Synchronicity?

Our son Jeff had made friends with Roland and Moni, a young couple from Switzerland.  Roland was in Niagara to teach farmers how to grow and prune miniature apple trees.  I asked Jeff to bring them to our house for dinner and we spent an enjoyable evening getting to know them.  In a few days they were to leave Niagara to travel throughout North America in a van, down the east coast to Florida, across southern United States, up the west coast making their way back to Canada, a five month journey. Because we were planning a trip to British Columbia later that year in our motorhome we jokingly said that maybe we might see them in our travels, though the likelihood of that happening in such a vast continent was almost nil.

 That summer Fred and I were walking along the streets of Jasper, Alberta when he spotted a French fry truck and he expressed how he was hankering for some.  Being the practical person that I am I suggested that we go into a grocery store, buy a bag of frozen fries and cook them in the motorhome.  We wandered through the store, bought the fries but remembered that we also needed some bottled water.  It was when we went up that aisle we were bowled over for there stood Roland and Moni!  There were shocked looks, gasps, "many oh my gods" from Moni and myself as we looked at each other in astonishment.  There was much excitement as you can well imagine! They had already been at the checkout but remembered they needed lunch meat and made their way down the aisle we were in.  

Just think about it dear reader, if we hadn't needed water or they didn't need lunch meat we might never have met up.  We may have missed each other by seconds.

Because a light rain was falling we invited them for lunch in our motorhome and later hiked with them to Athabasca Falls.  In the evening we sat around the campfire marveling over our encounter in the grocery store.

UNMARKED TERRITORY

As close as he will get

Fred told me not to stand too
close to the edge.

On a beautiful summer day we drove down highway 400 to hike a trail through McCrae Lake Conservation Reserve.  It was a typical hike through the woods northwest of Port Severn with not much variation from other walks in the woods.  A sign “Eagles Nest” led us to towering cliffs high above the sparkling waters of the lake.  It was such a stunning surprise and we sat on the rocks just taking in the magnificent scenery.

We saw people below sitting in lawn chairs but didn't see a way down.

The only signs were yellow arrows

I usually excitedly anticipate what is ahead but had an unfamiliar feeling in my solar plexus.  It was then that I took out my smart phone and went on google maps to locate where we were exactly.  I saw lots of water so I suggested to Fred where there is water there are cottages, lots of them up here, that we bushwack through the dense brush and ask a cottager if they would drive us to our car.  We felt a spark of hope when we came across a young man on a dock; then we explained our predicament and request to which he replied, “there are no roads here, all cottages are water access only”.  My heart sank but he led us into the cottage to meet his grandmother who immediately offered us water as she noticed ours was running low.  She told her grandson to take us in her boat to Honey Harbour.  What???  Seems that her cottage was not on a lake but on one of the hundreds of bays on Georgian Bay.  She told us we were certainly not the first hikers to arrive at her cottage as just recently 2 had spent the night.  I must admit we thoroughly enjoyed the 30 minute boat ride and never realized there are so many cottages with water access only. The young man would not take the money we tried to force upon him.

In Honey Harbour I called a taxi in Coldwater who could come in an hour, I told them thanks but no thanks and called another one that no longer existed.  Meanwhile Fred had spotted a young man on a Bobcat so he offered him cash to drive us to our car.  He was happy to help us out and delivered us safely to our car within 30 minutes.  We were beyond grateful so gave him more than the agreed upon amount of money.  We were so blessed to come upon such wonderful people.

I have always loved adventure and excitedly related this one to a son who just happened to call as soon as we got in the car.  His response, “I can see the headlines now, two seniors lost in the woods overnight”.  Well, that part of the trek I can do without.

I did notify Ontario trails regarding the lack of signage on this trail.  I don't like an overabundance of signs but seeing that many hikers end up bushwacking through the woods tells me that some signage is needed.

PADDLING ON THE SHADOW RIVER

 One of the things we love to do in Muskoka is explore rivers and lakes by canoe, though rivers are more interesting; every lake has an abundance of cottages along its shores.  We launched the canoe at the beach in Rosseau and paddled lazily along the river as it snaked through forested banks and open fields.  Just before we reached highway 141 a large beaver dam kept us from venturing any further. We paddled back, stopping in the shade of a giant tree along the bank and had a leisurely lunch.

We were entertained by a heron who watched us gliding along and just as we came near he/she would fly off but perch on the riverbank about 50 meters ahead, and again watch us approach and with a flapping of its wings liftoff and fly ahead.  The heron did this repeatedly so we assumed it was escorting us away from a nest but after we turned back at the beaver dam the heron continued guiding us along the river.

COSTA RICA

The first thing we felt getting off the plane in San Juan, Costa Rica is the heat.  It is  steamy!  Air Transat had a mini bus drive us to Jaco Beach on the Pacific side of the small Central American country.  The distance was only 90 kilometers but we had been told the trip would take 2 ½ hours and we soon saw why.  The roads are narrow with hairpin turns and much traffic.  The bus driver overtakes vehicles in dangerous situations and all you can do is close your eyes and pray.  Our guide, Emiliano was a very knowledgeable young man and not hard to rest your eyes on. 

We stopped at a restaurant for an ice-cold beer and some good food.  We sat with a couple from Toronto and exchanged pleasantries.  Near Jaco Beach the bus stopped on a bridge so we could observe crocodiles in the river.  We were told the government provides cows to graze along the river for the crocs to feed on and it is to attract tourists.  I told Emiliano about our son’s band, how to find their songs and an invitation to stay with us if he ever came to Canada.  He was very excited about listening to some  AMPED music when he got home.

Our ocean front room had an amazing view of the ocean but no AC!  Very hot!  In the evening at dinner in town we met a lady from Alberta who knew one of the dealers I knew from the casino where I worked at the time.  Such a small world! 

I have a fear of the ocean and usually won’t go in past my knees as in Mexico a wave had crashed into me, I fell into the foaming surf and just when I was struggling to get up another wave hit me with a vengeance (or so it seemed).  Spitting up salt water and with a swimsuit full of sand I quickly ran on the beach to safety.  In Costa Rica I braved the Pacific Ocean once again but with much more bravado as I had a rented boogy board that I attached to my ankle.  I could not believe how much fun it is to body surf.  Instead of being fearful of waves I was now looking behind me to spot a big one to ride to the shore.  The wave would lift my board and like a bullet I would ride it till it crashed onshore.  We spent a few hours playing in the ocean but then I couldn’t believe what happened!  The Pacific Ocean is very vast as we all know.  It was while I was riding a smaller wave that Fred caught a big one and at lightning speed landed on top of me near the shore.  Being a novice at body surfing he didn’t know how to steer the board away from me.  That was the end of the fun for me as I think he cracked one of my ribs, or at least bruised it badly.

My husband has a fear of heights and to face his fear we decided to go Zip lining in the jungle.  After a bus ride from our hotel a taxi took us into the jungle where we were strapped into our harness and a small group of us walked about 15 minutes on a steep climb. 

 

After being shown how to brake properly with gloved hands, off we went from platform to platform high above the jungle below.  At times we were 40 (120 feet) meters high and our longest run was 43 (400 feet) meters long.  I did find though that I couldn’t pay much attention to my surroundings as I was intent on watching for the guide’s signal to brake.  Brake too soon and you end up only halfway between platforms and I didn’t want to embarrass myself by having a guide come out to rescue me.  I could do this. Oh what fun!  At the last platform we were lowered the 30 (90 feet) meters by ropes and pulleys.

We booked a jungle cruise and took a mini van from our hotel. The drive along the highway was very scenic, mostly along the ocean. We then took a narrow, rough road that was bordered with dusty hibiscus hedges. At Punta Leone an American family of very large people got on and on the rough road the van bottomed out a few times.
 

The river cruise on the Tarcoles River was very interesting with our guide pointing out many species of birds; herons, egrets, ibis’.  At one point the guide stopped, got out of the boat and slapped the water with a dead, plucked chicken and he accompanied the slaps with small grunts.  He motioned for everyone to be quiet and within minutes an enormous crocodile sliced through the water, opened his gigantic mouth to engulf the chicken and slowly slid backwards into the river.  The guide pointed out scars at the back of his leg from a croc that had snuck up behind him while he was luring another one.  At the mouth of the river hundreds of pelicans sat in trees watching our boat glide by.

 

One day we rented a car and drove south spotting teak plantations, scenic lookouts and bad roads.  Manuel Antonio State Park is a wonderful place to hike with scenic lookouts, monkeys and beautiful beaches.  One beach had been closed off to shoot a Disney film with Antonio Banderas.  While walking along the trail I was very aware that there might be snakes in the trees above us so I was constantly looking up as well as ahead on the path.  The jungle was very thick but we didn’t see much wildlife besides the monkeys.  It was so hot!!!!

A thirty minute flight from Jaco Beach landed us in Liberia to pick up more passengers.  This area is remote and there are many cattle ranches but we weren’t allowed off the plane.  This airport is the smallest I have ever seen.  We sat on the hot tarmac, with no air conditioning for over an hour.

At the airport men were trying to solicit the $17 US departure tax even while a voice on the loudspeaker warned tourists to pay that inside.  Security was tight.  My carry-on luggage was searched twice.

LAS VEGAS

I know that many of my readers have been to Las Vegas but since my blog is online some of my readers live overseas and have never been to Las Vegas so this is for them.

We drove to Vegas from Black Canyon City, Arizona where we had spent 5 months, about a 5 hour trip.  Our friends, who were on their way from Black Canyon City to San Francisco had planned a stop in Las Vegas and asked if we would be interested in joining them for a few days of fun in Sin City.  We drove separately in our truck but stayed with them in their RV at the Circus Circus KOA campground that is located on the north end of the strip.  The game plan was to see most of the casinos on the strip and the first evening we walked about 6 ks or more to check out Treasure Island, The Mirage and Caesar’s Palace.  At the Mirage we were treated to an outdoor show of a volcano that spewed fire on top of and down a waterfall.  We could feel the heat of the flames.  The pirate show at Treasure Island was cancelled due to high winds.  In all we walked through at least 15 themed casinos and Janis and I rated them, both of us usually in agreement.

Bellagios we rated #1 as it has a classy entrance with floor to ceiling windows framed with silk draperies.  The windows frame a lovely outdoor setting that one might see in a European city, decorative stone balustrades beside the water.  A walk into the Conservatory put us into a joyous mood, as well as invoked a sense of awe.  The entire room showcased brightly coloured azaleas, crysanthemums, birds of paradise

A scarlet bridge led to a similarly coloured Japanese Pagoda.  The entire Observatory was done with Feng Shui to keep the Chi (energy) flowing.  Flowers, rock and moving water made this a very calming place, a refuge from the busy Vegas sidewalks.  Outdoors, neatly manicured hedges and green grass (a treat to my eyes after living in the desert) provided contrast to the concrete on the strip.

Janis and I were delighted with New York, New York from our very first sight of the replica of the Statue of Liberty, complete with tugboats in the water below, the Brooklyn Bridge, facades of brownstones and tenement buildings.  I commented that I half expected Tony and Marie of West Side Story to emerge onto one of the balconies.  Inside the casino the bottom floor is replicated to make you feel that you are strolling in a NYC village, complete with steam coming up from manhole covers.  Cafes, bakeries and eateries delighted our senses and Lloyd joked that he was looking for the soup nazi (think Seinfeld).  Janis and I were absolutely charmed by the authenticity of this reproduction of the Big Apple.
 

Caesar’s Palace is absolutely stunning with busts of Caesar and marble angels trumpeting at the top of one building.  Fountains, marble statues and many Romanesque buildings make this one of the largest casinos on the strip.  The Coliseum was built especially for Celine Dion’s shows that are featured 200 nights a year.  I would have loved to attend her show but at $200 a ticket I settled for listening to her CDs.

As one might expect, the Paris casino can be identified by the Eiffel Tower that looms over it.  Once inside we were enchanted by the Parisian theme.  Just as in New York, New York, streets resembled the ones in Paris and those I had actually seen on a trip I took to Paris.  Awnings above Parisian Bistros and actual trees added to the authenticity of this French capital.

Alladin also enthralled us with its ceilings of white clouds and blue skies, shops resembling villages you might see in the Middle East.  Apartments with potted plants on balconies and soft lighting behind curtained windows looked inviting.  Earthenware pitchers holding crimson geraniums rested on windowsills.  We ate a tasty lunch at a restaurant surround by this middle-eastern motif, though oddly enough the food was totally western.

 Wynn Casino, one of the newest casinos on the strip is total class.  Gaily coloured carpets on terrazzo floors lead to a tastefully decorated casino where the leather chairs were softer than in any other casino.  To get to the gaming floor we strolled under an archway of real trees that were softly illuminated to create a peaceful atmosphere.  I commented that it would be a great place to exchange wedding vows rather than in one of the many tacky wedding chapels on the strip.  Downstairs there is an outdoor restaurant where patrons can sit beside a waterfall that cascades down a natural rock wall.

When one hears the name Venice one immediately thinks of the canals in this Italian city and the Venetian not only has the canals but gondolas and oarsmen that serenade you as they steer the gondolas through the canal.  Unfortunately for us, we had just missed a wedding ceremony before we ambled in.  Darn that stop we made at Hagen Daas!  As you can imagine, the casino was beautifully decorated in an Italian theme.

Some of the casinos are more difficult to recall than others but these obviously were our favourites.  All of the casinos feature high end shopping with retailers like Cartier, Tiffany’s etc. and I personally was surprised that Vegas is such a shopping mecca.  I was also greatly surprised that Las Vegas is not the tacky tourist destination I had feared it was.  You can also try your luck at gambling if you are feeling lucky. 

 

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

The young woman raced along the beach, pebbles tearing her bare feet.  Tears streamed down her face only to dry in the blustery wind that blew across the sand.  She threw herself upon a rock and clutched its jagged edge, tightening her hold until pained seared through her hand.  With the pain came anger and frustrations, such as she had never felt before.  Anguished sobs tore through her entire being and she felt as though she wanted to die.  Betrayed, she had never felt so betrayed….

They had met at a party.  Their hands had accidentally touched as they both reached for the same appetizer and an electric current passed between them.  She had gazed into his limpid eyes that had a hypnotic effect and had felt an immediate attraction, in fact a vague sense of familiarity as she scanned his face.  They had left the boring party and had driven to the coast for a walk along the beach.  Stars, like brilliant jewels twinkled in the black heavens above them.  Being under a canopy of stars always filled Dana with a feeling of indescribable peace, and being with this stranger who didn’t see like a stranger felt so comfortable and so right.  She had a feeling of having known Craig for a long time.  She discovered the true essence of him in just a few short hours, much less than it normally took to get acquainted with someone new.  They discovered they both had read the same books, believed the same philosophies and were both advanced Tai Chi students.  The files of Edgar Cayce held as much fascination for him as they did for her.  They were astonished to discover they had actually been at the same seminar in Virginia Beach.  Long into the night they sat among the weathered sand dunes reflecting on the cosmos.

After Craig had dropped her off at her apartment with the promise of another date, Dana had lain awake marvelling upon meeting this fascinating man.  She was hopelessly in love.  She adored how his cheeks dimpled when he smiled and the way his unruly curls fell over his forehead.  The bracing scent of his aftershave still lingered in her nostrils as Dana drifted into a peaceful slumber.

Dana suddenly jerked awake, tears flowing down her cheeks.  Her dream was so real; she had never known such anquish.  In the dream she had been in love with a man named Zolar and they were to wed during the next full moon.  Just before their wedding Zolar came to explain they could not be wed for his parents had arranged a marriage to Helena, a girl in the neighbouring village.  He had to honour the wishes of his parents.  He was terribly sorry for he loved her with all his soul and he always would.

Dana sat up abruptly, hands to her face in shock and amazement.  Her heart palpitated rapidly beneath her rib cage as realization flooded her entire being.  Craig, the wonderful man she had just spent such a magical evening with was Zolar.

THE BEACH

Oh, that breeze feels so marvellous and the invigorating smell of the ocean reminds me of the walks I went on with my dad when I was a very young child.  He would take me to the village harbour and I suppose because of the memories of those times, I feel so peaceful whenever I’m by the sea.  It’s like coming home.

 Wow, when I see birds flying I marvel at the miracle of flight.  Those gulls are like children playing as they soar, wings outstretched to ride the air currents high above the surf.

Ah, it sure feels good to be barefoot.  The sand feels delicious between my toes, hot at first, then a soothing coolness as my feet sink further into it.  There’s a weather beaten log that I can sit down on.  I wonder how long it has been lying here on the beach?  What kind of tree was it once a long time ago?  For the log to be so high up on the beach it must have been hurled by churning breakers as they crashed on the beach during a severe winter gale.  I wonder how may miles of ocean it drifted before the storm?

It is awesome to think that all of this sparkling sand surrounding me was once rock.  How many eons did it take the rock to erode into minute grains?  When I really think about it, exactly how long is an eon?  I cannot comprehend time and space.  My lifetime is not even a second if I compare it to eons.  I feel so small and insignificant, yet I feel that I belong.  I am an integral part of the universe.

THE ROCK

                                                                    
Thanks to a Prudential Insurance commercial on TV many years ago “The Rock” was familiar looking to me as we had glided past in on the ferry to Morocco. Now we were going to explore this geological marvel that lies at the intersection of two continents and the meeting point of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.

Everyone on the bus was visibly more relaxed today after being in Tangier the day before.  Once we reached Gibralter we immediately clambered aboard a mini bus for a tour of the upper elevation of the rock.  Much to my delight the bus driver selected me to sit beside him in the front so I had an unobstructed view.  The experienced driver (he did later wipe out his side mirror in town) casually negotiated the steep narrow road that snaked to the top.  The road ran dangerously close to the edge of the rock and I imagined the bus missing a curve, plunging all of us to our deaths.  I shook off my wild imaginings and took in the fantastic view. 

To the west I could see the mighty Atlantic ocean shimmering in the sunlight and the coastline of Spain curving against the blue water.  To the south we could see the continent of Africa on the other side of the Strait.  I was so excited and thrilled by the amazing view.  We saw many Barbary monkeys, actually called Barbary Macaques and we had been warned by our driver to hang on to our glasses as they love to grab them off your face and toss them from the precipice.

Another big thrill was wandering through the magnificent St. Michael’s Caves.  The stalacites and stalamites were beautifully illuminated with hidden lights.  The caves have wonderful acoustics and we were told that symphony orchestra concerts are held here.  I stood for some time in reverence and awe, wishing I could attend one of the concerts.  I had read that many pre-historic relics have been found here, including the first Neandrathal-type skull,

Gibralter’s Main Street is pedestrianized, quite charming and has quite a variety of retail shops and restaurants featuring Indian, Chinese, Italian, Spanish foods, though British pubs outnumbered the others.  We had a leisurely pint of beer and some lunch in a pub and then had some free time to wander around by ourselves.  There were an amazing variety of shops selling all sorts of goods, jewellery, perfume, porcelain figures, clothing etc.

All too soon we had to board the bus for our return to Portugal.  At the Spanish border we were relieved that the Customs Officers weren’t too tough on us as our bus driver had warned us they might.  The Spaniards still held a grudge against the British for “reclaiming” Gibralter and at one time had closed the border but re-opened it in the 80s.  I was certainly grateful that they had.

 

TANGIER, MOROCCO

Tangier in the background

Early in the morning we tourists boarded the ferry at Algeciras for a ride across the Strait of Gibralter to Tangier, Morocco.  Fred and I stayed up on the upper deck and watched in awe as we glided past “The Rock” of Gibralter.
When we disembarked from our tour bus in Tangier we discovered that a young man had assigned himself to us.  A friendly young fellow with a lame leg, he limped along beside our group as we approached the Casbah.  It was comforting to know that he could answer any questions we had and he would also discourage any locals who might approach us in a negative manner.

Within the Casbah we were astounded by the poverty, the beggars, the lack of hygiene in locals selling produce, dead chickens lying out in the open on the sidewalk,  flies hovering around the carcasses.  We saw people with deformities and one memory that stays with me is of a young mother sitting on the sidewalk, her feet so dirty she likely hadn’t bathed in weeks and a baby clinging to her strapped in some type of scarf.  I remember thinking what kind of life was in store for that baby?  The street vendors were very aggressive and annoying as they walked beside us shoving their wares in our faces.  While walking down a narrow alley my senses were on overload and I recall looking up at the blue sky above, thinking that I would like to be anywhere but here.  I was crushed with culture shock!



Our group was led into a restaurant that was decorated ornately in mostly reds; velvet curtains, brocade wallpaper, Persian rugs; all a little garish.  Maybe an interior designer’s nightmare but it felt rather cosy as we settled against our pillows. 

 

 The menu was soup, chicken, lamb shishka bobs and couscous and it was very tasty.  One of the ladies in our group stood off to the side and looked a little ashen.  I think she was shaken by what she had seen outside and apparently had no appetite for Moroccon cuisine.  We were amused to watch a trio of pudgy ladies who performed a belly dance.  A quintet of men entertained us as they sang and played instruments while we dined.

From the restaurant we were escorted to a store that displayed many beautiful Persian rugs.  As soon as the retailer realized we were not interested in purchasing one we were aggressively herded downstairs where a variety of leather, brass and ceramic goods were on display.  From there we were led out in the street where once again the hawkers pounced on us.

On the way back to port we stopped so those who chose to do so could ride on a camel.  The poor camel cried out in distress every time he was forced to kneel so that another tourist could clamber upon his back.  I have to admit my husband was one of those tourists.  He just didn’t realize that the camel was likely in pain.

At the port we were informed that the boat picking us up would be late due to heavy fog in the Strait.  We just milled about chatting with the others from our group and one lady told me that a local boy had been eying my camera that hung on my shoulder.  About fifteen minutes later we heard sharp slaps and we were told that the security people had caught a young man trying to pick someone’s pocket and they strapped him on the spot.  It made me even more diligent about hanging on to my camera.  When the fog finally lifted we cruised back to Algeciras for a very late dinner at our hotel.

SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION

Six degrees of separation is the theory that anyone on the planet can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of acquaintances that has no more than five intermediaries.

Here are examples that happened to me:

While disembarking the tour bus in Algecirus, Spain I couldn’t help but hear two elderly ladies talking about Dutton.  Now to most people, including myself at one time, the word Dutton would have meant nuttin (I couldn`t help myself) but a girlfriend of mine was born and raised in that little hamlet west of London, Ontario.  This I explained to the ladies and they asked my friend`s name.  I replied that I didn`t know her maiden name but that she now lived in Newmarket.  `Oh that must be Lorena`s daughter` one lady replied.  I had to be in Spain to meet people that knew my friend`s family.

I was in Vancouver visiting my oldest brother who due to the high cost of rent in Kitsalano lived in a large house with four other people.  At the dinner table I discovered that most of the others were from `out east` meaning Ontario.  I was chatting with one young lady who revealed she was from London, Ontario.  Now I know nary a person in London but I did tell her that my cousin and his wife owned a restaurant in south London.  `Not Marty and Gail` she asked astoundingly (already knowing the answer) and when I nodded she told me she used to wait tables in their restaurant. 

My oldest son Dan drove a tow truck many years ago and went on a call in Niagara-on-the-Lake to change a flat tire.  It turns out that the driver was Dutch so Dan told him that his mother (me) is Dutch, that she came to Canada with her parents.  The man asked Dan, where his grandfather came from in Holland.  Dan told him Herkingen, not expecting any reaction as most people didn`t know where that is, even people in Holland.  This man excitedly told him that the man in the back was his father and he was from Herkingen.  Even more surprising was the elderly man in the back knew Dan`s grandfather.

We were in the airport in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico and had offered to watch traveller's luggage as they went for a refreshment.  While sitting waiting for our flight we struck up a conversation with another couple beside us.  We asked where they were from, discovered they were also Canadian, also from Ontario and then to our mild surprise they informed us they were from our city.  Imagine our total surprise that it turned out they were country neighbours who lived about 2 ks from our house and that our son Jeff was their paperboy.

 

SEVILLE

We crossed the Guadalquiver River into Seville and I was instantly struck by the beautiful architecture.  It was reminiscent of the buildings we had seen in Guadalarja,, Mexico and of course that was no surprise since it was the Spanish who had conquered the Aztec Empire in the 1500’s. 

Getting off the bus in the Jewish Quarter we could smell the fragrance of orange blossoms and were told the fruits are bitter but the trees were planted simply for their fragrance and hence their name.

Our guide informed us that unemployed people are made to strip the matured oranges from the trees before they start dropping.  The Jewish Quarter was charming with andalusion architecture, narrow streets, small courtyards, and plenty of shops and restaurants.  The guide pointed out the hotel where Don Juan had courted his ladies. 

We toured the Cathedral of Seville, a massive structure adorned with stained glass windows.  The altar at the front is made of 2000 kilos of gold and was roped off from the public.  I think we could feed the world with all that gold.  We climbed up the adjoining tower called Giralda and enjoyed a view of the city below us.  Cruise boats filled with tourists glided slowly by on the river.



In the plaza outside of the Cathedral gypsies hawked postcards and thyme branches.  These ladies are very aggressive.  One lady tapped me hard on the chest when I was inattentive to her sales pitch and was admiring the scenery before me. 

 

 

 

 

 

We stopped for lunch, eating tapas el fresco and enjoying a beer in the warm sun. 

Much too soon we had to return to our bus to continue on to Algeciras where we would be spending the night.  Seville is on a plain and as we headed south the terrain became more hilly to become mountainous near the coast.  I will never forget the feeling I had when cresting a steep hill I saw another continent on the horizon.  I was looking at Africa!

 

A Mindful Way

There is a book I studied entitled “A Mindful Way” Eight Weeks to Happiness.  It is written by Jeanie Seward-Magee, with a foreward by Thich Nhat Hanh,  a Zen Master.  It is a practical guidebook that offers a path toward self-realization and spiritual growth.  It teaches that mindfulness is the foundation of a happy and fulfilling life.  This book has made such an impact on me that I hope others will seek it out. 

One night a week for eight weeks myself and four friends would meet to read chapters aloud from the book, discuss what we had read and during the week do our homework answering questions regarding the chapter that had been studied that week.  One of the big lessons for me from reading this book is to live in a state of gratefulness.  I kept a grateful journal and every evening I wrote 5 things I was grateful for that day.  It can be the simplest of things, a comfortable place to live, a phone call from a friend, food in the fridge, a car to drive; all of the things we tend to take for granted.  I learned to live in the moment and enjoy the moment I am in without looking back with regret or anxiously look into the future.

 

“Being mindfully grateful is a way of allowing our life to flow, rather than letting events get in the way and cause us much grief and unhappiness”

Jeanie Seward-Magee

 

Each chapter had a segment called Mindful Memoirs concerning various decades of one’s life depending the age of the reader ending in questions regarding that period of time.

The questions prompted me to recall my past regressing as far back as age 4 when I still lived in Holland and from those questions and answers I felt compelled to write my memoirs and once I started I couldn’t stop as memories flooded into my consciousness.  I finally stopped writing at thirteen pages (single-spaced) but was reluctant to print them out; every time I edit or revise what I’ve already done so far I want to add more stories.  I intend on presenting my memoirs to each of my four granddaughters but fear they may lose interest if I make it too lengthy.  Slowly I have added another page but I just can’t seem to completely bring my memoirs to a close.

I have written regarding the two chapters that impacted me the most.  The other 6 chapters are also well worth studying.

SLEEPY HOLLOW

We went riding on our motorcycle with Jim and Kim, two retired cops from New York state.  Just south of Inverness we cruised down a picturesque road that meandered along a marshy river.  We stopped for lunch at a place called Sleepy Hollow, a place another motorcycle friend had seen on a former ride.  The windowless building looked like a gigantic chicken coop as the walls and roof were constructed of corrugated steel.  It was situated along the river under huge oak trees, Spanish moss draping from their limbs. 

“Bikers Welcome” read the sign out front but upon entering the restaurant I concluded that we were not the typical bikers that frequented this eatery.  Several tough looking men were perched on stools at the bar.  The woman who took our order had a hard edge to her and was also the cook and bartender.  “We don’t have any coffee” she replied in a cheery tone to my request for one.  Imagine, a restaurant that doesn’t serve coffee.  Our ice water was served in huge, styrofoam cups and lunch was presented in styrofoam takeout containers accompanied by plastic cutlery.  Behind the bar was a sign, “we don’t call 911” and beside it a photo of a gun.  The washrooms doors were designated, “Sows” and “Boars”.  A man at the bar who we surmised to be the owner seemed unconcerned about offending any of the patrons as he repeatedly seasoned his loud conversation with foul words.  Well this sow has to pee,” I said getting up from the table, leaving the others laughing. 

You know the old adage, “don’t judge a book by its cover”.  The food and the service was very good at Sleepy Hollow.

 

Goldfield and the Superstition Mountains

The weather down here has been very chilly, a cold front from Canada

they say.  Yesterday we decided to look for a giant Flea Market that

we had heard about that is located in Mesa, which is about an hour south east of here.  Mesa is considered part of Greater Phoenix and is southeast of Scottsdale that is also part of Phoenix.  Jack and Lauren, the owners of the Black Canyon City KOA had given us a gift certificate for Applebees so first we stopped for lunch.  Despite reading directions on the internet for the Flea Market, somehow we missed it.  I had seen an interesting mountain range (Superstition Mountains) to the east and urged Fred to continue on.  Fred is convinced that I had planned all along to sightsee rather than frequent a Flea Market.  I guess the fact that I had brought along my camera was his rationale but anyone who knows me, knows also that I usually bring it with me.  I never know where we'll end up and I hate seeing something interesting or beautiful and there I am wishing I had brought my camera along.

On the Apache Trail, opposite the Superstition Mountains, is the old mining town of Goldfield.  We wandered through the town, watched cowboys stage a gunfight and mainly people watched.  The town is  your typical tourist stop offering food and drinks in the saloon, a

train ride, tour of the mine and the most visible building at the top of the hill is the "Bordello", now a museum.  Close to Goldfield is Lost Dutchman State Park, named after a fabled gold mine.  This park offers guided hikes as well as self-guided ones.  There are easy hikes, moderate ones, difficult and very difficult ones.  The

one that intrigues me is the 2.5 mile hike where hikers experience the sights and sounds of the desert under the silvery glow of the moon with a marshmallow roast to follow.  We have already experienced full moons in the desert and it is unbelievably bright.  The park also offers astronomy programs one evening a month.
 
We continued northeast along the Apache Trail and the topography here is much different than where our campground is located.  As I was behind the wheel I had to concentrate on staying on the road as

there were many switchbacks and no guard rails.  The scenery in Arizona varies so much that each road trip is an adventure and I look forward to the next one.  I am also anticipating warmer weather so that we can have some great motorcycle rides.

 

 

 

Arizona with Janis and Lloyd....winter of 2007

With Janis and Lloyd here from Ontario we are keeping quite busy.  On Friday we went down to Phoenix to ride our bikes on the canal trail and once again we drove past Camelback Mountain (the one I climbed a few weeks ago).  On Saturday Fred and I drove the motorcycle to Wickenburg to meet up with Janis and Lloyd who had driven there earlier (we were working) for the "Goldrush Days".  Unfortunately we missed the parade that featured 1,000 horses, saloon girls, cowboys etc.  After rendezvousing with the Nelsons we watched a rodeo for an hour or so.  The bleachers were full when we arrived and because the corral is in a valley we were able to watch from the top of a hill without paying admission.  Whenever the announcer introduced any cowboys from the Canadian prairies Janis and I would hoot and holler enthusiastically.

On Sunday we drove down to Tempe as there was a Greek Festival at the Tempe Town Lake.  We tried some Greek beer, Janis sampled Greek wine and we all tried some fried cheese.  We watched the cook saute the cheese in a frying pan and then just before serving it he drizzled it with brandy.  It was delicious but very rich.  Of course one can't attend a Greek Festival without eating a Gyro  (pronounced heeroh) and while we ate were entertained by young dancers attired in colourful costumes.  The Festival was not well attended and after an hour or so there was little else to do so off we drove to a Swap Meet in Apache Junction.  This Swap Meet had about 1600 booths and there was something there for everybody.  We bought a new RV mat that we badly needed.

After leaving Apache Junction we drove up to Carefree and Cave Creek that is just north of Scottsdale and is very scenic as the mountains up there are so different from the other mountains in Phoenix.  It is as if a giant tossed humungous boulders from above and large, million dollar homes perch on top of these boulders.  One thinks immediately that one shudder of the earth would bring catastrophic results but Arizona does not experience earthquakes.  We made a quick stop to view a 62 foot sundial that points directly at the North Star.  Solar time is 27.7 minutes different than mountain time so while looking at the shadow of the sundial on the numbers below, you must add those minutes to tell accurate time.

Today we drove to Prescott (locals pronounce it press-kit and know you are a tourist if you say it any other way), a pretty town that houses many retired northerners.  The focal point of Prescott is a massive courthouse that serves all of Yavapai County.  Tall trees line the walkway and these are the first tall trees that we have seen in Arizona south of Flagstaff.  We ambled down Whiskey Row, stopping for a latte and peeked in shop windows at the western-themed merchandising in most.  Prescott is known for its Victorian homes that both Janis and I simply adore, so a walk to find them was on our agenda.  They are not as majestic as most Victorian homes are, a bit more compact but pleasing to the eye nonetheless.  Pretty lace curtains in windows, windows with leaded panes and porches that invited you to sit a while were pleasing to our senses.  While walking past one house we smiled and said hello to a lady just unloading her car in the driveway.  Janis mentioned how pretty her house was and to our utter surprise she asked if we would like a tour.  Would we?  You bet.  Even our hubbies followed in behind us.  The house had been built in the early 1900s and was absolutely charming.  One room led to another and each room had high ceilings, wooden wainscotting, old fashioned lace curtains and beautiful oak furniture that was clearly antique.  The owner uses the house as a halfway house for women with drug and alcohol addictions and this setting must surely be conducive to making one feel at ease.  What used to be the front parlour was the owner's bedroom and the focal point was a beautiful corner fireplace.  She showed us the old fashioned front doorbell that has to be wound up.  When someone rings, it would wake up the dead, it was so loud.

From Prescott we headed toward Jerome and on a hill overlooking a lake we had a tailgate picnic lunch, not aware that just around the corner was a park with an abundance of picnic tables.  After crossing the Mingus Mountains we stopped in Jerome for a while and continued on to Sedona where we did an hour hike surrounded by the red rocks that have made Sedona so renowned.

 

 

I Must Be In Canada

Today while on a daily walk with my husband we encountered a young lady walking towards us on the sidewalk; her head was down, eyes averted, refusing to acknowledge our extremely close presence.“We must be back in Canada”, I muttered wryly.

We have just returned from another winter stay in Florida where a friendly “hello” or “howya doin’ is common.  I am accustomed to people my own age being friendly but in the south it is not only the seniors who acknowledged us and it had nothing to do with being nice to tourists as this time we were house-sitting in a typical working class subdivision.

It is pubescent boys shooting hoops in driveways, others skateboarding down quiet streets and girls of all ages that called out affable greetings leaving us a little startled but appreciative.  While riding our bikes through a neighbouring subdivision we were surprised to hear a friendly “hello” from the dark depths of an open garage.  A young father unloading groceries from the trunk of his car looked up and shouted, “how areya”? 

On another bike outing we had stopped to enjoy an ice cream when three Brighthouse (cable TV) trucks pulled in.  Every one of the young men who emerged and walked past us uttered a pleasant greeting or made an engaging comment.

I guess the term “southern hospitality” must have originated in Florida.

Now please don’t misunderstand me.  I am as Canadian as the next person and proud to be so but I never found Canadians to be as friendly and outgoing as people in the south.  I have spent the last ten winters there so have given this some serious thought.  I have come to the conclusion that we Canadians appear to be less friendly but it is only because we are a bit reserved.  I have decided to be the one to say hello first, the ice will be broken, and I will expect a cheery reply. 

I regret not “breaking the ice” with the aforementioned young lady.