NEAT IDEA

THE FAIRY TREE

Melbourne is one of my favorite cities. Known as the Garden City it is the capitol of Australia’s smallest state, Victoria. One out of every seven acres in the city is a park and nearly one quarter of the inner city is set aside for recreational purposes. This added to the multitude of flowers and trees creates an atmosphere of rural tranquility in a busy city. It was nice seeing so many working people spend their lunch hour in the parks.

Fitzroy Park was a delight. I visited it on my first trip down under and made sure to get back there on my second trip. The gardens were named after Sir Charles Fitzroy, Governor of New South Wales in the mid 1840s. The gardens are over 150 years old. Jan and I walked through the park several times on the way back to our boutique hotel, but I wanted to make sure she saw the fairy tree.

A miniature fairy village is in the park there. Across the pathway, a large tree needed to be cut down several years ago which left a large barren stump. But instead of digging the stump out of the ground, a lady requested it be left and sought permission to carve the stump. The very talented lady carved fairies all around the trunk. What a wonderful scene she carved! Children are not the only people who enjoy this most unique display and I hope will last for years.

ONE FAMOUS DISTRICT

AMSTERDAM’S RED LIGHT DISTRICT

         Before I left home on my first European trip my son-in-law suggested I see the red light district in Amsterdam. After dinner our first night in the city I asked to be left off the bus at the district. My guide was shocked that an old lady would be interested in such a place explaining, “The streets are too narrow for the bus. I will make an announcement and we can let you off near by and point you in the right direction. I can show you how to get back to the hotel.”

        Nine of us hardly souls got off the bus and walked the street and canal bridges covered with red lights. Walking along the narrow street on each side of the canal we viewed scantily clad girls parading around or sitting mannequin-like in large picture windows that were also outlined in red lights. We wandered down one side of the canal and back up the other side. None of us was quite prepared for the most incredible and unbelievable sight.

        We learned the girls are licensed, legal prostitutes. The lack of pimps eliminates violence such girls often put up with. Frequent medical exams make the world’s oldest profession relatively safe for the girls.

       Earlier in the day, while my traveling partner slept off a headache, I had wandered the streets around the hotel and made note of a couple landmarks. I do NOT have a good since of direction. Now, in the dark, eight people were relying on me to get them safely back to the hotel—the hotel name that none of us had taken note of! As soon as I saw the train station I knew how to proceed. However, the ally where I had shopped and eaten lunch looked very different at night when everything was dark and closed up! We all walked into the hotel lobby just as it started to rain.

         On another trip to Amsterdam I wanted Jan to see the district. Again it was arrival day and by dark we were pretty tired, but it was a case of now or never. Our guide walked a group of us to the area. This time I noted the cobblestone walks along the canal were rather uneven in many places. I hadn’t noticed before all the small alleys that run off the main canal.

        It was not totally dark, but many, many prostitutes were lounging in their windows in all degrees of undress. Most were young, white, and nearly all were smoking. We all felt it was a sad way to make a living. From the numbers it looked like competition might be very tough---but then again I’m a female. We even saw an occasional sign stating that a window was for rent. Many of us felt uncomfortable and as if we were intruding. 

A Surprise

COCA TEA

When getting ready to go to Peru for a four day hike into Machu Picchu I read that coca tea was helpful in combating altitude sickness. Walking my neighborhood one day I ran into a neighbor who asked me where I was going next.

“I have a trip to Peru planned, “I told him.

Alarmed he replied, “My sister-in-law went there and got so sick she had to be evacuated to lower ground. What are you going to do if that happens to you?”

Flippantly I said, “I’ll just drink coca tea like the natives do.”  He was too stunned to continue the conversation, and I really didn’t give it much more thought.

You can imagine my surprise when entering the hotel lobby and found a huge thermos full of hot coca tea. We found it listed on every restaurant menu. I did drink a lot of it while in country and never had any problem with altitude sickness---even at the 13,350-foot high pass.

It tasted very much like any herbal tea. I found a commercially packaged box of coca tea bags to bring home to share with friends. After reassuring them that they were not going to get high, sick or anything else, most enjoyed the novelty of drinking something different---maybe forbidden. I did not chew any coca leaves as many natives do, using it as a digestive aid, and I certainly did not try to bring home loose coca leaves. I prefer to respect our custom laws!

AN ARTIST'S PARK

FROGNER PARK

I’ve visited several sculpture gardens but never one like Frogner Park in Oslo, Norway. The park is much loved and respected with no fences, police or graffiti. The park is large requiring a good while to wander and to see the Vigeland sculpture collection. Steps lined with voluptuous stone figures, is a popular place to sit, congregate and contemplate.

There was a light rain on arrival when we disembarked our ferry, but fortunately it stopped mid morning and remained clear the rest of the day. The 75-acre park holds the life works of Gustav Vigeland (1869-1943). In 1921 he made a deal with the city that in exchange for a studio and support he would beautify the city with a sculpture garden. He worked on site from 1924-1943. Each of the bronze or granite figures is unique. There are 600 figures in all. He also designed the landscaping.

Gustav Vigeland first visited Oslo in 1899.  He drafted plans for a fountain and presented them to the city in 1905, but the project was rejected. However, in 1914 he was asked to do the fountain, but by then his plans had expanded. WW II interrupted the completion of the park, but it was finished in 1960.

            

There is only one Vigeland sculpture outside Norway and that is in a Norwegian community in Fargo, North Dakota. There are an additional twenty sculptures in Norway outside of Oslo. Otherwise his life’s work is in the park. He married twice and had children by his first wife. After that divorce he lost contact with his children. He said they distracted him and interrupted his creative process. When he died he left everything to the city which was fine with his children who felt they never had a father. Vigeland took that name after his grandfather’s farm

          

  A 100-yard-long bridge over the river has four columns, one on each corner. Three depict man fighting a lizard, but in the fourth one a woman  succumbs to the lizard’s embrace. The theme of the entire collection is the relationship between people. In addition there are 59 sculptures along the bridge rails. Off to one side of the bridge is a circle with nine children who represent the nine months of pregnancy.

        

    A symmetrical rose garden, located half way between the beginning of the bridge and the monolith, represents eternal life. Then comes the fountain of life—his water fountain. Six figures hold up the fountain, the burden of life. The fountain is surrounded by twenty trees of life. The figures on the trees depict life from birth to death, the seasons of life: childhood, young love, adulthood, and the winter of life. Sixty bronze reliefs around the basin develop the theme further. The large patio surrounding the fountain contain 150,000 pieces of black and white granite forming a mosaic with many twists and turns representing the labyrinth of life.

           

The world’s largest monolith is the centerpiece of the park. Thirty-six large monoliths surround it, each carved from a solid piece of granite, again representing the cycle of life. The monolith and its 121 single figures is cut out of a single piece of granite. It took three stonecutters fourteen years working daily to complete the 180-ton, 50-foot tall erection. Vigeland lived to see the monolith raised.

         

   The entire park is a masterpiece and it was a delightful visit that took several hours. There was so much to see and absorb.

INTERESTING TID BITS

STORY POLES

You may be more familiar with the term totem pole, and if you haven’t been to Canada for several years you may not have heard the term story poles. The word totem is actually an American Indian word, but it seems early explorers thought native peoples worshiped totem poles. This is not at all true as the poles tell a family history. The history of totem poles is long and interesting so long story short for several years now Canadians have referred to totem poles as story poles.

Along this line the terminology of Indian, Eskimo and any other ‘old fashion’ term for the native peoples has been replaced with First Nation’s People or peoples. Personally I like this descriptive name absent of any kind of connotation. Both of these terms have been incoperated into Canadian English and are widely used.

ONION vs HELMET DOMES

Like most people, I thought an onion dome was an onion dome. It was not until I was in Russia that the difference of an onion dome and a helmet dome was pointed out to me, and if I recall correctly it was in the Kremlin.

Onion domes definitely look like onions and are probably the most popular and widely used dome. They abound on churches and are a common sight in many Eastern European cities. When one knows the difference it is easy to spot a helmet dome. They do look like a soldier’s helmet of old. These domes are seen  less often and are pretty rare in the United States.

My home town does have both domes in its city’s square that can be  seen and easily compared from a vantage point in the county court house.

TIBET and the YAK

TACHI DE LAY (hello)

Getting to and from Llasa,Tibet is not always an easy thing to do. Sand storms and wind often delay or cancel flights as getting though the cut in the Himalayas can be tricky. We had a very early wakeup call as we were scheduled on a 7:20 AM flight from Chengdu, China to Llasa. Boarding passes, airport tax, tickets and other necessary documents were taken care of for us by our guide.  Then we learned that people going to
Lhasa the day before got sand-stormed out and were rebooked on our flight. We were off to the airport hotel for the morning until our noon flight.

I’ll spare you details of the once lovely hotel that catered to the wealthy. It definitely had seen better days!  The majority of our luggage was left in Chengdu, so we  left with only what we would need for four days. The plane was a large modern one and there were no complaints about it or any of the other three domestic flights we took while in China---all on different airlines.

Because of the hour,we were served a very good lunch. Most of the flight was well above the cloud cover, and the Himalayas did not appear until shortly before landing. The plane traveled through a narrow opening in the mountains down into the Yellow Valley. I swear I could have touched the side of the mountains if I’d been sitting on the wing tip!

Few people were able to visit Lhasa, Tibet’s capitol, before tourism opened 1980. Lhasa has been the heart and soul as well as the political and economic center of Tibet for 350 years.

Our sweet guide told us, “Use the bathroom on the plane before landing because the one at the Lhasa airport  is terrible.You don’t want to use it.”     We did as suggested, but on arrival we found ourselves in a brand new airport that had opened in late December 2003. The restrooms were clean with one western toilet. (We’ll talk about eastern and western toilets another day.)

It was riding over the rough paved road that I saw my first yak. Our van driver stopped so he could tell us about them as we watched two yoked yaks plowing a field. Bells were attached to the yoke and the animals wore red ribbons in their hair. An irresistible photo op!

Our local Tibitean guide told us, “The yak is locally referred to as the boat of the highlands because it is a great pack animal. The long-black-hair animal provides milk, cheese, butter and meat. Its dung  mixed with hay and sun dried provides fuel for heat. A yak head placed over the front door of a home is believed to protect the family.

“Not long ago nearly a million wild yak roamed freely on the plains, but due to increased demand for yak meat that herd  is estimated to be only 15,000 now. An adult yak stands nearly six feet tall at the shoulder, weighs about a ton, and has sharp three four-foot long horns. One yak of a certain color in a herd is considered bad luck, but two of the same color is considered good luck.

“Yak crowd tightly together. If they move to lower altitudes they become susceptible to disease and parasites and experience upset reproductive systems. Used to temperatures that range around 40 degrees below zero they have course shaggy black hair that covers a layer of fine undercoat, thus creating a natural all-weather coat. About 80% of the yak live in the highlands.

“Important to a Tibetan family the yak is well cared for. The number of yak owned by a family indicates the family’s wealth.”  

CHOCO INDIAN VILLAGE

CHOCO INDIAN  VILLAGE

and the

DARIEN JUNGLE

 One day at daybreak in Panama, we boarded small cayucas (kai u coo) which were waiting for us alongside the ship. A cayuca  is a dug out canoe. Since we were anchored two miles away from the mouth of the Sambu River we were glad the cayucas were fitted with outboard motors.

            

Why the early wakeup call? The tides---it was necessary to go up river on the tide and out on the ebb because at low tide there is only about 6 inches of water in the river verses 22 feet at high tide. Timing a  visit to the village is absolutely determined by the tides.

Chunga means black palm, and very few visitors get to Chunga, the Choco village.  There is one other shallow draft small ship that can make it, but the water is not deep enough for cruise ships. Besides the river and village could not accommodate huge crowds.

We traveled an hour and a half up the Sambu for 10-12 miles through the Darien jungle.  Bugs were not a problem on the 200-yard wide river. Bird life was abundant. We saw pelicans, ibis, egrets, kingfishers, herons, and many birds we could not identify. Some of us had hoped to see the colorful toucans and parrots, but it was not to be.

Choco is the name of a province in Columbia and the Indians do not like the name. They prefer to be called Embera-waanan.  As we arrived several darling children met us to accompany us over the level half-mile trail to the village. My little 13-year-old girl held my hand all the way. This tribe does speak Spanish, but at this time understood very little English. The village has only received visitors since the early 1990s. The people are very individualistic and totally apolitical. You deal with them one on one. The Choco use a flute and drum to keep beat for their simple dances. The children were happy to demonstrate for us.

Small in stature, the men wear a loin cloth and wear their hair in a Prince Valiant cut. The women wear a waist to knee sarong and paint their bodies all over in various designs with a black paint obtained from the fruit of the black palm tree. The paint fades in 6-7 days. Multi strands of seed beads are worn around the female neck and  their dark hair is waist long. Their skin color is a pretty bronze.

These Indians live separately in the jungle in houses built 6-10 feet off the ground on wooden pilings. There is nothing in the house except a floor and a small cooking sandbox on 6” legs in the center. They sleep on the floor. The tribe farms and both men and women work in the fields. Women carry corn and grain, but the men carry the firewood.

       
Women weave baskets from leaf strands of the black palm. Some of the tightly woven baskets are watertight.  The men do some rather good wood carvings from rosewood, also known as cocobolo. They also carve small figures and animals from the vegetable ivory nut known as tagua. Until 1936, 95% of all buttons were made from this nut. The nut is about the size of a small plum, hard, and rather difficult to carve. When polished they certainly do look like ivory.

The noon return trip down river through the jungle was hot, hot, hot as the only shade was what  our hats provided. We were grateful not to have to be fighting bugs. Occasionally a little water spay over the gunnels of the cayuca cooled us off.

THE GUM DEPARTMENT STORE

                     THE GUM DEPARTMENT STORE

The famous GUM department store is located almost directly across Red Square from the Kremlin. GUM, built in 1895, is Russia’s largest department store. Pronounced goom the initials stand for  State Department Store in Russian. Completely rebuilt in 1950 the store accommodates a half-million customers a day. Three stories of shops line three main passageways. A maze of side hallways house 200 trading stalls that include designer boutiques, foreign shops, and souvenir stands. The ornate interior includes walking bridges, fountains, and a glass-paneled roof.

Svetlana, our city guide, had done a very quick walk through the GUM, which wasn’t enough for Jan or me. So on a beautiful warm sunny day we returned for a more in depth look. The shops were certainly upscale and we wondered who could afford to shop in them. Not being shoppers, neither of us bought anything and did little more than window-shop. The GUM was just one of those must-see places we needed to visit. The decor was delightful.  The sun was warm shining through the glass roof.

We walked all the floors and crossed the bridges before ending up in a third floor café for an ice cream cone. We sat and enjoyed a respite while people-watching before walking back to the bus stop to catch the # 44 bus back to our hotel.

YUMMY LUNCH

LENTIL SOUP EVERY DAY

If someone had told me I’d be eating lentil soup every noontime for the two weeks I’d be in Scotland I wouldn’t have believe them. Bit that is exactly what happened.

The weather was overcast much of the time and the temperatures cool, neither of which, however, dampened our enthusiasm and wonderful time. Somehow we always found ourselves in a museum, castle, or some historic site at noon. Both my traveling buddy, Jan,  and I tend to push the envelope as far as time is concerned  to see and experience as much as possible.

I had an uncanny knack of glancing at my watch ten minutes before our time was up, and then we’d make a be-line for the inevitable café on the premises. Lentil soup was always on the stove, hot and ready to serve. With our limited time we didn’t have to wait for a sandwich to be made or anything cooked. On occasion I actually had to put an ice cube in my soup to cool it down enough to eat. A bowl of filling hot lentil soup and a crusty roll was a perfect lunch and in short order we were on our way.

DUBROVNIK

DUBROVNIK, A Historic City

            Dubrovnik may be the best known area of Croatia for Americans, but the country offers much more than the ancient city.  Croatians call their country Hrvatska. The C-shaped country with a long tail has 372 miles of coastline, as the crow flies, but 1100 miles including coves and inlets.  Forested mountains, covering 40% of the country, often seem to emerge out of the clear turquoise water of the Adriatic. In my 1000 miles of travel throughout the country it seemed mountains could be seen everywhere.

       
Nude beaches are no big deal, and it is said that on one of the many  islands a hotel receptionist greets guests wearing only a bow tie. However, I did not confirm this. Beaches tend to be pebbly and rocky, not sandy, and I understand Croats prefer them that way. I guess it's what one is accustomed to. 

           

Dubrovnik and Zadar, suffered damage to 60% of their cities, but it appears that the coast escaped much of the ravages of the Homeland War of 1991-95.

          

 Dubrovnik, a sea of red tile roofs, suffered much damage with 55 % of the buildings being hit by mortar shells or bombs. The wall survived undamaged. UNESCO funds allowed speedy repair and restoration of the walled city.  Vehicles are not allowed in the pedestrian friendly city, but on an early morning visit to avoid crowds and heat, I did spot a small electric Coca Cola truck restocking cafés and restaurants.

           

History lives on in the fortified city. The 7^th century canal, separating Romans and Slavs, was filled in during the 11^th century, and now is the historic wide limestone paved Placa, the heart of the city. The fortification wall was added in the 13^th century. The Republic of Dubrovnik was a major maritime power 500 years ago with the third largest navy in the Mediterranean. The base for a fleet of ships carrying trade to much of Europe and the Middle East was a rival of Venice.

          

  I read that if one climbed the many stairs to the city wall at the Pile Gate the mile long walk around the city was downhill. Not so! When walking, one needs to watch his feet, and stop to enjoy the scenery, sites and the sparkling waters below lapping at the wall’s base.. My traveling friend was a bit concerned about walking because of her recent knee surgery.  Walking on the wall around the city, we walked up or down 406 steps! In spite of a record hot day, it was a fascinating and worthwhile walk with spectacular views of the sparkling Adriatic.  

A TRIP DECISION

A Good One

A gal I traveled with  many times nagged me for three years to go to Churchill, Manitoba, Canada to see the polar bears. I kept saying “Kelly, I don’t like cold weather! Besides I don’t have any heavy warm clothes.”

I had just returned home from hiking the Swiss Alps and  was sitting at my desk when it hit me. My daughter had ski clothes that I could borrow. In hind sight, I’m amazed it took me three years to remember this. I picked up the phone and called my friend in New Jersey saying, “If you really want to go see the polar bears I’ll borrow warm clothes and go with you.”

Ecstatic she gave me the tour company phone number. I couldn’t believe it when I learned that they were totally booked eleven months in advance! So I placed another call to New Jersey and told her. “Well it’s all for not. They are totally booked for next year.”

“Not so fast gal. Give me a couple of days to do a bit of research and I’ll call you back.”

True to her word, I heard from her a few days later. Our second choice company had a couple of spots left for the following season. I begged the fellow I was talking to to hold two spots for a day or so until I could get back to Kelly, then back to him with her preferred date.

Long story short, I did, and he did, and we booked a trip for the following mid-October. There are two options to get to Churchill—fly in or take a many hour train ride from Winnipeg, as  there are no roads into the city. We landed in Churchill after a new fallen snow the night before. I was warm in my heavy clothes and my feet were dry in my boots. I shoveled enough snow as a kid in New England to last me a lifetime, but it was kind of fun to just enjoy the fresh snow that was still clean and white..

I am glad I made this trip with my friend, as we had a wonderful time and she died the following May.             

A SCAM ATTEMPT

It Didn't Work

In all of my travels and visits to many other countries, only once have I been the victim of an attempted scam. My son and I had just finished lunch in Miraflores, a suburb of Lima, Peru where we were staying. We were walking down the street toward the waterfront when a young man walking in the opposite direction asked as we passed by, “Are you from Texas?”

That remark floored me as I wondered how he knew. Later my son said, “Mom, he saw your neck strap on your camera.” Sure enough it was a Texas A&M strap. I marveled at the stranger’s good eyesight.

He asked for lunch money, adding, “My backpack was stolen off the bus and my clothes and money are gone.”

My son refused him the money, but offered his  calling card so the fellow could  call  his girlfriend who had been delayed picking him up. The fellow pleaded a bit more, but we held to our position. He did not want to use the calling card or make a phone call. We replied, “We’re sure sorry, but we don’t have any cash,” and continued on our way.

I muttered, “I guess we could have taken him back to the restaurant and bought him lunch.”

“Mom, he didn’t want lunch. He was just trying to scam us out of money.”                            

I’ve run in to a few panhandlers in various places, very pesky gypsies in Rome,and persistent hawkers in Beijing,  but that was the first time I’ve ever actually been approached on the street. For one who hates to haggle to get a bargain when the asking price, by our standards, is reasonable, it was hard for me to pass on that young man. Sometimes the heart and mind just aren’t in sync.