~ wander.essence ~

movement & sound in niagara falls

wanderessence1025 November 13, 2018

Monday, I hightail it down the highway, while fields undulate out the window and smokestacks belch. Out the car window, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York rush by in a blur. I cruise, snagged by small town speed limits, and then accelerate across ribbons of asphalt through northern states. Finally, I traipse through the streets of Elmwood Village, mosey into Talking Leaves Books, where books whisper stories, a butterfly journal calls my name and Postcards talk of the End of America.

Tuesday, I’m on a small bus tour of Niagara Falls, the New York side. Texans in the group bemoan the need to be politically correct and wonder what I, a Virginian, think about the furor over Confederate statues. Pready’s Indian accent wafts over the microphone. On the Maid of the Mist, in our blue ponchos, we’re assaulted by a typhoon. Under Bridal Veil Falls, we watch as folks in embattled yellow ponchos climb red stairs against the force of wind stirred up by the raucous falling water. In the semicircle of Horseshoe Falls, we bob in a spot of relative calm, mesmerized and gripping the rails, as the water rushes madly over the precipice looming overhead.

Later, we enter the maelstrom at Cave of the Winds ourselves, bracing against the catapulting gales and showers. We whoop and holler with a mixture of delight and terror. Drenched ponchos whip around, flapping against legs, heads and bodies.

Wednesday night, I’m startled by what sounds like a gunshot outside my Moonlite Motel room. I never find out what it is. In the morning, rain sputters from a gloomy sky as I bump over potholed roads and peeling yellow lines on my way to Prospect Point. There, at the top of American Falls, volumes of water rush seamlessly over boulders and trees and plummet over the cliff. At Terrapin Point, I stand at the brink of Horseshoe Falls and see the tumultuous water tumble headlong into a rising plume of mist.

On the Canadian side, I walk to the brink of Horseshoe Falls, where clear aquamarine water glides over the crest; I’m mesmerized by the calm before it devolves into a tempest below. All nationalities jostle for space at the railings – Chinese tourists taking self-obsessed photos, Muslim families speaking Arabic, women wearing headscarves. They’re chattering, laughing, exclaiming. People are on the move, in Canada, in the U.S. – back and forth across the Rainbow Bridge. There are more diverse nationalities in Canada. This is the way of the future, people migrating, in flux – immigrating, emigrating – and nationalities blending, although many are fighting hard against it.

On Thursday, I walk downriver along the White Water Walk; the unnavigable rapids here churn in confusion and disorder. They’re unruly, untamed. A couple of platforms are slightly above water level, but the river won’t be contained. It sloshes and churns over the platform, soaking our feet. Later, I don a red poncho for Hornblower Cruises, where I stand near the front and get doused under the self-perpetuating storm of Horseshoe Falls.

In the afternoon, butterflies in the Conservatory flit about, impossible to capture on camera. Later, drinking Tempranillo out of silver espresso cups, we watch as a rainbow rises from the mist and stitches itself like woven translucent threads across the blue sky.

Horseshoe Falls from Maid of the Mist

American & Bridal Veil Falls from Maid of the Mist

Maid of the Mist and American & Bridal Veil Falls

American Falls from Prospect Point

Cave of the Winds

Cave of the Winds

Cave of the Winds

Rainbow Bridge

Niagara Falls from the Observation Tower

Bridge across the upper American Falls

Brink of Horseshoe Falls from Terrapin Point

Horseshoe Falls from American side

Above Bridal Veil Falls

Brink of American Falls from point of land between Bridal Veil & American

Horseshoe Falls from Terrapin Point

brink of Horseshoe Falls, Ontario

https://youtu.be/fGcIhnWaJQI

White Water Walk, Ontario

https://youtu.be/UIWciVuyRtQ

At the Butterfly Conservatory

At the Butterfly Conservatory

Rainbows over Niagara Falls

https://youtu.be/E747q9_pzeA

Rainbows and Hornblower Cruise

Horseshoe Falls

Horseshoe Falls at night

*June 25-29, 2018*

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“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. In this case, one of my intentions for my trip to Niagara Falls was to write about movement and sound, using strong verbs and imaginative language.

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 & poetry. (This page is a work in process.) You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Monday, November 26 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, November 27, 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!

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 Travel Words, wrote about conversations she overheard on a bus while traveling solo in San Diego.
- Conversations

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

the crystal forest trail at petrified forest national park

wanderessence1025 November 11, 2018

I returned to Petrified Forest National Park for a second day on Tuesday, May 15. Leaving Holbrook, where I’d spent the night, I passed the sign: Holbrook: Home of the Hashknife Pony Express. Hashknife Pony Express riders have used relays of horses to deliver mail from Holbrook to Scottsdale since 1958, reenacting the Pony Express riders of years past, according to the Navajo-Hopi Observer. The name Hashknife was the name given to a cattle ranch of Aztec Land and Cattle Company. Located around Holbrook and Winslow, it had “60,000 head of cattle and an uncivilized reputation.”

I drove past Northland Pioneer College and the Little Colorado River while Kid Rock sang “All Summer Long” from my playlist. It was not quite summer yet, so the temperature was perfect to be in a desert landscape: 74F degrees and breezy.

Petrified Forest Gift Shop

Petrified Forest National Park

The Crystal Forest Trail at Petrified Forest National Park is only a 0.75 mile (1.2km) loop through a badlands landscape with a scatter of petrified wood. By the time I’d finished walking the loop, I’d done nearly a mile, with all my detours and side explorations.

a scatter of petrified logs

Though it looks like the wood is neatly cut by a wood-chopper, it was actually broken by layers of dirt stacked to make hills. The weight of the dirt crushed the logs, breaking the petrified wood neatly. Silica naturally breaks at a clean angle, much like a dropped piece of chalk.

Crystal Forest

Crystal Forest

Crystal Forest

petrified log

petrified log

Crystal Forest

Crystal Forest

A variety of minerals created the rainbow effect in many pieces of petrified wood.

petrified log

petrified log

Crystal Forest

petrified logs

Crystal Forest

Crystal Forest

Crystal Forest

Since people were looting the petrified wood to use or sell in the late 1800s, the landscape was being threatened. In 1895, the Arizona Territorial legislature petitioned Congress to protect this valuable scientific and cultural treasure. In 1906, President Theodore Roosevelt signed legislation creating Petrified Forest National Monument. The monument became a national park in 1962.

*Tuesday, May 15, 2018*

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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 ‘Not a Monday Walk’.

on returning home from china

wanderessence1025 November 5, 2018

My time teaching English at a university in Nanning in southern China from September 2014 to July 2015 was an adventure and challenge.

The hot and humid weather in Guangxi Province was nearly unbearable. I was soaked in sweat from the minute I walked out my door in the morning until I returned to my air-conditioned apartment. The air was always saturated, even in the winter months. The skies were nearly always hazy, whether from the moisture or pollution.

haze at the Longji Rice Terraces in Guangxi Province

I could never learn Mandarin despite taking a class while there; the tonality was impossible for me to detect or reproduce. Communication, especially when traveling, was challenging. I depended utterly on a translation app and notes made in a small notebook by my students. My students took English names as there was no way I could have ever learned, remembered, or even pronounced 73 Chinese names.

Being on the move with 1.2 billion people was burdensome. It tested my patience. Posing for pictures constantly with random Chinese people wore me out. The late night shouting from the students’ required military exercises on campus made me uneasy. Swarms of motorbikes, much like what I’d seen in Hanoi, moved in synchronicity through the streets, and we crossed streets at our peril.

The meat was almost always gristly, and I resorted to a diet of dumplings, Korean bibimbap and pizza. I was constantly nauseous. Many toilets were utterly disgusting; I often contended with squat toilets or troughs separated by waist high walls, and water didn’t seem to flush away the waste. The smells of China assaulted from all directions.

me at my favorite dumpling restaurant

Of course, there were positives: I never saw such hard-working people as the Chinese.

styrofoam collector in Nanning

It seemed common practice for students to socialize with teachers, and I made a great many memories with them. I had the easiest commute I’d ever had: a 5 minute bicycle ride from my apartment to my classroom. I only worked till noon most days. Free time was in abundance until it wasn’t; when it was time to mark essays, I was caught up in a quagmire of badly constructed paragraphs and Google-translated sentences.

I traveled extensively: to the Longji Rice Terraces and to Yangshuo and the karsts along the Li River in Guangxi Province.

Yangshuo

me with the 20 yuan bill and the picture of the karsts

riding bikes around Yangshuo

karsts and haystacks in Yangshuo

rafting on an offshoot of the Li River

I saw the Terra Cotta Warriors in Xi’an, the beautiful Yunnan Province, the traditional village of Fenghuang, as well as big cities like Hong Kong and Shanghai. My son and my husband came separately to visit and I was able to travel with them around China. I spent a fabulous two weeks in Myanmar, one of my favorite Asian countries.

Fenghuang, China

Kunming, China

atop Jade Dragon Snow Mountain in Yunnan Province

Mirror Lake at the foot of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain

farmland & villages around Shaxi, Yunnan Province

Guanyin and Maitreya, the smiling Buddha, on the cliff ledges at Baoxiang Temple

Alex at Baoxiang Temple

Dali, Yunnan Province

Entrance gate to Yuantong Si in Kunming

dragons at Yuangtong Temple

Stone Forest in Kunming

Hong Kong

View of Xi’an from Big Wild Goose Pagoda

Terra Cotta Army in Xi’an

Longji Rice Terraces in spring

Longji Rice Terraces

***

Escape was in the cards. It was visible on the horizon. I bought a ticket for July 15, 2015 from Nanning to Beijing, China then to Vancouver, then on to L.A. where I would visit my sister near L.A., California for about a week on my way home to Virginia. I had only a 1 1/2 hour layover in Vancouver, and I worried from the outset I might miss the connection, as planes are notoriously late taking off from airports in China.

I left my humble abode in Nanning, China, that Wednesday morning, locking the keys inside. I felt a little strange leaving the place I’d lived for the last year, knowing I would never see it again. Outside, a car arranged by the university was waiting to drive me to the airport. At the airport, I checked in without incident at Shenzhen Airlines for my 9:40 flight.

campus of Guangxi University

I had a 3-hour- 20-minute layover in Beijing and I would check in to Air Canada at the same terminal where I arrived. My plane surprisingly left Nanning on time. When I arrived in Beijing at 12:45 p.m., I picked up my bags from the baggage claim and made my way to Air Canada, where I had to stand in a long, slow-moving line to check my bags back in for the international flight.

Then, I hit a roadblock. The lines for Customs/Immigration were snaking queues with hundreds of people in them, and they were barely moving. I stood in that line for well over an hour. By then I was worried I would miss my plane from Beijing to Vancouver! After sending my bags and tennis shoes and every possession through security, I had only a half hour before we boarded. We boarded and were ready to take off on time; however, air traffic control told the pilot we would have a 30-minute delay, which worried me as I had that short layover in Vancouver.

I realized too late that I was booked into a middle seat, and it couldn’t be changed to an aisle seat because the flight was fully booked. Misery! I sat between two Chinese boys, one of whom spoke both fluent English and Chinese. He was from Los Angeles, but had spent his school years studying in China and would attend Berkeley in the fall. He chatted with me a long time about his plans to do a double major in mechanical engineering and economics. When he talked to the boy on the other side of me, they spoke over me in Chinese. He said, “I hope you don’t mind us talking over you.” I said, half-jokingly, “I don’t mind but I’d rather you switch seats with me!” After several hours, he luckily took me up on my request and gave me his aisle seat, which made my a 10-hour & 20-minute flight marginally more comfortable.

When we arrived in Vancouver at noon, the Chinese boy and I took off together toward our flight bound to L.A. and hit a bottleneck. About 25 people were standing in a slow-moving line. First, an Air Canada attendant asked us to identify our bags on a TV screen. One of my bags was visible on the screen, but the other wasn’t, so she told me to go sit in a room until I could verify both bags. I told her we had a very short connection, but she didn’t seem phased. The Chinese boy had to wait to identify his bags as well. When we finished, we were finally able to get into a slow-moving line through U.S. Customs, which had gotten longer while we were held up. I told one of the officials from the airline that we had a very short connection, but she said, “It’s U.S. Customs and I have nothing to do with that!” I commiserated with the Chinese boy, who was three people behind me, that we were never going to make our flight. Suddenly he pushed his way to the front of the line and I (who can’t stand people who cut in line, and would never do it myself under ordinary circumstances) followed him. He said, “I called my mother and she told me not to talk to the officials. She says I should depend on the kindness of strangers.” We begged the people at the front of the line to let us in so we wouldn’t miss our flight. Luckily, they kindly allowed us to pass, although the poor people behind them had no say in the matter.

At U.S. Customs, the officer asked me where I was staying, and where I lived. I told him and then mentioned that we had a very short connection. He said, in that way that people in positions such as these like to flex their power, “You can’t rush me, lady. I will take as long as I need to take.” I said, “Fine!” Then he asked a few more questions and released me. I won’t mention the name I called him when I was out of earshot.

At that point we saw our gate #83 was at the far end of a long hall, and over the loudspeaker, I heard my name among a list of names for “last call.” I panicked: “That’s us! We need to run!” The boy and I tore through the airport, and barely managed to board the plane. The airline stewardesses closed the door behind us and we took off as scheduled at 1:00 p.m.

I made it to LA right on time, by 4:00 p.m. My sister Stephanie was waiting to pick me up and we headed directly to dinner at a cozy sushi place. We celebrated by drinking hot sake followed by cold Sapporo. I was happy to be with my sister on American soil after one of the longest days of my life. It was still Wednesday, July 15 when I arrived in LA around 4:00 p.m., having left China at 6:30 a.m. that same morning. 🙂

***

A week later, I returned to our house in Virginia, which was a disaster. Our kitchen and deck badly needed replacing. We would embark on a major construction project in early 2016 to redo the kitchen, knocking down the wall between our family room and kitchen. We would also tear down the deck and replace it with a screened-in porch, and change our laundry room into a mudroom/pantry/laundry room.

While I was in China, I had set up an appointment with a gastroenterologist because I had been so sick in China all year. However, as soon as I got home, all my stomach problems mysteriously disappeared. The doctor was baffled as to why I had come in, and he told me to keep eating healthy and exercising and I would probably continue to feel fine.

The one thing I did most religiously once I returned home was to exercise, walking three miles each day. I gained 7 pounds in China, and I was already heavier than I would have liked BEFORE I left for China.

I went to a women’s mid-life retreat in Monterey, Virginia where I found after taking a quiz that these were my top five strengths:

Curiosity and interest in the world
Love of learning
Appreciation of beauty and excellence
Fairness, Equity and Justice
Humor and playfulness

retreat in Monterey, Virginia

Other than my constant exercising, household chores, de-cluttering, moving my kids out and onward, and attending the retreat, I also saw some interesting movies in theaters, including A Borrowed Identity, Trainwreck, Samba, The End of the Tour, Phoenix, Ricki and the Flash, and Mr. Holmes. I made up for the time I lost in China! I also watched the last season of Last Tango in Halifax and got involved in the Danish political series, Borgen.

I was surprised on Thursday, August 6, to get a text message from one of my Chinese students, Christine. She wrote that she was on a train from New York to Washington with her mother and they hoped to take me out to dinner in Washington. Mike and I trekked downtown and took Christine and her mother to the Lincoln Restaurant. Christine’s English wasn’t bad, and her mother could understand and speak limited English. When the server tried to explain the complex dishes, such a far stretch from Chinese dishes, Christine said immediately that all she wanted was meat. She ordered s plate of BBQ ribs, and we had to demonstrate how she should eat them. The plate was almost as big as she was. Neither she nor her mother had any interest in the small plates Mike and I ordered: Ricotta gnocchi, Shrimp & Grits, and the Pennsylvania Chicken Pot Pie. When the waitress put the Shishito Pepper Hush Puppies on the table, Christine asked tentatively: “Is that dog meat?” We were taken aback momentarily by her misunderstanding of the word “puppies,” and we got quite a laugh out of it. 🙂

Christine, me and Christine’s mother visiting in Washington soon after I arrive home

Other than exercising, I worked on a 5-hour free grammar course (more like 10+ hours!) and a pre-task for the course I would beginning September 21 at Teaching House, which ran the University of Cambridge CELTA (the Certificate in English Language Teaching), the most widely accepted TESOL program in the world. It was a month-long highly intensive course.

As for reverse culture shock, I didn’t experience it as much this time as the first two times I returned home from abroad. The main reason was that I’d let go of all expectations. I didn’t expect any friends to contact me. I had found myself whittling down my list of friends each time I returned from abroad as I didn’t feel like bothering to contact people who never made any effort with me. There were people I loved and cared for: people who didn’t judge me and people who made me laugh and people with whom I had a shared history; those people would continue to be part of my life. The others would fall by the wayside, as is the case with friendships left to wither.

I was happy to have spent time in China, dipping myself into a culture that was so far from my American life that daily life lost its monotony, that was, until it became routine. China seems to be demonized by so many countries, but, as is most often the case, it’s difficult to demonize individuals. I enjoyed most of the Chinese folks I encountered, and I came away with an appreciation for the history and the modern day struggles of that teeming and chaotic society.

~ china diaries: catbird’s wanderings through the people’s republic ~

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“ON RETURNING HOME” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about returning home from one particular destination or, alternately, from a long journey encompassing many stops. How do you linger over your wanderings and create something from them? How have you changed? Did the place live up to its hype, or was it disappointing? Feel free to address any aspect of your journey and how it influences you upon your return. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.

For some ideas on this, you can check out the original post about this subject: on returning home.

Include the link in the comments below by Sunday, December 2 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Monday, December 3, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation on the first Monday 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 posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired! See below in the comments for any links. 🙂

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about “on returning home.” 🙂

the giant logs trail at petrified forest national park

wanderessence1025 November 4, 2018

Petrified Forest National Park no longer has the types of forests we normally envision. Back in the day, and I mean during the Triassic Period some 225 million years ago, this part of Arizona was a tropical landscape with abundant vegetation – ferns, horsetails and cycads. Dinosaurs and reptiles roamed under the shade of 180-foot conifers, and fish, clams, snails and crayfish swished their way through rivers.

Over a period of 200 million years, continents moved, regions uplifted, climate changed, and the river system was buried by sediment layers. Today, what we find at Petrified Forest National Park are badlands and painted desert, petrified wood, plant and animal fossils, archeological sites, and artifacts from prehistoric people who once lived here.

I entered the park through the north entrance late on Monday afternoon; I had meant to get an earlier start but had been waylaid by the remnants of Route 66 on my way across Arizona from Flagstaff. I drove 28 miles to the south entrance, stopping briefly at various scenic overlooks, and walked the Giant Logs Trail at the southern Visitor Center. This is only a 0.3 mile self-guided loop through a bunch of colorful petrified wood, but I took a few detours, making the walk longer.

Giant Logs

When the trees originally died some 216 million years ago, they fell into a river and were buried beneath layers of silt, mud, sand, and volcanic ash; these layers protected them from decay. Ground water saturated with minerals percolated through the layers, carrying silica from the volcanic ash. The absorbent dead wood soaked up these minerals; the silica, or quartz, crystals bonded with the cells of the tree replicating the organic material in perfect detail. Eventually, silica replaced the wood material.

This petrified forest is no longer made of wood, but of stone.

Giant Logs

The trail leads through an ancient river bed, once surrounded by dense forest similar to the Amazon Rain Forest. All that’s left of the river today is the deposited sandstone. The trees fell into the river, becoming petrified log jams where the dead trees congregated, were buried, and petrified. This trial leads among log jams that have eroded to the present surface.

Giant Logs

cactus

Giant Logs

cactus

Giant Logs

A variety of minerals created the rainbow effect in many pieces of petrified wood.

Giant Logs

Giant Logs

Old Faithful is a giant log previously called such names as “The Monarch” and “Major Domo.” It measures 35-feet (10.6 meters) long and weighs about 44 tons.

Old Faithful

A favorite visitor attraction, it was named Old Faithful in the 1920s, as it was seen as being what Old Faithful geyser is to Yellowstone National Park.

Old Faithful

Many of the logs bear trace fossils that record the movements of prehistoric animals: footprints, tracks, burrows, borings and feces.

Giant Logs

Though it looks like the wood is neatly cut by a woodchopper, it was actually broken by layers of dirt stacked to make hills. The weight of the dirt crushed the logs, breaking the petrified wood neatly. Silica naturally breaks at a clean angle, much like a dropped piece of chalk.

Giant Logs

Giant Logs

Giant Logs

Nearly a dozen types of petrified wood have been formally identified at Petrified Forest, showing it was once a diverse healthy ecosystem.

Giant Logs

Here are some of the fossils displayed in the Rainbow Forest Museum & Visitor Center.

fossils in the Rainbow Forest Museum & Visitor Center

I got my sticker and stamp at the northern Visitor Center on Monday, and I returned the next day for some longer walks in the park.

Petrified Forest National Park stamp for today

*Monday, May 14, 2018*

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On Sundays, I plan to post various walks that I took on our Four Corners trip as well as hikes I take locally while training for the Camino de Santiago; 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 Walks.

poetic journeys: evensong

wanderessence1025 November 2, 2018

EVENSONG

Bells beckon.  We approach
	the portal of Wells Cathedral,
		umbrellas and cameras in hand,
			one dwindling September day.

From the dimming façade,
	stone eyes of life-size
		kings, knights, and saints
			stare sternly down. They know

we are interlopers here,
	American travelers
		sampling a bit of
			English history.

Inside the massive 
	twelfth-century cathedral,
		under lofty arches
			upheld by thick umbrella ribs,

men and boys 
	in white cassocks
		sing psalms and Old
			Testament stories,

a choir
	of plaintive mourning
		doves and painted buntings
			in autumn twilight.

We perch like treasures
	on embroidered cushions,
		on pews carved into separate thrones,
			seventy tainted souls for the choosing.

Haloes of light
	from miniature lamps
		fall on our fingertips,
			tracing heirloom words

that shimmer on thin parchment
	in The Book of Common Prayer.
		We bow our heads
			like orchids, faces washed

with fading watercolor
	from the stained 
		glass windows.
			Incense, tendrils 

of candle flames
	flutter, like clematis
		curling up
			an invisible lattice.

Through sculpted quatrefoils,
	through prisms of jeweled glass,
		what remains of the day
			is simply the sinking sun,

the violet haze,
	the vague sprinkle 
		of stars, asterisks
			on pale indigo velvet.

The choir’s faces glow
	as if holiness 
		is singing rhapsodies 
			through them.

Their evensong ruffles
	my spellbound heart,
		a water lily trembling
			on a pond’s rippling surface.

Wells Cathedral, Wells, Somerset, England

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“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.

In this case, I was enrolled in a poetry-writing class in Spring 2001, less than two years after we ventured to England for our first European trip. I believe this poem was from an assignment to experiment with run-on free verse. The rhythmic character in run-on free verse derives from strong run-on lines broken between the adjectives and nouns. The breaks are meant to force a slightly abnormal pause. This extra hesitation rhythmically evokes a tentative, uncertain feeling. The choice of where to break the lines is arbitrary.

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, December 6 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, December 7, 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 posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired! See below in the comments for any links.

Thanks to all of you who wrote poetic posts. 🙂

monument valley, arizona

wanderessence1025 November 1, 2018

Monument Valley is a Navajo Tribal Park established in 1958 and located on the border of Arizona and Utah within the 16 million-acre Navajo Reservation. The fragile pinnacles of rock here are surrounded by mesas and buttes, shrubs, trees, and windblown sand, painting a magnificent picture. The 30,000 acres lie about 5,500 feet above sea level and the park is accessible year-round. Rainfall averages 8 inches/year and temperatures range from 25F in winter to 90F in summer.

iconic view approaching Monument Valley

Before human existence, Monument Valley was a vast lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years layer upon layer of eroded sediment from the early Rocky Mountains was deposited in the basin and cemented into sandstone and limestone. Underground pressure slowly uplifted the horizontal strata, creating a plateau of solid rock 1,000 feet high. The natural forces of wind and rain and temperature have cut and peeled away the surface of the plateau over a 50 million year period, leaving the natural formations we see today.

West and East Mitten Buttes (known as the Mittens) are two buttes in the Park. When viewed from the south, the buttes appear to be two gigantic mittens with their thumbs facing inwards.

The Mittens

One mitten

The Mittens

The Mittens and juniper

The Three Sisters resemble three Catholic nuns dressed in habits.

Three Sisters

John Ford’s Point is named for the first Hollywood director to use the Monument Valley location for a film set. The first film was Stagecoach, starring John Wayne. Since then, many major films and TV episodes have been shot using Monument Valley sites. This particular site is often used in automobile commercials. Some famous movies shot here include:

Kit Carson
Billy the Kid
How the West Was Won
The Eiger Sanction
The Legend of the Lone Ranger
Back to the Future III
Thelma and Louise

John Ford Point

Totem Poles

Camel

Monument Valley

Spearhead Mesa

Artist’s Point

The Thumb

Monument Valley

Outside the main part of the park, we found El Capitan and a unique and charming road sign.

El Capitan

El Capitan & sign for Aghaa Lani Road

Because Monument Valley is not a U.S. National Park, I wasn’t able to get a sticker or stamp for my National Park Passport. 😦

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“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!

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 photos (fewer is better) and to write less than 350-400 words about any travel-related photography intention you set for yourself. Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, November 14 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, November 15, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, every first and third 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! See below in the comments for any links.

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

the island trail at walnut canyon national monument

wanderessence1025 October 28, 2018

Before going to Flagstaff for the night, we managed to make it just in time to do the Island Trail at Walnut Canyon National Monument. The Island Trail, a 0.9 mile loop, passes 25 cliff-dwelling rooms built by the Sinagua people and traverses different plant-life zones. The trail has sheer drops along the outer edge and a 185-foot climb (240 steps) back to the canyon rim.

The trail closes at 4:00 and we made it just under the wire, beginning our walk around 3:30.

The Island Trail goes around the edges of the “island” in the photo

Twenty miles long, 400 feet deep and ¼-mile wide, Walnut Canyon was carved by Walnut Creek over a period of 60 million years. Artifacts show that Archaic people, who traveled through the Southwest thousands of years ago, probably occupied the canyon seasonally. These nomads were long gone by the time the only permanent inhabitants, today known as Sinagua (Spanish for “without water”), appeared and built their cliff dwellings between 1125 and 1250.

Archeologists believe women built the homes. The dwellings were made from shallow caves eroded out of the limestone cliffs by water and wind. To form walls, builders gathered limestone rocks, shaped them roughly, then cemented them together with a gold-colored clay found in deposits elsewhere in the canyon. Wooden beams reinforced the doorways. Finally, the walls were plastered with clay inside and out.

Most rooms in this community did not house people. Archeologists think many rooms were used to store food, tools and water. Residents could have stored a 100-day water supply without much difficulty, given large pottery vessels and the abundant storage rooms found in the canyon.

The larger rooms are typical of living spaces, where people slept and sought shelter from inclement weather. Family size is unknown, but several people lived together in one room. Most work took place outside, weather permitting.

Cliff-dwelling at Walnut Canyon

cliff dwellings on the canyon walls opposite

Cliff-dwelling at Walnut Canyon

Mike under a cliff overhand

Cliff-dwelling at Walnut Canyon

Walnut Canyon homes were generally situated on cliff sides facing south and east to take advantage of warmth and sunshine. A few sites faced north and west, probably occupied during the warmer months. Overhanging ledges protected rooms from snow and rain, and shaded them during summer months. Thick walls of stone and mud insulated them from harsh winds and retained essential heat in winter. Small doors were covered with animal skins, mats, cotton cloth, or sticks woven together. Air entered at the bottom, circled past a small fire, and carried most of the smoke out a hole above the door.

the Island Trail with steep drops to the right

cliff dwellings at Walnut Canyon

Cliff-dwelling at Walnut Canyon

Inside the canyon and throughout the pine forests on its rims, the Sinagua made their living by farming, hunting deer and small game, trading, and gathering an assortment of useful plants: prickly pear cactus, banana yucca, mahonia and rockmat, as well as others.

Prickly pear cactus plants have edible pads – spines removed – and sweet juicy fruit.

Rope, twine, needle and thread, floor mats, dyes, paintbrushes, baskets, belts, backpacks, sandals, soap, shampoo, and hairbrushes all came from the banana yucca. When the yucca bloomed, people feasted on the tender flower petals and dried its thick sweet fruit for lean days of winter.

The tart berries of Femont’s mahonia or barberry were a minor food source, but people still seek the roots and bark to make a vibrant yellow dye for baskets and leather. The roots have antimicrobial qualities, as well as the chemical berberine (a strong alkaloid), which made them a cure-all. Better known alkaloids include caffeine, morphine and quinine.

Navajo collect rockmat for ceremonies, the only documented use today. Other uses for rockmat may now be lost to us.

prickly pear cactus

yucca

Mahonia

prickly pear cactus

Rockmat

We walked around the south end of the Island Trail, sunny and bright today.

the Island Trail

cliff dwellings opposite

north side dwellings

north side dwellings

dwellings on cliff opposite

dwellings on cliff opposite

During the years when the Sinagua lived here, settlements ranged from the eastern slopes of the San Francisco Peaks northeast to the Little Colorado River and south to the Verde River Valley. Trade items found in dwellings include turquoise from the Santa Fe area, seashell ornaments from the Gulf of Mexico and the Gulf of California, and macaw feathers from Mexico.

The cliff dwellings were occupied for little more than 100 years. By 1250, the residents had moved to new villages a few miles southeast along Anderson Mesa, and, it is believed eventually assimilated into Hopi culture. The Hopi today call their ancestors the Hisatsinom (“people of long ago”). Their tradition suggests that these early migrations were part of a religious quest to have all clans come together.

I added yet another sticker and stamp to my National Parks passport. 🙂

Walnut Canyon National Monument sticker and stamp

*Sunday, May 13, 2018*

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

anticipation & preparation: japan

wanderessence1025 October 26, 2018

In late February of 2017, I was offered a job teaching EFL to Japanese university students in Japan for the spring term (April 7 — August 1). I opted to extend my stay for one week, until August 8, so I could travel around Japan for a week.

I would be living in Sagamihara City in Kanagawa Prefecture, part of the greater Tokyo metropolitan area. The capital of Kanagawa is Yokohama, the second largest city in Japan by population (3.7 million); it lies on Tokyo Bay, south of Tokyo, in the Kantō region of the main island of Honshu, and is today one of Japan’s major ports.

I was to leave on Monday morning, March 27, and would arrive at Narita Airport in Tokyo on Tuesday, March 28 at 3:55 p.m.

cherry blossoms at Shinjuku Gyoen Garden

Ferris Wheel at Yokohama Cosmo World Amusement Park

sake barrels at Meiji Shrine

couple at Sankeien Garden

Sankeien

I read a number of practical books to get ready for my time in Japan:

Living Abroad in Japan by Ruth Kanagy (Moon Handbooks)
Etiquette Guide to Japan: Know the rules that make the difference! by Boyé Lafayette De Mente

These were the books I took along on my trip:

Japanese phrase book & dictionary by Berlitz Publishing Co.
Tokyo: 29 Walks in the World’s Most Exciting City by John H. Martin and Phyllis G. Martin
Lonely Planet: Japan

I always love to read novels and travelogues set in a country to which I’m traveling. Over the years, and in the months prior to my upcoming trip, I read the following novels and memoirs. If I wrote a review on Goodreads, I’ve included it here.

Crawling at Night. Though this novel takes place in New York City, it tells the story of a Japanese sushi chef. It was written by a friend of mine, Nani Power.
When the Emperor was Divine by Julie Otsuka.
A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki:
- I enjoyed this book about Ruth, a “stuck” author, who cannot seem to finish the memoir of her mother’s death. Instead, she happens upon a diary that has washed up on the shore of the island where she lives with her husband. The diary is written by 16-year-old Nao, a Japanese girl who grew up in Sunnyvale, CA but had to move back to Tokyo when her father lost his job after the dot.com bubble burst. In Tokyo, she is subjected to harassment by her classmates; in addition, she has to deal with her father’s multiple failed suicide attempts. Nao is writing the diary to tell her great-grandmother Jiko’s story, but she ends up not really completing that mission, as the diary is mostly focused on her own life. Jiko, a Buddhist nun, has lived to the ripe age of 104 and has a strong influence on Nao’s life. Ruth, the author who finds the diary, gets caught up in Nao’s story and worries she might have been killed in the 2011 tsunami. There are interesting twists with time and quantum physics and multiple & parallel worlds toward the end, which makes the story even more fascinating. I learned a little something about quantum physics, which seems way out of my league, but the author made the subject accessible. I enjoyed the book immensely.
The Ginger Tree by Oswald Wynd:
- I enjoyed this book which is written as journal entries and letters. A young Scotswoman, Mary Mackenzie, sails to China in 1903 to marry a military attache in Peking; her marriage is unsatisfying, and when she has a love affair with a Japanese nobleman, her daughter is taken from her and she becomes an outcast from the European expat community. Two years after arriving in China, she ends up in Japan, where she lives for 37 years, only sporadically seeing her married Japanese lover, yet having a son by him. She is open about her struggles and her status as a “fallen woman,” yet she still can never resist her lover, despite his taking her Japanese-looking son from her. If the child had looked white and European, the child would have been able to stay with his mother. Since he looks Japanese, he is sent off to be raised by a Japanese family, as the lover is already married with his own family. This is a story about a woman’s survival, resilience, and enduring love, both for a man and for a country. I found this line, written in 1942, to be particularly resonant: “There is nothing like living in a country as an enemy alien to really thin down the roster of your friends.”
Moshi Moshi by Banana Yoshimoto:
- I enjoyed this quiet book about Yocchan, a young woman trying to create a life for herself after her much-loved musician father is found dead in a suicide pact with an unknown woman. She moves into a small apartment across the street from a bistro where she works in Shimokitazawa, in an attempt to establish some independence for herself, when her bereaved mother asks to move in with her. Though living with her mother is not exactly what Yocchan has in mind, she can’t turn her mother down. Yocchan’s daily life is like a meditation: she revels in her repetitive tasks in the bistro, walks in the neighborhood, and engagement with the local shopkeepers. She comes to fully appreciate her mom and her now-deceased father. She derives pleasure from watching people and how they eat; she believes a person’s relationship with food reveals nuances of character. The title of the book, Moshi Moshi, is “hello” in Japanese when talking on the phone; it reflects Yocchan’s obsession with her father’s phone, which he inadvertently left behind on the day he died. She has recurring dreams that her father is trying to reach her by phone, as if he has some unfinished business with Yocchan and her mother, some last message he wants to impart. The book is like a Buddhist meditation on life – quiet yet revealing and, ultimately, satisfying.

Izuna Gongen-do Hall on Mt. Takao, or Takaosan

Here are books I’ve read about the shameful period in U.S. history when we put the Japanese into internment camps during WWII.

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford:
- How ironic that I was reading this book as the Donald Trump campaign was raging here in America. Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet is first and foremost a story about love and family, but it is set in 1942 Seattle during the unsettling time after Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor. Japanese-American families were rounded up and put into internment camps because Americans feared there were spies among them. Though told they were being imprisoned “for their own safety,” they were in fact treated just as Trump today would have all minorities treated: walled-off, separated and denied rights. Although the Japanese were not methodically murdered or used in horrific scientific experiments as the Jews were under Hitler, their homes and belongings were taken from them and they were forced to live in camps under armed guard for the duration of the war.
- The protagonist, Henry, is a Chinese-American whose father is consumed by the Japanese atrocities in China. His father’s obsession with the Japanese as enemies, and the fear that Henry might be misidentified as Japanese, leads his father to insist on Henry wearing an “I am Chinese” button. Henry attends an all-white school on scholarship and is continually bullied by the white students for being different. When Keiko, a Japanese-American girl, appears at school, Henry and Keiko strike up a friendship that is strained not only by Henry’s family’s fears, but by the unsettling historic events around them. I found the book disturbing but also redeeming. While living through our unsettling political times, I could only hope that we wouldn’t repeat this dishonorable period in U.S. history.
The Japanese Lover by Isabel Allende:
- This book seemed so promising, but in the end, I felt it just didn’t deliver. I’d say my star rating is more of a 3.5 than a 3. This story of a love affair between a Japanese man, Ichimei, who spent much of WWII in a Japanese internment camp in the USA, and a Jewish woman, Alma, whose parents perished in WWII, just skimmed the surface. For such a love affair, one that Alma supposedly counted as the love of her life, she couldn’t make the leap to give up her wealth and her station in life to marry a Japanese man. The parallel story of Irina, a care worker at Lark House nursing home, and Seth, Alma’s grandson, isn’t all that intriguing either. I agree with another reviewer who said the story seemed to be hurriedly written. There was more telling than showing, and not much dialogue, and it just seemed generally without structure or deep feeling. I expected more from Isabel Allende; overall I found it disappointing.

Mountain Streams in Summer and Autumn by Suzuki Kiitsu at the Nezu Museum (photo from a postcard)

Finally, I read a number of books about Zen Buddhism.

Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind: Informal Talks on Zen Meditation and Practice by Shunryu Suzuki
Discover Zen: A Practical Guide to Personal Serenity by David Fontana
The Beginner’s Guide to Zen Buddhism by Jean Smith

Chureito Pagoda

Chureito Pagoda & Mt. Fuji

garden at Hokokuji Temple (The Bamboo Temple)

Hokokuji Temple (The Bamboo Temple) in Kamakura

I put quite a few books on my Kindle and I also brought along the following novels to read while I was in Japan:

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto
The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka
An Artist of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
A Dictionary of Mutual Understanding by Jackie Copleton
Snow Country by Yusanari Kawabata
Kokoro by Natsume Sōseki
A Separation by Katie Kitamura
The Lake by Banana Yoshimoto
Beauty and Sadness by Yasunari Kawabata
How to Be an American Housewife by Margaret Dilloway

carvings at Toshogu Shrine in Nikko

the A-Bomb Dome in Hiroshima

the floating torii at Itsukushima Shrine on Miyajima

bridge over lotus pond at Danjo Garan at Mt. Koya

I was excited about meeting my Japanese university students. I looked forward to exploring the Tokyo area (using my 29 Walks book), eating a lot of Japanese food, and hopefully finding time to visit Hiroshima at some point. I felt certain other expats in Japan would be able to advise me on other good places to visit. As I would be working 9-hour days during the weeks, I wasn’t sure how much time I’d have to wander, but I looked forward to exploring as much as I could over the four month period. 🙂

~ catbird in japan | the land of temples and what-nots ~

*March 23, 2017*

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“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, November 22 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, November 23, 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!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired! As I’m still in Spain/Portugal, see below in the comments for any links.

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about anticipation and preparation. 🙂

the call to place: japan

wanderessence1025 October 25, 2018

My strange and unexpected fascination with Kyoto, Japan started, quite simply, with a visit to What the Book? in the Itaewon neighborhood of Seoul, South Korea. Browsing through the travel section in December, 2010 when my son Alex was visiting, I come across a book by Pico Iyer called The Lady and the Monk: Four Seasons in Kyoto. The picture on the front was enticing enough, the photograph divided diagonally into two parts. On the top triangle was a Japanese lady in a mustard colored kimono, holding an umbrella by her side. On the bottom was a city street with neon signs and fast-moving headlight beams, like red and yellow silk threads, speeding down the length of the streets.

Inspiration

The blurb on the back cover said Pico Iyer decided to go to Kyoto and live in a monastery, to learn about Zen Buddhism from the inside, to get to know one of the loveliest cities in the world, and to experience Japanese culture. To be honest, this was what hooked me and caused me to open the book. On the first page he described an accidental encounter with Japan, which occured only because of an overnight layover on a flight to somewhere else. In the morning, he walked outside: “As I began to walk along the narrow lanes, I felt, in fact, as if I were walking through a gallery of still lifes. Everything looked exactly the way it was supposed to look, polished to a sheen, and motionless.”

the curving staircase at Eikan-do

There were multiple things that appealed to me about the whole premise of this book. I was enthralled. First, the idea of Japan as a “still life” was intriguing. I didn’t have any interest in going to Japan as I feared it would be a repeat of Korea. Many Koreans told me Japan was just like Korea. Of course, many of those Koreans had never left their own country, so I didn’t know why I should have believed them. Then several fellow English teachers I knew in Korea also said it was about the same. These comments steered me away from Japan because I’d explored many corners of Korea during the year and I really didn’t want to spend my time and money flying to Japan to see more of the same. Nothing in Korea could honestly be compared to a “still life.” But those two simple words shifted my perspective. They felt like an invitation into a painting, a piece of art awash with color and beauty, with elegant gardens and exquisite taste.

pretty little what-nots

still life in Kyoto

The other thing that piqued my interest was Pico Iyer’s desire to learn about Zen Buddhism. In Korea, I had put off time and again doing a temple stay. I finally ended up doing one, but only toward the end of my stay in late February of 2011, after I’d been to Japan (temple stay at golgulsa sunmudo ~ a surprise encounter with monk-type martial arts). This interest in Zen was one of the things that fascinated me about this book, and about Japan.

Heian-jingu Shrine

the golden pavilion at Kinkaku-ji

I enjoyed Japanese food, especially sushi that I’d eaten in the U.S. I loved to see ornamental gardens and the cultivation of beauty all around. After all, I used to take classes in interior design and had a small interior design business of my own for a while. I decorated my own house in Virginia from top to bottom. I’ve always been drawn to exuberant colors. I loved the idea of ritual. I loved the idea of tea ceremonies and flower arranging, although I’d never participated in either.

garden in Kyoto

temple in Kyoto

Tempura in Kyoto

colorful change purses

typical shop in Japan

Years ago, I read Memoirs of a Geisha. I found the geisha culture fascinating, though disturbing on many levels. I also read the book Hiroshima, by John Hersey, a moving and highly disturbing personal story of that city’s residents who survived the nuclear attack in 1945. I used to think if I ever visited Japan, I would have to go to Hiroshima where it is said you can see outlines of people who were vaporized by the bomb on concrete walls. I didn’t know if this was simply a legend. Anyway, I’d talked to people who visited Hiroshima and they said it is extremely depressing, much like visiting the Holocaust Museum in Washington, I assume. An educational and moving and disturbing voyage, something everyone should do. It wouldn’t be something I would do on my first visit.

girls in kimono at Heian-jingu Shrine

girls in kimono drinking from a well of good fortune at kiyomizu-dera temple

I wasn’t knowledgeable overall about Japanese culture. So I looked forward to spending five days in Kyoto over the lunar new year in February, 2011. I looked forward to painting myself, a mere fleeting brushstroke, into the “still life” of Kyoto conjured up by Pico Iyer.

the famous rock garden at Ryoan-ji, or Temple of the Peaceful Dragon

the cute little Randen Railway

the Bamboo Path at Arashiyama

ema at Nonomiya

celebration of Lunar New Year at Tenryuji Temple

me going bicycling in Kyoto

the infinite torii gates at Fushimi-Inari-Taisha

All photos are from my first visit to Kyoto in February, 2011.

Fast forward to late February of 2017, six years after my first visit to Japan. I was offered a job teaching EFL to Japanese university students in Japan beginning on March 28, 2017 (the term actually began April 7 and ended August 1). I opted to extend my stay for one week, until August 8, so I could travel around Japan for a week. As I’d always wanted to visit Hiroshima, I’d have to incorporate a visit into that journey.

My short trip to Kyoto in February 2011 had been delightful. I loved the Buddhist temples, the ubiquitous vending machines, Japanese food, the cleanliness and efficiency of everything. I looked forward to exploring as much of Japan as I could in the four months I’d be there.

I would live in Sagamihara City in Kanagawa Prefecture, part of the greater Tokyo metropolitan area. The capital of Kanagawa is Yokohama, the second largest city in Japan by population (3.7 million); it lies on Tokyo Bay, south of Tokyo, in the Kantō region of the main island of Honshu, and is today one of Japan’s major ports.

~ catbird in japan | the land of temples and what-nots ~

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

“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.

Please include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, November 21 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, November 22, I’ll include your links in that post. 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! As I’m still in Spain/Portugal, see below in the comments for any links.

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

things i learned in niagara falls, ontario

wanderessence1025 October 23, 2018

I learned that a bed and breakfast in Niagara Falls can be way over the top, an extravaganza of color, turrets, kitsch and knick-knacks.

I learned that the view of Horseshoe Falls is all-encompassing and stunning from the Canadian side.

I learned that Hornblower Cruises is the Canadian boat ride into the tumult of the horseshoe, and that passengers wear red ponchos.

I learned that when it’s a gloomy day, I feel gloomy, and when it’s sunny, I feel sunny. 🙂

I learned that there is a Ten Thousand Buddha Temple north of Niagara Falls where monks are dedicated to spreading peace and understanding of dharma philosophy.

I learned that Niagara-on-the-Lake is charming little town but there isn’t much to do there.

I learned that the waitress at Fouros Greek Restaurant seemed a bit terrified when preparing the flaming saganaki for many customers.

I relearned that I despise eggs with runny whites. (Not that I ever forget!)

I learned that at the brink of Niagara Falls a speed of 109km/hour has been recorded, while downriver where the Niagara River expands, it reaches 40km/hour. At the White Water Walk, they reach 48km/hour, making them Class 6 rapids.

I learned that Class 6 rapids, the highest level, are extremely difficult to maneuver due to steep vertical drops and boulders; Class 6 is usually considered unrunnable.

I learned that the Whirlpool Rapids run for 4km through Niagara Gorge and have standing waves of 3-5 meters, caused not by rock obstructions but by the sheer force of water being channeled through the narrowing gorge.

I learned that tightrope walkers are known as funambulists.

I learned that the first person to cross the Gorge on a rope was Jean Francois Gravelet “Blondin.” In 1860, he carried a 56-lb. stove on his back. Dressed in a chef’s uniform, he carried 3 tin plates, a small hand bellows, a spirit lamp, wooden matches and some flammable tar pitch. After putting down the stove on one part of the rope, he cooked up a two-egg omelet and ate it.

I learned that Barrel Rider Maude Williams got caught the swirling vortex of the whirlpool for six hours in 1901 and died of suffocation because her pet dog, who accompanied her, put his nose into the only hole in the barrel, cutting off her air supply.

I learned that daredevil performances began in 1859 to meet the demands of spectators. Because of fatalities, they were made illegal in 1911. Violators are now fined $10,000.

I learned that Harriet Tubman and other slaves made their way into Canada on the suspension bridge over the Niagara River in 1856.

I learned that you can take your kids down a garish street with haunted houses, wax museums, a Ferris wheel, a bowling alley, Ripley’s Believe It or Not, fast food joints, and tacky souvenir shops.

I learned that even though I hate loud, kitschy arcades like the ones on Centre Street, I love taking photos of them.

I learned it’s fun to spend time with an old friend who you haven’t seen in five years.

I learned that I’m not patient enough to capture butterflies on camera.

I learned it’s fun to walk around drinking Tempranillo in silver espresso cups with a good friend.

I learned that in Canada they use the term “open carry” to refer to walking around with an open alcoholic beverage while in America we use it to refer to openly carrying a firearm in public.

I learned that seeing waterfalls and rainbows under blue skies, while chatting with an old friend, make my day.

I learned that I’m lucky to have friends in life, like Mona Lisa, who never fail to make an effort with me. She lugged a bottle of wine and silver cups in her backpack all the way from Waterloo on the bus, and she treated me to the Butterfly Conservatory.

I learned that the power of water never fails to amaze.

I learned that after sundown, Horseshoe Falls is lit in candy-colors of green, turquoise and pink.

I learned I always enjoy meeting European travelers in the U.S.

A Moment in Time B&B

My room in A Moment in Time B&B

The breakfast room at A Moment in Time

Hornblower Cruises & Horseshoe Falls

Ten Thousand Buddha Temple

Niagara-on-the-Lake

White Water Walk

Ripley’s Believe It or Not

Centre Street

Ferris wheel and bowling on Centre Street

Fudge on Centre Street

Butterfly Conservatory

Butterfly in the Conservatory

Rainbow over Horseshoe Falls

Double rainbow and Hornblower Cruises

Mona Lisa at Horseshoe Falls

me at Horseshoe Falls

Brink of the Falls

Brink of the Falls lit up at night

*June 27-28, 2018*

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

“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. In this case, one of my intentions for my trip to Niagara Falls, Ontario was to write a “things I learned” list in each place.

Include the link in the comments below by Monday, November 12 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, November 13, 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!

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. See below in the comments for any links. 🙂

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

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