Chocolate Musings…

Chocolate Done Up Right

Here’s the thing. I was rolling through my photos for inspiration for a new post. I uploaded a photo from the Prague Jewish Cemetery and something went wrong. I had to delete that post, and then, in scrolling back a little, I found this photo of our chocolate extravaganza in Vienna.

Enough with the Death Musings, says I. How about Life? And isn’t Life all about Chocolate?

Sadly, that’s exactly how my thought processes went. I share it here in my effort to remain an honest and clear writer. Or else to just further embarrass myself. Perhaps that’s is one and the same thing?

It has been a stormy tossing tempest all day today. The waves have been surly and dark with incredibly white froth capping each curl. They have stormed the beach while the tide brought them closer and closer and then pulled them back. Didn’t matter, they just kept at it.  Which made me think, chocolate chip cookies would be a good thing. A life-affirming choice so to speak…

And so, I would like to say, that in spite of the doldrumish weather, I found hope in cookies and a cappuccino and now a big smile, remembering our time in Vienna.  That is one fine town. And it was made even better when we met Gunther and Gina and spent the evening with them. How hospitable was that? Perfect strangers who took a couple of Canucks to…wait for it! The Vienna Cemetery. Seriously, I didn’t ask for it and it was on my list of places I’d wanted to get to and voila! they offered to take us there to visit.

We got there just as it was closing and starting to be dusky/dark, which of course, made it even better. The graves of Mozart and Liszt and who knows who else are these huge masoleums in the misty grey immensity of this cemetery. It was amazing.

And then we went out and ate the biggest piece of schnitzel I’ve ever seen. I got about halfway on that thing. It was really a wonderful night and a highlight from our trip. I’m hoping they come visit in Canada.

And did I mention the chocolate cake? And the struedel? And the cream cakes?

Ahhhh… Vienna.

Mennonite Musings…

Saskatchewan Mennonite Funeral

 I remember the first time I found out that most people didn’t have photo albums full of dead people. I was in grade eight and I brought my new friend Connie home for a visit. We were looking through photo albums when she pointed out that it was weird to have so many, well for that matter, any (!) photos of people dead in their caskets.

Well who knew?

So, this is one of my latest collages, a sort of homage to my mother and her mother and the whole Mennonite mom motif. 

It reminds me that I come from strong stock. Women who stared at Death with clear-eyes, kneaded bread into submission with strong arms, and scrubbed clothes and kids until their knuckles were raw.

To this day, bleach is one of my favourite smells. I really grew up with a strong sense of clean. Mom often said, they may have been poor but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be clean. Our scrubbed-up house was testament to that obsession.

I know for a fact that I was the only kid on our street that had to scrub the outside of the house, starting at the gutters and working my way down the pink and yellow rough-cedar siding.

So this collage is in honour of that little blonde-haired five-year old who would grow up to be my mom. She is standing with some of her siblings. The five-day old new twins aren’t in the photo. This is probably at their home in Osler or Warman, Saskatchewan. Not sure, maybe my aunt will tell me.

But for now, this is what I have; an old photo, a bird’s wing that I found in our back yard, a rusty hinge from the old outhouse building that we now use for our push mower storage, a little bit of wasp paper that floated down from the skies, a prairie wheat stalk, a smashed saucer with Mother in gold script & a rusty spoon that I found while digging. All of it is set on a background of old fashioned wallpaper.

Everything to me is about the ephemeral nature of life. Broken, oxidized, decaying and torn from its original manifestation and more beautiful because of its very brokenness.

Message from Mikulov

Czech Republic

 

In that famous cemetery in Prague’s Jewish Quarter you will find hordes of tourists.  Here in Mikoluv, you need to be let in by the young woman with the key. She is the daughter of our cycling tour’s owner, Tom Leskovjanova.

Here, we wandered alone, among 15th century headstones. Headstones that had been stacked and layered to create the next terrace that they filled with dirt in order to bury more people.

The Jews were restricted from expanding their cemetery, or anything else for that matter, so they built up. Layers of soil and old headstones created the next level of ground for burials. There is now no clear idea how many thousands of bodies are layered beneath our feet as we stand in the shifting light.

There are no Jews left in this city, but there are about ten dedicated people who call themselves the Friends of Jewish Society. These are the people, like Tom and his daughter with that huge skeleton key, who have made a small museum, the volunteers who transcribe and record each headstone so when people come to trace their ancestors, the work has been done.

Ten people with no Jewish background, but the profound understanding that all this needs to be remembered and dignified by the very act of remembering. They honour their town’s history that at one time included 12 synagogues. There is one left, it’s now a museum. A museum that Hitler helped to build in his perverse plan to create a remembrance of the very people he was intent on annihilating. I find myself shaking my head even as I write and remember it again.

It stuns me. Our capacity for hate, and then, seeing young Barbora Leskovjanova with the cemetery key and her passion in telling these stories, our capacity for love and redemption.

In a different cemetery in Trebon, our guide Lada Ptacek translated the words over the gate, it read: 

“As we are, you shall be. As you are, we once were.”

What to Pack

Journeywoman.com is a great site and just sent out an email requesting women travel writers – in 150 words or less – to contribute their best travel tips for an upcoming newsletter.

It got me thinking,and once it was done,  I thought I’d post it here as well. It was fun to think about, though to tell the truth, I had to ask two of my girlfriends if they knew what my tips might be.  Considering they’ve both traveled with me on some pretty long journeys, it was illuminating to find out what they considered to be “my things”.

It was also cool to see it from their perspective, as so much of what I do now is kind of second nature, so I needed their wonderful outsider eyes. They told me some of this list and then I was actually able to drum up the rest.

Thank you Dee Dee Sjogren and Karen Judd, my fellow JourneyWomen.

 

What to Pack…

 

1) Open Mind

2) travel candle & matches for atmosphere in your tent/room/cabin/toilet.

3) sarong to use as a sheet, a wrap, or as…a sarong

4) Humour

5) Cipro – stop severe cases of gastro-intestinal distress

6) headlamp – easy night reading

7) universal sink stopper, twisty-stretchy clothesline. Use hotel shampoo to launder.

8) Love

9) two-colour theme (ie: black & grey or white) so everything works with everything else in your carry-on bag.

10) scarves to brighten up those two-colour outfits.

11) costume jewelry to help make that aforementioned same black shirt look like a completely different outfit.

12) Empathy

13) compact nylon bag that zips into its own pocket, for any “extras” that need to come home.

14) Melatonin – avoid jet lag.

15) Compassion

16) old clothes if traveling in developing nations – donate as you go.

17) earplugs, eye mask and lavender oil. Drip lavender onto a tissue to line the pillow case – perfect sleep.

18) Equanimity

Prague Postings…

Contrasts

 

 

Crystal shops, especially Swarovski, are everywhere in Prague. I was fascinated that this man had set up his busking spot directly in front of the advertising poster in the window of this exclusive shop. I’m not sure what the instrument was, but it was eery and very minorly-cool music.

Everywhere we looked, capitalism was in its glory. It’s hard to believe that the communist regime had only ended twenty years before. It seemed like there wasn’t a corner that didn’t have something for sale.

I think we were in the best corner of Prague there was. We were hosted by the uber-grooving Buddha Bar Hotel.  I can honestly say I’ve never before used a remote control for my toilet but in our lovely room #39, we had exactly that…a button for the bidet, one to save your favourite settings for water temperature, the dryer – the whole shooting match. 

There was a remote for the curtains too, but really, we didn’t need to strain ourselves by doing that, as the nightly turn-down service did it for us when they delivered the tray with the weather report, the chocolates and a fresh orchid. It can be so annoying to have to shut your own drapes dontchya think?

Previously, during this five-week trip, we met a lovely couple from Colorado. Ken asked, what I thought was a pretty good question, that is; “Do you think your hotel enhances the experience of your stay in a particular place or does it detract from it or does it not impact it at all?”

I wish I could be above all that, and say, it’s just a place to sleep. I have slept in some rather dodgy places, including less-than-stellar hostels and crappy campsites. I can honestly say I’ve pretty much done the range of experiences as far as sleeping arrangements go. And the really horrible places do make for great stories. But I finally have an answer for Ken’s question.

“Yes. The hotel makes a difference. My memory of Prague is much different because of the Buddha Bar Hotel indulgence.”

It was great to have such a jewel of a place to regroup and retreat from the hustle of Prague. It was lovely to lay in the big soaker tub and pretend this was my world…even if it was only for a few days. 

And you know? A girl could get used to the town car limo service to the airport too.

Clearing Space

 

 

Starting the Day

I’m running out of excuses…

I can - of course – and have indeed, used the following:

We’ve only been back for a week, I need to time to reflect first, the laundry is all over the floor, seeing friends is more important, no point in working if I haven’t exercised, I need to send out more queries on other stuff, I need to upload my photos first,  I haven’t heard back from that new editor yet, and yes…this is only a partial list, but even I get bored with my own bs.

The facts are really rather simple. I need to write two 3000-word articles. One on the incredible trip in Hungary and the other on the equally wonderful trip in the Czech Republic. Both trips were organized through www.BikeToursDirect.com.  Might I digress for just a moment? Apparently it’s what I do. Digress, that is.

The deal with Bike Tours Direct is rather simple but also unique. In fact, I think Jim Johnson is the only guy doing this. He’s basically the agent/broker for over forty European bike touring companies. His website is a one-stop shop for all things to do with European cycling. And because he deals with companies over there, the prices for us over here, are much cheaper than some of the fancypant companies out of the U.S. and Canada.

You know the ones? With the uber-glossy catalogue that causes you guilt once you’ve perused it and thrown it in the recycling bin?  The one with the prestige factor as if you’re trying to “make a statement” by going on a bike trip?

Hello?

Instead, Jim’s company (I feel I’m on a first-name basis with Mr. Johnson, as my husband Kevin and I spent a week cycling with him on the aforementioned Hungary trip) doesn’t bother with all the frou-frou stuff. Rather than that, he personally meets and recommends and promotes cycling companies that are run by the people living in the country you’re traveling in.  What a concept.

So, instead of somebody in Boston reading a good guide book and traveling to Romania with you so you can learn the stuff together, you get a guide like Lada in the Czech Republic, who grew up under Communist rule and can tell you the stories of his grandpa patrolling the iron curtain.

Or you hang out in Budapest with Gabor and his lovely girlfriend/partner Sophie and listen to him talk about how he started his company with a couple of bicycles in his dad’s garage.

And in both countries you drink a lot of local wine and eat more pork than you thought humanly possible and you smile while gliding down a hill and smile while you talk to new friends and smile while you drink more wine.

This post is my attempt to begin to write those stories. I was really hoping this would get me started. I do after all, seem to have lots to say about the subject. On the trip, and since I’ve  been home, I’ve consumed books of fiction written by Czech and Hungarian writers, watched Hungarian and Czech films and  reviewed the guidebooks.

I’ve even eaten some more ham.

I think if I just cleaned up my office first.

And sharpened my pencils.

And probably if I sorted out the pens that are no longer working and filed the newest magazines that I brought home from the trip…then I could get at it.

Word on the Street – Handout

 

This post is for the people who will be attending tomorrow’s The Word on the Street panel discussion on travel writing. I’ll be speaking with Daniel Wood and Anthony Dalton at the Vancouver Public Library.

Of course, it’s also for anyone interested in writing, and more specifically, travel writing.

I’ve listed some books that I’ve found particularly helpful. The four books that I refer to over and over are Stephen King’s On Writing, Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life and Natalie Goldberg’s Wild Mind. They are always engaging, encouraging and inspired.

Recommended Reading:

The Writing Life                         Annie Dillard

How to Write                              Richard Rhodes

Write From the Heart              Hal Zina Bennett

Bird By Bird                                 Anne Lamott

Beyond the Words                    Bonni Goldberg

The Renegade Writer               Linda Formichelli & Diana Burrell

The Forest for the Trees         Betsy Lerner

Long Quiet Highway                Natalie Goldberg

Wild Mind                                     Natalie Goldberg

Living the Writer’s Life            Eric Maisel

Stein on Writing                          Sol Stein

On Writing                                     Stephen King

A Sense of Place                          Michael Shapiro

Get a Freelance Life                    Margit Feury Ragland

Art of the Pilgrimage                 Phil Cousineau

The Sound of Paper                     Julia Cameron

The Artists Way                           Julia Cameron

The following websites are great for news in the business of magazines and writing. Finding magazines that specialise in your interests – and especially new start-ups – that haven’t already got an established bunch of freelancers can be a great way to break in to a new market.

Websites:                                                                  

www.masthead.ca

www.woodenhorsepub.com

www.atmstravelnews.com

www.writtenroad.com

www.travelwriters.com

www.mediakitty.com

www.magazine-directory.com

www.bootsnall.com

www.gonomad.com

www.perceptivetravel.com

www.worldhum.com

www.stumbleupon.com

Home Again

A Different View of Budapest

We’re back from five weeks of travel. We started in Budapest and ended in Prague.

Here’s one of the reasons I travel…so that if I’m old and infirm and stuck in a rocking chair, images like this one will scroll through my brain. I’m hoping that I’ll have a bit of a grin stuck on my face as  I review all that I’ve seen.

Come to think of it, forget the rocking chair. Since we’ve been home, I’ve found myself sitting and staring out the window and realize I’m thinking about something I saw or heard or a conversation I had and trying somehow to assimilate all these thoughts and new ideas into one place.

Budapest is a great city. Not because there’s models balancing on bridges, though that was kind of cool, but for the cafes, the great metro system and yes, even the House of Terror. It all added up to another layer of understanding as to what some people have had to survive while the rest of us in the New World merely read about it in our textbooks.

Did I mention the pork? And the palinka? You gotta admire people who can start the day off with a shot of booze that could ignite a small building with its fire. And why aren’t they fat? I’ve never consumed so much meat at every sitting in my life.

We stayed at the perfect hotel. If you find yourself in Budapest, make sure you book this one. A screaming deal at 85 Euros and stuffed with elegant charm.  www.gerloczy.hu

Word On the Street

Rusty Keys

Word On The Street – September 27, 2009

We’re leaving for Europe tomorrow morning at some ridiculously early hour. At some point, after hours of airports and lounges and seats and coffee shops and that suspended animation that traveling throws you into, we will eventually arrive in Budapest to start our first cycling trip.

It’s all sounding pretty darn fine & I’ll hopefully be updating this as we travel, but meanwhile, I’m looking ahead to our return on September 22nd.  We’ll be home in time for my part in Word on the Street. I’m part of a panel on travel writing. Hope to see you there…

Here’s a link to the site. .http://www.thewordonthestreet.ca/wots/vancouver/whatson/writingtalks#

Maasai Sandals

Goodyear Keeps Going

I was scrolling through my Africa photos from November 2007. Found this photo of a Maasai’s sandals.

Most of the Maasai we saw were either barefoot or wearing these homemade retreads.

I think of my sandals here at home; Tevas for kayaking, Privo flip-flops, Birkenstocks for walking and don’t even ask about the regular shoe collection, or the boots for fall, or the running shoes or hiking boots or slippers or dolly-dress-up shoes…

The shoe topic all by itself is enough to make one realize the disparity in our different worlds. We don’t even need to talk about other ’stuff’ at this point.

Just think about your footwear and then look at this young man’s only pair of shoes.

Told you gratitude was easy to cultivate…