Thursday morning, March 15
When we get to the Atlanta airport, we are told our scheduled flight will be delayed and we would not make it to Rome, but fortunately, we are early enough to get to Newark on time on an earlier flight. I am suddenly thankful that Linda is so a-r about getting to the airport early – and for Jesse for taking us. So we get to Newark and onto the plane to Roma. I think Linda is getting sick of me already….maybe I’m just being paranoid…She did send me to the wrong gate and gave me someone else’s boarding pass. And it was annoying when she told the security people to check out my shoes. And she looked surprised when I showed up on the plane. Nevertheless, she seems resigned to my presence Our flight was non-eventful… Linda slept like a baby but I didn’t fall asleep until just before landing. The highlight was NOT the movie For Your Consideration (I do NOT recommend that for your consideration!) but flying over the Pyrenees was. It was just as the sun was rising and you could see the lights in the little villages at the base of the mountains. And the tops of the snow -covered mountains looked like meringue on the top of a lemon meringue pie – all in the hazy light of morning. Quite a way to wake up. We made it through the immigration (Ciao, baby!) and waiting for luggage we meet a couple from Kentucky who is on our tour coming up. And I knew we were in Rome when I saw a covey of penguins getting into a bus (Lord, I apologize for calling the sweet, little sisters a covey of penguins…Sister Mary Francis, I willingly take the ruler to the back of my hand). We met our driver then onto our waiting car. Just your usual taxi ride to the airport (“there’s the Coliseum! There’s St. Peter’s Basilica! The Roman Forum! You know the usual stuff…) . He also pointed out the Pyramid – and I thought they were in Egypt! I asked him if the Sphinx was nearby, but he – and Linda – did not seem amused….
Friday, March 16th
Since we got in around 9 a.m. Roma time (but my body is at 4 a.m.!) our room wasn’t ready, so we jetted our luggage and walked around the area. Of course our first stop was a little caffe where we had some breakfast and REAL cappuccinos (and not a Starbucks in sight! In fact, it turns out that cappuccinos were invented long ago, in a world without Starbucks, if you can imagine such a thing. No, me neither)…. Across from the Exedra Hotel is one of Rome’s many beautiful fountains at Piazza Republica; this the fountain of the four water nymphs. Breathtaking those nymphs…though it evidently caused quite a stir in 1911…we walked to a large church nearby, Santa Maria degli Angeli, which is beautiful inside. We lit a candle for our families, who need so much prayer….and then to the Museo Nazionale Romano (“lots of old stuff”) which has an outside garden designed by Michelangelo, who was I think a student-artist who hung out in Rome a while back…. I was struck looking at the sculptures how, well, under-endowed the men were back then…I stopped to consider that if I had been there, I might have been a god – or a porn star. Or both. I decide not to share this insight with Linda. I still think I am driving Linda crazy. She keeps trying to hide on me….We then walked to Plaza Margherita, which was named for my daughter…we ran across an ATM machine….and presto! I am wealthy again. We head back to the hotel and get our room. It is a splendid space, and I must say it is the only hotel room I have every had that had a chandelier…it has a large bathroom with a shower and a bath, a toilet and one of those funny toilets (as my grandson Gabe exclaimed at Linda’s house: “Look, Mom, it looks like a toilet, but it’s a sink!” – at which point Linda says to Margie: ”Why don’t YOU explain it to him.” What a coward.) Anyway, we get semi-unpacked and clean up and rest a bit before heading out again. We decide on an approach that I could only call Aimlessly Walking Around Rome. We head up Via Barbarina and then onto Via Sistina. On the way we spotted a mini-billboard with an ad for Pal Zileri with a gorgeous suit, and Linda wanted me to take a picture of it in case we ran across it. Next thing we know we happened onto the Spanish Steps, which is a very popular stopping point for tourists, which we did, and are. Then down the steps to the Sinking Boat Fountain, built by Bernini – and powered, as all the many fountains of Rome, by the aqueducts. Then, lo and behold, the Pal Zileri store was right there (it’s a sign!), and in we went, foolishly, particularly since having resolved to spend little in Italy given the exchange rate (take price, multiply by 1.5, gasp, walk out store). But we were enthusiastically greeted on the steps by Miss Ruby Pavoncello, who was a delightful and energetic Roman who told us the suit in question was ME! Nevertheless, the suit turned out to be gorgeous, and Linda decided that this would be a great suit to get married in. “But it’s pink,” I said! “It takes a real man to wear pink,” She says. Right. Oh well, I figure I’ll be popular In Midtown Atlanta either way. Just as in Buenos Aires, we had the whole store staff in on the action. A couple of the male staff kept saying things in Italian to Ruby, like “Ruby, Bellisimo!” which roughly translated means “Ruby – you sold that crazy American a pink suit? Girl, you ARE good!” Of course, Ruby had other things to show us, all of which were ME, and I did have other functions to attend at the wedding. But this was a great relief to get, since, as you know, the wedding is ALL about what the groom is wearing…..We ask her to ship the stuff since we are going on an excursion, and she says a couple was there this morning doing the same thing – yep, the couple from Kentucky we met at the airport – and he bought the same suit! It’s a sign! And a very small world…full of suckers like me…
From there we went up Via del Babuaino north toward the Piazza del Popolo, which is a large beautiful plaza with a large phallic monument in the middle and churches around it (don’t go there). We found a great little table in the sun at a trattoria called Canova, where we could rest our dogs, get some good Chianti, and some great food (caprese, carpaccio, bruscheta). We then head west to see the Tiber River at Ponte Margherita (also named for my daughter). As we are crossing the bridge a man next to me raises his hand. Thinking this is some sort of protest march, I spontaneously raised my hand as well. As we walk on, I look back for other supporters and see they are a group of Asian tourists and the man with the raised hand is their tour guide. They are snickering. Linda is mortified. I lower my hand as Linda whisks me away….then back east toward Borghesa, we walked through the park area with a great view of Rome. We then continued through the Medici area which had columns with busts of famous folks on top. And everywhere, couples seem to be in a clinch – I guess Rome just does that…anyway, we continued with our way of navigating Rome, which is to point in a direction, go for a while, then re-navigate, since there are no straight streets and street names change at a moment’s notice. There are more curves, turns this way and that than at a Shakira concert. The way taxis navigate the city is truly miraculous. So anyway, somehow we ended back up at the hotel, then rested and resurrected for our dinner. We got a couple of recommendations for places, so we got a taxi and headed out to Piazza di Pietra, which as everyone knows is across from Templo Adriano, of course named after the Rocky movies. It was amazing to watch the taxi driver navigate through the little alleyways; how he knew where to go was astounding. You go through these alleys and suddenly you’re in a hopping area….anyway, we had a martini at a hip and happening little bar called Salotto 42. Then found our way somehow to Piazza della Maddelena for outdoor seating at Ristorante Clemente. We had some delightful house red, veal, and a wonderful pasta and clams dish. We walked a bit, then taxied home for rest and some Italian TV (Oh those Italians!
Saturday, March 17th
It’s 4 am. Sunday morning. I am in the lobby of the hotel. Foolish me, I expected to be the only one here. There is a man sitting with a group of people who is singing. Singing. The place is hopping. There is a group of teenagers dressed in green who have just brought In an older man who looks like he’s had too much to drink…and three guys and a woman in another area who each look like they are trying to make their move…and then there’s me with my laptop and bunny slippers….I finally get a chance to write again, sharing our journey with you. You lucky devils you. Saturday was a great day. I slept in until 11 a.m.!!! Now that’s a first. I guess no sleep the night before caught up with me. So rested, we head out again, aimlessly….we run across Todd and Jean from Kentucky (again!) on the street and tell them of the story of Pal Zileri and the pink suit…then on we went down the little streets, and came across a delightful little place in Piazza delgi Zingari, where we had a wonderful cappuccino and an egg & cheese brioche. I think Linda is enjoying being with me; she is laughing at all my jokes…
There also seems to be a green invasion, then we remember it is St. Patricks Day! Then on to the Areo di Tito, where we were accosted by a man who said he was Julius Ceasar and was going to kidnap Linda. Actually, she seemed ready to go, but I paid the man 10 Euros and got her back. The ruins were amazing…you’d think somebody would fix it up. But it was striking to see stuff that was, well, very old, older than my brother Tom. I assured Linda I was NOT there at the time….We then walked by the Monumento a Vittorio Emmanuelle II, which is unlike anything I had ever seen before. It’s truly massive and overwhelming in both its magnitude and detail, with wonderful sculptures. I don’t know who Vittorio was (I or II), but somebody here was overcompensating for SOMETHING. Actually, it was built in 1920 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the country’s unification. But the Italians call it the “wedding cake” or worse: “the dentures.” From there we proceeded north up Via del Corso, which was shut off to traffic and was just packed with people. We made our way to the Trevi fountain, which was made famous by the movie, Three Coins in ….The sound was deafening, and it turns out it wasn’t the fountain, but the sound of everyone throwing their three coins in…it’s supposed to bring you luck in getting home from Rome, but at the exchange rate, Linda and I figured that’s what we had insurance for….anyway, I proposed to Linda at the fountain. Now I know I already proposed to her, but Scottsdale isn’t exactly the most romantic spot on the planet, so I figured Linda needed a better story….plus, I wanted to propose to her again anyway. Fortunately she said yes this time too, or I’m stuck with a pink suit…. From there we headed west to the Pantheon and then to the Piazza Navone, whose large fountain is under rehab, but was still beautiful. We wandered around some more and I decided that Rome should be called, not the eternal city, but Citte Et Ute Belingus Piazza del losto Uomo, which in English means, “the city of lost people with maps.” Everyone, I mean almost EVERYone, is standing around looking at a map, trying to figure out where they are. But of course, no one knows and no one is asking, each more lost than Britney Spears at a barbershop. Some German bloke actually came up to me while I was looking at my map and asked me where we were and how he and his wife could get to the Piazza Navone. Well, how rude! He actually broke the code. I was so aghast I pointed him in the wrong direction. Some nerve! Well, we finally found a charming little pizzeria with a pizza oven and had a great little prosciutto and mushroom pizza and a thirst-quenching Coca-Cola. Now if you have never been outside the US, well, you have a real treat in store when it comes to bathrooms in public places…first, imagine a very, very small closet. No, smaller. Feeling a bit constricted? Good. Then the next thing you notice is that they have discovered a brilliant solution to the toilet-seat-up, toilet-seat down controversy: no toilet seat! Brilliant that Leonardo. The next thing you notice is that you do not have nearly enough squats in your workout routine. And finally there is the sandpaper they call toilet paper. Oh the joys of diverse cultures!! To be fair, some are worse. We then made our way back to Via del Corso and looked in the shoppes for something for Linda to wear at the wedding (like anyone will notice!). We even made our way back to Pal Zileri to ask Ruby for her advice. When they saw us they all jumped up and down until I told them I had changed my mind about the suit. They started to throw themselves out the window until I assured them I was only kidding…anyway, we got a few recommendations from Ruby and headed out, but to no avail. We at least ended up at a little earring store where we got some earrings for Meez Leenda….I assured her that once you have the earrings, well, the rest is the easy part….We then taxied back to the hotel to get ready for our dinner.
This night was an incredible evening. Linda and I have had some magical evenings, some wonderful meal experiences, but this was up there. Our friend Happy booked us for an early dinner (by Roma standards) at one of Rome’s top ten restaurants – and she even treated us to the dinner (thanks mucho, Happy!). Once again, we are whisked by taxi through these narrow alley ways, risking death and destruction, when suddenly you’re in this lovely little piazza with numerous restaurants with indoor and outdoor seating. It is a lovely evening. We see our destination – Myosotis, which means Forget-Me-Not – which we shall not. We enter and are greeted by a cold fish. Actually, many cold fish and creatures from the sea, sitting there in ice, waiting to be selected for dinner. We are seated. The restaurant is empty, but then we realize it’s only 7:45 – and most Romans are still recovering from lunch…we are greeted by a delightful little waitress, who is well- well, let’s just say the ancient Romans had nothing on her. “What would you like to order” she says. “Breast!” I blurt out. “uh, di Pollo, di Pollo,” I recove. “Per favore,” sheepishly. After we order, Linda says she had beautiful eyes. “Eyes?” I said. “She had eyes?” Linda is NOT amused. Women – who can understand them?
We start with a lovely wine that Judito (the one with the eyes) recommended. El Principe from Tuscany. Upon tasting, Linda says.” Let’s go to Tuscany tomorrow!” Fortunately, I am able to calm her down and the meal proceeds….we have some toasted bread with olive oil that the family (Marsili) produces, and some wonderful roasted vegetables. We then shared the most wonderful pasta I had ever tasted: pasta strips (that Judy said had just been rolled out) embedded with basil, with cherry tomatoes, olives and garlic. All conversation stopped while we immersed ourselves in the experience. In the background we heard a group of men singing, which Judy explained was a group of Irish rugby fans, celebrating their team’s victory – and Saint Patty’s day as well. She looked quite embarrassed by it all.
Then we had our main course, which was Pescato il quazzetto imperiale, which translated means “stuff from the sea even Jules Vernes couldn’t have imagined.” So we dug in with both hands and had our way with the scampi, langoustines, squid, and the fish we had picked out. It was quite traumatic for Linda to pick out the fish, so like a true gentleman, I stepped up and selected the lucky fella. Judy said they were all from Sardinia, but they didn’t look like sardines to me. So I picked out the fish that winked at me, since, of course, he was so fresh….anyway, it was all wonderful, and followed that with a Frabola con goccia di champagne e yurea di lampone y cioccolato, which means “I got your calories right here!” Or mousse. We went to the back of the restaurant to tell Judy thank you (no, really) and she was being held captive by the rugby group, but they invited us in (or Linda at least), and immediately broke into a stirring rendition of their team song, which was so-o-o—o touching. I couldn’t have been more moved by Celine Dion singing the Canadian national anthem…
So off we went, walking around the streets and alleyways, till we ended back at the Spanish steps and the sinking boat was still sinking…but Meez Leenda was getting cold, so we grabbed a taxi, once again taking life in our own hands (or the driver’s) but arrived safely back at the Exedra, where we quickly slid into blissful sleep….. though mine was much more short-lived than Linda’s. It is a Lindsley curse, I’m afraid, but at least I know I am back on my regular schedule, at least til we blow lit again on our trip out to Japan…
Early we head out in our bus to see the Vatican and St. Peter’s Basilica. We head into Vatican City (did you know every country has an ambassador to the Vatican, and vice versa?). The Vatican is amazing. The art collection is fabulous, although Linda had taken to hiding again….the tapestries are spell-binding and the paintings on the walls and ceilings by Raphael and others are breath-taking. But the Sistine Chapel is simply indescribable. You simply cannot take it all in. I can’t believe I have not seen it before now; it is a must-see. St. Peters is also amazing. The scale is truly magnificent, and Michelangelo’s Pieta (done at age 23!) is so delicate and precise and moving….There appears to be a function of some sort about to happen because the St. Peter’s Square is full of rows of chairs, perhaps Pope Benedict XVI is having a party. The Vatican is, of course, the center of all of Roman Catholicism, which has 11.1 billion devotees worldwide, which is a lot of people who don’t practice birth control….we are told no other religion has such a physical center or political center like the Vatican. In Italy, over 90% are Catholic, though few attend church (fewer than 10% of all Europeans even attend any church).
We are taken out for lunch then into another bus to tour the Forum and the Colosseum. By the time we get out, it is windy…and as the guide speaks into our headphones, the rain begins…As Winnie the Pooh would say, “It is a blustery day.” We plough on among the old ruins. It is amazing to think how hold it is- and they WE are! We see where Julius Caesar was cremated, the sight of Marc Anthony’s speech; it is covered with flowers – now the Elvis fans don’t look so crazy after all! As we proceed, it is now beginning to hail marble-sized hail. I urge the group to go on, but the weenies decide to retreat. I tell them it will blow over, but when the thunder and lightning begins, all bets are off. I have to admit the bus felt good….we do the rest of our tour in the bus. We see the Colosseum and the Circus Maximus and the Royal Palace – ruins now, but you get a strong sense of the grandeur at the time. Now I know what Charleton Heston felt like… We finally get home and drift quickly to sleep and get ready to go out to a fine dinner with just the two of us, our last night in Rome. We must leave for Tel Aviv at 6:20 tomorrow morning!
I think last night was the most magical dinner evening of my life. It did not begin well. Our taxi driver was apparently some kind of lunatic who talked to himself in the most demonstrative Italian speaking possible. When we got to our destination, since it was hailing again, our reaffirmed where we were. It turns out the there was a miscommunication with the bell captain at the hotel, and we had been delivered to the wrong restaurant. When he discovered this, off he ranted as we speedily drove (and I use this word very loosely) to our new destination, with loud complaints and demonstrations, none of which we understood – at least the words. Linda looks a little spooked so I bring her over close and get her to talk about something else…when we arrive at the right restaurant, it is as if we are escorted into another world. The Camponeschi is reputed to be the most romantic in Rome, and it fully lives up to its reputation. Located in the Piazza Farnese, next to Campo di Flori, it’s ambiance is settling. We are greeted by eager and friendly staff who take our jackets. They ask how we sail “hail” in English. I make some lame joke about “Hail, Caesar!” and they actually laughed. Now that’s service. We are taken to our table in a delightful little room with murals on the wall, peach linen tablecloths, flowers, the works. The staff is abundant and ever-so attentive. The waiter, who is Moroccan, is most helpful in helping us navigate the menu. We start with a delightful French champagne. At the table waiting for us are little balls of mozzarella and some very fresh bread, all of which melt in your mouth. We place our order, and as we await the first delight, a large black man finds a little nook and starts playing his guitar. It is more than I can bear. Glasses in hand, we stare at each other in disbelief. It is a wonderful way to end our stay in Rome. I propose to Linda again. We both tear up, and again, so grateful to have this magical moment together. We start with our first dish, which is mixed puffed shrimp and fish-stuffed zucchini blossoms. They practically float off the plate. The waiter brings his recommended wine, Podere Castorini 2002 from Abruzzo, outside Rome. Then to our first course, a pasta dish we share: taglioni with lobster and fresh Pachino’s tomatoes. The waiter brings the dish to our table, mixes in some olive oil, and then splits the divides it into two portions for us. The musician starts to sing a song now; his voice is quite unusual, but fits the evening to a T. The evening is simply overwhelming. Next we each have our “mid-course” - an artichoke Roman style, which is a boiled artichoke (mostly heart, but all soft), on a plate of olive oil and garlic. They are delectable. We then venture into our second course, two dishes: grilled langoustines, and deer baked in pastry. I cannot describe how tender these both were. Though we were “coursed” out, we had to least try some dessert. We had what they called chocolate cake with raspberries in some sort of sauce. It was scrumptious. Wanting to stay but needing to get back, we get our taxi and head home. We need to do some repacking as we have had our first potential obstacle – a worker’s strike in Israel. We may have to fly into Jordan and drive into Israel. We get packed and get to sleep around midnight…awaiting our journey…
Wednesday , March 21:
We head out early in buses in sequential flights starting at 6:10 a.m. We still don’t know if we will be able to fly into Tel Aviv or not due to the strike. When we arrive, we are told we will be able to, that only two planes are allowed in – us and the English soccer team. What clout! But we sit on the runway for quite a while and finally take flight around 10 a.m. The plane in front of us on the runway is a plane from Darwin Airlines. No really. I wish I could tell you it looked like some Teradactlyl with wings, but I can’t. Linda and I feel the excitement as we truly begin our tour. Rome has been wonderful; it has exceeded all my expectations, and to be frank, if we went home today, I would be very fulfilled. But there is so much more to come….
Around 3 hours later we arrive in Tel Aviv and get through customs, although they give Linda some grief, but our guides help expedite – she hardly looks suspicious, but she does have a scarf on her head….we get in buses and head for Jerusalem….as we approach the city, one is struck by two things: the hills and the white buildings. It is a remarkably beautiful city. The law is that all buildings must use the same Jerusalem limestone; and that building should be broad and not high. The impact is striking. It is a warm beautiful day. We drive to a kibbutz where we transfer to Palestine buses, since Israeli buses are not allowed in Bethlehem. When we get to the checkpoint, there is a huge wall and an iron gate. Ain’t no one getting in here they don’t want. It is an ugly testimonial, but our guide tells us terrorist attacks have gone down 90 percent since its construction, so I guess that’s a good thing. As we drive through the streets of Bethlehem , I am struck by how small the city of Bethlehem is. Streets are very narrow and it looks old, but not in a good way. We disembark from the bus and head into the church that is built on the place where Christ was born, or at least as legend has it. Then there are three different churches built there: Greek Orthodox, Armenian, and Catholic. Seems a bit silly to me, but what do I know. Anyway, it is fascinating to see the old structures and artwork dating back to the time of Christ… It puts one in awe. The sun is setting and it is cooler as we re-board our buses and drive back to Jerusalem. The city is lit up as we arrive at the King David Hotel, which is a beautiful structure built in the 30s. All sorts of dignitaries have stayed here, from Presidents to rock stars and they have a long hallway with the signatures and dates in stones on the floor…We are glad to quickly get out keys and head up to the room. It has been a real pleasure to arrive and not have to worry about checking in, handling luggage, etc. We are getting quite spoiled I’m afraid. We enjoy getting refreshed and head downstairs for cocktails and a lecture by a Rabbi about Judaism. He is English and quite entertaining. We then head into a large room for a delightful dinner. We meet more people in our group and enjoy sharing different insights and past experiences. We head up to our room where Linda dozes off and I have more frustrating internet experiences….
Since it is late I decide not to take any sleeping aids, as we must get up early in the morning. Unfortunately, I awake at 2 a.m. sopping wet. Not sure if it’s a reaction to the malaria medication I had started hours before or what. I don’t think my systems know which way is up; they’re more confused than I was watching The Departed… But I dry myself up and that’s it for the night. However, I am glad for it all, as around 4 a.m. I can hear the calls for prayers coming in through the open window. I get up and stand at the window. It is amazing. Linda is awakened by it all and we stand there together for a moment and take it all in. Here we are in the city of Jerusalem, looking out over the hills lit up with various lights….the wall of the old city stretches out across our view, and we hear this wonderful cacophony of sounds – birds singing, the fountain below, and the harmonizing of various calls for prayers being broadcast around the city. It is a mesmerizing mystical moment, and I am so glad to share it with Linda. In a very short time we are building a reservoir of shared experiences….But soon the prayers stop, Linda goes back to bed, and I head off to write. It will be time to get ready soon enough.
Thursday, March 22nd
Around 6 a.m. I look out the window and see the ball of sun as it rises over the city. Linda and I stand there and take in the sunrise…Now I can see exactly what we have been viewing out our window: the entire old city of Jerusalem! As the city becomes more drenched in the new sunrise, I make out the shining gold of The Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount. It is overwhelming. We start to get ready for our day, and although my body is in pretty bad shape at this point, I can barely contain my enthusiasm for this day when we tour Jerusalem. We encounter our first obstacle: a buffet of such diversity and proportions that will likely finish me off – smoked fishes, vegetables of every sort, eggs, cereals, meats – well, you get the picture. We feast and then load our buses and are off to the Mount of Olives.
The morning is perfectly clear and the view is spectacular. We can see the entire old city of Jerusalem beneath us, as well as Bethlehem and the suburbs of Jerusalem, again , all in the creamy Jerusalem limestone freshly painted with the new sunrise. And directly below us, in the foreground, is a large cemetery; in the Jewish tradition: though the bodies are buried underneath the ground, each has a sarcophagus-looking box on top of the grave. As if this wasn’t enough to take in, we then take out on foot down the mountain to the Garden of Gethsemane. This is the place where Jesus wept for the city of Jerusalem and prayed for his deliverance, while the disciples fell asleep. The olive trees here are very, very old, and though these particular trees are only a thousand years old, their roots may be well over 2,000, supporting the trees that sheltered Jesus….
We then re-load the buses and head down to the old city. Disembarking, we walk through the Dung Gate and through the Jewish Quarter to the Wailing Wall, which is the one part of the remaining wall of the original temple. I don a yarmulke and head down into the throng of people below. What a happening! Most everyone is in religious dress of one form or another, with various Bar mitzvah ceremonies going on. These groups each have a number of men, a rabbi, the young man of the hour, and the Torah. The women, who are separated from the men by a fence, are throwing candies toward the group, and yelling encouragements, all with many smiles…it is a wondrous feeling just to be there, though I do feel like somewhat of an interloper. I cannot take enough photos. Everywhere I look is another opportunity calling me. I want to stay here all day but I only have fifteen minutes! I stop shooting and take a scrap of paper and offer a prayer of my own, for the health and long life of our families and friends, and for a long, healthy and fruitful life for Linda and I. So, today, somewhere on the Western Wall there is a prayer offering for each of you… On to the Muslim Quarter and the Dome of the Rock, whose gold metal dome shining in the morning sun dominates the scene. As we go by I see a group of young Muslim children heading into the mosque (non-Muslims are not allowed to enter). They each take off their shoes and are shepherded inside. I am snapping furiously; some turn away, but others smile. Again, I am trying not to be intrusive, but I can’t help myself. We then go on to the Via Dolorosa, which is the path that Christ walked on his way to be crucified. It is a moving experience, walking on some of the same stones He did. We then visit the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which is where it is held that Jesus was buried. We see the burial caves where family members were buried and a stone rolled in front, as described in the Bible. There is a Greek Orthodox Church built there and we can hear a ceremony going on. The chanting creates a very eerie and mysterious sound, and we can smell the incense rising. It is intoxicating. The service concludes as we depart. Fortunately, I am hanging back from the group shooting a group of school children, when suddenly the priests emerge from the church. It is amazing, as I shoot feverishly at the scene. They come out, turn up the steps and are gone, followed by the small crowd gathered, including the schoolchildren. I am breathless; what an opportunity – that almost the entire group missed. I catch up with Linda and the rest of our group in the Arab market in the Armenian Quarter. Walking through narrow passageways, and up narrow steps, the sights and sounds and smells are delicious. Again I want to linger, but the tour guide in my headset is getting fainter and I wouldn’t want to get lost in here, although if I was travelling alone, I would love it. We break out into the open air and find our bus. It is only noon, but it seems like a full day already. I cannot believe I have just walked the streets of Jerusalem! We go the Israeli Museum for a spread fit for a king. I tried every dish, and every one was better than the one before. We then walk to the Dome of the Shrine which houses the Dead Sea Scrolls. It is truly amazing to see the actual documents written 2000 years ago. We then head out for the Vad Hashem Holocaust Museum. Around the grounds of the museum are trees, planted by and for “the Righteous,” those non-Jews who helped save Jews during the Holocaust years. One has the name Schindler on the plaque in front, planted in 1961, long before he was made famous by Spielberg’s film. Our first stop is the Children’s Memorial which is a remembrance to the 1.5 million children killed in the Holocaust. You make your way into a room that is completely dark except for five lit candles. Except you are surrounded by mirrors in many facets and depths, placed in just the right way so that it appears as if you are surrounded by thousands of lights. The only sound is the reading of the names, origins and age of each child known to be killed in the Holocaust. It is truly overwhelming. We exit into the bright sunshine. No one speaks and each finds a space to be within themselves. I find Linda sitting by herself crying. I too am so moved by the experience. It may not be right, but somehow the murder of innocent children seems incomprehensible and so utterly hideous. Having grandchildren at such a young age, makes it seem even more real and unforgivable. I cannot imagine ever surviving emotionally and spiritually from such a thing; and in fact millions of Jews have not. But I suppose many more millions find comfort in their heritage. Gearing up for even more, we are ushered into the main hall which is a long triangle with doors on either side as you progress toward the end of the long tube. You begin with a large triangle of actual footage of Jews taken just before Hitler came to power – children at play, people skating, musicians playing, families eating, etc. It makes the whole experience that much more real. You are then taken chronologically through the whole experience, so that you may relive it, as much as is possible, as the families lived it then. The most moving is near the end with the exhibit on the death camps. We walk in and there is an actual barracks from Auschwitz; it almost cripples you as you recognize what you are in. There are not only photographs, but testimonies, and then an exhibit of shoes taken from victims piled together in a hold. Amidst them all you see children’s shoes as well; it is horrifying. We feel like we are racing through the exhibit due to our time restriction; it feels sacrilegious – but we have no choice. The two last sections are striking. The first is a large cylindrical room in which are notebooks with names on them. Each is a notebook of one of the Holocaust victims, with remembrances, letters, testimonials. One of the things that was prominent in the journals of the victims was that they wanted to be remembered. This room is for that purpose; it is also available to each victim’s family members to read and research. The final section was a darkened room with a screen on either end. On the screen on the right was a film that had pages turning, pages from the victim’s actual journals. While a particular journal was being shown, the screen on the right would have a poignant quote from that journal. It is an incredible testimonial to the power of the human spirit. We exit through the glass wall onto a terrace overlooking the valley below. Again, we are all speechless, finding a space on the rail where we can gather, retain, digest, find meaning. It is truly amazing to me that some would say the Holocaust never happened. And it is one of the purposes of this Museum to stand in silent testimony to that falsehood. I am glad that it is here. And that I have come.
We gather our group and find our bus and head back to the hotel. We clean up and gather again for dinner at one of the hotel’s restaurants. Then we quickly head up to our room; it has been a very, very long and emotional day for each of us. It has to be one of the fullest days of my life, and one so immersed in meaning. It will take a long time to digest it all. I am so grateful for it. Tomorrow, we head out after breakfast and an all-day flight (including time change) to arrive in Varanasi, India. We have to fly first to Cyprus (the wrong direction), then to India. This is because no plane can fly from Israel over Arab lands (although from my Saudi trip, I know the opposite is not true).
Friday, March 23
We have a full day of travel and land in Varanasi, India at dark. We board our buses and drive about a half hour to our hotel. It is a very surreal experience: our local guide is speaking to us about Buddhism and enlightenment as I am taking in what I can see in the headlights, which I don’t know what words to use to describe. First of all, people drive on the left side, which takes a while to get used to. But the streets are not lined and traffic is weaving in and out. I take back whatever I said about Roman driving. At least they are weaving in and out going the same way. Here the “center lane” is barely a concept. And the streets are full of every imaginable mode of transportation, from trucks to motorcycles, but mostly bicycles and bicycle rickshaws (the local taxis), and these little minicars packed with people. And then all of a sudden there’s a cow or a goat or a water buffalo. Everyone is moving fast but the animals. On either side I can see these little huts, wooden boxes, garage-looking shops. It is dark but there is no absence of people. It is obvious we have gone from a relatively small country (Israel) of 6 million to one of 350 million (Varanasi is 3.5 million). The place is teeming, though I haven’t seen anything yet. We finally arrive at our hotel, but I have retained very little from our “lecture.” But we are all tired, and glad to be re-united with our “large” suitcases, which we had to leave on the plane before Jerusalem. We are staying at the Raj Ganges Hotel in Varanasi, which is a 40 acre compound. Certainly a luxury hotel by Varanasi standards, but not overwhelming. But the staff cannot be more friendly and helpful. We are ushered into a buffet, one of three we will have here, and the basic concept is this: put together a menu of India food; fix every dish. I try it all and it is all good. I am reminded of my brother David, who was sitting at the table after my father’s funeral. He was just sitting, and when asked why he wasn’t eating, said, “There’s nothing here I recognize.” Now I know how he felt. The only name I recognize (and dish) is dal, but it is all delicious. We head up to our rooms and are off into dreamland. Well, a couple of hours for me anyway. FYI we are 10.5 hours ahead of EST.
Saturday, March 24
We are up early to get our laundry ready for pickup. This is the best place to have this done: since we were only allowed one large suitcase (in addition to the carry on and backpack – both of which they sent us), clothing management is not insignificant. Our first stop is a visit with the doctor who is on staff and flies with us everywhere. They have found out that Egypt is going to require us to have yellow fever vaccinations since we are arriving there from Ethiopia. It is a last minute change, so this we dutifully do. Of course, before I left I got shots for polio, diphtheria, tetanus, and I don’t know what all – I feel more shot up than Courtney Love….We have another breakfast of incredible diversity and then load onto our waiting three buses. Varanasi is another holy city, the birthplace of Buddhism and Hinduism. But in contrast to Christianity and Judaism, these religions are not monotheistic. In fact we are told Hindus have over 300 million gods. I think I have a chance here, I tell Linda. She is NOT amused. Varanasi is a city of 3 million Indians. I think Custer would not be comfortable here. And at least from my viewpoint, most look like they live marginally at best. The city is unlike anything I have ever witnessed. The morning is absolutely teeming with people, in one surreal scene after another. The city is dusty and dirty, and the buildings are rudimentary. Many merchants are perched in little boxes on stilts; they sit in their boxes and sell their few wares. The traffic thing is unimaginable; it is incredibly intense. There are a few street lights , but they have no lamps in them. Making a turn is an exercise in defying death it would seem. But they all seem to manage incredibly well. Dodging cows is also a fun exercise. We see cows and bulls sitting the middle of the road. Since they are sacred, no one disturbs them; they seem to know their position and take full advantage. We magically arrive at Sarnath, which is the site of a temple built on a very holy site – it is the site of the banyan tree where Buddha became enlightened, after sitting, well, for a very, very long time. I, too, would like to be enlightened, but quite frankly, I can’t sit that long. As for Linda, well, fuggetaboutit; she can’t sit for three seconds. We remove our shoes and go inside the temple. It is quite beautiful and on the walls are the stages of the life of the Buddha, who lived around the third century B.C. I think. I apologize I cannot provide more accurate information. This journey is so intense, it is hard to retain facts in my senile brain, but it is the impressions I see through the lens of my camera that will haunt me forever….We then head out to a museum that houses some of the oldest sculptures of early Buddhism. In contrast to the teachings of the Buddha, who lived before Christ, in around the third century A.D. the Buddhists began to develop other gods, and well, it just seemed to get out of hand. I would think some consultant would come in and help them cull out, well, some of the more marginal gods. But I guess if I was living like what I’m seeing, I’d want every god I could find…We then go to a large cylindrical structure perhaps 100 feet high and 30 feet in diameter called a stupa and they are built to commemorate a holy site. As we approach it, we see some Sri Lankan monks in their bright orange robes circling the monolith, which they do as part of their pilgrimage. It is a Kodak moment. Or Canon. I slip away from the group for a moment to shoot. Most everyone here seems intrigued by my camera; they seem flattered by the attention, though some look at me with no expression whatsoever. But I love to photograph people, and the faces I see here are so different and each one unique – and the colors of the women’s clothing is spectacular. Set against the dirt and dust and old buildings; well, it is overload. In fact, that is how I would describe Varanasi. And there is still so much more to come – even in our short stay.
We then visit a silk weaving “factory.” This is how about 1/3 of Varanasians make their living. We visit a room where there are five large looms with men working them. The looms look like they are very old. Everything is done by hand. We then visit their “showroom,” where we are shown unbelievable bedspreads, tablecloths, wall hangings and scarves. We want to buy things for all our friends and families, but our luggage restrictions make that nearly impossible. We do buy a few scarves. The fabric is so beautiful, so delightful to the touch, and feels like air. And they take American Express! Outside is a snake charmer and a man with trained monkeys…We head back to our hotel for a wonderful lunch in a building on the compound. I am offered a cold beer (well, sorta cold). I long for coke with ice, but alas it is not to happen for at least a few days. Poor me. The group is to visit a bead factory in the afternoon, but I am drawn to the streets. Linda and I make arrangements to have a driver take us about the city. We tour more areas of the city in our car. Then we are taken to another place of textile “production.” It is not what I wanted to see, but it is fascinating. In this building of many rooms we see families working and living. The only light in most cases is sunlight in the windows and doors. Many work at the door where they can see. Children are running about. We make our way through narrow passages, as he shows us people doing various parts of the design and making of the textiles. We break into a large area in the middle of the building, with trees, piles of bricks from broken walls, children playing, and quite a few goats. There is a three day old goat under a banyan tree; I’m not sure who he was in a previous life, but he’s awfully cute in this one (Buddhists and Hindus believe in reincarnation). I take pictures of some of the children, but I learn that if you do, they will then pester you for rupees, and won’t leave you alone. It is not a pleasant experience. I take a picture of some teenagers, who seemed pleased, then one indicates he’d love to have my Nikes. But we both smile at each other. We are then ushered into another showroom. We try to beg off but we don’t want to offend, so we let me show us a few things. We have been snookered. But they tell us it is a cooperative, so Linda insists we buy at least a couple of scarves. They are not ecstatic, but most gracious. We then head out for a few other sites. Our driver asks if we would like to see the fish market. I’m thinking beds of ice with all different kinds of fish. What a dummy. He takes us next to the bridge and points to two women. “This is fish market,” he says. We are dumbfounded. Each woman has a small bucket half-filled with water and swimming inside are what look like catfish, all about 6 inches long. Next to one woman is an area where she will clean them for you. It is so covered with flies you can hardly see the surface. I venture down to take pictures; Linda chooses to remain up top. Probably the better choice. But I do enjoy shooting the vegetable vendors and their carts. At one point I am standing on the narrow median shooting the traffic on both sides as they come by. Everyone seems quite amused by this; who is this crazy white man standing in the middle of the street?? WE arrive back at the hotel. We have a couple of hours before we must report again. My body is crying out for some sleep, but I can’t lose this opportunity. I send Linda off to rest and head out on foot to the streets around the hotel. I am in heaven. I am shooting amazing scenes of life on the street in Varanasi India! At one point, I stand behind a barricade in the middle of the street and shoot as people are streaming by – a couple with a child on a motorcycle – she in Hindu robes. A man pulling a cart of potatoes. Rickshaws by the hundreds, piled with people. I walk on, passing hundreds of little merchants, some cooking things, others just sitting and waiting for customers. Most seem pleased to have me take their photos. For close-ups I always ask permission, though no words are uttered. Here and there amid the incredible traffic sits or stands a cow, totally unbothered by all the commotion around her. It is sensory overload – in spades. But I am thrilled to be here, to be doing this. Later, I describe to Linda the incredible creative experience of shooting with my camera, framing, capturing. When I am in this state, it almost matters not that I am actually capturing a photograph; it is the magical and mystical moment in time. But my time has run out and I must return to the hotel to get ready.
We gather at five p.m. for a bus ride, then on to the rickshaws. TCS has provided each of us with a high quality Indian outfit to wear to tonight’s feast. Every one is different and it is quite a sight to see everyone so regaled. We then wind our way through the streets. This is fun; now we are really IN the street traffic. Cars are honking to let us know they are passing….it seems we will run into other bikes, passengers, or animals, but somehow we manage to meander safely. We are headed for the Ganges River, which is a holy river where the Hindus and Buddhists come for various festivals and rituals, as well as to cremate their loved ones. The closer we get to the river, the more crowded the streets, the more people on the sides of the streets selling. It is even more intense than earlier, if such is possible. We finally get out and walk a bit more till we see the river in front of us. What a scene! We make our way down to our boats, where we are all given little cups with fresh flowers and a small candle inside. A holy man comes on board and blesses us one by one putting a liquid dot on our foreheads. As we push out, we all put our candles in the river. It is quite a sight with all the lit candles floating around us, here in Varanasi, here on the Ganges River. We are grateful for our insect repellent and our malaria medicine as there are lots of mosquitoes. On the steps coming down to the river, which number about 200 probably, people are all about. It is a festival of some sort, and the place is lit up, there is chanting, incense burning, and many people out in boats to witness the scene. I look at Linda and we smile at each other; what an incredible moment. When I proposed to her at that sunset in Arizona, I asked her if she would share the rest of her sunsets with me. Well, this one will stand out as one of the most remarkable and special. I kiss her and hug her and tears well in our eyes; to be here – and to be with her here, well, it is so very, very wonderful. My heart is full. What an absolutely indescribable day!
We make it back to our hotel and have another treat in store. We are taken by rickshaws to another site on the compound – the Nadesar Palace, which was the guest house of the Maharaji of Varanasi. It is lit up with candles and lights. As we arrive, women on the balcony shower us with rose petals, and there is a ceremony going on with men chanting. We are then ushered to the back of the building where they have tables ready for us, surrounded by more food than you could imagine. They also have a stage set up and have some performances. It is lovely, but I am so spent and it is hard to fully enjoy yourselves after what we witnessed today. And we are very, very tired. At the end of each day Linda and I look forward to curling up together, however momentarily, as we drift off. It is OUR meditation. Linda is my banyan tree, my Shiva.
Sunday, March whatever day it is
This is a morning I will remember forever. We are up at 4 to get ready (technically I am up at 2 again). We are in buses by five a.m. We are headed back to the Ganges to witness the morning rituals. We get close by bus, then traverse the remainder on foot. It is already bustling in the early morning light. Street vendors are already in full swing, especially those selling bright flowers and petals. We get on our boats again and launch out onto the Ganges as the sun begins to rise over the river. It is spectacular. On the steps people are beginning their morning ritual of bathing in the Ganges to wash away their sins. This is unthinkable to us as the river is incredibly polluted; but the faithful seem impervious – and perhaps are. It is more than you can take in, all the brightly colored ladies and men on the steps. On the opposite side of the river, the bright orange disk of the sun slowly rises. I don’t know which side of the river to shoot! Linda and I look at other in total amazement – the sights, the sounds, the smell of incense. Simply incredible! We are pushed down the river for a ways and see more areas with steps, though smaller, along with cows, goats, dogs and monkeys flitting about. We come back upstream, get off and head back for the buses. I am still shooting, wanting to stay, but Linda is pulling me to stay up with our group. We get back to our bus and collapse in the seat, totally overwhelmed by what we have witnessed.
As we head for the airport to leave Varanasi we are still a little shell-shocked. It is so very, very different from anything I have seen before. I’ve always said that it is SO expanding to visit other cultures, but this one takes the cake.
We go through security and onto our plane. It feels like coming home. Our friendly staff is costumed in Indian dress to greet us. It is very nice…but I am asleep almost before I sit down, and most of you who know me will have no trouble believing that. We are travelling all day again, on our way to Osaka. Mostly we sleep, but listen to lectures and see a documentary on Zen Buddhists. It is all very interesting, but I am fading in and out as I recuperate…but as we approach Osaka, we see the sun setting out our window and the beautiful mountains and seas around Japan. We land, go through customs again and are whisked onto our buses for our 1.5 hour trip to Kyoto, a most holy city for Buddhists particularly. Linda and I take turns poking each other to keep us awake so that we have some chance at a good night’s sleep, as the six hour trip has brought us to now 14 hours ahead of EST (3.5 hours ahead of Varanasi). We get to the Westin Miyako and quickly shower and have a late buffet dinner waiting for us. We are doing our best to stick to local cuisine, but I see Japan will test our resolve…but the sake is wonderful…
Monday, March 26
After breakfast we begin our tour of Kyoto, Japan. Kyoto is a spiritual center of Japan. It is a modern city of 1.5 million people, Japan’s sixth largest; it is very clean and surrounded by mountains, and it is full of Japanese people. Well that sounds funny, but I see no diversity at all; the only crackers I see are folks on our trip. Linda is a giant here, and the only blonde I see over the two days we are here. So there are over 1,600 Buddhist temples in Kyoto, and we are going to see as many as we can in one day, by cracky. We drive past the temple used in The Last Samurai. We get out of our buses and walk up a narrow street with shops on both sides, and arrive at a beautiful temple called Kyomizu Temple. It is a large complex, with large beautiful structures and well-manicured grounds, with streams and ponds. The cherry trees are in bloom, so it is quite a setting. There are several icons that people are supposed to touch for good luck . One is a chain that you touch for good marriage. How fitting. Linda insists I go fondle it. No way I’m doing that. It felt like any old chain….Then we load our bus and head off to the next destination: Sanjusangen-do Hall, which in Japanese means “one long-ass building with more statues than you can count.” Actually, it is the world’s longest wooden building dating back to the 12 century, which the older of you readers may recall. After removing your shoes, you enter the building then turn the corner to the long hall. One is immediately awestruck by about 8 rows of golden statues as far as you can see. Technically, there are 1001 statues of the Buddhist deity. At first blush, they all look identical, but because they were done by different artists, they have slight variations, but all carved from Cyprus and painted with gold. Actually, they are not Buddhas, but Kannons, which are Buddhist wannabees. In the middle of the building sits a giant golden Buddha. And to top that, in front of all the rows of the Kannons, are 33 large sculptures of guardian deities, guarding the Kannons. They are all fierce-looking. It is all an incredible visual masterpiece. On the other side of the bullding we an see a large yard; here they had archery contests with long bows, which we can see in display cases along our walk.
After our lunch, characterized by funny-looking food and much sake, we head off to the Nijo Castle, surrounded by a large moat. It was built in 1603 as the Kyoto residence of the first Tokugawa Shogun, Ieyasu. Inside is a fabulous structure, the Ninomaru Palace, which translated means “who made this house with noisy floors?” Actually one is immediately struck with the singing floors, which are known as the nightingale floors; they are constructed with large nails that protrude from the bottom of the floor planks and rest against plates of metal on the floor studs. Thus, when anyone entered the residence, they would be discovered. Broken glass might have been easier…. The palace is simply majestic in its scale and simplicity and artwork. It has very large rooms all with sliding panels. Outside is a beautiful garden with waterfalls and fish ponds and large stones. The pine trees look like large Bonsai trees. It is so wonderfully peaceful. But we move on to our next stop, the Ryoan-ji Temple and its famous rock garden. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I like my brother Tom’s rock garden much better. But our final stop is the clincher – the Golden Pavillion. As we walk up the path we are taken aback by the sight before us. There is a large pond, and then at the back is a multi-floored structure completely covered with layers of gold. The sun is setting so it strikes the one side in brilliant shining gold. It is truly breathtaking. It is a fitting end to the day.
Linda and I have a choice of restaurants tonight and we choose one called Kanugi. It is a great choice. Basically, it is the model for Shogun or other Japanese-style grills in the U.S. We order our meal of shrimp, lobster, and beef. Linda is very excited until they bring out our platter of our soon-to-be meal. The shrimp has a long toothpick through it; it is moving. The lobster, cut in half, is still twitching. He places the shrimp in the hot butter on the grill and holds it down with his utensil as it struggle to exit. I think, between the fish market in Varanasi and this, Linda may never eat seafood again….To me, the most interesting thing was that after cutting of the head and tail, he cooks the shrimp and then cooks the head, pressing it. I have never eaten a shrimp head before, but it was crunchy and delicious. Then the waiter brings us a special treat, he says. Gold sake. It is sake with what looks like golden flakes. Turns out it actually IS gold, but the strange thing is that it is so thin you have no sensation in your mouth. After the shrimp and lobster, he serves us the beef; it is like buttah. Anyway, an incredible meal. We’re off to bed quickly and off to sleep – for a couple of hours anyway. Somehow I think my system is trying to get back at me by not letting my get a good night’s sleep. But at least I have time to work on this journal…..
Tuesday, March 27
We have hit the “Tour wall.” WE need a break from buses and tour guides and large groups. We decide to tank the planned trip to Nara and do our own thing. We have breakfast at the hotel (one interesting thing: the man cooking omelets did so with chopsticks. Try that, Brother Tom!). We take the shuttle into downtown Kyoto for walking and shopping. We are still looking for a dress for Linda and it would be nice to get a little reminder for our loft. There is a central street for shopping in Kyoto and we head into a couple of department stores. We might as well be in Atlanta as for the offerings. We also are looking for a kimono. One of the most striking things about it here is that very, very few people speak English – I mean zero English. Even the young people. We had this surreal experience in the store of asking the young counter girl if the store had kimonos. “Kimonos?” I enquired. She looks at me puzzled. “Key-mow-noes,” I repeat slowly. “Key-mow-noes?” she copies, still with a puzzled look. She brings over another worker. “Key-mow-noes,” I patiently say again. “Key-mow-noes,” they mouth to each other. Then they both look at me with a puzzled look like I am asking for a long-lost text in environmental management or something. It was amazing to us how difficult it was, not being able to order, etc.. I also realized that no one was making eye contact with us, which was just the opposite experience in Varanasi, which made the latter experience so much more intense. Anyway, we made it to the antique/art street and saw some great old stuff. We found our way into a 250 year old House, with sliding panels, etc. They had some amazing stuff hundreds of years old, from kimonos (English: key-mow-knows), to Samurai stuff, to old porcelain. We were very tempted but thought the better for it. However, later we happened onto another store and ended up getting a couple of old wall banners for our loft, and I unearthed some 200 year old carved ivory beads that Linda went crazy over. And finally we did find some 200 year old Japanese coins I got for my grandkids who collect international coins¤cies. It was a full day and we made it back to Kanugi for dinner again. Then off to bed as we needed to start at 6:45 a.m. on our trip to Chengdu, China, then on the next day to Tibet, which I’m very excited about. We have already started taking our high altitude medication in preparation, so we’ll see how it goes there. It seems like every few hours, Meez Leendah is sticking some sort of vitamin or pill in front of my face. But I appreciate her care and love manifested in these little things.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
We had our 1.5 hour bus trip to Osaka and then our five hour flight into China. It was absolutely beautiful flyover Japan, South Korea and into China. Beautiful islands. I reflected on how my father and many others flew over these waters under VERY different circumstances. We have several lectures on board, one on Islam and another on Toaism and another on China. They are interesting and in between I am able to get at least a little sleep. Linda is a great travel companion; we are always making each other laugh; it’s great therapy and helps a lot in some of the more monotonous periods. We are having so much fun. We arrive in Chengdu and are bused to the Panda “Reservation.” We are bowled over by Chengdu. We were expecting some little town; it is a bustling, modern city with more high-rise apartment buildings being constructed than I have seen in my entire LIFE. There are lots of bicycles and motorcycles, but lots of cars and trucks as well. We learn it is a city of 10 million people. It also turns out that Chengdu is the home of two things: Pandas and Szechuan food. WE plan to enjoy both in our one overnight. We get to the Panda Breeding Center, and get to watch baby pandas play, and then are totally entertained by two adult pandas horsing around with each other. Then, for a “slight” donation, you can go in and get your photo taken with one of the Pandas. I walk across the moat and get behind the Panda. I rub his head as the staff person uses my camera to take my picture. The panda decides he wants to wrestle, so he suddenly turns around and grabs me. We go rolling in the pen as my group takes this as a Kodak moment. Finally I pin the Panda and he gives up. Okay, so I just got my picture taken….a guy can fantasize can’t he?
Tonight we have a great original Chinese dinner. It’s time to go to sleep because we must be in the lobby at 5:30 tomorrow for our 2 hour flight and 1.5 hour bus trip to Lhasa, Tibet…we may be out of connection for a couple of days until we get to Delhi, India….
Thursday, March 29
We head out early as we board our Air China plane. We are so excited about flying over the Himalayas and going into Tibet, and visiting Lhasa, the “City on the Roof of the World,” and abode of the Dalai Lamas, and center of Tibetan Buddhism. The mountain range is so majestic, one peak after another. And amazingly, in some of the valleys are little villages of sometimes 20-30 huts, sometimes larger. How they can forge out an existence there is unimaginable, but yet they do. Our 1.5 hour flight nears its end as we come down into Lhasa, come down to 12,000 feet that is. We have been very prepped about the lack of oxygen; we are more than a little bit apprehensive, not wanting to miss this, or cut down on our itinerary in any way. So as soon as we arrive we all are walking in slow motion; it is a funny sight, but wise nonetheless. Contrary to our expectations it is quite warm. In fact, we find out that Lhasa never keeps snow more than a day because the sun is so hot here. We de-plane, go through customs, and then onto buses waiting for us. We have still another 1.5 hour bus ride. Along the way we see yellow ducks, people pulling carts, colorful houses. It’s also interesting to see the piles of dung, which they use for heating in the winter. We make a stop along the way to visit an SOS school for children. Basically it’s an orphanage where groups of 10 or so kids are cared for a woman who has given herself to this work. They have the kids lined up for us, and they’re singing for us. They all look like they’re having fun, so we say hi and take photos. We divide into groups and each visit a living unit. It is quite rudimentary but clean. It is quite touching. Linda suggests to me that we make a donation and inquire about helping hereafter. Which we do. That’s my Linda; it’s one of the things I love about her. The kids also do a performance for us, which is quite charming. Then TCS makes a contribution to the school. Then we use the bathrooms. I say this because our new challenge is what I will call bathroom management. You see the Diamox (high altitude pills) are a diuretic; at the same time we are told to drink lots of water. Now remember what I said about the bathrooms in Varanasi? Well, they got nothing on the Tibetans. So whenever we come across “reasonable” facilities, well you better take the opportunity. Anyway, we arrive in Lhasa; again I am pretty stunned – it is a semi-modern city with nice buildings and factories (I’m amazed to see a Buick dealership). We are told that most of this modernization has been done by the Chinese in past few years. But it is full of people on bikes, walking, and with the bicycle rickshaws we saw in Varanasi.
We arrive at our hotel. It is huge and only two years old – the Brahmaputra Grand Hotel. Well, you would have thought we were the Queen of England. Firecrackers are set off, and there are ladies dressed in traditional garb lined up. They have traditional offerings that we are to take and throw over our shoulders for good luck. One is a bowl of water. The woman in front of me takes her water and Splat! right in my face. (Grasshopper, must remember old Confucius saying: Never stand close behind woman with holy water.) Inside the lobby it is the most colorful hotel I’ve ever seen. And they tell us everything is for sale. It truly is like a museum/hotel, full of new and antique merchandise. The staff is incredibly friendly and anxious to please. We have a brief lunch of –guess what – Chinese food, then off to the Tibetan Museum, which was fascinating, especially with its original costumes and implements. We buy a book on Tibetan clothing and ornamentation. Then it’s off to the Johkang Temple, the most sacred and active of Tibet’s temples. While the temple was very beautiful, the scene outside was far more interesting to us. As part of their pilgrimages, they circle the temple (this is called the Barkhor), while visiting and chanting, some with prayer wheels and prayer beads. Every face is fascinating. The people are all dressed differently depending on the particular type of Tibetan Buddhism they practice and/or where they come from. Most are very short, but those from east Tibet are like giants. And then all around the temple where people are walking are merchants selling their wares at the Barkhor Market. An incredibly delicious scene. I am, of course, shooting like crazy. Most seem pleased and smile at me; some avoid the camera and I try to respect everyone’s inclination. WE are also on a quest to find a particular kind of bead, eye beads, which are mined in Tibet alone. They are treasured by families and passed on from generation to generation. We finally find a back room with beads hundreds of years old. Linda is in heaven. I let her pick out the ones she wants the most, then I bargain with the merchants. Some we walk away from, but we get the ones we really want. It is so fulfilling to see Linda so happy. Unfortunately (for cash flow) we run into one of our guides who points us to another store where we do more damage, but then, when are we likely to be back in Tibet again?? But my enjoyment is shooting the people, and I do it as long as I can before we must leave. We find our way to the main street and get a taxi (which costs 10 Yuan wherever you go; that’s about $1.20). We make it in time for our buffet dinner. The best dish is pumpkin soup, with just a swirl of yak cream on top. And the chocolate ice cream was amazingly creamy – but from cow’s milk.
Friday, March 30
We take a bit of a later start today, trying to pace ourselves. We are very excited; today we visit the Potola Palace, an incredibly massive structure set against the mountains; unbelievably imposing. It is the former home of the 14th Dalai Lama, and the burial sites of most if not all of the former Lamas. Their crypts are the most amazing gold and stone-covered sculptures you have ever seen. One after another, each surrounded by amazing gold sculptures of Buddhas, mandalas and other items. This structure is truly massive. We have been forewarned; it is three hundred steps up 13 floors; many don’t make it. I try to get Linda to sprint it with me; she is NOT amused. But at least she agreed to take my picture as I ran by…Most make it to the top; most humbly, but Linda has to make a show of it…anyway, it truly is magnificent in its simplicity and beauty. Unfortunately we are not able to photograph inside. At the top we have a panoramic view of Lhasa. Then we head back down to our buses. We take a brief stop across from the Palace for photo ops. It has been an amazing experience; I feel so privileged to be here.
We head back to the hotel . We have found out that the spa here has incredible deals on massages. We decide to get foot massages before lunch. What a hardship! We have a couple of cute, young Chinese girls give us these incredible massages, with various herbs, creams, what have you. My feet have never been more pampered. All for something like $20. Then it’ s lunch with more Chinese food, then out again to the Sera Monastery, which we tour. Again, the gold sculptures of the Buddhas and other protective deities are breathtaking. We then go into a small courtyard to await the coming of the monks. We hear a bell ring, and then they begin to enter, all dressed in their burgundy garb. Then a bell rings again and they begin debating in pairs or threesomes. Usually one is standing and the other sitting. It is quite a scene to behold; the one standing is doing this movement like he is saying “gotcha!” or “Well, how about this?” Can’t explain it. In the mornings they have classes, and this is a time to test each other and have fun. Of course, we have no idea what they’re saying, but it IS entertaining. We head back to the hotel while others go visit another monastery. We have arranged to have someone from the hotel take us to do some shopping. We look for some kind of key-mow-know for Linda but to no avail. We then head back to Backhor Market to get some more information on the stuff we bought yesterday, then Linda and our guide do some more shopping while I do more shooting. What a rush!!
But we must head back because we’ll be late for our massage!
Linda had convinced me I should try a Thai massage, which I discover later is a code word for “I can’t believe I’m paying you to do this to me.” There’s more shaking, jerking, slapping than at the World Wrestling Foundation….It makes Shiatsu look like a gentle back rub. Linda is in the room next to me. This cute little Chinese girl comes in who speaks NO English. By gestures she communicates to me to disrobe down to my skivvies and lie down on a very hard bed. I gladly comply, having no idea what I’m in for. Immediately she begins to press in on my temples like she is trying to crush my skull; unsuccessful, she then moves on to my forehead, where she single-handedly tries to release my third chakra. She pulls my hair; “This could be fun.” I say to myself. Silly me. She then moves on to my arm, which she squeezed, jerked, pulled, then, when that didn’t work, tried to pull it off. She would smile whenever I would smile at her, but I was afraid if she misinterpreted my intentions, she would beat the crap out of me. But hell, she was doing that already. When she started slapping me, I could hear Linda laughing in the other room. I have been set up. However, I resigned myself to the treatment, at least until she had me face down and then took my left arm and right foot and tried to make me into the letter “U.” I don’t remember seeing THIS on Sesame Street! But the final blow was when she put her knee in my back and pulled my arms back, attempting I think to “crack” my back. After one attempt, she laughed as if she was sorry she wasn’t being successful.. Quite alright, I’m thinking. But bless her little heart, she make a go at it again, to no avail. I’m thinking, “boy, I hope my will is up to date.” Anyway, at some point she indicates she is finished. Or I am finished. Then we wait outside for Linda to finish. When she emerges, she is all smiles because she knows she has got me. I can barely walk….we are late for dinner, but manage to find food and then off to sleep, or a dream of a sleep. I have gotten some sort of bug and have chills; I have at best broken sleep. We must be up early for our flight back to Chengdu, change to our charter jet and on the Delhi, India.
Saturday, March 31. Lhasa, Tibet & Delhi,India
We head out early this morning from Lhasa. I am not feeling good at all and the bumpy road is not helping. The guide tells us we will stop in a minute to see a giant Buddha. Quite frankly I thought I had seen all the Buddhas there are. But this is a giant colored Buddha carved into a mountain. And supposedly the higher you leave your scarf up the cliff, the better your luck. Scarves must go up 200 feet at least. How they got there I have NO idea. Hopefully, they were lucky enough to survive. The guide asks us which of the three Buddhas this is – Future Buddha, Present Buddha, Past Buddha (they had shown us how each differ). “Future Buddha!” I shout out. “Not Future Buddha,” he barks back. I thought he was going to slap me as well. “No stupa” he exclaims (remember the stupa? The monument-looking structure). “Well,” I said, “I’ve got your stupa right here!” In my inside voice. Turns out it’s a Present Buddha, and I hang my head in shame. Our guides truly have been wonderful, but I’m so visual and the images we are seeing are so moving and overwhelming, it is hard to let anything else in. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
The TCS Staff have done an exceptional job. They are incredibly thorough in their planning. They have advance people on the ground before we arrive. At each destination our forms are filled out for us except what we have to do ourselves. In most destinations, we are whisked through customs and other line-creating spaces. They have local people on the ground who greet us and guide us to our buses. Unless the locale requires it, we never touch our luggage; they have three staff people on board who do nothing but handle luggage and make sure they are always secure. The luggage magically appears in our rooms. We always stay at the best hotel in each stop, and when we arrive, we are given our room keys and an envelope with about $20 in local currency, with the exchange rate noted. Once in our rooms we find our itinerary and instructions/advice(complete with our doctor’s room number), along with a local postcard with postage back to the states. And a small gift from that locale – a set of prayer beads, a cross, whatever; a nice touch. When we tour the locale, we usually split into four buses, each with a local guide who tells us about this destination and its customs. Then he or she broadcasts to our headsets as we tour various things. I know we are getting totally spoiled for any other kind of travel. But certainly at least for some of our destinations, I wouldn’t really want to do it any other way. And when we get back to our jet, it is like coming home. Each section of the plane has its own pair of flight attendants that we get to know by name. Quite lovely, really. Anything else would be uncivilized…..The chef on board keeps us fed with exceptional food given the conditions, and nice wines and champagne; while we are touring a locale, he is buying local products and cooking. All in first class seating of course. I know it sounds so luxurious, but, quite frankly, I don’t think we could make it otherwise without these wonderful respites back on “our jet.” We listen to lectures as well from the professors on board. Some are, well, professors, but it is informative. We are always able to get some shuteye and ready for our next adventure. Before we land, the Tour Director (she has two assistants as well) gets on the loudspeaker and briefs us: what to expect in the airport, about the hotel, things to watch out for, when we can expect our luggage, and the next day or two’s itinerary. It is so incredibly well done. Still, I never thought about the toll this would take on us physically, but it does. Not to mention the emotional impact of the various sights and scenes…I also realize that this is quite an impact on Linda and I. In our first seven months we had a very intense experience, in that we spent most every day with each other. Well, this trip is intense on steroids. Of course, there has been some testing, but mostly almost every day is an indelible experience we are enjoying together, and will be able to recall and enjoy them the rest of our days. Linda is a wonderful travel companion. She is FAR from high maintenance, and always a joy to be around…
The people on board are all quite pleasant. We have made many acquaintances and a few friends. Some I hope we will see again, or at least keep in touch. There is one couple from Atlanta I am sure we will see. We are all quite supportive of each other and I always try to help some of the older ladies with the stairs, which can be tricky in an ancient temple. We have one older lady on board who reminds me of my mom; probably about the same age. As feisty as they come. If you try to help her, she will say she’s quite okay. Sometimes she has looked very red in the face and I was concerned, but she just keeps truckin’ on.
The flight is uneventful, except when the pilot breaks in to point out Mount Everest. Off to the right it looks like one of the cumulus clouds, but there it is, sitting so majestic on top of the world. What a sight! Soon after, we arrive in Delhi, and the pilot informs us the temperature is 102. A gasp goes out from the group. While Delhi is a modern city of 15 million people, it has some of the same characteristics of Varanasi. Like Brahma bulls in the road. And the little bicycle rickshaws. But plenty of more cars. We watch in amazement as our bus driver navigates the streets; I swear it looks like he is going to hit someone, but they are all bare misses. We see kids playing cricket in the parks, though we are told field hockey is the national pastime. Who knew? There is construction everywhere. Delhi hosts the Commonwealth Games in 2010 and they are building infrastructure like roads and subways and lots of beautification. While there are many lovely houses, we still see temporary huts and substandard housing in areas. We briefly stop by a cooperative but then gladly head back to our hotel, the Oberoi Delhi. It is incredibly beautiful. We stop briefly in our room to freshen up and then head down to the Kandahar Restaurant in the hotel. Another incredible dining experience. Linda and I are seated next to the window wall of the tandoor cooking room and just off the front stage where three men are playing and singing traditional Indian music. We listen, drink, and watch the chefs cooking in the tandoor ovens. We order salmon marinated with dill, cooked in the tandoor, dal and nan, a chicken curry, and a saag. It is all delicious.. Then the chef came out and invited some of us into the tandoor cooking area we had been watching. What an experience! The ovens are these large cylindrical stone ovens with charcoal at the bottom. They put the food on long skewers and stick them down into the oven to cook. For the nan they put the flattened out balls of dough onto the sides of the oven, then use two long metal rods to remove them. Probably been doing it this way for hundreds of years. We head up to our room and I work on the blog as Linda turns in, and I follow shortly. I have gotten my cell phone to work for the first time, so I’m able to pick up my messages. Unfortunately, when you’re approximately 12 hours ahead of everyone, no time is a good time to return calls…not to mention quite expensive….
Sunday, April 1
We are up early and load buses to the airport at Delhi. We found the city charming and would have liked to have spent more time here, but alas, we push on. We board our charter again and have a 1.5 hour flight north to Amritsar, India, almost on the northern border of India. It is the main sacred pilgrimage site for Sikhs. They have a very simple faith that is enticing. In contrast to the Buddhists and Hindus they are monotheistic, and do not have images of any kind. The men typically are physically characterized by their long hair and turbans and the women by their colorful garments. This site is the home of a small pool that allegedly has healing powers, so many come to offer and worship in the golden temple and bath in the water. We are very excited about this opportunity but are still not prepared for what we will see. We have gotten a police escort to take our buses right up to the temple; we are a sight for the people. They all are stopped and staring at us as our caravan moves slowly through the masses of people. Many wave. We feel like royalty. Or intruders. We get to the site and are told to remove our shoes. Reluctantly we do so and walk a few hundred feet to the entrance where there is a shallow “moat” of water to wash our feet. Then up the steps and into this enormous square structure surrounding the pool of clear water. At the opposite side as we enter is the large golden temple, shining in the daytime sun. It is brilliant. The prayers from inside the temple float out over the water like a light fog. We have indeed arrived at the Golden Temple at Amritsar. There are thousands of people, some bathing, some resting, some – make that- many are waiting in line patiently to have their time to stop briefly in the temple. It is nearly impossible to keep with our group there are so many people. But the faces and colors are psychedelic. All very peaceful. And clean. They take us into the “kitchen,” first through the dining room. This is a very large room with rows of carpets where the faithful can sit and eat, free of charge. We then head to the kitchen, where we see men and women preparing and cooking nan (bread), and incredibly huge vats of dal. It is a moving scene to see all this being done. I look at Linda and she is in tears; she is overcome with the scene – the devotion of the people, the care, the orderliness, the feeling of peace among a multitude. We come back out to the pool area. Kids are bathing. Some are being bathed by their parents. We see large koi in the water among the people; they want to be feed too. We make out way to this long line of people 10 wide waiting to get into the temple. There must be thousands. All our respective buses are herded together and we are whisked past them into the temple. I feel so guilty, but no one in the waiting line seems to be bothered. I’d be fuming. The main waiting area is covered and has many electric fans to keep the pilgrims from fainting. They are literally packed in like sardines. They will wait for hours. The inside of the temple is small but almost all inlaid with gold. In the center are priests praying, flowers, and offerings. Quite a scene. We make our way out and head back to the buses. I have had another chance to take some incredible photos of the people there. They are friendly and smiling at us. And seem to enjoy being photographed. We get back on our buses and caravan out, again through the masses. They look at us as if they have never seen such a thing, but many smiling and waving. It has been simply an incredible morning.
The people in customs seem to be in no hurry either, but eventually we get on our jet. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. We get a lecture on Health and Faith by our doctor on board. She is delightful – and been very helpful to me (I’ll spare you the details). We then have a wonderful hot lunch prepared by our chef and then a lecture on the Churches of Lalibela which we will visit tomorrow. This is a long flight to Ethiopia (6.5 hours). We fly over some incredible country. It is wonderful to see parts of the world we have never seen, and may never see in person. We follow our route with the pocket world atlas, a gift from Laurie and Dan, and it’s oh so helpful. Today we flew over part of Pakistan, the Gulf of Oman, then into Oman and Yemen. We cross some gorgeous mountains just inside Oman, which then turn into one of the most surreal landscapes I have ever seen. It is desert, but strange. There are these jagged rows of huge sand dunes, and in between them are what look like ponds. But they are most likely, Linda says, the next layer down in the earth, ground smooth by the wind and sand. They are an eerie white and light blue in parts. Unbelievable. And as we fly over Yemen, as in Tibet and other places, we see small towns and villages scattered here and there. Then we cross the Gulf of Aden and have a beautiful of the sun setting on the Red Sea. Then we are into Africa! Here there is much farmland, though the growing season has not really started yet. We arrive safely to see the sun set and the moon rise. We board our buses and head to the hotel. This place is booming; it is Palm Sunday, so there are services going on, celebrations - and the ever-present outdoor markets. But no cows. Our hotel looks like a palace; It is huge and lit up. We go through our usual routines and have chosen an Italian restaurant for dining.
Eating has been an adventuresome experience. Of course, the first thing is knowing what to eat and what not to eat. We are always supplied with plenty of bottled water, so we stick with that. Mostly, we both try to eat local cuisine, though China put us to the test. One funny experience. One of our couple-friends from Arkansas told us they had a very bad chicken dish – very gristly. When they tried to complain to the waiter, he took it back and brought it back in a to-go box! Well, the next day another couple told us of the same problem. Only they were able to find out the real issue: it was not exactly chicken, but chicken feet! We didn’t know whether to tell our friends or not. But in spite of our adventuresomeness, there are always the comfort foods and familiar foods we long for. Whenever I’m on the plane now I get a good old American Coke – with plenty of ice! So tonight’s Italian dinner was a good break as well. TCS is great about providing us various options each night in the various hotel restaurants – or we can order room service. It’s all paid for. We also never worry about tipping anybody for anything; they take care of all that for us. So we’ll continue to try local foods whenever possible. But when I get home to Atlanta, I can’t wait to walk down the street to the Vortex and have a good old medium rare hamburger with French fries and a coke – with plenty of ice. And maybe a milk shake. Ummmmmmmmmm.
The Hotel, The Sheraton Addis Ababa, is spectacular. What I don’t realize til morning is that it is surrounded by shantytowns in the old city. There is this palace-like hotel lit up like a monument, smack dab in the middle of intense poverty. Unbelievable.
Monday, April 2. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
This morning we are to head out early on two Fokkers to fly up to Lalibela, which is north of Addis Ababa. Our destination are the Churches of Lalibella, carved out of volcanic rock in the 12th-15th centuries. But T.I.A. If you saw Blood Diamonds, Leonardo DeCaprio is always saying, whenever there is a screw up or delay, T.I.A. – This Is Africa. It moves at its own pace and its own time. Like doing things with my daughter and grandkids; if you’re in a hurry, you’re not going to be a happy camper. Our group has been divided into two groups, one for each Fokker; we are the second to take off. Well, the first group gets off on schedule (“shedule” in British), but our plane develops mechanical difficulties. It drags on and on. Linda and I – and others – decide to bail. We then have to wait for a bus to take us back to the hotel. We make arrangements to have a driver take us to the Mercato, which is the largest market in East Africa, in search of the ever-elusive beads of yesteryear. I ask to have them there at ten. To cut it short, we don’t leave until 11:30 and its in a minibus with four other ladies. I’m really upset, but T.I.A. How are we going to coordinate a trip with six people shopping? One of the ladies has a great suggestion. No problem; we’ll just set a time and place to meet. Seemed reasonable. What we were NOT prepared for was the Mercato. I expected some quaint little open air market filled with friendly people. Well, as we drove through the Mercato, our jaws all dropped – and continued to drop. Booth after booth of EVERY imaginable thing one could sell, old and new. Then imagine thousands upon thousands of people walking around, some with animals, some with large bundles on their heads, and then a slowly-moving phalanx of cars trying to make it through the street. “You want to get out?” our guide says. “Sure,” I say. “Ladies, how about we meet back at this spot in a couple of hours?” I look at the ladies, whose jaws are dragging on the floor. “No, that’s NOT allright,” they reply in unison. There’s no way in hell they’re stepping outside the bus. I’m not sure they’re comfortable with me having the window open so I can take photos. So we “tour” the market. It is truly amazing. We pass the gold booths, the clothing booth section. Then a huge spice area, with incredible aromas of every scent. We see small groups of women picking through the chilies, removing chaff, and putting them in huge sacks for sale. Then we arrive at the “recycling” area. Anything that has ever been made is for sale: wire, rope, old wood, appliances – one humongous garage sale. It covers miles. And of course, it is PACKED with people. And we are the only crackers around. People come up to car. Shooting is fascinating but tricky. Many don’t want their picture taken, which I respect. Others get angry. A few smile. I get some good shots, but it is out a van window on a bumpy road, and many times as I line up a shot, someone walks in front. It is hard to get an opening. Anyway, it is a completely different experience than the Golden Temple, but that was a holy site; this is a rough-and-tough market. We are told it is not a safe place to be. I believe it. But we all have a good laugh about the meeting time/place plan. What a joke! I think if we did that we’d be wandering for days trying to find our way out – if we made it.
We are moving through the streets, but traffic is mostly at a standstill. There are, of course, no traffic lights. But we eventually escape from the Mercato, and head off to some small antique shops, where we find some of those elusive beads – some very beautiful trade beads, hundred years old. We bargain (I bargain), but Linda is pleased with our purchases, and that’s all that matters. We are then ready to head to some clothing stores for the ladies, but most have seen enough – they want back to the hotel. We drop them off, then the driver drops off Linda and I at the national Museum which Linda was itching to see. Ethiopia is where many of the original hominoid fossils were found, the most famous being “Lucy” dating back to 3.2 million years I believe. So we see Lucy and other of her friends, along with fossils from many, many eons ago. As an anthropologist who has been on digs in Africa, she is quite an expert in this stuff, and I am enjoying getting the education. We finish touring the museum and take a brief stop across the street to a little shantytown
market. Like many “third-world” countries, there are great disparities between those with money and those without. You will see beautiful high rise apartments, nice houses, and then these little clusters of “houses” made out of corrugated aluminum sheets. To say it is substandard is being generous. There are no streets, just alleyways. But strangely enough, they do have electricity, and it is so odd to see a TV antennae or satellite dish mounted on these aluminum roofs. At this little place we have entered, the part of the little shanty town facing the street has some shops. You’ll never guess what kind of shops. Internet stores where people can connect. Business centers for photocopying, faxing, etc. Secretarial services. Unbelievable.
We hail a taxi and head back a short distance to the Sheraton. I take a closer look at my surroundings. Basically the Marriott property is surrounded by these little shantytowns. I find out later, the owner of this hotel is some very wealthy dude who bought the property from the government and moved all the people out. Next he will build a golf course where the other shantytowns are. Amazing.
When we get back, some friends tell us of an antique shop that Linda will like. So we call our guide to meet us at the hotel in thirty minutes. We dash down to the outdoor café by the swimming pool to have a quick salad. We meet him right on time. No car. “it is coming,” the traditional refrain. T.I.A. But we finally hook up and get to the little store. It is typical of these “stores;” a front about maybe ten feet wide. Merchandise is lined up on either side, all the way up to the “ceiling.” There is enough of a path for barely one person. I let Linda go inside for a while, and I take photos on the streets. I get hassled a few times, but my driver shoos them away. I am glad that he is here. I get a call from Linda, and I head to the back of the store. She has found a few things she really likes. We get a price that is too high, so we de-select a few, and finally arrive at something we are all happy with. Linda is thrilled.
We head back to the hotel, I tip our driver and guide and up to the room we go. It has been quite an adventure. And while I would have liked to have seen the Churches of Lalibela, I would not trade my “tour” of the Mercato for anything. And Linda is very happy to have seen the museum – and get some great beads. A good day all around. Linda is going to do some “clothing management,” moving things from one suitcase to another. It is a daily challenge. We have a large suitcase, a carry-on (they call a “wheelie.”), and our backpacks. Sometimes we don’t have our large suitcases for a couple of days. But from now on, we will have both. But you have to think about the next day, and what you need in your backpack, etc. It’s also a challenge because they pick up our large suitcases usually around 10 pm, and then we have to deliver our wheelies around 1.5 hours before we depart in the morning. So Linda is working on her stuff, and I decide to take a dip in the pool. It is delightful, and some good exercise, which, other than walking, we don’t get much of. That combined with all the food they throw us, well, my tuckus must be 100 centimeters by now. “What’s a centimeter?” you say. Well, that’s what were asking. In fact, this being a “great faiths” tour there would be lots of serious questions raised. Well, as a special feature, Iet’s see the top ten questions we would expect on this trip:
TOP TEN QUESTIONS ANTICIPATED ON THE GREAT FAITHS TRIP
10. What is a Buddha?
9. What is the difference between Buddhism and Hinduism?
8. What do I need to do to get enlighten?
7. Why does the Dalai Lama live in India?
6. Why can’t all religions just get along together?
5. Is there only one Right way?
4. What IS the sound of one hand clapping?
3. What are the socio-economic and cultural implications of Islamic thought on global peace?
2. How can I be one with the Tao?
1. Who is God?
I would like to tell you that I have heard all these questions. But I would be lying. I haven’t heard one of them. Instead, I present the real
TOP TEN QUESTIONS ASKED ON THE GREAT FAITHS TRIP
10. What the hell is a kilometer?
9. I don’t care how many centigrade it is; what’s the temperature in Fahrenheit?
8. Why won’t they let us take photographs in here?
7. Tie: Where is the bathroom?
You call that a bathroom?
6. How much longer do we have to wait? Is it Hank again?
5. Who are all these people and why are they following us around the globe?
4. Tie: Why do these people talk so funny; why can’t they just speak English?
Is our guide actually speaking English?
Has anyone seen my tour guide?
3. What kind of food is this? Is it likely to give me diarrhea again?
2. I can’t remember; which bus was I on?
1. Which country am I in?
I would like to give this all to you free of charge, but from what I’ve learned on this trip, that’ll be one dallah!
After the swim, I shower up in the room, washing off some of the guilt anyway. Linda looks stunning as usual, and we head off to a French restaurant in the hotel. It is cozy and intimate. Nice. We have a wonderful starter of tomatoes, mozzarella and avocados, along with a duck liver pate. We follow that with a NY Strip a poivre and baked potatoes. Finally, a delightful chocolate mouse. All washed down with a good Bordeaux. Very nice. Linda points out a Ethiopian woman at the next table. She is stunning. I know it’s my own cultural bias, but the Ethiopian people are so beautiful. They are usually thin, with unique features, an olive-black skin, and small features on their face. The women are particularly stunning. It is so strange to be in a shanty town and see this incredibly beautiful woman walk by. You would think she would be walking down a runway in NY. But we hurry up to the room to get our suitcases out in the hall and quickly fall asleep…..Tomorrow we leave early in the morning for Cairo.
Wednesday, April 4. Cairo, Egypt
The sun breaks in our window and it is a beautiful morning. The sun is rising over the Nile, and there are crews rowing down the river. Gorgeous. Linda and I have decided to not do the scheduled activities this morning and head out via taxi to the Bazaar. Taxis here have no meters, so you negotiate the price before you get in. We make it through traffic again (I promise never to complain about Atlanta traffic again; this place makes Atlanta look like an expressway in South Dakota.) and get to the Khan il Khalili Bazaar as the shops are just beginning to open. There are really two sections of this market; the local part and the tourist part. We enjoy just seeing the people and the stuff, although salespeople are pretty pushy. The best part of the morning comes when we hit the spice sections….large sacks of every imaginable spice….they are close quarters and we interact with some of the merchants. The buildings are very, very old; electrical wires are like spaghetti overhead at times. Most of the alleyways are dirt. There are also lots of things I would call trinkets, and t-shirts, children’s shoes, etc. But it all feels safe and comfortable. At one point we make it into the tourist section; the floors are tiled and they take credit cards. But we generally find the things uninteresting, so we head back, hail a cab and, again after much traffic, find our hotel and have a great lunch out by the pool. We then hit the mall connected to the hotel, but again, not anything of interest to us. So we head back to the room to rest up a bit and get down to the lobby at 3:15 for our next tour – the Pyramids and the Sphinx. We drive and end up in an incredibly poor area, and there, in the background we see the pyramids. Finally our bus arrives and there they are, in all their glory. It is simply indescribable. We make our way along one of the pyramids and into this long building. Inside we see a model of a boat next to a large rock moat with huge cut stones lined up on top. This is a model of the boat found in the moat next door. The Egyptians believed the sun, in its travels, went down into the sand, crossed underground, and came up again on the other side. This boat then is to help the king in his journey in the afterlife. Then we walk upstairs and circle around the actual boat, perfectly intact – and built over 2,5000 years BC. The construction is superb, and made to be dismantled to be placed in the moat, for “re-construction” later.
From here we spend some more time amidst the pyramids learning more about their construction. It is quite amazing how they carried these large stones across the river Nile onto a dock with a set of locks, then used wet mud to better enable movement of the stones up an incline to the pyramid site. I won’t bore you with all the details, but suffice it to say, I have learned so much about how this was done – and unlearned so much misinformation as well (such as they did NOT kill the workers –who were not slaves – and put them in the tomb). It was all truly fascinating. We then headed down to see the Sphinx, which some believe pre-date the pyramids by thousands of years. It is not in the best of shape, but still magnificent, particularly as the sun was setting over the edge of the pyramid. After this, we head out again to wind our way around to another spot. They have set up this huge colorful tent with openings facing the Pyramids. In front are many rugs. In front of that are musicians playing, along with a dancing horse, belly dancer, a flame-blower, and about half a dozen camels. What a sight! And all this with the three pyramids in perfect view! The weather is perfect – a clear night and mild breeze, as the sun sets in the sand. If I had not proposed to Linda before now, I would certainly do so tonight – what a romantic, magical evening – and one we will remember for a long, long time. Reluctantly we venture in to eat. We sit at a table with our new friends, Keith and Rose-Lee Reinhard from NYC and Bob and Jane Long from Atlanta. We have a great time talking and laughing, sharing stories of this trip and others. Then it is time to leave. It has truly been a magnificent afternoon and evening, and clearly a high point of the entire trip. I am so grateful to have had this experience in my lifetime.
Thursday, April 5 Yerevan, Armenia
We head out today for Yerevan, Armenia, which is a center of Christianity, particularly the Armenian Church. We wiz through customs and back onto our jet. We have about a 2.5 hour flight. We have a wonderful lunch and a briefing on the next two days. The countryside down below is beautiful. As we fly over Turkey – I think – we see these views that look like quilts, all of strips of green alternating with deep rust and occasional white, from the soil. Mixed in with occasional lakes. We then pass over a dam with a beautiful lake. We get involved with something, then I look out again. Suddenly, the view below is incredibly different – now the soil is black and there are snow-covered mountains. Then just as we approach Yerevan, we see this rather large mountain jutting above all the rest. This is Mount Ararat, which is alleged to be the place where Noah’s Ark landed after the flood. As we land, we can see this mountain is a backdrop for the city of Yerevan, although the mountain is actually in Turkey.
We get onto our buses. Some go see a manuscript museum, but we have opted for a brief city tour and back to the hotel. Yerevan is a quaint little city, one that is changing rapidly as outside investors are rapidly “upgrading” the city, which only recently has been “freed” from Russian control. The highlight of our tour is a stop at Mother Armenia, a huge statue that looks over the entire city. One can see the mixture of old and new buildings in the scene below. We arrive at the Marriott, which sits on Republic Square. The Square is quite beautiful as it is surrounded by these beautiful columned buildings constructed of squares of rock tiles, each in varying shades of tan, rust, and brown. But in contrast with our previous destinations, people here are all dressed in black. The women, who are quite striking, are typically dressed in high heel boots and use heavy eye liner. The men seem to all wear black leather coats. Of course, it is a bit chilly here, so Spring has not really come yet. The traffic is quite mild, but I think it’s a city of 1.5 million. Our hotel is not of the same level we are used to, but it is quite nice. We get into our room and decide to walk around a bit. As we do, I spot this little hole in the wall store with antique rugs. We meet Arum and his lovely assistant. Linda falls in love with a couple of the rugs, which we desperately need for our loft. We decide to look around some more and return to the hotel. We have a very nice dinner at an Italian restaurant in the hotel. Then it’s off to dreamland....
Friday, April 06. Yerevan, Armenia
The group is going to a number of sites, but the weather is dreary and we need a break. We find a driver to take us to this carpet factory, which is in the middle of nowhere, but we meet Narina who shows us their wares. I think they’re nice, but Linda the Rug Expert says they are not. Yes, dear. She DOES know her rugs…we then are taken back near the hotel, so we stop by to see Arum. We have learned that you need a certificate to take rugs out of the country that are older than 70 years, and it takes two days to get them. But Arum assures us, if we have the cash, he can get us the certificates by 5 pm. Linda finds another rug and so I negotiate a price for the three. I mean, how many people can say they have antique Armenian Rugs?? We have a great lunch on the second floor of the hotel overlooking the Square, then head up to our room and absolutely crash. But we’re up and ready to go at 5:30 to attend a roundtable with our three resident professors. We have all heard and seen a lot over these past couple of weeks, and this is a chance to do some processing. Two major questions revolve around the commonality of the golden rule, and the reconciliation of bad things happening versus a loving God. Basically, all the religions have some focus on practicing the golden rule. There are no easy answers to the latter issue. We then head over to a local restaurant nearby that is classically Armenian. Quite frankly, my expectations are low, but we are treated to one of the better meals on the trip. The owner, whom we met, uses only local ingredients, and they are all fresh and delicious. We are served family style, and we are joined by two of the TCS staff – Jennifer, who is the VP of Operations and Lynne, who is the Tour Director on this trip. We have a wonderful and fun evening talking with the two of them. Lynne is from England and has a quaint little three hundred year old house in Devon, England. Jennifer lives in Seattle. It was great to get to know them both a bit, as we are treated to tomatoes with goat cheese, eggplants stuffed with garlic, grape leaves wrapped around beef fillets, pork tenderloins, and trout. Each dish was better than the last. And they topped it off with a dessert of sun dried pears and unusual slices of a fig concoction. ALL simply delicious! We walked home in a slight drizzle, watched a little Armenian TV, then off to sleep.
Saturday, April 7
We pack up to leave Yerevan, but have a morning stop at a Saturday morning marketplace. Linda and I walk from the hotel, so we get to see them setting up, though no one seems in a hurry. Everyone starts late here – most stores don’t open until 11 a.m. The market is an interesting sociological study, as we sectors of hardware, chemicals, scientific instruments(!), knick-knacks, rugs, coffee, jewelry, etc. I do find a cute little silver bracelet that we get at a nice price. Both Linda and the merchant are happy! Then it’s time to load up the buses again and head off to Istanbul. I hate when that happens….
Saturday, April 7. Yerevan, Armenia and Istanbul, Turkey
We pack up to leave Yerevan, but have a morning stop at a Saturday morning marketplace. Linda and I walk from the hotel, so we get to see them setting up, though no one seems in a hurry. Everyone starts late here – most stores don’t open until 11 a.m. The market is an interesting sociological study, as we sectors of hardware, chemicals, scientific instruments(!), knick-knacks, rugs, coffee, jewelry, etc. I do find a cute little silver bracelet that we get at a nice price. Both Linda and the merchant are happy! Then it’s time to load up the buses again and head off to Istanbul. I hate when that happens….
We fly near the Black Sea, which is, well, black – and beautiful. Then arrive in Istanbul. We load our buses and head out to the Grand Bazaar, which is the world’s largest covered market, with 58 streets and 4,000 shops. I took some photographs, but we didn’t really buy anything. We get a bus to our hotel, the Swissotel Bosphorous, which is spectacular. Istanbul is a beautiful city, full of mosques with their minarets, used to broadcast the call for prayers five times a day. There is a great mix of old and new in colorful buildings, and the old and new manners of dress as well. The tulips are blooming and it is so colorful. It is Easter weekend, and the city is packed with tourists, not to mention a Crystal cruise ship docked nearby our hotel. We refresh ourselves and walk to the Naz Restaurant, with both Turkish music and Turkish cuisine. It is a beautiful ambiance with great views of the Bosphorous lighting up at night.
Sunday, April 8. Istanbul, Turkey
We have a great breakfast buffet overlooking the Bosphorous, and then head out again to the Bazaar. This morning we are more successful in finding a great little shop. We are buying some basic ceramics for use in our loft, and as I’m waiting for packaging, Linda discovers a great little shop next door, where we end up purchasing some great little painted boxes for display, and some exquisite book pages with Turkish paintings. We find our way – eventually – to the Green House Restaurant next to the Blue Mosque. We have a great little lunch outdoors with our group, then walk to the Topkapi Palace, which was home to many of the Sultans. It is an incredibly expansive set of grounds with beautiful, ornate buildings, including the Harem Building and the Circumcision Room! And it has one incredibly beautiful view of the Bosphorous. The day is clear with a slight breeze, so much of the fog that we saw yesterday is gone. Our guide is a bit too historic for us, so we head out to see everything ourselves, then walk back to the Bazaar for more fun. We make it back in time to meet our bus, then head back to the hotel. We get dressed and head out for our finale – a boat ride on the Bosphorous followed by dinner overlooking the Bosphorous. Everyone is dressed up, really for the first time. The boat is just the right size, and we enjoy cocktails and hors d’oevres I get some great photos of both sides of the Strait. On one side is Europe – and the other is Asia. Magnificent! We approach our restaurant just as the sun sets over the city. We disembark and find a great table by the water, and are joined by several others. Before we start, we are treated to a “service” by three Whirling Dervishes. As a number of players play and chant, the three devotees begin to twirl, and then keep twirling. They enter into this trance-like state of prayer, first with hands up, then with hands down. We are not allowed to take pictures; this is not a performance, but an exhibition for us. It is pretty amazing. They finish in about 15 minutes, then silently depart. Then our dinner begins, which is wonderful, all while serenaded by a trio of players, two women with violins and a man with a guitar. A couple of us take the opportunity to dance, but mostly it’s just enjoying each others’ company for one last time. I have told our director I would share something, so at some point I read my top ten list of Questions Heard on the trip, which I posted a few days ago. They all seemed to enjoy it, and it was fun to give something to the group. Finally, we’ve all had enough fun and head out via bus to the hotel.
Monday, April 8. Istanbul, Turkey & Rome, Italy
We pack up and head out early for the Spice Market. It is great – wonderful smells and sights. We buy some coffee and a few items as well. We are then taken back to the Bazaar, where we do more shopping and pick up a few more memorabilia of our trip. We’ve had a great trip to Istanbul. It is certainly a city we would like to return to. But we are anxious to get home and take care of so many things before our wedding. We get to the hotel around 11 and then fly out for the last time on our jet. We have some farewell speeches from our staff and the faculty, and all share a champagne toast together. We arrive in Rome, flying over green farmland. As we leave the jet for the last time, the staff is gathered outside for final farewells…And for the first time in three weeks, we actually have to deal with all our own luggage. We have definitely become spoiled…
Well, it’s been quite a journey. We’ve been gone almost a month and travelled well over 17,000 miles, not counting the trip to and from Atlanta to Rome. We have visited 12 countries over four continents, and visited the chief sites of over eight of the world’s most popular religions, not to mention a number of their sects. We have been on the world’s largest desert and its longest river – and flown over its highest peak. We have seen some incredible examples of religious structures and religious art. We have had lectures and guided tours about so many aspects of various religions and sites. We have had the pleasure of interacting on all this with some wonderful people from all over the U.S. and abroad. I have personally taken over 6,000 images, and could have taken 6,000 more, images that I saw but was unable to photograph for a variety of reasons. It has truly been the trip of a lifetime. I’m sure it will take more of our lifetime to absorb it all, and to see how it has really changed us.
But I do have some initial impressions. First of all, while all of the sites we have visited are spectacular, it is the people we have seen and interacted with who have left the deepest impressions. We have been struck in a profound way by the deeply held convictions and practices of all these peoples. I know I will never look at a man with a turban in the same way. And when I read about things happening in a country we have visited, I know I will have a more personal feeling about it. I also know it will be great to come home, but not because the U.S. is better than any of the others, but simply because it is our home, where we find our comfort, our peace, and our family and friends. Every country we have visited has a pride in their homeland – and rightfully so. And they truly believe they are seeking truth in the way they have been taught. I have been raised in traditions that tend to be exclusive, but this trip has begun to tear down some of those walls, torn down by the understanding, however small, that we have gained.
It is so trite to say it, but people ARE the same everywhere. We have seen families caring for each other. Kids who have nothing, playing and having fun with just stones. People trying to make a living to support their families. People laughing, crying, scared, smiling. We have tried to speak a universal language, and hopefully, in some small way, we have brought good will and understanding in the places we have visited.
And finally, on a more personal note, I told Linda that this trip would see if we were really compatible. Well, she has exceeded every expectation. In every situation, I have discovered her to be even more compassionate, generous, friendly, giving, loving, flexible, energetic, and adventurous than I knew. She is simply a joy to be around. And I know I have truly found a fellow traveler on this wonderful planet whom I will enjoy for the rest of my days...
And as we travel back across the Atlantic, our thoughts begin to dwell on those we love and have missed over these past weeks. And I know you have not been able to read all of what my cousin Richard calls Bill’s Big Blog. But I have been driven to at least let you know we were well, and to have a record for the future, both for us and our children and grandchildren. And now we look forward to renewing those connections – in the midst of all the things we need to get done before our wedding.
We love you all very much,
Bill and Linda