back from the lands

We're back from our trip to the Lands (Eng-, Fin-, Ire-) and like all great holidays away, we're so happy to be back home. Enjoyed a tour of Cambridge, had tea and scones at Grantchester (communing with the spirit of Virginia Woolf) and saw the cathedral and stained glass museum in Ely (pronounced EEL-ee). I have long loved academia. The whole dedication to learning and subsequent freedom from poverty (in my family's history) has been a strong influence in my life.

Beautiful Cambridge University...but you are not allowed to walk on the grass, grasshopper, unless you wear the robe of a professor.

But lately I've begun to rethink the manner in which we revere academics. The system of measurement is effective in many ways but in many ways it devalues much of what makes wisdom so profound. I was surprised to find the atmosphere and history of Cambridge off-putting.

Stained glass panel in the Ely Cathedral

All that glorified hierarchy is reminiscent of every type of class stratification. Only the Fellows (professors) can walk on the lawn, plum dorm assignments are based on academic performance and many wear their robes to class. Perhaps I am just freeing myself from...or widening my view of the value I placed on being a scholar nerd. I still love learning and history and words. I'm just less impressed by the way we measure such things.

All told, the close of such an adventure is bittersweet. Every place had its own smell and taste and beauty and contradiction. The 360 degree sounds of foreign languages is disorienting and delightful. The sound of English spoken with so many accents was wonderful too. The ability to do all this in my current unemployed state and bring Barbara's mother along as well makes me grateful for the material comforts I have in my life. Traveling with your mother-in-law can be trying (for her more than me, I suspect) but her joy and satisfaction with seeing these faraway lands will put a smile on my face for many years.

...Not to mention the way traveling makes you feel about home. I have many issues with our nation and its politics but love for country (and Houston, Texas in general) is strengthened, not weakened, by seeing other places. Mostly, I am grateful to Barbara. This was our 25th anniversary celebration (our anniversary is technically next month but I don't fancy Northern European temperatures in late October/early November!) and our 5th trip to Europe in 15 years...and we had such a great time. Being able to talk through the stress and share the joy of whatever we're doing is such a boon. I never tire of adventuring with her!

póg mo thóin said the sheep

We've spent 4 days and 3 nights in Ireland. We stayed in Dublin, Killarney and Galway. It's absolutely beautiful. And though generalizations about cultures are full of logical fallacies, the Irish have been markedly friendly and funny. You can find tons of gorgeous photos online about Ireland but Barbara snapped this rather unusual one:

The sheep seemed put out.

The Ring of Kerry tour in Killarney included a demonstration of shepherding by a heavily brogued shepherd, two incredibly well-trained border collies (Bess and Sam, as I recall) and a bunch of long-suffering sheep. It was very impressive.

vacation reminder

from today's Writer's Almanac

The Word

by Tony Hoagland

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between "green thread"
and "broccoli," you find
that you have penciled "sunlight."

Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing

that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds

of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,

but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,

—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.

land of the vowels

Happy 9.10.11! It is Saturday and we're in Helsinki. Days get folded into one another when you're on vacation. It feels like Friday or Sunday or Thursday...

Billy Elliot marquee in front of the Victoria Palace Theatre.

We left the U.S. on Tuesday evening and spent the night/next day traveling, an evening in Cambridge with our dear friends Rich and Christy and their son Matthew, then a full day and night in London. We road in the top of a double-decker bus and toured London for a couple of hours (descriptive), saw Billy Elliot (delightful) and sat in a pub drinking beer and eating fish & chips (delicious).

Yesterday we flew to Finland. Helsinki is a great city. Beautifully designed, fairly easy to get around on bike or tram or on foot. The only challenge is deciphering street names that are so chock-full of vowels you barely figure out the word before the tram is at the next stop.

All in all, the weather has been amazing. In the 60's during the day, 50's at night. In London there was a bit of drizzle but mostly it was dry. Helsinki is sunny and unusually warm for this time of year.

Iida with her fashion-forward hat and sweet face.

Since I am (voluntarily) Julie, Cruise Director, it has been hard not to be "on" at all times. That and short nights of sleep have left me little time to write or pause.

So, off for a short walk and perhaps a little reading for me tonight. I am happy for an activity-free evening.

Tomorrow we join our dear Maria, her husband Janne (/YON-uh/) and their beautiful daughter Iida (/EE-duh/) for a walk around the market and some dinner at their house.

a-gaelically we go

We are about to embark on our 25th anniversary holiday (I'd say vacation but we're going to the UK, so holiday it is) to Cambridge, London, Bath, Dublin, Killarney, Galway and, for one lovely long weekend, Helsinki to visit our host daughter Maria, Janne and their daughter Iida (whose name I will be able to pronounce better at the end of our visit). My dear mother-in-law will be traveling with us. Her excitement (she's never left this country...or even the South, for that matter) is infectious--places we've been will be new because we'll be sharing them with her. So the undercurrent of excitement and fretfulness this Labor Day weekend is underway. Preparations and anticipation. One of my goals is to see as many local artisan, fiber, wood, pottery, etc. places as possible. I've been searching, mapping and plotting all morning.

I am bringing my trusty laptop. If I am not too wiped out, I plan on chronicling a few days of our adventure, particularly in Ireland where we've never been before. Stay tuned...

Oh, and by the way, last weekend I participated in a Landmark Forum. It's a long story and not sure I'm willing to tell it all right here. My daughter invited me and it was an intense, irritating and profoundly transforming experience. I am dealing with my rejection of all things organized while I must admit much good came from it.

P.S. My favorite Gaelic phrase so far: Póg mo thóin! (pronunciation here, impossible to figure out from spelling) which means Kiss my ass! So easy to imitate, I'm sure I'll be tempted to use it. Inappropriately.

question

What percentage of airline ticket holders have never ridden in a car? How about not ridden in one in the past 30 years?

My guess is less than one-percent edging towards zero.

So why lecture us on the complexity of operating a seat belt? Who out there over the age of three is still stymied by the buckle mechanism? One wonders why they're not demonstrating how to flush the toilet.

"Place index and middle finger onto the lever. Push down. Then, release. Check bowl for success."

If they are going to approach us as if we're imbeciles, how about reviewing the following during the pre-flight presentation:

VOLUME
Use your fucking inside voice. There are people's ears uncomfortably close to your blathering pie-hole and the only way they'd be less interested in your "story" would be if they were dead.

Harsh you say? I don't think so. I've sat in front of blowhards trumpeting their entrepreneurial virility, drunken escapades and vast, tedious knowledge of oil pipeline geography for hours. With voices that bludgeoned right through space-age earplugs crammed so deep into my auditory canal they rubbed shoulders with my eardrum. Just shut it or lower it.

GRAVITY
When they say items may have shifted in flight, they should also threaten to drop a roller bag on anyone who blithely yanks open the overhead bin in the rush to stand sardine-like while waiting for the door to open.

COMMUNICATION
Our personal space is critically violated for the length of the flight. In our regular life, we'd move or shove anyone encroaching on us this way. SO, follow this simple rule: if you seat mate is wearing earplugs and reading a book, that mysterious signal is code for I'm not interested in having a conversation. Not about your grandbaby. Not about your sports team. Not about your latest acquisition and dear Lordy, not about your relationship.

FOOD
Since the airlines have gone all cheap-ass on us with their wee bags of pretzels and nuts, folks often bring along a little something to tide them over on a long flight. Roger that. But since you're within copulating distance to the person next to you, how about avoiding the sardines? The egg salad? Perhaps the haggis can be enjoyed in the insulated comfort of your own home? In a practical sense, you want to reduce the likelihood of your noxious-smelling foodstuff triggering the gag reflex of your reluctant bedfellow.

OFFSPRING
Finally, if at all possible, stall the baby's nap and mealtime until the flight takes off. That way, a little boob* or bottle will send the darling off to dreamland. If the baby is a toddler, BE PREPARED. Sorry, but this is more critical than the space shuttle checklist. New toys to play with. Snacks. Drinks. A change of clothing when they puke. PLASTIC BAGS to seal the vomit- or excrement-covered clothing so your entire section does not feel like they just shifted from coach to open-sewage class.

Children will not be as polite about sitting still in cramped spaces as adults. They are simply acting out what we've all been conditioned to keep under wraps. Totally understandable. Much as I like the idea, I don't think we should drug the little fuckers. What to do: use all the resources available in your parental survival kit. Entertain them with plush toys, juice boxes, electronic gadgets, chex mix, music, etc. When possible, walk them around. Aside: Do NOT allow them to roam unattended down the 15" wide aisle. The drink cart will win and, by god, the audience will cheer.

I have been far more irritated by grownups (a group including but not limited to idiotic breeders) while traveling than by children. If I witness a parent doing all of the above to keep their child happy and well-behaved to no avail, I have nothing but compassion for them.

Airline attendants, it's all yours. Look, I don't envy your job. It doesn't look like fun. But neither is cattle class...try not to take it out on us. Oh, and by the way, unless you are really funny, stop trying to entertain us. The microphone is not your karaoke machine.

*Anyone who has issues with breast-feeding a screamer into silence at 30,000 feet should be thrown out of the aircraft.

writing, woodworking, wishing

Ernest Hemingway about his writing:

I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, 'Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.'

—Ernest Hemingway, quoted on today's Writer's Almanac

This for me and for my dear Eric.

I've also been reading, in between the house-fixing. And traveling. And breaking bread with my beloved family and friends. I can't write about that now because as I left my son yesterday at the Portland airport, I realized that the only thing I could concentrate on to prevent the tears I'd like to keep so neatly contained was ripping wood on my table saw. Thinking about that methodical and dangerous process edges out the grief. Funny that.

But real grief is losing those you love...this to keep perspective.

I miss him. Dearly. But seeing him again is as dependable as my reality. I will wake tomorrow, in all likelihood, and I will embrace my son and laugh with him again some day, as well.

all good things

I wrote to a friend:

The last full day of vacation tempts some people to begin mourning the inevitable end. But vacation time is too short to waste a single minute whining about going back to one's "regular" life. Besides, one should love great swaths of one's "regular" life and not hate to return to it.

But still. I have waited to see my firstborn again these 18 months and am hard-pressed to keep every seam of my resolve sealed against sorrow. It leaks in a bit.

In my inner dictionary, his face illustrates the definition of joy.

if it's friday this must be eugene

There are few things more wonderful than being transported from a hot, muggy Houston summer into a lovely, temperate Eugene summer.

But one of those things is getting to spend time with my boy. I am delighted to be here.

anniversaire

My birthday in Paris has been perfect. Clear skies, cool weather. The Louvre was wonderful. We'll go to dinner in a little while and drink French wine with the decadent meal of my choosing...
Must sign off now because I need to change and this:

A Z E R T Y U I O P
Q S D F G H J K L M
W X C V B N ? . / §

The keyboard is a bit challenging.

wrapping up summer

It's been a busy summer. Lots of company and socializing. Which, while a bit tiring, has been very satisfying. But blog-sucking. I find myself full of ideas and sans time and energy.

I'm working on a few little projects that I'm going to post soon. I'm also beginning my things to see and do in France research. I love researching once-in-a-lifetime trip activities. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to make this trip. Dad says that this is the worst time to go to Europe because the dollar is getting the shit beaten out of it by the euro (okay, that's not exactly how he put it). I told him, yes, turning fifty is not an event that fits conveniently into one's schedule.

That silly nod to tired humor about aging aside...people, I am not unhappy about turning 50. Swear to god, I'm just getting started. I've never been so excited about what's ahead. So many things to do, mountains to climb (she said figuratively) and adventures to have.

homage to travel

Cheap GPS

That xkcd guy is a ninja: he read my mind. I made this very same joke while we were getting lost adventuring in Florida last week. Okay, maybe we're both fucking ninjas.