HollyTyson

Elkaduwa Getaway

2011-03-28T02:44:00.000-07:00

"We're going to Elkaduwa this weekend, so pack your bags and let's go!" Dylan said on the phone to my friends and me. Dylan Perera is a talented young Sri Lankan musician whose group of friends I call family here.

I looked on the map to see where Elkaduwa is located, and found it in tiny print just north of Kandy in the central highlands of Sri Lanka. We packed our bags and headed to the bus depot, not knowing what was in store.

Dylan and a couple of his friends had been to Elkaduwa a couple times before, escaping to the cool hills, getting far, far away from the working world of Colombo that many young and frustrated people know and abhor. As Dylan said, "It's nice not to be harassed by cops or smell urine for a little while." But getting there, getting anywhere by '3rd class' public transit, is an extension of Colombo's perspiration-enducing claustrophobia, making one's arrival even more of a sweet reward.

We climbed into one of many squeaky, busted buses going to Kandy, beginning our clamoring, chaotic journey of many hours to Elkaduwa. Once we arrived in Kandy 3 hours later, we got onto another local bus to where it terminated further into the hills, and from there, in the dark hours of early nightfall, we began bartering with three-wheelers to get us up to the Elkaduwa Estate. Six of us piled into one three-wheeler and held on tight as we bounced through pock-marked roads, climbing higher and higher into the starry night. The three-wheeler dropped us at the entrance to the estate, but in the morning we would come to learn that he had really dropped us much before he should have. Let's just say it's hard knowing exactly what's happening when you're fumbling around in the dark in a new place...

We walked up concrete roads and along rocky footpaths for about an hour, guided clumsily by two flashlights amongst us, alternating between staring closely at the terrain and admiring the view of the stars above us, a rare treat for this urban gang. The fresh air helped us forge ahead, and finally we arrived at the Elkaduwa Estate entrance, where two men kept guard throughout the night.

Dylan, who had met these guys before on his previous trips, arranged our lakeside hut for the night. One of the workers, Lechema, walked us to his humble abode, where he woke his wife to make us a hot cup of tea and lend us an extra blanket. I felt so badly that we were disturbing this family who already toils all day long to make ends meet, but my friends assured me that this hospitality, this humble welcoming with tea and warm smiles, is assuredly intrinsic--even at midnight.

Lechema and his trusty mutt guided us up the estate through more irrigation ditches and footpaths to the lakeside hut which would be our home for the night. The sliver of the moon and a thousand stars reflected off the lake, showing us the outline of what splendor we would awake in the morning to find at our feet.

After listening to the tunes of Imaad and Dylan for a couple hours, I could hardly sleep with the cold air nipping at me on top of the chilly concrete slab, a full 180 degree change from the sweaty, clingy nights of Colombo. Of course, all five boys didn't seem bothered, snoring away after enjoying a couple arrack and Cokes. I think I finally got to sleep right after the sun came up and lit the lake on fire with an orange glow; I could now see the lake and the low forest behind it, flanked on one side by a steep hill of manicured tea. This dream was real.

The next morning, we woke to the sounds of birds chirping and leeches sucking. EWWW, leeches! Poor Danny had a small pool of blood laying at his feet, small holes on his ankle showing where the blood sucker had been the night before. The boys had warned me against the leeches, but like they warn me against everything and anything, real and imagined, I didn't know whether to believe them or not. The rust-colored stain on the thin mattress showed that they were indeed serious.

A couple of the boys made fishing poles and began digging for worms as bait. They managed to catch a couple small fish, but our breakfast consisted of tea and noodles courtesy of Lechema, who informed us that more guests were coming soon to use the 'cabin' and we needed to get ready to leave. It felt as though we had just arrived, and already we had to leave this magical place.

Now in full daylight, our walk through the Elkaduwa Estate illuminated what we did not see in the night: the rows upon rows of tea bushes being tended by Tamil ladies, and a dramatic rise and fall of the rocky landscape, and small villages where children played and washed clothes in the river. After hours of delightfully descending the hills we had climbed so cluelessly in the dark, we dragged our feet as we returned to Kandy and finally, Colombo.

The Elkaduwa Estate has been supported by CIDA, the Canadian International Development Agency.

The Elkaduwa Estate once maintained its own tea factory for drying, fermenting and processing the tea leaves, but now the building stands unused and eerie-looking, almost reminiscent of a Nazi concentration camp train station. The haunted and abandoned look, garnished by weathered barbed wire, stands in contrast with the cheery upkeep of the landscaping surrounding the edifice.

I awoke to find this reflection of tranquility at my feet.

Susa and his homeboys brought in a selection of guppies, a sure feast for Lechema's family when smothered in curry!

Tamil women picking tea leaves at Elkaduwa Estate.

Care for a swing in the sea of tea?

The small building to the far left is where we slept for the night, lapped by the lake's tiny waves and cradled by the pine-dense valley facing us.

The grounds near the sleeping cabin were nicely planted with ornamental flowers and native species.

This is another example of the housing which accomodates the tea plantation workers, sometimes called line housing because of its linear model, housing many families in often very cramped conditions. Over the years, many tea workers have addressed some of their working and living conditions, being represented by workers unions and steadfast agricultural rights groups. There is still much work to be done in securing this vital but vulnerable group of workers their due compensation and dignity.

There are marvelous rocks that suddenly jut out of the crafted, contoured landscape, like a hiccup in the monoculture of tea. The light green leaves at the top of the tea bush are what is harvested for making tea.

Imaad, Lechema, Susa, Dylan, yours truly, and Danny, striking a pose before we leave Elkaduwa Estate.

And so we journeyed on, over the hills and through the tea...

Hill Country, Part III

2011-03-16T00:01:00.000-07:00

Welcome back to Hill Country, Sri Lanka! In this post, I will show you some photos from our walk through the Dambatenne Tea Factory and its surrounding growing areas, located near Haputale and its misty environs.

The Dambatenne tea plantation was founded by Sir Thomas Lipton of the world known Lipton tea brand back in 1890. Here, he began his tea cultivating empire in order to satisfy the likes of Scotland, his home country, and England. The hills of Sri Lanka were converted from rubber and coffee to tea when the British overcame the Dutch rule of Sri Lanka in 1815. At this time, there were many Tamil Indians 'imported' to labor on the tea plantations, giving them the distinct cultural category of "Plantation Tamils". To this day, you will see that the little villages within and surrounding the tea plantations are made up of Tamils. The history of how the British intentionally used a non-native labor force, one that was eager to work and was willing to cede to the British ways, was strategic and manipulative. Yeah, that sounds about right, given the capitalist and racially charged nature of colonialism...

To walk around the rugged tea plantations is like a dream... the temperatures are cool, the sun is a welcome presence, and the Tamil workers peer back at me with the same curiosity with which I gaze at them. It is almost exclusively women who do the picking, placing handfuls of young, bright green tea leaves into sacks balanced across their foreheads and slung down their backs.

A typical view of the tea growing regions that define the Hill Country landscape. While this 'green cover' helps the Sri Lankan government spout environmentally-sound statistics to people like me, it is still, in large, a mono culture; over one hundred years ago, the suddus, or white people, chopped down countless acres of virgin forest to attain this manicured, yet admittedly stunning, cultivation technique. Some ecologically-conscious growers have managed to integrate other species into the tea bushes and preserve any adjacent stubs of remaining forest cover, while others have preferred to prioritize profits over sustainability.

Welcome to the Dambatenne plantation!

All of those tiny white pock marks on the upper left corner represent the bags, full of freshly picked tea leaves, that adorn the sweat-soaked and sari-clad backs of the Tamil women. This woman is walking down the irrigation ditch, the most common walkway you'll find here, between the rows and rows of bushes.

Women chat amongst themselves and shyly smile when we pass.

The amount that these women are paid is dependent on the amount that they pick. For most workers, this amounts to less than $2/day, providing them with barely enough money to survive. Most workers live on the plantations where they work in very basic housing structures, and are permitted to tend a small tract of land for their own consumption or for market.

When the women fill one or two bags, they walk to the nearest weighing station to have their product weighed. Here, the men are wrestling to weigh the incoming product.

Once weighed, the bags of tea are transported to the factory for processing.

Most of the plantation Tamils are Hindu, and you can find many kovils, or Hindu temples, throughout the region, each with its own distinct tribute to a particular god or goddess. Large and important trees, some along waterways, are also used as sites of worship for the workers. It's hard to see in this photo, but this large tree has many pieces of faded fabric tied to its trunk and lower limbs, as well as stripes of color painted at its base. Small weathered figurines depicting gods and goddesses are laid at the foot of the tree, and remnants of pooja, or offerings, remain in the form of spent incense sticks or clay bowls of oil, their wicks extinguished.

The irrigation ditches are quite a marvel even now, and help control the flow of rain and the footsteps of weary workers.

Along the path, we spot some calendula growing.

Taking in the scenery on top of Lipton's Seat, the vantage point from which Sir Thomas Lipton surveyed his regional tea-growing empire.

We decided to tour the Dambatenne Tea Factory, located at the foothills of the plantation.

The large floor-to-ceiling windows that characterize the multi-storied tea factories help circulate fresh air into these stuffy, metal hot boxes.

The tea dumped out and piled high upon arrival from the fields.

The tea leaves are heated up and dried out for 8 hours on these long heating units.

Another shot of the heating and drying process. You can also see how the windows to the right are utilized for air circulation.

In the event of a fire, don't fret: they are equipped with an arsenal of protection, including 7 buckets of water and two extinguishers. Phew!

After the tea is somewhat dried and turning brown, the leaves go through several stages of cutting and sorting on a series of conveyor belts racing through the ground level of the factory.

The tea is ground up further and is then piled on the floor and allowed to ferment for several hours.

Our guide shows us the difference that just 3 hours of fermentation can make! Yeah fermentation!

After fermentation, the tea is sorted again, tasted and then classified into a variety of grades, shown here by our guide. Sadly, as in many exporting countries, the best of the product is never left for the locals--all the best stuff is sold abroad and Sri Lankans get the remaining dust for their own tea.

I would like to end this post with one final image, one of total peace, the ideal aim of our local and global communities. This diagram was painted on one of the schools that we passed while walking through the Dambatenne plantation (schools are host to the best artwork and philanthropy I have seen in Sri Lanka). After all the suffering that Sri Lankans of all sorts have endured over the centuries, I just hope this total peace will soon come to this land and its people.

Hill Country, Part II

2011-03-15T03:46:00.000-07:00

We left Ella and made our way by bus to Badulla, another populous town in Hill Country.

Throughout the island of Sri Lanka, there are hundreds of staggering waterfalls flowing from the abundant water supply in the mountainous region. We decided to venture to Dunhinda Falls, one of the country's most famous waterfalls, close by to Badulla.

During the one hour walk to the falls, we remarked at the mossy rock faces and the dwarfing scale of the trees around us, such as the photo above tries to impart.

As we approached the waterfall, there were several rickety huts along the slippery walkway selling fruit juices and fried snacks, an enterprise popular with thirsty hikers and crafty monkeys alike. After observing monkeys in all parts of the world, especially Asia, I still don't know why we, humans, are the apes in charge. Cunning and patient, monkeys are just remarkable to watch--from a safe distance, of course. You can see one of the band of monkeys sitting on a rock in the photo above, but there are many others camouflaged throughout this scene.

Behold: Dunhinda Falls! This photo feels so lame, like it just mocks the majesty of the water and the crushing effects of its fall.

One special monkey came down to take in the view with us... He seems so contemplative, looking down and out beyond the pool of the waterfall, meditating perhaps on his next snack?

I was asked to bring back a monkey for my friend Tim; I hope this exhibitionist one will do.

This is like a scene from Indiana Jones, only there weren't any crocodiles below and we had a alternate route, saving us the splintered experience of crossing this old bridge.

We stayed in a simple guest house in Badulla for the night, but found our view to be quite trashy. This is a photo taken from the balcony of our room, overlooking what is now the city dump. The property across the way used to be, and partially still is, the municipal pool and cricket playing fields. Now, it has been turned into the area's trash heap, with a token shantytown of shacks outlaying the operation. We would get a waft of this fuming waste every now and again, and could only imagine what daily living here would be like. We all felt really bad for the owner of the guest house, as this has and will forever impact his business' success.

Waste is one of the most indicative factors in a society's development--even the sheer notion of waste creation and 'disposal'. In Sri Lankan urban areas, there is litter everywhere, even on the beaches, but alternately, the heaps of concentrated trash like the one above also don't serve the environment well at all. How much waste do we generate as a society, East and West? Certainly, in the West we consume more and thus can generate more trash, but we also have technology, infrastructure, and (attempts at) education to combat and even inverse this concept of 'waste', for example with recycling processes and composting techniques.

After Badulla, we headed off to Haputale, the last stop on this mini expedition to Hill Country... stay tuned for that final installment coming soon!

In the meantime, I am just returned from a weekend trip to Elkaduwa, a serene tea growing village north of Kandy. If you'd like to view those photos, please click HERE.

Hill Country, Part I

2011-03-08T01:54:00.000-08:00

Wanting to trade the urban heat effect of Colombo for the cool and picturesque hills of Hill Country in the middle of Sri Lanka, Susa, Imaad and I took an early morning train from Colombo's Fort Train Station to Ella, a small town meaning 'awesome' in Sinhala, known for its beautiful peaks and lush scenery. We could only manage to get tickets for 3rd class 'seats', which meant standing for the first hour and a half until enough people got off.

The train is an old, rickety set of coaches that certainly dates back to the British rule here prior to 1948. The ride is very bumpy and you have to hold onto the rails for dear life if you plan to get up or move around. I am always amazed at the simple but finely executed skills that so many lay people possess here, such as being able to not only deftly handle oneself while walking around the train, but also to carry a hot tank of tea, pour it, take bills and coins for payment, and return accurate change. This sounds simple but after you encounter the violent tossing and churning of the trains here, especially when the train is packed with people and children and their bags, you'll understand that this is no easy feat.

This kid and his friends were trying to impress us with their dangerous acrobatics routine of hanging out of the moving train. Don't try this at home, for sure. At times, I couldn't watch I was so nervous for their safety...

The train chugged along, spewing black thick smoke and churning out food vendor after drink vendor, men walking down the narrow aisles and passing baskets through open windows at station stops, each hawker selling something more delicious than the next. We enjoyed the increasingly breathtaking landscape unfold as the climate peeled off layers of sticky heat and the altitude began to climb. Imaad broke out his acoustic guitar as soon as we had enough room, and brought smiles to many as he sang and we passed the time gazing out the windows. After about 9 hours on the train, our butts ached and we were glad to exit at the last stop on the line: Ella.

Imaad at work, rocking out on the train.

The train weaves through the mountainous countryside, with rows of tea and tall trees flanking the sides.

Enjoying a cup of hot Ceylon tea in its place of origin!

We got off the train and looked around us. Although it was beginning to mist and already dark out, what we did look around to find was a bit surprising; my two friends were the only Sri Lankans disembarking--everyone else was white. Because we were traveling 3rd class with only Sri Lankans, we didn't notice all the foreigners on board. Little did we know that we were surrounded by other tourists, also beckoning to the Lonely Planet call to Ella. Susa and Imaad had visited Ella before in the year, but had not experienced the heavy influence of the tourism dollar and its double-edged sword. Let's just say we found it impossible to get a reasonable deal in Ella and felt like finding a more non-touristy spot, so we decided to spend one night only and head on to Badulla, a neighboring town, the next day.

Here are some highlights from Ella:

Welcome to Ella!

This is what they were talking about with that whole gorgeous scenery thing...

A woman and her grandchild walking through the tea plantations in Ella.

This man sold jewelry made from dried seeds, and was nice enough to draw us a map in the sand directing us to Little Adam's Peak. Adam's Peak is a very holy pilgrimage site for all religions in Sri Lanka, a tall and pointed mountain I plan to climb when my friends Rob and Noel come in April. Ella has designated one of their mountains as Little Adam's Peak--gaining more traction from the notoriety of the namesake than any other major resemblance between the two. All in all, it was a refreshing walk with nothing but green, lush views all around.

The rather tenement housing afforded to the tea plantation workers here on Little Adam's Peak in Ella. This photo mostly highlights the crude pieces of corrugated metal often used to shelter the poor here in Sri Lanka and the world over.

Terraced agriculture in Ella, a view from Little Adam's Peak.

We chatted with this tiny but strong man at the top of Little Adam's Peak, discussing his cows and the grass he was collecting for them, the tea-picking work of his wife, and the difficulty of balancing low wages with rising costs. He said their family income is not enough for even the basics at times, as he just recently sold a gold ring in order to buy school supplies for his kids. Even though we left before his grass cutting was finished, he still managed to catch up to us at the bottom of the mountain.

Imaad was asked to stage an impromptu concert while we descended Little Adam's Peak. Being from a Tamil-speaking family, Imaad performed a Tamil language song along with a couple other tunes, all of which these folks thoroughly enjoyed hearing.

Local elections are slated to occur this March 17, so posters, banners and garlands of colored plastic like these above are popping up everywhere.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Hill Country--coming soon!

Settling into Sri Lanka

2011-02-27T21:43:00.000-08:00

With two weeks under my sarong here in Sri Lanka, I am settling in quite nicely. Well enough, apparently, to have absorbed the sluggish nature resulting from the potent heat of Colombo. It's about 90 degrees Fahrenheit, but with the sun and the humid beach air, the heat feels like I am sporting a dewy, wool sweater in a sauna. And to think it's gonna get worse in my three months here, with April being the hottest month of the year! The climate of Sri Lanka is definitely one of the first senses to be overwhelmed...others to come shortly thereafter.

Before I post photos directly on the blog, you can visit this website and view my Facebook photos without signing in as a member, I hope.

Since landing, my Sri Lanka home base has been at the Majeed home in the Colombo suburb of Ratmalana, just south of the city proper and a bit inland from the beachfront. Imaad and his younger brother Sharkir are my most gracious hosts here, having welcomed me into their family's home as a "machung" or good friend. I met Imaad through Susantha, or "Susa", a dear friend of mine from my last trip to Sri Lanka in 2009. Susa arranged for me to stay here in the Majeed household, providing me a true and ideal set-up for my time here.

The Majeed family is pretty open to the West; the family has been involved in politics for two generations and they speak mostly English at home (much like many of my friends here), and many of the four kids were educated in Western schools. Imaad's father is a district politician in the family's hometown of Samanthurai, located on the other side of the country in the largely Tamil-dominated Eastern province. As such, his family, including his maternal grandfather who was himself a successful politician, is primarily located out east, leaving this spacious home unoccupied for most of the year. The home has gardens in the front and back, and provides a relaxing home base and kitchen from which to explore Colombo, the rest of the country, and Sri Lankan cooking. We even have a cat, a tiny black stray that the brothers adopted last year. His name, "!xchte", is more a click language sound than a word.

I have enjoyed reading some of the Majeed family's household literature, covering topics like "Performing the Hajj" (the Muslim pilgrimage) and "An Introduction to Sri Lankan Parliament", as well as the novels, Swimming in the Monsoon Sea by Shyam Selvadurai, and Colombo by Carl Muller. I have sought out more novels written by the latter authors from a local used book store, as I have consumed their works voraciously since arriving and would highly recommend them to anyone interested in Colombo or Sri Lankan culture. This great reading material, combined with regular outings by bus and three-wheeler (or tri-shaw) to the shops, the market, the beach, temples of all sorts, and various Colombo sights and attractions, have allowed me to better absorb the pace of actually living here versus visiting here.

Colombo is the largest city of Sri Lanka and home to about 650,000 people. Colombo itself is divided into 15 neighborhoods, all of which I am exploring with great distinction. They really showcase the diversity of this city and this country. Sri Lanka was occupied by the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the British, finally gaining independence in 1948. Sri Lankans are mostly Buddhist, with a large percentage of the remaining population being Hindu Tamils and Muslims, followed in numbers by a small community of Christians. The scene in Colombo is quite typical of a South Asian capital city, full of class differences and the inequalities that brings in housing, education, transportation, food choices, health care access, job opportunities, etc., with extremes of modern and ancient, opulent and destitute, sacred and vilified often next door to one another. There is always something to witness and learn in such places where the mundane can be both inspiring and completely inhumane.

Some of the most notable sights and experiences in Colombo have been:

1. Gangaramaya Perahera, two nights of traditional dancing, music, and elephant parading through the Fort district of Colombo to the Gangaramaya Buddhist Temple. Imagine a Buddhist Mummers Parade with sari-clad ladies playing sticks to the rhythm of fire dancers and sequined elephants--as opposed to tipsy Philadelphians in feathers trying to be animals while playing instruments. We lined up along the roads and watched the procession for hours. I even got to try Sri Lanka cotton candy, called bombay muttai.

2. Talking politics with Naoshaad Majeed, the father and very part time resident of the household where I live. A former Member of Parliament with the United National Party, Naoshaad has traveled around the world, studying past conflicts to help him better understand Sri Lanka's own civil war, a war that gripped the nation for nearly 30 years, claiming the lives of ~70,000 people. Naoshaad eventually came to realize that every local problem needs a local solution, so began cultivating Sri Lanka's 'peace process' domestically. He is a very interesting and approachable man, much like his sons, and I look forward to speaking with him at greater length when we visit him in his home district, out east, in a week or so.

3. Listening to Imaad and his friends play original and cover music, harmonizing together with their guitars and percussive beats. Imaad is also a poet and blogger. Click HERE to learn more about Imaad and his recent music. I think you can also look him up on Wordpress blog site under St. Fallen.

4. Running errands, hanging with locals, and becoming better acquainted with people, places, and neighborhoods. Learning a couple more Sinhalese phrases to illicit more smiles from locals, impressing them beyond belief that I am trying to speak their primary language (Sri Lanka has three official languages, Sinhalese, aka Sinhala, Tamil and English).

5. Trying to understand the game of cricket by watching match after bloody match of the 2011 World Cup, which is presently hosted here in Sri Lanka and across the way in India. Let's just say arrack, a local coconut spirit, mixed with Elephant Ginger Beer, makes Holly a much more willing student.

6. Buying fresh, local ingredients to prepare curries, curd fruit smoothies, fried rice dishes, and the perfect cup of Ceylon tea (often with ginger and a ton of sugar). Just like we have many kinds of apples and mushrooms in Pennsylvania, so do Sri Lankans have a variety of their own homegrown specialties, including coconuts, bananas, curry spices, and cookies, of course. My home here is right down the road from one of Sri Lanka's most famous cookie and biscuit companies, called Maliban. I originally pronounced it like it rhymed with Taliban, and now everyone here makes fun of me and calls it the Taliban cookie factory. Mmmm, it smells so good here somedays when the wind is just right and the baking is on!

I really enjoy making simple observations through daily living in Ratmalana. Ratmalana is a middle class suburb of Colombo and is about a forty-five minutes' bus ride from the big city. The Colombo domestic airport is located a couple miles away and the Air Force headquarters is even closer. We hear the helicopters, stunt and fighter planes fly by from time to time, as the Air Force is about to celebrate their 60th Anniversary with a giant week-long spectacle for the public. The local streets are decorated in colorful flags for the event, with Christmas-like lights hung along the fortified cinder block compound, lights adorning barbed wire walls, and a banner across the thoroughfare, occasionally bringing all traffic to a stop given its low clearance.

This amusing traffic hold up has made me stop and stare on multiple occasions in the last week, as all forms of transport clamor to escape the burgeoning tide of exhaust fumes, the cacophony of horns, and the flaring impatience at the Air Force's oversight of this poorly situated banner. Perhaps they are so accustomed to being in the air, that they forget the clearance height required by land travel. However civilized a society, all rules of good conduct break away when it comes to driving...especially in Asia, where traffic rules are far more suggested and organic, with each bus, three-wheeler, motorcycle, pedestrian and meandering cow left to its own devices and laws of gravity, producing one of the most miraculous, and largely accident-free, ebb and flow dynamics of modern times. It truly is a lesson in cultivating awareness, because otherwise you're as flat as roti on the road.

I have lots more to share about the daily observations on life here in Sri Lanka, but in this moment, a fresh juice smoothie of avocado, papaya, banana, lime, sugar, and just-delivered-by-bicycle curd calls... thankfully without the sonic boom entrails of the jet that just underlined the haze above our heads.

Next week, I'll tell you about my recent trip to the Hill Country, where the famous Ceylon tea is grown. In the meantime, my thoughts go out to those insisting on justice throughout the Middle East. Inshallah, they will get it peacefully and genuinely.

Egypt's Revolution will be Televised

2011-02-17T02:26:00.000-08:00

Ayubowan and Salaam Alykum, friends!

I am writing from hot and sunny Colombo, Sri Lanka, on a Poya Day, the full moon holiday that Sri Lankans observe 13 times a year. May God/Allah, Lord Buddha, Shiva, Krishna and Ganesh...all bless this nation that celebrates more holidays than any other country on Earth. Yesterday, we observed the Prophet Mohammed's birthday, so that's two holidays back to back, shortly before a weekend. Not bad.

Just to update you on my previous trip to Egypt, it was oddly uneventful considering my family and I were in the midst of a nation's social uprising. My mother, brother and I left for Egypt on January 27, just two days after the protests began in Cairo. Once we arrived in Hurghada, a resort town on the Red Sea known as the Red Sea Riviera, our factual and feisty Egyptian tour director, Karima, began to get nervous about the likelihood of us moving forward, meaning northwards, to the big sights we were in Egypt to see. We had originally been scheduled to stay at the resort for two nights, but that figure turned into 5 nights, as all historic sites began closing and a cessation of normal life had eclipsed the country. Karima said she was working on securing our group on the next flight out of Hurghada, and subsequently, the next flight out of Cairo. Through her tireless logistical nightmares, she confessed to us: "Though I love my job and wished to have shared with you the sites of Egypt that I love, my desire is to be counted among my people in Tahrir Square and have my voice be heard."

So, we certainly made the best of it, relaxing on the beach, snorkeling, and enjoying the view of the Red Sea and the desert mountains just to the south. We watched BBC and CNN like junkies from our hotel rooms; even though we were in Egypt, we had no real way of getting information except the television. I would ask the waiters, the gift shop employees, and especially our outspoken tour guide and Egyptologist--what is your take on the masses gathered in Tahrir Square and the message of reform that they carry? Overwhelmingly, people echoed the sentiments of those in Cairo, Suez and Alexandria, demanding that Mubarak must go.

By the time Karima could swindle any tentative seats on any outgoing flights available, we spent an entire day getting to Cairo through several domestic flights, and left for New York the next morning. The Cairo International Airport was a zoo: frantic Egyptian families with many belongings waiting in long lines alongside frusterated tourists with almost the same amount of luggage. We left on the last day of the evacuation of foreigners, February 2, with Katie Couric leading the charge home from her 1st Class seat on our flight.

I am happy to report that as of February 11, this is history in the making and the calls of the people have been heard. President Mubarak has resigned and thus a new era has begun! I just hope that Egypt's people will elect someone who can fulfill their needs--the human needs we all have.

Scroll down to see Thailand/Habitat for Humanity photos

2010-05-21T06:21:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone!

Long time, no blog, eh? Sorry about the wait, but I have my Thailand photos posted from my volunteer home build with Habitat for Humanity. Please scroll down past the most recent Sri Lanka post and you can find the Thai photos there. Enjoy!

Peace and love from Kennett Square, PA,
Holly

A Few Found Photos of Sri Lanka...

2010-01-20T19:57:00.000-08:00

I suppose I am reluctant to show my blog audience the few shabby photos I managed to capture of Sri Lanka before I broke my camera, simply because they don't do justice to the vivid colors and characters I went on to endear myself to during my all-too brief 1 1/2 week stay on this amazing island. I will, however, concede to showcasing but a few, only if you think of them as a meager holdover until I get back to Sri Lanka at the end of 2010!

These photos were taken around Dehiwala and Mt. Lavinia, two smaller cities connected to the capital city of Colombo where I stayed along the beach for about one week. Sadly, I have absolutely no photos to show from my breath-taking experience in Nuwara Eliya, the tropical, mountainous heartland of the island which I described briefly in a previous post. Enjoy!

Local fishing on a rock off of Mt. Lavinia beach. I often soaked in this view, especially during sunsets and when the boats were out at night, like little floating lights on the black horizon.

Fishing boats along the Dehiwala and Mt. Lavinia shores outside of Colombo, the national capital. Many of the poorer residents in this area live in huts along the beach, tending to their boats, nets, and children as assuredly as the waves lap the shores.

Mt. Lavinia Hotel, a royal vestige from the British occupation. This hotel is one of the nicest in the whole country, and was decked out for the Christmas holidays just as I was leaving. With my Sri Lankan cohorts, I ventured poolside to get a glimpse of the luxury afforded to foreign tourists, only to feel completely out of place while sipping our outrageously overpriced beers. I received the most flattering comment when my Sri Lankan friend Daniel told me: "Don't worry Holly, you are more like us Sri Lankans than the tourists." Hooray! I AM in with the locals!

Green!

Straddled between the railroad and the endless stretch of beach are the poor fisherman families, whose eardrums oscillate between the lulling sounds of the Indian Ocean and the harsh mechanics of the train. These peoples' homes were destroyed by the tsunami in 2004, and have been rebuilt using the remnants of that natural disaster and other found objects, since the government has offered little to no assistance. Again, the poorest people I encountered were always the ones most willing to share their homes, their tea, and their meals with me: the truest and highest honor I could imagine.

At the mere mention of wanting fresh coconut water to drink, I witnessed the father of this family climb to the top of their tree and cut me loose a green fruit. He then used his machete to slice open a small opening in the coconut where I drank from, and later carved out a spoon so I could scrape the insides for the young, sweet meat. Such resourcefulness!

Clearly, or not so clearly, you can see that this photo was taken after I dropped and successfully broke my camera. As was commonplace amongst Susa's friends, we were graciously invited to eat dinner with "dancing" Ranga and his wife, who dressed me in one of her saris between giggles and atop tippy toes before the meal. Pictured above is Susa and me in their family room--but what you don't see is the extended family gathered around the doorway, unsure of what to make of the giant white woman in their native wares.

Brick by Brick in Thailand

2010-01-14T21:12:00.000-08:00

[*This second-to-last trip blog post comes insanely late, nearly 6 months after I returned from my trip around the world. So sorry, but better late than never!*]

December 5, 2009:
Goodbye Sri Lanka, Hello Thailand!

The final chapters of the story of my most amazing trip bring us back to Sri Lanka: it was so difficult leaving such a beautiful place, with such lovely people and sights to see, but I knew I had a mission ahead in Chiang Mai, Thailand. I stayed for as long as humanly possible in Sri Lanka until boarding a midnight flight to Chiang Mai via Bangkok. Bohome stuti, Sri Lanka!

In Chiang Mai, Northern Thailand, I was greeted by the local Habitat for Humanity staff at the medium-sized airport in the comfortably balmy tropical weather. From my time in Thailand in 2003 with Semester at Sea, I remembered a country full of cheery people--hence the nickname "the land of smiles"--and wicked tasty chow. Since becoming sick in India off of tainted curry just weeks before, I had begun craving Thai food as my favorite food to top the once favored Indian cuisine. Let's just say that by the time our international, but mostly American, team of Habitat volunteers coalesced in Chiang Mai, we were on our way to a culinary feast of Thailand's delicious offerings.

The next two weeks afforded me luxuries that I had not had for months at this point: a consistent place to sleep and shower (!) for two weeks, a hotel pool, three square meals a day and water breaks, snacks, transportation and activities planned by someone else, and a fast friend network of teammates committed to building a home for a family in need in an entirely different culture. Never had my trip been so easy as it was now in the hands of a young Thai woman named Nina whose job it was to coordinate the builds and international teams coming into northern Thailand. Her spirit captured perfectly the cheery and can-do Thai attitude of the 21st century, as did the congeniality of her Thai colleagues with whom we toiled in the toasty Thai sun for about two weeks in early December.

I hope you enjoy looking at the progress we made in building the start of a home for a family of four in a rural community outside of Chiang Mai, Thailand. I would highly recommend the Habitat for Humanity Global Village program for anyone with an interest in doing humanitarian construction abroad.

Starting things off with a roof and a layout for the foundation in rural Sheng Doi, Chiang Mai, Thailand with the local and international Habitat for Humanity worker bees. Our volunteers consisted of mostly Americans, with a couple Canadians in hiding and one Aussie!

My great Australian friend Cana and I during a regularly-scheduled water break. Habitat for Humanity was pretty hardcore about keeping us hydrated and safe throughout the day.

Shovels resting in a row after a hard day's work of mixing cement for the foundation of the home.

Val and Scott reading some Thai materials and me flexing!

The Thai people LOVE their King, the longest empowered ruler currently alive. We were working in Thailand during the King's 82nd birthday celebration, a national holiday and reason for these golden Bodhi leaf mobiles in the streets and celebratory markers throughout the country.

Another public demonstration of affection for His Majesty the King on his 82nd Birthday.

Letting go of paper lanterns filled with candles and some sort of gas. It's so magical watching them all float in the air! We did this on two occasions, once after dinner on a workday and once at our goodbye dinner.

I adore this little Buddha figure photographed at the local Buddhist temple near our home family's work site. His face and the wearings on his body make him look wiser.

Buddhist stupas at a Buddhist temple in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

Dragons adorning the local Buddhist temple.

Saffron-colored robes are the common sight in Buddhist Thailand. This is one of many Buddhist temples in an older area of Chiang Mai city.

During one of our 'touring' days when we got to go on an outing, we stopped for lunch at this amazing orchid farm and restaurant. Rows and rows of breath-taking (and breath-restoring) orchids blossomed everywhere, to say nothing of the fabulous Thai buffet (= paradise!).

AH! Orchid farm antics...

Eating a salty cuttle fish from the night market in Chiang Mai.

My friends Yee and Cana and I shopped for a variety of insects at the night market in Chiang Mai, city center. Ah, grasshopper. We also ate other treats like grub, beetle, and cricket. YUMMY!

Jimmy Carter Work Project for 2010 in Chiang Mai, Thailand, in celebration of the King's 82nd birthday. Habitat for Humanity volunteers, including some celebrities and Jimmy and wife Rosalyn Carter, spent 4 days building these 82 basic houses in a mango plantation outside the city center. The housing development includes a beautiful community center, electricity, and some wicked fruitful mango trees! Projects just like this one were organized in part of the Jimmy Carter Work Project along the entire Mekong Delta, in Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. Jimmy Carter Work Projects happen every year in one location around the world and pair with Habitat for Humanity in constructing homes for all people! This community was about to open to homeowners, so we witnessed it just after completion and right before use, very exciting!

A rice field backs onto the 82 houses built by the Jimmy Carter Work Project in Chiang Mai. There were hundreds of applicants for these 82 houses, and each home was purchased by the most eligible candidate as chosen by a Habitat for Humanity selection group. All HFH homeowners pay for their homes and are also required to give a set number hours of volunteer time to building their own home and others' homes.

Val, me, and Chris riding back to the Royal Lanna hotel one afternoon after working on the house. To get around, we rode in the back of pick up trucks with benches, a local transportation method, driven by two local Thai people who had benefited previously from Habitat for Humanity support on their homes--it's all part of Habitat's way of getting homeowners involved with their shared investment.

Live simply so that others can simply live. I wore this t-shirt a lot during my volunteer work throughout the trip. My dear friend Kelly G. made it and I wear it with pride still!

We visited a Tribal Hill community in rural Chiang Mai province one free morning. This is Melissa and Libby hanging with some of the local gals, overlooking their village and the lush tropical mountainside.

Red hot chili peppers drying on a basket atop someone's metal roof. Those are gonna have some heat for sure!

Scott, me, and my roommate Yee hang in the shade during our Hill Tribe visit.

Hand chiseled steps along the path in the Hill Tribe community in rural Chiang Mai, Thailand.

A view of the Hill Tribe we visited, where some homes had satellite dishes!

Mangosteen is an absolutely delicious tropical fruit and was often one of our snacks throughout the day as we worked on the home.

"There's a hole in my bucket" kept repeating in my head while we would use these buckets to haul and blend water, concrete powder and sand for hours to make the mortar for foundation and connecting cinder blocks.

I am building the walls that will house a family of four in comfort, giving them dignity and peace. But who says you can't rock out in the process?

My friend Chris and I in the background, raising the stakes and the cinder blocks as we pile layer on top of layer with our spade and mortar.

Tom and Tom! Two of our local Thai Habitat interns were the fabulous Tom and Tom duo, shown here dancing on the job after the project is finished.

Val and I making sure our work is level! Sometimes I wondered about the safety of allowing ME to build a sturdy home...?!

Mixing foundation mortar by combining water with cement mix and rocks.

The local Buddhist temple in the distance of our view from the home site, probably about a ten minute walk away.

Building a mystery?

A lazy, hazy scene of the family's home site, showing the dry season of rice paddies in the background.

Another snack and water break with Cana and me! Local families were hired to feed us on the work site everyday--lucky us to have homemade Thai food--creating a positive ripple effect on employment in the village through our build.

Nina, our energetic and knowledgeable local Thai Habitat for Humanity staff person, packed a lot of spunk into her tiny body, shown here fitting into one of two water and waste collection tanks for the bathroom. Scott and Eric were our two key muscle men during the build, and were able to get the holes dug for these tanks in one morning.

Almost finished with our part in the home build! The walls are coming up, the window frames are in, and then we cover the cinder blocks with fine cement. It was an exhilarating experience watching the walls rise up around us, knowing that our work was helping someone build a house and a home.

The resident water buffalo that would watch us while we worked in the neighboring rice field.

A Siamese cat in the land of Siam, stretching out after a long day on the work site.

One of the several local fresh vegetable and fruit markets in Chiang Mai, city center.

The Sunday night market in downtown Chiang Mai went for miles in four directions, with vendors selling anything and everything, including scrumptious Thai foods of all sorts.

Porn and Dang, the extremely grateful new homeowners of our project (and the unfortunately named, when it comes to English)! These two, along with their two teenage daughters, were on the work site everyday, and could not have been any more humble and thankful for our efforts and their new home. Here, we are having the dedication ceremony at the end of the project, and Porn is crying tears of joy for the opportunity they have been given through Habitat for Humanity and our group's efforts.

Val's Team after the hard work has been done! Congrats Porn and Dang! Dang, Dang!

The skilled Thai construction workers who taught us important building skills throughout the project are pictured here with Porn and Dang in the middle. These men were invaluable, and by paying local workers to help direct international volunteers, Habitat for Humanity provides local incomes to benefit the surrounding community.

Holly getting a little excited (a la Mary Catherine Gallagher) at the Farewell Dinner in Chiang Mai. I don't know if new Habitat for Humanity homeowners Porn and Dang knew how to react to me.

Dang and Porn singing some classic Thai karaoke tunes at the Farewell dinner party!

Letting go more paper lanterns into the sky! Farewell Chiang Mai, with friends Melissa and Kim.

Our local Thai Habitat for Humanity team, along with my volunteer friends Cana and Yee.

SUPERSTARS in Thailand is what we all were!

***

Stay tuned...
Last trip blog post about my time in Portland, Oregon, to come sooner or later!

Closure to come...

2009-12-29T05:51:00.000-08:00

Thanks to everyone who has been following the blog and cheering me on as my trip unfolded!

I am now safely home in Kennett Square, PA, with many stories yet to tell, but due to the chaos of the holidays and getting back into everyday life, it might take me a couple weeks to post the photos from my time in Thailand with Habitat for Humanity and my five days in Portland, Oregon. It is coming, though! Stay tuned...

Sri Lanka, Sri Lanka

2009-12-02T22:23:00.000-08:00

Paradise Found

Figures that at the end of my trip, with only three weeks to go, I drop my camera and break it. Also kind of ironic that I have found myself in the most beautiful place I have ever seen on Earth and do not have the means to show you what it looks like and how happy I am here.

Also kind of strange how I shouldn't have even been in Sri Lanka for as long as I have, since I accidentally missed my late night flight to Thailand and had been exploring this miracle island in the Indian Ocean on somewhat borrowed (actually, stolen) time from Cambodia where I was planning to be at this point in the game. I am sure I will find Cambodia somehow one day, but on this trip it was not meant to be...

After missing my flight, a total "duh" traveler moment I have thankfully not yet had on the voyage, I decided to take it as a sign from the universe to explore Sri Lanka for two weeks. I quickly escaped the heat of Colombo, and trekked 6 hours inland by bus to Nuwara Eliya, a green town in the lush temperate mountains of tea country. I was so thrilled to be accompanied by Susantha Aponsu, an extremely capable 27-year old Sri Lankan man I met on the Colombo beaches. He volunteered to leave his friend in charge of his beach front restaurant so he could join me on my journey, a move I benefited from immensely during our five days in the verdant interior.

In Nuwara Eliya, I nearly wept at the sight of manicured tea plantations mixed with terraced red soil richer than I have ever seen. Locals grew a variety of vibrant vegetables with tender care, exhibiting a link with the local environment I have seen little evidence of during my time in poverty-stricken and development-hungry hubs of Asia. I have no doubt that I was also slightly delirious on the fumes of cool mountain air, something I have craved amidst the urban, polluted cities of India recently. Susantha and I traveled around by bus and train to a couple local sites, all the while soaking in a landscape that words fail to describe.

We visited Kandy, home of the "Tooth Temple" named after the Buddha's tooth relic that resides there, and the Royal Botanical Gardens close by. We hiked the precariously slick and steep ascent to "Lover's Cliff", a waterfall where a British couple plunged to their death many years ago during the British occupation of Sri Lanka (Sri Lanka has been occupied by the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the British over the past 300 years, finally gaining independence in 1947). Susantha, always making connections with the locals in the native Singhalese language, arranged a breakfast and tea visit with a local family one morning (something he repeated many times with friends in the Colombo area). In this young couple's home, we got to hold their one and a half month old baby girl for hours while talking with the two about their lives as new parents, small scale farmers, and as part of the Hindu Tamil minority of the country's diverse population. Sri Lanka is majority Buddhist, with smaller percentages of Hindus, Muslims and Christians, respectively, all living in relative harmony, especially after the ~30-year long Tamil Tiger conflict has been resolved over the past year.

During my remaining five days in Colombo, I've hung out with Susantha and his unpredictable and warm-hearted Sri Lankan friends on the beaches of Dehiwala and Mt. Lavinia, beach towns close to the Sri Lankan capital of Colombo where Susantha and I initially met. I've walked like a Southern belle around town, hiding from the hot sun and sudden rains under my small umbrella. I feel safe and happy in the capital city's metropolitan area, always accompanied by Susantha and his friends, laughing and deciding where to eat and who to visit next. There is a lot to be said for how a collection of these simple home visits, afternoon teas with families, can shape the character and endless hospitality of a culture--an observation I have made countless times along this 6-month journey.

Overall, Sri Lanka has a lot more going for it in terms of fighting poverty than a lot of other developing Asian nations. There are far less people here to care for, which makes a huge difference when there are always a scarcity of jobs and resources. Also, the infrastructure is beyond what I expected; paved roads, proper buildings for businesses and homes alike, and much improved waste disposal than other parts of Asia. Primary and secondary is free and compulsory for all citizens, one of the most critical aspects of any 'developing' society. Tourism is a huge source of income for the country and I can certainly see why--there are so many unique, well-maintained destinations, including monuments, temples, national parks, and beaches.

I have loved Sri Lanka so much; hands down, it has been my favorite destination on the trip. I definitely plan to come back as soon as possible, hoping to work and live here one day in the picturesque mountains of Nuwara Eliya (with Susantha?!). I would expect you all to come and visit when the dream comes true on this magical island!

Amazing Agra and Holy Varanasi

2009-11-21T02:03:00.000-08:00

Incredible !ndia Continues...

Agra, Uttar Pradesh

The Taj Mahal

I woke up for sunrise at the one and only Taj Mahal, the majestic masoleum of Mumtaz Mahal and her husband, Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, who commissioned the masterpiece after his favorite wife's death in 1631.

The Taj Mahal took over 20 years to build and required the labor of thousands of craftsmen.

The gardens and fountains that surround the Taj Mahal are meant to represent the paradise of the Garden of Eden.

Inside the Taj Mahal mosque at dawn.

Made from white marble, the Taj Mahal is known for the semi-precious stones which are inlaid throughout its flowery motifs.

Inlaid jasper calligraphy (quoting Koranic scripture relating to the Judgment Day) wraps around the entrance and was designed so that all text looks of equal size as viewed from the ground.

***

The Red Fort of Agra

Outside the Red Fort of Agra.

The Agra Fort, where Emperor Shah Jahan, founder of the Taj Mahal, was imprisoned at the end of his life by his son, Aurangzeb. Apparently, Shah Jahan was given rather luxurious accommodations despite his confinement, complete with a view of the Taj Mahal.

Monkey on the look out at the Agra Fort.

A sea of colorful saris...

The sun sets in the courtyard of the Agra Fort.

***

Scenes of life from Agra...

What's great is that these two guys were already posed like this before I broke out my camera, just peddling along in a friendly embrace. Platonic male affection, such as men holding hands, is much more acceptable in India (and many other countries I have visited, especially Muslim countries) than in the Western world, a sight that always warms my heart.

I love these guys--their smiles are just so infectious! Despite scarcity and hardship, Indians are such remarkably emotive and amicable people, almost always at the ready with a giant grin and a hearty laugh.

School's out, flooding the Agra streets with a haze of blue uniforms and bicycle tires!

Sad but common sight of cows and other animals scavenging for edibles in heaps of rubbish. It's also common to see birds perched on cows, as seen here, scavenging for their own edibles in the cow's hide.

These two adorable children were sitting on this bench, quietly watching their classmates play on the playground equipment, when I asked to take this photo.

Aboard a cycle-rickshaw, where sweat equity competes directly alongside fossil fuels. This guy, like most cycle-rickshaw drivers, is amongst the poorest residents of the local community, and certainly works incredibly hard for his rupees. I preferred cycle-rickshaws when given the choice, as the air pollution is so bad in Indian cities, it's critical to support the environmentally friendly option!

Note: You rarely travel along a street without seeing a cow lingering calmly along...

All smiles on this cycle-rickshaw adventure!

A roundabout in Agra, featuring a proud Mughal statue, evidence of the distinct Mughal history of this region.

A classic sign in the Agra train station. For quite some time, India has had to deal with corruption in all levels of government, not that corruption is unique to the Indian government!

Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh

"Older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together."

--Mark Twain on the holy city of Varanasi

Varanasi, also known as Benares or Banaras, is said to have been established by Lord Shiva around 5,000 years ago...yeah, that's old! However, many historians assert the city to have been founded around 3,000 years ago (still, pretty old).

The view from my guesthouse balcony along the Ganges (Ganga) River, the holiest river for Hindus, Buddhists and Jains in India. It is here where the pious (and often wealthy) come to cremate their loved ones and deposit their ashes, while others come to bath in the waters or live out their remaining days... It is believed that if one dies in Varanasi, s/he is released from the cycle of birth and rebirth, entering into the final resting place of heaven.

The reason for the metal bars is featured in the next photo...

MONKEYS are always on the loose! After watching these monkeys reek havoc throughout all corners of India, I have decided that there really is no legitimate reason why they don't take over the world. They are such smart, rascally creatures!

I ate at this popular, no-frills restaurant several times during my four-day stay in Varanasi. These wonderful fellows would fry up the samosas and parathas fresh in the front of the shop as you waited for your order. It's like heaven, fried!

A typical thali meal served in eateries all over India. A thali generally includes two vegetable curries, dhal (a lentil curry) or some other protein, rice, roti/chapati (flat wheat bread) , a dab of pickle (spicy chutney), curd (plain yogurt), and if you get a special thali, you would also get a banana/piece of fruit and/or perhaps a sweet dessert item. Most places will top you up if you want more of any dish, too. Talk about a filling and well-balanced meal!

One of the produce markets of Old City Varanasi. As atmospheric as it is confusing (especially when the power randomly goes out at night), Varanasi's labyrinthine Old City is rich with culture, paanwallah stalls and small shops.

My friend Shiva is in the middle, with his brother in the blue, and our trusty auto-rickshaw driver friend at the helm of his three-wheeled chariot. Shiva was the best friend I made during my time in India. He would take breaks during his work day to meet me and show me the temples and crematoriums of Varanasi. I spent quality time with his family in their home and at their lassi shop, and even enjoyed a home-cooked meal while his whole family peered on. I joked that he was the Indian Johnny Depp, since he looked so much like Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean (complete with black eyeliner!). Thanks to connections with local people like Shiva, I feel like I have been able to experience the real and beautiful India.

These are two of Shiva's uncles, one of whom is a TV repairman, seen here working away in his shop below the family's home.

Shiva's dad, manning the family's famous Blue Lassi shop, which is written up in a Korean guidebook and has a huge following amongst Asian travelers. I had at least one lassi (a delicious yogurt-based drink) every day from the shop, and like smashing glass at a Jewish wedding, they would have me shatter the small clay cup container against the trashcan when finished. I am now determined to get the Blue Lassi Shop featured in the Rough Guide book that I have used during my time in India as it truly is the best lassi I have ever tasted!

I awoke one morning before sunrise to embark on a boat ride on the River Ganges to observe the faithful in their bathing rituals. This young man was my valiant captain, rising in the wee hours of the morning (alongside his father and mother, who did this for a living) to take tourists and pilgrims out and make some money before going to school at 8am. What a day and what a remarkable young man!

Lighting a candle garnished by a heap of fresh flowers as a puja offering...

...and letting it go on the Ganges River. Shanti...

One of the many bathing ghats along the River Ganges where the faithful come to bath in the holy (but rather polluted, thanks to the many factories upstream and the crematoriums in town) waters. There are roughly 100 ghats in Varanasi.

Ghats are the concrete steps leading down into the water, and were originally used for boatmen when Varanasi was founded. This ghat was promoting an exhibition about sex slavery in India, an issue very dear to my heart (I have read two books so far on this journey about modern-day slavery--there are 6 million slaves in the world at this very moment--sex slavery being one of the key kinds).

A busy nightlife scene on the streets of Varanasi.

***

Overall, I have to say that Varanasi is the craziest and most intriguing place I have ever visited.

One thing I could not have shown photos of is the live cremation ceremony, which is something I witnessed with immense reverence and rapture on several occasions. [Out of respect for the dead, photos are not allowed at cremation ceremonies.]

Everyday, hundreds of bodies are burned using special, and rather costly, wood from another part of India, shipped in along the same river that sees the bodies off to eternity. Before the bodies are captured by flames, they are wrapped in sparkly, orange cloth, and adorned with fresh flowers. The body is then wrapped tightly onto a bamboo ladder and is carried down to the river Ganges by male family members and friends, all singing the same chant "Shri Ram nam satya hai!" Many times, I would be sitting in the Blue Lassi Shop, enjoying my drink, talking to Shiva and his family, and a funeral procession would careen past, my Indian counterparts completely unfazed by this unreal scene whisking by, gone as quickly as it had appeared. I would sit there, slack-jawed and on the verge of tears, amazed at how the rites of death can coexist so peacefully with the daily routines of the living in Varanasi.

When the funeral party reaches the river, the body is dunked into the holy water, and then everything but a thin piece of clinging white linen is removed from the fragile corpse. The family members place the body on the funeral pyre, seeming astonishingly composed despite such a moving duty, sometimes adding sandalwood sawdust to the loved one's white, soaked outline. The body burns until all that remains is the skull and the hip bone, at which point the fire begins to shrink and the bones are taken out by boat and thrown into the middle of the river. Children, pregnant women, and animals are not cremated, but are tied tightly to a heavy rock and placed into the river directly.

Varanasi, where I experienced life and death side by side as I never thought possible. INTENSE. Inevitable. Inexplicable.

I was particularly inspired to come to Varanasi after viewing a rather emotional photo presentation from my friends' Bob and Diana Leitch's trip to Varanasi some years ago. They spoke with such soul as we went through their images of life and death along the ghats. Thanks to them both for encouraging me to spend time in this unparalleled place.

***

An unfortunate ending to an amazing month in India...

Hasta la victoria, siempre!

After my Dehli to Chennai flight landed, I was hanging around the airport for some hours until my next flight to Sri Lanka, when I just couldn't ignore the chills anymore. (Nor could my neighbors on the bench outside, who grew especially suspicious as I shivered under the hood of my beloved sweatshirt amidst the 32 degree heat plus humidity). Near delusional, I checked myself into the medical clinic at the airport, where hours later they called an ambulance to take me to the local hospital to diagnose my worsening condition. I spent the next three days being treated for an acute bacterial infection in the gut (affectionately known as 'Dehli Belly').

I may have been down, but I fought on! I am feeling 100% better now, owing my recovery to a steady stream of IV drips and an artillery of antibiotic medications. Thanks to my family for their encouraging phone calls while I was in the hospital...it really kept me going.

My outstanding medical caretakers at the Lakshmi Nursing Home in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, where I spent three days getting to know the intimate details of patient care in south India. Note my hottie doctor on the far right, who I just relished discussing my 'loose motions' with...not!

Namaste India! Now, to Sri Lanka...

Incredible !ndia

2009-11-08T00:36:00.001-08:00

I LOVE INDIA!

I have always been enchanted by everything Indian: the food, the color, the dress, the music, the religions, the diverse culture, the dance...the list goes on. I also value the complexity of the history here; riddled with colonialism and caste cruelty, India is certainly not for the faint-of-heart, but it is also the most rewarding place I have ever traveled. I only hope to convey an ounce of the magical realism that I feel transpires on a daily basis here in incredible India.

Mahabalipuram (Mamallapuram), Tamil Nadu

While working on the Robinson-Turner farm in Cork County, Ireland, father Barry recommended I visit Mahabalipuram, a laid back town south of Chennai along the coast of Tamil Nadu where he had spent time in his youth. Following his sage advise, I made my way to Mamallapuram (its new name since many Indian cities have reclaimed their proper Indian names post-British colonialism) for a blissful five-day stay.

Riding in an auto-rickshaw between seaside towns near Mahabalipuram. Normally, the roads in India are NEVER this empty.

Riding in an auto-rickshaw out of Mahabalipuram.

A man harvesting coconuts at my guesthouse, with the owner's daughter, Pooja, looking on from the left of the balcony below.

Ram and me sipping from the freshly-harvested coconuts in the courtyard of my guesthouse where Ram worked. One day, I asked Ram where he lived. He walked into a small room off the courtyard and pointed to a straw mat and blanket, folded in a small pile in the corner. He laughed about being devoured by mosquitoes in the door-less room while he stole hours of shut-eye between guests coming and going. He told me that his village was too far away to travel on a daily basis, so the guesthouse owners let him sleep in this spare room at night and prepared him a portion of their food at every meal. On weekends, he made the 1 1/2 bus trip (one-way) to attend classes in Chennai, hoping to pursue accounting one day. Stories like his are common in India, demonstrating a somewhat national desire to work incredibly hard, pursue higher education, and hopefully create a better life despite the odds of poverty. It was a real honor meeting and befriending Ram and his employers.

Mamallapuram is home to one of South India's most important temples, the Shore Temple, picture above. The temple is fashioned from stone and reflects an iconic Dravidian style of architecture that set the standard for most Southern Hindu temples, with influence reaching as far as Southeast Asia.

A view of the Shore Temple from the beach.

A family playing on the beach. Everything in India is beaming with color, even the fishing boats!

Fishing boat adorned with Lord Shiva and the Indian flag.

Bengaluru (Bangalore), Karnataka

I thought I would show you a glimpse of my personal space as a traveler, complete with my guide book and a local map sprawled out on my bed. This is my room at the home of Sumitha and Jay, a family that runs a homestay hostel in Bangalore.

My host mother, Sunitha, and her son, Anath, outside their lovely home in Bangalore. I enjoyed this homestay immensely, as it allowed me to talk with the family, ask questions, and relax in a home setting.

Bangalore is one of the fastest growing cities on Earth, owing much of its success to the IT (Information Technology) industry that is growing more rapidly than the infrastructure to handle it. Here, you can see the aerial metro that is being constructed to transport people around the city.

I appreciate how the public works works around this holy Hindu temple, with the street light perfectly perched on the very top.

The sun setting behind a temple in my neighborhood in Bangalore.

A tranquil spot in Bangalore's Lal Bagh Botanical Garden.

This little girl was hilarious! I watched as she lectured and scolded this animal statue on some serious breach of etiquette at the Lal Bagh Botanical Gardens.

This family was eager to take a photo with me in the foreground of this temple at the Lal Bagh Botanical Gardens.

Welcome to the streets of India, home to auto-rickshaws, cars, lorries, cows, motorcycles (precariously transporting entire families, including un-helmeted children), bicycles, and pedestrians. This street is very quiet compared to most, but I just had to capture the cow, sitting lazily along the traffic, as many do. I kept thinking of the expression: "Calm as a Hindu cow", because it is SO true that the holy cow (!) has nothing to worry about in India, even while I feared for my life as a pedestrian.

Ah, only in India... I watched as this (unattended) horse walked past these people and helped itself to a drink in the water fountain.

This photo hardly does this scene justice, but it attempts to capture a beautiful, canopied tree and a bamboo patch in Cubbon Park.

A great portrayal of Bangalore, recently renamed Bengaluru, as the booming "Garden City" of India. Here, the red building is the city's art museum.

Road sweepers in Cubbon Park. These ladies spend their days whisking away the dirt, leaves, and trash from the roads and sidewalks of Cubbon Park with basic hand-held thatch brooms. Like many occupations in India, much labor is still conducted manually, as the cheap labor force is so plentiful.

Benaulim, Goa

I have enjoyed most of my meals in simple thali joints, where locals can get a full balanced meal for under one dollar. Here, I was carefully attended by a group of young boys (two of whom were brothers), who watched dutifully and acted promptly as people finished their meals or required refills. They giggled when I smiled at them between bites and later relished the opportunity to have a photo taken.

An amazing sunset from my balcony in Benaulim, Goa. The Arabian Sea was just beyond these palms and rice paddies, a five minute walk from my simple but charming one room accommodation. The short walk felt like an eternity, as I was convinced there were snakes hiding in the brush, ready to bite at any opportunity.

A typical home in Goa, where residents are often hardworking fishermen with a more relaxed pace of life than most other parts of India. In the photo above, this family is drying small fish along with airing out the fishing nets. Especially during the evenings, you can see the men repairing the tired nets as the sun starts to dip.

Water buffalo grazing in the recently harvested rice paddies. I found the water buffalo to be such perceptive and curious animals, recognizing my watchful gaze immediately and following it until I looked away.

Throughout Goa, you will find small Roman Catholic churches and shrines in the middle of nowhere, adorned by followers on a daily basis with fresh marigold and chrysanthymum garlands. Due to the Portuguese colonial history here in the tiny state of Goa, a majority of residents are Catholic, living peacefully alongside Hindus and other religious sects.

Everyday, I would walk past this shop and get gently hassled by Subash and Pooja, the two children pictured above. These two eager salespeople helped their mother sell souvenirs from the shop located adjacent to their humble shack abode. On this day, I finally relented to buying something, a purchase which afforded them rice with their staple dhal (lentil stew) dinner.

I love the dreamy mist that seems to settle over this "Reve Lane" ("Dream Lane") road sign on the beach road to Benaulim, Goa.

On the morning I left Benaulim, I snapped this shot of a schoolgirl walking to her bus stop, guided by the first rays of the day. Although basic education is not free or compulsory in India, many poor families do everything in their power to send their children to school, whether it be public or private, as Indians realize a better future is accomplished with education. Oddly enough, even children not attending school can speak several languages at a young age, something that should show Americans the value in learning other languages as a valuable skill!

The railway station in Margoa, Goa, where I took a 12-hour train to Mumbai. The train network in India is certainly one of the best vestiges from the British Raj, being the world's largest employer...but also one of the world's most dangerous... Overall, I have really enjoyed taking the trains throughout India, all of which have been on time, super affordable, clean and full of chaiwallahs and samosa-hawkers! Thank goodness they offer an A/C class!

The train ride from Goa to Mumbai was lush and green, as vaguely seen here by sunset through my cloudy window on the train.

Mumbai (Bombay), Maharashtra

About a year ago, when I began planning this around the world trip, I envisioned staying with my friend Amee Master's extended family in Mumbai (Bombay). I was elated to find out that her grandparents, aunts and uncle were happy to have me during my five days in the financial capital of India.

I want to extend a most gracious and heartfelt thank you to Kaka, Baa, Nita, Sunil, Tina, Rohan, Avande, and Agam for hosting me and showing me the best Mumbai has to offer. I would also like to thank Amee and the Master family for a lifetime of sacred friendship, a priceless gift that planted in me at a very young age the seed of profound appreciation for India and its mesmerizing culture, food, music, etc. I am forever grateful for this influence and continue to be amazed by all that India has to offer.

The local fruit and vegetable market by night in Vile Parle, a suburb of Mumbai where I stayed with the Shah family. Aunt Nita buys her fruit on a regular basis from this stand.

Another colorful shot of the fruit and vegetable market in Vile Parle.

One of the remarkable business ventures of Mumbai is the dhabawallah network. Dhabawallahs hand deliver thousands of hot lunches from the suburbs and private homes of Mumbai to workers in the city, so that workers can enjoy a cheaper meal during their busy day. Lunches are prepared at home, packaged in metal tiffins and often insulated by lunch bags, each labeled with a unique hand-written code that corresponds to the individual recipient of the meal, their place of work, etc. At each train station, dhabawallahs exchange and collect tiffins bound for a certain destination, amalgamating and hustling off to the next point where they hand off the meals to another dhabawallah. Finally, all of the meals for one office building are gathered and delivered, food still hot from home and always on time. Later, at around 4 o'clock, the tiffins are collected and returned to the home where they started, ready to begin again the following workday. The network is incredibly accountable and efficient; on average, out of 6 million tiffins, one is lost, a statistic that has brought much attention to the over one hundred year old practice, including press from Forbes magazine.

I had read about this network in my guidebook, and when I asked the Shah family about it, they arranged a morning following their family's dhabawallah. Above, a dhabawallah is helped in balancing a load of tiffins on his head. You can generally spot a dhabawallah by their clean, starched white uniforms and sailor hats.

Nita translating and probing the dhabawallah on the routine as we follow the tiffins from one station to the next via the local (and most heavily used nationwide) train network.

A mad, hurried scramble to assign each tiffin to its appropriate rack before the next train arrives! I appreciate the order amidst the chaos that the dhabawallahs orchestrate on a daily basis, all in an effort to feed office workers their home-cooked food, still piping hot, all without leaving their desks.

This is one entrance to Dharavi, Asia's largest slum and home to Slumdog Millionaire. I toured Dharavi with a group called Reality Tours, which specializes in culturally-sensitive tours in Mumbai. Eighty percent of the tour cost goes back into the community, and has helped start several primary schools and one community center. I learned so much and witnessed some interesting economic enterprises, such as the incredible recycling facilities that thrive here, but because of a strict (and completely understandable) no-photo policy, I have only this photo to show for my time in Dharavi.

Paanwallah at work! There are roadside stands for just about everything in India, this one being for a digestive edible called paan. Paan is the name of the green leaf that is filled with a variety of sweetened herbs and spices, rolled up and eaten after meals.

I love how Indians seem to add wallah to just about anything, as it denotes the person who does a job or sells an item. Example: dhabawallah (delivers tiffins), chaiwallah (sells chai=tea), dhobiwallah (washes clothes along a river), paanwallah (see above), the list goes on...

Auntie Tina Vakil and me relaxing on an indoor swing.

A child performer on a tight rope in Mumbai, India. Sometimes you just have to watch the show and forget that this kid should be in school...!

Avande Vakil and me in front of the Gateway of India, Mumbai's defining edifice built to welcome British royalty during the 19th century. Just across the street is the Taj Hotel, Mumbai's most famous luxury hotel which was bombed nearly one year ago.

Avande and Agam Vikil, along with Rohan Shah and me, savoring a Punjabi meal at one of the family's favorite restaurants in Mumbai: Zaffran! Absolutely mouth-watering...

Eating another wonderful, home-cooked Indian feast with the Shah Family in their Vile Parle home outside of central Mumbai. Pictured from left to right is grandfather "Kaka", grandmother "Baa", mother "Nita", and father "Sunil". I stayed in their lovely home for my five day-stay in Mumbai and was treated like absolute royalty. Thank you so much for having me! I will miss you all...

Now, off to Agra and Varanasi! Namaste.

Seeking Peace in the Middle East

2009-10-20T12:09:00.000-07:00

Greetings from my current location of Mamallapuram, Tamil Nadu, India!

My apologies that this blog update has been so long in the making; internet connection is spotty at best lately and it takes me many sessions at the computer to complete a full report. And once I finish, I still feel like there is so much more I should say.

I hope you enjoy reading it and learning more about what's really happening on the ground in the Middle East, specifically in Palestine, although it's certainly not an exhaustive portrayal of all that's going on. For a good overview of Palestine's recent history in brief, check out: http://atouristsguidetotheoccupation.blogspot.com/2009/04/tourists-guide-to-occupation.html. Overall, I had an extremely intense month in Israel, Palestine, Jordan and the United Arab Emirates, and hope one day to return to this fascinating region to do more social justice and solidarity work, Inshallah (Arabic for "if God wills it").

Before you begin to view my photos and read the captions that never seem to truly encapsulate what I photographed, I want to say that I entered this part of the world with a particularly open mind and open heart. While I came here to work alongside Palestinians, my aim has never been to generalize Israelis, and especially not Jews as a whole, as a malicious people with occupation at their sole intent. My experience confirmed for me that the Israeli state can never fully represent the diversity and will of its people, just like every other country and governmental foreign policy in the world (the US certainly included, a point I have always had to make clear while traveling as an American!). There have been many amazing Israelis and Jews from around the world that I have met along the way, all of them doing important work to end the occupation and urge for a more peaceful solution to the daily struggles of the Palestinians (and to some degree, the Israelis).

Noteworthy Israeli Peace Organizations:
B'Tselem (http://www.btselem.org/English/index.asp)
Anarchists Against the Wall (http://www.awalls.org/)
Rabbis for Human Rights (http://www.rhr-na.org/)

Noteworthy Peace and Sustainability Organizations in Palestine:
International Solidarity Movement--the group I worked with...(http://palsolidarity.org/)
Friends of Freedom and Justice-Bi'lin--another group I worked with...(http://www.bilin-ffj.org/)
Christian Peacemakers Team (http://www.cpt.org/)
International Women's Peace Service (http://www.iwps-pal.org/en/index.php)
Bustan Qaraaqa Permaculture (http://www.bustanqaraaqa.org/al2/web/page/display/id/1.html)

I also want to point out that I have only experienced the West Bank of Palestine, not the Gaza Strip, which is a totally different place, with different stories and a vastly different set of problems (it's a completely isolated, impenetrable ghetto with an approx. 80% unemployment rate).

To close my introduction, I want to share a poem that I read years ago called The Seed Keepers. It continues to strike a chord with me, especially after witnessing what occupation looks like for everyday people in Palestine.

The Seed Keepers
by Fawaz Turki

Burn our land
burn our dream
pour acid onto our songs
cover with sawdust
the blood of our massacred people
muffle with your technology
the screams of imprisoned patriots,
destroy,
destroy
our grass and soil
raze to the ground
every farm and every village
our ancestors had built,
I do not fear your tyranny.
I guard one seed
of a tree
my forefathers have saved
that I shall plant again
in my homeland.

***

Old Jaffa, Israel

The crescent adorning a Muslim mosque juxtaposed perfectly with the moon in Old Jaffa, Israel (just south of Tel Aviv).

The sunset soaked harbor of Old Jaffa, Israel.

A new moon meets the jagged barbed wire and corrugated tin roofing of Old Jaffa, Israel.

Seeing this broken glass reminded me of Kristallnacht, a night in Germany when synagogues and Jewish establishments were shattered and terrorized leading up to the Holocaust. Old Jaffa, Israel.

Jerusalem, Israel/Palestine

Outside the New Palm Hostel, where I stayed for one week in Jerusalem. The entrance was a fruit stand, welcoming an array of colorful characters! The hostel became affectionately known as the Napalm by the end of my stay, due to its lack of cleanliness and its general insanity. But boy was it cheap and interesting!

Mount of Olives, Jerusalem, Israel.

Overlooking the Old City from the Mount of Olives where Jesus was crucified. Many Jews wish to be buried here, (you can see the white graves in the foreground) as they believe it will be the first place where the Messiah will arrive to redeem the faithful. It is the oldest, most continuously used graveyard in the world. Jerusalem, Israel.

My wonderful German friend Dennis and me at the Mount of Olives. Genau!

My dear friend Michal posing in front of Damascus Gate, which marks the entrance into the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, East Jerusalem, Palestine/Israel. Damascus Gate was located directly across from our hostel, making it super convenient to get to the Old City market and sights.

A scene from within the Old City, Jerusalem, Israel.

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A pyramid of spices in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, Jerusalem, Palestine/Israel.

More spices in the Muslim Quarter souk (Arabic for market) in the Old City of Jerusalem, Palestine/Israel.

Breaking the Yom Kippur fast with my international crew of friends in the Christian quarter of the Old City, Jerusalem, Israel.

Posing in front of the Western (Wailing) Wall in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City on Yom Kippur, the Jewish calendar's most holy day. Jerusalem, Israel.

Michal, me, and Jamal posing with the dragon statue at Liberty Bell Park in Jerusalem, Israel.

Michal ready to devour another delicious falafel! YUM! This guy definitely knew us by the end of my week long stay in the neighborhood. East Jerusalem, Palestine/Israel.

Admiring this restaurant's outdoor sukkot, a structure created from palms to celebrate the week long Jewish holiday of...Sukkot! This recalls the time when Jews were fleeing slavery in Egypt and had very little to create shelter, so during this week of Sukkot, Jews do everything of their daily lives under the palm structure. West Jerusalem, Israel.

Hugging an orange tree back to health after it's experienced transplant shock at my friend David's house. Jerusalem, Israel.

My last night in Jerusalem with two of my favorite new friends: Mustapha, a French journalist from Paris on the left, and Jamal, a Palestinian law student from East Jerusalem on the right. I was welcomed to Jerusalem (or J-Slam as I began to call it) with a party on the roof of an abandoned hospital, and spent my last night at the same place where it all began...it was like the U.N., such an international crowd with so much to discuss in so many languages!

West Bank, Palestine

After two days of ISM training in the Palestinian West Bank capital city of Ramallah, I headed out to Susiya, in the south of the West Bank. Here, my Italian comrade Francesca and I took over from Matthew, a Danish fellow also working with ISM, in going out with the shepherds early in the morning, deescalating any problems with Israeli soldiers or local settlers. This is the tent where we slept and hung out. One side of the tent had been melted away by a storm of Molotov cocktails that settlers had launched one night, a thought that made for real sweet dreams! Thankfully, we had no major problems while I was in Susiya.

My first morning view of Susiya, a vista fraught with rocks, dry land, olives trees and conflict. West Bank, Palestine.

Matthew and Francesa waiting for soldiers to come...

And they did come. We tried talking to this soldier about leaving Ahmed alone to graze his sheep, but the soldier insisted he was in a closed military zone and he must return to his camp immediately.

Mohammad, the patriarch of the family with whom we stayed for one week.

Francesa, me, and one of the family's sisters (whose name I have forgotten). The tent in the background is where internationals slept. Susiya, West Bank, Palestine.

Abu Jihad on the left and the matriarch of the family with her grandson on the right. Susiya, West Bank, Palestine.

Ahmed and his flock as the sun rises over the desert.

Ahmed and his flock in the early morning sun.

Ahmed and his flock.

Ahmed and one of his prized ladies.

Ahmed's sheep and goats, with local town hub Yatta in the background haze.

Ahmed standing on the well where he pulls water up a bucket-full at a time to nourish his animals.

Ahmed, their cat, his mother Sarah, and his wife, after they made us an amazing breakfast one morning after grazing the animals.

Sarah, looking out onto her disputed land, where she has raised her children and her animals all her life.

A Susiya woman with her child as we were welcomed into her family's home for shi (Arabic for tea).

Zhara, the little rascal, with her cousin, as we drew together with some supplies I had brought.

Part of the family we stayed with in Susiya, all lined up to welcome a group of Germans.

Many of the families in Susiya are equipped with solar and wind power to generate their own energy, thanks to an incredible non-profit renewable energy company called Comet-ME. I had the honor of meeting the two owners of Comet-ME, both of whom are Israeli scientists against the occupation. Comet-ME is in the running for the BBC's World Challenge Award, which rewards amazing environmental and humanitarian achievements around the globe. I highly encourage you to learn more about them (and vote for them!) at: http://www.theworldchallenge.co.uk/ or check out their own website: http://comet-me.org/.

Nassar welcoming a group from Germany, telling them about the hardships they face as neighbors to an illegal Israeli settlement.

Posing in the shrinking sun with my good friend and disease host, Zhara, one of Mahmoud's four children who I grew to love. Zhara was infamous for diving into your lap and smothering you with love...and snot. She would always point to the food her mother served us with her whole cupped hand, and like an insistent Italian grandmother, telling you, "Eat, eat!", even when you had stuffed yourself silly.

Mahmoud and his oldest son, Isir, demonstrate the fallout of being a Palestinian land owner near the an illegal Israeli settlement. While accompanying Mahmoud and his flock this early morning, Francesca and I watched as he knelt down and picked up an Israeli bullet alongside the road. Mahmoud dissassembled the bullet and spelled "Allah" (Arabic for God) in gunpowder on a rock. We watched with fear as he lit it on fire, only to witness that it wouldn't explode like a scene from an action movie, but rather it burned carefully into the craggy moonscape, leaving God's mark for years to come.

Sarah, the feistiest Palestinian lady I met, had no trouble telling the Israeli military how she felt about being told to get off her land while grazing her family's sheep and goats.

Little Mohammed, my favorite of Mahmoud's little dirty rascals, standing proudly in his father's greenhouse, which is home to tasty tomatoes, spicy peppers, and bountiful beans--all in the middle of the desert!

The bustling old city souk (Arabic for market) of Nablus, West Bank, Palestine.

A martyr poster proudly hanging in this carpenter's shop. Palestinian martyrs are generally young men who have been killed by the Israeli military as they stand up for Palestinian rights. They are a common sight in shops, homes, and public places around the West Bank.

Mountains of eggs piled in front of overheated chickens, who would pant in their cages, awaiting the moment of doom when someone would select them as dinner. The butcher would slaughter the animal then and there, which is just about as fresh as it gets...until you see the facilities, which aren't so fresh.

Beans and nuts and seeds, oh my! Nablus souk, West Bank, Palestine

A wide selection of flavored tobacco and hookah products for your smoking pleasure. Smoking from the hookah is a favorite pastime for many Palestinian men...and internationals! Nablus souk, West Bank, Palestine

Jamal and Marianne leading the way to Jamal's family land which is bisected by the Israeli apartheid wall. Deir Sharif, West Bank, Palestine.

Jamal Musa explaining his family's ongoing struggle to Marianne and me. The Israeli military has destroyed over 160 of their family's olive trees (most over 100 years old) since building the wall in 1995. Their remaining land is split by the wall, and they do not have permission to access a majority of the land except for one or two days a year during which they can harvest the olives. Like many families with illegal Israeli settlements adjacent to their land, they are actually scheduled by the Israeli DCO (District Coordinating Office) to be accompanied by the Israeli military for one or two days a year so they do not experience any harassment from settlers while they harvest their crop. Like all Palestinians, no compensation has ever been offered for their losses. Deir Sharif, West Bank, Palestine.

Ripe olives in the foreground of the dry landscape, while the Israeli apartheid wall runs like a jagged scar across Palestinian land in the background. Deir Sharif, West Bank, Palestine.

My first day picking olives! Deir Sharif, West Bank, Palestine.

An Israeli military vehicle scours the wall, for once protecting the Palestinians, as we hurry to pick the olives during the one precious DCO date. Deir Sharif, West Bank, Palestine.

This quarry is visible from Jamal's family land. On the other side of the quarry is a landfill site and (untreated) sewage dumping site used exclusively for Israeli settlements. While the Oslo Accords of 1993 state clearly that this land is designed for joint Israeli and Palestinian industrial development, the Israeli settlers have taken exclusive rights to its use. Deir Sharif, West Bank, Palestine.

Brothers passing coffee over the fence that separates their land. Deir Sharif, West Bank, Palestine.

A Palestinian woman sorting olives. Kufr Qalil, West Bank, Palestine.

The family with whom we were working on this day owned many olive trees, but feared that the Israeli settlers on the other side of this ridge would come down and harass them at any moment (as they often did). This is the exact reason the Palestinian families ask internationals to come: to deter settlement provocation, to deescalate any problems which may arise, and to document any issues that transpire with video and still cameras. Kufr Qalil, West Bank, Palestine.

I thought of peace while picking olives in the relentless Palestinian sun. Kufr Qalil, West Bank, Palestine.

Francesca and another international volunteer join a Palestinian woman in her family's olive harvest. Kufr Qalil, West Bank, Palestine.

The security check point for one of the many illegal Israeli settlements in the West Bank. There are also many planned and 'on the fly' check points that Palestinians have to go through in their own country, one of the most defining examples of this occupation. Palestinians have to carry their ID cards on them at all times, and failure to do so is a punishable offense. Each Palestinian has a special classification marked by a different color ID, showing where they are allowed to go within the West Bank and East Jerusalem, all depending on where they were born and the arbitrary regulations pertaining to that area. Many have said this is a bureaucratic war and I agree. The apartheid wall has stolen land marked by international agreements as Palestinian land, while it also further limits and prolongs Palestinians from getting around and accessing basic services and employment. For more information on the wall, check out Wikipedia's post: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Israeli_West_Bank_barrier. Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

Mother Kafa telling us the story of her husband's arrest the day before for not backing down from the settlers who wielded guns while they were harvesting olives. Kafa had many heart-breaking stories to share, like witnessing her brother shot dead in front of her as a young girl, and enduring the pain of her son being imprisoned as a political prisoner for years--the fate of thousands of Palestinian young men. Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

Reach for it! Picking olives in Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

Soso up in one of her family's olive trees, creating mischief, no doubt. Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

Father Mohammed whacked the olives off the branches with a long stick. The olives fell on a tarp below where we would collect and sometimes sort them. Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

Boiling tea over a crackling fire in the middle of the olive grove. Drinking super sugary black tea (sometimes with sage or zatar, a desert herb) was a staple of communing with the Palestinian families with whom we worked. It's amazing how much the ritual of drinking tea transcends language and cultural differences. Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

The only Palestinian terrorist I met... Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

My dear Italian comrade, Francesca, and I on my last day of olive harvesting. Kufr Qaddum, West Bank, Palestine.

Peacing out from Nablus, West Bank, Palestine, on the rooftop apartment I called home for one week. The green dome in the background is the Jamma Hadj Mosque, one of many in Nablus.

Glowing candles at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, West Bank, Palestine. I lit one of these candles for my grandmother: Grammy, I am thinking of you!

The exact location where Jesus Christ was born. It was hard to snatch a photo without capturing someone kissing the star or inserting a momento or letter in the drop hole. Bethlehem, West Bank, Palestine.

Rehovot, Israel

My super sweet Israeli friend Yaniv and I met while living and working in the same residence at York University, where I graduated from college in Toronto, Canada, in 2005. He happened to be getting married in his home country of Israel while I was visiting, and he and his fiancée, Shani, were kind enough to invite me to the festivities. I had such a blast, especially after a very long couple of weeks in the West Bank! L'chaim!

Shani, Yaniv, and family with the Rabbi under the chuppah, getting hitched! Rehovot, Israel.

The happy couple, Shani and Yaniv, with me wedged in the middle. After the wedding, we danced danced danced, ate wonderful Israeli foods and drank delicious wine. Mazel tov!

West Bank Welcome

2009-10-05T03:32:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Ramallah, West Bank, Palestine.

I don't have lots of time or internet access for this blog update, but I wanted to let you all know that I will be volunteering with a group called the International Solidarity Movement (www.palsolidarity.org) for the next two weeks throughout the West Bank of Palestine.

Today, an Italian woman and I are headed three hours south to Suseya, where we will be accompanying shepherds as they graze their animals from the sunrise to late afternoon. Many farmers here in the West Bank have confrontations with illegal Israeli settlers and Israeli soliders while working their fields or grazing their animals, so we are present as internationals to deescalate the situation and give the farmers an opportunity to do what they need to do. I had two days of training when I arrived on Saturday morning and now I am ready, but still a bit nervous, to get to work! Later on in the week, I will be helping Palestinian families with their olive harvest in the Nablus area of the north.

In this moment, there is a demonstration in Ramallah against the Palestinian Authority (also known as the P.A., the Palestinian government) to reintroduce the Goldstone Report to the UN, which documents the human rights abuses committed by Israel during the 'war' in Gaza in December 2008. The P.A. recently announced it would not pursue holiding Israel accountable to these attrocities just now, as Israel has said this would 'hinder' peace negotiations. Politics as usual!

The Palestinian-Israeli dispute here is so complex, it is difficult to grasp the players and the consequences of ancient and modern events; but yet it all plays out in tragic circumstances for the everyday lives of Palestinians in the quest for 'security', land and power... I look forward to sharing my experiences with you after I return from my volunteer work. Salam Alykom.

Greece with the gods

2009-09-22T06:21:00.001-07:00

Hello from Athens, Greece! I am back in the capital city after 10 days of island hopping in the Greek Cyclades of the Aegean Sea.

I accidentally uploaded all of my Greece photos in reverse order, so if you'd like to view them in chronological order, start at the bottom of this post and work your way up. Otherwise, you'll be going back in time as you scroll down.

I feel so lucky to have spent the past two weeks with some of my best friends, Rob Udell and Noel Cyr, and also to have made a new friend, our Athenian host, Miltos Giourgis. While only one of these three guys is Greek, they are all Greek gods in my book! I have thoroughly enjoyed my time exploring the old and new of Athens with Miltos, as well as the sunny beaches and delicious cuisine of three of the Cyclades islands with Rob and Noel. Yamas (to our health in Greek)!

After calling Europe home for the past four months, I am headed off to the Israel and the Middle East tomorrow for an entirely new chapter in my journey around the world. Thanks for tuning in. Shalom and Salam!

The wake of my ferry after saying farewell to Rob and Noel in Paros. Headed back to urban Athens after soaking up the wonders of the Cyclades...

Rob, me, and Noel in Naoussa, Paros, posing at our last supper. We fed the leftovers from this meal (not shown) to the 5 cats and kittens surrounding the table. Stray cats (and some dogs) were a real staple in the Greek landscape, popping out of dumpsters and showing up at your feet when your food came out at restaurants. Aw kitty!

Doing (olive) tree pose in a harbor in Paros, Greece, sporting the most important outfit during this chapter of my trip: my bathing suit!

Noel, me and Rob about to devour yet another Greek salad and yet another liter of locally-made house wine. Paros, Greece.

We got a flat tire near Faragas beach in Paros, probably from all the stones on the rugged side roads. I have my father to thank for getting me an international cell phone during moments like these!

My friend Angela reminded me to S_A_V_O_R my trip. So did this 'Savorit' car aboard a Greek ferry!

Going on a mountain walk in Chalki, Naxos. We saw herd of goats, groves of olive trees, and quaint Orthodox churches along the path. We also tasted some delicious fresh figs right off the trees!

I just couldn't get enough of these quiet courtyard scenes. Chalki, Naxos.

The magenta bougainvillea was so brilliantly colored, I just wanted to douse my life in its electricity!The photo barely does it justice...

The terraced fields of Naxos, Greece--the most fertile of the Cyclades islands.

Rob and me outside a small Greek Orthodox church on our mountain walk in Chalki, Naxos.

If you squint, you can see a row of goats being herded along the mountain pass. We could only hear their bells at first, clanging in the distance. Keep up the great work, ladies! We love your cheese! Chalki, Naxos.

The rocky beach of Mikri Vigla, where the locals would watch for pirates approaching the island of Naxos. The blue and aqua colors of the water were SPECTACULAR! Naxos, Greece.

Just another postcard moment in the Cyclades. This scene captures the capital city of Chora, Naxos, where we stayed for four nights.

Me, Rob and Noel basking in the glow of a Naxian sunset.

We went to the Wine Museum in Santorini, which featured the history of wine making on the island. The exhibit was super cute, with moving parts that were part Disney animatronics, part paper mache. This photo shows the plowing technique used by farmers working with the distinctive volcanic soil.

Living life in the fast lane in Santorini! Don't worry, I am not driving in this photo! We rented cars on all three islands, which gave us lots of flexibility and certainly some thrills on the road (sharp turns near drop-off cliffs, sharing the narrow road with every motor vehicle and creature imaginable, and a close call with an angry Greek lady and her parked motorcycle).

Our sweet pad in Santorini! We rented one of the suites in this vacation villa.

The entrance to an art gallery in Oia, Santorini. I really loved the old, Orthodox paintings, which came alive with the glowing gold accents.

The famous view of Oia, Santorini, taken just after the sunset.

Spreading love and peace in the afterglow of Oia's sunset, Santorini.

Argh! It's One-Eyed Willy from the Goonies, crossing the Aegean Sea during the famous sunset in Oia, Santorini.

Preparing for the highly-anticipated sunset in Oia, Santorini, with Rob and Noel. If you've seen any photos of Greece with white-washed buildings, blue church domes built into a cliff, and alluring turquoise water in the background, it was probably a photo of this town in Santorini at sunset. Tons of people (like us) were gathered on every look out available to watch the sun sink into the horizon. After the sun made its final sizzling drop, the crowd began to clap. Hard to believe this happens everyday and it still gets applause! That's how it should be...way to go nature!

La pura vida. Olive oil, wine, seafood, cheese...well, just about everything on the menu was local. Buy fresh, buy local, baby!

The caldera of the volcano that destroyed Santorini on several occasions, the most recently being 1950. Santorini now looks completely different than it did many years ago as a result of so many eruptions. We hiked around the center of the blast, and later swam in a (luke warm) hot spring that is fueled by the simmering magma under the colliding tectonic plates.

Me, Rob and Noel hiking in the caldera of Santorini's volcano. The heavily-altered land and water in this area is believed to be the location of the lost city of Atlantis. The largest eruption on this site is recorded as the most powerful volcanic explosion in history. There are occasional tremors that rattle the locals, but scientists don't expect any major activity any time soon. Phew! Lucky us.

One of the many adorable kitties that we grew to love in the Cyclades. You can even see another wee orange kitten near my elbow on the bottom left of the photo, peaking out and whispering "I love you...feed me!"

The dramatic cliffs of Santorini.

Greek Orthodox churches like these are scattered around the islands. This was against a cliff as we were approaching the Red Beach in Santorini.

The Red Beach, Santorini, where we swam and enjoyed the plentiful people-watching, an official sport for many Europeans (and Holly Tyson). The colors and contours of the red rocks were amazing.

The church and town center of Perissa beach, where we stayed for four nights in Santorini.

Kisses for the fishes in Perissa, Santorini.

Noel and Rob digging into Poseidon's feast at a local seafood taverna (owned by the fishermen families themselves) in Perissa, Santorini. We arrived on a big festival day to mark the patron saint of Perissa beach. As such, we stuffed ourselves silly with fish, calamari, and more fish, paired with the company of locals and the melodies of live traditional Greek music.

Rob and Noel, arriving in Santorini's port town, Athinios, via a high speed ferry from Athens.

All the stray dogs were always sleeping and lounging lazily in the sidewalks of Athens, including this pooch near the Parliament building. The graffiti on the pillar translates to "Violence from the violence of power", which stands in perfect contrast to the indifferent state of the dog's political motivations.

Greece's National Parliament building, where the elected Senators meet. Like Germany, Greece is about to host its presidential election, so politics were even more visible.

Noel, Miltos, and Rob standing outside the Acropolis Museum, with the iconic Parthenon in the background. Athens, Greece.

The Parthenon, Athens.

Noel, Rob and me in front of the Parthenon, Athens. These two had just gotten off a plane from the US, and here they are frying under the Greek sun like true traveling soldiers! The Spartans would be proud.

Miltos, my Greek host, and me partying it up in Gazi, one of the popular nightlife hangouts in Athens.

Goodbye to Germany and Hello to Rome!

2009-09-12T06:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Athens, Greece!

This blog installment includes the last days of my most memorable month in Germany and my three days in Roma, Italy. I should also say that anyone who is a member of Facebook can view ALL of my photos from the trip, but most without commentary. Enjoy!

How much do I love Germany? Let me count the ways, just in this photo:
1. Green roofs everywhere, featuring plants with shallow roots absorbing the water and the sun's heat to create a cooler environment! (not to mention solar panels everywhere...)
2. Permeable ground surfaces, like on the exterior level of this parking lot, where water can get through without impacting the use of the space.
3. The word fahrt is everywhere! As in ausfahrt = exit, on the arrow on the left. Tee he he.

Beautiful Japanese garden in Stuttgart, Germany.

As I was walking from the U-Bahn station (the above ground metro in Stuttgart) to the mineral therme, I noticed this black crow perched on this statue.

Stephanie and Tobias enjoying the merriment of Stuttgart's Weinfest. Zum Wohl!

One of Stuttgart's many flower vendors at the Saturday market downtown.

Go Greenpeace! Here, they are promoting recycled paper.

Partying it up at Perkins Park, Stuttgart's finest nightclub, with my German brothers: Frank, Matthias, and Michael.

More fun at Perkins Park with Matthias, Michael, Tobias and Frank. My last night of fun in Deutschland...boo hoo.

On the train to Italy, I passed through the beautiful mountains of Switzerland.

A river in Switzerland as I am on the train to Italy.

The columns surrounding St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City, the smallest nation in the world.

The center of activity in the Vatican City: St. Peter's Basilica.

There are large television screens in the circular courtyard from the previous photo projecting the services delivered by the Pope. Here, they were replaying a Mass with Pope Benedict.

Sorry kids, no 50s bathing suits allowed in St. Peter's Basilica or the Vatican Museum! Actually, they just wanted people to be covered appropriately...

Only the best protection for the Pope! No, not condoms (never!), rather Swiss guards dressed in colorful outfits.

This stained glass window featuring a dove is the centerpiece of St. Peter's Basilica. It reminds me of the song "Everybody's Free" from Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet film.

Look up! St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City, Italy.

Entrance to the Vatican Museum.

Photo taken from inside the Vatican Museum with St. Peter's Basilica in the background.

Carousel in Rome at night with the moon in the sky. All is well with the world...

Fontana de Trevi, a very famous fountain in Rome that's swamped by tourists.

Posing in front of the ruins of the Forum of Peace in Rome. You can see a bit of the Colosseum in the background.

The one, the only... the Colosseum! Rome, Italy.

I really loved the modern art statues of women around the Colosseum in Rome, Italy.

The Colosseum, Rome, Italy.

Outside the Colosseum, Rome, Italy.

Another Italian for PACE (peace) in Rome.

Public transit at night in Rome.

It can't be comfortable to ride horses into battle with nothing but a drape around your neck?! Statue in Rome, Italy.

Moving on to Bari, Italy, where I passed this castle on my way to the ferry to Patras, Greece.

About to board the ferry to Greece from Bari, Italy.

Ciao Italia! The sunset in Bari harbor, Italy.

Now, onto Greece!

Addicted to Deutschland...

2009-09-02T09:17:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I think I have an addiction to Germany and its supreme orderliness, not to mention the breakfasts and the landscape! Some plans fell through, so I decided to stay longer in Germany. Poor me...

Danke shön to everyone who has hosted me over the past two weeks (Widmayers, Hemmerichs times two in more ways than one, and Alex and Natascha). I love you guys!

I have taken the train to all of my destinations with a special Eurail/Britrail train pass (okay, I took ferries between England, France, and the Netherlands). I really enjoy the peace of riding the train: listening to music and reflecting on where I have just been, as well as preparing for where I am headed next... Traveling by train is efficient and sustainable, and I would hope that the United States could see this as a way to prepare for the end of oil and the beginning of a much better way to get around by expanding our rail lines throughout the country and in suburbia.

Schaffhausen, Switzerland with the Widmayers

Sonja, me and Klaus at the train station in Schaffhausen. Aren't they gorgeous?

A distant photo of the Rheinfall, Europe's far less tackier equivalent to Niagara Falls.

An ornately painted building in Schaffhausen. Like with so many of my photos, this just doesn't do the artwork justice...

Klaus, me and Sonja enjoying an Italian meal in Schaffhausen. They were so embarrassed to ask the waiter to take the picture, I can almost feel the heat of their smiling faces when looking at this! Typical American, I made them do it against their will, a real nice way to treat your hosts...

Riegel, Germany (close to Freiburg) with Andy, Valentina and Max Hemmerich

Andy and I taking a photo shoot break while biking through the vineyards of Riegel.

Beautiful building and cute little cars on a Sunday drive through Emmendingen, one of the places where Andy and I biked.

Ho Mo's Chicken Ranch? Only goats from what I could see...so random! I spotted this on our bike ride back to Riegel.

Agrarian landscape on the edge of the Black Forest during our bike ride to the pool with little Max.

Rows and rows of red grapes for the local wine making. Not pictured are the rows and rows of white grapes and asparagus!

Andy, Valentina and little Max making spätzle in the kitchen of their spacious apartment in Reigel. Andy is such an amazing cook!

Lake Konstanz (the Bodensee), Germany

Sunset on the harbor in Friedrichshafen.

Sunset on the harbor in Friedrichshafen.

A sunny day on the water of Lake Konstanz. Thanks to Annette Lehmberg for buying me this new hat to protect my face from the cruel, cruel sun.

Another quiet sunset on Lake Konstanz.

A photo shoot featuring the Seabob, a motorized toy that propels you through the water.

Life is good, rocking out to music on the beach!

Olten, Switzerland

The sun dips below the trees along the Aare River.

Aare River, where I enjoyed the view of the Jura mountains and the sandy river beach.

The Swiss rely on nuclear and hydo power for their electricity needs. Not far from here, we could see a nuclear power plant. I didn't spot any one-eyed fish in the river...

Little mushroom elf: are you trying to hide from me?

Back in Stuttgart, Germany (I just can't get enough of this place!)

Back at Palast, where we welcomed Toby (far right) home from the USA two weeks prior to this night out. Matthias is on the left and Stephanie is in the middle. Güte Zeiten in Stuttgart...

Prost!

Matthias, me and Stefan trying our best at the Irish pub quiz night in Böblingen. Crazy to be surrounded by English in the middle of a German city!

Ich liebe Deutschland (I love Germany)!

2009-08-21T02:06:00.000-07:00

Den Haag (The Hague), Netherlands

A canal in Den Haag, the Hague, Netherlands.

Outdoor sculpture in the Hague, Netherlands.

Quaint street in the Hague, Netherlands.

World Peace Flame and Garden in front of the International Criminal Court, the Hague, Netherlands. The Garden featured a rock from every country in the world, and encouraged visitors to walk around the circular path with a prayer for world peace. I sat here for quite some time, meditating on this message.

Very backlit photo of the International Criminal Court (ICC), the Hague, Netherlands. To me, the ICC is an iconic institution of peace and justice for international-scale crimes such as genocide. The Dutch call it the Peace Palace.

Falun Gong practitioner and protester outside the ICC, the Hague, Netherlands.

Very radicalized car in the Hague, Netherlands.

Herzlake, (northern) Germany with Hannelore and Peter

Sitting out on the patio with Hannelore and Peter, something we did often!

Peter has created an amazing train track in the backyard garden.

One night, while we were out on the patio, we heard a loud noise and looked over to see a hot air balloon in the neighbor's yard! So close!

Tiny metal markers showing the names of the former Jewish inhabitants in this home who were killed during the Holocaust.

Haselunne Church in the Emsland region.

Fresh German strawberries at the local market! My favorite!

Romanesco, a hybrid of broccoli and cauliflower--out of this world to look at and eat!

Really cute cheese man at the Haselunne market.

Hannelore buying lots of delicious cheese from the Haselunne market.

Buying supplies for our German BBQ at the local butcher in Haselunne.

Hannelore arranged a private tour with an English-speaking guide for us at the Haselunne Museum. This was an old well basin in the courtyard of the museum.

Playing Cinderella in the fancy carriages at the Haselunne Museum.

Going for a walk along the local river with Hannelore and Chevy, the German Shepherd.

A herd of sheep grazing along the riverbank during my walk with Hannelore.

The composting facility in Herzlake. Dump your green yard waste and kitchen scraps here to be collected and turned into black gold!

This guy was washing his bicycle in a public fountain in the Netherlands...very resourceful!

Heading South to Stuttgart...

Neckarhausen with Ute and Stephan

Nurtingen's old buildings.

A statue outside of the vocational school where Ute teaches English.

Ute biking past her school.

Lots of organic produce at the local biomarket!

Bicycling with Ute into Nurtingen.

Neckarhausen clock tower and to the right, Ute and Stephan's apartment!

Ute and Stephan are active in a local civic organization that opposes high-frequency electromagnetic waves, such as cell phone and radio towers, especially when placed in the middle of villages or heavily populated areas (see below). This banner is hung next to their building as says that the antennas are fatal. For more information on this very important topic, here are some resources provided by Ute:

http://web.ukonline.co.uk/faderuk//

http://antenasmovil.bloc.cat/gallery/17983/17983-97698.pdf

http://www.buergerwelle.de/body_science.html

This cell phone antenna is directly across from Ute and Stephan's apartment. AHHH.

Stephan and Matthias after finishing our Schwabisch buffet in Neckarhausen. SO good, particularly the spatzle!

Stephan, me, Ute and Matthias toasting to a glorious Zwiebelfest in Esslingen--also known as Onionfest!

Esslingen Onionfest 2009, represent!

On a hike with Ute and Stephan...

Ute and Stephan hiking through the mist.

A better location for a cell phone tower: in the middle of a field rather than in the middle of a village.

Standing with a view of Hohenneuffen Castle in the background.

The rows of grapes down below mimic the terra cotta roof of the Hohenneuffen Castle ruins where our hike ended.

A beautiful but overcast view of the village below on our hike.

Grazing goats at the Hohenneuffen castle ruins.

Stephan getting up close and personal with the Billy Goat.

Challenge!

Ute bonding with the goat.

The Earth smiles in flowers and so do I!

Picking my next hosts some Zinnias.

The blumen field where the farmer works on an honor system, trusting customers to calculate the cost of what they pick and leave the money in this container. The farmer didn't want me to take her photo, but she'll never really know...

Ute and me showcasing our freshly-picked bouquets and our love for each other...aw!

One of the many thermal springs in the state of Baden-Wurttemburg, southern Germany.

A bouquet of pasta at a local grocery store.

Ute and Stephan provided a hearty German breakfast!

Ute recycling glass! You go girl!

Hildrizhausen with the Lehmbergs

Annette giving me a tour of Hildrizhausen, her home town, with the church in the background.

Annette and Frank getting fit early in the morning at the local pool.

Genetically modified food? No thanks!

Tubingen, a city known for this view. So lovely!

Gondolas in the river in Tubingen.

I had some of the best sorbet of my life in Tubingen, as seen here with Annette and Frank. Citrus-basil flavored!!! And organic, too!

A perfect zinnia.

Shout out from the Lehmberg family in Tubingen! Frank, Annette, and Jurgen giving me the grand tour through this scenic, academic and historic town where the Green Party has the local seats.

This is a Schwabisch term above a bench and it roughly translates to "he who sits here is the one who always sits here". This part of southern Germany has its own dialect and distinct culture, but this sign is more of a joke than anything.

Annette, me and Jurgen at the castle in Tubingen. Like the hats?

The whole happy family enjoying a drink in the town square, next to the ornately painted Rathaus, or town hall.

The tall cosmos flowers growing in the second floor window boxes caught my eye here in Tubingen.

The tower of the cloister at Bebenhausen, just outside of Tubingen.

The cloister cemetary at Bebenhausen.

The Bebenhausen cloister garden, which featured lots of medicinal and culinary plants.

Frank, the bartender, preparing us a Brazilian version of a mojito.

Haigerloch church and village from the opposite hillside.

Haigerloch valley.

Haigerloch had a relatively large Jewish population until the Holocaust. This was the Mikvah, the bathing house next to the Synagogue, where the cleansing rituals took place.

This building was once the Synagogue for the Jews of Haigerloch, and has changed hands many times since WWII. Now, this building is a museum that honors the Jewish families who once worshiped here.

A plaque commemorating the Jewish families that died during the Holocaust in this village.

The restored stained glass window and center piece of the synagogue in Haigerloch. Very touching.

A monument for the Jews of Haigerloch. L'chiam!

A dramatic grave in the Jewish cemetary of Haigerloch, with vines growing and a certain peace surrounding this tall marking.

The Jewish graveyard in Haigerloch. One thing the Nazis did not destroy was the graveyard in this town.

A grave remembering all the Jews killed during the Holocaust from Haigerloch. Keeping in the Jewish tradition, I left a small stone on top of this monument to mark my presence here and my respect for the dead. What an emotional experience...

A castle which is now a hotel and conference center in Haigerloch.

Looks like the Human Rights Campaign sign! Go equal rights around the world!

For every door that closes, one more opens...

Can I give a shout out to the mushroom capital? Kennett Square!

Church and town center of Rottenburg, yet another insanely picturesque town in southern Germany. If I had taken a photo of every quintessential image of Germany, I would have taken hours more to show them to you! Germany is such a clean and well cared for country from what I have seen during my three lifetime trips to this country, you just can't believe the pride people seem to take.

Deufringen with the Hemmerichs

A gorgeous view from the Schwabisch Alps.

Hohenzollern Castle.

Holly and Hohenzollern Castle.

Lutz cooking sausages over a fire he prepared in wind and drizzling rain! What a wilderness man!

Ellen preparing a moveable feast next to the campfire.

German sausages over the fire...YUM!

Cafe Im Schloss, enjoying cake and coffee with Ellen and Lutz.

Cafe Im Schloss, where Ellen, Lutz and I ate delicious cake and drank coffee after our hike and BBQ.

A night out in Stuttgart with the boys: Matthias, Michael, and Tobias. Welcome back from the USA Toby!

My German brothers, Matthias and Frank, basking in the sunset during the family BBQ at the Hemmerichs.

***

Vielen danke to Hannelore, Peter, Ute, Stephan, Annette, Jurgen, Frank, Ellen, Lutz, and Matthias for all the hospitality you have shown me during my time in Germany. I really can't thank you enough for making me feel like family! Until next time...ich liebe dich!

I am currently in Switzerland and will be reporting next time on Switzerland and some more quality time in Germany. Thanks for tuning in! Frieden...

Paris, Amsterdam and back to England with Timothy

2009-08-06T05:08:00.000-07:00

Before I Begin this Post...

I thought I would let you eager blog readers in on some changes to my itinerary. After some serious thought, I have decided to trim down my trip by two months, mostly for financial reasons, and will now be coming home in time for Christmas (and my 27th birthday!). Instead of spending two months in India and two months in Southeast Asia, I am now spending just one month in each place. For those of you on my original email list, I will soon create an update to my itinerary and the corresponding contact addresses. I look forward to keeping you informed on my blog wherever I go!

And on an even more personal note, I would like to give thanks for my nearly 4 year relationship with Robert Strube, which he decided to end while I was in Paris. I won't lie by saying this hasn't affected me or pained me during my travels, but being in new places to explore, with kind people to take care of me, has certainly kept me occupied and positive. I will always cherish the time we had together and remain grateful for his family's hospitality while I am staying with them in Germany.

Happy reading and thanks for tuning in!

***

Bonjour Croissant! Paris, France avec Timothy

Holly on the steps of the Sacre Coeur Cathedral, with a hazy view of Paris in the background.

Sacre Coeur Cathedral, Paris, France. The area surruonding this church is known as Montmartre and is known for being the artists' quarter, with cafes and shops on the hill overlooking Paris.

The famous Moulin Rouge (Red Windmill), just down the street from our hotel in Paris.

The glass pyramids of the Louvre Museum, showcasing some of the world's most famous art and sculpture, including the Mona Lisa. Paris, France.

Such struggles of love and humanity are common at the Louvre in Paris.

Holly with the Gnome and the Snail, a notable wee statue at the Louvre. Why it's notable, we could not figure out...

Ah, Paris... the River Seine.

Holly and the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, France.

We had to recreate some of the movie Amelie while in Paris, such as cracking the creme brulee with such satisfaction! Timothy and I had an amazing meal at this cozy, authentic French restaurant in Paris.

One of the beautiful stained glass windows of Notre Dame Cathedral, with rows of prayerful votive candles in the foreground. Paris, France.

Timothy just can't get enough of that Bastille--the place where the French Revolution really culminated in Paris, France.

On a boat tour of the River Seine, which runs through Paris and creates the Ile de la Cite, where Notre Dame Cathedral attracts many visitors in the background.

Timothy and me totally schooling the Eiffel Tour--word! (or as the French say: mot!)

A lovely rainbow, or 'arc-en-ciel' as the French say, viewed atop the Eiffel Tour in Paris, France.

Timothy and me on the Eiffel Tour, with a blurred sunset in the background just after a huge storm. Paris, France.

Marie Antoinette created a residence for herself at Versailles Palace, which featured a farm 'as the peasants lived' shown here. Clearly, this woman would not have her cake and eat it, too, as she would be beheaded in front of the very peasants she naively pretended to be whilst on the Palace grounds...

Timothy walking amongst the sprawling gardens and former hunting grounds of King Louis XIV at Versailles Palace, France. A day or two after we visited Versailles, the French President Nicholas Sarkosy reportedly fainted during a jog on the grounds.

White statues contrast the exposed white bark of the sycamore grove in the gardens at Versailles Palace, France.

Versailles Palace, France.

The Hall of Mirrors, where the Treaty of Versailles was signed, ending WWII in 1945. France.

The G-rated photos of Amsterdam, Netherlands

We are...no, not Penn State. We are...gay pride Amsterdam!

The Homomonument in Amsterdam, in memory of all the gays and lesbians targeted and persecuted in WWII and throughout the world over time and presently. The Homomonument is made up of three pink granite triangles, one representing the past, one for the present, and one for the future. The triangle pictured here drops as a dock into the water of a canal, and it is here where people leave flowers in memory of loved ones affected by homophobia. So moving, definitely one of the highlights of Amsterdam.

Typical view of Amsterdam, with bike racks galore and a great cafe scene.

So many bikes in Amsterdam! They have bike highways which make motoring through the city quite speedy.

Tiny gardens growing along this red brick side street in Amsterdam.

Tulip bulb market in Amsterdam.

One of the many tree-lined canals of Amsterdam.

Another stunning canal with yet another church. The city can become quite a labyrinth as it's flat and everywhere you turn there is a canal and a church, so those are not the best landmarks to guide you!

Tram tracks and bicycle tires are not always the best of friends...but they certainly coexist in this extremely transport-savvy city.

Sleep tight Holly and Timothy... Our hostel (in the middle of the Red Light District, yikes) was movie themed and our room featured one of Timothy's favorite films: Taxi Driver. I have never seen it, but apparently it's not exactly a feel-good flick, as you may rightly guess from this blown up image of Robert DeNiro and his gun covering the entire wall of our room. Everything else in the room was painted black and yellow like a taxi. Charming...I guess.

Peace begins with public transport!

The main square in Amsterdam.

A very daytime, G-rated photo of the Red Light District, with a shop on the left called the 'I Love You Shop'. How sweet.

Back to England to Say 'Cheerio Tim!'

I was sad to say goodbye to my brother after being together for 3 weeks and enjoying some of the big sights of the UK and Europe. You will be missed, hermano!

My friends Lisa and Barbara in front of the British National Theatre, where we saw a play called 'Three Sleepless Nights'.

Hanging out on the Southbank of the Thames, watching the bikers assemble for the monthly Critical Mass, where bicycles take over the streets with their numbers!

Barbara and Lisa enjoying a post-theatre pint of Sherlock Holmes Ale at the Sherlock Holmes Pub in London.

Big Ben and Westminster Parliament by night, reflecting off the Thames River.

A mighty Robin Hood forest in England.

St. Mary's Lake in Surrey, England. Mike and I went on a nice walk here.

Mike picking wild blackberries--YUM!

Check out newest post below...

2009-07-28T04:52:00.000-07:00

I just finished a post about my time with my brother in Scotland and England, but because I started the post a week ago, you have to scroll down a bit to July 20 to see it. Enjoy!

Another perspective on Belfast murals

2009-07-22T13:38:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Paris, France!

I am still working on a blog update from my time in England and Scotland, but in the meantime...

I received an email from my cousin Sam (who welcomed me with open arms along with his lovely wife, Marie, in Northern Ireland), and I feel it is only fair to post his repsonse to my photos and commentary of the Belfast political murals--his opinion being, most likely, the overwhelming perspective of Protestants in Northern Ireland.

Here it is:

"I had a look at your blog yesterday in relation to your visit to the Belfast murals. Your IRA guide certainly did his job well in selling the Republican story. The truth of the matter is that these 'freedom fighters' were terrorists. Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom not because Great Britain wants us but because the majority of the people in Northern Ireland wish to remain part of the United Kingdom. The UK and Irish Republic now accept that Northern Ireland will remain part of the United Kingdom until the majority of the people here decide otherwise. What the IRA was trying to do since the late 1960s was to bomb and shoot to such an extent that the UK would withdraw from Northern Ireland even though the majority of the people wish to remain part of the UK. During the IRA's wicked campaign over 3000 people lost their lives in Northern Ireland.

Your blog gives some credence to their campaign which is unfortunate and I regret that this information, without presenting the other side of the story, has gone to all your blog contacts. The IRA's hatred of the British, including blaming the landlords for the famine, can not be concealed.The Famine was due to gross over-population and failure of the potato crop - the landlords had very little to do with it. At the time of the Famine the population of County Fermanagh was almost three times what it is today.

Your Morrow family in Northern Ireland are and always have been staunchly pro British and anything which gives credibility in any shape or form to Republican terrorists is to be regretted.

I thought that I would put you straight on some of these issues as you may not fully understand the background to the IRA's activity and the status of Northern Ireland."

As with most issues, it`s good to discuss all sides; of course, we all have the ability to make up our own minds and decide how we feel. Thanks to Sam for providing some good perspective.

Scotland and England with Timothy

2009-07-20T00:08:00.000-07:00

Scotland SOLO: The Isle of Skye

A photo taken from the train in the Highlands. The scenery was breath-taking!

Kyleakin, Isle of Skye. Just incredible!

Attention Claire and Abby: check out the protected Icelandic purslane, featured here as I was approaching the top of the Old Man of Storr mountain.

Reaching the summit of the Old Man of Storr mountain on the Isle of Skye. After I took this photo, several jet pilots swooped down into the valley, presumably practicing their precision skills. I just about had a heart attack, as I was already rather precariously perched on what was basically a collection of pebbles at the top... plus, you see the planes before you hear them!

Below the magical evergreens at the bottom of the Old Man of Storr mountain.

The town of Kyleakin, Isle of Skye, where I stayed in a caravan at the Skye Backpackers Hostel.

Cafe Arriba in Portree, Isle of Skye. I enjoyed a fantastic salad here, where the vibe was funky and the food choices were outstanding.

My Italian friends Gian Marco and Sara, dancing to Scottish music at the local pub.

More dancing with found friends at the local Kyleakin pub.

Face the West, an incredibly talented Scottish band that played during my two nights in Kyleakin. The young woman on the far right is playing an electronic bagpipe, which looks like a recorder attached to an amp. Oh technology!

Edinburgh, Scotland: Rendez-vous with Timothy

My brother Timothy and I met in Edinburgh, Scotland, after my 3 days solo in the Isle of Skye. I loved the bagpipe music that seemed to float through the air at times... This guy was working hard, sweating out the tunes at a major intersection in Edinburgh.

Atop the Scott Monument with a nice shot of the National Art Museum and the still-active military Edinburgh Castle in the far background.

The architecturally fascinating Scott Monument (which I claustrophobically climbed) on the left and the Balmoral Hotel (most expensive hotel in Edinburgh) on the right.

The Royal Mile (High Street), Edinburgh.

Me, Timothy and my friend Luke on top of Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh. Luke is working on his Master's Degree (soon to be PhD) in Cypriot Archeology at the University of Edinburgh.

The incline of grasses undulate in waves with the wind across part of Arthur's Seat.

Timothy and Luke descend Arthur's Seat, with a nice view of Edinburgh in the background.

Luke, me and Timothy enjoying a Mexican meal in Edinburgh.

The Royal Mile (High Street), Edinburgh.

Waverly Train Station and the Balmoral Hotel.

Another medieval view of Edinburgh. A majority of the city is protected as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Hanging with Luke's student posse after watching a movie in Edinburgh.

Chilling on the student green with Arthur's Seat on the horizon.

Back to Jolly Old England

My friend Stacey and me catching up over a drink in London.

Lisa and me amidst the roses in Regent's Park, London.

A beautiful fountain in Regent's Park, London.

Street art in the East End of London.

Enjoying a curry with Timothy, Lisa, and Mike at Preem on Brick Lane.

Admiral Nelson statue in Trafalgar Square.

The London Eye, Westminster Parliament and Big Ben: the major icons of London.

Street performer on the Southbank of the Thames. His skills were incredible!

Up close and personal with the London Eye.

A quaint little home in Egham, England, where Timothy and I stayed with our friends Mike and Lisa.

Mike Medaglia, Lisa Woynarski, and me (Timothy is taking the photo). We are enjoying a meal at Mike and Lisa's home in Egham.

A mossy roof and a vibrant foliage texture in the foreground displayed on a cottage on the college grounds of Lisa's school, Royal Holloway.

This tree seemed covered in eyes, with a firework display of evergreen at the top!

Mike and Timothy in front of Royal Holloway College in Egham (Surrey), England.

Who loves recycling? I do!

Mike's dedication to his comic art and his birdwatching.

Riding the Tube!

The transition of one artist to the next during this summer-long, 24-hour, live art performance in Trafalgar Square, London. Every hour, a different artist has the platform to do her/his own thing.

London's Portobello Market, where you can find just about anything from antiques to food to a nice piece of bakelite jewelry (Laura!!!).

Timothy and me at the Stonemason's Arms Pub in London.

Annie and David munching on their charcuterie plate at the Stonemason's Arms Pub in London.

David works for the BBC and gave us a wee tour of the recording studios (and of course, the BBC Store, which Timothy loved for not only its selection, but its employee discount through David).

Stay tuned for updates from the remainder of my trip with Timothy through Paris and the Netherlands.

Political Murals in Belfast, Northern Ireland

2009-07-17T08:53:00.000-07:00

Emerald Isle Part IV: Murals of Belfast and International Peace Line, Northern Ireland

Blind to religion or ancestry, the issue of gentrification may affect all sides of the Conflict...

Graffiti in Belfast, N. Ireland.

My one photo of the Shankill Road community, where Protestant Loyalists hold court, especially leading up to Orangemen's Day, observed on July 12. I visited Belfast during 'marching season', the week before this national holiday, a time when tensions are at their height between Protestant Loyalists and Catholic Republicans. Northern Irish Protestants celebrate William the Orange's defeat of King James II in the 1690 Battle of the Boyne, a battle that solidified the 6 county-Protestant rule of Northern Ireland. You will notice a mural celebrating the Shankill Protestant Forces, and many Union jack flags flying in the streets and along residences and storefronts.

One evocative mural along the International Peace Line, a 15 foot tall, barbed-wire frosted concrete tetris of walls that is currently at its longest length since the Conflict / the Troubles began in the 1960s. The walls cut through backyards and side streets to separate fourteen Loyalist and Republican communities from being able to access one another directly. The Dalai Lama planted one tree on each side of the Peace Line a couple years ago to plant the literal and figurative hope for the future generations of Northern Irish. I must say that this gray and vacant no-man's land in the crossing from Shankill Road (Protestant Loyalist area) to Falls Road (Catholic Republican area) felt eerie and heavy with distrust.

Memorial with Irish Republican graves. My Belfast political mural tour guide, Tomas, was an ex-IRA prisoner himself, having been released as a result of the Good Friday Belfast Peace Agreement. Tomas' father was killed during his service with the IRA, and he showed me where his body lay in this very cemetary.

An open field where thousands of poor, starved victims of the Hunger (also known as the Famine) were piled in a mass grave during the 1800s. The crazy part is that Ireland's rich landlords were exporting food during a time when its people were dying in droves.

Tomas told me about every mural we visited in the Falls Road neighborhood, where Irish promote their struggle against British occupation through art. This mural talks about Pat Finucane, who was killed while working as a human rights lawyer defending IRA political prisoners.

This mural remembers the 17 Irish people killed by British rubber bullets since 1970.

Bobby Sands is a very key figure in the struggle for Northern Irish independence. He was the first IRA prisoner to die from a hunger strike. His face is featured on several murals and all throughout the Falls Road community.

A community center dedicated to supporting ex-IRA prisoners and their families.

A Garden of Remembrance for Irish freedom fighters and innocent civilians killed in the Conflict.

Frederick Douglass worked with the Northern Irish against the British occupation after he helped gain the freedom of black slaves in the United States. He was apparently shocked upon arriving in Northern Ireland to see the subjugation and discrimination of Protestants against Catholics, as they would have both been part of the ruling white caste in the US.

Some key images from the Conflict. The tabloid on the left is of Margaret Thatcher, then Prime Minister of Great Britain, who refused to talk with the IRA because of their classification as a terrorist organization, thereby allowing 12 prisoners to die while on hunger strike.

The mural on the left illustrates the solidarity between Palestinians and native Irish, both of whom have struggled for freedom against occupation.

The mural on the left is a rendering of Picasso's Guernica, showing the brutality of war. The mural on the right features some iconic martyrs of the Irish fight for freedom.

The mural on the left demonstrates the connections between the Irish struggle against persecution and the struggles of blacks in Arkansas and the current racial/immigrant backlash in Belfast/Northern Ireland. I really appreciated the cross-connections that Republicans make with other movements around the world.

The final political murals here (not that this has been an exhaustive photo display of the murals of Belfast) show the Basque struggle for independence on the left and the Cuban revolutionary struggle on the right. In smaller letters below Che Guevarra's face, the artist asks Obama to lift the embargo on Cuba.

Boo to Blog Editing

2009-07-07T13:47:00.000-07:00

I would just like to make an editorial note:

The editing on this blog site is incredibly frusterating! I don't mean for the photos and the captions to be oceans apart, as it certainly doesn't look this way when I create the posts. For some reason, the site transforms my tidy entries into these lengthy scrolls of blank space and oddly formatted text. I apologize for the way it appears to all of you, my dear viewers, and hope you can brave through the miles of scrolling and occasional side commentary that awaits...

Enjoy reading...I am already marveling at the scenic splendors of Scotland!

Ireland: the land of my people!

2009-07-02T14:35:00.001-07:00

The Emerald Isle Part I:

WWOOFing on the Robinson's Farm in the Republic of Ireland

Coole Mountain, the highest peak of the mountain range within sight of the farm.

I knew I was in paradise for this was all I could see in every direction from the farm...fuschia foxgloves and green hills galore, speckled with curious cows and wind turbines!

The wonderful Robinson family and my fellow WWOOFer. The family is from England, but came to Ireland to get away from Britain's increasingly conservative edge in the 80s and raise their children in the countryside. Jacquie, the mom, is on the left, next to Orla, the daughter, and her boyfriend, Darryl. Thumbs up is Barry, the dad, and then we have Emiliano, the professional photographer from Milano, on the bottom right. Not pictured is Ben, their 15-year-old son.

Here, in the Republic of Ireland, they have an impressive group of ex-pat friends who share many of the same hippy values as they have: love of the land and self-sufficieny, love of classic rock n' roll music, and love of some great partying!

I arrived on a Saturday evening to the question: "Are you well rested?" Turns out, I arrived on the best night possible, as their friend Andrea was throwing a massive Summer Solstice/birthday party. Good thing I was well rested, because we listened to live music and enjoyed the warmth of the bonfire (and not so much the midges, aka gnats) until 4am in the morning, when Barry and I decided we wanted to head home towards the glow of the sunrise for some well deserved sleep. The rest of the family stayed at the festivities until 8am. Needless to say, I had the following day off from work!

From the likes of things that first night, I knew I was in the right place...

We WWOOFers had our own home! The Robinson family lived here while they were renovating the main home years ago. My room was the window on the top right. On the ground floor, there are two recycled urinals mounted on the wall, planted up with colorful flowers--a good example of the humour and ingenuity the family possess.

Kitty sitting pretty on the wall surrounding one of the family's several flower gardens.

One of my favorite parts of the farm was the dogs, Gordon and Lizzy, who I took on walks most days after work.

A portion of the vegetable garden.

I weeded these (and other) onions for a couple days at the farm, along with weeding the potatoes and doing a bit of housecleaning.

Barry and I were daring enough to go swimming in the Atlantic Ocean in the town of Clonakilty, the closest sea access from the farm.

Gorgeous scenery everywhere you look in West Cork County.

The Emerald Isle Part II:

Dublin, The Capital of the Republic of Ireland

The city has a Parisian feel to it with the river running through the middle.

Dublin's main city center, where you can spot the iconic spire in the middle, behind the statue.

Dublin's (in)famous Temple Bar district, where many pubs, restaurants, clubs and street performers are located.

Red brick buildings line the street, as did gay pride flags!

It's (always) TYSON time!

The Dublin Castle.

You tell 'em Dublin!

Emerald Isle Part III:

Northern Ireland and a Visit with my Family!

My cousin, Sam Morrow, and his lovely wife, Marie, at a photo point in County Sligo, taken after they picked me up from the train station.

My bedroom view from the Morrow residence in Enniskillen, County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland. Their home would be mine for the next week; Sam and Marie took such great care of me during my stay, I truly felt like family.

The Giant's Causeway, Ireland's only United Nations World Heritage Site. The hexagonal blocks are formed from an eruption of lava and the subsequent waves crashing on the cooling rocks, although legend has it that the causeway was formed by the Irish giant, Finn McCool. Just amazing, much like the rainfall and thunder that poured on us after this photo was taken.

Approaching the Giant's Causeway (with pup Molly in tow) in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

The colours of this scene can hardly be represented in this photo. The cliffs of County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

The astounding cliffs of County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

Castle Dunluce, County Antrim.

The cliffs of County Antrim on the northen tip of Northern Ireland.

Dad, this one's for you! Kissing the green at Royal Portrush Golf Course (where my dad is a lifetime member) on the northern tip of N. Ireland.

A recreated Pennsylvania farmhouse, similar to the settlements of many Irish immigrants in the 'New World'. This is part of the Ulster Folk Park, which literally takes visitors on a journey from the harsh and rugged Irish lifestyle in the 'Old World' to emigrating into the 'New World'; from potato-blighted farm, and onto the ship where some did not survive, emigrees finally land in chaotic New York City under some grim circumstances. There, many Irish spread into the country, and on this experience, they place us on a farm in none other than Pennsylvania! We were here on the 4th of July, so just behind this photo was a re-enactment of the American War of Independence.

A wee bit wordy, but so true! Featured in an old one-room school house at the Ulster Folk Park.

Thomas Mellon, the Pennsylvania banker, was born here.

Sod/turf BEFORE: a not-so-environmentally-friendly way to create heat, but opposite this turf farm stands a majestic array of wind turbines.

Sod/turf AFTER, providing the fuel for a nice fire.

The Crown Bar, with its ornate detailing inside and out, is protected by The National Trust.

Enjoying a pint of cider with cousin Sam at the Crown Bar in Belfast.

How did Tim Hortons get here? An ode to Canada...

Belfast's City Hall and a smaller version of London's Eye beside it.

A selection of mouth-watering cheeses at the Belfast market. The gentleman running this stand had a Slow Food apron on! Go snails!

One of the many lochs (lakes) in County Fermanagh.

Waterfall in County Fermanagh.

Mossy river in County Fermanagh.

My cousin Sam is involved in just about everything in County Fermanagh and beyond (he retired as the Secretary of Agriculture to Northern Ireland and has been presented with an award from the Queen, just to give you an idea), including this fish hatchery which he helped start several years ago to rebuild the local wild trout and salmon population. Richard, the hatchery manager, and Sam collect some fine specimens in their holding tanks to show me what they've fostered in this non-profit scheme.

Hefty trout, but not yet ready to be released into the wild.

Clabby Parish, County Fermanagh, where my ancestors worshipped and currently rest.

My great-great grandparents' grave.

Sam and I found my great grandmother's baptismal record from the late 1800s in this church record that is still in use.

What an incredible experience: standing in front of my ancestor's homestead. This once housed a family of 2 adults and 12 children!

The family homestead, now home to cows and a beautiful meadow.

The view of the Clabby Parish and the environs from my family's homestead.

Emerald Isle Part IV: Stay tuned...

Murals of Belfast and International Peace Line, Northern Ireland

Check out new photos of England and Wales

2009-06-28T01:42:00.000-07:00

I have uploaded the photos from Cornwall, England, and Wales. Scroll down to the June 20 post to check them out! Today I am off to Northern Ireland, Enniskillen to be exact, to meet with my family and stay with them for a week. There, I will upload photos from my time at the farm in Cork County, Ireland. I must say that I already miss the Robinson family and long for the serenity of the countryside now that I am in drunken Dublin. At least I got to see all the fun people and their scandalous outfits for Dublin's last night of the gay pride festival here!

More to come soon!

2009-06-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

Greetings all!

I have lots to share with you, but because I am working on a farm without high speed internet, I must wait until I get to Dublin this weekend to post my recent photos and stories.

I am currently in Macroom, Republic of Ireland, staying with some amazing British ex-pat hippies in the gorgeous countryside of Cork County. I really couldn't have picked a better family to stay with here on my first leg of visiting Ireland! I was welcomed with a massive Summer Solstice party which went on until the sun came up.

Thinking of you all and hoping to update you ASAP with more juicy tidbits...much love!