I landed in Paris this morning and the first order of business was to walk to the local cafe and order a decaf cappuccino. This arrived, and I smiled – such beauty, such art, and with a tiny heart on top. Je t’aime!
The Most Perfect Cappuccino
Next stop, the bakery. Sara would order a pastry, and I would immediately say to the clerk, “Deux, s’il vous plait!” which made her smile. Right before paying, Sara ordered a baguette. The clerk waited for a moment, then said with a smile, “Deux?” We laughed and shook our head no. One baguette is plenty!
While in Ireland earlier this year, we decided to rent a car on Sunday and drive up the coast. Ingrid mentioned going to The Giant’s Causeway, which I had never heard of, but it turned out to be delightful. We drove about three hours north of Dublin to the tip top of Northern Ireland. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that I was a little wary of traveling through Northern Ireland. Why, you might ask? I was a teenager/college student during the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. I remember the news being filled with The Troubles and stories of bombs, and blasts, and violence, and death. It’s funny how an idea, or a perception, can get stuck in your mind, even if it’s not reality anymore. The drive turned out to be lovely. The most trouble we encountered was, as a driver accustomed to driving on the right side of the road, making a right hand turn, not realizing we were crossing oncoming traffic. Oncoming traffic that happened to be very close.
We opted for the guided tour of the causeway. A few of us walked out of the visitor’s center into blustery winds and a drizzle that persistently became a respectable rain. Despite that (or maybe because of that, it seemed fitting to be exploring Ireland in the rain) we had such a fun afternoon. The tour guide was incredibly humorous, sharing the story of Fionn Mac Cumhaill and the creation of the causeway. We walked down to the water’s edge, and explored the magnificent rock formations. And walked in the presence of giants.
In February of this year, I had the chance to visit Ireland for the first time. It’s been a country that I’ve wanted to visit for a long time (since I was a teenager), and somehow never got to. I was there primarily for work, but had a lovely time walking around Dublin, listening to the fantastic accents (eavesdropping is one of my favorite activities anyway, and when it’s eavesdropping with accents? heaven!), and having a drink at the pub.
On our last afternoon there, we walked over to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells. The Book of Kells exhibit is very well-organized, explaining the history, the art, and the various scripts. The end of the exhibit leads you into a dimly lit room where actual pages of the Book of Kells are on display, pages that are *over* 1,000 years old! It’s a stunning masterpiece. The calligraphy is divine, the colors intense, and the illustrations timeless.
After I peered over the pages, walking around the exhibit several times, stopping to observe the pages from all angles, I climbed the stairs to the Long Room. I stood in awe. I was standing in a space more reverent than a church. All around me were books, books, and more books, from floor to ceiling, the entire length of the room. It was the perfect room. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the hundreds of thousands of books that surrounded me. I walked up and down the center aisle, looking at titles, fantasizing I had a job as a librarian there and was allowed beyond the velvet ropes, searching for a rare book. I breathed in the wood, the darkness, the solemness, and was supremely happy I finally made it to Ireland.
The Daily Post prompt for today says, “Tell us all about the person you were when you were sixteen. If you haven’t yet hit sixteen, tell us about the person you want to be at sixteen.”
I was sixteen and incredibly insecure. I somehow fit the template of “popular” but never felt like I fit in. I was a cheerleader, I got good grades, I hung out with the “cool” kids, but I felt ridiculously awkward in my own skin. I wanted to fit in more than anything. But I didn’t. I didn’t agree with a lot of the things around me, and I didn’t have the courage to assert my beliefs. I didn’t think I believed in God, but I was in church multiple times a week. It seemed so acceptable, so normal, to everyone else; I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have faith that seemed to come so naturally to everyone else. There was an interracial couple at our high school. I hated the way that people gossiped about them, and I hated myself more that I stayed silent. I hated when people jokingly called someone “gay” or “faggot” and I hated it more that I never protested.
I took a trip that summer to Europe. Our Word History class sold cheese (yes, cheese) to finance our trip. I loved being on an airplane. I loved being in another country, another way of life. I loved buying fresh produce at a local market (this was before farmer’s markets were the common thing they are now) and eating bread, cheese, and cherries for dinner. I loved wandering museums, lost among artists. I loved seeing people live lives that were so different from what I lived in North Carolina. I loved that the French (at the time) seemed to hate Americans, but had no qualms about interracial relationships. I loved experiencing a different way of life.
Sixteen was the year I decided that somehow, my life would extend beyond what it currently was. I didn’t know how that would happen, or even if it was possible, but that was the year that I decided that I would do whatever I could to see more of the world, and that I would do whatever I needed to do to have the courage to speak my mind.
Last year at an Ecology Project International fundraiser, I was the lucky winner of an auction for a seven-day cruise for two to the Galapagos. The Galapagos! Islands of exotic animals! Swimming with sea turtles!
I asked my partner in crime, Emily, if she’d like to go with me. She was ecstatic. She had lived in Ecuador as a student, but at the time couldn’t afford to go to the Galapagos. We looked at our calendars and picked a few dates in May that we wanted to book.
I called the boat tour company in January and asked for our first choice of dates. Nope, they were booked. I asked for our second choice. Booked then, too. Before I could ask for a third choice of dates, the tour operator told me the first available tours were in August. August?!?! Eight months away? I guess other people like to plan in advance. We booked a tour for late August.
Emily and I talked about booking plane tickets to Ecuador, but never really got around to it. We were planning to get together this weekend and I said, “Come over! Let’s book our plane tickets!” We figured out how many days we wanted to spend in Quito before going to the islands and what days we wanted to travel. We booked our flights from San Francisco to Quito and return. From Quito, however, we needed to get to the Galapagos Islands. There are a few airlines that fly that route: TAME, Avianca, and Lan Ecuador. We chose Avianca since it’s part of Star Alliance. Unfortunately, you can’t book Avianca domestic flights online. Emily called the airline, and I listened as they conversed in Spanish, “…talk, talk, talk, numbers, numbers, dates…” Silence. “Solomente? En Augusto?” She turned to me. “There’s just one flight left with seats available, at 6:30 am.” “Really? For August?” She nodded. “Book it!” She talked some more, arranging the internal domestic flights. When she hung up, again, I was somewhat flustered. Who plans this far in advance?
We decided since we were in a planning mode, we would book our accommodation for our three nights in Quito. We perused several residences on Airbnb, finally settling on one that was centrally located and decorated with brightly colored rugs. We sent a message to the host, checking availability for August. This morning, she replied that she doesn’t make reservations more than two months in advance.
Last week my work team spent the week in Kauai, Hawaii. We completely overscheduled ourselves with work projects, which is not the way to spend a week in Hawaii! One day, however, we hiked a few miles on the Na Pali Coast. Despite the almost constant rain, and the treacherous slippery mud trails, it was a beautiful day. I like to hike slowly, and every so often I would stop (more often than not to gain my balance as I slipped) look over the cliffs, and listen to the thunderous crashing of the waves mingling with the soft pitter patter of the rain. Beautiful!
Double rainbow on the walk back
Paul crossing the river
Lunch spot at the ocean. We kept our eyes out for rogue waves!
A twelve hour layover in Seoul. I was excited when I saw that was one of the cheapest flight options returning from my trip to Vietnam. I haven’t returned to Korea since I left there in 2002. A layover with a good friend, what could be better?
I called a couple of days before the layover to make reservations at a traditional Korean restaurant. “Anh-nyoung ha sae yo!” and was greeted similarly. I love the sing song of the Korean language. My voice rises and I smile when I speak. I inquired about reservations, and they asked my name. “Lo-ri.” “What?” Then I remembered. “Ro-ri,” I said. “Ahhhh! Ro-ri! See you Friday.”
We landed at Incheon. Ah, Seoul. So many memories. During my stay in Korea, I lived in Daegu, but flew in and out of Seoul many times. My last goodbyes before passing through customs. Memories flooded over me.
We took the train into the city, watching the sun rise over a river.
Sun rise from the train
We arrived into the city. Cheonggyecheon had been built since my last visit. We walked along the stream, early in the morning, before the streets were full of people.
Cheonggyecheon early in the morning
We were hungry, but didn’t want the wares McDonald’s, Starbucks, Lotte, or other fast food chains had to offer. We wandered in and out of alleys, until we found a small (four seats) take out restaurant that offered hot jook for breakfast. Kim-chi jook – ahhhhhhh!
Kim Chi Jook
Warm and happy, we ventured to Gyeongbokgung Palace. We arrived just in time for the changing of the guard! Boom! Boom! Boom! went the drums. The soldiers marched in formation towards the gates, marching in unison. Brilliant robes fluttered in the wind as the guards took their position.
Changing of the guard at GyeongbokgungRose at Gyeongbokgung
We had heard about Tom’s Cat Cafe near Hongkik University. We navigated the maze of the subway, and after wandering for a while, stopping in a coffee shop and asking the way, randomly questioning students on the street, finally with the help of the very kind tourist police in all red, we found our way there. We couldn’t tell if it was open or not – no one was there except the cats, but the doors weren’t locked. We stared through the windows at the beautiful cats, then made our way across town for a traditional Korean lunch.
The sign on the door – no idea what it says or what it means
Cats looking at us from within
21 kinds! said the menu. And that’s what we got. 21 delicious dishes. Plus one. Service. Oh, Korea. I’ve missed you.
The first of our 21 dishes for lunch!
We made our way back to Incheon. Satiated with a day of Korean culture.
I first heard of Halong Bay when working for Room to Read. We had moved into a new office, and had a contest to name all the new conference rooms. Someone suggested naming the conference rooms after famous places in the countries where we had program operations. Mount Everest, Kruger, Luang Prabang, Halong Bay…
I hadn’t heard of Halong Bay before then, but the pictures looked magical.
Fast forward five years. I’m working for another company, and we’re having a team meeting in Vietnam. In Hanoi, in the north. And one of our outings is to Halong Bay. On a boat, overnight. I was ecstatic. I was finally going to visit the magical Halong Bay.
And it was. Magical. Even in the harbor, surround by other boats (which brandished “SAFETY FIRST” in big letters on the steam pipes) it was magical. We leaned on the railings and looked out at the karsts in the overcast day. As we began to sail, our host explained that legend had it that the Vietnamese were fighting against invaders from the north. The Jade Emperor sent a dragon to help, incinerating the enemy with fire and emeralds. The emeralds scattered on the battlefield, forming a defensive wall against the enemy (the emeralds eventually turned into the karsts that can still be seen today).
We sailed through the rock formations, each more magical than the last. We paddled in kayaks among the karsts. We swam in the warm waters of the bay. Calm descended. We were quiet as the sun set, enjoying the magic of the dragon’s remains.
LoriLoo 