How did you learn about Vaughantown?

That's a question that I've been asked numerous times since announcing that Tom and I are heading to Spain in May and participating in a Vaughantown English class the first week we are there.  Well, here's how it happened.

I'm always interested in travel and last July, I attended a special interests class at my local college.  The class was about "Travel Careers", and creating your own future in travel.  Yes, I have a great job and a great career, but I'll admit, travel has always been my first love.  So, I signed up for the class, purchased a Subway sandwich for my lunch, and arrived in the classroom, eagerly waiting to learn how I could start a new career, or at the very least, supplement the one I have (like I don't have enough on my plate!!).

The class was actually quite informative but one thing that stood out to me was the instructor's introduction of "free travel in Spain".  Now, with the words "free" and "Spain" in the same sentence, how does one not pay attention?  The instructor explained the Vaughantown program and it intrigued me - visit Spain, spend a week with international Spanish business people and practice English with them all day long.  All expenses paid.  Hmmmm........ of course I was interested and as soon as I got home,  I convinced Tom to apply with me, and we were both accepted to the May 2013 class!

So, in three weeks, we depart for Madrid.  I'll keep you posted on how this goes!  We've received several "what to expect" letters and I'm really looking forward to this experience.  We are staying in a hotel that was, at one time, a monastery, in the mountain town of Rascafria.  To my understanding, the monastery is still there and monks live and work on the hotel grounds.  I am so intrigued and excited by this opportunity.  Clearly, I'm planning another chapter in Extraordinary Travels on an Ordinary Couple, book 2!

A visit to Spain

We leave for Madrid, Spain on May 8 - a month away!  Somehow, I managed to talk Tom into joining me on a trip that is half sight seeing, half volunteer work, but undoubtedly, all FUN!  We're going to volunteer with a group called Vaughantown the first week, staying in the mountain village of Rascafria, and teaching English to Spanish Business people!  I can't wait - I've heard so many good things about this program, and when Tom and I applied last August, we were accepted.  I will be sending updates to this blog and my Facebook page as we work - it's going to be fun, new friends shall be made, and most certainly, I'll gather the content for a new chapter in a second book of "Extraordinary Travels of an Ordinary Couple"!!! 

Has anyone been to Spain?  Have you ever participated in a program like Vaughantown?  Let me know if you have, I'm open to your ideas and thoughts!  In the meantime, I'm planning the itinerary, reading through the contents of my Spain travel guides, and scrambling to put it all together!  How time flies when we are having fun.

Sandy

Soaring on Wings Like Eagles

 

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. ~ Isaiah 40:31, NIV

 

I saw the first bald eagles of the season the day after Thanksgiving.  The pair was standing in a field, feasting on a prairie dog, oblivious to the noise of the cars flying past them on the nearby road.  I slowed as I rounded a corner in the road, the large birds catching my attention  and when I realized what they were, I quickly pulled off to the side and turned on my emergency flashers to caution the cars still racing past me.  I watched the regal birds as they devoured their prey, performing a slow and timeless ritual of feasting on the helpless rodent they had no doubt caught and killed just moments before I came upon them.   I noticed their rhythm - as one would lower its head to eat, the other would stand erect, surveying the surroundings for signs of trouble, taking turns accordingly as they devoured the meal.  Without warning, in tandem, they flapped their wings and raised to the sky, soaring up and away from the sight of their kill.  The meal was over, they were moving on and I watched them, feeling a slight twinge of envy as they raised effortlessly over the field, soaring higher and higher into the sky and circling away from sight.  

 

I stared around me for a moment, surprised that no other cars had even slowed, much less pulled over or stopped, to view this wonderful spectacle.  I suspect that the drivers were all moving so quickly, preoccupied with whatever was on their minds, they did not even notice the large birds in the field.  I pulled back into the traffic, and headed on towards home.  As I rounded the next bend, I saw the sign for a reservoir and bird sanctuary ahead and decided to pull in and take a walk - it was a nice day and the sight of the eagles had whet my appetite for viewing more birds of prey.  I found a parking spot, pulled my iPod out of my purse, plugged in the headset and turned on the music playlist, and began my walk along the path towards the lake.

 

I walked the half mile from the parking lot to the lake alone, then paused at the shore, watching the wood ducks and the Canadian geese as they swam effortlessly through the still waters of the reservoir, creating small ripples on the smooth lake as they moved.  After a few moments of watching and waiting, I decided to continue walking and turned to head back towards the path.  As I walked the music on my iPod changed, and the Brandon Heath song, "Wait and See", came on.  The song lyrics started soft and slow and I recognized the song, and thought briefly about changing it.  The music was a slower pace and I felt energized being outdoors - I wanted something with a faster beat to keep my feet moving quickly.  I was preparing to glance down and begin the process of changing the selection when something above me caught my eye, and I paused to look up into the blue sky.  There they were - the pair of bald eagles, soaring and circling above my head.

 

I stopped in wonder, peering straight above me and watching the beautiful pair dip and soar, gliding along with the wind currents and moving effortlessly several feet above my head.  "He's not finished with me yet," came the words in my iPod headset, as Brandon Heath continued to croon.  "Still wondering why I'm here, still wrestling with my fear, but OH, he's up to something..."   The words of the song and the soaring eagles above my head gave me a pause and I suddenly heard the message - "He's not finished with me yet... He's not finished with me yet."  New hope sprang into my heart - God has a plan, and it's not over yet.   The promise of Isaiah 40:31 came instantly into my mind - "But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

As the lyrics of the song rang in my ears and the words of the Prophet Isaiah populated my mind, I watched the eagles soar effortlessly above the ground, dipping, gliding and moving with the currents of the wind, and I felt and knew that God was there.   The eagles were a sign of encouragement, reminding me to keep my hope in the Lord and soar on wings like eagles, as I allow him to finish the work that He has started in me.  I watched the birds as they continued their mesmerizing dance, then slowly, as the song wound down and came to an end in my headset, the birds flapped their mighty wings, banked to the west, and moved away from me.  I watched until they were out of sight.

How grateful I am that I noticed the pair of bald eagles in that field and that I took the time to stop and watch them, opening myself to the message the sight ultimately delivered to me. I wondered, how many times has God tapped on my shoulder with the intention of delivering a message, but I've been to busy to stop and listen?  Feeling a renewed sense of enthusiasm and a lighter step in my walk, I returned to the car and drove home as the lyrics of the song continued to play in my mind, reminding me that, "He's not finished with me yet." 

 

Photo by Tom McMillen

 

The Most Important Travel Tip

If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world. ~ Francis Bacon

Our buddy Pete was a world-traveler in his youth and I learned my most important travel tip from watching him.  No matter where we visit with Pete he always takes time to speak to the restaurant staff by name.  He will discreetly read the person’s name tag and address them by name when they approach our table.  If no name tag is present he makes the effort to listen when the waitperson introduces themselves and refers to them by name throughout our time at their table. 

 

This small habit makes a significant difference, not only to those of us being served but to the person serving.  I can remember a specific situation where this habit impacted me more than at any other time.  Pete, his lovely wife Wendy, Tom and I had met in Las Vegas for a long weekend of fun.  We’re not gamblers but Pete was there for a conference and we hadn’t seen each other in a very long time so it made for a good opportunity to be together.  As we sat down in a small café inside one of the mega-hotels on the strip a young woman came to take our order.  She looked bored and uninterested in being there and as I thought about it later, I considered that she is likely treated as a non-entity by most of her customers, there to bring the food, clean up the dishes and perhaps carry a complaint to the cook.  I could understand why she seemed jaded as she approached our table. 

 

I observed Pete glance casually up at her name tag while she handed us the menus.  “Hello Amber”.  He said pleasantly.  Immediately her face changed, registering curiosity and interest.  He went on with a smile, looking up at her as he spoke.  “What do you recommend?  We’ve never been here before.”  Her surprise was clear and she seemed rattled, not sure how to answer his question.  It was glaringly obvious to me at that moment – Amber was seldom, if ever, addressed as a person in this role.  Clearly, she was unsure how to respond to Pete.  His questions were genuine and he was expectantly waiting for a recommendation. 

 

After a moment of flustered surprise, Amber gathered herself together and shared the highlights of the menu.   We placed our orders, thanked her and moved to our conversation as she turned towards the kitchen.  When she returned with our food I noticed that she lingered an extra minute, ensuring we were all satisfied with our choices.  I took advantage of the lingering moment and asked her a few questions about herself.  She opened up to all of us and soon was sharing fun ideas for things to see and do that did not depend on gambling and providing her personal recommendations for places to eat with the locals, avoiding the expensive and often mediocre restaurants along the strip.  Her face became animated as she shared and she came back frequently to ensure that we remained satisfied with our dinners. 

 

When the meal was over we gave her a nice tip and thanked her again.  I noticed that she watched us as we left, smiling as we departed the restaurant.  It was that simple gesture of reading her name tag and acknowledging her as a person that made all the difference.  Pete was no different after the encounter – that’s just what he does and who he is.  He sees people and responds to them as fellow human beings.  But for Amber, he had made an impact.  Her mood was lifted and she was smiling when we left.  I had to wonder how this change had been perceived by her other customers.  How long before the bored, jaded look would be back on Amber’s face, brought on by unseeing customers?  Such a simple step, reading a name tag or listening to someone’s name, but what a significant impact it can have on the person you meet. 

 

What did you see today?

18 Hours in San Francisco

San Francisco, Taxis in San Francisco

"No city invites the heart to come to life as San Francisco does.  Arrival in San Francisco is an experience in living."  ~ William Saroyan


I recently spent 18 hours in San Francisco on a quick business trip.  I've been to the city many times before and always enjoyed it as a tourist - this time, I was here to give a quick presentation to Directors of the company, then turn around and head back home with no tourism involved.   I landed at SFO and hailed a cab to my downtown hotel.  As I climbed in the back and gave the address to my driver, he politely nodded and navigated us out and onto the freeway, quickly exiting the airport and entering the rush hour traffic.  The driver said nothing and for a few minutes I didn't either, but as the traffic grew thick and we slowed to a crawl, I leaned forward and asked my driver if he was having a good day.  He looked up into his rearview mirror in surprise, staring at me as though I had asked a very bizarre thing.  Then he nodded.  "Yes," he said in heavily accented English.  "And you?"  "I am, thank you!  Where are you from?"  I asked.  He paused, focusing on the tangled standstill traffic around us.  Again, he slowly raised his eyes to meet mine in the rearview mirror and said quietly, "Russia".  His eyes dropped back to the traffic and he said nothing more.  I pondered his reaction for a moment.  Had he experienced prejudice from other customers upon admitting the country of his heritage?  He seemed uncomfortable at having to answer this question.  I smiled brightly.  "I've never been to Russia," I said.  "Tell me more about your home town."  Immediately his eyes met mine again and this time, a smile played at the corner of his mouth.  He launched into a story about the beauty of his hometown on the shores of the Baltic Sea and for the remainder of the trip downtown, we discussed his family in Russia, his desire to return and raise his children there and the many things he has seen and done during his time in San Francisco.  When I exited the cab at my hotel he was beaming and pleasant, moving quickly to carry my bag to the entrance and thanking me for my patronage of his cab. 

It was dinnertime when I checked in and I was starved, so I quickly unpacked in my room then headed downstairs to the lobby to inquire about nearby restaurants.  After a quick visit with the concierege I selected an Italian restuarant three blocks away and headed out into the busy street in search of dinner.  I found the restaurant with ease and was greeted by a pleasant waiter who seated me near a window and served my dinner with a flourish.  I noticed his name - Emiliano.  When he returned with my check I inquired where he was from.  Emiliano straightened a bit and beamed proudly as he declared his hometown to be San Gminagno, Italy.  I smiled.  "I was just there in December," I told him.  "It's a beautiful village."  Emiliano's smile widened and he quickly inquired about my recent time in Tuscany.  "Did you visit Volterra?"  he asked, and when I replied that I had, he touched his fingers to his lips in a flourished kiss and proclaimed that Volterra was, to him, a most lovely city.  I couldn't help but agree.  We spoke for a few more minutes, sharing stories of our favorite places in Italy and he gave me ideas of new places to visit.  I left the restaurant smiling - my conversation with Emiliano had brought back such pleasant memories of my recent trip.

The next morning I checked out of the hotel and moved quickly to the curb to hail a cab to my meetings.  An elderly cab driver picked me up and again, I noticed the heavy accent as we pulled away from the curb.  "Where are you from?"  I inquired.  "Armenia," he said proudly.  We talked for a few minutes about San Francisco, the tourists and the busy streets, and when we pulled up to my office building I handed him the fare and a generous tip.  He turned and smiled broadly at me saying, "I like you, lady.  You have treated me so well.  I hope all goes good for you."  I thanked him and hurried into my building, thinking of the different people I had already met in San Francisco and the different stories of their lives each of them shared with me.

I had one cab ride left, from my downtown office back to the airport.  The concierge at the hotel had arranged for a car to pick me up at noon and return me to SFO and as I exited the office, my car and driver were waiting.  I grinned to myself - I felt so special!  The driver was very kind and quickly loaded my bags into the trunk and offered me a cold bottle of water for the ride.  "My name is Sandro," he said as we pulled away from the curb.  "My name is Sandra!" I exclaimed and we both laughed.  As we talked I learned that Sandro was from Brazil but his father was Italian, from Milan, Italy.  He was a proud Brazilian and we discussed his country's recovering economy and the beautiful cities of Sao Paulo and Rio De Janero.  I asked if Sandro had plans to visit Brazil again soon and he emphatically shook his head.  "I have three year old twins," he said.  "I would not like to spend 18 hours on an airplane with them!  That would be too much!"  He quickly pulled his iphone out and handed it to me.  "This is a picture of my twins, Lucca and Faith," he said proudly as I looked at the picture.  "They are adorable," I said, handing the phone back to the proud parent.  "I can understand your reluctance to take them on a plane trip to Brazil.  Perhaps in a few more years they will be ready."  Sandro agreed and we had a pleasant conversation as he drove me back to the airport for my return trip home.

I sat on the plane, thinking of my 18 hours in San Francisco.  I had met four people from different parts of the world and there were many others that I passed on the street that I did not get to meet or speak with.  It never ceases to amaze me that our world is so large yet really, so very, very small.  And each person, no matter where they were from, spoke lovingly of their families and their countries of origin.  We are really not so different, are we?  

What did you see today?

D-Day beaches, Normandy France.

"We shot at everything that moved. The beach was soon covered with the bodies of American soldiers."
- German soldier Franz Gockel, writing to his family on June 10, 1944, about the landings on Omaha Beach four days earlier.

"There was another guy beside me and we were the first two off that boat. I went immediately into the water. It was shallow enough that I was able to get up. There was nothing. No bodies - because we were the bodies."
- Michael Accordino, who landed in the first wave on Omaha with Company A of U.S. Army's 299th Engineer Combat Battalion.

"Normandy is marked by the landings. It is inscribed in people's hearts, in memories, in stone, in rebuilding, in memorial plaques, in street names, everywhere."
- Rev. Rene-Denis Lemaigre, priest of Lisieux.

Toms’ Take:

If I were King for the day, I would require everyone from the age of 15 to 20 to visit three locations as part of their US citizenship.  The first would be Washington DC, including the museums, the mall, (not shopping) the monuments, capital building and more. So much of our nation’s history is told here. The second location would be Pearl Harbor on Oahu, Hawaii.   It is a very moving experience to visit the USS Arizona Memorial and to be where the start of US involvement in WWII began. A short distance away is the USS Missouri where later, the end of the war was heralded by the Japanese signing of surrender documents.  Again, there is so much history all in one place.  The third requirement would be visiting the D-Day beaches in Normandy France. 

When we planned our trip to France and Belgium, Sandy asked what I was interested in seeing on the trip and I only had three requests:  drink Belgian beer with my buddy Jim; eat Belgian chocolate; and visit Normandy and the D-Day beaches.  I’m a history buff and as such, I have always wanted to visit Normandy.  I have read many books and seen many movies and documentaries about Normandy and in my mind; I thought I would be emotionally prepared for the experience. 

We had enjoyed our week on LeBoat and now were prepared to begin the next leg of our journey, Normandy and Belgium.  We drove through the Normandy countryside on our way to the D-Day beaches and as we got closer, we noticed homes and businesses flying American flags.  It was touching to see and as we wound through the final miles to the beaches, I started to recognize the names of villages where famous battles had taken place and without warning, I began to get a lump in my throat.  Was it because I couldn’t believe I was finally here, or was it something else?  We rounded a corner on a country road and there before us was the village of St. Mere Eglise, proudly boasting a sign that read;”Viva 82nd Airborne, First Village liberated in France”. Both French and American flags were proudly flying over this sign, the gateway to the village.  Seeing this sign and the flags, still declaring an American victory from 65 years earlier, gave all of us a start.  We did not expect this!

We drove on to Utah Beach and parked in the assigned lots.  As we looked out over the bluff and onto the beach, I had a hard time imagining how it must have looked on June 6, 1944.  The day we visited the weather was beautiful – the sun was shining and the wind was relatively calm.  With the exception of the sand-buried bunkers this could have been any beach on the California coast. The lump in my throat got bigger.  We moved on to Omaha Beach and the American cemetery where there is a wonderful museum filled with many interesting stories, pictures and historical information.  We stopped to tour the museum and cemetery and as I exited the museum I walked to the handrail that ran along the bluff and looked down on Omaha Beach.  I was suddenly taken with the contrast of what I saw before me today compared with what I just seen in the museum photos. 

Many of us have seen the pictures of June 6^th 1944, photos depicting young soldiers jumping off of transport boats and struggling through the cold ocean water, rushing to reach the beach while dodging bullets and navigating through utter chaos to battle the German forces.  It was a gruesome scene to imagine and yet, here I stood today looking down on a beautiful beach and watching couples walking in the soft sand while families were picnicking and flying kites.  This is what peace should look like. 

After staring at the beach and imagining what it must have looked like on June 6 and knowing what those young scared boys had to endure, coming up that beach cold, wet, and sea sick and injured, I felt the ever-present lump in my throat grow bigger.  After a few moments of reflection, I turned and walked down the path to the cemetery and as I saw the rows and rows of white crosses come into view, I had to stop and just look.  There are no words to describe what those crosses, all neatly organized with Omaha Beach shining in the background, look like.   There are nearly ten thousand service men and women buried here.  I don’t know one person in that cemetery – I have no family members in the cemetery and I do not personally know anyone else who has relatives buried here.    I have no connection at all with any of the Americans buried here other than our country of birth.  And yet, the feeling of personal loss is overwhelming.  There are names like Martinez, Andersen, O’Neal and home states listed such as Texas, Illinois, and Wyoming making me realize the scope and span of the American sacrifice.  The names and states reminded me that young men and women from varying backgrounds and representing the diversity of the United States are buried here.   There is not an inch of our nation that wasn’t impacted by that day. 

I walked through the many rows, reading the names and states and contemplating the sufferings of those buried beneath each cross when suddenly, I encountered a white marble cross with no name or state listed, simply stating:   “Here rest in honored glory a comrade in arms, Known but to God.”  I finally understood the reason for the lump in my throat.

Thank you, those who paid this ultimate price. 

My Wife

Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your life... Ecclesiastes 9:9

Tom's Take:  I’m not sure what the process or the requirements are for saint hood but whatever they are, I believe my wife is qualified.  I’m not an easy person to live with and I should know, I live with myself.  They say opposites attract and that fits Sandy and I pretty well.   I’m a little more willing to try something that is a little more daring or adventurous (unless it's a new or strange food).  Sandy, on the other hand, needs a little more encouragement.  This might explain why, in the time we have been married, I have had several knee and back surgeries, stitches etc., to zero for her.  I jump then think about the place to land, she likes to ask a zillion questions and know as much as possible about where she will land before she jumps in.  I have a tendency to get lost; so she bought me a Tom Tom (I think that was actually for her). But By getting lost we have found some cool (and not so cool) places.  It has all worked out well for us even though some tense or stressful moments have occurred.  Most importantly, we have managed to have fun through it all. 

One of my favorite memories was a situation that became a real stretch for Sandy.  We have kayaked before and enjoyed it but our trips have always been in calm Caribbean waters.  On a recent visit to the big island of Hawaii we had read about a beautiful bay that was an ideal spot for kayaking and sight seeing.  At the far end of this bay is the location where Captain John Cook was killed and it's a popular trip to paddle across the wide bay to visit the marker that pinpoints the exact location.   It was a beautiful day when we visited, the sun was shining and there was no one around.  I wanted to kayak out and visit the marker but Sandy can’t swim very well so the idea of going out on the ocean in a small two person kayak took a bit of coaxing.   There was a lot of me saying “trust me honey, we will stay close to shore”.   You would think by now when I say “trust me” her radar alarm would be going WOOP WOOP WOOP.   But trust me she does and we rented the kayak and off we went.  

The pacific is a little less calm than the Caribbean waters we have kayaked in before, so at first we stayed close to shore.  But if you’re an experience kayaker you know that the closer to shore you are, the rougher the water is.  So I told Sandy that we needed to go out a little further from shore and besides, this was a big, deep bay and it would be quicker to go straight across then it would be to hug the shore line and since the majority of the paddling was being done be me I thought that was the better idea.  "Trust me," I said and trust me she did.

As we started to cross the middle of the bay I noticed some splashing several hundred yards in front of us and it appeared that whatever was making the splashes was coming our way.  It was then I realized the splashing was being created by a pod of dolphins and I told Sandy look to look straight in front of us. Fifteen to twenty dolphins where heading directly towards our kayak.  We were out in the middle of the deep blue bay all alone and no one else was even close to us.  I’ve seen dolphins many times before both above and below the water and have had the opportunity while diving to swim with dolphin pods in Costa Rica and again in Cozumel, but Sandy has never had an opportunity to see this beautiful animal so close.   She was as excited as she was scared and the dolphins quickly reached us, surrounding our kayak and jumping and swimming under and all around us.  It was one of the coolest things I have ever seen.  I held the kayak steady and we looked down into the clear water, watching the pod swim right under our kayak, coming up on the opposite side and jumping into the air just a few short feet away, spinning and splashing us with water as they put on a show just for us. There were several new born dolphins in the pod, some only a foot or two long and we felt the moms were showing off their kids, bringing them close to the kayak side and circling around and underneath us, rolling over and coaxing their babies to do the same.   As the mothers brought their babies alongside the kayak for us to get a good look at, the babies responded to our presence with curiosity and not a trace of fear. 

Sandy was nervous at this close invasion but she squealed like a little girl with excitement.  The show went on for about twenty minutes before the pod decided it was time to move on and by that time a few more kayaks had joined us.  That experience was worth the cost of the entire trip and I will forever remember watching Sandy watch the dolphin’s impromptu show.  I had more fun watching her and her excitement tinged with fear than I did watching the dolphins.  To be able to share that experience with her will always be one of the best memories I will ever have.  We stayed out for awhile longer hoping the dolphins would reappear but as we watched them swim out to the open ocean, we realized the show was over and made our way over to the other side of the bay to visit Captain Cook's marker, our original destination.  

Having a partner in life that is willing to be with you no matter what has made life wonderful.  The funny thing is, as we have gotten a little older the dynamics in our adventurous spirits have began to change.  Sandy isn’t ready to bungee jump or cliff dive but she has gotten a lot braver and I think I have mellowed al little more.  And even with a Tom Tom, I can still get lost.