Apples, Me and Everything Greek

Winter certainly makes things bare. Here you see the apple orchards near the house now compared to September when I was here last.
The barrels of apples I helped pick months ago have been either consumed or rotted. So, sometimes I get to buy apples from the nice old lady two houses down. I walk up to her door and say something like, "Hi! I mean...Hallo! hmm... um... appels kopen?... voor L'abri... vier kilo... dank je wel.." Which translates into something like "Hi. (gibberish, gibberish) Buy apples?... for L'abri... four kilos... thank you!"And then she carries a further conversation with me in Dutch, except my only contribution to our dialogue is a big smile and a nod. But in the end I have a delicious sack of crisp and juicy, golden and red apples.

I'm getting pretty used to my schedule here at L'abri. I make a lot of tea and coffee, wash and hang a lot of laundry, and scrub a lot of toilets. I drink a lot of tea and coffee and sit around the fireplace to keep warm. I go on a lot of walks with Kara from Portland--we toss around ideas about relationships, culture, and personal shortcomings. I have a stack of books I'm working through and I journal often. I play patty cake with five-year-olds. I bake fresh bread and make soups from scratch. I knit while listening through Henk's vinyl record collection--Simon & Garfunkel's "Sounds of Silence." Michael Jackson's "Bad," and Dutch folk singer Boudewijn de Groot's greatest hits album are currently my favorites. I participate in group lunch discussions, most recently about perfectionism, work, idealism, purity and experiencing God. I do a lot of yoga and push ups in my 7' x 12' bedroom. Here you can see my room and yoga mat.


A vital part of the week is my Monday afternoon tutoring session with Christa. It's helpful to have someone to think with and who can articulate what I often cannot. She listens well and can quickly expose the root of my struggles. She also assigns homework so we have something concrete to work with. Most of what I gain through my experience here will come through these interactions, I am certain.

Last Sunday was Kara's (the other helper from Portland, OR) 27th birthday. The other students and I planned a full day of birthday events including a surprise birthday song at 7:30 a.m., a long bike ride to a surprise tea party, a Greek-themed toga dinner party with Greek music and dancing, Greek food and a pile of gifts for Kara to open. She was overwhelmed with our efforts and remembers it as one of her best birthdays ever. A very special memory for all of us.

The Kolsch Empire

My backpacking journey ended on the 10th of Septmeber in Cologne, Germany. Brandy and I spent four days, two of which were spent at the best hostel EVER, Meininger Hostel. Our reason for stopping in Cologne was to explore some Kolsch history. The German spelling for Cologne is Koln. Our roommate from Hamburg, Germany explained to us that Kolners add the letters SCH to words to identify it as being from Koln. "They do it to everything! It's so annoying," she expressed. Hence, Koln + SCH = Kolsch, meaning "from Koln." Next to the Dom (Cathedral outside central station), most important to Koln culture is their Kolsch beer. So I pretty much told everyone we met that I am a Kolsch. Bless Brandy's heart. She must have been so sick of hearing me boast about my heritage. I thought I'd get some free beer, but it never happened. Surprisingly I only indulged in one beer in those four days in Cologne and I had it mixed with Coke. Very unusual to me, but a popular way to serve beer in Europe. I brought a nasty cold with me from Paris which eliminated most of my alcohol desires. We even spent our third day in bed. So it was Kelley the sick Kolsch and Brandy the pregnant lady. We needed the rest, though before beginning our time at L'abri. I was able to accomplish my dual mission while in Cologne: see the beautiful cathedral and find some Kolsch paraphernalia. I would love to return in good health to have a tour of one of the Kolsch breweries and learn more about the Kolsch way.

Paris

We weren´t sure we´d make it Paris, since it wasn´t on our "top cities to vist" list. Logistically the stop made sense since we were just in Taize, which is 1.5 hours south of Paris. Unfortunately most of the people we met along away told stories of their disapointment with Paris, but we learned after some time that people are idiots and are poor critics. So with little expectation we caught a train to Paris, with no hostel reservation. Though a kind Indian brother at Taize was aware that the pregnant girl and her friend did not have a reservation for their next destination, so he was kind enough to print some listings in Paris for cheap hostels. Fortuanately the first hostel on the list worked out. We had yet another pleasant Aussie roommate and a sweet young Brazilian boy to share our cozy room. My primary goal was to fall in love with Paris. So many people I know seem to do it, so why can´t I? In order to execute this mission we participated in a free walking tour (the same company that gives free tours in Berlin and the very reason we love Berlin so much). The four hour history lesson took us through some monumental sites in Paris like the Notre Dame, the Louvre, and the Eiffel Tower. Though we didn´t really explore any of the sites we were taken to, the brief historical background given by our Mexican-American tour guide allowed us to determine whether the site was worth returning to on our own time. With only one full day in Paris, returning to the sites we were further interested in was not an option. Though I enjoyed our brief time Paris, I did not have a romantic fling with the city as I hoped I would. But I do desire to return in the future for at least a week with a sugar daddy in order to afford the pricey restaurants, lavish boutiques, and an accomodation without mold and multiple foul stinches of smoke and dirt (I received an unpleasant cold while in Paris... still hacking away).

A-a-a-a-lle-lu-i-a

Not even a fully booked train could prevent the three of us from tackling this destination. Summer train fills quickly, so when we were told we couldn´t catch the train to get us to Taizé, which would´ve left us stranded in some wierd French train station overnight, we jumped on it anyhow. Luckily a dining cart onboard gave us a place to hide. So, we just blended in with all of the other passengers who were dining hoping a train attendant wouldn´t find us reservation-less and tag the 50 euro/person penalty. The whole task was actually like taking candy from a baby, though we don´t plan to hop any other trains in the near future.

Let me briefly introduce Taizé as printed in their welcome packet:

Coming to Taizé is an opportunity to seek communion with God through common prayer, singing, personal reflection and sharing. Everyone is here to discover or rediscover a meaning for their life and to find a new vitality. Being in Taizé is also a preparation for taking on reponsibilites at home with a view to being bearers of peace and trust. As you arrive at Taizé, you are welcomed by a community of brothers who have made a lifelong commitment to follow Christ in common life and celibacy, in simplicity of life.

Though some aspects of our time in Taizé felt like a kid´s summer camp, there is a great effort on behalf of the brothers and sisters in residence to encourage families who visit to spend much time together in prayer, studying scripture, playing, preparing meals and cleaning. I would love to return someday with my family. The entire time with the community is a true test of patience, selflessness and gratitude. Luxuries are non-existent, food is served scarcely as army rations would be and work is expected. My favorite times (other than mealtimes) were prayer times. The day begins with morning prayer, midday prayer at 12:20 and evening prayer at 8:30. The church can occupy up to 5,000 worshipers. Not sure how they can fit that many, as the 1,200 present were crammed in. Most sit on the floor or on a wooden kneeler carved and sold by one of the brothers and there are also some benches often occupied by the elderly, the pregnant or crippled. Chanting begins as numbers on a screen light up to indicate which number in the chantbook to follow.

TAIZÉChants are primarily sung in Latin, French, German, English, Spanish, Italian, Russian and Chinese, as the brothers are from all over the world. Throughout the entire service prayers, scriptures and chants are individually recited by brothers in their native language. Beautiful a capella harmonies fill the dimly candlelit room with orange banners stretching from the altar to the highly vaulted cielings. A heavenly experience. The majority of those visiting Taizé while we were there were mostly families and large groups of European Catholics from age 0 to 100, but we made friends from China, Alabama, Indonesia and Guatemala, Protestant and Non. And even the founder of Taizé, Brother Roger, was Protestant. In 2005 he was stabbed by a crazy Rumanian during a prayer service. I can´t imagine being in the building when the event occurred. Once visitors arrive they are asked to make a donation according to whichever region they are from. Those visiting from the States are asked to give between 5,50 and 7,50 euro. Brandy and I didn´t follow the conventional schedule each day, we just participated as we desired as this point in our trip we were very tired and Baby now 7 months. The one day of our four at Taizé that we did help out with work we were asked to welcome the new families arriving from Spain, since we were the only willing guests who knew Spanish. It was definitely a struggle, but we were able to deliver the info the families needed. As well, practice our Spanish. Another day we spent in the prayer, reflection and meditation garden. It´s a huge grassy area on a hill with trees and trails that lead to a small lake, a waterfall and prayer chapel at the foot. Another memorable part of Taizé is the Exposition where brothers make their living by selling handmade ceramics, jewelry, prayer kneelers, paintings, drawings and other art. So, where I saved money on my accomodation, I made up for in the Expo, but the beautiful souveniers will be a great reminder of Taizé. I will also remember the Oyak, the cafe where everything, including beer and wine, are sold at a minimal price. I felt like I was at the Our Savior Fair beer tent, except no Bingo and my bottle of beer was .60 euro cents. God bless the European Christians.

Barcelona (pronounced Barthelona)

When I remember Barcelona I picture a large city, busy yet clean, with big trees scattered throughout the sidewalks. Much like Boston, Brandy says. Though I´ve never seen Boston, I imagine I'd agree with Brandy. I admire the city and I am fascinated by the culture. It was a pleasure to simply roam the streets and observe the Spanish living their lives. I would love to return to Barcelona and when I do I will check out more of Antonio Gaudi´s crazy architecture. We observed some of his works from the street and I think we concluded where the adjective "gaudy" may have stemmed from. Just check out this picture of his Casa Batllo and you may agree.

Our hostel was wonderfully located in a very central, busy and charming area of Barcelona. This mega hostel was great but because of it´s size and number of guests, everything is portioned for the guests-the shower (1 minute at every push of the button), the AC (turns off automatically in the middle of the day), the light in the toilet room (shuts off after 5 minutes), and even the stove (off in 15 minutes). The hostel does offer paid tours for the guests though. One night Brandy and I signed up for the "Tapas & Flamenco Show Night." In actuality, it turned out to be a couple pieces of toast, a 20 minute performance (which was great) followed by a night of bar hopping. The hostel advertises for some local bars and in return they each offer a free shot of something awful like peach schnaps to hostel guests who are brought there on tours. After Brandy drank all of our free shots :) we retired for the evening. A great night, though an unexpected shot of Spanish nightlife.

The next afternoon we set foot for two things: 1. T-mobile, to inquire about a new phone for me and 2. a Mexican burrito with sour cream, one of Brandy´s cravings. Spain is not like the States where a Mexican restuarant can be found on every other block. When we got to the cell phone store it was closed, so we walked to kill some time and what did we stumble upon? A Mexican restaurant! Not the true Mexican portions we are used to, but it was just what the Doctor ordered. We even got festive and decided to wear a costume.

Brandy and I were especially looking forward to our time in Barcelona so we could use our Spanish-speaking abilities. And that we did- though Catalan, similar to Spanish but extremely different, is spoken in Barcelona. So they could understand us, but we couldn´t understand them. They also speak with a terrible lisp, which we refused to take seriously.

PREGO!

Italia, a drastically different culture from our previous stops. The people-their personalities, interactions, appearances. The food-pizza, pasta, wine, unsatisfying sticks of bread, pizza... and pizza. The lifestyles-slower, relaxed, a stronger sense of family value. The towns-tiled roofs, villas of colorful shades of yellow and mauve, winding unparallel streets and paths, olive trees, fig trees, grape vines, rosemary and lavendar bushes everywhere. But what stands out the most to me is the Italian men (mostly security guards and police)-their sarcasm and flirtatious teasing. For instance, when my pocket knife didn't make it throught the metal detector to see Michelangelo's David in Florence, the security accused me of being a terrorist just before they told me I would have to be patted down. I totally took them seriously. Or in Rome, when Brandy asked if she could bypass the metal detectors to protect Lil Baby the security officer asked "Why?! Because you are cute??" Or when I tried to reclaim my knife the second time it was confiscated at a museum the security guard told me he didn't have it. As I began to worry about my knife's location he pulled the knife from a drawer and handed it over while he and his buddy chuckled in their satisfaction of fooling me. These were just a few I can recall off the top of my head. I'm sure I'll remember some funnier ones later. So with all these repetitive instances of being teased by young security officials we were surprised when the security so rudely denied Brandy entrance in to the Vatican because of her spaghetti straps. So, like the solution in a Mentos commercial, I quickly pulled off my pants and Brandy used them as her shawl(Don't worry Mom, I was wearing a long tunic/top). Prego!

So to sum up Italy, we saw some unique cities.

Venice: Just like you'd imagine. A city composed of tiny little islands connected by stinky canals while men in striped T's guided tourists on gondolas. It's become so much a tourist's city that I question the city's character. Though Brandy and I enjoyed getting lost in the streets awaty from the hustle and butstle of the city.


Then there is Florence. We were told of its charm, and I do agree that the town holds something especially unique. But I don't think in the two days we were there we could grasp that. I must say the David was fascinating. It's huge. And its detail and proportions are worth gazing at for hours. Michelangelo is the man.

Rome has so much to see. We stayed three nights which barely allowed us to scratch the surface of the ancient city. Day one was devoted to the Vatican where we saw the Sistine Chapel. Day two, the Colosseum. We saw some other stuff in between. But what I will remember the most is the hostel we stayed in. We reserved a place at the Mona Lisa hostel, but when we arrived they told us our room would not be suitable for a pregnant woman since they had just sprayed pesticides. So these two young girls carried Brandy's bag all the way to their sister hostel, Ivanhoe. We walked into what appeared to be Little Havana. In the common area Latin Music blared and people of Latin and Mid-eastern descent were dancing and lounging around freely, like the massivity of Rome was not enough to occupy their stay. Around 9 p.m. every night the hostel workers offer free drinks, usually a fruity punch made with champagne, wine or vodka, to compliment free hors dourves, which bascially we called free dinner. Then almost every person would eat, drink, listen to loud music, dance and even LIMBO until midnight (they gave me a free beer after I won the limbo contest). At midnight everyone had to go out or go to bed. So of course, being the modest party persons we are, we would always go to bed. Roman night life was in our own hostel. No need to go out! Not to mention the free breakfast in the morning and the free internet. Not too shabby. And it was probably the most diverse group of hostelers one could find. At one of our evening fellowships there were travelers representing Turkey, Sri Lanka, Spain, Peru, Mexico, Canada, Australia, China, Germany, Sweden, and the U.S. all in one small space. Go Ivanhoe!

We saved the best Italian experience for last. Cinque Terre! Five beautiful, quaint towns lying along the Mediterranean coast, all connected by mountainous hiking trails which hugged the shoreline. We stayed at a villa/hostel in Riomaggiore. Our hostel was at the highest point of the town overlooking the coast. Brandy and I also did the hike from Riomaggiore to the 4th town, Vernazza. The last trail to the last city, Monterossa, was a little too difficult for a lady almost 7 months pregnant. So we stopped and took a train back. But I tell you, this place is amazing. And we both hope to return to finish the trail and share experiences with our loved ones. Our top recommendation so far. **** (four stars)

Home Away From Home

Foremost, allow me to apologize on behalf of each blog entry previously and hereafter. Because of ridiculously overpriced internet cafes for travelers I have only budgeted for 15 minutes to write this blog. 15 minutes, 2£, $3.56... RIP OFF. Which means creativity and content will suffer.

So anyhow... This blog is in reference to CROATIA.

Many of you have never heard of it. It's a very well kept cup of beans that is about to spill over... especiall next year when U.S. airlines will offer direct flights. Each year more and more people flock to the exotic beaches of the Dalmatia Coast. As Brandy and I journeyed from country to country meeting travelers, many urged us to commit a few travel days to the ancient Roman beach resort. We heard of the coast's capital, Split, so we purchased an extension train ticket because our $700 multi country Eurail pass doesn't cover Croatia. But the $50 extra bucks was more than worth it.

We showed up in Split with no reservation, but to our good fortune, flocks of locals bombard travelers as soon as they step off trains, boats and planes to offer "accomodation!" One Croatian woman even said to us in broken English "Hello, my name is Room, would like me?" After accepting the offer of an old man to follow him along with 2 Australian gals and 2 Asian gals to see his place, we waited in his home for two hours while he disappeared to round up more travelers and then finally returned to tell us "I have no rooms." This all worked out to our benefit because when we left a sweet young college lad named Baldo invited us to come stay in his tidy apartment for less money and in a prime location: the Diocletian Palace, the center of the town in the very palace where the 13th century Roman Emperor used to spend days bathing in the summer sun when not persecuting Christians.

After one day in Split we jumped on a bus to find the hostel we reserved ahead of time. The hostel, Villa Sanja, was situated in a "nearby" town called Lokva Rogoznica, which actually was an hour drive through winding mountains. Baldo informed us that in Lokva Rogoznica we would not have fun, but we'd relax. And that is just what we did. Our $19 a night hostel was steps from the pebble beaches and the mountains were our backdrop. We even had a private room with a balcony overlooking the Adriatic Sea. Pure brilliance. We couldn't have asked for a better place.
The local seafood, impeccably fresh. The people, incredibly friendly. And the weather, perfect. We even had a few adventures. One morning we woke up to a commotion near the beach. A man had driven his Mercedes off the side of the road, riding the side rail 25 feet before taking a 75 foot dive down the side of the cliff and landed on the shoreline. He walked away untouched. A miracle. Another night we had a lovely dinner at a restuarant about one mile down the windy mountain road. When we asked our waitress what time the last bus came, she informed us that we missed it and she commanded us, "My brother will take you home." No questions asked, her brother Marco, who was also a waiter, hopped in his car and picked us up in front of the restaurant to take us back to the hostel. But first he picked up two dozen freshly baked donuts at the local bakery, which of course he offered us. And of course, we accepted one.

Just a few details of the fully relaxed 5 day stay in beautiful Croatia. In two years they will join the EU, so plan your trip to Croatia before then.

OFF to ITALIA!!!

CIAO :)