe0n2EUKlpN5pKY3ld-msn6-sKhTq651HROVXENNuDQ-TkFO7RcEPij0/s1600/international+dinner+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvqXCTeyFDUTGhthDLp66ZFp5IOmVaDwBPwGA3Cvxql5f_N7RCAKbo6rkTXd986-LBf9Is9qN5SN_k5CyCdKEe0n2EUKlpN5pKY3ld-msn6-sKhTq651HROVXENNuDQ-TkFO7RcEPij0/s320/international+dinner+2015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oriel Carey Shows off Indian dhokla and carrot halwa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ninety-eight
percent of Americans are descendants of immigrants. Some can trace their family tree back to Colonial
days. Many came with the Germans and
Irish at the turn of the 20<sup>th</sup> century. Changes in immigrations law
in the last 30 years has meant more recent arrivals hail from around the globe
and particularly, from Asian and Latin American countries. Each wave has benefited the economy of the
United States as well as the richness of our cultural weave. And, they have brought their native foods,
meaning it is no longer necessary to travel abroad to have a taste of foreign
food, a benefit for all arm chair travelers.
This varied menu was on full display at the International Night at Our
Lady of Victory Catholic Church in Paris, an event to raise money for the
church’s food pantry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Homemade
ethnic food from nineteen countries lined the walls with recent immigrants next
to 4<sup>th</sup> generation cooks sharing old family recipes. Nigerians in bright shirts and dashikis
served pepper soup and moi moi made with black eye peas, a plentiful plant back
home. Luis Frick wore a Swiss flag t-shirt,
representing his mother’s heritage while sharing a hardy barley soup from his
father’s Lichtenstein. Oriel Carey
represented the growing Indian presence in Paris with popular dishes such as dhokla
and carrot halwa. And, Eddie Clement, the
lone American entrant, gave out corny dogs, claiming they were the only food
offered on a stick with at least two food families represented. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I went
quickly for Honduran food, having discovered their savory tamales years
ago. Native Daniela Leyva chose her
selections carefully. The nacatamales
are a traditional Christmas food, made with a blend of Spanish and Native foods
– corn, capers, olives, chickpeas all wrapped in fresh banana leaves purchased
in Dallas. An Honduran lasagna featured
beans, fresh cheese and plantains, imported through Daniela’s employer, MIC
Foods. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Daniela and
her husband, Carlos, moved to Lamar County from San Pedro Sula, Honduras in 2012 for his job with Prime
Harvest. As an expert in aquaculture,
Carlos assists with the company’s fish farm and Daniela works from home with
occasional inspection trips to food processing plants in Latin America. Their
two youngest children graduated from North Lamar and joined an older sibling at
UT Arlington. The family has loved the
ease of small town living and particularly enjoyed the friendliness of the
community. They were happy to share food
from their home country which ran out quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0n4DUESNbIUqnP_Lx6wNU93cavqzJBzh523IHJo6NG3BAtFIlXATlxginsmNNbuikXnXlUPW3TqMeiU6VXQOFPv53Et_bGC2yRqSygoLqZHgk33QNn2XHOWNxZxuIhlYNVtGM4tiQQ8/s1600/dinner4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0n4DUESNbIUqnP_Lx6wNU93cavqzJBzh523IHJo6NG3BAtFIlXATlxginsmNNbuikXnXlUPW3TqMeiU6VXQOFPv53Et_bGC2yRqSygoLqZHgk33QNn2XHOWNxZxuIhlYNVtGM4tiQQ8/s1600/dinner4.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Offerings from the Phillipines</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lines
rapidly formed for the large selection of Filipino offerings. Featured
were roasted Pig, sticky rice, egg
rolls, as well as dinuguan, a pork specialty cooked slowly and served with rice
cake. (Don’t ask about the ingredients
unless you really want to know.) Since
Paris now has over 30 families from the Philippines, many were dressed in
costume and helped serve and explain the dishes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">More
familiar were European offerings from Poland, France, Germany, Lichtenstein,
Italy, and Czech Republic. The classic boeuf
bourguignon from France, Italian meatballs, and corned beef and sauerkraut were
popular. Freshly made chicken taco
flautas and other Mexican favorites were available for the less adventuresome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Renee Iyaha stood
ready to serve Diri Djon-Djon or Black Rice from her native Haiti. Dark, dried mushrooms were soaked in water later
used to cook the rice. Other ingredients
included shrimp, scallions, garlic, thyme, and parsley, used for
flavoring. Guests that evening probably
didn’t realize they were sampling party food, served at Haitian family
gatherings, weddings and funerals.
Rounding out the meal were fried plantains and grio or fried pork. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Renee came
to be in Paris via New York where she lived for 16 years. Paris Regional Medical Center recruited her
to work as an RN in the coronary care unit.
As she reads of early snows up north, she is grateful to be in Texas
with no need of a snow shovel. And
despite being surprised at the early closings of stores, Renee has easily
adjusted to small town living. “No
problem at all,” was her comment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And, it was
no problem at all enjoying the rich selections from around the world. A shared meal, especially one filled with
homemade fare, brought us all together. And, in this world of fear and
suspicion, we need more of these occasions to recognize our common humanity and
the joy of cooking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-79782773798100272872015-11-14T08:12:00.001-08:002015-11-14T08:12:08.341-08:00Recreating Jerusalem in the Holy Land of Lalibela, Ethiopia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfXMxHu4NdlNktZiq5Bd-63vddmCjaqov8GJ5ocTXQmSCwpP5hnZPxH26OmwWd8vNLktaEIhdLSyfHPsDglI1UXQRzpeQKXmG9QzoFt7xpJF1NmjDnixTy6h6aVWyQWLuiZB02LkdqrI/s1600/2015-09-20+05.32.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfXMxHu4NdlNktZiq5Bd-63vddmCjaqov8GJ5ocTXQmSCwpP5hnZPxH26OmwWd8vNLktaEIhdLSyfHPsDglI1UXQRzpeQKXmG9QzoFt7xpJF1NmjDnixTy6h6aVWyQWLuiZB02LkdqrI/s320/2015-09-20+05.32.29.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ethiopian Orthodox Priest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Faith is important in Ethiopia, whether it’s Christianity or
Islam. The Ethiopian Orthodox Church
claims over 44% of the country’s population, Evangelical Christians another 19%
and Islam about 35%. Churches and
mosques stand in almost every community and it’s often difficult for visitors to
distinguish the call to prayer from early morning Orthodox chanting. Public schools celebrate holidays of both
major religions and relations have been generally cordial through recent
years. Yet, it is the ancient orthodox
practice that has the strongest grip on the northern part of the country where
white clad men and women exhibit their faith throughout the countryside. And, nowhere was that more prevalent than in
Lalibela, to the north of Addis Ababa, in the heart of the beautiful Amhara Plateau.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7umZPvToC-7wH_5dpkg7X_xfbdzrnLRFV-tneWqCIZOSUFz03A8v_VoetfRgq1EXGOJeOXuLKWyfHa_PxNa8g2UuxHZBRhcAxTsjF4lAK6gO2xefANmF7ru-2ChNzq1zHj-bQD1Benu8/s1600/2015-09-21+06.47.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7umZPvToC-7wH_5dpkg7X_xfbdzrnLRFV-tneWqCIZOSUFz03A8v_VoetfRgq1EXGOJeOXuLKWyfHa_PxNa8g2UuxHZBRhcAxTsjF4lAK6gO2xefANmF7ru-2ChNzq1zHj-bQD1Benu8/s320/2015-09-21+06.47.06.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. George's Church in Lalibela, Ethiopia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The traditional story of Lalibela’s creation is almost a
fairly tale. A Christian king
recognizes his people cannot make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem and decides to
bring Christianity’s home place to his people.
It is believed that in the 12<sup>th</sup> century, King Lalibela had a
God-inspired dream to recreate the Holy Land in Ethiopia. Over the next 23 years eleven rock hewn churches
were carved <b>below</b> ground by hammer
and chisel and given Jerusalem names. Worshipers
could attend churches with holy auras such as House of Mount Sinai or Golgotha. A stream was even renamed the River
Jordan. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCO-QwLSc5k_7CvNhco-wWCow9G9n8YSBovs_897oBZ9MoOBvk5nuCpIhESC-wgJ3qmkJ2K57sbiTErrIuy8MxDLUwBzxtt-irXkHWSdlLltYXteephNAyT9Avf-4w1egJILdNOALT4HI/s1600/2015-09-20+04.41.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCO-QwLSc5k_7CvNhco-wWCow9G9n8YSBovs_897oBZ9MoOBvk5nuCpIhESC-wgJ3qmkJ2K57sbiTErrIuy8MxDLUwBzxtt-irXkHWSdlLltYXteephNAyT9Avf-4w1egJILdNOALT4HI/s320/2015-09-20+04.41.27.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deacon Muchaw Derebe </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Wearing blue rim sunglasses, enthusiasm and a bright smile,
Muchaw Derebe guided us through the wonderland of Lalibela’s stone churches,
designated a UNESCO world heritage site in 1978. As the son of an orthodox
priest and a deacon himself, Muchaw offered a unique perspective of his native
town – one that had grown tenfold from a village of 2,000 to an emerging
tourist destination of 20,000. Despite the increase in visitors, churches are
still very much in use offering home parishes to residents of Lalibela. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjH4wIlsaMdw2PRrLrl34GEXM3gq3GfxTYFFVCWrZ4gE7n9Cemd_4X15hqCMho0DHKKAzx_YvXzt0ChpBrzHs3mBpJQDf9Lv-JIE_GZw_liznxHz4vrhiCazoVsmzic0j5JZVGOQyqBQ/s1600/2015-09-20+21.15.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjH4wIlsaMdw2PRrLrl34GEXM3gq3GfxTYFFVCWrZ4gE7n9Cemd_4X15hqCMho0DHKKAzx_YvXzt0ChpBrzHs3mBpJQDf9Lv-JIE_GZw_liznxHz4vrhiCazoVsmzic0j5JZVGOQyqBQ/s320/2015-09-20+21.15.41.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shoes Outside Church in Lalibela</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Shoes were removed as we entered each church based on God’s
instruction to Moses to take off his shoes when standing on holy ground. Many
kiss the outer wall before walking into the initial chanting room where priests
pray before services. Orthodox churches contain
strong Jewish roots – men and women stand apart and enter from different sides
of the church. A curtain covers the
communion table which will be drawn back for services. Behind is the Holy of Holies, a site open
only to priests and deacons, where the tabot or replica of the Ten Commandments
is kept. At all hours a priest is present, available for blessings. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_7I_Z6Td_KShE7Fu3xg4o26Ox1k_35OQaLEysdzcxG4SMVDVLTsbW5_LMiUX9S8p88Tpvn-YYjCHgpoa1BWLVfg0qpmuXC-kU5ueDzOPOYT2EW8YiL3lYvOgotzWJUV3D1J4ArjzQV4/s1600/2015-09-20+05.34.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_7I_Z6Td_KShE7Fu3xg4o26Ox1k_35OQaLEysdzcxG4SMVDVLTsbW5_LMiUX9S8p88Tpvn-YYjCHgpoa1BWLVfg0qpmuXC-kU5ueDzOPOYT2EW8YiL3lYvOgotzWJUV3D1J4ArjzQV4/s320/2015-09-20+05.34.16.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prayer Sticks in Lalibela</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Occasionally, Muchaw would
pick up a drum and chant lightly or insist that we try out a prayer stick, used
for support during the long three hour services. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Some of the churches are still attached to the mountain with
the rest free standing. All require a
walk down as well as treks through narrow pathways and tunnels that connect
houses of worship. One building named
Bethlehem provides space for priests and deacons to prepare communion bread,
later carried through the labyrinth to different churches. Occasional baptismal
pools were available and even a pond filled with papyrus, used with other
grasses to welcome visitors in the churches – just as Jesus was welcomed in
Jerusalem. It was all highly symbolic
and Muchaw could provide the hidden meaning.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYe1gXMC8xO7mLO11AbmRxpdHrtRBX4iDIaN_w5bq_BZd_Eq_whVdnaxe8S5lXVf0gFSJU4gZte7FVQmkEzjoGu_U0kg_U6JRRLoBpCJTOKbkO6RLA-4BjRYVNdtt01cHuIwydIe16KU/s1600/2015-09-20+21.17.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYe1gXMC8xO7mLO11AbmRxpdHrtRBX4iDIaN_w5bq_BZd_Eq_whVdnaxe8S5lXVf0gFSJU4gZte7FVQmkEzjoGu_U0kg_U6JRRLoBpCJTOKbkO6RLA-4BjRYVNdtt01cHuIwydIe16KU/s320/2015-09-20+21.17.41.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women listening to Scripture on Holy Cross Day<br />
Lalibela, Ethiopia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvMS1offOtmO83J-q5StfOEMcyAj6pduE32RP-2paG1I6Odd5zmd9ipvt3m2GCZmNUHbgSVPE_XEEHPmVu_91JjRavDua9stORk7D4GFnMYgn7yYApmtdVq4mLUHaTUoReG4NviX97UI/s1600/2015-09-20+21.23.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvMS1offOtmO83J-q5StfOEMcyAj6pduE32RP-2paG1I6Odd5zmd9ipvt3m2GCZmNUHbgSVPE_XEEHPmVu_91JjRavDua9stORk7D4GFnMYgn7yYApmtdVq4mLUHaTUoReG4NviX97UI/s320/2015-09-20+21.23.08.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drums and Timbrels being played outside<br />
Holy Cross Church, Lalibela Ethiopia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Our visit coincided with Holy Cross Day – a surprise since
we had just celebrated that event on September 14 at Holy Cross Episcopal
church in Paris. Since the Ethiopian calendar doesn’t correlate with the
Gregorian calendar, we celebrated it again.
Muchaw picked us up early and brought us netelas, white cloth worn by
women for services. We approached the
Holy Cross church where worshipers stood and sat on the ground above the
church. On the opposite rim, a priest
read from the Bible in Ge’ez, the ancient Ethiopian language and later explained
the reading in Amharic, its current language.
Below, a U-shaped gathering of priests and deacons had been chanting outside
since 5 a.m. with aid of slow drums and timbrels, tambourine like instruments. All knew the words by heart and Muchaw
couldn’t help but participate in this very biblical setting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cepfzr1b9t1Juw55rUgRcuGOQ8MVDwGZSVDMVkCbTZIRvcKELd2ixKuCJTGruAhGknYMeEgYPdDmXhrlOcHbFqqUV3htn_Hxgx1SB_gUnIFwpr3624KzOu9Bv1S1MR1rouLZTYlyqkE/s1600/2015-09-21+02.39.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cepfzr1b9t1Juw55rUgRcuGOQ8MVDwGZSVDMVkCbTZIRvcKELd2ixKuCJTGruAhGknYMeEgYPdDmXhrlOcHbFqqUV3htn_Hxgx1SB_gUnIFwpr3624KzOu9Bv1S1MR1rouLZTYlyqkE/s320/2015-09-21+02.39.23.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baptism in Lalibela, Ethiopia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We later happened on to a baptism of a baby girl outside a
church in the shelter of a cave opening, attended by women of the family. The priest blessed a pitcher of water and poured
it onto the naked child in a plastic tub, causing a healthy cry. The women sang
their high pitched ululations in joy. After the baby was dried, the priest
playfully splashed holy water onto the women and children standing nearby. The family men did not attend and were
apparently at home, preparing for the approaching celebration.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Fs5BHX3GVp42J1cBqRekzy3pHpfhICK4HXOK8j4NKRhq9wGqC0ky4LyuIUb1o9sJAQaTc8pP2u2-Atxu1obsCJrFHHKGsVGfQoFSerx6gJgfr7ZEWZdAFyBZE5rOlnXZmUOl9Rdrwpg/s1600/2015-09-20+21.44.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Fs5BHX3GVp42J1cBqRekzy3pHpfhICK4HXOK8j4NKRhq9wGqC0ky4LyuIUb1o9sJAQaTc8pP2u2-Atxu1obsCJrFHHKGsVGfQoFSerx6gJgfr7ZEWZdAFyBZE5rOlnXZmUOl9Rdrwpg/s320/2015-09-20+21.44.57.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Throughout our time in the Holy Land of Lalibela, we saw few
tourists and many locals.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The spiritual
life of Orthodox Ethiopia was on full display.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">But as more hotels are built and roads newly constructed with Chinese
help, visitor numbers will increase.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We
can only hope that it can continue to be a site that is astonishing in its
construction, beautiful in location and holy in its use.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
</div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-77577935876385195912015-10-25T14:02:00.000-07:002015-10-25T14:02:04.339-07:00Eighteen Hours in Dubai via Emirates Airlines<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXhq9r_hoX8Kkt9NyH6Qn4k3l-uJb5CkwB6TePwCbycYlZeisZlvP5GUYi8ahdUzq35koUUkrVxMQKqeHPx0JHfa-X0Ri2bSFcULmIfSdcSrFBQmX8HqJK7px8l6WMk_w7rRpPLoN95g/s1600/2015-09-17+05.37.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXhq9r_hoX8Kkt9NyH6Qn4k3l-uJb5CkwB6TePwCbycYlZeisZlvP5GUYi8ahdUzq35koUUkrVxMQKqeHPx0JHfa-X0Ri2bSFcULmIfSdcSrFBQmX8HqJK7px8l6WMk_w7rRpPLoN95g/s320/2015-09-17+05.37.42.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyf6aoEy76rbpzVeSBpdmg0zXsJeaFPdFi0_HUG1BkQPeB-CLNOIvMAG4Hyqps3lurLGBZsZyJ_BotGxvxPzYvgCm0cnVvUfshxceSx4zxDqDEsWenPzYcx0YPymI7xJcLh8frkRI8zPY/s1600/2015-09-17+07.49.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyf6aoEy76rbpzVeSBpdmg0zXsJeaFPdFi0_HUG1BkQPeB-CLNOIvMAG4Hyqps3lurLGBZsZyJ_BotGxvxPzYvgCm0cnVvUfshxceSx4zxDqDEsWenPzYcx0YPymI7xJcLh8frkRI8zPY/s320/2015-09-17+07.49.32.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I once had a Dallas friend suggest going to DFW Airport in
the mornings just to watch the Emirates Airlines Dubai-DFW flight land. The airline uses the Airbus A380 for its long
distance hauls, the giant of all commercial planes that seems to lumber onto
the runway. It can hold 550 passengers
and the wingspan snugly fits into a football field. I
always wondered who flew that exotic route until their fares got cheap and an
opportunity beckoned. For under $900, we
booked tickets to Ethiopia with an overnight stay in Dubai.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The flight between DFW and Dubai is long – 14 ½ hours going
and 16 hours returning. Yet, the Airbus
offered a great movie selection and a surprising amount of room, even in the
economy section. Plentiful bathrooms
with soft lighting, adjustable water temperature, wood trim and faux marble
countertops were available. Food menus
offered Middle East and western choices. Emirates Airlines has a force of 13,000
international attendants, all living in Dubai.
Only about 300 are Americans. On
the flight going, we had representatives from twelve countries, including the
United Kingdom, Ukraine, Singapore and Australia. This diffusion of work among “foreigners”
would be typical of everywhere we went in Dubai. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQZR6vTO9Oli5pTq_UAVM2V_VwOG0YwQ39mYm9a5CTvrFFSsZTJWgmBVJIx7_BfT8v4rr6pWPu4CDlMvEi5-edg8U33wFqLV141ucgYDK4ngSWs-zdGYG_cqAf5zxBLk-1AW0xMJvh4Y/s1600/2015-09-17+05.44.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQZR6vTO9Oli5pTq_UAVM2V_VwOG0YwQ39mYm9a5CTvrFFSsZTJWgmBVJIx7_BfT8v4rr6pWPu4CDlMvEi5-edg8U33wFqLV141ucgYDK4ngSWs-zdGYG_cqAf5zxBLk-1AW0xMJvh4Y/s320/2015-09-17+05.44.18.jpg" width="240" /></a>Thanks to our American passports, customs at the Dubai
airport was almost a wave through, requiring only a photo of our iris to be
taken. The taxi driver to our hotel was
Pakistani, as were the rest of our drivers.
Another taxi ride took us to Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the
world, opened in 2010. It is located in
the Dubai Mall built in 2008. To make
our 4:30 appointment, we had to hurry through the huge shopping arena filled
with familiar stores such as The Pottery Barn, Gap and Banana Republic. Yet, scores of gold stores and Arabic women’s
clothing offerings confirmed our presence in one of the Arabian world’s great shopping
cities.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0bbrt4twJxNx7DSFrZjUOEs6IhOon75Bs0LLADcDST3VOmZJhbO1fxQxTxQsollUurJQwbexeAZOeU9j4CcKxHkNV1uat3R9aqPJATgmdklrFT8A2WaZNQJmFRDGFb4gYv6O6YI6bjM/s1600/2015-09-17+06.11.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0bbrt4twJxNx7DSFrZjUOEs6IhOon75Bs0LLADcDST3VOmZJhbO1fxQxTxQsollUurJQwbexeAZOeU9j4CcKxHkNV1uat3R9aqPJATgmdklrFT8A2WaZNQJmFRDGFb4gYv6O6YI6bjM/s320/2015-09-17+06.11.30.jpg" width="320" /></a>The crowd going up the Burj Khalifa was a mix of foreigners,
mostly independent travelers. The only tour
I saw was of Chinese. A smooth one
minute elevator ride ascended, gently stopping at the 124<sup>th</sup> floor. Viewing was available inside and out. The best weather in Dubai begins in October
with clear skies. Unfortunately, our
September visit was still during days of dust storms. Visibility was adequate for about two miles,
allowing us to take in the wonder of Dubai architecture but not the famous Palm
Islands built into the Persian Gulf. In
the distant, the Burj Al Arab, the world’s only seven star hotel, appeared to
be sailing through the dust. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmy4iIZpeIf-Z0_inNHuLwLbhiQUgMvkyk3k6SH7UZkMfwcyS-IwxOw5Qx-k0d8Rjg990FWgq5-R8TwaVsmG4Yf2NZC6p7ONoMNu8pPraVJPNmPr5kvNLQYmtvHHfkRlIoYQP4tNJnty0/s1600/2015-09-17+05.45.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmy4iIZpeIf-Z0_inNHuLwLbhiQUgMvkyk3k6SH7UZkMfwcyS-IwxOw5Qx-k0d8Rjg990FWgq5-R8TwaVsmG4Yf2NZC6p7ONoMNu8pPraVJPNmPr5kvNLQYmtvHHfkRlIoYQP4tNJnty0/s320/2015-09-17+05.45.03.jpg" width="320" /></a>Telescopes were available for real time viewing but also revealed
the land before development – a scant 10 to 15 years ago. Until 2004, when <b><span style="background: white; color: #252525; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 8.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum</span></b> decided to make his
country into a business showpiece, the barren desert reached up to the
shores. Since then, constructions cranes
can hardly keep up with the building. At
one point, Dubai had one-fourth of the world’s cranes working on its
development. Despite the added hotels,
the average price is still $300 per night, going as high as $1600 for a night
at the Burj Al Arab.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our glasses fogged up from the heat when we stepped onto the
balcony area of the Khalifa. Selfies dominated
as visitors of all ages and colors wanted photos of their faces silhouetted
against building tops and hazy sky. Narrow
windows were available for those who wanted to slip cameras through and take
pictures without glare of the glass. Upon return to earth, we heard a call to
prayer in the mall but without many apparent takers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our next Pakistani taxi driver provided inside information
on living in Dubai. Workers from
different countries self-segregate in housing and even in sending their
children to schools with their own teachers.
They won’t combine into a public school , he said, as religion must be
taught there. Most Pakistani workers
are men and don’t have family in Dubai because of the expense. The population
of the United Arab Emirates is about three million native born and six million
foreigners.</div>
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We arrived at the Dubai Museum in the tiny historical area
that has been preserved. Located in the
oldest building in town, the fort museum is well done and takes you from Bedoin
tents to modern architecture. A video documented
changes in the city by decades. And a
display of 3,000 year old pottery found in the area confirmed the location’s
long history of trade. A free Koran was
given at the museum’s exit.<br />
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We had hoped to make the gold souk but lack of sleep caught
up with us. Instead, we walked the
streets near our hotel, filled with gold stores, each store filled with
buyers. Dubai was an early trading
center for jewels beginning with pearls but now gold dominates. Prices were by the ounce but we weren’t in
the market – at least not that night.
But it had been a beautiful introduction to Dubai’s offerings and maybe
there will be another chance, especially if Emirates Airlines stays
competitive.</div>
</div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-48704468325653704142015-10-22T09:10:00.000-07:002015-10-22T09:10:07.572-07:00Celebrating Meskel in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia with young Rotarians<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErMocnH4WAEn2c6WJk-jYeIcUEoy5zRQ7Ji4TmxDgmNacEv9jNtUgN_AQ3a_DZqJsdMPC6qEkB-p3CambIury7wbNK2pLDo6Wj2_2Z5j09K_tJzABrAxwP9ptIaOE5wGqanh5gcAjVGw/s1600/2015-09-27+08.00.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErMocnH4WAEn2c6WJk-jYeIcUEoy5zRQ7Ji4TmxDgmNacEv9jNtUgN_AQ3a_DZqJsdMPC6qEkB-p3CambIury7wbNK2pLDo6Wj2_2Z5j09K_tJzABrAxwP9ptIaOE5wGqanh5gcAjVGw/s320/2015-09-27+08.00.09.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonfire built in center of Meskel Square</td></tr>
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In Ethiopia, the word meskel has a triple meaning. It refers to a beautiful yellow daisy that
blooms in September. Flying into Ethiopia’s
capital, Addis Ababa, fields of the golden flowers were visible from the
air. On a spiritual level, meskel means
cross in Ge’ez, the ancient language of the Ethiopian Orthodox church. The final understanding of Meskel is the
festival held in September to celebrate the finding of the true cross in the
fourth century AD by Queen Helena, mother of Constantine, First Christian Roman
Emperor. Tradition holds smoke from a bonfire in Jerusalem led Helena to find
the cross on which Jesus was crucified.
Parts of this cross are claimed in churches throughout Europe and
Ethiopia’s remnants are kept in the Gishen Mariam monastery to the north of
Addis.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRI9PJjfP1m2PlvmN7NJ-Gid9NG38zw5-fRihWBzR0VE2xm9ItBJn570FAhY3UqhZJCkWaRToLBCK0XzI8pESR8cmlzLwAA8fhJKnv2s0rw0mwDkCofT3EJWWv5HOnGq2NukaqdjQNRLM/s1600/2015-09-27+07.54.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRI9PJjfP1m2PlvmN7NJ-Gid9NG38zw5-fRihWBzR0VE2xm9ItBJn570FAhY3UqhZJCkWaRToLBCK0XzI8pESR8cmlzLwAA8fhJKnv2s0rw0mwDkCofT3EJWWv5HOnGq2NukaqdjQNRLM/s200/2015-09-27+07.54.06.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Priests and Deacons enter Meskel Square with choirs</td></tr>
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We knew our last day in Ethiopia coincided with the Meskel
Holiday. It is celebrated throughout
the country but in Addis Ababa, the large Meskel amphitheater shaped square
fills each year with half a million devotees who await the setting of the sun
when candles are lit and a bonfire or demera ignited. Atop the giant pyre are meskel flowers and
inside a cross will burn. The direction
of its collapse brings various predictions for the year. Most tourists watch the festivities from specially
built stands but thanks to a fun group of young Rotarians, our experience was standing
for three hours in the back of the square, surrounded by Ethiopians of </div>
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various
hues but of the same ilk.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheidyGy1909kuyAYRjPGee3kmpoqgUiENJPnirJG11XJA0Tu-BpiPg78R38b0aXKyDpTneLittBIuwHsEMxanmOrJbK_bJZrawiioAXrF_fasMw1WM4U2CrhB9LtD9tBJun0F43KvuBl8/s1600/2015-09-27+05.57.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheidyGy1909kuyAYRjPGee3kmpoqgUiENJPnirJG11XJA0Tu-BpiPg78R38b0aXKyDpTneLittBIuwHsEMxanmOrJbK_bJZrawiioAXrF_fasMw1WM4U2CrhB9LtD9tBJun0F43KvuBl8/s320/2015-09-27+05.57.45.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tina Langham Smith with Hiruy Zemichael and Semeone Tegegne and other <br />members of<br />newest Rotary Club in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia</td></tr>
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Hiruy Zemichael and
Semeone Tegegne picked us up at 3 p.m.
They are members of the newest Rotary Club in Addis, one of ten in the
city. Their club is bilingual, meaning
they will conduct the meeting in English if there are any visitors. I was sure they had studied abroad as their
conversation made easy reference to American colloquial expressions such as “what’s
happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas” and they could express dismay at the
idea of a Donald Trump presidency. I was
assured their fluency resulted from hours of watching American movies,
comedians and reading English books and newspapers. </div>
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Through the evening more Rotarians joined us including Ruth
Dressiegn, who had just returned from New York where she spoke to a UN
committee on the need for more youth to be involved in the sustainability
project currently being considered. Another
young woman, Rahel Getachew, will travel to the U.S. soon to represent all of
Africa’s Rotaryact clubs. The club
members were all educated, working in technical fields as well as social
services. And, all wanted us to
understand the Meskel event and its significance for the country.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQxf10LysMCGJdLSGSFFsEFSiKOgLbZ1G6ZVOUFh8nbWyWT2sg3LQNcWKpE1lrJN1kzoAY-zSomKLVdaRyIAsAM2ewhlAp5sMnb4ep2Rkc2xI8zePDGEzn5i5dxLsB-JVR7FQQEtGgkc/s1600/2015-09-27+07.39.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQxf10LysMCGJdLSGSFFsEFSiKOgLbZ1G6ZVOUFh8nbWyWT2sg3LQNcWKpE1lrJN1kzoAY-zSomKLVdaRyIAsAM2ewhlAp5sMnb4ep2Rkc2xI8zePDGEzn5i5dxLsB-JVR7FQQEtGgkc/s400/2015-09-27+07.39.53.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prelates of the Ethiopian Orthodox and Coptic Orthodox Church with<br />Dr. Mulatu Teshome, president of Ethiopia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Streets closings made easy walking as we approached the
square and candles were distributed. The square had almost filled even though we
arrived an hour early. A large military
presence watched from strategic points as fire trucks and ambulances awaited
the call. Large open space in the middle would later welcome bands, church
choirs, veterans, and rows of priests and deacons. A large central viewing platform held an
impressive array of dignitaries - Abune Mathias, 6<sup>th</sup> Prelate of the
Ethiopian Orthodox Church, Teodros II, 118<sup>th</sup> Pope of the Coptic
Orthodox church in Egypt, and Dr. Mulatu Teshome, president of Ethiopia.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaC1sofuWNW7MH3KtFOzUX0c0POgYW6O2IP6WgY86nI2VTc3RiX00qB71HFwm4Ig2zSj18IMWHp1J_olC3km3t0fCrRukyaJT8hvrWlFvcOy2EK570wa3XgF8Pv2AP1ns3GV7yccpYgpI/s1600/2015-09-27+07.49.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaC1sofuWNW7MH3KtFOzUX0c0POgYW6O2IP6WgY86nI2VTc3RiX00qB71HFwm4Ig2zSj18IMWHp1J_olC3km3t0fCrRukyaJT8hvrWlFvcOy2EK570wa3XgF8Pv2AP1ns3GV7yccpYgpI/s320/2015-09-27+07.49.49.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQq6MLFqjbsnNL0WfWPOnYuv4KhIff_x1uVDHym9vlIIfr3re9dlSI1HmUsQAG885eRWjfJ06ks14TWWz9u9ARvc_UbCgLHgp2NQ-3UwNGyFtzKwGJgikRbJoF0nwWxfGHUjgSxZGebo/s1600/2015-09-27+08.20.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQq6MLFqjbsnNL0WfWPOnYuv4KhIff_x1uVDHym9vlIIfr3re9dlSI1HmUsQAG885eRWjfJ06ks14TWWz9u9ARvc_UbCgLHgp2NQ-3UwNGyFtzKwGJgikRbJoF0nwWxfGHUjgSxZGebo/s200/2015-09-27+08.20.55.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Through the darkening late afternoon, waves of chanting,
swaying, dancing choirs passed in front of the stage. Floats reflected the story of Queen Helena’s
discovery of the true cross. Those with hearing
disability performed their sign language.
Occasionally, the crowd sang and clapped along with well-known chants. And, a marching band complete with tubas and
brass melded into the big parade. It was
a beautiful blend of a mass at St. Peter’s square in Rome and Macy’s
Thanksgiving parade.</div>
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Since I couldn’t see easily over the crowd, I relied on photos and
movies taken by Semeone to enjoy the details below. I could hear the Patriarchs and President talking. Amazingly, their speeches were translated into
English. President Teshome talked of
Egypt and Ethiopia being joined by the Nile River. The Ethiopian Patriarch spoke of love between
the orthodox communities. There was even
mention of climate change and separation of church and state. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqi1zCxAq0tLp5sZeuZXwHaxrfLu_jJQC3Nf56auD0fKFE8BbGSdMvqKO9ns7pwZ8dEh0d_I87Y8WZFTPxsVj4wrjCyjylevKzeuieLI6nJjqRwOn7beed6f5b8ajB4_z6KlB_yvxRVTY/s1600/2015-09-27+08.30.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqi1zCxAq0tLp5sZeuZXwHaxrfLu_jJQC3Nf56auD0fKFE8BbGSdMvqKO9ns7pwZ8dEh0d_I87Y8WZFTPxsVj4wrjCyjylevKzeuieLI6nJjqRwOn7beed6f5b8ajB4_z6KlB_yvxRVTY/s200/2015-09-27+08.30.52.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0iEm7kWp2oE-SZns5owhlgkPFUiK1HOCmnKHIPFCM-eV4LYHlKljvFLqXSUUdpW6oddWvG163JLpGUFAH10lqp2c6T_oni76BaQ0ebRRJoWK0d0gR5C4poJgEJMpJ7roskw5hxLrNDk/s1600/2015-09-27+08.39.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0iEm7kWp2oE-SZns5owhlgkPFUiK1HOCmnKHIPFCM-eV4LYHlKljvFLqXSUUdpW6oddWvG163JLpGUFAH10lqp2c6T_oni76BaQ0ebRRJoWK0d0gR5C4poJgEJMpJ7roskw5hxLrNDk/s200/2015-09-27+08.39.03.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_-TMkCQLB6TiT14ylmg0Rdz12Lrjyz9q7rirMrURnAS5tJyn0X4-ZD5E8S5Gv9iqv3DTJl8C9GOXDR4p5Xx6nsKVZASZ7VdOQeixYr2AAQs-B9yo7QXOybJGNO2_R1zadqa1y6VgV-0/s1600/2015-09-27+08.51.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_-TMkCQLB6TiT14ylmg0Rdz12Lrjyz9q7rirMrURnAS5tJyn0X4-ZD5E8S5Gv9iqv3DTJl8C9GOXDR4p5Xx6nsKVZASZ7VdOQeixYr2AAQs-B9yo7QXOybJGNO2_R1zadqa1y6VgV-0/s200/2015-09-27+08.51.17.jpg" width="150" /></a>In the early evening dark, our candles were lit from
neighbor to neighbor, a process that began at one end of the square and swept
across the crowd like a moon rising.
Patriarch Mathias slowly walked to the bonfire, circled and lit it,
creating an immediate heart of flames amongst us. For the moment, all were united in its light.</div>
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The spell was broken as our Rotary friends protected us from
the large crowd exiting. On the walk
back, they described the meal their extended families would share the next day
with traditional food and how all would dress in white. Their homes would have small bonfires as
would most hotels and restaurants. One suggested
it was similar to our Thanksgiving Day gatherings. </div>
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The Meskel celebration is one of Ethiopia’s finest. We were lucky to join this 1600 year old
tradition, guided by a new generation of Ethiopians. It was a wonderful fusion of old and new and
Ethiopia should be proud of both.</div>
</div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-24649274587785827352015-10-03T07:30:00.000-07:002015-10-03T07:30:07.397-07:00Encountering Modern Day Diasporas in My Travels<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Palestinian/Jordanian guide on the right who carried a key to<br />
his home in Israel around his neck</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The Greek
word, diaspora, means a scattering and is used to describe the movement of a
population from its original homeland. Today,
the word implies an added layer of meaning of a people being expelled or forced
out involuntarily from their native country with a hope or desire to return
someday. Truthfully, I had always
associated the word with the Jewish people but in my travels and research, I
have encountered it in other countries including Cuba, Ethiopia and with the
Palestinians.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hundreds of
years ago, the Jewish tribes experienced just such a dispersion beginning with
the Assyrian exile from the Kingdom of Israel in 733 BCE. The
Romans had no tolerance for their insurrection and expelled them in 70 AD and
again in 135 AD. By 500 AD, there were Jewish settlements as
far north as Cologne, Germany and across to Babylon (modern day Iraq). Only after World War II did this expansion of
settlements contract with the establishment of Israel in 1949. Today, all members of the Jewish Diaspora
(spelled with a capital D) have the right to return to Israel and be a citizen.
Millions have claimed this right. Their history is so important to Israel that
the Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv is known as the Diaspora Museum and
details this story.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">As the
Jewish community returned to Israel, Palestinians suffered their own diaspora
during and after the 1948 War of Independence for Israel. 800,000 Palestinians left in fear of the
fighting but with the hope of returning.
Jordan took in the greatest number and today has over 3 million
Palestinians living in its border. Our
driver in Jordan was Palestinian. Around
his neck, he carried the key to his family home in Israel. When his family fled to escape the fighting,
they were not allowed to return. He
became very animated when we touched on the subject of the partition of Israel,
wondering why some land couldn’t be set aside for the Palestinian people. Some Palestinians still live in refugee camps
in Lebanon and millions more are scattered throughout the world including a
quarter million in the United States and 500,000 in Chile.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The word for
diaspora in Spanish is spelled the same as English with only an accent added
over the first letter a. I didn’t expect
to encounter it when we traveled to Cuba but I heard it several times. After
Fidel Castro came to power in 1959, over a million Cubans left, most with the
thought this government wouldn’t last long.
The great majority fled to South Florida and remain today, making up one-third
of the population of Miami. The night
before we left for Cuba, we ate dinner in “Little Havana” in Miami, getting a
taste of the great food we were to have on the island.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">From our
various taxi drivers in Cuba, to the five doormen at our hotel, our guides, and
communicants of the small Episcopal Church in Santa Cruz del Norte, we heard
story after story of family members who lived in Miami – those who had escaped
in time. One man described the
departure of all of his siblings but he remained to care for their elderly
mother. Another was forced into the
military and couldn’t leave although his brother did. With the opening of Cuba to its diasporan
members, it will be interesting to see if that initial desire to return
remains.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In 1974,
Haile Selassie was forced out of power by the military. As the new government consolidated control, many
Ethiopians were forced to leave. Two of those were Tewabech and Mac MeKonnen
who lived in Paris for 20 years. When we
recently had dinner with them, they used the word “diaspora” to describe all
the Ethiopians who left at that time. There
are 50,000 Ethiopians living in Dallas alone. And, when I learned my taxi
driver in Atlanta, Georgia was from Ethiopia, I told her I was going there
soon. She and her husband had also
escaped Ethiopia and made a home in Atlanta but wanted to return. Her husband was making plans to start a
business there and they hoped to emigrate back soon. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Anytime a
government changes violently, the ensuing chaos assures an exodus of citizens
fearing for their lives. The story of
the Syrian diaspora is, sadly, about to begin.
With widespread transportation, the scattering will extend around the
world as more countries take in the dispossessed. If other modern day diasporas are examples,
it may be a while before they return.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-15321606755468644352015-10-02T08:31:00.005-07:002015-10-02T08:31:59.212-07:00Homes of Ernest Hemingway and Eudora Welty Reveal Shared Qualities<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;">WRITERS’
HOMES MAKE INTERESTING DESTINATIONS</span><span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzTO3eVWJKg2DeajHAdwdp8lmWzsC5qEICPTIjX4CXH1plH5W2-KL2eyaQsPGar_WVamsNHhRJRPgrYqRqOX04pLxEKBq9iiOZgIby0WO3ayeXVBq0h5Y469twvou-n1BXV5xiL4o3mc/s1600/DSC01043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzTO3eVWJKg2DeajHAdwdp8lmWzsC5qEICPTIjX4CXH1plH5W2-KL2eyaQsPGar_WVamsNHhRJRPgrYqRqOX04pLxEKBq9iiOZgIby0WO3ayeXVBq0h5Y469twvou-n1BXV5xiL4o3mc/s400/DSC01043.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Ernest Hemingway's Home in Havana, Cuba</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">American
writers Ernest Hemingway and Eudora Welty never met although they were
contemporaries. Hemingway was only ten
years older and lived a dashing and frantic life for 62 years with homes and
wives around the world. Until her death at 92 years, Welty never married and
remained in the home where she was raised.
Yet, they shared some surprising habits as evidenced by tours of their
homes in Havana, Cuba and Jackson, Mississippi.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hemingway
spent his winters at Finca Vigia, fifteen miles east of Havana, where he
wrote “The Old Man and the Sea” and “For
Whom the Bell Tolls”. Our taxi driver
knew exactly where to go. As we
approached the residence through a tropical forest of flamboyan trees, urban
noises diminished. Perched on a hill with Havana in the distance, the house’s open
design allows a constant breeze to cool the island’s high humidity. Cuba confiscated the property in 1961 even
though Hemingway was on good terms with Fidel Castro. The home has been a major tourist attraction for
over 50 years. </span></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKH0j3WuEb5R8KyokZk3ODjYifb_LkY0hiLhBBkD5MpkN6A3ojdZDgwWvQCWr6wX-RDAT-k2nY42HqO5qLavka5knlGQtbNCi0ceRk7ketIubQTcANKKhxUFOHSg0P9fpUESBHRG9-Q7o/s1600/DSC01087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKH0j3WuEb5R8KyokZk3ODjYifb_LkY0hiLhBBkD5MpkN6A3ojdZDgwWvQCWr6wX-RDAT-k2nY42HqO5qLavka5knlGQtbNCi0ceRk7ketIubQTcANKKhxUFOHSg0P9fpUESBHRG9-Q7o/s200/DSC01087.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hemingway's Boat, Pilar in dry drock</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdI9QaulgcE3NVA89MMm5K7b7nS_ZEeZpc6sr-2y24oFOhTd0fZq3gPFbeqQrfVYn1nv6nck0mZOprOeCaYrQ1x8Lo6rEy0cnga2impAUyQAXGYwanDO1YfGpbuWzIBnAE7Wz7dTBCip8/s1600/DSC01092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdI9QaulgcE3NVA89MMm5K7b7nS_ZEeZpc6sr-2y24oFOhTd0fZq3gPFbeqQrfVYn1nv6nck0mZOprOeCaYrQ1x8Lo6rEy0cnga2impAUyQAXGYwanDO1YfGpbuWzIBnAE7Wz7dTBCip8/s200/DSC01092.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Visitors
are not allowed inside the home but from the large windows and doorways, it’s
easy to view Hemingway’s art collection, including bullfighting paintings and
posters, mounted gazelle and antelope
trophies, and his portrait with a downed African leopard. The furniture appears
comfortable and well-worn. The typewriter resides in the bedroom, chest high on
a bookcase where Hemingway wrote standing up. Outside, his fishing rods rest
upright in a rod holder, ready for use</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> while the famous boat, Pilar, hangs in
dry dock. We expected him to walk out
anytime on his way to the sea.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_h_nBaIjJ5daPHRQn7AkbPEdTzsk-1rjG81jKFUsHt02YaIxOvAACNXIwb5xb2iZP29TIGiLkQjO06zPnlF-vJeGPeBsbQVdvXm4FlylDY-HskNsrKxAUZf-orQOA3msrgIym_WBQYQ/s1600/Eudora+Welty+Home2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_h_nBaIjJ5daPHRQn7AkbPEdTzsk-1rjG81jKFUsHt02YaIxOvAACNXIwb5xb2iZP29TIGiLkQjO06zPnlF-vJeGPeBsbQVdvXm4FlylDY-HskNsrKxAUZf-orQOA3msrgIym_WBQYQ/s320/Eudora+Welty+Home2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of neighborhood from Eudroa Welty's home</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Eudora
Welty’s home is maintained as if she had just run to the grocery store. This was easy to do since Ms. Welty lived in
the home until her death in 2001. She
had already given her residence intact to the State of Mississippi in
1985. Located across the street from
Belhaven College and in a well kept neighborhood, this historic site is hard to
pick out from the neighbors. Inside,
rooms are cozy with a feel of your grandmother’s house. All of her books were written on a favorite
typewriter in the upstairs bedroom.
Spread across the dining room table, though, are white sheets of paper
with cut paragraphs pasted on them – the model for our current computer’s “cut
and paste” feature. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WRriv4-UNOp3agz6KpfVGmjCq1A-OTfUFX11Msk35sws3O3Snte6xM8Rd43-4bwNaJWyFsa1x5RWw5cuxyxLylVa35cHInKy_RB5ad1UPp4XIPLuEx5pE8KbDue6pbdccxCNMxZMcZc/s1600/DSC01050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WRriv4-UNOp3agz6KpfVGmjCq1A-OTfUFX11Msk35sws3O3Snte6xM8Rd43-4bwNaJWyFsa1x5RWw5cuxyxLylVa35cHInKy_RB5ad1UPp4XIPLuEx5pE8KbDue6pbdccxCNMxZMcZc/s320/DSC01050.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hemingway's bedroom with typewriter elevated for his<br />stand-up composition style</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hemingway
and Welty shared a love of books – 8000 for him and 5000 for her. In Welty’s home, books were literally
everywhere – on sofas, tables, bookshelves, and beds. Friends would have to move books from chairs
in order to sit. From descriptions of
visitors to Finca Vigia, Hemingway’s books were equally scattered in his day,
including large art books placed in a chair to support his ailing back. Today, his literary collection is neatly stored
in bookshelves in almost every room.
Welty must have been a fan of his as she had several Hemingway
biographies in her collection.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtABd3jPKi9ZtnIFHP_00rPiKYyh5j9lvoCKUJf0MIiPPcV47lnHW7v5anfHNTL0Xrqh9FQ1HDkxS-1cxKl18xMi3MT5Jf6QO2R2jO7nN305OxVZ3hyphenhyphendSNhLQoqScJ9L1QEN7WA2DTuk/s1600/Eudora+Welty+Home1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtABd3jPKi9ZtnIFHP_00rPiKYyh5j9lvoCKUJf0MIiPPcV47lnHW7v5anfHNTL0Xrqh9FQ1HDkxS-1cxKl18xMi3MT5Jf6QO2R2jO7nN305OxVZ3hyphenhyphendSNhLQoqScJ9L1QEN7WA2DTuk/s320/Eudora+Welty+Home1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Books scattered everywhere in<br />Eudora Welty's home</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Both
writers had literary friends. Welty’s
included our country’s best Southern writers – William Faulkner, Katherine Anne
Porter, Walker Percy, Flannary O’Connor.
In her home, a letter from British writer, E M Forester, reflects her
correspondence with those she admired.
Hemingway’s list drew from his time in Paris where he joined the elite
artist crowd around Gertrude Stein, James Joyce, Ezra Pound and even F. Scott
Fitzgerald.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Few
of his old friends joined Ernest in Cuba but those who did were treated to his
martinis and Cuban rum drinks. At his
home, Hemingway’s liquor bottles remain on a tray, some still open. On the grounds today, fresh pineapple is
crushed into juice and used to make daiquiris for sale to tourists. Eudora also partook occasionally of her
favorite bourbon, Makers Mark, stored in an open cabinet near the kitchen. She felt it kept the conversation flowing
with friends and enhanced her Christmas eggnog.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Welty
and Hemingway began as journalists, a position that taught Hemingway his famous
style of writing – short sentences and active verbs. Welty’s experience as a WPA photographer
sharpened her observational abilities which she used extensively in her
writing. Their writing styles are both
considered descendants of Mark Twain’s straight forward storytelling. Each
won Pulitzer Prizes (hers for “The Optimist’s Daughter and his “The Old Man and
the Sea” and Hemingway the Nobel Prize for literature in 1954. In his home, telegrams of congratulations
from Cuban friends, ministers and writers are displayed. Eudora had stored her
Pulitzer downstairs.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I
can only surmise that Welty and Hemingway would have enjoyed each other’s
company. Both loved to talk. It’s fun to imagine their conversation – full
of literary allusions, liberal causes, travel stories and fueled by a drink or
two. Visiting their homes makes that
image possible. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="http://eudorawelty.org/the-house/">Eudora Welty's Home</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #252525; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.hemingwaycuba.com/finca-la-vigia.html">Hemingway Home in Havana, Cuba</a></span></div>
</div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-29996353477732690672015-10-01T10:07:00.000-07:002015-10-01T18:32:50.457-07:00Touring The World of Coca-Cola and CNN in Atlanta, Georgia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK59nntaYkuYIFVpP2kG-GPl-OoVVrh8DtMC2z2AgW64AV0QsIU2j_TNP80Vu0A2O5mIxguq0-AE_SsHO5CMWoxSMGFFFuuCJiAIuYjEFQNAVf8ye_cdMg6jPqWuvLdUrKnAHHtnsYI20/s1600/coca+cola+headquarters1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK59nntaYkuYIFVpP2kG-GPl-OoVVrh8DtMC2z2AgW64AV0QsIU2j_TNP80Vu0A2O5mIxguq0-AE_SsHO5CMWoxSMGFFFuuCJiAIuYjEFQNAVf8ye_cdMg6jPqWuvLdUrKnAHHtnsYI20/s400/coca+cola+headquarters1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Corporate headquarter tours are not usually high on my list of
“Things to Do” in a new location.
However, Atlanta, Georgia is home to two companies that have an enormous
international presence. I run into them
all over the world and wanted to learn more of their “stories”. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">It’s hard to know what to call “The World of Coca Cola” - a
strange blend of a museum, theme park, and tasting room. Lines are long to visit its newest home,
opened in Centennial Park in 2007. </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;">Thanks to Coke’s long history of advertising, the venue played
on nostalgia by displaying old bottles, posters and ads.</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;">Inside, the first movie shown to all
visitors was a longer take of the feel good message shown before most films in
theaters.</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;">A room of past promotions
documented changing drink habits.</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;">An ad from
the 1950s suggested 16 oz of Coca Cola should serve three people.</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; line-height: 115%;">Today, that is a standard size drink for an
individual – possibly one source of our obesity problem.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Cheesiest by far was the dramatic revealing through a smoke
screen and flashing lights of the vault containing Coke’s secret formula. No mention
was made of the cocaine content in the original recipe nor the move to high fructose
corn syrup. One section contained hate mail received by the company in 1985 when
it tried to change the formula to New Coke, a move that lasted only 79 days
before Classic Coke was returned to the shelves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">A highlight for most visitors is the free tasting section with
coke products from around the world.
Over 100 dispensers provided
coke, lime, orange and root beer drinks made by subsidiaries,
representing a small portion of the 3500 beverages sold by the company. A new Coca Cola had just debuted, using sugar
again rather than corn syrup and will be sold in an environmentally friendly
green can. Truthfully, we couldn’t
discern a notable difference.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">The most interesting section displayed personal reflections of
“My Favorite Coca-Cola Moment” – sharing a coke with a child at summer baseball
games, father working in a factory and returning home with a coke, finding a
Coca Cola offered in the wilds of Africa.
The last story spoke to my experiences.
Since Coca-Cola is offered in every country in the world except Cuba and
North Korea, I’ve seen its ads
everywhere I’ve traveled. My husband’s
favorite story is the gentle tug-of-war with his sister-in-law in Tikal,
Guatemala in 1975 over the last cold Coca Cola at the restaurant. Before the pervasive availability of bottled
water, I drank Coke regularly in developing countries. It’s always a taste of home and a reminder of
American industry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfBURtwZU6IAzzcQjmPRFropHdS70GzAD8fAUk52vBDa71pnOKfZjmJg8sBZ6UuMzWH8yWXWDwDFzMcdhqBlCw5chzG-AhuBvS1gmKOAH-9eDz4sD4itzzxqJyHeL2bHNp2i3oegTtxk/s1600/coca+cola+headquarters2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfBURtwZU6IAzzcQjmPRFropHdS70GzAD8fAUk52vBDa71pnOKfZjmJg8sBZ6UuMzWH8yWXWDwDFzMcdhqBlCw5chzG-AhuBvS1gmKOAH-9eDz4sD4itzzxqJyHeL2bHNp2i3oegTtxk/s400/coca+cola+headquarters2.jpg" width="300" /></span></a><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">Also in Atlanta is the headquarters of CNN, first TV channel to
provide 24 hour news service and another company with strong international
presence. On the tour, the guide
emphasized its growth from 1.2 million viewers in 1980 to over 2 billion today
worldwide. In 1985, CNN International
began and is now in over 200 countries. Thanks
to satellites and its programming, I have checked Dallas weather from Vienna, Austria,
watched U.S. election returns in Cairo, Egypt,
and obtained basketball scores while recovering in a hospital in
Tegulcigalpa, Honduras. In a small,
windowless hotel room near the bus station in Pnohm Penh, Cambodia, a report on American oil prices on CNN brought
familiarity into a foreign world. It was
there before wifi and is more available even today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: small; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">No programs were in action on our visit but studios, research
desks, and a demonstration weather map were available for viewing. We learned meterologists can wear an
invisibility cloak to blend into the map.
Teleprompters carry 150 -175 words per minute of script. All writing must be approved which can take 8
hours or 5 minutes depending on how fast the news is breaking. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0u3FmGiX2rh9-b1fG0w21mXHK7PFIz-kNm_nNVGlhG_JBrff8QSHoFZtJiKgG9wxTAWkd6BUr2VEqqT6bghJkmoEg2PG8hZBR8H8MR44s-Bws1LpJaPuR8pftcog1N7KLtvvv_FhWbA/s1600/CNN+headquarters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0u3FmGiX2rh9-b1fG0w21mXHK7PFIz-kNm_nNVGlhG_JBrff8QSHoFZtJiKgG9wxTAWkd6BUr2VEqqT6bghJkmoEg2PG8hZBR8H8MR44s-Bws1LpJaPuR8pftcog1N7KLtvvv_FhWbA/s400/CNN+headquarters.jpg" width="300" /></span></a><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">In the news room, scores of screens flashed competitor’s news as
well as headline news of CNN (HLN). Some
screens reflected a stationary camera that continually films one location such
as Tahir Square in Cairo where action can form quickly. Several writers were eating lunch at their
desk and one clever employee had his tweet handle displayed on his desk for
tourists looking down on the news room.
Since most of the weekly news programs are filmed in New York City, I
had little chance of encountering my favorites, Anderson Cooper or Anthony Bordain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">With 35 bureaus around the world, CNN takes its newsgathering
seriously. Through CNN International,
HLN, CNN Espanol, and CNN Domestic, most of the world can watch developing
news. Networks have also been
established for Airports and for individual countries including Turkey, India,
Japan, Chile, and the Phillipines. It’s
no wonder I keep running into it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: medium; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;">For investors who want international presence without foreign
stocks, both Coca-Cola and CNN’s parent company, Time Warner, provide
this. Coke is 4<sup>th</sup> on the list
of World’s Most Valuable Brands and the only one in the top 5 that is not a
tech company. I’m not recommending
investments! But I am proud that these
two companies compete well internationally, providing me and millions of
traveling Americans a familiar experience.</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 6.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://www.worldofcoca-cola.com/">World of Coca Cola website</a></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.cnn.com/tour/">Web site for Tour of CNN in Atlanta, Ga.</a></div>
</div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-68033991872054763412015-08-18T12:58:00.000-07:002015-08-18T12:58:03.956-07:00Exploring the Civil Rights Movement in the South - 2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edmund Pettus Bridge, Selma Alabama</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">This is the
third of a three part series on a road trip through the South where we explored
the three Cs – Civil War, Civil Rights, and Southern Charm.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Civil
Rights movement of the 1960’s gave meaning to rights won 100 years before in
the Civil War. Despite passage of the thirteenth and fourteenth
amendments to the U.S. Constitution in the 1860’s to abolish slavery and to
prohibit state laws limiting the rights of citizens, Southern states managed to
bring back white privileges to the detriment of black citizens. Until the
civil rights movement gained momentum, African Americans in Paris were
segregated in schools, restrooms, water fountains, and couldn’t even eat in the
restaurant inside the Kress department store downtown. The energy and
grit behind the movement ignited in the heart of Dixie and no tour of the South
is complete without visiting some of the pivotal sites where individuals
bravely resisted inequality under the law.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thanks to
the movie, “Selma”, the effort to walk from Selma, Alabama to Montgomery in
1965 to protest voting rights limitations on blacks has been documented.
The 50<sup>th</sup> commemoration of this event had just been celebrated this
spring and memorabilia was still available for purchase. Together with a
small group of school children and an African American couple, we walked slowly
over the Alabama river on the Edmund Pettus bridge, ironically named after a
Confederate officer who fought at Vicksburg . It was only made a National
Historic Landmark in 2013 and seemed to best illustrate the road to equal
rights is won one step at a time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Montgomery,
Alabama surprised us. Despite having only one commemorative sign as
recently as 2000, the city has now embraced both its civil war and civil rights
past. Standing placards document events such as the telegram that started
the War Between the States and another where Rosa Parks refused to give up her
seat on a bus to boarding whites in 1955. At the Rosa Parks Museum, an
imaginary ride in a life size bus gives minute to minute details of Ms. Parks’
confrontation with state laws. Bus drivers at the time were quite
powerful and could wear guns. A black often had to pay his fare, walk
outside the bus to the back door, and pray the driver didn’t depart and leave
him stranded. Parks’ arrest led to the year-long Montgomery bus boycott
directed by Martin Luther King, Jr.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Dexter Avenue Baptist Church<br />
Montgomery, Alabama</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dr. King’s
involvement in the Boycott was fortuitous. At age 26, he was pastor of
the prestigious Dexter Avenue Baptist church, where many of Montgomery’s black
lawyers, physicians and teachers attended. Thanks to the presence of
Union soldiers after the Civil War, the church was able to get title to this
prime land just three blocks down Dexter Avenue from the state capitol.
Previous pastor, Vernon Johns, had been a fierce opponent of segregation,
meaning the congregation was prepped for action. Dr. King held tight to his
pacifist views but was also determined to see the boycott through. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">At the
Dexter Church, our tour guide, Reba, brought back the spirit of the
times. We began the tour singing “This Little Light of Mine” and ended it
encircled, holding hands with “We Shall Overcome”. In between, Reba
helped us understand how young Dr. King was when he arrived (25), how cars were
purchased and used by churches to transport black employees to their work, and
even the appearance at the church of former Governor George Wallace in 1979 who
apologized for the pain he caused during his tenure. Truthfully, it was
thrilling to stand at the pulpit and imagine a full house awaiting inspiration
from Dr. King. The church still is active but worried about the aging of
its congregation. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF15Nl-CIlIPfDmW_sTH9adelJeLSSf-tceVE1dAFXwd3mM4t_JgJKGJLVQf0zISQvHb1rGz991zBFwkwcXvSAqwXCLYVOqvd_F8Rr5tqJl80Yqx5ixOQPy7AYDvwUOiAQqHty1BuByZU/s1600/Civil+Rights+Memorial+in+Montgomery+Alabama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF15Nl-CIlIPfDmW_sTH9adelJeLSSf-tceVE1dAFXwd3mM4t_JgJKGJLVQf0zISQvHb1rGz991zBFwkwcXvSAqwXCLYVOqvd_F8Rr5tqJl80Yqx5ixOQPy7AYDvwUOiAQqHty1BuByZU/s320/Civil+Rights+Memorial+in+Montgomery+Alabama.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Civil Rights Memorial by Maya Lin</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An institution
I have long admired is also headquartered here. The Southern Poverty Law
Center directed much of the litigation needed to enforce the 1964 Civil Rights
Act and still pursues cases when needed. Across the street, the Center
commissioned a Civil Rights Memorial designed by Maya Lin, creator of the
Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C. The fountain, shaped as an
inverted cone, provides a poignant timeline of events from the 1954 Brown vs.
Board of Education decision to MLK’s assassination. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The greatest
testament to the Civil Rights Movement on our trip was the numbers of African
Americans in all strata of Southern life - businessmen in Atlanta, hotel
receptionists in Kennesaw, Georgia, bus drivers in Montgomery, TV cameramen at
CNN’s headquarters, teachers leading classes of school children on field trips,
diners in upscale restaurants and tourists themselves. We stopped
for dinner in Meridian, Mississippi where three northern civil rights
volunteers were killed by Klansman in 1964. What we found in 2015 was a
Thai restaurant filled with whites, blacks, Asians, and Hispanics. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Civil
Rights struggle will never be finished. Moslems, gays, and
immigrants face some of the same hatred and fears suffered by African
Americans. But a trip through the South gives perspective as well as hope
and encouragement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-38533268992685426332015-08-18T12:57:00.001-07:002015-08-18T12:57:38.274-07:00Visiting Civil War sites is Essential to Understanding the War<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Civil War Canon On Top of Kennesaw Mountain</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am
conflicted visiting Civil War sites. Had
I lived then, I hope I would not have owned slaves and would have voted against
secession. Yet, part of my heritage is
with the Confederacy. My grandmother
spoke with venom about the deadly prison where her Confederate soldier father
endured the war. Until her death, she
still used the word Yankees for Northerners as her eyes hardened. But a trip through the South requires at
least some stops at battlegrounds to give perspective on the terrain, battle
tactics and suffering of the soldiers.
We started with the Battle of Vicksburg, Mississippi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vicksburg lies
on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, immediately giving the
Confederates a ten-fold advantage to control the nation’s biggest river. The major east-west railroad passed through town
bringing to the South badly needed Arkansas hogs, Texas horses, and Mexican and
European imports. Northern General
Ulysses Grant had won 10 of his last 12 battles and knew he could cut off the
legs of Dixieland by winning Vicksburg.
General John Pemberton realized a loss at Vicksburg would be the
beginning of the end for the insurrection.
The battle began on May 18, 1863 and ended July 2<sup>nd</sup> with a
complete surrender by the Confederate Army.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At the large
Vicksburg National Military Park, roads wander through hill and dale with
markers indicating shifting battle lines.
In 1863, trees would have been leveled to provide open views for
snipers. Today, only part is
cleared. We used Michael Logue, a local
guide who provided local commentary as he drove our car through the grounds. Distances between lines were surprisingly
small, indicative of the distance a rifle could shoot successfully. We learned the difference in a redoubt
(square fort) and a redam (triangle fort), both French words from the language
used in army manuals. Local quartz dust
soil provided perfect dry conditions for digging trenches, a tactic to be used soon
in World War I. When the battle stalled outside Vicksburg’s fort, Pemberton
moved his men inside the city walls to weather the coming 47 day disastrous
siege. Some experts (including our
guide) consider this battle more important than Gettysburg because of its
commercial significance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Vicksburg’s
Park is unique in two other ways. On the
grounds is the remains of the U.S.S. Cairo, one of seven ironclad gunboats
built in 30 days by the Union to carry thirteen canons along the Mississippi. Inside, the boat was so hot only immigrants
could be talked into working there. It
had a short life, sinking in 1862 but was resurrected in 1965 and displayed at
the park in 1972. Also scattered
throughout the park are 140 artistic monuments honoring every state that fought
in the battle as well as individual officers or groups who served. For
years, a reunion of veterans from both sides was held here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPwTJqUzA6BqgzS4sDh8MrYgkW0umelRwNZX8u2OWDU5MFiWnPDfErPq3d8ml2hX2GgTg_zyb_wXE-wCbeWU_HAMMApmpF6u54vYV3XJ9unvJ0JBkLQ5YLmnyO6oBV6npQM4CrauiT4k/s1600/view+of+Atlanta+from+Kennesaw+Mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPwTJqUzA6BqgzS4sDh8MrYgkW0umelRwNZX8u2OWDU5MFiWnPDfErPq3d8ml2hX2GgTg_zyb_wXE-wCbeWU_HAMMApmpF6u54vYV3XJ9unvJ0JBkLQ5YLmnyO6oBV6npQM4CrauiT4k/s320/view+of+Atlanta+from+Kennesaw+Mountain.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Atlanta from top of Kennesaw Mountain</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We probably
would never have visited the Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park if our
son were not attending school in Georgia.
It is one of the many “lesser” battles and yet was a part of General Sherman’s
famous march to Atlanta in June, 1864. Kennesaw
Mountain was a large, natural barrier protecting the approach to railroads in
Atlanta. The Northern army used
maneuvering tactics to minimize an attack uphill and eventually reached the
other side. It is hard today to visualize
the battle since nature has filled in cleared spaces but a drive takes you to
the top of the mountain to see Atlanta in the distance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTh1eXWeiptjmQyddo6mZ4lVuUwPTOG6-PPuRW4Z5uCLA_-Be8WyV2rP8iUydyaLRbAw1omrwuFGTkbErrCMePeSh5paXguVnFpEFUfoSFo6uecSH7JC0Nx_xRkW_R9c_2Eu3h8GHNrc/s1600/Railroad+Museum+in+Kennesaw+Georgia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTh1eXWeiptjmQyddo6mZ4lVuUwPTOG6-PPuRW4Z5uCLA_-Be8WyV2rP8iUydyaLRbAw1omrwuFGTkbErrCMePeSh5paXguVnFpEFUfoSFo6uecSH7JC0Nx_xRkW_R9c_2Eu3h8GHNrc/s320/Railroad+Museum+in+Kennesaw+Georgia.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Locomotive inside Southern Museum of Civil War <br />
and Locomotive History</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The biggest
surprise of the trip was the discovery in Kennesaw of the excellent Southern
Museum of Civil War and Locomotive History, a member of the Smithsonian
Affiliations Program. That’s a big name
for a small museum but this one details the importance of railroads and
manufacturing in the outcome of the Civil War.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After seeing
the displayed statistics, I realized the South had little chance to win. The North had 21,000 miles of railroad – the South
1,000. The North produced 234,000 tons
of rails – the South 26,000. The North manufactured 2.5 million guns – the
South only 250,000. Food was brought in
regularly by rail to Union soldiers.
Southern boys had to forage for nourishment. And, most crucially, an entire construction
corps of eventually 10,000 men under Herman Haupt developed construction
techniques to more quickly rebuild Union railroads destroyed by the South and
to prevent reconstruction by the Confederacy of their own railroads. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Judging by
exit signs on the Interstate Highways, many Civil War sites have been
preserved. The American Battlefield
Protection Program was established to classify the preservation status of
battlegrounds. They had to choose which
sites among 8,000 battles deserved protection and rate them according to
importance. Add that to the 135 Civil
War Museums in the country, and one could use every vacation reliving our country’s
most painful time. Yet, we should all
visit a few of the sites to understand how close and personal this war
was. My conflict from 100 years later is
nothing compared to those who had to fight on one side or the other – a choice we
are fortunate not to have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-90616093314898754522015-07-12T06:34:00.000-07:002015-07-12T06:34:35.885-07:00Linden House in Natchez, Mississippi - Six generations have preserved this beautiful plantation home.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQswigRj7FYc2SfZaEnos4Hw0SrtOLjU_mNeovfbRfpCbRxO_rYlc-fdS7Wgxf7wwXtbOj62-z1_ebFKV6egUxEhSzxrIKnv_2Ma3VEMShSXEdQ0f86b0eMcPAi-xFcIAN1jGcH1iVnY/s1600/Jeanette+Feltus+in+Linden+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQswigRj7FYc2SfZaEnos4Hw0SrtOLjU_mNeovfbRfpCbRxO_rYlc-fdS7Wgxf7wwXtbOj62-z1_ebFKV6egUxEhSzxrIKnv_2Ma3VEMShSXEdQ0f86b0eMcPAi-xFcIAN1jGcH1iVnY/s400/Jeanette+Feltus+in+Linden+House.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeanette Feltus in Linden House, Natchez, Mississippi</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tVof1WDkEm_wzj_UYSAjx25jjxa5fCqOZWivsQntD9_jF8fUhuIMCCtb7isC62nUkHU10_7w6nomjoepAJDn6ObxAh91dSWbJN1HTvVs3KvD5oUCKa_bgKr_0T_newNz1xOtqlqMuxQ/s1600/Linden+House+-+view+from+Verandah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tVof1WDkEm_wzj_UYSAjx25jjxa5fCqOZWivsQntD9_jF8fUhuIMCCtb7isC62nUkHU10_7w6nomjoepAJDn6ObxAh91dSWbJN1HTvVs3KvD5oUCKa_bgKr_0T_newNz1xOtqlqMuxQ/s320/Linden+House+-+view+from+Verandah.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Veranda of Linden House</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Howdy Do”,
Jeanette Feltus called out with a bright morning lilt, taking time out from
instructions to the gardener on the need for more moth balls to distract deer from
the shrubs. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“How ya’ doin?”</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">she asked in her bright yellow pants suit,
flowered jacket and large costume earrings.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">She hadn’t slowed since we met the night before when she dealt out opinions
on food, drink and which plantations to visit in Natchez, Mississippi on a
limited schedule. Jeannette represents the sixth generation of the O’Connor
family living in Linden House and has been instrumental in its survival.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1da9oi7joUHgjJD0zHPvfMP3qQxx9Aq-gMlQ6fluGvwBuNPksiu0gmh245_-BVYkyNRHSrJGU40KHW-K3hCwIPu4OMaDO1GBT7nS6yo_8CJSoQr6VTpHIwnJam9GcDhZ1RAQcQW2xBPU/s1600/Linden+HOuse+-+beautiful+grounds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1da9oi7joUHgjJD0zHPvfMP3qQxx9Aq-gMlQ6fluGvwBuNPksiu0gmh245_-BVYkyNRHSrJGU40KHW-K3hCwIPu4OMaDO1GBT7nS6yo_8CJSoQr6VTpHIwnJam9GcDhZ1RAQcQW2xBPU/s320/Linden+HOuse+-+beautiful+grounds.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grounds of Linden House in Natchez, Mississippi</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Natchez lies
on a bluff above the Mississippi River contributing to its reputation as a
healthy locale where almost all large 19<sup>th</sup> century cotton
plantations owners in Mississippi built majestic homes for their families. With the largest number of millionaires per
capita in the United States at the time, Natchez was the place to be in the
1800s. Surprisingly, it voted not to secede from the
Union. When the Blue Army arrived from
New Orleans, locals chose not to resist strongly, saving itself from the torched remains of
other cities. Today, the largest array
of pre-civil war antebellum homes in the South has found new life with tours
and bed and breakfast offerings, including our Linden House. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Breakfast
was served promptly at 8:30 a.m. Around
the extended dining room table were three Australian women, two Dutch men, an
English couple and a sweet young couple from nearby Ferriday, probably
celebrating a wedding anniversary. I
was surprised at the heavy foreign presence, especially in a small town losing
population and off the beaten path. One
Australian woman confided they were fascinated by Southern traditions and BBQ and
thought its people like our innkeeper were charmingly different. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhQSuXB0szVOB1XmHJyNRNIOGah91ScC3JpnvlqMIoCUaxZWv2ZJM0cdJsboxnOpC5RLPFFdirG8a01VqLsQtlDHkFpHVAqeqtF9OTR3JxiP3Y025GenHibTlujVrYEObOVutfmmMlvA/s1600/Jeanette+Feltus+on+Porch+of+Linden+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhQSuXB0szVOB1XmHJyNRNIOGah91ScC3JpnvlqMIoCUaxZWv2ZJM0cdJsboxnOpC5RLPFFdirG8a01VqLsQtlDHkFpHVAqeqtF9OTR3JxiP3Y025GenHibTlujVrYEObOVutfmmMlvA/s320/Jeanette+Feltus+on+Porch+of+Linden+House.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeanette Feltus giving tour of Linden House</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After breakfast,
Jeanette gave a free tour of the house built in 1790 and owned by the O’Connor
family since 1829. According to family
lore, the first Mrs. O’Connor faced down Union soldiers, threatening to destroy
her furniture before giving it over.
Jeanette’s husband, Rufus Feltus, was really the descendant and after
buying out four other heirs, the couple restored the home and added air
conditioning. The exterior was just as one would imagine
for a southern plantation. It was the
model for Percy Faith’s album cover featuring Tara’s theme song from Gone With The
Wind (minus the cobwebs, Jeanette added).
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzU7U7JqtfTHOY8B8t8yGwYvAA8IPzBODBBdPMHYWeXEZScuTKZ3aeKIsk_4pOikIJxh2fz-haWjUEkJIkDOVHd0tQF82DpzO2PPgpKfPdY-mU6BqQvBvIMdFcwB1L3j6pY6GyCFWxB0/s1600/Linden+House+-+steps+up+to+bed+in+Dick%2527s+Room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzU7U7JqtfTHOY8B8t8yGwYvAA8IPzBODBBdPMHYWeXEZScuTKZ3aeKIsk_4pOikIJxh2fz-haWjUEkJIkDOVHd0tQF82DpzO2PPgpKfPdY-mU6BqQvBvIMdFcwB1L3j6pY6GyCFWxB0/s200/Linden+House+-+steps+up+to+bed+in+Dick%2527s+Room.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High bed in Dick's Room</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Inside the
house, Mrs. Feltus had a running commentary on each item. An old coffee maker that works like a still –
“I wouldn’t know”. Painting of an ancestor
– “Beautiful painting but ugly subject.”
Genealogy book that traces family back to Alfred the Great – “So they
say. I don’t know.” There were beautiful oil portraits of her
daughters as young women and of her husband but none of her. Unhappy with the results of her own likeness,
she relegated the painting to a closet. Some rooms had special histories. Ours was Dick’s Room, named after her
father-in-law who was born in that space and stayed there always when visiting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEjl-dHE48nTLDRVCPx0igPNZOKji1sJ5Ljdo1LgrCOJUG9xZtJJfqn35AMs-uA8uhY2zxgyOIlKP2V4GfWZApA75hLDzsii933XXfjFydM8-p1v31TjjB19uRz2yw26MmBE2wJjL60E/s1600/Linden+Hopuse+-+veranda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEjl-dHE48nTLDRVCPx0igPNZOKji1sJ5Ljdo1LgrCOJUG9xZtJJfqn35AMs-uA8uhY2zxgyOIlKP2V4GfWZApA75hLDzsii933XXfjFydM8-p1v31TjjB19uRz2yw26MmBE2wJjL60E/s320/Linden+Hopuse+-+veranda.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Veranda at Linden House, Natchez, Mississippi</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ahead of her
time, Jeanette had wanted to be a lawyer but agreed to try teaching history in
Natchez first. Her husband’s family
owned successful hardware stores in several states. Based on that introduction, Jeanette was
welcomed into Natchez society. But she
was no idle Southern Belle. Her home was
the center of their children’s social life including ping pong on the veranda. She participated in the active Garden Club
that started the preservation of homes in Natchez. And she helped organize the Annual Antique
Forum now in its 38<sup>th</sup> year and was quick to point out this is not an
antique fair. Speakers from across the
country lecture on sophisticated subjects.
In 2015, participants will </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "adobe-garamond-pro","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">investigate the relationship between the American South and
the cultural phenomenon of the European Grand Tour.</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mrs. Feltus
candidly admitted concern for the future of the home. Her daughters were on the “dark side of 50” with
no descendants. Maybe a cousin would
step in. Maybe a foundation could be
formed. This is not an isolated problem
for Natchez plantation owners. With the
cost of maintenance and upkeep so high, only six bed and breakfast homes still
remain in “the family”. But I have no doubt Jeanette Feltus will find
a solution. She has the grit of Scarlett
O’Hara and the humor of Dolly Parton – a charming combination that guarantees
success. Natchez’ inventory of plantations
will need more people like her to survive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.lindenbandb.com/">Linden House Bed and Breakfast website</a></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-3362402191883061262015-06-21T19:07:00.000-07:002015-06-21T19:07:13.781-07:00Rolling Stones Concert - Fifty Three Years of Performing Hasn't Dimmed the Excitement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYKVttUe8V9wTCSfD890-2xmuIXv9FqHM70YZxCaVRmgWGCr7NO4Xa55L2HrLFl-m9vpjt7g1ktQKs7ex_8uOKM1HkflXFXyUPWBJQ1AAWtwncNy973H_M3ESjJEcVZ-KlRKz3VkvyB8/s1600/rolling+stones+tshirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYKVttUe8V9wTCSfD890-2xmuIXv9FqHM70YZxCaVRmgWGCr7NO4Xa55L2HrLFl-m9vpjt7g1ktQKs7ex_8uOKM1HkflXFXyUPWBJQ1AAWtwncNy973H_M3ESjJEcVZ-KlRKz3VkvyB8/s400/rolling+stones+tshirt.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Official T-shirt of the 2015 Tour</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After
arriving at the nearest subway station, we approached the Bobby Dodd Stadium by
foot. It was early. Very early.
Summer showers had cleared the air providing a respite from the Atlanta
summer heat. A steady stream of fellow earlybirds walked quickly with us, as if
the music were about to begin. The
Alabama blues band, St. Paul and the Broken Bones, wouldn’t launch the show
until 8 with the Rolling Stones due on sometime after 9. It was
only 6:15.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7tEceNyrCFTXqDPDQon84C-LiAxY-9JKeX0_rFu2nqmtXQcpmQ7m6PtLWBCHgq_pI3wXhP1QlTxi-71fnUFD2PWPdKNic6XQrBjNP7vIu-o4SZx7M4Rdrg-wi2fDdScM9d9kWgYkxwU/s1600/rolling+stones3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7tEceNyrCFTXqDPDQon84C-LiAxY-9JKeX0_rFu2nqmtXQcpmQ7m6PtLWBCHgq_pI3wXhP1QlTxi-71fnUFD2PWPdKNic6XQrBjNP7vIu-o4SZx7M4Rdrg-wi2fDdScM9d9kWgYkxwU/s320/rolling+stones3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bobby Dodd Stadium Begins to Fill</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Along the
way, a single fervent believer read the Bible aloud as we passed. Another handed out flyers asking if we were
saved – probably an appropriate question of this crowd of past prime time rock
and rollers. Ticket scalpers held hands
high, flashing coveted tickets. An
occasional one questioned if we had tickets to sell. Directly ahead a grandfather/granddaughter
combo clearly shared knocked knee genes.
It was the first hint of the generational affect of the Rolling Stones
and blend of the crowd. Flip flops
joined Birkenstocks headed to the stadium.
Occasional penny loafers walked in with spike heels alongside. Gray hair dominated <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mick Jagger
is 72 years old, Keith Richards 71, Rolling Stones Band 53 – literally a working
lifetime of performing. When they
debuted on July 12, 1962, John Kennedy was president. Eight presidents have served as they played
on. The civil rights movement was in
full swing then resulting in a black President today who has sung along with
Mick at the White House. Birth control
pills were about to give much needed power to women as the band’s swagger and
claim of no satisfaction played to changing sexual mores. Their unapologetic use of drugs helped launch
the now rapid move to legalize marijuana.
They are a half century older but still play to the nostalgia of boomers
and attract millenniums whose first memories were of their songs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKYJ6KrE8SSMWiQb8sUyKB8WwP8FKL5Tx99a3Lfpiq8nYifmO38RYcUYnj8Ic801HKb44zhaWnWL_C8c2H-pC0X_ah_8vlyZ6kk1XAbeXWFtgzStoCecAOjg6R03Llq6Dr64rkVfH79s/s1600/rolling+stones1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKYJ6KrE8SSMWiQb8sUyKB8WwP8FKL5Tx99a3Lfpiq8nYifmO38RYcUYnj8Ic801HKb44zhaWnWL_C8c2H-pC0X_ah_8vlyZ6kk1XAbeXWFtgzStoCecAOjg6R03Llq6Dr64rkVfH79s/s320/rolling+stones1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downtown Atlanta in Distance</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Inside, fans
arrived from around the world. A British
woman had traveled from the Emirates to catch her 26<sup>th</sup> Stones
concert, beginning in 1973. T-shirts
from earlier tours were worn proudly. In
front of us, a young man wore a shirt from the 2014 tour On Fire which included
stops in Israel, Norway and Spain. My favorite shirts were those of a couple
that demanded, “Keith Richards for President”.
Seated next to me were two who already had tickets to the next concert
in Orlando, Florida. They had even
splurged for the second event, paying $1750 per ticket to sit on the floor
level. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The talk was
of this and other performances. We were
asked what other bands we had seen and had to reach far back to college days to
answer. My husband earned street cred
with his Janis Joplin concert at U.T. I
got a nod of approval for the Jefferson Airplane in San Antonio. We were with serious music lovers who traveled
long ways and paid big bucks to relive earlier days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9_lHr1DhGKJJ-_mdzgo_v2c6zq9S3Vx24SOIAIsYmgbvCXs8OBGuLnGMAMs4_hmzjrIX8xVuKyTrcDt35jbm5Wc48MnDjbmN3Oyr9tVdyYbVO6SSp2xjbdqeFeVpe_xE_skBn5hRRE8/s1600/rolling+stones2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9_lHr1DhGKJJ-_mdzgo_v2c6zq9S3Vx24SOIAIsYmgbvCXs8OBGuLnGMAMs4_hmzjrIX8xVuKyTrcDt35jbm5Wc48MnDjbmN3Oyr9tVdyYbVO6SSp2xjbdqeFeVpe_xE_skBn5hRRE8/s320/rolling+stones2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bobby Dodd Stadium fills</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Crowds
continued to flow in until the sold-out stadium filled. I had just commented on the lack of smoking
around us when the lights went out. For
one brief moment all was quiet and then Keith Richards’ lone guitar could be
heard prophesying the coming of “Start Me Up”.
The audience arose with a shout, smoke of all kind went up, three huge jumbotroms flashed on and Mick, Keith Charlie Watts and Ron
Wood roared to life. Most fans never sat
down again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Surprisingly, the songs I danced to at the Plainview YMCA
fifty years ago are still on the play list.
With the exception of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, members of the
band have come and gone but the music remained constant. Judging by the remarkable energy of Mick and
smiles of Keith, they still love to perform. Richards stopped dying his hair in 2008 and
proudly wears his long, grey curls. Even
with his dyed hair, I was sure Jagger’s
age would show itself somehow. But his strong
voice, large strides across the stage, skips down the platform, and jumps to
the beat masked his years. Only the
creviced face revealed the toll of a long life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They played
over two hours without a break. Mick had
funny local comments. He introduced all
in the band. He remembered their
previous performances in Atlanta, claiming we were the best audience on the
tour. And, he made sure the crowd sang,
clapped and danced along to Gimme Shelter, Honky Tonk Women, Satisfaction and
many more. It was easy for us to join in
with the strong beats, familiar lyrics and constant refrains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Over the
last fifty three years, The Stones have played concerts in dozens of countries
and sung from their fixed repertoire thousands of times. Their lives have had a fair share of tragedy
with notable public disagreements. But they
have survived. They still project a bad
boy image that’s been copied by youth 50 years their junior while delivering
philosophical and driving songs. It was
simply impressive. The best. Contrary to the song, we got what we wanted and </span>needed. </div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-78625125315735324922015-06-21T19:06:00.000-07:002015-06-21T19:06:11.382-07:00 McAlester, Oklahoma Deserves a Stop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Masoni Temple's large auditorium where Plays of Initiation are held</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWKTpOvYrbfkoVU49o-zvIf96agrRxRWgEU4kTx2oyV2r43aPyEZrhfoS7gcnDAxZMtBL8FQ6iCaViAIe7Q9jRa8DX22_UEHCP9rrMV4Sai5znDXCXEdFmoz4LSvhds6xS-U3GIFSFK0/s1600/mcalester+temple2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWKTpOvYrbfkoVU49o-zvIf96agrRxRWgEU4kTx2oyV2r43aPyEZrhfoS7gcnDAxZMtBL8FQ6iCaViAIe7Q9jRa8DX22_UEHCP9rrMV4Sai5znDXCXEdFmoz4LSvhds6xS-U3GIFSFK0/s1600/mcalester+temple2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWKTpOvYrbfkoVU49o-zvIf96agrRxRWgEU4kTx2oyV2r43aPyEZrhfoS7gcnDAxZMtBL8FQ6iCaViAIe7Q9jRa8DX22_UEHCP9rrMV4Sai5znDXCXEdFmoz4LSvhds6xS-U3GIFSFK0/s1600/mcalester+temple2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWKTpOvYrbfkoVU49o-zvIf96agrRxRWgEU4kTx2oyV2r43aPyEZrhfoS7gcnDAxZMtBL8FQ6iCaViAIe7Q9jRa8DX22_UEHCP9rrMV4Sai5znDXCXEdFmoz4LSvhds6xS-U3GIFSFK0/s1600/mcalester+temple2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Two highways skirt the edges of McAlester, Oklahoma,
100 miles north of Paris, and few travelers slow down except as required by
stoplights. Yet, this town of 18,000
inhabitants owns a surprising history full of railroad construction, Indian
Territory rights, coal mines, Masonic presence, Italian immigrants and even the
beloved Will Rogers.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Backdrops at Masonic Temple in McAlester</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s the hills of downtown McAlester that surprises
visitors first. Atop the highest one is
the tallest structure in town – the McAlester Scottish Rite Masonic
Center. Due to Masons’ prominent past when 10% of the
men in the U.S. belonged, Masonic Lodges
and Temples abound across the country and this one is impressive. The McAlester branch has had so many members
in the past, its building was enlarged more than once ending with construction
of the second largest Masonic stage in the U.S. and a 3100 pipe Kimball
organ. The Temple is appropriately proud
of the world’s largest scene backdrops designed by prolific artist, Thomas Gibbs
Moses. These enhance the moral lessons
acted out for each of the 32 degrees. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Props used in plays at Masonic Temple</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyCbE8JziFU6ONX2zSr7DUI087E2UEiO6cKIw9iVRsWkPqGN_ii2Bq_jC5Eq3FignLWJn7x7JNSTIhbiNW4EeurOq8Cap2E_nlRc2ZaHUuUtLTCxX1MpSPyd94Jo4uWeSjoKPg762jRU/s1600/mcalester+temple1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyCbE8JziFU6ONX2zSr7DUI087E2UEiO6cKIw9iVRsWkPqGN_ii2Bq_jC5Eq3FignLWJn7x7JNSTIhbiNW4EeurOq8Cap2E_nlRc2ZaHUuUtLTCxX1MpSPyd94Jo4uWeSjoKPg762jRU/s320/mcalester+temple1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painting of member Will Rogers</td></tr>
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in the palatial lobby along with a donated Frederick Remington statue. Upstairs, the beautiful Egyptian themed auditorium
is still used for the morality plays but also for local concerts and
events. Behind the scene are prop rooms
filled with heavy silk and satin costumes, shelves of crowns, sandals, wigs,
and swords. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chapel contains a Koran, Bible and Torah</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The dining hall can feed 500. In the small chapel, a Bible, Koran, and
Torah are open on an altar emphasizing the Mason’s requirement of a belief in a
Supreme Being but without a commitment to a certain religion. Our guide emphasized no alcohol, political
talk or religious persuasion is allowed in the center. At one end of the building, a childhood
speech disorder clinic operates as one of over 100 that have been begun by the
Masons. Its commitment to public
education was also emphasized as well as transport of area children to the
great Shriner and Masonic Hospitals. If you’ve ever wanted to know more about
the largest fraternal organization in the world, a tour of this beautiful
building is a great way to get started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ceremonial Hall at International<br />Headquarters of Rainbow Girls</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Down the street is the headquarters for the International
Supreme Assembly of the Rainbow for Girls, a noble name for a Masonic
organization started in McAlester to provide some of the benefits of their
tradition for girls. Truthfully, I was
shocked to discover Rainbow Girls still existed. Begun by the Rev. William Marks Sexon in 1922
in McAlester, its heyday in the 40s and
50s saw chapters chartered across the country, including my hometown of
Plainview, Texas. I joined for a brief
time, mainly to see what the initiation rite was all about. Today, it still has a Supreme Worthy Advisor
with about 10,000 members in the U.S. and several foreign countries. If you’re nostalgic about the organization and
its ceremonial hall or if you want to step back into the 50’s, visit this well
preserved museum of a building.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Signs of McAlester’s history play out in the town
beginning with its name. J.J. McAlester
used his knowledge of nearby coal reserves and his wife’s Native American heritage
to purchase land. He then convinced the
railroad to build the track from Kansas to Texas through his holdings. The town was later named for him. In the Old Town section to the north of
downtown McAlester, his original Mercantile Building still stands and houses the
popular Whistle-Stop Bistro that deservedly does a booming lunch business.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Carl Albert Freeway is named for the hometown boy
made U.S. Speaker of the House. It is
no surprise then that McAlester is home to an ammunition plant and center. You probably wouldn’t want to be here during
a war, though, as most of America’s bombs are made nearby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Storefront for Lovera's Italian Grocery Store</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The small town of Krebs borders McAlester’s east
city limit and is well known in the state for its Italian restaurants. Italian immigrants came in the late 1800s to
work in the dangerous Indian Territory mines.
Oklahoma’s worst mining disaster occurred in Krebs in 1892 when 100
miners died. As coal played out, some
immigrants opened restaurants which still serve traditional pasta dishes and a
local favorite – lamb fries or fried sheep’s testicles. The biggest surprise is the small Lovera’s grocery
store established in 1946 that is filled with Italian favorites such as dried
pasta, chocolate, biscotti, homemade Italian sausage, cheeses, and, of course,
lamb fries. It was quiet the morning we
visited but apparently, busloads of tourists will drop by for this authentic
Italian experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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but its proximity to Eufala Lake brings in enough visitors to support a nice
variety of experiences. It’s definitely
worth a turn off the major highways.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-60301660655362097102015-05-17T16:24:00.000-07:002015-05-17T16:24:00.455-07:00Update on Area Restaurants in Northeast Texas and Southeast Oklahoma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Liefie li Vine Restaurant in Winnsboro, Texas</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Over the last seven years, I have written of “things to do” in Paris, Mt. Pleasant, Sulphur
Springs, Greenville and other close-by communities. A few eating suggestions were included but now I
have discovered some new eateries of note – all within driving distance for
lunch or dinner. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exterior of Thai Lanna's</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Thai Lanna's in Mt. Pleasant</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On the exterior,
<b>Thai
Lanna’s</b> is as indistinctive a restaurant as one would ever frequent. Located on the access road to I-30 in Mt.
Pleasant and next to a Super 8 Motel, it’s easy to miss. But inside is a beautiful, clean space with
freshly made Thai food to order. Owner Kanyasiri “Jeed” Castle closely supervises the kitchen
and often delivers dishes directly to a customer’s table. Her mango and sticky rice dessert charmed
even my chocolate loving husband. If
you’ve never experienced Thai cuisine or if you’ve been missing it, try this
nearby locale. Just don’t expect fiery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Downtown
Sulphur Springs continues to improve with a completed square renovation and
updated, landscaped side streets. As so
often happens, restaurants follow improvements.
In addition to previously recommended Lou Viney’s Restaurant and Pub and
the Pioneer Café, Cajun food is now available at <b>Bayou Jack’s Cajun Grill</b> on the square. Their gumbo was authentic and shrimp salad
satisfying. The lunch crowd of working
men seemed to appreciate the portions.
Save dessert for the <b>Idzi Bitsy
Bakery</b> around the corner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lobby of Texan Theater in Greenville, Tx</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside Texan Theater in Greenville, Tx.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A very
recent addition to downtown Greenville is the stunning <b>Texas Theater</b>, a former Opera House that had been shuttered since
1975. Native Barbara Horan took on the
challenging project of renovating an old theater and the results are spectacular. In the lobby is a sleek coffee shop where a
very decent cappuccino can be had as well as breakfast and lunch offerings. Inside, tables seating 120 face the stage and
are placed on several levels. Recent performers
have included Rick Springfield, Jimmie Vaughan, David Alan Coe, The Mills
Brothers and Jeremiah Johnson. Prices
for tickets are high but include a four course meal, all drinks, tax, tip and
the show. It’s amazing to have this
offering within driving distance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dipping
south a bit to Winnsboro is <b>Liefie
li Vine</b>, a South African themed restaurant owned by the Styrdom family. Few know what to expect on first visit but
waiters and owners are ready with explanations of anything on the menu. Many American favorites such as prime rib are
offered but it’s the ethnic offerings that are most intriguing. Flat iron steak comes with a splash of
traditional monkey sauce . I leave that to you to get an
explanation. A covered patio in the back
makes for a relaxed evening. My favorite
part was the opportunity to sign up for a safari as you entered as well as the
African gift shop. This place is very
popular. Try going early and visiting
downtown Winnsboro before dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shannon Mitchell's Grateful Head T-Shirt</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Back north
of the Red River are some relatively new restaurants in Broken Bow. One stands out – <b>Grateful Head Pizza Oven and Taproom -</b> named after the owners’
favorite band. This popular pizza place
has had to expand 5 times and now includes its own gift shop. I realized it had been discovered locally when
I saw a Grateful Head t-shirt on a Lamar County Clerk’s employee. Shannon Mitchell declared the restaurant her
family’s favorite and we compared pizza choices. By
internet standards, the Funky Chicken pizza appears to be most popular but
Shannon and I preferred the Tree Hugger.
Best time to go is in the evening
when live music is available. You may
even catch Lamar County Deputy Reggie Daus playing in the Krissy Green Band. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t want
to forget recent additions to the Paris scene, especially downtown. <b>Perry’s
Off the Square</b> describes its offerings as “elevated comfort food” - translated as favorites with a twist. The
decor is lovely and hopefully, we can dine outside soon if the weather would
stay cleared. <b>107</b> wishes the same thing. On
nice evenings, this open air bar is wonderful for a cold beer and light dinner. According to friends, nearby <b>Phat Phil’s</b> serves up good BBQ, coleslaw
and potato salad from a trailer near Market Square. And, Paris finally has its own Louisiana fare
with <b>Cajun Moon Grill and Bar</b> on the
<i>west </i>side of town – a welcome
addition to an area with few food offerings.
Families, couples, and singles like this lively restaurant. It works for lunch or a Friday night
celebration.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The good
news is the independent restaurant explosion in the U.S. has moved into our
territory. Chains are no longer our only
option. We just have to drive a bit to sample
them all and this summer would be a good time to start. Bon appétit.</span><br />
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-85991723567065995512015-05-05T06:53:00.000-07:002015-05-05T06:53:21.369-07:00A Peace Corps Family<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of church in Antigua, ,Guatemala</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">School event in Chimazat, Guatemala</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve never been in the Peace Corps. It was tempting but my oldest brother beat me
to it, getting posted to Ecuador in 1973.
A niece joined in 2004, our son
in 2006, another niece in 2008, and the first niece again in 2015. It became almost a rite of passage for our
family and provided interesting places to visit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The program
has beckoned to altruistically inclined college graduates since its beginning
in 1961. At the time, a commitment of
two years to a distant country guaranteed a degree of hardship. When my brother left for Ecuador, we hoped to
see him once in the next 27 months. He
trained for three months in Puerto Rico, theoretically learning the language,
and was dispatched to Agato, Ecuador, an indigenous village outside of Otavalo,
a town two hours north of Quito, the capital.
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We had only
the Peace Corps post office address for him and he had no phone. As the town’s first volunteer, Mack had to
find accommodations. A second story
floor was put in a barn which kept him dry but all had to duck under the large
wooden beams to move about. No
electricity or running water was available.
He built his own outhouse. Fortunately, the community well was close and
water could be hauled in large buckets. Propane
fueled his lanterns and stove. Evenings
ended and mornings began early.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My family
visited Mack in 1974. We stayed “in
town” in Otavalo and quickly came down with amoebic dysentery. Yet, I fell in love with the country and when
a teaching job in Quito became available, I stayed for 15 months. With the Peace Corps office near my home, I
often stopped by as a kind of volunteer wannabe. The volunteers were an independent lot,
seemingly capable of putting up with anything.
Those posted to Quito had an easier time of it but the ones in the
countryside had better stories. Mack liked it so much, he stayed an extra year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj7GJADcErc_PAnQDjyWQFN4TPM97iOYsb7JsQyDcNamb4jXUu_eMTelx8j4w826wC6_FkacCOQzcRZFj-2nbL169GIhY7X14xTY-pga6K5GIW9FbEAVdN4QUNgSyn9PsTi9pzjAvQik/s1600/honduras+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj7GJADcErc_PAnQDjyWQFN4TPM97iOYsb7JsQyDcNamb4jXUu_eMTelx8j4w826wC6_FkacCOQzcRZFj-2nbL169GIhY7X14xTY-pga6K5GIW9FbEAVdN4QUNgSyn9PsTi9pzjAvQik/s1600/honduras+013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Lindsay Clark's home in Honduras</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lindsay's kitchen in Honduras</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fast forward
30 years to Honduras where our niece, Lindsay, was sent. After she picked us up at the Tegucigalpa airport,
we stopped by the Peace Corps office.
Times had changed but the laid back, open door, notices on the bulletin
board environment had not. As we drove to
her small town, Lindsay calmly recounted stories of persons killed by machetes
in her community but then with the usual Peace Corps odd juxtaposition of
experiences, we joined her friends that night for a family birthday party with
music and dancing. This trip was cut
short because of my sudden appendicitis.
Fortunately, the Peace Corps emergency number guided us to an
appropriate hospital for surgery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJTx1r8_5Jxty9sppyfl9aaCg672TO0QIn7golbwIlcm61TpNwnoULZjQKG-4c6Q3d5Gn8fgc_PsRkFk_EyNTV5pHraSw9IFei69Ni6o6aKQyaUIbw70BLrFv2vd4d2g5tHY3gubyT14/s1600/Guatemala2007+069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDJTx1r8_5Jxty9sppyfl9aaCg672TO0QIn7golbwIlcm61TpNwnoULZjQKG-4c6Q3d5Gn8fgc_PsRkFk_EyNTV5pHraSw9IFei69Ni6o6aKQyaUIbw70BLrFv2vd4d2g5tHY3gubyT14/s1600/Guatemala2007+069.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Walker Clark's home in Chimazat, Guatemala</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyfHLTOFtbv670lw-L8-Oit9KSuB79iFZ1-AXdmE4bx44pPSQm73aGEs-DZbl6fqSqymvBzRuUDEJqgolhnaGmxPzsdQ7uOLjyHhTHUf5ckjUDypk-lW8bnopKBPacxHh__5eV1vKq4I/s1600/Guatemala2007+068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyfHLTOFtbv670lw-L8-Oit9KSuB79iFZ1-AXdmE4bx44pPSQm73aGEs-DZbl6fqSqymvBzRuUDEJqgolhnaGmxPzsdQ7uOLjyHhTHUf5ckjUDypk-lW8bnopKBPacxHh__5eV1vKq4I/s1600/Guatemala2007+068.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Two years
later, our son joined. He could have
gone to an Eastern European country a year earlier but waited to get posted to Spanish
speaking Guatemala. Walker was also sent
to a small town where strawberry farmers hoped he could instruct on how to grow
those big strawberries sold in the U.S.
He knew nothing about strawberries, an initial disappointment to
all. In the end, he helped organize a co-op
with marketing techniques for their product.
He also stayed a third year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One year
later, a second niece joined and was sent to western Ukraine, a country already
split between two cultures. None of the
clothes Elizabeth brought were warm enough for the winters and a fur coat was
her first purchase. She lived in a city
and taught English while learning the very difficult Ukrainian language. Elizabeth has been our go-to person for
context in the current Ukraine/Russia face-off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This year,
niece Lindsay joined the Peace Corps a second time with her husband. They had just been posted to Vanuatu, a tiny
country of islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, when Cyclone Pam slammed
it. Peace Corps chartered a plane to evacuate
their volunteers before the storm arrived.
Lindsay and Sean waited in Australia until word came they were returning
to Vanuatu to serve as emergency care workers.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Peace
Corps has adjusted with the times.
Countries have come and gone according to political situations. No driving is allowed but cell phones are - a
godsend for those left at home. Rules for drinking have been tightened. Safety is the number one concern. And it now offers a college program for
returning volunteers, a benefit all our recent family members have used. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSqDJiSAb-7bBJXPERx6zYaszgewDESps6YilhHB6KqVx9NgqpjimitpwU28Lrj6UY6mDhpIh8hsqsahrTLpW6S4U8nM7WVsHK-iSOInzN6FpC_jVBcXPpqmJm0rvMJVn10bWast8mKo/s1600/Guatemala+2006+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSqDJiSAb-7bBJXPERx6zYaszgewDESps6YilhHB6KqVx9NgqpjimitpwU28Lrj6UY6mDhpIh8hsqsahrTLpW6S4U8nM7WVsHK-iSOInzN6FpC_jVBcXPpqmJm0rvMJVn10bWast8mKo/s1600/Guatemala+2006+052.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Town home in Xela, Guateamala</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A common
topic in our family is whether the Peace Corps is that helpful for the locals. All agree the greatest benefit is to the
Volunteer who returns more confident and realistic about the world. After my brother helped build a water line
into his village, he became a water expert for the state of California. As a nurse, Lindsay has often used her
Spanish proficiency. From Elizabeth’s
experiences, she recognized the need for smart fund raising and now does that
for Habitat for Humanity in Chicago. And
our son continues to use his fluent Spanish with his beautiful Guatemalan wife
and son – the best argument of all to continue the program. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-21356912721755765712015-04-20T12:47:00.000-07:002015-04-20T12:47:16.968-07:00Easter in New Orleans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trinity Episcopal Church<br />Garden District of New Orleans</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Millions of
revelers flow through New Orleans for Mardi Gras at Lent’s beginning but far fewer
join festivities when the penitential season ends at Easter. Yet at the Pasqual celebration, weather is
better, gardens fuller and a different kind of hat rules – the Easter
bonnet. It was the perfect time to
revisit New Orleans after a 35 year absence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Preparations
for the trip first centered around restaurant reservations. Two months in advance were not enough to
secure a table for some NOLA traditional establishments. Arnaud’s website warned they were booked
until May. Commodore’s Palace wouldn’t
allow online reservations and a call confirmed they were completely full for
brunch on Easter Sunday. Amelie’s, a
small venue in the French Quarter, apologized for its capacity crowd and could
only offer to put us on a waiting list.
Fortunately, finding a good restaurant in the Crescent City is easy and
I could relax a bit with a confirmed brunch reservation at Coquette’s in the
Garden District. It seemed prudent to
firm up eating arrangements for other nights of our trip and those came more
easily – Bayona on Saturday night and August, a Josh Besh restaurant, on Monday
evening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSEmv6f8-4dx9ecd0btCHL2CzbiIm3cm2Ae8F53-BhtzTmE5lcc_Fub30FvbfdajlmqgK49L9kRyfo8EsIt2Wwtj7O3kLbFDbczDmvMHMU-iZxNmF4EjwEqMwCWDgCrf8tktMKMR8TjA/s1600/e3104330-533f-4ea1-8151-f51f58af5bd5.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSEmv6f8-4dx9ecd0btCHL2CzbiIm3cm2Ae8F53-BhtzTmE5lcc_Fub30FvbfdajlmqgK49L9kRyfo8EsIt2Wwtj7O3kLbFDbczDmvMHMU-iZxNmF4EjwEqMwCWDgCrf8tktMKMR8TjA/s1600/e3104330-533f-4ea1-8151-f51f58af5bd5.png" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For
accommodations, we used Airbnb for the first time. Our go to favorite home/apartment rental
company had been VRBO – Vacation Rental by Owner. But younger friends promoted Airbnb as it
advertised not only full apartments and houses but also single rooms or even a
shared room. Prices can be as low as $30
a night in the Seventh Ward or $155 a night for a two bedroom spot in the
French Quarters or $355 for a four bedroom house in the suburbs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We booked
half of a shotgun house on Magazine Street in the Garden District, complete
with front porch for easy street scene viewing.
Donuts and coffee were one block to the east and a neighborhood bar one
block west. Our landlord lived next door and had coffee,
water and cold beer awaiting our arrival.
He knew the local scene and could suggest many music venues and local
food choices. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diners at Commodore's Palace</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With
Catholic and Episcopal churches within walking distance, we enjoyed our stroll
on Easter morning. Men in white and
cream colored linen suits and women with large brimmed hats carried on an old
Southern tradition. Boys in jackets and
girls in pastel dresses skipped into church.
A cross covered in wire greeted families who brought flowers from their
gardens to fill its spaces – a tradition I remember from my childhood. It felt a step back in time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strawberry shortcake with mint ice<br />cream at Coquette's in Garden District</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Easter
Brunches are serious business with most restaurants overflowing. At Coquettes, a three course, fixed priced
menu offered unusual Easter choices such as lamb stew with potato salad or
crawfish salad but included a traditional strawberry short cake. Well dressed<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>families filled the two stories
throughout the day. A stroll through the
Garden District took us past Commodore’s Palace, a New Orleans classic with its
odd blue and white striped exterior. We watched guests arriving in sleek black
cars, exiting in high heels and flowered patterned attire. Inside a jazz trio played. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlY_Wcno9vNWtoVI5_Mgyx1Bj3ALp_vz0L2GJgaPndlCaC_huI1C48rvNfeJNBsFImN46N2IH4n0aWR2jwNHVZ-m6zM-0xNZlYUJmK8Up8tVqWSCxiegJx3X1v3omfO7pEZaVmciSaEM/s1600/99a06bc9-d99b-46c0-9a09-6f82ffc5ce6b.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlY_Wcno9vNWtoVI5_Mgyx1Bj3ALp_vz0L2GJgaPndlCaC_huI1C48rvNfeJNBsFImN46N2IH4n0aWR2jwNHVZ-m6zM-0xNZlYUJmK8Up8tVqWSCxiegJx3X1v3omfO7pEZaVmciSaEM/s1600/99a06bc9-d99b-46c0-9a09-6f82ffc5ce6b.png" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lafayette Cemetery #1</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEuJtrdGC2DiL1Hx9HGHB0tyxtggBoz9589iKF3thBizGnhRY5i_c9rvKc5qzzh2EspfVI9BbN5UXmyxoCxf8ALDnPw_H5bSqQoEckRrKJiTNOSt-4hcy9QAwBd1m4iEpkNXzZ6TGCto/s1600/507c9de8-c6e8-43cc-9fe5-d260aa11fd62.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEuJtrdGC2DiL1Hx9HGHB0tyxtggBoz9589iKF3thBizGnhRY5i_c9rvKc5qzzh2EspfVI9BbN5UXmyxoCxf8ALDnPw_H5bSqQoEckRrKJiTNOSt-4hcy9QAwBd1m4iEpkNXzZ6TGCto/s1600/507c9de8-c6e8-43cc-9fe5-d260aa11fd62.png" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Across the
street, Lafayette Cemetery#1 was open
and beckoned to those passing by. New
Orleans cemeteries are unique with family crypts holding generations of the
departed. Names of the departed dated
back into the early 1800s. At one
monument, a feral cat relaxed and two strands of black and white beads were draped
over an urn. As a walking tour passed by
we overheard the guide explain the need to live in a “good cemetery”
neighborhood – a concept new to us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh84i1hxfex5MnRTPLSZxlkU7_fbt67M1uqYyU746EpRWjujQmEvI3oDp1hJk9qkrrmbOHhjkQjqi7q2VCvuI6tgtM3QBMvyp67qy9fcTp1cHAPMqFhNtc79kmM2NI-Xu1RDlQ3Z9o-fM/s1600/8cb7f5fa-748f-4afc-a9a5-2cfb188aab70.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh84i1hxfex5MnRTPLSZxlkU7_fbt67M1uqYyU746EpRWjujQmEvI3oDp1hJk9qkrrmbOHhjkQjqi7q2VCvuI6tgtM3QBMvyp67qy9fcTp1cHAPMqFhNtc79kmM2NI-Xu1RDlQ3Z9o-fM/s1600/8cb7f5fa-748f-4afc-a9a5-2cfb188aab70.png" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If Mardi
Gras parades seem excessive, an alternative is the Easter parade. Three were available in the French Quarter
with several neighborhood ones nearby. Bourbon Street Club owner, Chris Owens, was the Grand Duchess of her 32<sup>nd</sup>
annual “patriotic” Easter Parade. Stuffed
bunnies are tossed as well as the ever present beads. Another favorite family activity appeared to
be picnics in the beautiful Audubon Park and then just cruising St. Charles
Avenue with windows open. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">New Orleans
for the traveler has the feel of a foreign country as well as living in a time
capsule. Much of the city has completely
recovered from Hurricane Katrina and it has almost recouped its population loss
from the storm. Despite recent crime
surges due in part to a 30% vacancy rate in the police department, the city
feels safe, friendly, and walkable. It
certainly was on a beautiful Easter Sunday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4564337533283831914.post-31507323692912063532015-04-09T12:25:00.000-07:002015-04-09T12:25:24.771-07:009/11 Memorial and Museum Gets It Right<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New One World Trade Center and plaza</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original slurry wall holding back Hudson River</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">No memorial
has ever tried to accommodate so many opinions and needs as the 9/11 Memorial
and Museum. Its slow progress and occasional retreats were well chronicled in
the news. Survivors, victims’ families, rescue workers, neighbors, local, state
and federal government - all had input, many with strong opinions. Designs came and went. Size and depth were debated. Since memorials and museums have inherently
different goals, the decision to separate them allows the emotional and
historical objectives to be met. Planners
used guidelines developed for the Oklahoma City Memorial where those lost in
the 1995 bombing are remembered with empty named chairs and the adjacent museum
records the events and significance in history.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Debate in
New York included which victim names should be engraved – only those lost from the
Twin Towers or all from 9/11 or add those who died in the 1993 World Trade
Center bombing. Gratefully, all are
listed and grouped with those who died together. What to display in the museum
generated the strongest feelings. Many
of the artifacts were too personal such as recordings of last
conversations. Yet, emotional intensity
was desired and even factored in. In the
museum, early exit doors are available for those overcome by memories. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQqr9LyIuQjoVpwG150z2mZhuMffnO5vs8U4cZSWgLiEFqiK9Hp6zmit2ihhPjTrWx1dnDrwSLWx8VfGAX2Y6U-vuAeIO5JIbt7HfQedkgD5Jzk-wHL939PhdfHjwCzx9XVdFTiZ044A/s1600/2015-02-22+11.26.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQqr9LyIuQjoVpwG150z2mZhuMffnO5vs8U4cZSWgLiEFqiK9Hp6zmit2ihhPjTrWx1dnDrwSLWx8VfGAX2Y6U-vuAeIO5JIbt7HfQedkgD5Jzk-wHL939PhdfHjwCzx9XVdFTiZ044A/s1600/2015-02-22+11.26.27.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Footprint Pool at 9/11 Memorial</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Names of Victims carved on parapet surrounding pool</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thirteen
years after the event, the 9/11 Memorial and Museum finally opened on May 15,
2014. It is already the number six item
of top 20 things to do in New York City on Trip Advisor. A million visitors have come to pay homage. We approached the scene by foot, passing
through the white oaks and sweet gum tree filled plaza until reaching two enormous
pools outlining the footprints of the lost towers. The depth of the pools gave
a true sense of the size of the lost Towers.
Leaning over the four foot parapet walls, I watched water fall 30 feet (three
stories) into a square shaped fountain. Titled
“Reflecting Absence”, the black granite walls encouraged somber thoughts for
this appropriately named architectural piece.
Names of all who died were carved on the parapets, some with flowers
laid across or a single rose inserted. I
felt sad.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4eJgf27wybwoL15qxnJ83wUn7g13N9ILUDUwloNTy9b7YE7PqqXsv3PtpiCQXJtqOKs3zw6VxvYdwpHfRG8HftkMA0A6nLY1BDuOPOlwawGsw9Nal0gmVPqa2s-oq3OfuLhXMvhIwplw/s1600/2015-02-22+11.49.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4eJgf27wybwoL15qxnJ83wUn7g13N9ILUDUwloNTy9b7YE7PqqXsv3PtpiCQXJtqOKs3zw6VxvYdwpHfRG8HftkMA0A6nLY1BDuOPOlwawGsw9Nal0gmVPqa2s-oq3OfuLhXMvhIwplw/s1600/2015-02-22+11.49.50.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original Steel Beams in Museum Lobby</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicEPMvxp1jn7-R5H7Hy7VAXRjhh5sHCz7-yaWXKtr6cdwuJKwnXRHBvUd4hoxM9kdS2UoXjfl2kkRShWROoVEw6Uo2-K1Gavw7TRTHpO8HJWRMhrLVdYWm2bwFazDnq0yRihe65RzveRM/s1600/2015-02-22+12.22.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicEPMvxp1jn7-R5H7Hy7VAXRjhh5sHCz7-yaWXKtr6cdwuJKwnXRHBvUd4hoxM9kdS2UoXjfl2kkRShWROoVEw6Uo2-K1Gavw7TRTHpO8HJWRMhrLVdYWm2bwFazDnq0yRihe65RzveRM/s1600/2015-02-22+12.22.33.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elevator Motor from Twin Tower</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Nearby is
the 9/11 museum. Everything about its
open areas is large. The lobby’s long escalator
descends past two giant, 70 foot steel beams, with forked tops pointing
skyward. Further down, in Foundation Hall, the last standing 36 foot tall
column anchors this enormous Hall that is supported by the original slurry wall
holding back the Hudson River. A circular
elevator motor stretches 6 feet in diameter and a river water valve reaches 5
feet. I was awed by the dimensions. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0UvkhvQoGl9ANypYAItO0-hqjH7rc6XlTQM_G42b81_RfbTOno_wKcbcxk7BrvSa2pVE-2-sTB7MzRZXhl_TBFOoOOvuSRq6J8nRFmUPHhKQDobogOmqNjbWTL3tbCa8ScqqCOK3VPw/s1600/2015-02-22+12.21.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0UvkhvQoGl9ANypYAItO0-hqjH7rc6XlTQM_G42b81_RfbTOno_wKcbcxk7BrvSa2pVE-2-sTB7MzRZXhl_TBFOoOOvuSRq6J8nRFmUPHhKQDobogOmqNjbWTL3tbCa8ScqqCOK3VPw/s1600/2015-02-22+12.21.39.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Tile Wall with colors of the sky on 9/11</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Symbolism
surrounds you. A blue tile wall reflects
all the colors of the sky on that brilliant day. The ramp leading down 7 floors (the depth of
the debris) follows that used by construction workers. A mangled TV antenna
tower represents the end of communication from those at the top. The aluminum wall surrounding the underground
pool symbolized the silver of the original towers. I was moved
by the attention to detail.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhiOLD3y6OBWWMMtO1GOLhPyDPYWNv14lZMnaAF8p1xrIb6H7RAJzm_uA84hGxC7c6Tpi_sGbLIDtWcq2oFSicjLdfqZKIL2mmH_hS5Z2s9vfKzLSOa43Qckuh36zgAwllyG1SdLX1DU/s1600/2015-02-22+12.27.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhiOLD3y6OBWWMMtO1GOLhPyDPYWNv14lZMnaAF8p1xrIb6H7RAJzm_uA84hGxC7c6Tpi_sGbLIDtWcq2oFSicjLdfqZKIL2mmH_hS5Z2s9vfKzLSOa43Qckuh36zgAwllyG1SdLX1DU/s1600/2015-02-22+12.27.41.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fire Engine that was crushed on 9/11</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We were
reminded of what went right that day.
Fifteen thousand people got out of the buildings before the
collapse. Injuries were minimal. I watched a map of the United States go dark
as every lit location of airplanes in the air disappeared within hours of the
tragedy. Firefighters worked regardless
of whether it was their shift and first responders dug heroically that day and
later to be sure all survivors were out.
I felt pride.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In the
memorial section, it got harder. Many of
the mementos recovered from the scene are displayed - police helmet, Fireman
memorial patch, briefcase used to protect from falling glass, passenger window
from the plane, a sign in the Pentagon for Deputy Undersecretary of the Army
International Affairs, children’s clothing, telephone, rolodex, clock stopped
at 9:37, woman’s black stilettos, dusty tennis shoes, and bicycles. A photo of abandoned baby carriers in Battery
Park captured the panic of the moment.
Newscasts from around the world were available, reminding us of the 90
countries represented in the 3000 that died.
I felt surrounded by sympathy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This is
truly a national memorial as most Americans vividly remember that day. Patricia Cohen in the New York Times wrote
that “reconciling the clashing obligations to recount the history with pinpoint
accuracy, to memorialize heroism and to promote healing inevitably required
compromise.” The ability of the Memorial
and Museum planners and designers to make those needed decisions really reflect
what is good about America – the coming together of different backgrounds,
economic levels, nationalities, and skills to create a place to remember and to
learn. Our guide noted that when asked
what they remembered that day, many New Yorkers mention the color of the sky,
the dust and the kindness on the street.
Incredibly, I was nostalgic – not for the tragedy but for the
solidarity.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.911memorial.org/museum">9/11 Memorial and Museum web site</a></span></span></div>
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Mary Clark, Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06795065619534854299noreply@blogger.com0