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    • on returning home
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  • Contact

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  • Home
  • about ~ wander.essence ~
    • ~ the places i’ve been ~
    • ~ places i’ve been in the u.s.a. ~
  • Travel Destinations
    • America
      • Boston
      • Delaware
      • District of Columbia
        • Washington
      • Georgia
        • Atlanta
      • Maryland
      • New Jersey
        • Cape May
      • New York
        • Adirondacks
        • Buffalo
        • Niagara Falls
      • Pennsylvania
        • Pittsburgh
      • South Carolina
      • Tennessee
        • Nashville
      • Virginia
    • American Road Trips
      • Canyon & Cactus Road Trip
      • Florida Road Trip
        • Everglades
        • Fort Lauderdale
        • Florida Keys
        • Miami
        • St. Augustine
      • Four Corners Road Trip
        • Arizona
          • Monument Valley
          • Petrified Forest National Park
          • Sunset Crater National Monument
          • Walnut Canyon National Monument
          • Winslow
          • Wupatki National Monument
        • Colorado
          • Colorado National Monument
          • Colorado Towns
          • Great Sand Dunes National Park
          • Grand Junction
        • New Mexico
        • Utah
          • Arches National Park
          • Canyonlands
          • Navajo National Monument
          • Dead Horse Point State Park
          • Hovenweep National Monument
          • Moab
          • Valley of the Gods
          • Natural Bridges National Monument
      • Great Lakes Road Trip
        • Michigan
        • Minnesota
        • Wisconsin
      • Midwestern Triangle
        • Illinois
          • Carbondale
          • Murphysboro
        • Kentucky
          • Covington
          • Lexington
          • Louisville
        • Ohio
          • Cincinnati
      • Road Trip to Nowhere
        • Nebraska
        • North Dakota
        • South Dakota
      • Tex-New Mex Road Trip
        • Texas & New Mexico Road Trip
        • New Mexico
        • Texas
    • International Travel
      • Africa
        • african meanderings {& musings}
        • Egypt
          • Cairo
        • Ethiopia
        • Morocco
      • Asia
        • Cambodia
        • China
          • China Diaries
          • Guangxi Province
        • India
          • Rishikesh
          • Varanasi
        • Japan
          • Kyoto
        • Myanmar
        • Oman
          • a nomad in the land of nizwa
          • Nizwa
        • Singapore
        • South Korea
          • catbird in korea
        • Thailand
        • Turkey
          • Cappadocia
        • Vietnam
      • Central America
        • Costa Rica
        • El Salvador
        • Nicaragua
        • Panama
          • Bocas del Toro
          • Panama City
      • Europe
        • In Search of a Thousand Cafés
        • Croatia
          • Dalmatia
            • Istria
            • Dubrovnik
            • Plitvice Lakes National Park
            • Split
            • Zadar
            • Zagreb
        • Czech Republic
          • Český Krumlov
        • England
        • France
        • Greece
        • Hungary
          • Budapest
          • Esztergom
        • Iceland
        • Italy
          • Bergamo
          • Cinque Terre
          • The Dolomites
          • Florence
          • Rome
          • Tuscany
          • Venice
          • Verona
          • Via Francigena
        • Portugal
        • Spain
          • Camino de Santiago
            • packing list for el camino de santiago 2018
      • North America
        • Canada
          • The Maritimes
            • New Brunswick
            • Nova Scotia
            • Prince Edward Island
          • Ontario
        • Mexico
          • Guanajuato
          • Mexico City
            • Teotihuacán
          • Querétaro
          • San Miguel de Allende
      • South America
        • Colombia
        • Ecuador
          • Cuenca
          • Quito
    • how to make the most of a staycation
      • Coronavirus Coping
  • Imaginings
    • imaginings: the call to place
  • Travel Preparation
    • journeys: anticipation & preparation
  • Travel Creativity
    • on keeping a travel journal
    • on creating art from travels
      • Art Journaling
    • photography inspiration
      • Photography
    • writing prompts: prose
      • Prose
        • Fiction
        • Travel Essay
        • Travelogue
    • writing prompts: poetry
      • Poetry
  • On Journey
    • on journey: taking ourselves from here to there
  • Books & Movies
    • books | international a-z |
    • books & novels | u.s.a. |
    • books | history, spirituality, personal growth & lifestyle |
    • movies | international a-z |
    • movies | u.s.a. |
  • On Returning Home
    • on returning home
  • Annual recap
    • twenty-fifteen
    • twenty-eighteen
    • twenty-nineteen
    • twenty-twenty
    • twenty-twenty-one
    • twenty twenty-two
    • twenty twenty-three
    • twenty twenty-four
    • twenty twenty-five
  • Contact

wander.essence

wander.essence

Home from Morocco & Italy

Home sweet home!May 10, 2019
I'm home from Morocco & Italy. :-)

Italy trip

Traveling to Italy from MoroccoApril 23, 2019
On my way to Italy!

Leaving for Morocco

Casablanca, here I come!April 4, 2019
I'm on my way to Casablanca. :-)

Home from our Midwestern Triangle Road Trip

Driving home from Lexington, KYMarch 6, 2019
Home sweet home from the Midwest. :-)

Leaving for my Midwestern Triangle Road Trip

Driving to IndianaFebruary 24, 2019
Driving to Indiana.

Returning home from Portugal

Home sweet home from Spain & Portugal!November 6, 2018
Home sweet home from Spain & Portugal!

Leaving Spain for Portugal

A rendezvous in BragaOctober 26, 2018
Rendezvous in Braga, Portgual after walking the Camino de Santiago. :-)

Leaving to walk the Camino de Santiago

Heading to Spain for the CaminoAugust 31, 2018
I'm on my way to walk 790 km across northern Spain on the Camino de Santiago.

Home from my Four Corners Road Trip

Home Sweet Home from the Four CornersMay 25, 2018
Home Sweet Home from the Four Corners. :-)

My Four Corners Road Trip!

Hitting the roadMay 1, 2018
I'm hitting the road today for my Four Corners Road Trip: CO, UT, AZ, & NM!

Recent Posts

  • a short jaunt to san ignacio, belize: a saturday market, an iguana project & the mayan sites of xunantunich & cahal pech April 3, 2026
  • the march cocktail hour: a trip to guatemala & belize, a “No Kings” protest, and el gran tope de tronadora March 31, 2026
  • what i learned in flores, petén & the mayan ruins at tikal March 29, 2026
  • guatemala: lago de atitlán March 26, 2026
  • cuaresma in antigua, guatemala March 21, 2026
  • call to place, anticipation & preparation: guatemala & belize March 3, 2026
  • the february cocktail hour: witnessing wedding vows, a visit from our daughter & mike’s birthday March 1, 2026
  • the january cocktail hour: a belated nicaraguan christmas & a trip to costa rica’s central pacific coast February 3, 2026
  • bullet journals as a life repository: bits of mine from 2025 & 2026 January 4, 2026
  • twenty twenty-five: nicaragua {twice}, mexico & seven months in costa rica {with an excursion to panama} December 31, 2025
  • the december cocktail hour: mike’s surgery, a central highlands road trip & christmas in costa rica December 31, 2025
  • top ten books of 2025 December 28, 2025
  • the november cocktail hour: a trip to panama, a costa rican thanksgiving & a move to lake arenal condos December 1, 2025

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the cinque terre: a crowded hike to vernazza

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 April 5, 2020

After wandering around the old town of Monterosso al Mare in the Cinque Terre, we began our hike to Vernazza. Little did we know we’d be on that path for two and a quarter hours with no exit, no bathrooms, huge bottlenecks because of single tracking, rocky and muddy surfaces, and a ticket checkpoint at the most inopportune spot. It was hot, I was sweaty and cranky, especially at one point going up when we couldn’t move forward or backward but were trapped at a standstill line on a steep narrow cliff.  After escaping the bottleneck, we went around a couple of capes, through some terraced farmland, and more up and down climbs. It seemed that we would never see the town of Vernazza, but finally we did.

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hike from Monterosso al Mare to Vernazza

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hike from Monterosso al Mare to Vernazza

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hike from Monterosso al Mare to Vernazza

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hike from Monterosso al Mare to Vernazza

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hike from Monterosso al Mare to Vernazza

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hike from Monterosso al Mare to Vernazza

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hike from Monterosso al Mare to Vernazza

Vernazza rises tightly from a central square sitting adjacent to the best natural harbor of the five towns.  It has a ruined castle and a stone church, hidden amidst a labyrinth of tightly clustered lanes, or Genoa-style caruggi. Outdoor cafés crowd around the harbor.  We walked up a little alleyway to find a lunch café and seated ourselves outside at Trattoria Incadasè da Piva.  We shared Pansotti with walnut sauce (delicious!) and Mike got a side dish of spinach.  We also shared a half liter of white wine and a bottle of sparkling water.

As I stood in line to use the toilet, a guy from Paris complained about Trump, and I agreed with him wholeheartedly.  Maybe he thought he’d insult me, but it’s hard to insult someone who agrees with you!

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alleyway in Vernazza to Trattoria Incadasè da Piva

People lived in the hills above Vernazza before the 12th-century because pirates made the coast uninhabitable. The town itself – towers, fortified walls, and hillside terraces – grew from the 12th-15th centuries.  In the Middle Ages, there was no beach or square.  The water went right up to the buildings, where boats would tie up.

In the harbor, waves crashed over the molo (breakwater, built in 1972), while children and tourists oohed and aahed.  Apparently waves have rearranged the huge rocks even depositing them onto the piazza and its benches.  Freak waves have even washed away tourists. The boats in the square by the harbor sported blue and white striped covers.  Huddled all around the harbor were pastel and terra cotta buildings, flapping laundry, yellow awnings, umbrellas of every hue, and green hills all around.

On the harbor sat Chiesa di Santa Margherita d’Antiochia, a Gothic-Ligurian church built in 1318.  It is notable for its 40m tall octagonal tower.

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Chiesa di Santa Margherita d’Antiochia on Vernazza’s harbor

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Vernazza’s harbor

at Vernazza's harbor
at Vernazza’s harbor
Vernazza's harbor
Vernazza’s harbor
Vernazza's harbor
Vernazza’s harbor
Vernazza's harbor
Vernazza’s harbor
Vernazza's harbor
Vernazza’s harbor
Vernazza's harbor
Vernazza’s harbor

We walked up to the top of Castello Doria, now a grassy park with great views, which looks over the town. This is the oldest surviving fortification in Cinque Terre. Dating from around 1000, it’s now a ruin except for its circular tower in the center of the esplanade. From the harbor, we took the stairs by Trattoria Gianni and followed Ristorante al Castello signs to the tower.  In pirate days, this was the town’s watchtower, and in World War II, it was a Nazi lookout.  The castle tower was rebuilt after the British bombed it, chasing out the Germans.

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walk up to Castello Doria

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walk up to Castello Doria

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walk up to Castello Doria

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me at Castello Doria

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Mike at Castello Doria

When it was time to leave the town, we headed to the train station where we saw a huge queue snaking through the streets of the town. Mike said, “I hope that isn’t for the train!” Soon enough, we realized it was. We decided to avoid the queue by hiking the 1 1/2 hour trail to Corniglia, the next town, but as we climbed we encountered people coming down who said the trail was closed.

We walked around the other side of the train station and found a shorter queue to an elevator that took people up to the platform. Behind us was a young couple from California who were on their honeymoon. They had come to the Cinque Terre as a day trip from Florence.  Another French guy told us he had walked on the road the day before from Vernazza to Corniglia for two hours, running all the way downhill.  There were no options to get out of the town other than the train or to walk on the road.  We almost opted for the road, but then the line slowly started moving and we decided to stick it out.

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Vernazza

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grotto in Vernazza

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laundry in Vernazza

Once on the train, we sat without moving in a dark tunnel for way too long, and I hated feeling so trapped.  I realized I just can’t take big crowds of people and being stuck anywhere. Finally, we were released from the train in La Spezia, where we walked back to our Airbnb apartment, eating granola bars as we walked. We were exhausted.

laundry in La Spezia
laundry in La Spezia
laundry in La Spezia
laundry in La Spezia
our Airbnb apartment in La Spezia
our Airbnb apartment in La Spezia

We relaxed in our apartment for a while after showering (we were both sweating!) and had a glass of wine with cheese and crackers.

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view from our Airbnb in La Spezia

inside our Airbnb apartment
inside our Airbnb apartment
walking to Il Papeoto in La Spezia
walking to Il Papeoto in La Spezia
La Spezia
La Spezia

Mike found us a place to eat, Il Papeoto, an Osteria Vegetariana. We walked there and were the first to be seated at 7:30.  We had a glass of wine each, sparkling water, and a MIX Appetizer (black rice balls with cheese inside, fava bean mini-tacos, pastry cigars filled with cheese and broken bread mixed with red onions and tomato, like a bruschetta). I ordered “Potetoe’s gnocchi with rocket, asparagus, pumpkin cream an licorice.”  Mike ordered “black cheakpeas velvety cream with cauliflower peaks and parsley gelly.”  We shared a delicious sponge cake with chocolate icing for dessert.

An Italian family had their Border collie lying beside their table in the restaurant; he reminded us of our dog Bailey who died in 2014.

me at Il Papeoto
me at Il Papeoto
MIX Appetizer
MIX Appetizer
"Potetoe's gnocchi"
“Potetoe’s gnocchi”
"black cheakpeas"
“black cheakpeas”
sponge cake with chocolate icing
sponge cake with chocolate icing
Mike at Il Papeoto
Mike at Il Papeoto

We were captured by the restaurant’s security camera, so they sent me the photo of us through WhatsApp. The waiter was very friendly.  He said the wine he’d opened was from a local winemaker and artist who made the beautiful label.  I took a photo of Mike, the bottle, and the waiter. 🙂

Mike and me at Il Papeoto
Mike and me at Il Papeoto
Mike, our waiter and the artistic wine bottle
Mike, our waiter and the artistic wine bottle

*Steps: 24,130, or 10.23 miles* (whole day, including the cinque terre: monterosso al mare)

*Saturday, April 27, 2019*

**************

On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Castelo de Vide.

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  • American Road Trips
  • Cincinnati
  • Midwestern Triangle

poetic journeys: home

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 April 3, 2020

HOME

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“Home”

peeling and disintegrated
from neglect,
the old neighborhood
dangled
down hilly streets
of Cincinnati.
metal awnings
like eyelashes
looked
tender,
(with) a note of bitterness *

 A visual found poem.  Text from Coming Home by Julie Kibler.

*************************

“POETRY” Invitation: I invite you to write a poem of any poetic form on your own blog about a particular travel destination. Or you can write about travel in general. Concentrate on any intention you set for your poetry.

During this time of isolation and social distancing, please feel free to write poetry about any subject, whether travel-related or not.  I’d love to read and share them here!

One intention for my trip to Cincinnati, Ohio in 2019 was to write four Found poems. Two poems were to be based on books I read to prepare for my trip, and two based on something surprising I found in Illinois and Cincinnati.   One type of found poem is known as Erasure, in which you choose a source and erase away most of the “text” and leave words and/or phrases and/or sentences so that what’s left says something very different from what the original writing said and is art.  The end result should be something different from what the original text said.

*This poem is from page 251 of Calling Me Home by Julie Kibler. The rule for erasure poem is that you use the words on the page only, without adding any.  However, when typing out the poem, I took the liberty of adding the word “with” in the last line, as that seems to convey my idea better than without it.

So far I’ve written two Found Poems, one Erasure and one Found.  Both were based on Illinois.  This is my first based a book about Cincinnati.

  1. Found Poem: poetic journeys: lives moving as fast as possible.
  2. Erasure Poem: poetic journeys: let it all, all, all.

You can either set your own poetic intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: poetry. (This page is a work in process). You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, April 30 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, May 1, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the first Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community.  I promise, you’ll be inspired. 🙂

  • Jude, of Cornwall in Colours, wrote a poem full of sounds reflecting life in the countryside.
    • escape to the country

Thanks to all of you who wrote poetic posts following intentions you set for yourself.

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  • America
  • District of Columbia
  • Photography

american art at the smithsonian in d.c.

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 April 2, 2020

Mike and I went into D.C. in late October to visit the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM).  Since none of us can visit museums during our time of isolation and social distancing, I thought I’d give you a little tour of the American art in the museum.

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Penelope (1910) by Gari Melchers

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A Friendly Call (1895) by William Merritt Chase

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South Room – Green Street (1920) by Daniel Garber

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Nonchaloir (Repose) (1911) by John Singer Sargent

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Midsummer Twilight (1885/1887) by Willard Leroy Metcalf

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School Time (1874) by Winslow Homer

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Wapping on Thames (1860/1864) by James McNeill Whistler

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Autumn (1877) by Winslow Homer

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Breezing Up (A Fair Wind) by Winslow Homer

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Battersea Reach (1863) by James McNeill Whistler

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Buffalo Trail: The Impending Storm (1869) by Albert Bierstadt

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Green River Cliffs, Wyoming (1881) by Thomas Moran

Shortly after President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, the first African American regiment in the North – the Massachusetts 54th Regiment – was formed under the command of Robert Gould Shaw. On July 18, 1863, just days after the Confederate defeat at Gettysburg, the 54th Regiment led an assault on Fort Wagner near Charleston, South Carolina. The regiment suffered catastrophic losses, including the death of Shaw, and was forced to withdraw.

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Abraham Lincoln (1860) by George Peter and Alexander Healy

Even though there were many calls for a monument honoring the Massachusetts 54th Regiment over the decades, it wasn’t until 1897 that a magnificent bronze memorial by Augustus Saint-Gaudens (1848-1907) was installed on Boston Common. On the dedication day of May 31, surviving members of the Regiment marched in the celebratory parade.

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Shaw Memorial (1897) by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

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Maryland Heights: Siege of Harpers Ferry (1863) by William MacLeod

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???

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The Spirit of War (1851) by Jasper Francis Cropsey

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The Departure (1837) by Thomas Cole

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The Jolly Flatboatmen (1846) by George Caleb Bingham

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???

*October 19, 2019*

*********************

“PHOTOGRAPHY” INVITATION:  I invite you to create a photography intention and then create a blog post for a place you have visited. Alternately, you can post a thematic post about a place, photos of whatever you discovered that set your heart afire. You can also do a thematic post of something you have found throughout all your travels: churches, doors, people reading, people hiking, mountains, patterns, all black & white, whatever!

I wanted to share photos of American painters we found last fall at the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM).  I believe these paintings are part of the museum’s permanent collection.

You probably have your own ideas about this, but in case you’d like some ideas, you can visit my page: photography inspiration.

I challenge you to post no more than 20-25 photos (I have more!) and to write less than 1,500 words about any travel-related photography intention you set for yourself. Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, April 8 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, April 9, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, every first, second, and third (& 5th, if there is one) Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community.  I promise, you’ll be inspired!

  • Sheetal of Sheetalbravon posted about her trip to Venice, Murano and Burano.
    • Colours of Venetian Isles.

Thanks to all of you who shared posts on the “photography” invitation.

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  • Coronavirus Coping
  • Oakton
  • Staycation

an april fools’ day cocktail hour: foolishness unadvised

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 April 1, 2020

“There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.” ~ Soren Kierkegaard

Here we are, another week of stay-at-home orders, on April Fools Day, 2020. I’m sure you’re all doing what I’m doing – trying not to be a fool, by staying hunkered down and hopeful.  Welcome to my second cocktail hour, a virtual world where we STAY HOME and drink. 🙂  Drink plenty of water at the very least. Or gargle with saltwater or drink orange juice, grape juice or hot apple cider. Or imbibe in coffee, tea, wine, beer, or even something harder. Fluids will help, or so they say.  So let’s pour them down.

Though you may not feel it deep inside, I offer you Cheers! À votre santé!  乾杯/ Kanpai!  Saúde!  Salud! May we all remain healthy, safe, financially afloat, and hopeful.

Here’s my last week’s diary.

Wednesday, March 25: I read in the news that panicked crowds swarmed Denver, Colorado liquor stores and cannabis dispensaries, so the mayor reversed his order to close both liquor stores and recreational pot dispensaries.  It only took three hours for the city of Denver to change course on listing liquor stores and recreational dispensaries as “non-essential.”

I talked to my dear friend Jayne in Jersey, England.  She has lost her job as a dental hygienist and doesn’t know how she will pay her rent. Her son in California is stockpiling guns.  Both of her sons have been laid off.

Our president is telling everyone that we’ll all be in church together by Easter (obviously directed at his Evangelical followers).

Thursday, March 26: Last week saw the biggest jump in new jobless claims in history, surpassing the prior record of 695,000 set in 1982, as the United States shut down much of the economy to try to slow the spread of the coronavirus.

I still have congestion and a bit of difficulty breathing, but I’ve had it since March 5, so I decided to go out for a walk since it was a beautiful day. I keep trying different meds; today I took a decongestant. My son was drinking tons of grape juice in the months he was here; I hate grape juice but he left a lot behind, so I looked up the benefits.  It seems there are many health benefits, so I started drinking a glass every day.

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mulch waiting to be spread

Friday, March 27:  I had a virtual visit with my doctor about the congestion and slight difficulty breathing that I’ve had nonstop since March 5.  She told me she’d treated me for seasonal allergies before and she said this year’s allergies have been particularly bad. Besides, I don’t have fever or cough, symptoms that would indicate I should be tested for coronavirus. Thus I’m to take Allegra or Claritin, Flonase, and an inhaler because of my shortness of breath.

Saturday, March 28:  I chatted by text with all three of my children and my stepmother, Shirley.  Everyone is doing okay.  My youngest is in Costa Rica, staying in a very nice, and huge, cabin on a beach for $190/month; he has found “his people.”  He sent videos of the cabin and his people sitting around a picnic table eating watermelon, playing guitar and singing.  It all seemed very mellow and laid back.  Costa Rica today has 263 cases, so he’s better off being there than here.

My oldest son is still going to work each day at Oliver’s Meat Market in Denver.  He said they’ve been sanitizing like crazy, but only today did his boss agree to establish a six foot perimeter around the counter to meet social-distancing guidelines.  He said he’s missing his billiard hall/bowling alley, a new place he and his girlfriend had found to hang out in Denver; he is feeling cabin fever being cooped up with three people in their tiny house.

My daughter is starting to collect unemployment and spending her time trying to isolate.  She said at least she’s not spending money by going out to restaurants and going on Target shopping sprees. She goes from feeling hopeful to feeling hopeless, as many of us do.

My father’s wife said they’re doing okay, but they don’t go out much anyway. She said some relatives came over to visit and they all sat outside in the garage, spaced six feet apart.

Today we got take-out from the Vienna Inn, where they offered curbside service, but mostly we cooked in.  I’d like to try to support a local restaurant by ordering take-out at least once a week.

Sunday, March 29: Ever since I walked the Camino de Santiago in the fall of 2018, I’ve wanted to find a spiritual community. I explored several different churches, mostly Catholic, Episcopalian and Unitarian churches, and we ended up returning to Church of the Holy Comforter in January, after not going to church for some fifteen years. This is the church in which we got married in 1988 and in which our children were baptized. It’s a shame the church has had to close due to the coronavirus, but they’re doing a great job of televising worship services and uniting us in this time of isolation.

This morning we watched the 5th Sunday of Lent service at Church of the Holy Comforter. We ate our breakfast, got our coffee, and got back in bed to watch on our laptop. In her sermon, Rev. Ann Gillespie tied together the Gospel reading about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, a “zombie apocalypse,” toilet paper, and the idea of “apocalypse” as a kind of revealing, followed by a releasing of what is revealed into the world.  I found it enlightening and encouraging, and at times, humorous.

If you’d like to hear the sermon, you can check it out on YouTube: Church of the Holy Comforter, Holy Eucharist for the Fifth Sunday in Lent, March 29, 2020. The Gospel reading starts at 14:16, and the sermon at 19:50.

We went on a drive just to get out of the house, looking for signs of hope in what seems to be nearly a ghost town.  I am still feeling a lot of congestion and am having difficulty breathing, but still no cough or fever. The traffic in the area is greatly reduced, but we did see a lot of people riding bicycles and walking on the Washington & Old Dominion (W&OD) bike trail in Vienna.

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Look for the Helpers

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sign at Vienna Community Center

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sign at Vienna Presbyterian Church

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pretty house in Vienna

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together we are stronger

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trees all abloom

Monday, March 30:  Today, Governor Ralph Northam issued a stay-at-home order for the state of Virginia as our cases continue to grow exponentially.  We’re to be locked down until June 10!  Northam said people should only leave their homes to obtain food, supplies or medical care, or for exercise. All gatherings of more than 10 people are banned. According to The Hill: “As of Monday afternoon, Virginia has documented 1,020 confirmed cases of coronavirus, leading to 136 hospitalizations and 25 deaths. The state has tested more than 12,000 people.”

The extended dateline of our lockdown is utterly depressing, but I’m hoping it will slow the numbers of cases so that we can get back to some semblance of normalcy earlier than we would otherwise.  Apparently people were packing onto beaches this past weekend, and that was what prompted the governor’s shut-down order.

I read an article in National Geographic that said measures similar to our current “social distancing” were taken during the 1918 flu pandemic, so these times are not unprecedented.

Tuesday, March 31: Today, the number of deaths from coronavirus in the U.S. surpassed the numbers of those killed in the initial attacks of 9/11/2001.

Wednesday, April 1: I had a Zoom Spanish class; it worked out fine. We have four more classes through the end of April to finish up level 100.  All my efforts to learn Spanish will go in vain for this year; I’d hoped to use it when I went to Ecuador in July, but it seems unlikely any of us will be able to travel.

As of today, we have 189,633 confirmed coronavirus cases in the U.S., with 3,921 deaths. There is so much conspiracy and right-wing misinformation circulating out there that it’s mind-boggling. Even our idiotic president is guilty of circulating this information.  I won’t repeat any of it here, as I refuse to give it any credence.

“What fools we mortals are to think that the plans we make are anything more than a soap bubble blown against a hurricane, a frail and fleeting wish destined to burst.”
― Barbara Nickless, Ambush

*********

So, in the midst of all this, what can we do to make the most of our stay-at-home orders?

Here are a few ways I will try to make the most of this time:

  1. STAY HOME as much as possible.  Minimize trips to grocery stores or any other essential places.
  2. Enjoy a virtual cocktail hour either weekly or bi-weekly where everyone is invited to share experiences, hopes and fears.
  3. Call and text family and friends often.  Have Zoom gatherings.
  4. Play games virtually.  One example is playing Hey Robot (the game isn’t available yet but you can use random words in a jar) using Alexa as seen here with Jimmy Fallon and Tina Fey (at 22:20 on the video): Playing Alexa with Fallon and Fey.
  5. Get together with a few friends outdoors on a lawn, properly spaced.
  6. Try to get out and walk in the neighborhood or in a park, keeping the required distance of six feet.
  7. Listen to online sermons from church.
  8. Cook creative and healthy meals. Drink lots of water.
  9. Continue to meditate daily.  My goal is to increase to 15-minute daily meditations beginning April 1. Here is a link for free meditations I found via Robin at Breezes at Dawn: Withdraw:
    1. Accepting this Moment Meditation Series by Davidji
  10. Find humor where possible, and try to keep laughing.
  11. Set up a home retreat.  I got this also from Robin at Breezes at Dawn: Withdraw:
    1. Creating a Home Retreat: Finding Freedom Wherever You Are (Tara Brach)
  12. Keep working on my travel blog, and keep dreaming of future travel destinations.
  13. Read a lot!  Current books in my pipeline for April:
    1. The Girl with the Louding Voice by Abi Daré
    2. The Girl in the Photograph by Gabrielle Donnelly
    3. Juniper Tree Burning by Goldberry Long
    4. Night at the Fiestas by Kirstin Valdez Quade
    5. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman
    6. Hand-Drawn Maps: A Guide for Creatives by Helen Cann
    7. The Looming Tower: Al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11 by Lawrence Wright
    8. Writing Abroad: A Guide for Travelers by Peter Chilson
  14. Watch shows and movies on Netflix, Hulu and Amazon Prime. Our current favorites:
    1. Homeland
    2. Nashville
    3. Virgin River
    4. Ramy
    5. My Brilliant Friend
    6. Breeders
    7. The Crown
    8. Bonus Family
    9. This Is Us
    10. Four Weddings & a Funeral
  15. Read books about staycations, staying at home, or doing nothing:
    1. This Is Where You Belong: The Art and Science of Loving the Place You Live by Melody Warnick
    2. Adventures in Stillness: The Art of Going Nowhere by Pico Iyer
    3. Do Nothing: How to Break Away from Overworking, Overdoing, and Underliving by Celeste Headlee
  16. Donate to restaurants or buy take-out.
  17. Keep a diary of this challenging time, online or in a journal.  Make artistic journal spreads.
  18. Make up a fictional character and keep a diary in his/her voice.
  19. Start delving into your genealogy.
  20. Paint. Write stories. Write poetry. Dream. Make collages. Make origami. LOVE. 🙂

I wish you all the best during this crisis.  Stay at home, and stay safe, healthy and always hopeful.

*********

I’m going to write a cocktail hour/diary about this challenging time either weekly or bi-weekly on Wednesdays, depending on how much I have to share.  I invite you to share your own experiences with what we’re going through right now, either in the comments below, or in your own blog post, which I invite you to link below.  I’ll try to keep writing this as long as we are suffering through this together.  I hope that we will get through it unscathed, sooner rather than later.

Also, if you have any positive ways to get through this, I invite you to share: bits of humor, projects, what we can do to help others, how to keep our sanity, TV shows or movies to watch, books to read, exercises to do, etc.

Peace and love be with you all!

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  • Africa
  • Aroumd
  • Essaouira

morocco: aroumd to imlil to essaouira

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 March 29, 2020

We left the gîte at around 8:30 after having a communal breakfast, packing up our belongings and loading them onto the donkeys.

breakfast at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
breakfast at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
patio balcony at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
patio balcony at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
our room at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
our room at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech

We walked about 45 minutes down the mountain in the fog.  It was rocky and slippery underfoot so it was slow going without hiking poles. Chai and Suhua and I walked together, stopping often to take pictures.  We had to walk across and alongside the stream, hopping over rocks along the way.  The path was lined with apple blossoms, irises, gnarly trees, and huge moss-covered boulders.

walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte

Chai was so funny; he kept saying I was his photography teacher and he stopped to take pictures wherever I did.  He was so cute.  His English wasn’t great, so he just said, “I like! I like!” He wore a pink and black pashmina as a turban; other times, he wore a scarf with a jean jacket.

walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte
door in one of the villages
door in one of the villages
walking down from the gîte
walking down from the gîte

Imlil was a fog-enshrouded town where we loaded our stuff back into the van.

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apple blossoms

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Imlil

Driving on a curving road down the mountain from Imlil, we saw a gurlging stream, linseed, red boulders and rocks strewn about.  I was so glad the gîte part of our trip was over.  I looked forward to my creature comforts.  I wanted a hotel.

The landscape was dotted with agave plants, octopus-armed spiked cacti, and olive groves.  A tour van seemed to have hit someone on a motorbike.  Apples blossoms were white in the orchards. We passed through a peach-colored town.  It was very foggy; I hoped it would clear up before we got to Essaouira.

We passed a bunch of fences made with vertical sticks, some neat and some disheveled and all askew. By 10:30, we were getting close to Marrakesh.  We passed open air cafes along the road with plastic tables and goat and sheep carcasses hanging out in front. The sun was finally starting to peek out from the heavy bundles of gray clouds, shining on modern blocks of terra cotta apartments. We stopped at the Marjane Supermarket for picnic stuff: cheese and tomato sandwiches on sesame bread, chunks of havarti and phyllo cookies with pistachios.

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Marjane Supermarket

Susan had a bad cold, a tickle in her throat.  She said she was coughing all night and was worried she would wake me up, but I never heard her.  Once I’m out, I’m usually dead to the world. She looked bad today, said she was having cramps in her lower pelvic area  and was worried she had some kind of infection.  I was worried about her because she didn’t look well at all.

We passed a huge factory, Ciments du Maroc, on a hard flat expanse of desert.  More blue sky was peeping through the clouds but it was still quite cloudy with white whipped cream-shaped clouds tinged in gray.  Small stringy trees and tiny tufts of grass dotted the land.

We stopped at a cafe to eat our picnic lunch and I drank some fresh orange juice and ate my sandwich and cookie, along with a small espresso with milk.

After lunch, the landscape was flat and dry with a little green grass and some hills in the distance.  We saw fields of argan trees, known as “Trees of Life” to the Berbers for the many health benefits they offer.  These trees grow exclusively in the south-west of Morocco in the Souss Plain, where there are 21 million trees.  Oftentimes goats climb up into the trees, but Aziz warned us that nowadays shepherds forced them into the trees just so tourists would stop for pictures. He encouraged us not to bother stopping because it encouraged this behavior from locals.

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Argan trees near Marrakesh

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Argan trees near Marrakesh

We stopped at a cooperative where women gathered and dried the argan fruit, crushed the nuts, roasted and ground the kernels, and finally kneaded the paste to extract the oil. It could take about 30kg of argan nuts and 10 – 12 hours of work to produce just one liter of oil.  Of course, I bought some argan oil and some other lotions.

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Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction

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Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction

peacock at the Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
peacock at the Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Argan nuts
Argan nuts
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
argan nuts
argan nuts
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction
Cooperative for Argan Oil Extraction

We stopped at an overlook before reaching Essaouira to take photos of the city on the sea.

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Essaouira from the overlook

Our driver, Saeed, would leave us when we got to Essaouira.  We all pooled our tips, leaving him a tip of about $300 for 10 days. When we arrived in the town, we said our goodbyes to him and someone carted all our luggage into the medina to the Cap Sim Hotel, which was quite charming.

Cap Sim Hotel
Cap Sim Hotel
Cap Sim Hotel
Cap Sim Hotel
our room at Cap Sim Hotel
our room at Cap Sim Hotel
looking through the windows in our room into the courtyard
looking through the windows in our room into the courtyard
the courtyard at Cap Sim Hotel
the courtyard at Cap Sim Hotel
the courtyard at Cap Sim Hotel
the courtyard at Cap Sim Hotel
stairway in Cap Sim Hotel
stairway in Cap Sim Hotel

Essaouira (pronounced ‘essa-weera’) has fortified walls, a fishing harbor busy with boat builders and fishermen, and  huge seagulls swooping over blue fishing boats.  The smell of fish is pervasive, and the seagulls soar and screech. Inside the walls are narrow alleyways, a constant and cold strong wind, the aroma of spices and thuya wood, palm trees, and women in white haiks (veils).  The sound of drums and Gnawa singing reverberates from shops and houses.

The wind is named alizee, or taros, in Berber.  This is the Wind City of Africa.  The town lies on the crossroads between two tribes, the Chiadma to the north and the Haha Berbers in the south. With the addition of the Gnawa, who came from the south of Africa, and Europeans, a cultural mixing bowl has emerged. The town is known for its art scene; it is also a popular hippie enclave.

Most of the old city and the fortifications date from the 16th century under Portuguese rule.  At that time the town was called Mogador. However, the town has an older history that starts with the Phoenicians. Under the Portuguese, trade in sugar and molasses flourished, although most wealth came from the pirate trades and slavery.

In 1764, Sultan Sidi Mohammed ben Abdallah installed himself. The combination of Moroccan and European styles pleased the Sultan, who renamed the town Essaouira, meaning “well-designed.” The port became a vital link for trade in gold, salt, ivory, and ostrich feathers between Timbuktu and Europe. By 1912, the French established a protectorate and renamed it Mogador.  After independence was achieved in 1956, it became Essaouira again.  Jimi Hendrix visited here at one time.

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walking through Essaouira

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walking through Essaouira

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walking through Essaouira

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walking through Essaouira

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walking through Essaouira

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walking through Essaouira

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walking through Essaouira

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walking through Essaouira

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cats in Essaouira

After settling in to our hotel, we met Aziz who led us on a walk to Skala de la Ville, a walkway upon the ramparts. The sea bastion was originally built along the cliffs by the Portuguese; it is an impressive array of ramparts, Dutch brass cannons from the 18th and 19th centuries, and views of rocky shores.  It was blustery and cold.

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Skala de la Ville

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the sea off Skala de la Ville

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Skala de la Ville

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Skala de la Ville

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Skala de la Ville

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the sea from Skala de la Ville

Rene & Gabe at Skala de la Ville
Rene & Gabe at Skala de la Ville
Me at Skala de la Ville
Me at Skala de la Ville
Natalie at Skala de la Ville
Natalie at Skala de la Ville
Christian at Skala de la Ville
Christian at Skala de la Ville

We walked through the medina where I bought three CDs of last year’s Gnawa festival, one recommended by Aziz and one based on the music playing on the shop’s loudspeaker. I paid 50 dirhams ($5) each and Aziz reprimanded me for paying so much.  He said I should have only paid 30-40 dirhams each. 😦

Taking place each May, the Gnawa music festival traces its roots to Sub-Saharan Africa. The ritual music combines prayers, chants, and poetry with rhythm.  Privately, it retains a sacred energy, but at the festival it is more fusion-inspired and secular.

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Essaouira’s medina

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Essaouira’s medina

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Essaouira’s medina

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Essaouira’s medina

Aziz took us all to the rocky shore to see the sunset but I didn’t want to sit on the jagged rocks, so I left and went ahead to Reves, where I sat on the upper terrace, and ordered large shrimp that I had to peel, with veggies and rice.

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the sea off Essaouira

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Gnawa singers

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my shrimp dinner

As I was about halfway through my meal, Natalie, Gabe, Rene, Edward and Elizabeth showed up and Natalie seemed put out that I had started eating without them. They wanted to sit in the warmer part of the terrace that had plastic covering around but suddenly the waiters started bring two tables to join mine in the cold and windy area. Two Gnawa singers were singing and playing the Gambri, an instrument with three strings.

The group ordered, but it took forever to get their meal.  As the wind picked up and the sun went down, we are all quite miserable.  I felt guilty for subjecting them to this discomfort.  I didn’t feel I could just eat and run, so I stayed with them in utter misery.  Just to keep occupied, I ordered Crepes Suzette, which were warm and delicious.  I had told Aziz I’d share half with him, but they were so good, I couldn’t stop eating them.  The Gnawa guy danced for awhile.

Before long, I had to leave so I could get warm; I returned to the hotel close to 10:00.  Susan had gone out on her own to walk around and had grabbed a sandwich.  She was still sick but seemed a bit better.

*Steps: 13,876, or 5.88 miles*

*Thursday, April 18, 2019*

**************

On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Portagem to Ammaia.

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  • Anticipation
  • Books
  • International Books

anticipation & preparation: trinidad & tobago

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 March 27, 2020

The Republic of Trinidad and Tobago is the southernmost island in the Caribbean, just under 7 miles off the coast of Venezuela. The nation has a diverse cultural mix of Indian, African, Creole, Chinese, Amerindian, Arab, Latino, and European influences, a melting pot of communities who have migrated to the islands over the centuries. This African and Indian cultural fusion is reflected in its famous Carnival, Diwali, and Hosay celebrations.  The island nation is also the birthplace of steelpan, the limbo, and music styles such as calypso, soca, rapso, parang, chutney, and chutney soca. After undergoing many changes in governments, Trinidad and Tobago finally became a republic in 1976.  The national language is English, with many different accents. Citizens drive on the left.

Trinidad’s economy is strongly influenced by the petroleum industry. Tourism is a growing sector, particularly on Tobago, although it is much less important than in many other Caribbean islands. Agricultural products include citrus and cocoa. It also supplies manufactured goods, notably food, beverages, and cement, to the Caribbean region.

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notes in my 2020 bullet journal

I found quickly in my research that Trinidad and Tobago is all about Carnival. It’s the last hurrah before the austere period of Lent, and it is the nation’s biggest celebration. From Christmas to Ash Wednesday, the islands are gearing up for Carnival; big steel bands allow people to watch their practice sessions, calypsonians perform their Carnival compositions, and of course prices are high throughout the festivities.  Once Carnival Monday arrives the festivities begin in full force. It sounds like they are wild beyond comprehension, culminating in a Tuesday night las’lap beginning at dusk, a frantic and exuberant last ditch party before Lent descends.

Neither Mike nor I are big party people, and I hate crowds. It was out of the question to go to Trinidad and Tobago for Carnival, but that’s what it’s famous for.  If we were not going for Carnival, why should we go?  I continued researching what we could do in the islands if we skipped Carnival and went during Lent, mid-March, say, when all had quieted down. My selling point to Mike was that we could escape the doldrums of winter and lounge on the beach, soak up the sun.

I read three Caribbean travel books and another book, The Rough Guide to Trinidad & Tobago.  I researched plane flights and found that there were no direct flights from the Washington area; most took over 12 hours, including a long stopover in Houston. Mike wanted to come on this trip but he thought it only worth a one week visit. For staying just a week, that long flight seemed too much. Plus there were the logistics of getting to both of the islands.  Flights are the only way to go as boat rides are too long.

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books on the Caribbean

With less than five days to see two islands (after the two long travel days), it didn’t seem like it was worth the effort.  I couldn’t see how we could do two 12-hour flying days to and from Port of Spain, plus see both islands properly in one week. Trinidad supposedly lacks a Caribbean feel, and Tobago is the more quiet, laid back island. If we were going to “lounge on the beach,” it seemed we had to go to Tobago, but then there was more to see and do in Port of Spain, Trinidad.

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atlas and Rough Guide to Trinidad & Tobago

Finally, after reading much about the islands, I told Mike in late January that I didn’t think we should go.  It all seemed too complicated.  We have been to the Bahamas many times, but that was a direct flight, and we always stayed on the main island of Nassau.  It was definitely a beach island.  I might have gone alone if not for warnings about high crime and the driving on the left.

In the end it was a good thing we didn’t go, because our holiday in mid-March would have been ruined by the coronavirus, and we would have had to return home.  It all worked out for the best in the end.

Deciding not to go didn’t stop me from reading the other books besides The White Woman on the Green Bicycle, which I talked about in my post: call to place: trinidad & tobago.  I loved Monique Roffey’s writing, so I also read Archipelago, which started off in Port of Spain.  The characters took off sailing across the Caribbean, through the Panama Canal and to the Galapagos.  It was an excellent book; below is my review:

What a mesmerizing voyage. After tragically losing his son, Alexander, to a flood in his pink house in Trinidad, Gavin Weald quits his job and, with his 6-year-old daughter Océan and his dog Suzy, sets sail in his old boat Romany through the archipelago of islands along the north coast of South America, through the Panama Canal and to the Galapagos. His wife Claire has gone into a sleep, withdrawn into herself, and is staying with her mother in Trinidad; she doesn’t at first know that Gavin has left. This sailing trip is Gavin’s way of dealing with his grief over the loss of his son and his home, as well as his wife’s withdrawal. He puts himself right in the middle of nature, coming face to face with the sea and its unpredictability, its gifts and its challenges. Nature, the force that didn’t care about his baby son or his family, nature that acted purely on its own whim, by its own logic or lack thereof. It was nature that took his son, with no malice toward him, his family, or his home, but which destroyed it nonetheless. This journey is about a reckoning, a coming to terms with what it means to be human in our natural world, and how one deals with grief and loss.

I also read Golden Child by Claire Adam; it also takes place in Trinidad, but is a different kind of book altogether.  Here is my review of another excellent book:

I loved this book. Not only was it an incredibly intense story, but it evoked the whole of Trinidad & Tobago, the beauty, the shabbiness, the corruption, the criminality, the people, families and culture. We experience this island country through Clyde and Joy, two Indian parents, and their twin sons, Peter and Paul, along with many other relatives and neighbors, mostly Joy’s brothers and extended family. Peter is gifted, and by far the father’s favorite, while Paul, who is deemed to be “retarded” by his own parents as well as other relatives and school officials, is a constant frustration to his father. Joy, the mother, insists that Paul should always stay with Peter in school, even if Paul was far behind and seemingly challenged, which I thought put a huge burden on Peter. It wasn’t until Paul met Father Kavanagh at the Catholic School that he finally heard an adult consider him to be normal, not “retarded.” He had overheard his parents and relatives talking about him as if he were “less” or “not enough” for his entire life, and it seemed he had come to believe his own worthlessness, while loving his family anyway. When Paul disappears, the family faces a crisis like none they could have ever imagined, one in which one son would have to be chosen over the other. I loved the way this book was written, and the exploration of a dilemma that many parents face when they have challenging children of different abilities and personalities.

Here is a list of other books I’ve found that take place in this island nation.

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Golden Child and Archipelago

Books set in Trinidad and Tobago:

  1. The White Woman on the Green Bicycle by Monique Roffey *****
  2. Archipelago by Monique Roffey *****
  3. House of Ashes by Monique Roffey
  4. Golden Child by Claire Adam *****
  5. A House for Mr. Biswas by V.S. Naipaul
  6. Miguel Street by V.S. Naipaul
  7. In a Free State by V.S. Naipaul
  8. The Mystic Masseur by V.S. Naipaul
  9. The Middle Passage by V.S. Naipaul
  10. The Loss of El Dorado: A Colonial History by V.S. Naipaul (non-fiction)
  11. Fireflies by Shiva Naipaul
  12. The Chip-Chip Gatherers by Shiva Naipaul
  13. Salt by Earl Lovelace
  14. The Wine of Astonishment by Earl Lovelace
  15. The Dragon Can’t Dance by Earl Lovelace
  16. Is Just a Movie by Earl Lovelace
  17. Cereus Blooms at Night by Shani Mootoo
  18. Valmiki’s Daughter by Shani Mootoo
  19. Out on Main Street: And Other Stories by Shani Mootoo
  20. Bruised Hibiscus by Elizabeth Nunez
  21. Anna In-Between by Elizabeth Nunez
  22. The Limbo Silence by Elizabeth Nunez
  23. Even in Paradise by Elizabeth Nunez
  24. Black Rock by Amanda Smyth
  25. A Kind of Eden by Amanda Smyth
  26. Lime Tree Can’t Bear Orange by Amanda Smyth
  27. Light Falling on Bamboo by Lawrence Scott
  28. Ballad for the New World and Other Stories by Lawrence Scott
  29. Night Calypso by Lawrence Scott
  30. Ways of Sunlight by Sam Selvon
  31. A Brighter Sun by Sam Selvon
  32. Green Days by the River by Michael Anthony
  33. Cricket in the Road and Other Stories by Michael Anthony
  34. In the Heat of the Day by Michael Anthony
  35. The Year in San Fernando by Michael Anthony
  36. My Grandmother’s Erotic Folk Tales by Robert Antoni
  37. Carnival by Robert Antoni
  38. Whatless Boys by Robert Antoni
  39. A Thirst for Rain by Roslyn Carrington
  40. Sic Transit Wagon by Barbara Jenkins
  41. The Hummingbird Tree by Ian McDonald
  42. Crick Crack, Monkey by Merle Hodge

Movies set in Trinidad and Tobago are:

  1. Affair in Trinidad (1952)
  2. Fire Down Below (1957)
  3. Bim (1975)
  4. The Humming-bird Tree (1992)
  5. Flight of the Ibis (1996)
  6. The Mystic Masseur (2001)
  7. Doubles with Slight Pepper (2011)
  8. Between Friends (2012)
  9. No Bois Man No Fraid (2013)
  10. God Loves the Fighter (2013)
  11. Girlfriends’ Getaway (2014)
  12. Bazodee (2016)
  13. Play the Devil (2016)
  14. Green Days by the River (2017)
  15. Moving Parts (2017)
  16. Moko Jumbie (2017)
  17. Unfinished Sentences (2018)

Since none of us is going anywhere for a while, I hope, like me, you’ll enjoy exploring the world through books.  You can find lists of books by setting here: books | international a-z | and books | u.s.a. |.

************************

“ANTICIPATION & PREPARATION” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about anticipation & preparation for a particular destination (not journeys in general). If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments. Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, April 23 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, April 24, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the 4th Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂  If you’d like to read more about the topic, see: journeys: anticipation & preparation.

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

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  • challenge: a call to place
  • destinations
  • Imaginings

call to place: trinidad & tobago

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 March 26, 2020

It was one book that called me to visit the Caribbean islands of Trinidad & Tobago – The White Woman on the Green Bicycle by Monique Roffey. I read it in early 2011, after having spent almost a year in South Korea teaching English.  I was getting ready to leave Korea for good, but before returning home, I planned to embark on a trip to India.

Trinidad & Tobago is a dual-island Caribbean nation near Venezuela, with distinctive Creole traditions and cuisines.  It doesn’t rely on tourism as do most Caribbean islands. The Trinidadian economy is primarily industrial with an emphasis on petroleum and petrochemicals; much of the nation’s wealth is derived from its large reserves of oil and natural gas.

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my bullet journal for 2020

Here is the post that I wrote on February 20, 2011 on my blog catbird in korea. Here I talk about how The White Woman on the Green Bicycle reflected my feelings about Korea.

I can’t get no satisfaction…

I am walking down the main highway in front of Keimyung University, trying to get some exercise, trying to get my bad knee used to taking long walks in preparation for my upcoming trip to India.  On my iPod Nano, Mick Jagger is singing “I can’t get no satisfaction.”  And I am singing right along with him, with no care in the world that the Koreans passing by me on the street may think I’m crazy.  I just don’t care anymore.

I’m feeling good and the air is crisp and cool, but not as frigid as it usually is in February in Korea.  And I realize this song is an echo of my feelings about Korea and why I am so happy to be leaving here in 8 more days.

I have had a great adventure here in Korea.  I have traveled all over the country, explored many nooks and crannies that even native Koreans have never seen.  I have been able to travel to 5 other Asian countries while I’ve been here:  Turkey (1/2 Asian, anyway), China, Japan, Vietnam and Cambodia.   I will travel to India on my way home, so including Korea, that will make 7 countries total.   I have made many new friends, both Koreans and expats, and have learned that I have the ability to be flexible enough to survive in a foreign country.

On the other hand, I have endured a horrible 1 1/2 hour commute each way every day for the last six months.  I have struggled with loneliness.  I have missed my children.  I have had to work in conditions no Westerner would ever expect to work in, namely, a classroom that is not properly heated in winter and not air-conditioned in summer.  I have been surrounded by people who I know have been learning English for the past 20 years, yet refuse to speak a word in case they make a single mistake.

I finished reading a great novel in early February called The White Woman on the Green Bicycle by Monique Roffey.  I bought it in the Siem Reap Airport in Cambodia.  In this book, a husband and wife, George and Sabine Harwood, move to the Caribbean island of Trinidad from England.  George is immediately seduced by the enticing island, with her lush curvaceous mountains and tropical greenery.  Sabine, on the other hand, feels uneasy and heat-fatigued.

She describes her arrival to the island in 1956.  Her stomach is twisted in knots.  She is frightened.  She describes the heat: “Hot countries I knew, European countries.  But this heat was indecent, like breath or fingers.  Hands on me, touching me.” (p. 198)  She describes how she wards off boredom by cleaning her tiny flat until it is immaculate.  Shopping, she encounters strange unlabeled fruits and vegetables, “forlorn and shriveled” or “root-like bulbs, dirty and hairy.”  Tomatoes “a little rotten” and cauliflowers “heat-tired and turning brown.”  The shelves are dusty and sparse.  She can’t understand the accents of the locals and she feels like they are all staring at her as if she’s some kind of apparition.  She feels the locals won’t engage with her, as if she is an irritant.

At the markets, which resemble a “mass of bees swarming,” where the bright sun is “polishing the black bodies,”  she sails by on her green bicycle, “a white ghost in their midst.”  Her face flushed “with the embarrassment of not knowing the rules.”

While reading this book, I can relate to Sabine’s experience, though the setting is different.  In Korea, everywhere are swarms of shiny black hair, straight and gleaming and lovely.  I feel like an albino walking around with my whitish hair.  Everyone wears black or dark and subdued colors.  Things seems dark and depressing.  The only bright colors are on the garish signs written in Hangul, all of primary colors and punctuating the city streets like childish cartoons.

The Koreans all sit quietly and primly on the metro.  They barely acknowledge I am there, such an obvious outsider.  The young girls at the university wear the tiniest skirts imaginable and their legs seem to stretch to the heavens.  Young couples wear matching shirts or even specially ordered matching outfits. I find these things annoying.  Koreans on the street look at me briefly, but then avert their eyes, as if I have some unsightly deformity.

It’s almost as if I am floating above and observing this strange world.  I’m removed, not really a part of society here.  I will never fit in.  I will be a curiosity at best, an anomaly.  Sometimes I look at the strange people in what to me is a strange land and wonder what on earth I am doing here. I’m sure they look at me in this land of theirs that is perfectly normal and everyday, and wonder what is this stranger doing here, interloping in their town.  Sometimes they are very friendly, happy to say “Hi” or “Hello” in chipper voices.  Other times they regard me coldly and with irritation.  Sometimes they touch my hair and wonder why I don’t dye it.  They wonder why I’m different. They are fascinated by the hair on my arms.  I do not meet their ideals of uniformity. In this society, individuality is frowned upon.  Conformity is pervasive.  I don’t conform and I never will.

Yet.  This is how I have chosen to live.  It doesn’t seem as bad, somehow, to NOT belong in Korea.  In the U.S., where I also feel that I don’t fit in, it seems much worse.  Back home I’m expected to fit.  I should fit, shouldn’t I? After all, I’m an American.  Here in Korea, I expect NOT to fit in.  Because my expectations are such, it is not as painful to be outside of things.  It’s the nature of the life I have chosen.  Here I have an excuse to be different, to be on the outside.  In the U.S., I have no excuse.  Yet.  It is the case that in the U.S., I always feel slightly removed from people, like I’m on the outside looking in.  This is how I’ve felt most of my life.  But here, I’m not so disappointed about this.  In the U.S., it’s disheartening, depressing.  Disturbing, even.  But here, well, it’s okay.

I wonder if this is how other expats feel.  Like they’re an outsider no matter what they do.  Reading this book about the white woman on the green bicycle gave me a friend in Sabine Harwood.  She’s an expat, though fictional, who says it like it is.  I feel not so totally alone when I read her story, share her outlook, her experience.

It’s true. Here in Korea, I can’t get no satisfaction.  But in the character of Sabine Harwood, I feel some relief to know I’m not in this alone.

**************

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The White Woman on the Green Bicycle

In the book, I found George Harwood’s descriptions of Trinidad interesting: “George liked it so, that this island was uncompromising and hard for tourists to negotiate.  Not all welcome smiles and black men in Hawaiian shirts, playing pan by the poolside.  No flat crystal beaches, no boutique hotels.  Trinidad was oil-rich, didn’t need tourism.  … Trinidad was itself; take it or leave it.” (p. 78).

At another point, we see Trinidad through George’s eyes: “He preferred these wild emerald hills, the brash forests, the riotous and unpredictable landscape of Trinidad to the prim hazy pastures of his own country, England.  He wanted this bold land.  Not the mute grey-drizzle of Harrow on the Hill.  He liked the extrovert people, not the prudish and obedient couples his parents had mixed with. He felt alive here, unlike Sabine.” (p.51).

At one point Sabine describes the island: “I watched the green mountains all around.  Voluptuous, the undulating hills of a woman. I saw her everywhere, this green woman.  Her hips, her breasts, her enticing curves.” (p. 261). But her views are from inside, as she sits nervously smoking a cigarette looking through her windows at torrential rains, in the midst hurricane warnings.  She doesn’t feel relaxed; she’s on edge.

Trinidad and Tobago was presented in this novel with all its good and bad; through the eyes of George, it was enticing.  Through Sabine’s eyes, it was unsettling, even frightening.

So what made me want to go?  I had been many times to the Bahamas, and had seen what George described, what is common in most Caribbean islands: “black men in Hawaiian shirts, playing pan by the poolside,” flat crystal beaches, boutique hotels.

After all my travels, I have tired of touristy places, and the non-touristy nature of Trinidad and Tobago enticed me.  I have grown impatient with crowds, and long lines, and seeing things that everyone else wants to see.

Thus it appealed.  I got to work reading all about it, and deciding whether we should go.  After researching it, we would have to make a decision.

********************

“THE CALL TO PLACE” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about what enticed you to choose a particular destination. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.  If your destination is a place you love and keep returning to, feel free to write about that.  If you want to see the original post about the subject, you can check it out here: imaginings: the call to place.

Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, April 22 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  My next “call to place” post is scheduled to post on Thursday, April 23.

If you’d like, you can use the hashtag #wanderessence.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the fourth Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time.  🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community.  I promise, you’ll be inspired!

  • Sheetal, of Sheetalbravon, wrote about how she was called by the macabre (grainy black and white photos of humans and animals frozen in surprise during their final moments) to visit Pompeii.
    • Pompeii Calling

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about “the call to place.”

 

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  • America
  • Art Journaling
  • Coronavirus Coping

a march “socially-distanced” cocktail hour: how do we cope?

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 March 25, 2020

Here we are, in a place we never imagined we’d be. Well, maybe some of us imagined it. The whole world is together in this; individually, we’re separated – “socially distanced” – yet, we’re all paradoxically in the same situation, trying to defeat a pervasive and invisible enemy, COVID-19, otherwise known as the coronavirus. Meanwhile, as we hunker down and “stay at home,” we watch helplessly as the economy crumples all around us.

So, what to do, but STAY HOME and drink. 🙂  Drink plenty of water at the very least.  Or wine, or beer, or something harder.  Cheers! À votre santé!  乾杯/ Kanpai!  Saúde!  Salud! May we all remain healthy, safe, financially afloat, and hopeful.

I can’t travel right now, as none of us can, but I plan to keep writing my travel blog because I have a huge backlog of posts, and I can still dream for the day when, or if, we make it through this.

What the hell happened anyway? My daughter, always a worrier, said on Monday morning, March 23, that in some ways she felt relief.  Here it was, this unknown thing she had always feared, something catastrophic that we would have to face. Some dark thing we have all imagined in one way or the other.  We just might die.  Our lives may be irrevocably changed.  We may lose people we love. More collapses may come.  Or we may all pull through it together, those who are remaining, and make the world better.  Or worse.  Uncertainty is the only thing of which we’re certain.  All the predictions in the world can’t help us through this one.  Only hindsight will tell us what we wish we knew at this moment.

I already thought my year was starting off badly when our youngest son decided to quit his massage therapy course in late January. This after we allowed him to move back home last May and paid thousands of dollars in tuition. He’d completed all the coursework and passed the licensing test, but he still had to show up for 20 days and give no more than four massages a day.  He couldn’t muster up the wherewithal to do it, for reasons that weren’t made clear to us.  He said he just decided he didn’t want to be a massage therapist.  But he had been geared up for it since December, after returning from his first Vipassana retreat, and we thought he was determined to at least finish.  Besides, we had given him a huge list of incentives to finish the course, none of which would materialize if he didn’t.

I was furious, to say the least, and as he was allowed to live with us only as long as he was in school, we told him he’d have to move out by March 17, when he was scheduled to serve for 10 days at a Vipassana retreat in Massachusetts.  His only livelihood was a “gig job” of dog-walking, and he’d been at it full force, trying to save money for when he’d be expected to move out.  We were still getting along and he was working long hours walking dogs, walking up to 12-14 miles/day, and even doing yoga for a while.

My son has bouts of what I have often considered paranoia, but he believes he has a gift.  He believes he’s a shaman, plugged into knowledge about the universe that most of us aren’t privy to. He is a brilliant and gifted young man, but somehow he’s never been able to make that work for him in the real world.  I wish he’d seek professional help, but he refuses, as he believes the psychiatric profession is part of a “system” that seeks to control and exploit us.

At the end of February, I went to Baltimore and as I was walking down some steps at the Walters Art Museum, I was looking at my phone (oops!) and thought I was on the bottom step of the staircase.  Instead, I was one step up; I stepped out into thin air and collapsed full force with my  left ankle making a snap! as I toppled down on top of it.  I was able to stand and hobble out, but I knew something was seriously wrong.  I was determined to stick it out in Baltimore, and even the next day I foolishly hobbled around for eight miles in the city.  Only on Monday did I find that nothing was broken, but I’d sprained some ligaments around my ankle.  I was given a knee-high ankle boot to wear for two weeks, after which time I should revisit the doctor. (And to think that I thought this was a problem!)

I fell after seeing Adam & Eve at the Walter Art Gallery
I fell after seeing Adam & Eve at the Walter Art Gallery
me in my walking boot
me in my walking boot

We celebrated Mike’s 66th birthday the last week in February, and soon after, my oldest son celebrated his 29th birthday in Denver.  We had a fun night at home with Mike’s sister and my youngest son, sharing dinner and playing games.  I went to a pharmacy for my Singrix vaccine.  I voted for Joe Biden in the Virginia Democratic Primary.  I was disappointed that we’d come down to two old white men as our Democratic candidates, but I picked the one I thought MIGHT have the best chance to defeat Trump.

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Celebrating Mike’s 66th birthday

On Thursday, March 5, I began to feel bad, like I had a chest cold coming on.  I was having some trouble breathing and a lot of congestion, but no cough and no fever.  I was depressed because our son was isolating himself, as he often does when he’s going into a dark place. I still felt bad on Friday the 6th and didn’t do anything.

We had started going to Church of the Holy Comforter in Vienna, and we went to an evening service on Saturday followed by a wine social; there we reconnected with people we hadn’t seen in years. We had gotten married in that church in 1988, but had eventually fallen away from any church for about 10 years, for many reasons. So it was nice to start reconnecting again with a spiritual community.

On Sunday, March 8, our son talked to Mike about all signs pointing to an apocalypse, and how he wanted to find a like-minded community.  He mentioned Portugal and Bali. He also mentioned that the Vipassana retreat might be cancelled because of the coronavirus.   The next day, on edge because of what he’d told Mike, I got in a big fight with him because he was sleeping late and missing his regular dog walks.  I went that afternoon to a Contemplative Prayer meeting at 1:30, where our priest suggested we let a word find us, a word to keep coming back to in our prayer. The word “LOVE” found me, and we meditated 20 minutes; as my mind wandered, I kept bringing it back to that word.  I shared with some people in the group about my frustrations with my son and how I needed the word “LOVE.”  It had made me feel very peaceful.

I was able to take off the walking boot on Monday, March 9, and felt like finally I could get back to “normal” life, back to my 3-mile walks and going to Pilates.

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Experimental meal on March 10

Two days later, on Wednesday, March 11, the stock market started its crash, dipping into bear market territory, because of worries about the coronavirus.  I spent the entire day out of the house: Spanish class, Takeshi Sushi, and seeing the movie The Assistant. I did a little shopping at Marshalls and Loft and then had dinner at P.F. Chang.  I was actually trying to avoid being around our son because of his dark mood and the awkward tension between us.

Mike said he would start working from home more; his company would have an all-day remote workday on Monday, March 16, to test the capabilities of working remotely.  He worked from home on Friday the 13th, and while I was at my first Pilates class, post-walking-boot, he was bugging our son to get up and get going on his dog walks.  It was very tense with our son all day and he wouldn’t speak to either of us.

We told our son if his Vipassana retreat was cancelled, he could stay at our house for a while longer, until we knew more about the coronavirus.  His aunt, my sister-in-law, also offered him a place to live under certain conditions.  He said he would think about it.  We were anxious for him to leave but felt we couldn’t throw him out with so much uncertainty about the situation.

On Friday, March 13, we heard Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson tested positive for coronavirus in Australia and were isolating themselves with mild symptoms.  I loved the bits of humor I saw here and there: Stephen Colbert dancing in his empty audience-less theater.  Our church sent a newsletter about how to make the most of this isolating and scary period.  I learned about tonglen practice through Poma Chodron.

Walk around Lake Newport
Walk around Lake Newport
Walk around Lake Newport
Walk around Lake Newport
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a walk on March 13 around Lake Newport in Reston

On Saturday, March 14, our son informed us that he was going to Costa Rica to join a community and stay in a hostel for $8/night.  He wanted to get out of the U.S. because he thought all signs were in place for the apocalypse.  We said we’d been hearing predictions for the apocalypse for our entire lifetimes, and people have been predicting it since Revelations was written.  I felt it was another bad decision, basing his life decisions on paranoia.  Later that night he informed us he’d bought a ticket for Sunday night at 8:00 out of BWI.  I said I thought it was a terrible decision, but we loved him and hoped it would work out for him.  I said, “It’s a pandemic.  You won’t escape it there.”  He said he thought the whole U.S. was going to collapse.  He thought he could survive in Costa Rica on fruit alone, as he is vegan and nearly a fruitarian now anyway.  However, he doesn’t speak Spanish and would probably have a hard time generating income there; he also might have trouble getting back into the U.S.  I feared the hostel he was staying in would close and he’d be stuck there indefinitely with no place to stay and no money.

We went out on Saturday night to see the movie Hope Gap and ate a lovely dinner at the Italian restaurant Alta Strada.  We weren’t sure it was wise to go out, but we went out to support what we feared was a collapsing economy. There were only about 10 people in the theater, but the restaurant started to fill up as we were finishing our early bird dinner. Later, we realized it probably hadn’t been wise to go out, but the leadership in our country was failing us by not giving us clear directives.

our last night out before the virus hit full force
our last night out before the virus hit full force
me at dinner at Alta Strada Mosaic
me at dinner at Alta Strada Mosaic
gnocchi - yum!
gnocchi – yum!

Our son spent all day Sunday the 15th putting our house back the way he found it when he arrived last May and sorting through his stuff that he would leave behind.  Mike drove him to BWI on Sunday evening, and he took off and made it to Costa Rica by morning.

My daughter had been working three jobs in Richmond.  The market where she worked, Soul n’ Vinegar, had closed over the weekend.  She has worked as a bartender at Joe’s Inn for over 10 years; the restaurant has been an old Richmond establishment for over 50 years.  That closed on Monday.  Her only source of income remaining was her savings and any freelance articles she could pick up from Richmond Magazine, her third job.

On Monday, March 16, the DOW Jones Industrial Average dropped by over 3,000 points.  I started keeping a spreadsheet of the DOW and the Coronavirus cases in the U.S.  As of Monday, March 16, the U.S. had 3,599 cases (The New York Times Coronavirus Map). A little over one week later, as of 3/25/20, we had 55,225 cases (CSSE at Johns Hopkins University), and are now third in line behind China and Italy for numbers of cases.  As of today, we’ve had 728 deaths (The New York Times Coronavirus Map). Costa Rica today has 177 cases and 2 deaths.  Of course, this only takes into account those who have been tested.  Many more people are certainly walking around with the virus. Only people who need to be treated in hospitals are able to be tested now in the U.S.

I took a walk around Meadowlark Gardens because it was a warm and sunny day and I wanted some fresh air and exercise.  I kept a safe distance from the few people that were there.  I was still having a lot of congestion though, and it felt worse once I was back home.

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Walk at Meadowlark Gardens on March 16
Walk at Meadowlark Gardens on March 16
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On Tuesday, March 17, I felt a bit relieved that my youngest had made it to Costa Rica and wondered if all his apocalyptic predictions were right on.  Maybe he isn’t paranoid at all; maybe he does have some knowledge that we unenlightened are not privy to.  In the end, only time will tell.

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March 17 headlines

I went to two grocery stores on Tuesday the 18th to stock up on food.  I couldn’t find many of the things I wanted at Harris Teeter; the clerk told me they usually got a shipment on Monday nights, but only produce and dairy had come in the Monday shipment.  They had hardly any meat, chicken or fish, and of course toilet paper and hand sanitizers and cleansers were gone.  I started to worry about the food chain.  What if food supplies were disrupted?

At Whole Foods, I almost started crying every time one of the grocery store workers helped me. A young man asked when I walked in with a cart if I wanted him to spray down the handlebar.  The young man in the fish department said he thought it was wise to buy gold.  He seemed very calm and friendly.  I felt such gratitude for these people who were putting themselves in danger every day by working on the front lines to provide food for citizens.

A woman customer standing nearby said she’d been in Florida and the beaches had been packed with college kids on spring break.  We both shook our heads at the stupidity of it.

I came home and organized all my cupboards and my refrigerator with the food I’d bought and hoped it would hold us for a while.

I was still walking outside every day, despite my congestion, because I felt okay otherwise.  On Wednesday, I went out for a walk at Riverbend Park with Poonam, from my now-cancelled Spanish class. We kept our 6-foot distance the whole time and enjoyed the blooming bluebells and the beautiful day.

On Thursday, March 19, I sent this message to my son in Costa Rica after I read it on NPR: The U.S. State Department “instructed U.S. citizens not to travel internationally. The Level 4 travel advisory also calls on U.S. citizens who live in the U.S. but are currently overseas to ‘arrange for immediate return to the United States, unless they are prepared to remain abroad for an indefinite period.'”

All he replied was “Wow thank you so much for sharing!  Thank you mom ❤ <3.”  By his response, I guessed he did not plan to come home.

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Cherry blossoms on March 19

On Friday, March 20, my son texted to tell me the hostel had closed and he was planning to travel to Montezuma where he found he could rent a small cottage for $200 for a month.  He said it was mango season and he’ll have plenty of mangoes to eat. He let us know on Sunday he would be moving in by Monday, March 23.  He planned to hang at the beach and spend a lot of time meditating.  Maybe that will help us all.

After working from home, Mike took advantage of the beautiful day and went on a bikeride, which helped relieve his stress.

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Mike’s bikeride in Vienna

Over the weekend, Mike went to Betty’s Azalea Ranch for mulch; he arranged and paid ahead by phone and did curbside pickup.  Now he’s set for yard work when the weather is nice. He made me a breakfast of eggs, brie and ham on garlic naan, and I made some cauliflower and spicy black bean tacos for dinner.

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prepared to mulch

garlic naan, eggs, ham, brie and tomatoes
garlic naan, eggs, ham, brie and tomatoes
cauliflower and spicy black bean tacos
cauliflower and spicy black bean tacos

As of today, I still have a lot of congestion, but still no fever and no cough.  I can’t help but wonder if it is related to the virus.  It seems my sister, my sister-in-law, and some of my neighbors have the same kind of symptoms as I do.  I hope my symptoms are allergy-related as I only have congestion with no other symptoms and it seems to get worse when I go outside.  On Saturday night, I took some 24-hour allergy medication, and then I slept away much of the day on Sunday, in between reading Golden Child by Claire Adam.

My son’s job at Oliver’s Meat Market in Denver is still going, but I worry about him being exposed to the virus every day. His girlfriend who moved in with him before Christmas is only doing gig jobs for now, but those seem to be drying up. Of course, we told our kids that if they needed financial help, to please let us know, although our own retirement savings are taking a hit with each passing day.  Mike planned to retire by year end, but he is now wondering if he’ll have to rethink that.

I got an email from my Spanish teacher on Monday afternoon saying we would resume our class by Zoom starting Wednesday, April 1.

On Monday evening, March 23, Governor Ralph Northam of Virginia decided that all schools would remain closed at least through the end of the academic year. Restaurants may only provide curbside, takeout or delivery service. Recreation and entertainment facilities, like gyms, bowling alleys and theaters must close. Personal care services like spas, massage parlors and barber shops must close.  Essential businesses such as grocery stores, pharmacies and banks may remain open while maintaining social distancing guidelines; grocery stores must increase sanitizing procedures. Non-essential brick and mortar establishments can stay open if they can maintain the 10-person limit, otherwise, they must close. Gatherings of more than 10 people are banned across Virginia.

On Tuesday afternoon, we got a text from our son in Costa Rica: “Hey just wanted to say love you guys! Heading out to Cabuya cabaña in just a minute and won’t have WiFi for a bit except when I drop into other places. Love you and hope you’re staying safe out there <3.” He went on to say he’d secured the cabin in Cabuya for $190 for the month and “already moved my stuff there jus moving my body there now haha.”  He said he met a guy from Texas born one day before him who believes everything he does.  I guess he’s found his “like-minded community.”

Just this afternoon, we heard that susceptible people might be released from prisons into the general population.  I hope we won’t now descend into lawlessness.

I won’t even get into the complete and utter lack of leadership shown by our criminal president and his Republican cohorts.  Their inaction, their abhorrence of and dismantling of government, their total lack of compassion, their denial of science, their continued support for corporations at the expense of the most vulnerable in our society — these things are inexcusable. Every time our narcissistic leader gets in front of cameras to speak, he does so with more lies and disinformation, disdain for experts, and narcissistic self-praise. He is a disgrace. I’m convinced he is bent on destroying our country.  In my opinion, he is going about doing that very well.

I’ve decided I’m only listening to reputable medical specialists and to our state governors, like Governor Cuomo of New York and our state governor, Governor Northam.

*********

So, in the midst of all this, what can we do to cope?

Here are a few ways I will try to cope:

  1. STAY HOME as much as possible.  Minimize trips to grocery stores or any other essential places.
  2. Enjoy a virtual cocktail hour either weekly or bi-weekly where everyone is invited to share experiences, hopes and fears.
  3. Call and text family and friends often.  Have Zoom gatherings.
  4. Get together with a few friends outdoors on a lawn, properly spaced. My daughter is getting together with friends on lawns periodically, just three or four people spread out far from each other, sitting on blankets, having a drink.  I like this idea, but it’s a little too chilly now.
  5. Try to get out and walk in the neighborhood when my congestion is cleared up.
  6. Listen to online sermons from church.
  7. Cook creative and healthy meals. Drink lots of water.
  8. Continue to meditate daily.
  9. Find humor where possible, and try to keep laughing.
  10. Keep working on my travel blog, and keep dreaming of future travel destinations.
  11. Read a lot!
  12. Watch shows and movies on Netflix, Hulu and Amazon Prime.
  13. Donate to restaurants or buy take-out.  I bought a gift card from Joe’s Inn in their drive to provide meals for medical workers at VCU Medical Center.
  14. Keep a diary of this challenging time, online or in a journal.  Make journal spreads.
  15. Paint.  Write stories.  Write poetry.  Dream.  Pray/Meditate.  Make collages.  LOVE. 🙂

I wish you all the best during this crisis.  I am hanging on to hope, because what else is there to do?

*********

I’m going to write a cocktail hour/diary about this challenging time either weekly or bi-weekly on Wednesdays, depending on how much I have to share.  I invite you to share your own experiences with what we’re going through right now, either in the comments below, or in your own blog post, which I invite you to link below.  I’ll try to keep writing this as long as we are suffering through this together.  I hope that we will get through it unscathed, sooner rather than later.

Also, if you have any positive ways to get through this, I invite you to share: bits of humor, projects, what we can do to help others, how to keep our sanity, TV shows or movies to watch, books to read, exercises to do, etc.

Peace and love be with you all!

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  • Aït-Ben-Haddou
  • Africa
  • Aroumd

morocco: aït-ben-haddou to imlil to aroumd

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 March 24, 2020

We left Aït Ben Haddou at 8:30 and stopped for pictures of the town from afar.  After a quick selfie with Chai, the Thai pediatrician who kept insisting I was his photography teacher(!), we were on our way to a mountain gîte in the High Atlas Mountains.

leaving Aït Ben Haddou
leaving Aït Ben Haddou
me with Chai
me with Chai

We were immediately winding along mountain roads.  Green fields were dotted with bright red asterisks of poppies and needles of prickly pear cacti. We bumped over dirt roads for a long while.  Red mudbrick ruins and cottonwoods lined a stream in the valley.  The landscape was full of broom, apple orchards, olive groves, onion fields and mustard plants or linseed.

I bought a small alabaster dromedary at a rest stop close to 10:00.  Soon after we went through the pass of Tizi-n-Tichka, 2,260 meters high, the highest point of our journey.  We were heading toward Toubkal National Park.

Tizi-n-Tichka
Tizi-n-Tichka
Tizi-n-Tichka
Tizi-n-Tichka

At 10:30, we stopped for pictures over dry brown mountains and a green valley. Then it was a long curvaceous drive over the High Atlas Mountains.  Road construction was everywhere, bumpy gravely roads, construction debris, red dirt and dust flying everywhere.  We passed pottery and mineral vendors.

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a green valley set in brown mountains

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High Atlas Mountains

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High Atlas Mountains

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High Atlas Mountains

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High Atlas Mountains

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High Atlas Mountains

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High Atlas Mountains

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High Atlas Mountains

At a noon bathroom break, I bought some postcards and bookmarks.  We had a grand view north into the valley to the east of Marrakesch.

valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh
valley east of Marrakesh

At 12:30, we stopped at a Pharmacie for many in our group who had caught colds, but the line was too long.

Then we were in a flatter area, still green, but a dusty green.  Shepherds wearing straw hats and vests herded their sheep.  We passed groups of brightly clad and mismatched people standing along the road as if waiting for a bus.

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flat area east of Marrakesh

We stopped after 1:00 at another Pharmacie.  There I bought two pens because my pens were running low on ink.

We drove around the outskirts of Marrakesh and then south on R203 toward Toubkal Parc National, North Africa’s highest mountain range, known by local Berbers as “Idraren Draren” (Mountain of Mountains). It towers above the Haouz plain, dividing it from the Sahara. The High Atlas runs diagonally across Morocco for almost 1,000 km, but the Toubkal region contains the best peaks.  The first roads cut through this region were in the early 20th century.  Before that, there were only mule trails leading from the Sahara to the northern plains. The highest mountain in North Africa is the snow-capped Jebel Toubkal.

We wound along steep mountain roads higher and higher, with linseed, rocks and streams in the valley, and the snow-covered High Atlas before us.  We stopped to eat at a restaurant where I ordered an avocado with shrimp salad and mango juice.  The waiter was terribly disorganized and our meals came out piecemeal. It was a super long and frustrating wait; we were there for 1 1/2 hours. I hate such incompetence and hate waiting around for such a long time when I just want to get to our destination. Of course, Susan was always sympathetic to this: “Oh, he’s so overworked, poor guy.” I, on the other hand, feel that when I’m paying for something, there should be a certain level of competence. I hate wasting so much time sitting around at interminable lunches.

Lunchtime!
Lunchtime!
Lunchtime!
Lunchtime!
Lunchtime!
Lunchtime!
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from the restaurant to Imlil

By 4:00, we’d arrived at Imlil (elevation 1,740m), the launching point for trekkers into the High Atlas. We loaded our bags onto the donkeys, and then hiked uphill to the neighboring Aroumd (aka Armed or Armoud) at 1,960m. We passed a burbling stream, stone houses, a mosque, and shady apple orchards. We crossed wet creek beds, streams and some gravelly terrain.  Many of the group went ahead quickly and left the slower of us behind.  Aziz got irritated that the group was so spread out and wasn’t keeping together as a team.  Several times, we lost sight of those ahead and had no idea at forks in the path where to go.

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loading the donkeys

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loading the donkeys

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loading the donkeys

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Father Anthony brings up the rear

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snow covered High Atlas Mountains

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Imlil to Aroumd

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Imlil to Aroumd

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orchards

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orchards

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the donkeys climbing

Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd
Imlil to Aroumd

I found a nice collection of doors along the way.  They reminded me of Omani doors.

doors from Imlil to Aroumd
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
doors from Imlil to Aroumd
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arrival in Aroumd

We finally arrived at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech, run by Azizi Lacha. We had to redistribute ourselves in rooms: Susan and I shared with Tammy.  We sat on the terrace and had mint tea and fresh popped popcorn.

balcony at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
balcony at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
common room at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech
common room at Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech

From the balcony, we had a view of the mountains.  Aroumd is tucked into the folds of the High Atlas in the Ait Mizane Valley.  Jbel Adj and Jbel Agelzim are two peaks that tower overhead in their snow-covered glory. The air was fresh, clear and cool, and it was pleasant to be so far from civilization and traffic.

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view of the snow-covered High Atlas from Auberge Ifrane a Imlil Marrakech

I went out to take a walk through the village and Yulian (nicknamed Nana) asked if she could come along.  Natalie also joined. We climbed to the top of the village for views into the valley from where we’d started our hike. We kept trying to remember all the turns we took so we’d be able to find our way back: “take a left between 64 & 65 at the green door,” etc.

rug in Aroumd
rug in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd

We took turns posing for pictures near the top of the town and saw the mountains all around as well as the valley below.

High Atlas Mountains
High Atlas Mountains
Natalie in Aroumd
Natalie in Aroumd
Yulian in Aroumd
Yulian in Aroumd
looking into the valley
looking into the valley

We found a poor little kid (goat) with deformed front legs.  Natalie picked some greens and fed them to it.

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Natalie feeds the deformed goat

We walked back downhill by the gardens and a falaj (watercourse).  Natalie and Yulian continued to walk along the falaj, while I walked uphill to a charming house.  A man and woman sitting on the terrace told me a different way I should walk as I was encroaching on their private home.

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gardens near falaj in Aroumd

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me in Aroumd

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village of Aroumd

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gardens in Aroumd

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private home in Aroumd

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gardens in Aroumd

On the way back to the auberge, cheeky little kids kept making finger gestures at me, but I had no idea what they meant. When I said “Salaam u alaykum,” they repeated it to me in a mocking way.  Natalie said when she walked past a little girl, they said hello to one another, but once she’d walked past, she thought the girl said “F*#k” with a smile. I said maybe the girl was saying the Arabic  فـقــد (faqad) or “lost.”  I had remembered learning that word when I studied Arabic and thinking how it sounded like our expression of profanity.

local girl in Aroumd
local girl in Aroumd
door in Aroumd
door in Aroumd

Dinner was communal with couscous and veggies (always overcooked) and roasted chicken and the same old Moroccan soup.  We had orange quarters for dessert. There didn’t seem to be much variety in the Moroccan diet. It was just okay.

The most fun we had was playing a game Gabriel had on his phone, a kind of game where an animal name showed up on the phone and we had to get him to guess it.  Later, we played another version using actions: “picking apples,” “bungee-jumping,” “ventriloquist,” that we acted out to get a person to guess.  It was hilarious!  We were all laughing our heads off.  One answer was “South Africa,” and I said “Hey mon.”  Gabe said, “That’s Jamaica!” and we couldn’t stop laughing. It was a boisterous and crazy time and it was fun because it included everyone in the group and wasn’t cliquish.

Everyone badmouthed poor Father Anthony, and Natalie was supposed to share a room with him in our tight communal quarters, but in protest, she slept in the common area.  It got rather cold in the mountains at night, but we all bundled up in our fuzzy blankets and managed to make it through the night.

*Steps: 12,568, or 5.33 miles*

*Wednesday, April 17, 2019*

**********************

“PROSE” INVITATION: I invite you to write up to a post on your own blog about a recently visited particular destination (not journeys in general). Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose.

One of my intentions was to write about how I revel in (or resist) the experience.  Do I bask in the light, the breeze, the rustling of leaves on the trees?  Do I linger over cuisine and wine? Truly possessing a scene is making a conscious effort to observe closely.

It doesn’t matter whether you write fiction or non-fiction for this invitation.  You can either set your own writing intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose. You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Monday, April 13 at 1:00 p.m. EST.  When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, April 14, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

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  • Cinque Terre
  • Europe
  • Hikes & Walks

the cinque terre: monterosso al mare

wanderessence1025's avatar wanderessence1025 March 22, 2020

We left our “piano apartment” at 8:30 after enjoying a breakfast of yogurt, raspberries, granola, coffee and blood orange juice. After getting the two-day Cinque Terre pass, we took the train from La Spezia to the furthest and largest of the five towns, Monterosso al Mare. It seemed so pleasant and uncrowded when we were on the train and when we first stepped off into the new town, Fegina.

On the train, an African guy sat jangling a bunch of coins from one hand to the other, over and over, until an Italian guy asked him to stop.  Sitting across from us was a young woman with tightly curled blonde hair, very cute, and a light-skinned black man with a smattering of facial hair and modern ear pods.  The blonde seemed quite enamored of her boyfriend.  She kept staring into his eyes dreamily, while he returned her gaze only half-heartedly. He was a bit more aloof, but she persisted until he become engrossed in his music, when her infatuation was disrupted.

Stretched out along the Mediterranean Sea, Monterosso’s new town was quite cute, with beachfront cafes, boats with blue and white striped covers, beach umbrellas and lounge chairs set in a half-moon curve on the glittering beach. Monterosso is the only Cinque Terre town with a proper stretch of beach. Part of Liguria, an area known as the Italian Riviera, it is famous for its anchovies and lemon trees.

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Monterosso al Mare’s new town

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me on the beach at Monterosso al Mare

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beach at Monterosso al Mare

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beach at Monterosso al Mare

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beach at Monterosso al Mare

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breakwater at Monterosso al Mare

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stones on the breakwater

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view of Monterosso al Mare from the breakwater

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Monterosso al Mare

We wandered around a bit until we paused on a bench and studied the map.  We saw we needed to go further, over the San Cristoforo promontory, to the old town, Centro Storico.

cacti in Monterosso al Mare
cacti in Monterosso al Mare
Mike with the cacti
Mike with the cacti
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
boats in Monterosso al Mare
boats in Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Gelato Artigianale
Gelato Artigianale
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare
Monterosso al Mare

On the rocky path, we passed some hotels, a seaside castle and a statue of St. Francis of Assisi with a wolf, and then climbed steeply up to the Convento dei Cappuccini, or Church of the Capuchin Friars, a former monastery.

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beach at Monterosso al Mare

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on the path to the old town

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on the path to the old town

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Ligurian Sea

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grotto on the path

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looking back at Monterosso’s new town

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seaside castle

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statue of St. Francis of Assisi with a wolf

The Chiesa di San Francesco, dating from 1623, had a striped Romanesque facade and a high altarpiece painting of St. Francis. A painting of the crucifixion to the left of the altar is attributed to Anthony van Dyck, the 17th century Flemish master, but I didn’t get a picture.

Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco
Chiesa di San Francesco

Then we walked uphill to a cemetery that fills a ruined castle.  In the Dark Ages, the village huddled within this castle.  This is the oldest part of Monterosso.

cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
view of the old town from the cemetery
view of the old town from the cemetery
view of the old town from the cemetery
view of the old town from the cemetery
view of the Ligurian Sea from the cemetery
view of the Ligurian Sea from the cemetery
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle
cemetery in the ruined castle

In the old town, there was a partial breakwater (a row of giant rocks in the middle of the harbor), designed to save the beach from washing away.  We stopped at a little cafe for cappuccino and Mike got a croissant.  A group of local old men were chatting and laughing loudly, having a grand time. I love the happy sing-song sound of the Italian language, with its emphasized “ay” sounds at the ends of words.  It sounds convivial and joyous.

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old town of Monterosso al Mare

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old town of Monterosso al Mare

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old town of Monterosso al Mare

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old town of Monterosso al Mare

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old town of Monterosso al Mare

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laundry in Monterosso al Mare

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old town of Monterosso al Mare

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old town of Monterosso al Mare

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beach in the old town of Monterosso al Mare

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beach in the old town of Monterosso al Mare

We then took a walk through the old town where, almost immediately, I came upon a scarf shop and bought three scarves for 25€.

We walked past the Church of St. John the Baptist (Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista), with its typical Romanesque-style facade of white marble from Carrara and green marble from Punta Mesco. The marble stripes get narrower the higher they go, making the church appear taller than it really is.  Inside were Ligurian Gothic original marble columns with matching pointed arches. The church dates from 1307.

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Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista

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Chiesa di San Giovanni Battista

We wandered for a while around the town, then began our hike to Vernazza, which I’ll write about in a future post. 🙂

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view of Monterosso from path to Vernazza

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view of Monterosso from path to Vernazza

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view of Monterosso from path to Vernazza

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view of the Ligurian Sea from path to Vernazza

(Half day) *Saturday, April 27, 2019*

**************

On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Magnificent Marvão.

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