tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54628205822325664572024-03-13T09:53:52.659-06:00Extraordinary Travels of an Ordinary CoupleSandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-11950717175751660542014-01-01T16:48:00.003-07:002014-01-01T16:48:36.837-07:00Three Perfect Days in Santa Barbara
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Three perfect days in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><a href="http://www.santabarbaraca.gov/" target="_blank">Santa Barbara</a>.</st1:place></st1:city></div>
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Seventy nine degree weather in December.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A calm and tranquil blue ocean, lapping
gently against the sandy shoreline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gray
whales spouting in the distance, as they migrate from their feeding grounds in
Alaska to warmer waters off the shores of Cabo and dolphins playing and leaping
in the wake of sailboats and small fishing vessels, frolicking in the water for
no apparent reason at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seals splash
in the waves just off shore, catching their meals and riding the surf as funny
little sandpipers run along the beach, moving as one large group, dashing away
as the surf rolls in and then following the retreating waves along the shiny,
wet sand, bobbing along as they harvest the food particles washed up on shore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little birds move constantly, to and fro,
heads bobbing up and down as they pick at the sand and yet I find the spectacle
strangely calming and I breathe deeply, inhaling the delicious scents of the
ocean air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three perfect days in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Santa Barbara</st1:city></st1:place>, and I could
spend all of them right here, on the beach, inhaling the scents and feeling
more and more alive by the moment.</div>
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Tom and I had never visited <st1:place w:st="on"><a href="http://www.santabarbaradowntown.com/" target="_blank"><st1:city w:st="on">Santa Barbara</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">California</st1:state></a></st1:place>
and decided, on a whim, to go the week before Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was spectacular, and has quickly rivaled <st1:city w:st="on">Monterrey</st1:city> as my favorite <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">California</st1:place></st1:state> coastal town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sunsets on the beach were the reddest,
most glorious sunsets I have ever seen, and the sunrise was equally impressive
each morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it wasn't just the beauty
of the area that captivated us, it was also the people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Tourism-g33045-Santa_Barbara_California-Vacations.html" target="_blank">Santa Barbara</a></st1:place></st1:city> felt friendly, and real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first evening we were there, strolling
along <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">State Street</st1:address></st1:street>
in the quaint downtown area, we noticed a line of old fashioned trolley cars
decorated for Christmas and filled with merry families, all cuddled in blankets
and sipping hot cocoa, ready for their ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We stopped in amusement to watch the spectacle as car after car was
loaded with guests by young attendants dressed as elves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We asked one of the "elves" about the event, and she
shared that this was the Santa Barbara Parade of Lights - the trolley cars took
their passengers on tours through the city, admiring lights on homes in the
neighborhoods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"We have been booked
solid since October," she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>"It's a big deal around here!".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We inquired if there might be any openings
and as luck would have it, there were two no-shows on one of the trolleys, so
we quickly paid our fee and hopped aboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What a treat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Families were
standing in their front yards, children dressed in their pajamas, and waving
and shouting "Merry Christmas", as the trolley cars rolled past,
blaring Christmas music all the while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We shouted and waved back and the ride continued through the
neighborhoods, each decorated more spectacularly than the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the evening ended, I felt so light and
happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was such a fun time to be with
local families, waving and calling Christmas greetings to strangers as they
stood in their yards and open doorways, and everyone smiling and enjoying the
season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Three days was perfect for us - three days of blissful walks
on the beach, bicycling along the city paths, picnicking, resting, laughing,
relaxing, sipping local wines and eating some of the best food I have ever
had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://ordinarycouplestravels.myuniglobetravelcenter.com/" target="_blank">Visit <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Santa Barbara</st1:place></st1:city></a>, my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And before you do, <a href="http://ordinarycouplestravels.myuniglobetravelcenter.com/" target="_blank">call me.</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'll help you pick out your hotels, give you
insight into my favorite restaurants and share the locations of some secret
beaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And while you are there, make
sure to sit and watch the sandpipers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their lively movements will calm your weary soul.</div>
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Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Santa Barbara, CA, USA34.4208305 -119.6981901000000334.211274 -120.02091360000003 34.630387 -119.37546660000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-17042787942339299882013-06-23T10:08:00.001-06:002013-06-23T10:08:59.049-06:00So how was <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a>??? <br />
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Time flies when we're having fun....and I can't believe I've neglected my blog for two months! We had such an amazing time in Spain and then came home and got caught up in the world of reality and needless to say, I've had a hard time getting back to normal (whatever that is!).<br />
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Everyone I've talked to about my trip to Spain has asked about the Vaughantown experience and I wish I could capture it for you in words, but I can't. Not entirely. So much of what we experienced there was feelings - connections with others, Spaniards and Anglos, and the start of beautiful global friendships and for me personally, it was a life changing event. My local newspaper asked me to contribute an article about my experiences, so here it is. It's a bit lengthy, but I hope you enjoy and get a flavor for the time Tom and I spent in Spain.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What does it mean to say, ‘you’re in the doghouse’,” Pilar
asked as we walked along a beautiful mountain trail in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rascafr%C3%ADa" target="_blank">Rascafria</a></st1:place>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about her question, frowning as I
considered how to explain this American phrase to the lovely Spanish woman from
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Barcelona</st1:city></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Spain</st1:country-region></st1:place> participating in a volunteer
English language immersion program for Spanish adults with an organization
called <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The program partners
native English speaking adults, (referred to as Anglos), from around the globe,
with Spaniards seeking to improve their English language skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Anglo volunteers travel to Spain at their
own expense, and spend six days in a remote location with the Spaniards, many
of whom are there for professional development, speaking and engaging together
all in English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many people have asked
if I speak Spanish – the answer is no, not really. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that’s the beauty of Vaughantown - the
only rules of the week are, “No Spanish may be spoken”, and “have fun and learn
in English”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The goal of the program is
to help the Spaniards improve their English, which in turn will benefit them in
their personal and professional lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband, Tom, and I learned of this program last summer
and applied to participate. We were accepted to attend a session in May, 2013
and we began planning our Spanish adventure -- we would participate in
Vaughantown for one week and tour <st1:place w:st="on">Southern Spain</st1:place>
the next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We flew to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> and met up with
our group on a warm Sunday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were 17 Anglos, including us, and we hailed from <st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Wales</st1:country-region>,
<st1:country-region w:st="on">Ireland</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Australia</st1:country-region>, and the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">US</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some of the Anglos were repeat volunteers, having enjoyed their original
experiences so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The 13 Spaniards
were from all across <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>
and the group included Lawyers, Engineers, Business Directors and University
Professors, all attending to expand their careers<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We traveled two hours by bus to a <a href="http://www.sheratonelpaular.com/en" target="_blank">Sheraton</a>
hotel that was attached to a 700 year old functioning monastery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hotel grounds border a natural park,
ringed by snow capped mountains and filled with winding nature trails that lead
to ponds, rivers, meadows and the rural village of Rascafria, two miles
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This beautiful but remote location
would be our base for the week and we would spend each day immersed with one
another; talking, eating, working, and experiencing life together, all in the
English language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We boarded the bus as
strangers, but we ended the week as tight friends who will never forget one
another or the time we spent in the beautiful Spanish mountains.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our days were full, beginning with a wakeup call at 8:15 and
ending with dinner at 9:00 pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ate
all of our meals together, and the tables in the large dining room were set for
four – two Anglos and two Spaniards at each.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were asked to “mix it up” during the week, sitting with new people at
each meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only did this allow us to
get to know one another better, it also allowed the Spaniards the opportunity
to hear a variety of English accents and terms, helping them to become more
proficient at speaking English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During
our first couple of meals together, the conversations were fairly formal as we
became acquainted with one another and the Spaniards practiced their English,
but as the week progressed we all became friends and soon meals were a noisy
and busy affair, all of us eating, chatting and laughing amiably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After breakfast we would receive our schedule
for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anglos and Spaniards were
partnered for 1:1 conversations and pairs rotated every hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lunch and siesta was from 2:00-5:00, and more
1:1’s or organized activities occurred between 5:00-8:50, ending with dinner
followed by free time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The 1:1 times, when a Spaniard and Anglo were paired
together, created a unique learning opportunity for the Spanish, with the goal
of becoming comfortable speaking English in a casual and relaxed
environment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was my favorite
activity – getting to spend time truly getting to know my Spanish partner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first days we were new to each other and
sometimes unsure of what to discuss but as we walked on the lovely forest paths
or sat in the hotel courtyard sipping coffee, we would each become more relaxed
and soon, we were comfortably discussing a wide variety of topics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evening activities were designed to stretch
the English comfort levels of the Spanish and often included organized skits or
plays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all learned to overcome
shyness at performing in front of groups and we often ended the evening
practically in tears, laughing hard at each other’s antics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the week progressed I learned more and more about each
Spaniard’s life -- their interests, families, jobs and the culture of their
beautiful country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My respect for the
Spanish participants and my fellow Anglos grew immensely through our time
together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hours were long and
difficult, but the Spaniards were dedicated to learning and as I watched their
confidence grow and English improve, I was glad to be a part of helping them
achieve their personal and professional goals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On the final day during the closing ceremonies, one Spaniard summed up
the experience for all of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stood
before the group and, speaking genuinely from his heart, he addressed the
Anglos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thank you for doing this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t understand why you gave up your time
or came so far to help us learn, but I am glad that you did and we love you for
it."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When Vaughantown was over, Tom and I spent another week
touring southern <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>
but we never stopped talking about the things that had happened in Rascafria
and our new found friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one of
the most unique and rewarding vacations we’ve ever taken and we are already
planning for when we can return to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> and volunteer with
Vaughantown again. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X6gdHkW_Tcc/Uccc3E45ldI/AAAAAAAAAGg/gsng-r9DRBw/s1600/Sandy+(2nd+from+right)+&+Tom+with+Spanish+students.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X6gdHkW_Tcc/Uccc3E45ldI/AAAAAAAAAGg/gsng-r9DRBw/s320/Sandy+(2nd+from+right)+&+Tom+with+Spanish+students.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com128740 Rascafría, Madrid, Spain40.9049836 -3.879530499999987140.8929826 -3.8997004999999869 40.9169846 -3.8593604999999873tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-21893646455311666002013-04-17T15:20:00.000-06:002013-04-17T15:20:16.187-06:00<em>How do you prepare for an experience with <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a>?</em><br />
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As I shared, I've been receiving newsletters with "what to expect" from the Vaughantown staff. Each is unique, and focuses on different aspects of the experience. I just received newsletter #4 this morning and found it interesting, and thought you might enjoy reading it, too. I particularly noticed the part about playing Spanish Trivial Pursuit with the Spaniards in our class! Oh-oh. I have some serious studying to do - I can be a bit competitive myself, and I don't want to fall down flat with no answers! Good thing the newsletter provides links to study Spanish history. <br />
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A few weeks ago, quite by accident, I found a woman named Christine in the UK, who had participated in <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a> on four previous occasions. We held a Skype conversation a few days ago and she shared some fun stories about her experiences in <a href="http://www.starwoodhotels.com/sheraton/property/overview/index.html?propertyID=85" target="_blank">Rascafria</a>. But it was when she advised me to "begin preparing my skits for the evening entertainment hour", that I had a brief moment of doubt about my decision to go. My skits?? I have no talent! What was I supposed to do? Tom looked at me like I had lost my mind when I shared this new information and for a moment, I was afraid he was going to say "no way! We're not going". But then he shrugged, grinned and said, "Sure, why not? This will be fun!" I had to laugh. What a sport! And now, I need to get back to planning my skits.... any suggestions, anyone????<br />
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<a href="http://www.grupovaughan.com/english/newsletter4.pdf" target="_blank">Vaughantown Newletter #4</a><br />
<br />Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-76600595089922529212013-04-16T20:04:00.000-06:002013-04-16T20:04:01.889-06:00<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>How did you learn about </strong></em><a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank"><em><strong>Vaughantown</strong></em></a><em><strong>?</strong></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">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 <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a> English class the first week we are there. Well, here's how it happened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">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!!).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">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 <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a> 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!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">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 <a href="http://www.starwoodhotels.com/sheraton/property/overview/index.html?propertyID=85" target="_blank">Rascafria</a>. 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!</span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com028740 Rascafría, Madrid, Spain40.9049836 -3.879530499999987140.8929826 -3.8997004999999869 40.9169846 -3.8593604999999873tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-23665856132356014002013-04-07T11:24:00.001-06:002013-04-07T11:24:13.010-06:00A visit to SpainWe 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 <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a> the first week, staying in the mountain village of <a href="http://www.spain.info/en/ven/otros-destinos/rascafria.html" target="_blank">Rascafria</a>, 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"!!! <br />
<br />
Has anyone been to Spain? Have you ever participated in a program like <a href="http://volunteers.grupovaughan.com/" target="_blank">Vaughantown</a>? 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.<br />
<br />
Sandy<br />
<br />
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Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-15332266902415026432012-11-23T22:05:00.001-07:002012-11-23T22:05:58.721-07:00
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Soaring on Wings Like Eagles<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #001320; font-family: Arial;">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</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I saw the first bald eagles
of the season the day after Thanksgiving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I slowed as I rounded a corner in the road, the
large birds catching my attention <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without warning, in tandem, they flapped their
wings and raised to the sky, soaring up and away from the sight of their kill. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled
back into the traffic, and headed on towards home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few moments of watching and waiting,
I decided to continue walking and turned to head back towards the path. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I walked the music on my iPod changed, and
the Brandon Heath song, "Wait and See", came on. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The song lyrics started soft and slow and I
recognized the song, and thought briefly about changing it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There they were - the pair of bald eagles,
soaring and circling above my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"<em>He's not finished with me yet</em>,"
came the words in my iPod headset, as Brandon Heath continued to croon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"<em>Still wondering why I'm here, still
wrestling with my fear, but OH, he's up to something..."</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
words of the song and the soaring eagles above my head gave me a pause and I suddenly
heard the message - "<em>He's not finished with me yet... He's not finished
with me yet."</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New hope sprang into
my heart - God has a plan, and it's not over yet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The promise of Isaiah 40:31 came instantly into
my mind - "<em>B<span style="color: #001320;">ut 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."</span></em><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched until they were
out of sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">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, <em>"He's
not finished with me yet."</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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Photo by Tom McMillen<br />
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Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Windsor, CO, USA40.4774818 -104.901361740.3808558 -105.05929019999999 40.5741078 -104.7434332tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-60391754305903672302012-09-16T08:45:00.001-06:002012-09-16T08:46:19.484-06:00The Most Important Travel Tip<br />
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<strong><em>If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he
is a citizen of the world. ~ Francis Bacon</em></strong></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Our buddy Pete
was a world-traveler in his youth and I learned my most important travel tip
from watching him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter where we
visit with Pete he always takes time to speak to the restaurant staff by name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will discreetly read the person’s name tag
and address them by name when they approach our table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p> </o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">This
small habit makes a significant difference, not only to those of us being
served but to the person serving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can
remember a specific situation where this habit impacted me more than at any
other time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pete, his lovely wife Wendy,
Tom and I had met in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Las Vegas</st1:place></st1:city>
for a long weekend of fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could understand why she seemed jaded as
she approached our table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p> </o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I
observed Pete glance casually up at her name tag while she handed us the
menus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hello Amber”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said pleasantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immediately her face changed, registering
curiosity and interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went on with
a smile, looking up at her as he spoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“What do you recommend?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve never
been here before.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her surprise was
clear and she seemed rattled, not sure how to answer his question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was glaringly obvious to me at that moment
– Amber was seldom, if ever, addressed as a person in this role.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clearly, she was unsure how to respond to
Pete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His questions were genuine and he
was expectantly waiting for a recommendation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p> </o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">After
a moment of flustered surprise, Amber gathered herself together and shared the
highlights of the menu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We placed our
orders, thanked her and moved to our conversation as she turned towards the
kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she returned with our food
I noticed that she lingered an extra minute, ensuring we were all satisfied
with our choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took advantage of
the lingering moment and asked her a few questions about herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her face became animated as she shared and
she came back frequently to ensure that we remained satisfied with our
dinners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p> </o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When
the meal was over we gave her a nice tip and thanked her again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noticed that she watched us as we left,
smiling as we departed the restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was that simple gesture of reading her name tag and acknowledging her
as a person that made all the difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pete was no different after the encounter – that’s just what he does and
who he is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sees people and responds
to them as fellow human beings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for
Amber, he had made an impact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her mood
was lifted and she was smiling when we left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had to wonder how this change had been perceived by her other
customers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How long before the bored,
jaded look would be back on Amber’s face, brought on by unseeing
customers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><o:p> </o:p></span></em></div>
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What did you see today?</div>
Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-9365870513670220492012-08-04T11:48:00.003-06:002012-08-04T11:48:49.772-06:0018 Hours in San Francisco<a href="http://www.sanfrancisco.travel/">San Francisco</a>, <a href="http://www.redtietransportation.com/">Taxis in San Francisco</a><br />
<br />
<em>"No city invites the heart to come to life as San Francisco does. Arrival in San Francisco is an experience in living." ~ William Saroyan</em><br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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? <br />
<br />
What did you see today?Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-23015545847653924902012-05-26T08:08:00.000-06:002012-05-26T08:08:47.077-06:00<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">D-Day beaches, Normandy France.</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"We shot at everything that moved. The
beach was soon covered with the bodies of American soldiers." <br />
- German soldier Franz Gockel, writing to his family on June 10, 1944, about
the landings on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Omaha</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Beach</st1:placetype></st1:placename></st1:place>
four days earlier.<br />
<br />
"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." <br />
- Michael Accordino, who landed in the first wave on <st1:city w:st="on">Omaha</st1:city>
with Company A of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">U.S.</st1:country-region></st1:place>
Army's 299th Engineer Combat Battalion.<br />
<br />
"<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state></st1:place>
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."<br />
- Rev. Rene-Denis Lemaigre, priest of Lisieux.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Toms’ Take:</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">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 <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region></st1:place> citizenship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first would be <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Washington</st1:city> <st1:state w:st="on">DC</st1:state></st1:city></st1:place>,
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 <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Oahu</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Hawaii</st1:state></st1:city></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a very moving experience to visit the
USS Arizona Memorial and to be where the start of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region></st1:place> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, there is so much history all in one
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The third requirement would be
visiting the D-Day beaches in Normandy France.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we planned our trip to <st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region>
and <st1:country-region w:st="on">Belgium</st1:country-region>, <st1:city w:st="on">Sandy</st1:city> asked what I was interested in seeing on the trip
and I only had three requests:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>drink
Belgian beer with my buddy Jim; eat Belgian chocolate; and visit <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state></st1:place> and the D-Day
beaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a history buff and as such,
I have always wanted to visit <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have read many books and seen many movies
and documentaries about <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state></st1:place>
and in my mind; I thought I would be emotionally prepared for the experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had enjoyed our week on LeBoat and now were prepared to
begin the next leg of our journey, <st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state>
and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Belgium</st1:country-region></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drove through the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state></st1:place> countryside on our way to the D-Day
beaches and as we got closer, we noticed homes and businesses flying American
flags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it
because I couldn’t believe I was finally here, or was it something else?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We rounded a corner on a country road and
there before us was the <st1:placetype w:st="on">village</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">St. Mere Eglise</st1:placename>, proudly boasting a sign that
read;”Viva 82nd Airborne, <st1:placename w:st="on">First</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Village</st1:placetype> liberated in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1:place>”. Both French and American
flags were proudly flying over this sign, the gateway to the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing this sign and the flags, still
declaring an American victory from 65 years earlier, gave all of us a start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did not expect this!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We drove on to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Utah</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Beach</st1:placetype></st1:placename></st1:place>
and parked in the assigned lots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
day we visited the weather was beautiful – the sun was shining and the wind was
relatively calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the exception of
the sand-buried bunkers this could have been any beach on the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">California</st1:state></st1:place> coast. The lump in my throat got
bigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We moved on to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Omaha</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Beach</st1:placetype></st1:placename></st1:place>
and the American cemetery where there is a wonderful museum filled with many
interesting stories, pictures and historical information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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 <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Omaha</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Beach</st1:placetype></st1:placename></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was suddenly taken with the contrast of
what I saw before me today compared with what I just seen in the museum
photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many of us have seen the pictures of June 6<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what peace should look like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no
words to describe what those crosses, all neatly organized with Omaha Beach
shining in the background, look like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are nearly ten thousand service men and women buried here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
no connection at all with any of the Americans buried here other than our
country of birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, the feeling
of personal loss is overwhelming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
are names like <st1:city w:st="on">Martinez</st1:city>, Andersen, O’Neal and
home states listed such as <st1:state w:st="on">Texas</st1:state>, <st1:state w:st="on">Illinois</st1:state>, and <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Wyoming</st1:state></st1:place>
making me realize the scope and span of the American sacrifice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The names and states reminded me that young
men and women from varying backgrounds and representing the diversity of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">United States</st1:country-region></st1:place>
are buried here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is not </span><a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">an inch of our nation that wasn’t impacted by that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">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:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here rest in honored
glory a comrade in arms, Known but to God.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I finally understood the reason for the lump in my throat.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you, those who paid this ultimate price.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vZNGGi-F9Tk/T8DjWIvriRI/AAAAAAAAAE4/Sf2wMTUylfM/s1600/IMG_2416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vZNGGi-F9Tk/T8DjWIvriRI/AAAAAAAAAE4/Sf2wMTUylfM/s320/IMG_2416.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8S7pFTX38IE/T8DjdR0fq3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/KvqjWbr_dTc/s1600/IMG_2429+Normandy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8S7pFTX38IE/T8DjdR0fq3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/KvqjWbr_dTc/s320/IMG_2429+Normandy1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Utah Beach, 50480 Sainte-Marie-du-Mont, France49.4133856 -1.17374349.410803099999995 -1.1786785 49.4159681 -1.1688075tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-20189523537019394992012-05-12T10:10:00.001-06:002012-05-12T10:10:27.783-06:00My Wife<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><em>Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your
life... Ecclesiastes 9:9</em></strong></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tom's Take:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not
sure what the process or the requirements are for saint hood but whatever they
are, I believe my wife is qualified. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
not an easy person to live with and I should know, I live with myself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They say opposites attract and that fits Sandy
and I pretty well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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).
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sandy</st1:city></st1:place>,
on the other hand, needs a little more encouragement. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has all worked out well for us even though
some tense or stressful moments have occurred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Most importantly, we have managed to have fun through it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of my favorite memories was a situation that became a real
stretch for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sandy</st1:city></st1:place>.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have kayaked before and enjoyed it
but our trips have always been in calm <st1:place w:st="on">Caribbean</st1:place> waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a recent visit to the big <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">island</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Hawaii</st1:placename></st1:place> we had read about a beautiful bay
that was an ideal spot for kayaking and sight seeing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a beautiful day when we visited, the
sun was shining and there was no one around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wanted to kayak out and visit the marker but <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sandy</st1:place></st1:city> 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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a lot of me saying “trust me honey,
we will stay close to shore”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would
think by now when I say “trust me” her radar alarm would be going <em><strong><span style="color: red;">WOOP WOOP
WOOP</span></strong></em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But trust me she does and we rented the kayak
and off we went. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The pacific is a little less calm than the <st1:place w:st="on">Caribbean</st1:place>
waters we have kayaked in before, so at first we stayed close to shore. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if you’re an experience kayaker you know
that the closer to shore you are, the rougher the water is. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Trust me," I said and trust
me she did. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was then I realized the splashing was being
created by a pod of dolphins and I told <st1:place w:st="on">Sandy</st1:place>
look to look straight in front of us. Fifteen to twenty dolphins where heading
directly towards our kayak. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were out in
the middle of the deep blue bay all alone and no one else was even close to us.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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 <st1:country-region w:st="on">Costa Rica</st1:country-region>
and again in Cozumel, but <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sandy</st1:place></st1:city>
has never had an opportunity to see this beautiful animal so close. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one of
the coolest things I have ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> As t</span>he 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sandy</st1:place></st1:city>
was nervous at this close invasion but she squealed like a little girl with
excitement. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
experience was worth the cost of the entire trip and I will forever remember
watching <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sandy</st1:place></st1:city>
watch the dolphin’s impromptu show. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had more fun watching her and her excitement tinged with fear than I did
watching the dolphins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be able to
share that experience with her will always be one of the best memories I will
ever have. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having a partner in life that is willing to be with you no
matter what has made life wonderful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The funny thing is, as we have gotten a little
older the dynamics in our adventurous spirits have began to change. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sandy</st1:place></st1:city>
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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
even with a Tom Tom, I can still get lost.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-10912900028927510102012-04-22T09:10:00.000-06:002012-04-22T09:10:14.431-06:00Foreign languages! UGGHHH!!!!!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> they just simply opened their eyes and
stared when we spoke to them in French! We never did succeed in making those
idiots understand their own language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>~
The Innocents Abroad…. Mark Twain<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Toms' Take:</span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was born
to speak the English language and even that has been a struggle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a speech problem as a child, trouble
with the letter "S". <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
used an "S" I sounded like a serpent with a lisp. You just tried that
sound didn’t you? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember sitting in
“regular class” when the speech teacher would come in and take me “down to the
room”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated that -- it meant that I
would spend an hour of torture with her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would say “Repeat after me, Sally sells
sea shells by the sea shore.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember
thinking, "you’ve heard me talk why do you want me to say that?" <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How
about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Roger rode on a red roller-coaster”,
</i>the teacher would ask with a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“There’s only one S in that sentence and we can work our way up from
there.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually I figured out how to
talk without looking like I had been electrocuted every time I used the letter
S and I no longer had to leave my regular classroom. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sandy</st1:city></st1:place> and my travels began
taking us to foreign places, we wanted to do our best to at least try and speak
the language of our host country, as it is appreciated by the locals if you at
least attempt to communicate in their language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was like speech therapy all over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enrolled in a Spanish class through our
local community college adult education program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sandy</st1:city></st1:place>
had studied Spanish in college so I took this class with our friends Jim and
Jan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After two years the school wouldn’t
let me enroll in the beginner class anymore and I registered for one of the
next classes, conversational Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Speaking English was not allowed in this class and after a few attempts,
I finally dropped the course altogether and decided that I would just stay
close </span><a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sandy</st1:city></st1:place>
and smile a lot. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Most of my
attempts at speaking a foreign language have been laughable if not disastrous.
I remember a time when Jim and I traveled from the island Roatan to the
mainland of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Honduras</st1:place></st1:country-region>
to purchase some tools for work on our property.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost everyone on the <st1:placetype w:st="on">island</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">Roatan</st1:placename> speaks English but a short
30 miles away on the mainland of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Honduras</st1:place></st1:country-region>, Spanish is the primary
language and if you speak English here, you’re not going to get much of a
response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim and I both tried hard to
speak Spanish, we even thought that if we talked loud and slow and added an O
to the end of all our words, the locals would understand us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This, of course, never works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end we just pointed and smiled a lot
and by the time we boarded the ferry to return to Roatan, we both had a
headache. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The problem
with trying to speak the local language is, if you walk into a place and you greet
folks with “Buenos Dias”, people assume that you can speak Spanish and they
respond in Spanish and of course, I don’t have a clue what they are saying as
I’ve just exhausted my Spanish repository.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I give them the same stupid look I would give my speech therapist when
she would say “repeat after me, sister Suzy sat on a thistle.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Funny how you can be transported back to the
past so easily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have tried
so many times to speak with confidence, but I always get a brain freeze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Italy</st1:country-region></st1:place> I've learned that I can only
order Lasagna or Ravioli at restaurants, as this is all I can really
pronounce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the waiter comes to our
table I invariably freeze up and in a loud slow voice I say, “Ravioli-O and
wine-O, Gracias". Oh shoot -- wrong language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The waiter would look at me as I smile
sheepishly and nodding as though he understood every word, he would sweep away
my menu and turn to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sandy</st1:city></st1:place>
to take her order, sure that I will never know if what he chooses to bring me
is even close to what I ordered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The French
language sounds so beautiful and charming when spoken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone could be describing how to unstop a
toilet and it will still sound elegant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But when someone like me is trying to speak French it sounds more like a
toad that was stepped on, croaking and protesting loudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were at
dinner one evening in a nice restaurant in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Sandy</st1:place></st1:city>
had ordered and it sounded like she knew what she was doing, then Jan did the
same and even asked some questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
waiter turned to me expectantly - it was my turn to order and I was anxiously
looking at the menu for something that looked familiar or that I could
pronounce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want to have
escargot and French fries again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the
waiter continues to look at me, pencil poised expectantly over his order pad, I
felt like saying “Mongo want this” and point to the menu item.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brain froze and I slowly said, “Ravioli-O
and wine-O, Gracias”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh darn, I did it
again!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> – wrong language!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I try again. “Umm, Sally sells sea shells by
the sea shore”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I just smile
and point as the waiter gives me a frown and shakes his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel quite sure that he is going to season
my food with spit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have had the
escargot again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will keep trying, and keep smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;"> Travel Tip: Learn at least a few key phrases in the language of the country you will be visiting. The ability to greet and thank people in their own language, coupled with a genuine smile, is always appreciated, even if you can say nothing else!</span></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Paris, France48.856614 2.352221948.773036 2.1942934 48.940192 2.5101504tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-7448486996908535002012-04-14T08:34:00.000-06:002012-04-14T08:34:19.224-06:00Concentration Camps in Belgium<em><strong><st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Belgium</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> has not been spared the horror of Nazism and its concentration camps ~ Breendonk Memorial<o:p></o:p></span></strong></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I studied World War II in school as most of us did and I have a great-uncle who fought in the war in <st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Belgium</st1:place></st1:country-region>, but he never shared his experiences and other then a few words over the years, I never learned about his time in the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had read about concentration camps and the horrors that occurred within their walls and barbed wire confines and like many of us, I could never comprehend the reality of what had taken place in <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place> during the 1940’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Tom is a WWII history buff and during our travels through <st1:country-region w:st="on">Belgium</st1:country-region> we made the decision to stop and visit the Breendonk Concentration Camp memorial site near <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brussels</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although smaller than most concentration camps at the time, Breendonk was one of the most barbaric and vilest in Nazi control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Between September 1940 and September 1944, 3500 prisoners passed through its narrow, damp and humid halls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The prisoners were Jews, Non-Jews, and those who the Nazis felt were threats to their regime. All prisoners confined within Breendonk's walls were treated inhumanely, with daily torture and beatings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It was a gray and damp day when we pulled up to the fence and there was only one other car in the parking lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stared at the foreboding building and the rolls of razor wire that still wrapped around its walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shivered at the sight – it was sobering and intimidating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was choosing to visit this place, stepping into the building of my own free will – I could not imagine how horrific it must have been for the prisoners that were transported here against their will, never knowing if they would ever be free again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We entered the main building and picked up the audio headsets for the self-guided tour from the gentleman on duty and as we began to navigate deeper into the cold corridors of the prison, I could feel a very heavy spirit began to envelope me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The prison was dark, cold and damp and this was only September – I could not imagine how horrible it must have been during the middle of winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prisoners spent their days in thin and tattered clothing, working outside even in bad weather or sitting in solitary confinement with the daily threat of beatings and torture hanging over them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Illness and disease was rampant in this environment and as we moved through the prison our mood became increasingly more somber and reflective. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Railroad cattle cars used to transport prisoners were on display in one corner of the fenced prison yard. As we peered in, Tom made the observation of how small they were and the pictures on the side of the cars showed them packed with people, all staring grimly into the camera. Riding in these cars must have been very claustrophobic and terrifying. Just prior to the liberation of Breendonk, these same cars were used to transport the remaining prisoners to Auschwitz - likely their final ride in this life. I imagined myself inside one of those cars and I felt an instant moment of panic and fear.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I hesitated to enter the torture chamber as we approached it on the tour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could almost feel the spirits of those who had been beaten and tortured here – the air was heavy and cold and my breath was becoming short and shallow as I began to listen to the stories of the chamber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I jumped – a woman’s piercing scream came through my audio tour speakers, followed by the story of how many people – men and women – had lost their lives in this chamber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I shuddered and turned my head away from the torture contraptions that were still present in this room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A single glaring light bulb hung suspended from the ceiling, casting shadows on the stone walls as it illuminated the chamber where many had suffered for their crimes, whether real or imagined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The story of the tortured woman continued in my headset, describing what had happened to her within this chamber and providing details that I did not want to hear and could not comprehend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears filled my eyes as I listened to her retell the story of her time and torture in Breendonk, all in her softly accented voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not imagine what she must have been feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had managed to survive the horrors of this camp and willingly shared her stories with those that visited, ensuring that we would remember the catastrophic happenings of World War II and Breendonk. <o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As I looked at the rest of my group I could see that they were as impacted as I was, listening to the same story through their own audio headsets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our faces were grim and pale, we had tears in our eyes and were wiping at them freely with our tissues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to leave – I wanted to leave – but I couldn’t leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to listen and hear this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to understand the horrors that had taken place in our history and I needed to remember that many innocent people died during this time in our past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the story ended, we silently left the chamber and moved down the hallway to the next stop on our self-guided tour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one said a word, for what could we say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each of us was thinking about the information we had just learned and processing it in our own minds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We finished the tour, returned the audio headsets and silently walked back to the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travel is important for so many reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only do we have the opportunity to see the world, meet other people and learn about their lives, we also have the obligation to consider the history of the region we visit and understand the circumstances that have helped to shape its citizens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The people of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Belgium</st1:place></st1:country-region> have converted Breendonk into a memorial site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not because they are proud of Breendonk and the horrific acts that took place there, but so that others might have the opportunity to visit and remember the horrors that took lives and destroyed families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is by remembering and learning from the mistakes of the past that we progress forward as humans, ideally learning from the experience and refraining from repeating such acts in our future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: blue;">Travel Tip: Research the memorials and museums in the areas you visit, and plan to stop in and learn about the history of the region on your trip. Even a short visit to a local memorial site can help you gain a greater appreciation and insight into the events that contributed to the development of the area.</span></span></span></em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1Fj8yM9yIU/T4mKqRJanrI/AAAAAAAAAEc/LQia-6G7cmA/s1600/IMG_2548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1Fj8yM9yIU/T4mKqRJanrI/AAAAAAAAAEc/LQia-6G7cmA/s320/IMG_2548.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xT_ulBKWzdo/T4mKyC0Ih5I/AAAAAAAAAEk/zc-IUMNTgiw/s1600/IMG_2550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xT_ulBKWzdo/T4mKyC0Ih5I/AAAAAAAAAEk/zc-IUMNTgiw/s320/IMG_2550.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Brussels, Belgium50.8503396 4.351710300000036150.7916046 4.2901203000000363 50.9090746 4.4133003000000359tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-10642577920593223122012-03-25T08:46:00.000-06:002012-03-25T08:46:50.882-06:00Madame Jarnay<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Madame Jarnay<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">War grows out of the desire for the individual to gain advantage at the expense of his fellow man</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>~ Napoleon Hill<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">It was an unplanned stop on our canal itinerary, a small village that was barely a dot on the map and whose name I cannot remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had been cruising all day without a stop and could use a chance to stretch our muscles, so we pulled up to the village dock in mid-afternoon, tied up the boat and grabbed our bikes for a ride on the country roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After pedaling through the small village and the neighboring farm lands, we stopped at a small cafe with outdoor seating and gathered under the shade of an umbrella.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a warm day and the bike ride had made us hot and sticky – a cold beer or glass of apple cider sounded wonderful right now!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pulled out our cards, ordered our drinks and began to deal a hand of rummy 500.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before long it was early evening and we began to think about our dinner plans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We asked the owner of the café what she recommended and she shrugged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was off-season, she explained, and many of the restaurants in the village were closed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can try next door,” she said, gesturing to the small hotel next to her café, “Madame Jarnay runs the hotel there and she will cook dinner for guests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She doesn’t have anyone staying there right now though, so she might not be prepared to serve.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thanked her, paid our bill and wandered next door to explore this small hotel / bar / restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We stepped inside and looked around – it was dead quiet and no one was in sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A large old brown dog lay on the floor of the restaurant and he raised his head to look at us curiously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bon Jour” we called.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon we heard someone moving in the back room and a swinging door burst open and a small woman with gray-blonde hair emerged into the dining room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Bon Jour”, she answered, then proceeded to ask us questions in French.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jan did her best to explain that the café owner next door had directed us here for dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Madame Jarnay seemed pleased and asked us to be seated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked around – there was no one else here and it seemed a bit intrusive for us to ask her to cook for four guests only.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thanked her for the hospitality but explained that if she did not have other guests to cook for, we would not want to take up her evening just for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would have nothing of the sort and insisted we sit at a small wooden table, adorned with a single flower in a vase, cloth napkins and delicate china dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We felt uncomfortable and a bit guilty, but at her insistence we sat down.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Madame Jarnay handed us menus then stood aside expectantly as we reviewed them and tried to interpret the French.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we began to make our selections, she would answer “no” to each request.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did not have the ingredients for the meals we were ordering, she explained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, we laughed and asked her what she recommended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled broadly and in French explained that she had steak, potatoes, salad and bread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was perfect!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We placed our order and sat back, wondering what would happen next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As Madame exited to the kitchen she issued a stern warning to her old dog, instructing him to stay in his place on the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she had disappeared and we could hear the sounds of pots and pans in the back, the old dog slowly stood up and ambled across the room to greet us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We laughed and rubbed his ears and he sat next to us, occasionally glancing towards the swinging door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he heard his mistress approaching the door, he immediately returned to his spot on the floor, lying down complacently just as Madame entered the dining room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She smiled at him approvingly and as she served our appetizers she explained that she had taught her dog to stay away from guests while they were eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We grinned and acknowledged that he was, indeed, a well trained animal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She thanked us, expressed her approval to the dog while he thumped his tail on the floor, and then returned to the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as she disappeared, the dog was back at our side.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When Madame Jarnay came out to serve us our salads, we began to ask her questions about the area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shared the history of the region and told small stories about the village and its inhabitants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She enjoyed practicing her English with us and we enjoyed trying out our French with her and between the two languages, we managed to understand the bulk of what she was saying.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Madame served us our steaks and at our request, she pulled up a chair and joined us at the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The food was wonderful and delicious and she produced a bottle of rich red wine to complement the steak and potatoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we shared this delightful dinner and sipped the wine, her history unfolded and we became more and more engrossed in her story.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Madame was a child of 12 and living with her parents in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> when the Nazi’s invaded the city in June of 1940.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alarmed at what was happening, her parents quickly packed their belongings and moved to this village in the country, where her father had been raised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The peaceful village life suited Madame’s parents and when the war ended they opted not to return to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city>, instead purchasing this hotel and building the adjoining restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They ran the hotel and restaurant until their deaths, leaving the establishment to Madame in their will. <o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Madame was a typical teenage girl and the country life was not as appealing to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had high aspirations and wanted to become a lawyer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She moved back to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> when she was 18 years old and enrolled in the university law school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She passed her bar exams and became a lawyer in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place>, working there until her parents’ death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was highly unusual for a woman to complete law school in 1950’s <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> and she worked hard to establish her practice and her credibility in the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Madame had never married – her work was her life and she quickly rose to the top of the Parisian legal ladder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was in her early 40’s when her parents died and she inherited the hotel and restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She found herself becoming exhausted with her city life and grueling work schedule and the idea of returning to the village and a slower life style was very appealing.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Her role as a lawyer served her well in her family village for there was no one in the town who could marry couples, solve legal disputes or provide legal advice to uphold the French laws.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She became the legal magistrate and soon, her hotel and restaurant became the place to hold weddings and receptions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, Madame explained, she is 79 years old and no longer acts as the village lawyer, however, she does enjoy marrying couples and running her hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As we finished our meals we realized that we had spent over three hours with Madame Jarnay and knew that she must be exhausted although she was still talking animatedly and sharing multiple stories about her life as a lawyer in the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thanked her profusely for her kindness and her stories – it brought so much context to us to hear about this village, its history and then to realize that Madame had contributed so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As we walked back to our boat we were all silent with our own thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This lovely woman was 79 years old and still running a hotel and restaurant by herself. She lived through one of the most difficult times in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s history and then bucked tradition by going to law school in the early 1950’s, a profession that is historically dominated by men. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She gave up her lucrative career in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place> to return to the village of her father’s family and continue the family business, building a new career for herself in the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had we not stopped to ride our bikes in this particular village, we would never have met Madame Jarnay or heard her stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all so thankful for the unscheduled stop and the resulting friendship that we had developed.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="color: blue;">Travel Tip:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unscheduled stops can bring the most interesting stories and information.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rHveApgn-bw/T28uQoihckI/AAAAAAAAAEM/uHJglG7or7M/s1600/IMG_2335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rHveApgn-bw/T28uQoihckI/AAAAAAAAAEM/uHJglG7or7M/s320/IMG_2335.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rTSkpnlUYdI/T28uaaATHhI/AAAAAAAAAEU/1DEJdyNF6OU/s1600/IMG_2336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rTSkpnlUYdI/T28uaaATHhI/AAAAAAAAAEU/1DEJdyNF6OU/s320/IMG_2336.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Brittany, France48.2020471 -2.9326435000000447.3905106 -4.99546100000004 49.013583600000004 -0.86982600000004018tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-13401489714069791632012-02-25T10:26:00.001-07:002012-02-25T10:28:43.994-07:00Difficult Highways in Life<span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> <em><span style="color: black;">It is only through labor and painful effort, by grim energy and resolute courage,<br sb_id="ms__id1564" /> that we move on to better things.<br sb_id="ms__id1565" /> - Theodore Roosevelt</span></em></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Tom and I were driving across <st1:state w:st="on">Wyoming</st1:state> in February on our way home from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Salt Lake City</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather was sunny when we left but became increasingly windy, snowy and cold as we traversed the state, causing the Interstate to finally be closed due to snow and ice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were forced to stop for the night in a small town along the highway and I found myself feeling irritable and annoyed that my trip would be so rudely interrupted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was three hours from home and I wanted to be in my own bed for the night, not here in some small, windy town in rural <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Wyoming</st1:state></st1:place> with nothing but miles of empty land and blowing, howling wind and snow around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had been traveling for several days already and I just wanted to be home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">We checked into the local Holiday Inn Express and as I looked around the packed lobby with all of the stranded travelers, I abruptly realized that I had prayed for safety on this trip and my prayers were being answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was safe, in a clean hotel and I would not be left to sleep in my vehicle, stranded on the side of an icy highway in sub-zero weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt shame at my attitude sweep over me and was thankful to hear that we would have a room for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I looked around the lobby, my eye caught sight of a mother with four young children, all under the age of 7.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked worried but I could tell that she was trying to keep up appearances for her children's sake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard her promising snacks and a trip to the hotel pool once they had checked in and I smiled, remembering the times we took our kids to a hotel for a weekend of swimming and fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew that she was not stopping here for purposes of entertaining her children, but appreciated her attempts to make the unscheduled stay seem like fun, making the best of the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">As Tom and I sat in the breakfast lounge the next morning listening to the news and hoping for the Interstate to open, mom and her brood came down to partake of the free cereals and yogurts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sat at an adjacent table and caught my eye, smiling shyly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I leaned in to speak with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Where are you headed to?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She hesitated for a moment, then spelled out "T E X A S".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was surprised - she was a long way from <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked at her children to make sure they were occupied with their breakfast then slipped into the chair next to me, obviously feeling the need to talk and share more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I am leaving my spouse", she whispered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"He's abusive and doesn't know that I've left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took the children while he was at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don't have anything but our clothes and our van and I'm traveling to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Texas</st1:state></st1:place> to be with my parents."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I searched her face - she was anxious, yet determined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Where are you from?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"<st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Oregon</st1:place></st1:state>," she answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked at my pleadingly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"How long will this interstate be closed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to get my children back on the road."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shook my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Wyoming</st1:place></st1:state> - who could tell?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've seen this interstate be closed for days at a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We discussed her travel plans and I provided her with as much information as I could about her route and what she could expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart ached as I thought of her driving so far, all alone with four children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not know what the circumstances were that had prompted this drastic step, but I silently prayed for her safety and her future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The Interstate remained closed and Tom pulled out the <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Wyoming</st1:place></st1:state> state map.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found an alternative route that was open, although it would add an additional six hours to our trip and we had no idea what the road conditions would be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We opted to leave and as we checked out of the hotel I glanced back into the lobby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom and her kids were still there, waiting out the storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She waved and gave me a weak smile and I acknowledged her with my own wave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Lord," I prayed, "protect this woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Provide her with safety as she travels and bring peace to her and her children."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">We arrived home hours later and the Interstate remained close for another two days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was glad we had made the decision to re-route but I could not stop thinking of that young mother, stranded alone with her children, anxious to be with her parents and start a new life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mentally followed her travels, thinking about how far she would get once the roads opened and how soon she could be joined with her family in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know why she felt the need to share with me, but I'm glad that she did and as a mother myself, my heart goes out to her and to her parents. I will continue to pray for her and the challenges ahead, praying for courage and wisdom as she recreates her future in "T E X A S".</span></div><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">Give me your eyes for just one minute, give me your eyes so I can see. Everything that I keep missing, give me your love for humanity.....Brandon Heath</span></em><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><em>What did you see today?<o:p></o:p></em></b></span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-49452416245863308342012-02-18T15:56:00.001-07:002012-02-18T20:15:30.057-07:00Le Boat: Lessons on the Lock<em><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Le Boat, Canals and Locks</span></b></em><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>It is one of the phenomena of the inland waterways that you can go for hours without meeting another boat, then will encounter one on the sharpest and nastiest bend in the system.</strong></span> ~ </span><span style="color: #660000; font-size: 13pt;">From <em>Journeys of The Swan</em> by John Liley (1971)</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We arrived at the boat dock at the appointed time, ready and anxious to board our floating home for the next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Jacques, the boat attendant, walked us from the check-in station down to the river front he explained to Tom and Jim that they would receive a lesson in operating the locks that we would be encountering along the canals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of them were manned by attendants who lived at the lock stations, he explained, but others would be manual and when we approached the manual locks we would have to operate them ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Here is your boat”, he said in heavily accented English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let me show you around”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all climbed aboard and looked at each, grinning and chuckling as we attempted to follow Jacques through the narrow hallway towards the galley of the boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim is a tall guy and it was quickly clear that he would not be able to stand up inside this boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness we had an open top with a table, chairs and a second station for driving the boat, because Jim would be walking in a bent fashion through the inside and would need somewhere to stretch out! <o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Jacques moved quickly and surely through the small interior, pointing into the 3 bedrooms as we passed the doorways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We quickly tried to peer in as we passed and I caught glimpses of small beds and even smaller bathrooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We moved into the more open galley area and here was our kitchen and dining room for the week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Jacques moved on to show Jim and Tom the engine and teach them the basics of the boat operation, Jan and I stopped to explore the cupboards of the galley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I was astounded as I discovered delicate china cups and plates in the small wood cupboards and held them out to Jan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Look at this!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>China dishes on a boat in the canals!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I exclaimed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked up and laughed for she had made some equally fun discoveries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pulled up a glass French press coffee maker and tiny ceramic egg cups and spoons for our 3-minute eggs in the mornings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We laughed and laughed – only in France!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was used to camping with chipped and dented metal military mess kits and an old cast iron skillet to perch on a grate over the open fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was not anticipating delicate china dishes, formal silverware, cloth napkins and cut glass salt and pepper shakers in my camping stock!<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When Jacques and the guys came back into the galley area, Jacques inquired if we had purchased food to stock our boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Saturday, he explained, and all the shops in the little villages along our route would be closed on Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had not had the chance to shop so Jacques offered to drive Jan and me to the closest grocery store while Tom and Jim packed our belongings into the boat and filled the water tank with fresh drinking water from a hose that Jacques supplied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Jan and I were laughing as we jumped into the van with Jacques and drove away, leaving Tom and Jim looking a bit confused with the piles of luggage at their feet and a green rubber hose hanging from their hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grocery was set to close at 6:00 and it was 5:30 when Jacques pulled up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hurry!” he said as we jumped from the van and headed towards the entrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I must run to a store for my wife, I will pick you up at 6:00”, he called as we dashed away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jan and I looked around in confusion as we entered the store – where should we start and what did we need, we wondered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a short suggested stock list that our boat welcome package included, but beyond that we had no idea what to expect.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">With Jan leading the way and interpreting the signs, we began to gather our groceries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our refrigerator was tiny and would not hold much and we knew that we would have to picnic often, since we could not always plan to be near a village at lunch time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We quickly gathered what we felt were the basics, finding cheese and meat delicacies in the open meat cases, crusty French bread in the bakery and fresh fruits, eggs and milk in the dairy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All that was left was the French wine and this is where the confusion set in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many varieties to choose from!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally devised a plan – I watched the locals that came through the wine aisles and I followed them to see what their selections were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a particular Bordeaux that seemed quite popular and the price was right, so I loaded several bottles into my cart and off we went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We paid for the groceries, bagged them in our own shopping bags and dashed back outside the store right at 6:00.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jacques was just pulling up to the front when we exited, exhausted but proud of ourselves for navigating so quickly through a French grocery store with no list.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You are done already?” Jacques exclaimed in surprise when he saw us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I was sure you would take much longer”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Oh no, Jacques,” Jan said as we loaded our bags into his van.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You said 6:00 and we didn’t want to keep you waiting, you have been so kind to bring us here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grinned and thanked us, driving us back to our boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">After helping us carry the bags down to the boat and into the galley he led us toward a small boat house for our lock training.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all excited to learn but a bit unsure about the lesson being conducted in the boat house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could we learn to operate manual canal locks without seeing the lock and experiencing opening it, we wondered?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jacques proudly pulled 4 chairs around a small television set, pushed an old video tape into an adjacent VCR and said with a flourish, “This movie will show you how to open the locks on your own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will be waiting outside and you can leave when you are done.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pushed START on the VCR, waved his hand, and disappeared out the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The video began with a friendly man smiling and standing atop a lock. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He began to demonstrate the operation of the lock, providing important instructions throughout the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The instructions, however, were all in French and we could not understand a word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sat in shock for a moment then, when the absurdity of the situation struck us, we burst out laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon we were wiping tears from our eyes we were laughing so hard and it was impossible to focus on the video.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Well”, Jim said, “I guess we’d better watch closely because we have no idea what he’s telling us.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He got up and pushed REWIND on the VCR and after collecting ourselves, we pulled our chairs closer to the old TV set and proceeded to attempt to memorize the steps we saw demonstrated on the tape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fifteen minutes later the video ended and we were officially trained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look out France!</span></em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez0RZfxGZmE/T0BpMv_IpGI/AAAAAAAAAEE/QtDDt2c3Q2A/s1600/IMG_2332+lock1+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ez0RZfxGZmE/T0BpMv_IpGI/AAAAAAAAAEE/QtDDt2c3Q2A/s320/IMG_2332+lock1+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Brittany, France48.2020471 -2.9326435000000447.3905106 -4.99546100000004 49.013583600000004 -0.86982600000004018tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-80774038427925974122012-02-18T12:57:00.001-07:002012-02-18T20:12:24.405-07:00Cruising through France at 3 Knots<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The lovely thing about cruising is that planning usually turns out to be of little use.<br />
</span></i></b><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN;">- Dom Degnon</span><u><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></u><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><strong>Toms’ Take:</strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Our friend Jan came up with the idea of cruising through the countryside of France on, basically, a house boat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sounds like fun we all said, so the research started. The funny thing about research is it doesn’t matter how much you do; some things are just meant to be figured out when you do it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we had some great laughs doing just that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">We were told we would get some training on navigating and operating the locks before we took the boat out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think something got lost in the translation of the word “training”, to me it sounded like, “there is your boat, see you in a week”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay it was a little more than that but we reasoned, how hard could this really be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just had to keep it between the ditches – literally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Within an hour after we had arrived to pick up the boat, we were cruising down the canal towards our first lock at a blistering speed of 3 knots. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those of you without nautical experience, that translates to 3.445 mph. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That, by the way is top speed for this beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boat was about the size of a 12x60 trailer, and the locks are a generous 14 feet wide. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a quick math lesson it became apparent that getting this boat through the locks was going to prove interesting, to say the least.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Upon approaching a lock it was important to slow your speed down so you can maneuver into the lock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Additionally, there was usually a boat in front of you going through the lock themselves or sometimes two or three waiting in line in front of you to go first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We often had to wait our turns, allowing us ample time to build our anxiety as we watched others go through with seeming grace and ease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Now let me explain something - when you slow the boat down, your steering ability is greatly reduced and it felt like half the time we tried to enter the lock sideways, which explained why the front and both sides of the boat were decorated with big blue bumpers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And those bumpers are bouncy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked very much like a pinball every time we went into a lock and to add to our joy, most locks are a gathering place, so we never lacked for an audience. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My French is bad, but “Crazy Yank” is easy to translate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We left most of the lock entry duties to my buddy Jim, for two reasons. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One, I didn’t want to do it, and two; I didn’t want to do it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used the excuse that I needed to man the ropes. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Most of the locks are manned, but as you get further into the countryside the locks are unmanned and you need to operate the lock yourself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This Job fell to Sandy and Jan, for two reasons. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, I needed to man the ropes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About half way through the fifth day of our seven day journey, we were actually starting to feel somewhat competent with this process.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I know it’s hard to imagine, so I’ll do my best to explain how a typical lock entry went. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the morning after a great breakfast, Sandy and Jan would take the bikes from the roof of the boat and ride along a beautiful trail beside the canal, headed to the next lock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the fresh breeze blowing their hair, the sun shining, beautiful flowers creating a heavenly scent in the air and occasionally stopping to snack on fresh wild raspberries they would peddle along gaily, having great conversation and discussing their wonderful husbands. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their goal was to arrive at the next lock ahead of us and begin the process of opening it for “the beast”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim and I are on the boat deck zipping along at 3 knots, the steady hum of our diesel engine creating a constant background noise, “Burrrrrrrrrrrrrr”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Since Jim was driving the boat I would serve as his gofer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jim you want something to drink?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sure.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here you go.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun is beating down on us so I put up our little beach umbrella and we sit side by side to share the shade. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good thing we are in France. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There’s the lock,” I say. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim slows the boat down, Burrrrrrrrrrrr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The noise gets louder as the engine throttles backwards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We start to drift sideways, Burrrrrrrrrr, the engine revs as Jim puts it in reverse, Burrrrrrrrr, we drift the opposite direction, Burrrrrrrrrr, and we don’t see the low hanging branch on the tree at the edge of the canal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SNAP, there goes our beach umbrella, caught on the branch and dragged across the deck and into the water. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrr, Jim’s moving forward as I’m trying to fish the umbrella out of the water with a mop handle, Burrrrrrrrrrr, the motor groans as we start our pin ball entry into the lock, Burrrrrrrrr,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nearly go overboard rescuing the umbrella. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrr. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">One and a half hours of sheer boredom followed by one and a half minutes of utter terror. After we clear the lock and wipe the sweat from our brow, it starts over. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sandy and Jan are merrily on their way to the next lock and Jim and I fire that bad boy up, Burrrrrrrrrr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jim, do you want a drink?” Burrrrrrrrrrr. “Sure.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Burrrrrrrrrrr.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OF9cr6fC70U/T0BoHbizK7I/AAAAAAAAADs/eglO5M1CADA/s1600/IMG_2293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OF9cr6fC70U/T0BoHbizK7I/AAAAAAAAADs/eglO5M1CADA/s320/IMG_2293.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Brittany, France48.2020471 -2.9326435000000447.3905106 -4.99546100000004 49.013583600000004 -0.86982600000004018tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-32348612585479435412012-02-05T18:46:00.001-07:002012-02-05T19:23:42.521-07:00The Abbey in the Ocean<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>The creation of Mont St Michel</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt;">In 708 the Archangel Michael appeared to Aubert, Bishop of Avranches, and commanded him to build a chapel on the top of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Mont</st1:place></st1:state> Tombe, a rocky island in the middle of an immense bay. Overawed by this apparition, Aubert obeyed and built a sanctuary to the glory of God and Archangel Michael.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></em></span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I had seen pictures of <a href="http://www.ricksteves.com/plan/destinations/france/mont-st-michel.htm">Mont St Michel</a> but nothing prepared me for the actual sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we drove from Ducey towards the historic Abbey, we could see the imposing fortress rising from the haze and mist, guiding us like a beacon as we traveled west.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed to move and shimmer among the clouds, its tall spires reaching heavenward, pointing to the sky and declaring it as a holy place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we traveled comfortably and quickly in our little French rental car I thought of the pilgrims that had journeyed to this site throughout the last 1200 years, crossing the barren land on foot, horseback and perhaps even in a rough cart, anxious to pray with the monks and touch these holy rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their journey may have taken weeks and perhaps months and often at a great toll of personal health and loss. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The Abbey was built on a <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">rock island</st1:city></st1:place> in the ocean and the rising tides created a natural wall of defense for the fortress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People could cross the soft wet sand of the ocean bottom during low tide but when the tide came in at the end of each day, those who did not belong on the island had to be off and gone or the rising saltwater would obstruct their path back to the main land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today there is a modern raised road that allows tourists to drive to the base of the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">rock island</st1:place></st1:city> and park but one must still be aware of the tide and at times, even this raised road has been known to flood causing cars to be swept away.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">As we drove towards the monument we passed through flat pastoral lands, rich with grazing sheep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim navigated us deftly through this countryside at dusk and as we rounded a final corner on our journey, he was forced to put on the brakes and pull over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, in front of us, a shepherd was driving his sheep back from their day in the pasture and across the road that we were traveling to gather safely into their barn for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all leaned forward and lowered our windows, craning our necks to see what was happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sights and sounds that we witnessed during this unplanned stop was utterly amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We heard the soft bleating of the sheep and barking of the herd dogs, nipping at their heels to keep them moving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bells tied around the sheep's throats tinkled softly in the twilight air and the shepherd was calling to his dogs and encouraging the sheep forward. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He raised his hand in a silent wave of acknowledgement to us as we parked off the side of the road to watch his evening ritual and as though in a trance, we raised our hands in return, symbolically thanking him for allowing us this unique experience.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of this was a spectacular sight, but the backdrop was what made this vision truly surreal - for rising above the field and framing the shepherd and his sheep was the fortress of Mont St Michel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom and Jan quickly reached for their cameras and began snapping pictures but I could only stare, burning the image deep into my mind and marveling that I was truly sitting here, beside the road, watching the sheep cross in front of me with the abbey behind them, on their way home from their day of peaceful grazing.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When the sheep had safely crossed we looked at each other in amazement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom said, "I feel as though I am seeing a mirage - there is nothing out here except for this amazing abbey rising from the ocean and a few grazing sheep. It's truly amazing."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all agreed with Tom's observation and when I looked back towards Mont St Michel I could see tiny flickers of light beginning to burn, illuminating the impressive rock the as the sun set in the clouds behind it.<o:p></o:p></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 7.5pt; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">We toured Mont St Michel in the lamplight, picturing how life must have been so many years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The abbey had been built by Monks transferring large granite stones from the mainland to this island, carefully crafting this amazing structure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took several hundred years to construct and the small village at its base housed the supporting community, comprised of tradesmen and crafters who sold their wares to the sequestered monks and supplied the traveling pilgrims as they made their journey to the sacred site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we drove away that evening we were in awe of the men that built this monument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their fortitude, vision and dedication to the construction of this holy site is beyond anything I could comprehend happening today, and I was truly honored to have walked these sacred rocks.</span></em><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Travel Tip: Always take time to learn the history of sights on your itinerary. It will bring the reality of the place home to you when you visit, allowing you to consider how the sight contributed to the formation of the people and the area.</span></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Mont Saint-Michel, France48.636063 -1.51145700000006448.6235635 -1.5322850000000641 48.6485625 -1.4906290000000639tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-72901260915263487892012-01-30T06:18:00.000-07:002012-01-30T06:18:19.118-07:00Airports, Angels Wings and Garmin....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span lang="FR" style="font-family: Georgia; mso-ansi-language: FR;">Charles De Gaulle Airport, Paris France<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: Georgia; mso-ansi-language: FR;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>"If God had really intended men to fly, he'd make it easier to get to the airport." ~George Winters<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those overnight flights are killers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is nothing comfortable about sleeping upright in a cramped airplane seat with strangers all around you, babies crying, men snoring and folks strolling up and down the aisle at all times, bumping into you as they pass your row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And how about that person behind you who insists on using your seat back as a brace when they get up or sit down?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or the person who wants to take off their shoes and stretch their legs out on the seat armrests, practically tucking their stocking feet into your armpits?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really???<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why do people do this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not your living room, I want to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, of course, I do not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I politely try to refrain from doing those same things myself and be the best seatmate possible to those around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm not always successful, but I try.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The flight from <st1:city w:st="on">Dallas</st1:city> to <st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city> was long and uncomfortable but we finally arrived at about 9:00 am <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We landed in a rainstorm and due to construction at the terminal, we had to deplane on the tarmac, walk to the outdoor stairs leading to a temporary elevated walkway that took us to the terminal, climb the stairs with all of our carry on luggage (that's right, no elevators), and traverse the walkway across the top of the tarmac and into the customs building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this while jetlagged, stiff, sore, wet and confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needless to say, my mind was screaming for coffee but from the looks of the line in customs, that was not going to happen any time soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sighed and began to look around me, taking in the strange surroundings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everyone was crowded together into a tight mass, moving and winding slowly through the customs lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The signs were in French and the announcements on the loudspeakers were heralded by a soft sweet melodic sound that we later dubbed "angels wings".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We quickly learned that each time we heard the "angels wings", a feminine French voice would come through the speaker system, instructing and guiding us through the maze of customs and connecting flight information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course we understood none of it but I must admit, the angels wings and the corresponding woman's voice was a soothing sound in such a busy and confusing airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was almost mesmerizing and when I visited Charles De Gaulle a few years later on another connecting flight, I was instantly elated to hear the familiar sound of "angels wings".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It took forever to navigate through that customs line and then to find our baggage claim, but eventually we did and thankfully all of our bags were there waiting when we arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took an equally long amount of time to find the rental car counter, as we were planning to drive ourselves from <st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city> to <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Tourism-g230045-Ducey_Manche_Basse_Normandie_Normandy-Vacations.html">Ducey</a>, a small town in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Normandy</st1:state></st1:place> and our stop for the night, before we traveled on to pick up "the boat."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finding the counter was only half the battle - the second half was actually finding the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But eventually we did and we struggled to fit all of our bags into the tiny French automobile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom and Jim are no strangers to packing cars, though, and they quickly figured out how to squeeze every last drop of luggage into that tiny hatchback.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now for the next adventure - getting out of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> and into the countryside!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this would be easy, we reasoned, for we had borrowed a Garmin from a friend and surely we could plug it right in and we would be on our way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or so the instructions would have you believe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparently we had rented the only car in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> that did not have a cigarette lighter adaptor to supply power to the Garmin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's right - there was not one single 120 Volt adaptor anywhere in that car and the Garmin battery was as dead as a doornail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked at each other in disbelief and Tom said to me, the trip planner, "Sandy, you did a MapQuest on this place for backup, right?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My expression said it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No - MapQuest had been the last thing on my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all - Garmin was supposed to replace MapQuest, making the program obsolete in our new world of modern technology!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few long moments of silence, Tom slowly got out of the car and began to unpack the bags in the hatchback.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had the stand by maps of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> but as luck would have it, they were tucked in the bottom suitcase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This day was getting longer by the moment!</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hours later, we were still circling <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> with no idea of how to get away from that city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as though we were reliving Rome all over again, driving in circles around this massive city and fighting traffic, going around and around in a giant toilet-bowl like manner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom was trying valiantly to read the maps and the street signs, Jan was doing her best to interpret the French and Jim was driving us through the chaos, operating on no sleep in the last 24 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I resolved to stay quiet, realizing that I had little to offer to this effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it seemed that we could no longer function, I saw a Comfort Inn hotel and suggested that we pull in and ask directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim pulled up to the curb, Tom risked his life by opening his door into oncoming traffic and jumping out, then ran to the hotel lobby in search of someone that could speak English and help us find our way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came back with written instructions and thankfully, the English speaking concierge was helpful and we were soon on our way out of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We breathed a sigh of relief as the traffic thinned and the passing scenery became pastoral instead of Parisian.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We hadn't eaten since the airplane breakfast and when we saw the familiar McDonald's sign in a small country village, we quickly pulled in for a meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not a McDonald's fan but I must tell you, I had the freshest salad at this tiny restaurant that I have ever eaten at a McDonalds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of us could believe the quality of our meal and we were all wishing that the US McDonalds could come here to take a lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or maybe we were just famished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either way, it was wonderful and our moods instantly elevated as we nourished our tired bodies and soon we were even chuckling a bit at our escapade. </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our itinerary for this day called for an overnight stop at a <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g230045-d227323-Reviews-BEST_WESTERN_Le_Moulin_de_Ducey-Ducey_Manche_Basse_Normandie_Normandy.html">Best Western in Ducey</a> and a visit to <st1:address w:st="on">Mont St. Michel</st1:address>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was excited to see the French monastery, built on a rock off the coast and inhabited by Monks since the 15th century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pictures I had seen were breathtaking and I understood that it was only a few miles from Ducey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we drove towards the coast the countryside was becoming more hilly and as we came up over a rise in the road I gasped -- there, miles away, I could see the hazy image of Mont St Michel rising from the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim paused the car on the top of the hill and we all looked, straining to see this amazing sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our excitement increased and we were suddenly energetic again, anxious to get to the hotel, check in, and then go out to explore this vision.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wYb5lo__R3Q/TyaYCIi8NiI/AAAAAAAAADU/EeADyH8jgCY/s1600/Ducy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wYb5lo__R3Q/TyaYCIi8NiI/AAAAAAAAADU/EeADyH8jgCY/s320/Ducy1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">Travel Tip: Even with a GPS device, things can go wrong. Before leaving print a MapQuest of your first leg of the trip as a backup. It will come in handy when you're jet lagged and tired in a strange city!</span></span></o:p></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Ducey, France48.619481 -1.2938169999999948.6017955 -1.32687749999999 48.6371665 -1.26075649999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-26841262793141300542012-01-28T08:51:00.000-07:002012-01-28T08:51:42.161-07:00Crusing through France<strong><em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paris"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Paris</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, </span><a href="http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/mont-st-michel"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mont St Michel</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, </span><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/SmartDeals-g187189-Honfleur_Calvados_Basse_Normandie_Normandy-Hotel-Deals.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Honfleur</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Normandy_landings"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Normandy</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Normandy_landings"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D-Day Beaches</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, </span><a href="http://www.westernfrancetouristboard.com/brittany.html"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brittany</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> countryside and </span><a href="http://www.leboat.com/"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Le Boat</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span></em></strong><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><o:p> </o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. ~<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">St. Augustine</st1:place></st1:city><o:p></o:p></i></strong></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tom and I had never been to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> and while it was on my radar, I had not necessarily determined exactly what I wanted to see or visit there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was in the back of my mind to visit, but that was all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until one day when our friend Jan brought out a flyer for Le Boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p>"Look at this!" she said excitedly, as she spread the pamphlet out on the counter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"We can rent our own little houseboat and navigate ourselves through the countryside of France, all at our own pace."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom and I looked over her shoulder with interest - the idea of our own little houseboat in the French countryside was appealing and sounded very much like our kind of adventure!</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p>As we looked at the brochure and began our planning, I became more and more excited but also, confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We discovered that we could rent the houseboat (and there were SO many styles and sizes to choose from) and then select an itinerary for a self-cruise through <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The prices would vary depending on the size and style of the boat as well as the selected itinerary and time of year for travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being the off-shoulder travelers that we are, we quickly determined that we would pick the first two weeks of September for our excursion, which was right at the end of the boating season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would still be warm, but the summer crowds would be gone and the waterways would be less crowded.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But now for the boat and itinerary!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had to select our boat with care - this would be our home for a full week and it could get a bit cramped for four adults and luggage. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was going to be alot like camping - sort of an RV on the river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And like any RV, there were multiple models to choose from, each with varying degrees of luxury.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We reviewed the brochure details over and over, studying the tiny floor plan maps as best we could, trying to determine which boat was the right size but within the budget we had determined to spend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom, Jan, Jim and I spent evenings with the LeBoat brochures and maps of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1:place> spread out on our kitchen table, sipping French wine, eating brie cheese and excitedly poring over the details until we settled on just the right boat and itinerary for our adventure.</span></div><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We would cruise through the canals and rivers of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brittany</st1:place></st1:state> on a boat that listed three bedroom cabins each with a bath and shower, kitchen and dining/living space and an upper deck with picnic table, chairs and umbrella for outdoor living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bikes could be rented for an additional fee and we quickly added them to our order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would be tied onto the back of the boat and we could use them for our transportation when we stopped at the villages along the canals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was getting so exciting!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was going to be a very relaxing and fun filled week with no television, no distractions and no traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We began our planning a year before we actually took off and during the next several months we held the image of Le Boat and the French waterways in our minds as we went about our daily lives and responsibilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That image kept us going and our families joined in the fun of helping us make the dream a reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We planned French dinner nights to meet and discuss our plans and sipped French wines to prepare out palettes for the flavors of the country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pored over French tour books, identifying the best stops along the way and the sights that we would see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Jan brushed up on her college French, determined that she would be able to speak with the locals wherever we went.</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, September 1 arrived and we boarded the American flight that would take us to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bon Voyage!!!</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Cbf5VFxlvf4/TyQYX84EKiI/AAAAAAAAADE/oHizOLv-dnM/s1600/IMG_2234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Cbf5VFxlvf4/TyQYX84EKiI/AAAAAAAAADE/oHizOLv-dnM/s320/IMG_2234.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fJ4Kfj6p3Us/TyQY1UN453I/AAAAAAAAADM/f9pEkR2iSiE/s1600/IMG_2240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fJ4Kfj6p3Us/TyQY1UN453I/AAAAAAAAADM/f9pEkR2iSiE/s320/IMG_2240.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Travel Tip:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Travel books such as Fodors, Frommers and Rick Steve's are often helpful for planning vacations, but can be expensive when purchased new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shop on <a href="http://amazon.com/">Amazon.Com</a> and select a slightly used, year old version of the travel book you want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You'll save money and seldom does much of the information change from last year to this.</span></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Rennes, France48.113475 -1.67570799999998648.0744205 -1.7397954999999861 48.1525295 -1.6116204999999859tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-84580269899491036352012-01-09T21:43:00.000-07:002012-01-09T21:43:34.398-07:00What did you see today?<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;">What
did you see today?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt;"><em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible
to others.”</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jonathan Swift<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Seeing
the historical sights of ancient <st1:city w:st="on">Rome</st1:city>, studying
the intricate paintings on the Vatican ceiling, admiring the colorful reef fish
in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Hawaii</st1:place></st1:state>,
watching an active volcano erupt in the night.....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some might say you require vision to see
these things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I would say, that is
true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But do you need eyesight to see
the soul?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you need eyesight to
experience love and the touch of a friend?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How do we see these things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
intangible things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gifts of life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My
husband Tom is my rock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has always
had the perfect vision in our family - the 20/20 vision and the proverbial
"eyes like a hawk".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing
escaped his sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could see the
eagle nesting in a far away tree, the sea turtle bobbing among the waves, the
tiny shellfish hiding in a coral reef and the far away castle set on a
hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He can frame pictures in his minds
eye and shoot them quickly with his canon camera, resulting in images beyond my
perception or vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His pictures tell
stories of people, places and nature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
gift of sight is precious and dear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
never realize how much that is true until a day comes and we lose some of what
we had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never thought such a day would
come in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
day started like any other and progressed so normally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It ended like most of our days do -- at the health
club working off the stress of the day before we head home to relax and
recharge for tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was startled
when I walked out of the gym and realized that Tom had tried calling me
repeatedly while I was inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sight
of so many missed calls within a quick timeframe made my heart skip a quick
beat and I hit "redial" as quickly as I could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Are
you still at the gym?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I affirmed that I was he said, "can
you bring me home?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can't see out of my
left eye and I don't think I should drive.". <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What?" I exclaimed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Are you sure??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What happened?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that's just it - nothing
"happened".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
nothing tangible that Tom could point to, he simply lost sight in his left eye
while riding the exercise bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No pain, no flash of light, no
discomfort, no other symptoms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does this happen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As
we met with the eye specialist the next day we both felt confident that his
sight would return soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely this was
a misunderstanding of some sort - there had to be a miracle drop that would
bring back his vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all - we
sent a man to the moon and we can transplant hearts and perform other medical
miracles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This should<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be simple!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But
as the meeting progressed and the doctor's face became grim, I felt my
confidence beginning to fade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
taking too long and he was running too many tests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'll never forget what happened next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dr. K showed us the pictures of the inside of
Tom's eye - pictures he'd captured on his high tech computer system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grimly explained the blood clot that had
burst causing damage to the optic nerves and showed us the outline on the
computer image.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat back and looked
at us, his face stoic and unmoving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
hesitated to ask the question - yet it begged to be asked and sat larger then
an elephant in the small examining room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>"Is the vision loss permanent?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard Tom ask softly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw the doctor nod once, then say
"Yes, I am afraid that it is."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My mind began screaming inside as I struggled to remain calm on the
outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband and I were in shock
as the doctor began to explain the situation and what had happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He then sent us on to the hospital to check
in and begin a series of tests to attempt to uncover the cause of this blood
clot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We numbly left his office and
headed to the emergency room, not sure what to say or where to begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It
was a long weekend, full of tests and MRI's, scans and ultrasounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, nothing was uncovered and no
cause was determined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the verdict
remained the same - the vision loss was permanent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
loss of sight to someone as active as Tom will be difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immediately we wondered if he could still
SCUBA dive, play golf, drive a car and of course, take pictures?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we pondered the situation and began to
come to grips with it, God began to reveal marvelous and wonderful things to
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friends began to pour out their love
and sympathy as word spread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our children
were there non-stop, demonstrating their love and commitment to their father
and friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our granddaughter climbed
into Papa's hospital bed and snuggled with him to watch cartoons and share his
lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life and love poured out to us in
more ways then we could imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
none of it needed to be seen - all of it was felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Genuinely and truly, felt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tom
is a people person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has the gift of
seeing beyond the exterior of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
can discern their spirit and he makes people laugh with his quick and friendly
nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows no strangers, no matter
where we go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone likes Tom and
everyone gravitates toward him and his natural and radiant personality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sees people beyond their physical presence
- he sees their hearts and he seeks to know them beyond what is obvious to
others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
have realized something so precious through all of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Losing eye sight in one eye is difficult and
disappointing - but it's truly not the loss of vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible
to others - the heart, the soul and the inner beauty of mankind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom has always done that anyway - this sight
loss merely allows him the opportunity to use his true vision more completely,
in travels and at home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Our
extraordinary travels will continue - for we are an ordinary couple but we seek
the extraordinary adventures in life and this does not require 20/20 vision in
both eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It requires eyes for the soul
and a longing to see past the exterior, allowing for God's vision to overtake
our own, creating a new sight for our own tired eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each day we are given a new vision but we
must choose to see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What did you see today?</i></span></div>
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<br /></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Windsor, CO, USA40.4774818 -104.901361740.3808558 -105.05929019999999 40.5741078 -104.7434332tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-78038790808233686962011-12-26T14:05:00.000-07:002011-12-26T14:05:26.040-07:00Buon Natale<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And this will be a sign for you:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke 2:12</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The medieval walled <st1:placetype w:st="on">village</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on"><a href="http://www.abctuscany.com/arezzo/laterina/index.cfm">Laterina</a></st1:placename> lies high on a hill in the <st1:city w:st="on">Arezzo</st1:city> region of <st1:state w:st="on">Tuscany</st1:state>, overlooking the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Arno</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">River</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Valley</st1:placetype></st1:place>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The community was about 6 KM from the farmhouse we were staying in and we drove by this walled fortress almost every day on our way to somewhere else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we passed by I would peer up at the walls, wondering what lay on the other side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laterina was not listed in any of our tour books and was not considered a sight of any monumental value in the eyes of Fodors, Frommers or Rick Steves, so we continued to drive by without pause. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Finally, my curiosity got the best of me and on Sunday morning, December 11, when we had little on our itinerary for the day, I suggested to Tom and our friends that we drive up and explore Laterina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were game and we jumped in the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a light rain falling and the skies were gray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We weren't expecting much and when we drove up to the walls, we discovered we needed to park outside the city and walk in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We grabbed our umbrellas and began the trudge up hill, traversing slippery cobblestones and hoping that the outcome was worth the effort!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we approached the city we began to see signs announcing a Christmas festival that day and soon, we were accompanied by Italian families with children, eagerly climbing up the steep walk to enter the city walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked at each other and grinned - this could be fun and interesting!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'd already discovered the Italian tradition of building nativity scenes (Presepe) in their churches and communities and we began to see familiar words on the banners, announcing a <a href="http://italian.about.com/library/weekly/aa120899b.htm">Presepe</a> ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As we turned the final corner we entered the main piazza of the village and there we discovered the Christmas festival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parents and children were scurrying about from booth to booth, playing games and competing for prizes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Santa Claus (or someone dressed like him!) was visiting with children and handing out bags of goodies and food stalls and craft stands were setup in the streets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Men were milling about, roasting chestnuts on fires for sale and sipping hot spiced wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Women were chasing after their excited children and calling greetings to one another, trying to keep up in the light rain on the slippery cobblestone streets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" was crooning from a loud speaker and the sound of his mellow voice singing the traditional carol reverberated around the village, as it bounced off the old stone walls of the city buildings.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What a unique treat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was not a Christmas festival for tourists, that much was clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was entirely local and we were, to our best guess, the only Americans - or tourists, for that matter - in the entire piazza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People were friendly towards us and as we milled among the craft stalls we began to pick up on a theme - there were stars with long tails above many of the doorways in the village streets and people were coming and going out of each open door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were talking and laughing excitedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had seen the sign announcing the Presepe but had not yet found it and began to look around curiously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A young woman who spoke limited English saw our confusion and approached us with a friendly smile. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The village was hosting a Presepe contest, she explained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every family and church had built their own nativity scene and all were on display in their homes, church buildings, etc. Everywhere the star was displayed over the door, a Presepe was inside for viewing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She quickly led us to the closest doorway and indicated we should go in and look around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What we saw astounded us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were several nativity scenes, all created in a variety of materials and with a varied appearance, on display throughout the church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They ranged extensively in their levels of complexity, from the simplest design created by two little girls aged 5 and 6, to an elaborate mechanical display with multiple moving parts, pieces and working lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We began to explore the doorways marked by stars - there were well over a hundred different displays, I'm sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each was different then the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not envy those making the decision for the winning Presepe as all were beautiful in their own unique ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We became separated as we were looking around and as I stepped out of one house foyer and turned the corner, I found myself alone in a small medieval alleyway, with a light misty rain falling and the ancient beauty of the village surrounding me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Suddenly I heard the soft, sweet sound of a young girls voice singing "Silent Night" in Italian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't understand the words but I knew the song and I knew what she was singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The emotion of the moment struck me and before I knew it, I had tears streaming down my cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beauty of the nativity scenes, the lilting sweet voice singing a universally cherished song and the realization that I was standing in a village over 1,000 years old and celebrating the events surrounding Jesus' birth with complete strangers, overwhelmed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The simplicity of his birth, born in a manger with a star proclaiming his blessed arrival and announcing him to the shepherds and wise men is a story that never fades and never loses its appeal to Christians around the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Buon Natale (Merry Christmas) to my friends and fellow Christians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May his peace surround you and may you always hold the spirit of his birth in your hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tip:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you know that Christmas Carols and the traditional Nativity scene originated in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Italy</st1:place></st1:country-region>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_of_Assisi">St. Francis of <st1:city w:st="on">Assisi</st1:city></a> introduced the carol and the concept soon spread all across <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also created the first nativity scene using live animals and a manger strewn with hay to re-enact the story of Christ's birth.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://italian.about.com/library/weekly/aa120600b.htm">http://italian.about.com/library/weekly/aa120600b.htm<o:p></o:p></a></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nativity_scene">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nativity_scene<o:p></o:p></a></span></div><br />
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</div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com052020 Laterina Arezzo, Italy43.5079617 11.71982230000003343.4808352 11.672740300000033 43.535088200000004 11.766904300000032tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-13947846185501989862011-11-25T16:05:00.000-07:002011-11-25T16:05:26.886-07:00Packing for Italy<h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>"When preparing to travel, lay out all your clothes and all your money. Then take half the clothes and twice the money.</em> " - Susan Heller</span></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></h1><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><div style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love going on trips, but I dread the packing. I'm getting better at it I must admit, but I still dread it. I find myself planning way in advance of the departure date, virtually coordinating and packing outfits in my head and wondering how many days those little bottles of travel shampoo will last.</span></div><div style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I looked at the calendar this morning I was struck with a mixed feeling of anxiety and excitement - we are leaving for Italy in 10 days from now!! I have to start packing and planning this weekend and be ready by this Sunday night - even though our departure date is Monday December 5. I need to be ready ahead of time since I have a major project wrapping up at work this next week and I'll be flying to Newark, New Jersey December 1-2 to present it. UGGGHHH! Now, I'm <em>really</em> feeling anxious. What if the weather in Newark is bad and my flight home on Friday night is delayed? What if I don't get home at all? What if I miss my flight to Italy? What if.... what if .... what if..... The list could go on and on and on. Deep breath. Calm down. Okay - think logically. What do I need to do today, in order to be prepared and relaxed by Monday, December 5?</span></div><div style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Let me explain the purpose of this next trip. My wonderful husband and our dearest friends have planned a get away for all of us for my "milestone birthday", occurring on December 10. We are renting a farmhouse in Tuscany for 7 days and then transferring to Venice for 4 days before coming home on December 16. I can't believe we are going to do this - it's really a dream come true. As I've explained in this blog, I'm a bargain shopper and I travel on a shoestring budget. That translates to finding the deals (I comb the internet and select sites), traveling during the shoulder or off seasons (luckily, my birthday is during the off season for most destinations -- pre-Christmas, post-Thanksgiving) and using frequent flier miles, hotel points, car rental points, etc. When Tom and our friends first brought up the idea of a trip to me, they were recommending a Christmas market tour through Germany. This really did sound wonderful but as I researched and planned, I realized that the trip would be very expensive, difficult to navigate in bad weather, and honestly, how many gingerbread men can you really look at it in two weeks? So I began my research and planning for a trip in December that all of us could enjoy.</span></div><div style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I came upon a trusted website that I had used with great success before, <a href="http://sceptretours.com/">sceptretours.com</a>. Tom and I had used this group earlier this year for a trip to Ireland and the entire experience was perfect, from the pricing to the accomodations. It was on their website that I found our destination -- Il Borro Estate (<a href="http://ilborro.com/">ilborro.com</a>). The package included airfare from New York, a 7-day car rental, and a 2-bedroom, 2-bath farmhouse for 7 nights, for 4 adults. It looked beautiful, tucked in a small medieval village in Tuscany with olive groves, vineyards and a full restaurant with the option for private cooking lessons with the chef. This would be our vacation destination - we all love Italy and the idea of a peaceful Tuscan farmhouse in the countryside between Florence and Siena represented my idea of heaven on earth. I called Sceptre, added airfare to/from Denver and a side excursion to Venice for after we checked out of the farmhouse. The price nudged up a bit, but not much and after calling my friends and my husband, I booked the trip. We were going! Now, to find a hotel in Venice for three nights. For this part of my itinerary I turned to another trusted advisor, <a href="http://tripadvisor.com/">Tripadvisor.com</a>. I researched Venitian hotels in the approximate area I knew we wanted to stay and came up with a lovely option, Hotel Canal Grande (<a href="http://hotelcanalgrande.it/">hotelcanalgrande.it</a>). I emailed them directly and due to the off-peak timing of our stay, they offered us a special rate that included extras such as a full daily breakfast and gondola transportation. We were set!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">But alas, back to the packing. I've been checking <a href="http://weatherunderground.com/">weatherunderground.com</a> and so far the weather looks pretty promising -- highs in the 50's, lows in the 30's. Some sun, some rain. I'll take 3 pairs of nice jeans, 2 pairs of black pants, sweaters to mix and match, a scarf, a light jacket and a trench coat. Good walking boots and a pair of tennis shoes and workout clothes - I'm set! It sounds so simple when I describe it like this but I know that the process will take alot more time and energy. "The devil is in the details" when it comes to packing - ensuring the clothes all mix and match, a few select pieces of jewelry that will work to dress up or down any sweater and matches with them all, and then those little nagging "things". Shampoo bottles, makeup containers, kleenex packets and medicines/vitamins/aspirins, etc. Then, what comes on the plane with me and what can go in checked baggage? In other words - what can I live without, should it not appear in Pisa when I do? It's the little things that drive me crazy, but when I start to lose my mind counting daily vitamin doses into miniature containers, I'll pull up the website for Il Borro, sip a calming glass of Italian wine, and dream about how it will feel to be there in just a few more days...... </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial;"><em>Travel Tip: Pack a few days ahead of time if at all possible. This helps to eliminate that last minute stress and the risk of forgetting something important. It also allows you to free your mind and enjoy your time leading up to the departure - keeping everyone more sane and calm in the process.</em></span></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Venice, Italy45.4343363 12.33878440000000945.2605943 12.107061400000008 45.608078299999995 12.570507400000009tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-25080842062958201802011-10-22T08:53:00.000-06:002011-10-22T08:53:43.799-06:00Go West Young Man! (The West End, that is!)<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>"Go West young man and grow up with the country." Horace Greeley</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">It was our last day on Roatan. Tomorrow, we would fly home. We had been having a ball - exploring the island, meeting new people, scuba diving and snorkeling and generally just relaxing, laughing and enjoying life on island time. We were all soundly in love with this island and knew that we were making the right choice to invest here. But - we still had not found our land. Nothing was quite yet fitting our needs and we were beginning to feel disappointment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">The island is divided into two "ends" - the East End and the West End. The West End, as its name implies, is the west side of the island and is home to a stunning segment of white sand beach and an adorable little village packed with shops, restaurants and small hotels. We enjoyed coming into West End each day to eat dinner, stroll the white sand beach and cool off in the beautiful, stunning clear waters. The East End is beautiful, too but most of the tourist activities and small hotels and restaurants are located in West End. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">As we sat on our rental house deck and sipped coffee, preparing our agenda for our last day on the island, Steve showed up with some interesting news. He had just discovered that a plot of vacant land on a protected bay known as Gibson Bight on the west end of the island was for sale and he wanted us to have a look. We gamely piled into the Squia and drove towards the west end, following Steve's lead. When we stopped, got out of the Squia and took a look around the land we knew instantly - this was what we were hoping for! It was a beautiful piece of land that was right on Gibson Bight and covered with fruit trees, avocado trees, plush vegetation and access to the ocean. It even had an old well in one corner. We were stunned and pleased - we had passed the entrance to this property every day on our way to/from the West End and had no idea this would be our final destination!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">We fell in love and told Steve - this is it! Let's buy this land before we leave the island tomorrow. And so we did. We were off to Steve's office to settle the paper work and begin the adventure of buying land in a foreign country - a country and culture that we were quickly embracing and excited to join. We had done our homework and knew that purchasing land in Honduras required forming a corporation but we had not considered the name of our future corporation until we sat in Steve's air conditioned office and began the paperwork process. When Steve asked for the name we all looked at each with a blank expression - what should it be? Our last names seemed so boring and ordinary and we wanted something that represented our time in Roatan. Suddenly someone said "What about Squia? We can name our corporation after the van!" At first we all laughed but then we knew - this was the name we would choose! It was certainly unique and definitely reflective of our island adventures and we would always remember the reason for the name. The Squia Corporation it is! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">And so we ended our week with a newly formed corporation and a wonderful piece of land that we were excited to some day expand on. As we headed back to the airport the next day and unpacked our mountain of luggage, we felt the tug of sadness at leaving but this was coupled with the excitement of knowing we were definitely coming back - again and again and again and again!!! All in all - a wonderful week.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OUCZfu-C9iU/TqLXOvCNHiI/AAAAAAAAACA/773W0a0fdW8/s1600/Roatan_05+100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OUCZfu-C9iU/TqLXOvCNHiI/AAAAAAAAACA/773W0a0fdW8/s320/Roatan_05+100.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kVwcpqcMDjg/TqLXtlPlcnI/AAAAAAAAACI/PsnSvsBlK7E/s1600/Roatan_05+134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kVwcpqcMDjg/TqLXtlPlcnI/AAAAAAAAACI/PsnSvsBlK7E/s320/Roatan_05+134.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Isla de Roatan, Honduras16.3297608 -86.5299673000000116.246823799999998 -86.737076800000011 16.4126978 -86.322857800000008tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-59648462848475933892011-09-10T09:46:00.001-06:002011-09-10T11:57:30.552-06:00This land is your land, this land is my land...<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Attributed to Mark Twain</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The first morning of our land seeking adventure dawned clear, blue and hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steve joined us at the island house right at 9 am as he'd promised and we sat down with a cup of coffee to discuss our plans for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What exactly are you looking for?" Steve asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We appreciated his need to understand our goals and we shared that we were looking for a nice piece of property within a certain budget range, close to the water and with opportunities for expansion and perhaps a future business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steve considered our requirements for a moment, asked a few more questions to clarify, then said "follow me!".</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We piled into our van and followed Steve back to the main road, and away we went on our land hunting adventure!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steve showed us a variety of land, homes and small business opportunities over the next several days and the more we looked, the more confused we became.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roatan is an island with limited land available for purchase and it quickly became evident that there was not a great need for title research and land survey reports, as everyone knew who owned what land and where the borders were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we walked across a stretch of property Steve would do a wide sweep with his hand and say, "Henry owns the land on that side - the border is right there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His brother Gordon owns the land on this side and this particular piece is owned by Henry's 3rd wife Vera, who wants to sell and move to the mainland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She's not getting along with Henry these days and she wants to move back with her family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, if you buy this, you'll have to negotiate the water rights with Gordon and the access rights with Joe, who owns the land in front of Gordon that you'll need to cross to get to this piece...."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so it went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tried valiantly to take notes and keep all of this straight in our heads and I was completely impressed that Steve knew all the ins, outs and particulars of every piece of land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found myself humming in my head, "<em>This land is your land, this land is my land ...."</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We didn't spend all of our time with Steve as we wanted to explore land that was listed by other agents, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time that we purchased Roatan didn't have our equivalent of an MLS and agents were somewhat limited to showing their own property listings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we engaged the services of a woman named Evelyn, whose website indicated that she had several years of experience and a large variety of land to sell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Evelyn</span>, it turned out, wasn't quite as interested in aligning with our budget and goals and ended up showing us some beautiful pieces of property but way out of alignment with our budget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'll never forget one property in particular - and not because the land was so memorable, but because of our SQUIA adventures in getting to the land!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had to climb a very narrow and steep dirt road up the side of a jungle covered hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our SQUIA was not a 4-wheel drive vehicle and let me tell you, I've been on rugged 4 wheel drive roads in Colorado that were in much better shape then this one!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But with Jim behind the wheel and the SQUIA squealing like mad, we managed to grind and bump our way up that hill, following Evelyn in her 4-wheel drive Land Cruiser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were hanging on, swaying, bumping and sweating in the back of the van as we climbed what seemed to be a straight uphill road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally - we made it to the top!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We parked where Evelyn indicated (actually - the road ended, so we really had no choice!), but the parking was not flat and we worried the van might roll right back down that hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim, Ransom and Jamison stayed with the van while the rest of us piled out and navigated our way down the other side of that hill to the beach front property below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is where it became interesting - for the guys on the hill, at least!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we had explored the land and hiked back up the hill to debrief the guys, we discovered that they had experienced an adventure all their own!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The van had indeed begun to slide back down that hill and it took Jim, Ransom and Jamison struggling with the brakes and pushing against it with sheer might to prevent it from careening backwards down a sheer drop off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a catastrophe that would have been!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guys were covered in sweat and had looks of anxiety on their faces when we returned and we were just so grateful no one had been hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We quickly decided that this was definitely not the land for us, piled back into the SQUIA and began the harrowing drive back down that hill, going straight down in squeaky van with overheated brakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me tell you, we uttered a lot of prayers getting off that mountain!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We parted ways with Evelyn that day and moved back to Steve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just didn't seem like her listings were going to be what we needed and the adventures they offered were just a bit more then we were hoping for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let the search continue!</span><span style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zTbAtxsNpo8/TmuFgJwpDkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/mQ9fJJuKjuM/s1600/Roatan_04+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zTbAtxsNpo8/TmuFgJwpDkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/mQ9fJJuKjuM/s320/Roatan_04+031.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e5Cu9wp6i7Y/TmuF5tjqioI/AAAAAAAAAB8/RY2cFeZ517w/s1600/Roatan_04+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e5Cu9wp6i7Y/TmuF5tjqioI/AAAAAAAAAB8/RY2cFeZ517w/s320/Roatan_04+006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Coxen Hole, Honduras16.3243701 -86.5365357-22.6966279 -146.3021607 55.3453681 -26.7709107tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5462820582232566457.post-50549308741916790522011-08-27T07:49:00.000-06:002011-08-27T07:49:07.685-06:00Bugs, crabs and bats .... I prefer to be underwater!<em>"I don't like spiders and snakes, but that ain't what it takes to love me.." Jim Stafford lyrics</em><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Tom's Take:</strong> My family isn’t real big on bugs, spiders or any kind of crawly thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when you go to the tropics that’s exactly what you get.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except these critters are on steroids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we checked into our island house, my job was to be the first one in our bedroom to “check” for any of these wild creatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>island house on Roatan is not quite what we are used to in the States. They are very nice, but usually a little more rustic and a little less, shall we say, bug proof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After deciding who was assigned which bedrooms, I was given the instructions to “check” the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Check” is translated, "seek out and destroy anything that might make me scream".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In <state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Colorado</place></state>, I am known to be very brave and efficient at this task.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There isn’t a grasshopper, moth, spider or bee that hasn't felt my wrath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife and daughters have been well protected. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I checked the room out and all looked safe to me but I soon discovered --<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>night time is when they come out to party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our first night turned out to be interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were basically in a jungle on the edge of the <place w:st="on">Caribbean</place> ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the sounds of a jungle can really enhance your dreams, provided you can get to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were almond trees over the top of our tin roof dropping almonds all night long - "THUNK, THUNK, THUNK".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fruit bats the size of small eagles landed on the walls and eves of our island house, squeaking and fluttering as they chased insects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this noise, coupled with the urge to get up to use the bathroom from the several Saliva Vida’s (local Beer), kept you from what should have been a peaceful nights sleep in paradise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can get used to the sounds, but my wife can hear a caterpillar peeing on a marshmallow three blocks away, and if <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sandy</city></place> can’t sleep Tom won’t get to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was periodically awakened by her asking “did you hear that”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was asleep, what do you think the answer was? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We went out to dinner most nights and would come back after dark, which was another experience in and of itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crabs come out at night for their own type of party and believe me, they are everywhere! It is very dark at night (no streetlights here) and our house was on stilts because of its proximity to the beach, requiring climbing a flight of stairs to get to the rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were often so many crabs partying on the beach that it looked like the ground was moving and it was difficult to cross from the car door to the stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My job was to blaze a trail to the steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words, clear a path and chase away the crabs so the rest of the gang could dash to the stairs and not land on a crab in the process!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of those crabs had an attitude. They would square up with you on their hind legs with their claws out -- If I had been packing they wouldn’t have been so tough!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'll admit - a few of them were quite intimidating and I found myself giving them an extra wide berth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eventually we would get up the stairs and after all the laughter and commotion, we would settle down to relax and watch Gecko TV (translated:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>watch Geckos eat bugs around the porch light).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was great entertainment - if you haven't tried it, I suggest you give it a whirl next time you're in the tropics!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember one particular evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We headed into our rooms to get ready for bed and <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Sandy</place></city> went into the bathroom before I had the chance to "check" it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out, there was a cockroach in our shower that you could have put a saddle on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the mild heart attack I suffered from <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Sandy</city></place>’s "quiet and calm" discovery of this lovely insect,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went into the shower to take care of this critter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Sandy</place></city>’s discovery of this guy also alerted Jim and Jan's daughter, Beth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me just say it -- this girl is the bravest woman I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She came into our room and offered to take this bug OUT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My back had been bothering me (well, kind of, but okay -- not really. That bug was BIG), so I accepted her assistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a butter knife in hand and came into the bathroom with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I warned her this was no ordinary cockroach, but she wasn’t afraid. She pulled back the shower curtain and just like in the Hitchcock movie Psycho she went after this cockroach with her butter knife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><em>Eeeee Eeee Eeee</em></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She kind of scared me. But the bathroom was safe, and it was comforting to know she was nearby if necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On this particular trip we had more fun and more unusual experiences but we created some of the best memories we'll ever have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn’t have changed a thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except I would have done more diving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that is true for all our trips.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2F4E_3S-VpU/Tlj0yogsbKI/AAAAAAAAABs/i9oNmF_r69g/s1600/RT_JAN04+061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" qaa="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2F4E_3S-VpU/Tlj0yogsbKI/AAAAAAAAABs/i9oNmF_r69g/s320/RT_JAN04+061.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3vwYLd9H2ZY/Tlj1DSxl1lI/AAAAAAAAABw/4O2_SoIctUA/s1600/RT_JAN04+027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" qaa="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3vwYLd9H2ZY/Tlj1DSxl1lI/AAAAAAAAABw/4O2_SoIctUA/s320/RT_JAN04+027.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><em><span style="color: blue;">Travel Tip: Pack Bounce dryer sheets in your suitcase and slide them into your bed at night. Bugs are detracted by their smell and will stay clear of them!</span></em>Sandyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02408372890757955866noreply@blogger.com0Coxen Hole, Honduras16.3243701 -86.5365357-22.6966279 -146.3021607 55.3453681 -26.7709107