What Gives My Life Juice?

I've been in a quandary for the past few months about "What to do about the future?" Where do I live, considering it seems I can't find a place to live that I like? But that's not quite true. When I let my thoughts and feelings ramble outside their box, what I discover is that I end up in Mexico again and again. I must return to Mexico, to re-visit Merida and San Cristobal. I must see Palenque and Oaxaca. Aiyeee . . . . yes. When I think of all the places I've been, it's Mexico that calls me back the strongest. I loved Merida, I thought it was one of the most beautiful cities. It's not really. It's just a plain city, all square blocks. But I felt so safe there. A city of one million people, people who walk, people who stroll around the large central park every evening, people who gather in the town center to watch traditional dancers and musicians. I love it. Did I say that already?

Beach near Merida

I think it's fair to assume that when I think about doing something or going some place and I get those wonderful, excited feelings . . . then that's exactly what I should be doing. I can't face settling in to some "nice" senior apartments yet. I'm not crazy about Junction, though I think it will function as a home base someday. Just not yet. I'm certain that I want to spend this coming winter in Mexico. Nothing else will do.

A Moment in Time

Claudia and I have opted for a ferry ride on the Bosphorus. The boat is crowded; a veritable stew of people from all over the world. I settle down on an inside bench, out of the wind and next to a man a few years younger than myself. Somehow in our greeting conversation I learn that he is Iraqi.
"Do you like Americans," I ask?
"No," he replies.
My casual traveler-meeting-traveler facade collapses and tears well up in my eyes. "I'm so sorry," I say. "I never wanted this war. I cried for Iraqis. I cry now.".
No more words were spoken between us, but our worlds had been bridged and our hearts had touched. We spoke silently of the suffering of being human and our inability to ease the suffering of others. And yet we did, in that moment, do exactly that. I was able to give voice to my grief and he was able to understand and forgive. Was this moment the reason I left Armenia early and traveled to Turkey? Just to meet this one Iraqi, to apologize to him, and to receive his understanding back? It feels that way. It's one of the most powerful memories of my trip.
A few minutes later we have regained our composure and another passenger takes our photo. I notice that our heads are tipping towards each other and we are both smiling.

 

"I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do."  Helen Keller

Good Morning!

I suppose everyone will be out shopping at the mall all day. I'd love to go too, but alas, I must wash my hair and feed the cat today.

On another note . . . 

The Happy Place

I think I should be able to find it. I keep looking.

Okay, so this is me. I want to travel almost all the time but I also want a home base. Unfortunately, I can't seem to afford both. I want to live some place for awhile, then travel for awhile. An RV or trailer of some sort seems like an ideal solution. But I've yet to see even one affordable (under $500/mo) RV park in Colorado that I like.  So until I can find a place to put it - other than in a storage lot - I'll wait to buy it.

A New-Comer's Eye View

I'm new to Grand Junction. When traveling, one of the first things I do when I enter a town is get my bearings. I walk. I step out my front door and I walk the street in front. Then I go around the block. I gradually make longer arcs until I know very well where I am. In this way, I also get a feel for the local culture and people.

So I decided to greet Grand Junction the same way. The fact that Junction was not built with walkers in mind doesn't daunt me. That in itself tells me a story. When walking around a city or town, I like to see what people are doing, how they go about their day. Grand Junction, it seems, was built with the car in mind. It's streets are mostly laid out in square grids. Sidewalks line most of the streets, but very few people walk along them for pleasure. Students scurry about the campus but other than that it seems the sidewalks are only used by those who have no other means of transportation.

In search of a place to walk where I didn't have to deal with traffic noise and exhaust and where I could find a little nature, I stumbled upon Connected Lakes Park on the western edge of town. Its winding path is lined with giant cottonwood trees and follows along the river. I meet other walkers here but it's never crowded. People go there for the quiet and solitude so one can sit quietly by the lake or on the edge of a field to observe wildlife and be assured that others will respect that. It has a very restful feeling about it. Its winding tree-lined path is in sharp contrast to the angular and barren city.

Good Morning!

Welcome to a New Day on Planet Earth! Awesome, eh? Awesome and weird. We open our eyes, we breathe in, we breathe out. I pick up a cup which miraculously holds liquid, even though it is made of nothing but energy and space. I turn my head and direct my hand to lift the cup; I swallow and feel pleasure. Then I return to typing. The most hideous-looking creatures all climbing all over me right now. That little itch on my head, that tickle on my neck. They are grooming me, happily munching my dead skin. I look around and know that I am. How weird and awesome is all that? 

wikileaks

All focus is on Assange, not on the content of the material. Well, perhaps there are many right now sitting at desks high in the sky poring over them letter by letter. I'm sure. But the media, the government. Their reactions have been interesting. Actually, they've been frightening. It seems that we the people are expected to give up every sort of privacy in our dear war on terrorism. To the point that I must allow some goon at the airport to grope my crotch if I want to fly. However, those in the government live so much in secrecy that they can't conceive of living in the open. I see fear on old Hillary's face when she speaks, and it seems to be a personally felt fear. That is, not fear of some abstraction in the future. I swear, she almost looked like a lizard when she spoke out against Assange; her eyes were large, they darted; her skin looked pale, she seemed a little breathless. The most interesting thing about all of this is that it seems to be bringing the rope in tighter around us. Who's surprised? Any excuse. Our freedom shrinks to nearly nothing. They have reacted with knee-jerk quickness. New "Patriot Acts" to follow. Taking any bets?

Touching the World Outside my Door

People just don't know what they miss when they don't walk. I get such a sense of a place when I walk around it. I've been walking and bussing the streets and trails around GJ the way I do other new cities I visit. I occasionally see others out on the trails: couples walking their dogs, middle-aged men jogging, an older couple, a man with his kids. The trails are used, but not much, which suits me just fine. Nevertheless, the city is trying . . . .

What gives?

I just went to http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/v/voltaire.html to find one of Voltaire's quotes and found this gem, "An ideal form of government is democracy tempered with assassination." There are many others. Quite the wit! Perhaps I should read some of his writing too. Though at the moment I'm deep into two books. I'm about half-way through Broken Circle by Rodney Barker. And I've picked up a second book to catch up with the Intermediate English reading group at the library. It's a little book, The Circuit: stories from the life of a migrant child by Francisco Jimenez. Very straightforward telling of life. I'm always amazed by writers who can recapture that childhood experience without overlaying their adult mindset on it.

Grand Junction transit

I hopped on the bus yesterday and went downtown. A buzz by the library to pick up a hold then to the Main Street Diner for coffee and a cinnamon danish. Then I walked and took pictures like a tourist. I took pictures of the sculptures, the street scenes, the bus station. I rode the bus to Hobby Lobby on North Ave and bought some yarn, then back again. I watched people getting on and off and reflected that here public transportation is for the poor and that's partly why few will ride it for "green" purposes. It needs an image uplift. The buses are clean, the bus station is new. They only run hourly and only on the major routes but it's functional; one can get around. There were still significant stretches of walking between rides so I arrived home with sore feet and calves from all the pounding on the concrete. But it was fun. A soak in the spa fixed the soreness.

Today I guess I'll go back to the library to pick up a book on the Continental Divide in Colorado which I want to hike next summer, fill out a couple more job applications, then go for a long walk in that lovely country just outside of town. Now that it's finally cooling off - this has to have been the hottest October in Grand Junction in forever - walking in this "high desert" is a pleasure.

Downtown Grand Junction

Armenia

I sometimes strongly wish that I could have stayed in Armenia for 2 years. I drift back there in my memory and begin to re-settle in.

Then suddenly I remember all the challenges . . . .

But I met some wonderfully strong and beautiful people there who will remain in my heart forever. And if prayers and blessings have any power at all - Oh I hope they do! - then Armenia will prosper now and in the future. Sadness engulfs me when I think that I may never return there. And truly, who can know what the future brings?

I finally got around to driving up to Grand Mesa. The fall colors are just beginning: dry mountain slopes were covered in rust and gold; cascades of yellow and orange poured down the ravines from the top of the mesa. I was wanting to get up there and see some GREEN - and I did and it was lovely.

What I couldn't capture with the camera were the scent of the evergreens and the sound of the wind through the forest. There was almost no one else up there. I saw a few people near the parking area and trailhead but I saw no one else on the trail. It was eerie to walk along this wide, well-maintained hiking trail, complete with benches, and not see anyone else. Grand Mesa doesn't offer many grand vistas from the trails. It's mostly flat land - a relative concept in Colorado - okay, it's mostly a rolling forested landscaped, dotted with natural and human-made lakes. I don't enjoy going to Grand Mesa in the summer. There are lots of people up there then but the worst of it are the mosquitoes. They are large and fierce and persistent. In the winter it's a big cross-country ski and snowmobile paradise. This time of year is just perfect as far as I'm concerned. Not many people, the mosquitoes are gone, it's cool, the colors are outrageous.

Isn't that photo lovely? Aw, I don't know if I can capture just how beautiful it is there without the smells and sounds.

They say a picture is worth 1,000 words. So here are 3,000 words ~ adieu

Addicted to Spending?

I seem to have this craving to spend money since my return. It's kind of crazy. At first it was fun to buy this and that - new stuff for the home mostly. Then I bought myself some much needed clothes. But it's the other, frivolous stuff that I'm doing that is different. I signed up for cable television. (I canceled after one month. Such dribble.) Then I bought some silly video games off the internet. And I seem to be spending spending spending. It has slowed down, but I still sometimes must go out just to buy some hooks or scotch tape or something. When Beth lived with my mother for awhile she nearly went mad with Great-Gramma's requests. She would make numerous trips to the store just to get little things, or one item only. Could this be a family trait? So, I fought off the "spending addiction" by my cancellation of cable tv and by not buying any more silly computer games. Majong is enough. :o)

The weather has been maw-velous, simply maw-velous. At last I'm able to get out and walk in the surrounding public lands. It's such beautiful country, but harsh to walk in during the summer. One rarely thinks of landscapes like these when thinking of Colorado.

I captured a more classic Colorado scene a few weeks ago while camping with Michelle near Vickers. I drove my poor little car up this awful road, then we walked for about a mile to an old mining site. The day was perfect: warm and sunny. Michelle and I climbed to the top of the mine tailings then explored the old buildings.

Konrad and Sarina were refusing to enjoy themselves and looked on this excursion as a death march. I find it amusing to observe how each generation believes they are the ones who know it all and yet we endlessly repeat our ancestors' lives without knowing it. My grandchildren go through the same life phases that my children went through and that I went through. At 12 & 13 they're just not into this hiking stuff. It's boring. They did enjoy their excursion to the top of Cottonwood Pass, though they acted like it was murder. But secretly they were really enjoying themselves, I could tell. :o)

A Little Bit Like Finland

Today Gretchen and I went up on the Grand Mesa, just to stroll through the woods and look for mushrooms. As it turns out it was a fine fine day for both. I gathered a bagful of chanterelles and boletus'. So the next step on my agenda today is to make a pot of mushroom soup.

The weather was remarkable. This is really the best time to be there. There are fewer tourists and virtually no mosquitoes. The temperature was in the high 70s. The unfortunate part of it is that the nearest pine tree to my house is still 50 miles away. You can see the stark differences in the landscape here. If I go slightly west, I hit landscapes like this:
But if I drive east, I find landscapes like this:

The Sound of Silence

I feel as if I'm floating in some other space and time. I've been on the go since I arrived home 3 weeks ago. Camping all week, then daughter and grandkids here in GJ for 3 days. They just left and everything is now eerily quiet - just the tapping of my computer keys and the drone of the refrigerator. And my tinnitus. This will pass, this will pass . . . .

The cable company dropped by Friday afternoon and I said, sure, Y-not? $30/month, no contract. Let's see what television is like these days. We watched some the past couple of days. Very interesting, very interesting. I didn't really 'grok' it. A lot of reality television, which I think is just normal people being filmed as they go about their affairs. They are so bizarre. I particularly like the interesting ads for condoms. It will be fun watching it, like being a new arrival from a distant planet.

It's hard to tell what the economic state of GJ is. The houses around the center of town look a bit rundown, though the downtown shopping area looks vital and there's lots of new housing. The streets, sidewalks and bridges are being repaired under the Stimulus package. Lots of new stores. So it feels like it's prospering overall. Interesting.

Rollin', rollin' . . . .

I barely arrived home than I took off for a 10-day camping trip, which was shortened by two days by cold and thunderstorms. We drove out of the Collegiate Peaks campground on Thursday in a rain of hail and a lightning storm. Michelle and grandkids have come to GJ to visit for 3 days instead. Here it's hot hot hot. I wanted to go to the National Monument yesterday, but by 11am it was already getting sweltering and we decided to jump in the swimming pool instead.

I of course haven't settled into any kind of routine yet. Mostly I've just been packing and unpacking, touching base with people, trying to figure out what my next direction is. There is no lack of volunteer opportunities. Paying work may be another story. :o) We shall see. GJ looks like a boom town. I can't believe how much construction has taken place here in the past two years. I guess this is all part of the economic stimulus package. Seems like a good idea - roads being repaired, bridges, city landscaping. It's good.

I was going through my photos, looking at Tblisi photos, what a fun weekend that was, what a pretty place. It's so hard to keep from having that surreal dream feeling as I look back over the past year and a half. Before I left for Armenia I had been traveling in Mexico and Central America. So in the past 18 months I've visited 20 countries!: Mexico, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Armenia, Thailand, Dubai (UAE), Georgia, Turkey, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia, Switzerland, Estonia and Finland. It becomes most amazing to me when I spell it out like that! Especially considering I spent 10 of those months in one country. Whew. I'm tired. I think I'll go back to bed.

A Few Days in Switzerland

20 June 2010, Saturday
“There is no such thing as development in general; there is only the development of the one or other or third or fourth or thousandth person. There have to be as many developmental processes as there are human beings on the earth.” Rudolf Steiner

Spent a wonderful day in Basel with Ruth, Walter and Rowenna. I don't know if Basel is listed among the top 100 cities in the world to visit, but if not it should be. This was my second visit to Basel and I truly love it. It's a beautiful old city, full of rambling cobblestone streets, vine=covered rock wall and lovely architecture. I must say too that it felt good to be back among that which is familiar and feels like home: familiar faces, food, music, culture.

Ruth and I met up with Walter and Rowenna at the train station after shopping around stores looking for “gummiesteifel” (rubber boots) for our upcoming trip to Finland. We headed then directly to the restaurant for Pizza. I'm stil suffering from sticker shock around here. Not only is everything more costly than in all the countries I've been traveling in, it's even significantly more costly than in the US. Lunch cost $20. That's per person. That's no drinks, no salads, no frills. Just a good pizza. Okay. Onward.

After lunch we wandered around Basel, shopping for boots and enjoying the culture. We finally found some reasonably priced boots, sandwiched in between two concerts at the Music School.

Oh, the wonders I have seen . . . .
A kinetic ferry across the Rhine. A cable stretches across the river which is attached to the prow of the ferry. By turning the rudder one way or the other and pointing the ferry upstream, the ferry will be pushed by the force of the water as it crosses the river.


An environmental education art show to raise awarenes of the importaince of not littering. The display Rowenna is pointing to uses a play on the German word “Grullt” which means “rubbish” but remove the double “l” and it means “to rest” or “to relax”. The sign says, “Rubbish by the Rhine” or “Relax by the Rhine.”


Here Walter points to the sign standing by each display which gives directions to the nearest trash can.


Beautiful fountains all around the city.


Great street performers. Drop a few coins in the hat and the Golden Man and his dog will come alive. The dog begins to bark and the man toddles to his feet as if his bones are old and aching, googles his springy eyes at you, opens a pocket on his chest that reveals a large plastic heart, and blows you a kiss. Then he carefully sits back down and pats the air above the dog to quiet him down. The best franc spent all day. :o)


Whimsical fountains. I must include 3 photos here. This is a pond in one of the central parks with a set of whimsical, mechanical fountains. First is a close up of one of the pieces, a machine with a sieve which eternally scoops up water and lets it drain out. Second a photo of several of the machines working. And last, the wonder and fascination it engenders in observers (Ruth and Rowenna).

Beautiful architecture everywhere you look.

A concert in the park to raise money and awareness for all the refugees (fluchtlingstag) who have been forced to flee their homelands and find save haven in Switzerland. This was a really good Basel raggae band. They gathered quite a crowd and had every jumping.

On Sunday afternoon, Ruth and I attended a 4-hour production of the Magic Flute put on by teachers, students and residents of a nearby anthroposophical school/community for children and adults with special needs. This was a remarkable performance in all respects: the costumes, stage settings, and performances where all near professional quality. Most remarkable of all though was to see the community members, those who are learning to cope with such challenges as down's syndrome and autism, in the performance. Really, really remarkable. This school/community houses some 50 residents, has a school for children, many of whom live at home with their families and come to school for the day, and has workshops and gardens. They have a bread bakery, a pottery shop, a bio-dynamic garden and farm animals. Bread, vegetables and pottery are created for their own use as well as for sale in the community at large.

Next Chapter

Well, I've been hanging out here in beautiful Bled, just vegging, and I guess I should have been using my time more productively and journaling the summation of all my experiences. But believe me, just because I haven't written my thoughts and feelings down certainly doesn't mean I haven't had them. To paraphrase Dylan Thomas (I do hope he'll forgive me): "My day begins with the water-birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name above the farms and the white horses and I rise and walk abroad in a shower of all my days." He says it so beautifully. Yes, I do. I walk around the lake and over the hills and along the mountain paths and through the villages "in a shower of all my days." I continue to feel so blessed by this wonderful gift I've been given: the opportunity to travel as I've always wished to, good health and a spirit willing to step into the unknown.

I was walking down the street today and thinking that I've dropped down into so many different towns and cities in the past three months that now none of them are disorienting any more. No matter what, I step out of the bus or the train or the tram or the taxi, big city or small town, and I don't feel confused or lost or fearful (I'm not fearless - I have all those feelings during my travels). I study the map in advance and always think it will look familiar when I step out, but no. What I find is never what I expect. The map is flat - the town is wrapped around a series of hills (photo to the left was taken near Berat); or, there are so many little dead-end streets with no name that they can't possibly put them on the map; or, I'm dropped off someplace completely unexpected and I have no idea where I am; or, lo and behold, they don't use the same alphabet; or, none of the streets are labeled; or, the map says "library" but Slovenians say "knjižnica". But not to worry. I just simply no longer feel confused or overwhelmed. I just look around and start walking. Or sometimes (like in Ljubljiana) I just stand in the rain in the middle of a crowd pushing to get on the tram and ask loudly, "Does this tram go to the train station? Anyone? Does anyone speak English?" And some kind person will tap me on the shoulder and point to where I need to go or say, "Follow me."

But I guess I've veered from the topic. Or have I? What is the topic anyway? While writing this I got busy sending emails to everyone. I'm just getting ready to board the night-train for Switzerland. No more internet for awhile. I don't know what the situation will be like in Switzerland. With any luck I'll be able to get a connection at Ruth's house.

A Walk Around Bled

A stream that runs into Lake Bohinj (Bo-heen).









A lovely church in a nearby village.

An old hay-drying rack.

I'm a Tumbleweed

I try to remember when I was first bit by the travel bug. I believe it was when I was about 8 or 9 years old. I grew up in a small mountain town in Colorado - Idledale. And it was. We had two grocery stores, a post office, a 3-room school that taught 8 grades and about 500 residents. My mother worked in Denver, about 30 miles away. Occasionally my younger brother Jon and I would stow away in the backseat when she left for work in the hopes that she wouldn't discover us and we'd get an exciting day in the big city. But I digress.

My first real memories of wanting to travel began when I had an older friend, a surrogate grandfather, who owned shelves and shelves full of National Geographics. I would go visit him and curl up in a chair with an armload and dream of the day when I would travel to all these exotic places.

I'm a Lucky Girl!

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” Martin Buber

Friday, 28 May 2010

The ship from Dubrovnik to Hvar

This was a long day. Last night I spent the night in a hostel in Hvar which was just too much like a freshman college dorm. Everyone had their stuff thrown all over the room and it was party, party, party. Hvar is beautiful, but it's a sailor's and a college kid's paradise.

View of Hvar

Ahhhh . . . if I were a sailor, what a lovely place to sail it would be! But I'm neither a sailor nor a freshman, so I woke up very early, grabbed my bag and headed down to the port to catch the 6:30am catamaran to Split - another beautiful coastal town with a castle on a hill above it.

Split

Expect high-priced stores (where I treated myself to a beautiful scarf), and lots and lots of sailboats. I had made reservations in a hostel in Split, the only reasonably priced one I could find online. But when I arrived the scene was the same as Hvar: very small room with bunk beds crammed in and absolutely no place to walk, the floor covered with clothes and everything imaginable. So I begged off, saying I was feeling sick and didn't think it would be a good idea for me to sleep in a such crowded room.

Then I put my stuff in a locker at the train station and wandered around for a few hours trying to figure out what to do. I went from internet cafe to tourist information office to train station to bus station and back again. I finally decided to leave Split and continue on to Plitvice Lakes. Unfortunately, I really didn't have a clear idea what the lay of the land was or where I would be staying. Everything I could find on the internet was either no help or in Croatian. The tourist information office had information for Split but didn't seem to know about anything else in the country. Likewise the folks at the bus and train. I finally dashed off to the market for some fruit, bread, cheese and yogurt and jumped on the 12o'clock bus.

It took 6 hours to get from Split to Plitvice. The bus dropped me off at 6pm in front of the Plitvice Lakes Park entrance. The offices were closed and there was no one around. I had a place picked out to stay but had no idea how far it was from the park entrance. I tried hitchhiking for awhile but it was obvious no one was going to stop so I began walking. Within about 3 km I came to a small region called Rastovic. This is near the second entrance to the park and there was gated parking and a restaurant and a sign that said “rooms for rent.” A nice young woman who spoke English made a phone call for me and soon Antonio showed up to take me back to his lovely home. So here I am in the home of Antonio and Bora.

It's common throughout Croatia to build a house with rooms to let. The owners live in one half and rent out the other half. Croatia is beautiful. Plitvice is a tourist site and a main source of income for locals. Their is spotless and tidy. I plan to stay here for three nights, one whole day in the park and one day to relax and go for short walks.

Sunday, May 30, 2010
Homestays near Plitvice Lakes (Jeszera) National Park
There are two entrances to Plitvice Lakes NP, both of them on Hwy E71, the main road between Split and Zagreb. The Park is on the west side of the road. Approaching from Zagreb you reach entrance #1 first. Entrance #2 is 4-5km further on toward Split. Continuing south toward Split another 2km is the entrance to the small village of Mucinje (pronounced moo-seen-a), again to the west of the highway.

There are many small towns and villages along the road, mostly not visible from the road as the vegetation throughout this region is very thick. However, if you walk about 50m you will see several houses and apartment buildings, many with a sign for rooms or apartments (zimmer) to rent. What's really nice about Mucinje – well, next to the people there of course – is that it's only a 10 minute walk along a gravel path though the forest from Mucinje to the park entrance. How sweet is that? I stayed in two different homes. My first stay was limited to one night because a large group was coming the next night and they had no more available rooms. So my next two nights I stayed in another homestay. The first house was the home of Antonio and Bora Gaspar, Mukinje 49, 53231 Plitvicka jezera, tel: 053-774-322. I had a private room, a private outside entrance and use of the kitchen downstairs.

My 2nd and 3rd days I stayed with Rade and Mirjana Cuic (Chuich), Mukinje P-8, 53231 Plitvice Jezera, Hrvatska (Croatia), tel: 091-19447800.

Here again I had a private room, shared bath and use of the kitchen. Both places where I stayed offered meals at an additional cost – a wonderful bonus as there are only expensive restaurants nearby at the hotels in the park. Expect to pay 20-30 euro there. I can't imagine a better way to visit Plitvice than to also enjoy the wonderful hospitality of the Croatian people.

Even if you are unable to reach either of these homestays in advance (neither has internet presence at the moment), you can just show up and almost be guaranteed a stay somewhere, as nearly every other home has rooms to let. The economy is still suffering from the war, but tourism is growing and homestays is one way that you can contribute to the local economies and local people. In exchange, you will have a rich experience that will be the highlight of your trip. And save money to boot!

Plitvice Jezera is a World Heritage Site. Remarkable turquoise travertine pools, lush vegetation, waterfalls and the sound of water bubbling, falling, rushing, splashing . . . .

Monday, May 31, 2010
Talk About Great Planning!
I had exactly enough kuna to take the bus from Mucinje, Croatia to Zagreb, then the train on to Ljubljana, Slovenia. And . . . . . . buy a cup of coffee and use the toilet once. :o) Marjana, my homestay host in Mucinje, had packed a lunch for me which saved the day! What very wonderful people. They made my stay in Croatia so special.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Lake Bled, Slovenia
The final stop on my solo journey. After this I go on to Switzerland, where I'll stay with Ruth for 10 days then we'll continue on to Finland for 3 weeks.

I thought that Lake Bled would be very touristy and expensive and that I would only spend a few days here, then move around some more in search of peace and quiet. But it turns out that the tourist season has not quite begun and I share this beauty with only a relative handful of others. This will be my base for the next two weeks to explore the surrounding region. There are mountains to hike in, beautiful scenery, a lake, a castle, a train ride through the mountains that will take me to the Mediterranean and Italy. What more could I ask for?

I keep thinking what a really miraculous and wonderful trip this has been. I really can't describe it any other way. The trip was so long that it was impossible for me to plan. I had a few marker dates to meet but other than that I was completely free. Ruth's schedule was such that she wasn't free until the end of June. Sirkka had a week in July free when we could visit. And so I purchased the tickets to fly from Switzerland to Finland on June 25th. My flight home would be on July 23rd. So between early April when I planned to leave Armenia and mid- to late June I was completely free to follow any agenda at all. I can only say that a Divine Wisdom much greater than myself has gifted me with the answer to a lifelong wish, and I am eternally grateful. It has been wonderful beyond all my imaginings. I have passed through so many different countries, times, and cultures. I have met so many beautiful people. And all of it unplanned.

Sometimes people say to me, “Oh, you're so brave to travel alone.” Mostly these are US Americans who say this. I meet many other travelers out here soloing, or if not soloing, then at least not afraid to solo. I can only say that if someone sees it as brave, it is only because they have no trust in their own ability to take care of themselves, and no faith in the essential goodness of humanity. Those are the only characteristics required for solo travel throughout the world. Well, that and a desire to meet people and make new friends. Everywhere I go, people are people. No one ever says, “Oh, you're so brave to go to the grocery store in Denver by yourself.” But to go to a grocery store in Croatia? Oh, my, one must be very brave indeed. Now, isn't that silly? No one ever says, “Oh, you're so brave to go hiking along the Highline Canal by yourself.” But go hiking on a well-trodden forest path in Slovenia? Oh, my, how brave. It's so very sad how we frightened human beings are of each other. Our fear of each other is the cause of our hatred and wars. If only we could reach out to one another more instead of closing our doors and our minds in fear . . . .

I remember an exercise we did during EST training. We were put into a very relaxed state, then told that everyone around us was out to get us. I went unconscious during the process and when I awoke, people were screaming and vomiting and crying. Really crazy. But it is so true that we are terrified of one another. Our own species, and we are terrified of one another.

My lesson, for those who choose to listen, is that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. I do believe I'm not the first to say that. Fear is an invisible cage. We create the bars ourselves, then we look out of them and say, “Look at those terrible bars,” as if our view of the world is real, as if what we have created is the truth. The truth is that this earth is our home, other people are our species, and we're never going to get out of this place alive anyway. So what is there to fear?

Enough of that. I've had a magnificent time, and I'm now in a beautiful place where I'll have the opportunity to write, read, and reflect. I'm staying in an old boarding house, built in 1909. I feel happy here, as if there are friendly ghosts hanging about, as if there has been much love and happiness within these walls. I feel as if this house likes me, and I like it. Is that silly? I don't think so. :o) The owner tells me he was born here, in room #8. When I told him I felt a lot of love here, that many good things had happened here. He said, yes, people had died here but no on had ever taken their own life here. That, he said, is not a good thing. The spirits of those who die violently leave a negative energy behind. My room is furnished simply. Two twin beds, a bureau for my clothes, a small round table and two chairs, a dressing table with mirror. The foot-board of one of the beds has someone's name carved in it, a child's handwriting. All the finishes on the furniture are original so there are many marks and chips. An old ceramic sink hangs from the wall by the door and a tall hot-water radiator heats the room in the winter months. There's a large window, almost floor to ceiling, covered with a lace curtain. The flooring is a lovely wood parquet, the wood slightly warped with age.
The sun is coming out! I must close this down and go outside to enjoy.