tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-325474572024-03-06T21:46:57.799-07:00Unfortunate Lily MaidJonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01621371263173026351noreply@blogger.comBlogger313125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-25371794562389415452019-02-11T10:59:00.000-07:002019-02-11T10:59:26.564-07:00The Florida Project: How I got here.<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">Note: This is long. It's personal. But so many of you have asked me for more details on how all of this Florida business got started for me, so this is the best I can do to communicate that story to as many of you as I can at once. If you're reading this with any level of interest, you've probably been one of those people who have encouraged me and helped me and supported me over this last year. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there when I've needed you all the most.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a teacher.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">In fact, one of my earliest memories was of me gathering all my friends into a semi-circle around me the minute my mother’s back was turned at my fourth birthday party and reading </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">Brown Bear, Brown Bear</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> to my friends just like my pre-school teacher had done with me. I loved playing school. The organization of it all was </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">fun</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> and I took endless glee out of writing on chalk boards. All my favorite heroines were teachers. Anne Shirley. Jo March. Laura Ingalls Wilder. (Hermione Granger. . . Sort of.) I could think of no other possible future for myself than in teaching.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">My first year of teaching was mostly a dream. I had a week or two at the beginning where I wondered how on earth I would ever survive, and I remember getting some really bizarre advice from my BYU mentor that I’m still trying to understand (“Don’t ever accidentally offend someone.”), but aside from normal teacher challenges, I left my first year feeling triumphant and proud of myself and of my kids. I took to teaching like a duck to water.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">What I had </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">not</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> taken to like a duck was life in Utah as an unmarried college graduate. My faith and my family and my own vision for my future would have had me married already. Most of my friends were by this point, but I’d had no success whatsoever with dating at this point (or. . . You know, </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">this point</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">.) I wanted to escape and try something new because a fresh start somewhere totally different felt like the bold move I needed to make to feel comfortable with myself again. I landed on Seattle. I flew there for my spring break and had a wonderful time. I loved everything about that city, including the handful of boys who asked me out for the first time in months. A few weeks later I went back to attend a job fair. I remember standing outside the transformed gymnasium and feeling the strongest spiritual impression of my life to that point. It said “Have fun, but you’re not moving to Seattle.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I was dumbfounded.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I walked around the gym and idly chatted with one or two of the school districts in attendance, then went back outside, bought a truly disgusting sandwich at the concession stand, sat down on the carpet, and fought back the urge to burst into tears. What was I supposed to do now?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Enter Greg. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I was in a show at the time and when I came back from being gone, mentioned to a few friends in the cast that I was looking for a teaching job in Utah now. I knew that there were a few teachers in the cast and I also knew that most of the jobs in Utah had been filled at least a month before. Through a series of really strange (and totally divinely intervened) events, I wound up having a conversation with Greg and his amazing wife Nicole about the possibility of my co-teaching a class with him. (Actually, the conversation with Greg was a long one. The conversation with Nicole was an easy “Yeah! I think it’s great!” She’s unreal.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">That initial conversation with Greg brought about the second strongest spiritual impression of my life: an overwhelming feeling of peace. Every time I thought about how crazy it sounded or how on earth I would get anyone to believe that I really did feel like I was inspired to do it or any other fear: I just felt </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">peace</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">. My logic was forced aside. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Greg and I ended up building a program together for eight years. It was a complete and total labor of love. We’re both artists at heart with a great love for stories and a deep passion for teaching through inspiration. We believe that teenagers are capable of and searching for much more than most people think. We ended up taking our program to three different schools. When things were really clicking, we were able to engage students in projects and units that changed them in powerful ways. I could go on and on about how proud I am of what we created, and how I continue to be humbled and amazed by the students I was able to work with. They and their families became part of my own family. What we did was more than just classroom based learning. It was so, so much bigger than that. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">The problem is that it was always an uphill battle. We were, admittedly, doing unorthodox and weird things that required patience and intense trust and faith from our administrators, our students, and their parents. What we did was not right for everyone. Our class was a heaven for some and a hell for others. We fought to preserve what we had for the sake of those that it </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">did</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> work for, but the battle grew increasingly difficult. It was brutal during the last two years. We were in a new school where the structure of education was far more restricted and governed than the culture of our class. Truthfully, I can’t remember being so depressed and miserable since I went on Lexapro than I was during those two years. I was not a good teacher for those students. I wasn’t a good co-worker to Greg, who was having to cover for me when I was breaking and who had to compensate for my pessimism and anger. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I started looking for options. I was desperate for something, </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">anything</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> else, but I had no idea where to even start. Grad school? (How could I afford it?) Teach somewhere else? (How would that solve anything?) Get another job? (Doing what?) It was suffocating. I felt trapped and utterly miserable. I couldn't see a way out or see a solution for how utterly miserable I felt. I started looking up grad-schools anyway and found a few that looked promising, but I had no idea what I would study. (They were all in England so at that point, did it really matter what I was studying?) Even so, nothing really felt right. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Fall of 2017 I was asked to help fill in for the school musical. One of the cast members had a medical emergency and wasn’t going to be able to do the show, so, given that I don't look my age, I was called to come in clutch to help cover. At the cast party before the closing show, I was talking with the director of the show and her son, who had flown in from Anaheim to see the show. Her son worked for Disneyland and talked about some of his experiences. I casually mentioned that I'd love to work for Disney sometime (who wouldn't want to work for Disney?), and went to get ready.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Before the show started that night, Elaine (the director of the show), took me by the shoulder and told me "You need to go work for Disney." I kind of laughed and rolled my eyes. "I couldn't do that now. Maybe someday," I said. How could I afford it? What about my house? My cat? My friends and family? "You need to work for Disney </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">now</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">." She insisted. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">Sure, Elaine</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">It felt right. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">And I knew it felt right because I didn't want it to, but it did. There was no way I could afford to live in California, which would mean moving to Florida. I didn't want move there because my first visit to Florida had been full of insane humidity and heat exhaustion and I had vowed never to return. (I had been in August, which was a terrible choice.) But in spite of </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">all of that, </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">it felt right. I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">hated</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> that it felt right. I hated that it felt right because it was in the literal opposite corner of the nation that I'd prefer to be in, but it felt right., and when I feel peace about something that I don't want to feel peace about, that's when I know that God is really trying to talk to me. And when God is really trying to talk to me, I get to work. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I started applying for any job on the Disney website that looked like it could even </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">sort of</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> fit my what my resume would say I had skills to complete. Pretty much everything came back with a rejection almost at once. I ended up visiting Florida at the end of January to attend a job fair to try and see if I could find a job, any job. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I was, admittedly, terrified that I would walk into that career fair and have the same experience I had before in Seattle. I also decided I was going to throw out all the advice I'd read about career fairs and talking to your preferred employer last and went directly to the Disney booth. I was determined that I would get them past the standard spiel telling me to go directly to the careers website. I wanted to get them talking. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Truthfully, it's been long enough now that I don't remember exactly who I spoke with or what was said, but I spoke with her for several minutes. I shared some of my story with her and what I hoped for my future with Disney. She was extremely encouraging and positive about my prospects with the company and shared her email address with me so that I could stay in touch with her. Where the fair in Seattle had felt dark and wrong, I left my conversation with this cast member feeling totally light about my choice. It was going to work. It was </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">going to work</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">. I ended up </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">only</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> talking to Disney at the career fair. I had no desire to give up everything and come to Florida for any other reason.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I flew home and drove directly from the airport to Barnes and Noble to apply for a bookseller position. I knew from talking to the recruiter that having more recent sales on my resume would only help, so I walked into the store, told them I'd worked for the company before, had a degree in English Education, and was willing to start immediately. A week later I was back to work at the "Barn". </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">It was in March that I finally heard back from the Disney Reservation Center about a sales agent position. (I say "finally" since it felt like forever, but was really only about four and a half months since I'd started the whole process of applying. All things considered, it was a bit faster than it is for some people.) I had an online assessment, followed by a phone interview and then an in-person interview. Once I was called in for an in-person interview, I put my house up for sale. It sounds a bit arrogant, but I know that I interview well. To date, I've never (knock on wood!) interviewed for a job I wasn't offered. I knew it was risky to put my house up for sale before securing a job, but throughout all of this I was doing everything I could to pray for help in making the right decisions, and I felt like the "right decision" in this case was to put my house up, </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">just in case</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Turns out I probably could have held off on selling my house if I needed to, because I had about ten offers on my house within 72 hours of putting it on the market. In fact, the day of my in-person interview, I had to be ready to either turn down or accept an offer on the house. I had thought that I would get an answer on whether or not I had the job on the day of the interview, but that wasn't the case, so I had to take yet another rather terrifying leap of faith and accept the offer on my house before I knew if I even had the job. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">(I still can't think about that house without feeling a little sick and sad. I miss that place and its glorious views of the mountain and its garage and its carpet and granite countertops so much. It was my first home! It was the fulfillment of so many of my single, feminist dreams and the product of so much hard work!)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Fortunately, I was confident in how the interview had gone. I was </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">prepared</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> for that interview. Now that I sit on the other side of those interviews, I realize how abnormally obsessive I had been. I put together a chart of every single Walt Disney World resort, where it was located, what theming it had, what types of amenities it had, and I memorized it. I could rattle off every single resort and its category off by heart. The cast members who interviewed me even told me they'd never seen someone come so prepared. I left the interview and called my mom. Then I texted my realtor and told her to agree to the sale. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">To be honest, I still can't think about April of 2018 without feeling horribly, horribly depressed. Those weeks were brutal. I went to Ogden to say goodbye to my grandparents and has my usually lighthearted and not terribly emotional grandparents give me tearful goodbyes. I said farewells to my theater family. My church family. My </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">actual</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> family. To everything I had known for my independent adult life. The night before my mom and I pulled out of my home I remember sitting on top of the tub in my bathroom and just </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">shaking</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">. Suddenly everything I had done felt intensely and horribly reckless and just </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">wrong</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">. I couldn't believe what I had done to myself. I spent half that night sobbing.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">The months that followed were some of the strangest of my adult life. I started out as a nomad, waiting for my house to finally close in Utah, and then Florida. I woke up so early for work that my family in Utah and Arizona sometimes hadn't even gone to bed yet. It felt oddly like living on another planet. I was lucky enough to meet some really supportive and generous people who helped me move and invited me to play in the theme parks and out for dinner and generally gave me a safety net when I arrived. Even so, I'm a person who thrives not on quantity but on quality of relationships, and such relationships take time to develop. I was intensely lonely. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">What was worse, though, was coming to terms with the reality of everything I'd lost and how little I knew of what I was going to do next. I wanted good relationships, but I'm independent enough that after spending all day in training (or, later, taking reservations on the phone), having some time alone was usually not the worst of it. What was so, so much harder, was saying goodbye to all I'd known and trying to figure out where I was going to throw my passion. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">To be clear, working for Disney has been about 95% awesome. There are so many things about working for this company that are completely fantastic. I've had supportive and generous leaders. (Heck, I was able to be promoted to the training team about four months after being hired in the first place, in large part thanks to some truly amazing leaders who encouraged me and went out on a limb to help me.) The perks of working for the company are fantastic, and it's great to work for a place that is so diligent in creating magical and happy experiences for both guests and cast members (employees.) The hardest parts have mostly been about adjusting to corporate America after years of working in a </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">much</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> smaller pond. That said, when I was hired to work in the reservation center, I knew it would be a pit stop on the way to something else, because while I am good at sales, I can't really say it's my life-long passion. I didn't know what </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">that</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> was any more. I had thought it was teaching, but I'd been so betrayed by that, I had to work through that grief every bit as much as the loss of being somewhere familiar and away from all of my friends and family. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Fortunately, God hasn't quite finished with his mischief in my life. Actually, I think he needed to make it as hellish as possible for me so that I would stop being so cautious and just go for broke on anything. So much of my life has been shattered over the last year that things I'd put on the "impossible" shelf were dusted off. <br />
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Remember when I said that for as long as I can remember I wanted to be a teacher?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I could say the same thing about working in a theater. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I was an actress before I really even knew what that meant. Next to playing school, you were most likely going to find me playing pretend. I forced many a childhood friend into acting out </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">The Sound of Music, Little Women, Anne of Green Gables</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> and so on and so forth. (I would like to issue a formal apology to all the friends I had as a child who were forced through such things by my younger, bossier self.) ((I'm looking at you, Heather and Liz.)) The older I got, the more I realized how unlikely a responsible career in the arts would be. I put those aspirations on the back burner and turned the heat to low. I would be content with a few shows a year in a community theater. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">To further complicate my vision of the future, I met Scott. Scott and his wife Natalie have been in the same circles of theater friends I had back in Utah for ages but while I'd heard about them I hadn't actually met them until I came here to Florida, where Scott is getting his MFA at the University of Central Florida in Theater for Young Audiences. The more Scott told me about his program the more jealous I was. That's when God started whispering in my ear again. (What if I didn't come to Florida just to work for Disney? What if now was </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">finally</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> the right time for me to fulfill my dream of getting a Masters?)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">So that's where I am now. I've applied for the MFA program at UCF. What does that mean for my future with Disney? The plan is to stay with the company while I get my degree. I'm not sure what role I'd be able to fill that would allow for that to happen, but at some point in my time with the company I'd love to be involved in entertainment, or have some experience in the parks, just to say I've done it. I’ll be getting a degree in Theater for Young audiences, and I want to focus on theater that impacts families and possibly also theater that helps teenagers cope with trauma. Working in a regional theater as an education director or artistic director of some kind would be an absolute dream. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Truthfully, I feel like the end result isn't what I'm supposed to focus on right now. So much of my life I have known (or assumed I'd known) the end from the beginning, but now I feel like the best thing I can do is stop worrying so much about that responsible adult question of "but what will I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">do</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">?!" I don't know what I'm going to be doing five years from now. I hope it's something awesome, but taking the enormous pay-cut I did to come work for Disney has taught me that having a job with a positive environment matters more than a better paycheck. I've learned that I can make do with less. I've learned that when I do what I feel God wants me to do, that miracles happen. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Well, I'm dreading the GRE (even though the program director at UCF told me that I could bomb it and still be accepted.) I'm finally back in the theater and in rehearsals for </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> with the Disney STAGE Cast Club, where I'm playing Lucy. I've made some amazing friends and gotten involved in my church again (where, I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">think </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">the leadership has finally learned my name). I've got a great roommate who keeps me company (and loves my cat. Truthfully, my cat loves her as much as she loves me, or maybe more. Half the nights she's whining at Rachel's door wanting to sleep with her, which I am </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">not okay with</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">, but also relieved by. I hate leaving Izzy alone, so I'm glad she has a friend.) </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I'm doing better. Truly, I am. 2018 was easily one of the hardest years of my life. I don't know if it's </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: TimesNewRomanPS-ItalicMT; font-size: 16pt; font-style: italic;">the</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"> hardest - the months before I went on Lexapro might challenge it - but it was pretty close. Even so, I've decided that I'm going to face anything that comes my way now with as much courage and optimism as I can muster. I guess working for Disney will do that for you. To borrow loosely from Ginny Weasley, when you're surrounded by Disney stories and music all the time, you start believing that "anything's possible if you've got enough nerve." I've learned that I have more nerve than I gave myself credit for. I've learned that it's never too late to take a risk on yourself. I've learned that I am far more capable than I thought I was. So, ultimately, when I look back on 2018, I'm grateful for everything I learned from it. I don't think I'd re-live it any time soon, but I am grateful for all that's come for me because I moved to this humid, alligator infested, cockroach ridden, magical place. My time in Florida is just getting started. I can't wait to see where the next steps lead me.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-83913338708201063052018-07-10T16:40:00.001-06:002018-07-10T16:40:48.340-06:00Where I've Been, Where I'm GoingWhen I clicked the link to visit my blog and do a bit of writing, I couldn't believe how long it had been. <div>
<br />A year?! Surely not. The last time I wrote I was in London. </div>
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I'm guessing those of you who clicked the link to come here probably already know a good deal of what has happened since then. I came home from Europe and started in on life as normal. There were student government retreats and Shakespeare trips and rehearsals. There were lessons to plan and units to organize and a new classroom to put together. It was routine. </div>
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And when it was good it was very very good. It was the thrill of delivering a joke that always got a laugh, or watching students come alive with a new idea. It was being surrounded with the wonderful, beautiful comfort of the familiar. It was long walks by the river or trips to the city to binge on chocolate shops. </div>
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And when it was bad it was horrid. It was depressive fits that wouldn't leave. It was classes I couldn't conquer and students I couldn't crack. It was an awful feeling of being <i>stuck</i>. Of not knowing what to do, what would come next, how I would ever manage another day like the one before. I started to realize that something needed to change. I wasn't right for my students any more. I had been, once, but I wasn't any more. </div>
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It felt horribly, miserably like failure. </div>
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I'd moved to this new school only two years before feeling very firmly like this was what I was <i>meant</i> to do. So why had it gone so dreadfully? Why had it been so excruciatingly hard to make any inroads? Why was I so miserable?</div>
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In an act of sheer desperation I started looking online for grad schools. (But what about my house? My car? How could I leave where I was? What would I do with all my things? What about the shows I wanted to audition for? My church? My friends?) As with so many things in life, there was no good solution that would allow me to keep what I wanted <i>and</i> gain what I wanted while losing what I <i>didn't</i> want. I wouldn't be able to craft the perfect solution without some damage. </div>
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The first, rather mad idea, was to go back to England. I've always wanted to live abroad. If not permanently, then at least for a little while. What's more, the program I'd like to study for my MFA is offered in Essex and York. Perhaps a wild year abroad would be just enough to jump start my emotional health again. It felt alright. Not the perfect solution, but possible. </div>
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And then someone suggested I work for Disney and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't shake the thought from my head, which, to be honest with you, ticked me off at first. I knew that working for Disney would mean moving to Orlando and, frankly, my first experience in Orlando was less than awesome. I had a rather abusive phone call from my then vice principal just off Main Street in Magic Kingdom (this was months before we got the sexist/corrupt jerks fired) and I had a nasty experience with heat stroke that left me swearing that Orlando was a hellish swampland to which I never wanted to return. Why in heaven or earth it felt good to pursue a job in Orlando, the exact <i>opposite</i> corner of the US I'd like to live in and the exact opposite climate of England, I couldn't begin to explain. </div>
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Which was probably why I knew it was what I was supposed to do. It's my litmus test. When I feel inexplicably right, at peace, and motivated by something that I wouldn't normally want to do: it's right, and denying it is futile. </div>
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You know the end. I applied for about twenty jobs, got rejected from nineteen of them and hired by one. Within months I had packed up my life and driven across the country back to this place where it's 100 degrees and 200% humidity half the year. I left all those things I was terrified to lose: my friends, my family, my beautiful mountain home and the river trail. I took my final bow and decided to take a chance on something totally, thoroughly wild. </div>
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People have asked me why I did it. Why I chose to leave a decade long career in teaching to chase some dream? I never quite know how to respond to that question. So many times the questioner assumes I left teaching because I hated it or got worn down by it. In some ways, that's true. I don't like admitting that. I don't like admitting that a group of students managed to get to me so much that I just <i>couldn't take it</i>. That's why rookies leave. Not seasoned, experienced teachers with more backbone. I'm not a quitter. But I didn't leave teaching <i>only</i> for that. Students graduate. Classes change. And I love teaching. I still do. So why did I leave? The next part of that first question assumes it's to chase some life long dream of working for Disney. That's not entirely true either. Because my life long dream was to teach. To change the world through education. My dreams were never that wild, never that risky. But I needed a change, and Disney just <i>felt right</i>. </div>
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So how am I?</div>
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Most of the time I'm ridiculously happy. I like Florida way more than I thought I would. Even with the humidity and the roaches and the insane weather, I like Florida. I like what I do. It pays horribly, but there's lots of chance to grow and change and learn new things, and I like all of that. I like having a job I can leave at the office. I like a job that I know I do well. I like a job where I can address people who are upset and then send them on their way and not have to do more with them. Water off a duck's back. I like my co-workers and my leaders and I believe in what Disney stands for and strives to create. I love being a part of something that wonderful. </div>
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I love the feeling I have of, for the first time in my life, really, truly taking a risk on myself. I've never been good at that. Oh, I dream big. But ultimately my Anne Shirley imagination has always given way to Elinor Dashwood practicalities, and doing something that has required so much continual and open courage is a new feeling for me. </div>
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Other times I look at my life and wonder what on <i>earth</i> I did to myself. My path, once so clear and steady all the way to the horizon, now seems so much less obvious. The straight path is now crooked, forking out in so many possible directions I hardly know which one to follow, which is both thrilling and <i>wholly</i> overwhelming. </div>
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When I was getting ready to move, I described once to a friend that I felt like I was being put through faith pushups. That as soon as I was sure I was done (and, let's be clear, I hate working out in most senses, so it usually wasn't very long), my coach would demand another. Then another. Then ten more. I think the whirlwind of first arriving here and the distraction of setting up a house and learning a new job allowed me a brief cool down. Now the coach is asking for more. </div>
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So for those of you who have been on my side, who have cheered me on and supported me, I wanted to say thank you. I've been listening to <i>Anne of the Island</i> again and was reminded of how disparaging her town was of her pursuing college education after teaching. I've had the exact <i>opposite</i> experience from my "town", and for that I am so grateful. Come visit. Please. I would love to show you around.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-90162643792460951572017-07-02T17:08:00.000-06:002017-07-02T17:08:39.798-06:00London Days Two-Three<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I’ve never attempted to “do” London in such a short time before - I’m glad that this isn’t my first (and certainty won’t be my last) trip to this amazing city. It makes it so much easier to be content with all that we’re missing out on and all I wish I could see. I haven’t been back to the Tate Britain since the first time I visited ten years ago. I’ve never toured Kensington Palace and we didn’t make the Churchill War Rooms this time (there’s no time to wait in a line to get in if you have so little time to see anything). Even so, I don’t feel panicked or bothered. There’s always another trip. My first time to Europe I thought I would never go back, or at least not for a long time. I’ve since learned that when you are single and gainfully employed and love to travel, then there’s always another trip. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">That in mind, I decided long ago that this leg of the trip wasn’t about me - it was about trying to find a way to give my dad and my brother the best trip to this city as I could. I think we’ve been successful. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Yesterday we started off on Portobello Road. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. It’s a great place to get good and inexpensive gifts and certainly an experience that’s part of being a London tourist, but I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">am</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> traveling with two men. I was surprised at how much they seemed to like it, given that dad doesn’t like shopping. We didn’t stay long, which suited all of us since the crowds are always so thick that tolerance wears thin, but it was a successful trip and both dad and Jared said it was one of their favorite parts of London, so it wasn’t a terrible idea after all. Phew. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">After Portobello we went on a walk through Kensington Gardens, my favorite of all the London parks. Because it is so vast with so much green space, it always feels less crowded than the other parks to me. Plus, there’s that </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Peter Pan</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> connection I can’t seem to get away from. (Not like I’m trying that hard.) In addition to the pilgrimage to see Peter, we also went by the entrance to Kensington itself (lined with flowers in honor of Diana’s birthday yesterday, which was nice to see), and went by the memorial fountain to Diana. I love that fountain - I love that it was designed and is used for kids to run around and play in. The whole area was full of families stripping their children down to their underwear for an impromptu water party. Everyone was laughing and running around. Kids were turning cartwheels and parents were in the water with their kids. It was delightful and, I think, honored her spirit quite well. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We also went to another London first for me - The Wallace Collection. This museum was a residence that became an art museum because of the vast collection of the owner. Unlike some of those museums I’ve been in before in Europe that feel like a bizarre attic of random junk, this one was pretty stunning. The collection of armor was jaw-dropping. I’ve never seen such beautiful weaponry. Truly. It was </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">beautiful</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. Usually when I see armor in a museum I kind of nod and walk on, but this was gorgeous. There were also some other well known paintings, including a portrait of a young Victoria and </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Swing</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">, what inspired us to come in the first place (Jared studied it in school and wanted to come see it.). Actually, Jared’s been dead useful on this trip when it comes to art. He took an art history in school and has been a fountain of little tidbits on paintings I hadn’t known about before. We wouldn’t have discovered that little gem of a museum without him and I’m glad we did. It’s small but wonderful. I enjoyed our visit there very much. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">After that we went for a walk along the Thames and found dinner (well, dinner for me - the boys wanted to save room to go visit Jamie Oliver’s burger joint. These burgers are what they described as “orgasmic”. I have never in my life had a burger that tasted differently than any other burger to me and certainly none that turned me on so. . .you’ll have to take their word for it.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Our second show was </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Lion King</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">, which was just as good as the last time I saw it. There is certainly a benefit to seeing it in a theater where it isn’t touring - the set was particularly impressive in ways that the touring casts I’ve seen before can’t have. I was especially taken this time by the powerful way the lionesses are portrayed. I’d never really considered </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Lion King</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> as a particularly feminist story, but the way that the musical enhances the role of the women really touched me this time. My favorite moment in the show was Nala’s </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Shadowlands</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. Seeing the lionesses stand together in tragedy was beautiful. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today we began with a visit to the parks surrounding Buckingham Palace, where we arrived in time to see the Trooping of the Colours. I’ve never seen this before because </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">crowds</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">, but it was fun to see the guards going by. I wouldn’t make a special trip to see it, but I’m glad it happened while we were there. After that we walked back to the National Gallery, always a safe bet. Dad has a lower interest in museums than either Jared or I (I could probably museum hop my way around London and not get too sick of it), but he was a trooper and our visit was short. I was particularly taken by a temporary installation of a piece called </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Caged Bird Sings</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> by Chris Ofili. Ofili is a British watercolor painter who worked with some weavers in Edinburgh to create an enormous tapestry inspired by Maya Angelou’s book, </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. The piece is enormous and looks like a painting from a distance. Up close you can see the woven elements. The color is so sharp and breathtaking - I was utterly stunned by the whole thing and thought the visit was worth it just to see it. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The highlight of the day for me was Evensong at Westminster Abbey. I love Evensong service in general, and have never heard it in Westminster. The sermon today was inspired by the upcoming 500th anniversary of Martin Luther’s 95 Thesis. The speaker discussed that the contents of the thesis were not nearly as important as the act of even daring to speak out in the first place, and transitioned into speaking about the power of music in converting hearts. This is an appropriate topic in an Evensong service (which is mostly music), but there was a wonderful reminder of the ability of congregational singing to effect the spirit in others. I am grateful for music and for the love of singing that I have. (I should also probably take this time to apologize to my neighbors who frequently hear me belting showtunes at all hours of the night when I’m performing. Sorry ‘bout that.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Our final stop for the day was </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Play That Goes Wrong</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">, which was so awesome last year I had to bring my brother and dad back. We all had a great time and it made me anxious to get back and get started on rehearsals of my own. Nothing like seeing good theater to inspire you to put on a good show yourself. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Incidentally, here are some statistics of the trip: </span></div>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Miles walked: approximately 150. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Alpine Slide trips: 4</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Books in my suitcase (not including my journal/script): 10 (HOW?! - I came with 0.)</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Chocolate bars purchased: 21 (Oy.)</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Countries visited: 9</span></li>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I am ready to go home. As is often the case at the end of a trip, there comes a point where living out of a suitcase and spending so much money gets tiring and you long for your own bed. I miss my cat. I miss regular and reliable cell service. I miss my friends and I’m excited to get my show underway and to get prepared for the school year. All the same, this has been a truly unique and special trip for me. It has been different than many of the other trips I’ve taken, especially since I’ve been visiting places that I’ve been before with people who haven’t been, and it’s given me new insight in how to get joy in the joy of others. Traveling and being single can be inherently selfish experiences, but that slight shift in focus has been good for me. I am grateful to be going home, and grateful to have come. What a gift.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-55989827953305087732017-06-30T17:11:00.001-06:002017-06-30T17:11:23.042-06:00London Day One<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Yesterday was another travel day with not too much to report. We visited Bern on the way back into Germany (where we had to drop our rental car). I had to admit ignorance and that I had no idea that Bern was the capitol of Switzerland. In my head it was Geneva, but that’s probably because of all the conventions/the Olympics? I don’t know. I have a pretty great depth of knowledge when it comes to the arts and history, but those blasted geography Jeopardy categories just kill me. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We had a short time in Bern but I feel like we used the time well, and it was long enough to give me yet </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">another </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">city in Switzerland I need to go back to. Bern (which sounds more like the American “bear” than “burn”) is home to a pretty awesome bear pit - the Bern bears are active and adorable and made Jared talk weird, so it was an all around win. I knew going in that bears were the symbol of Bern, what I didn’t know was that St. Bernards came from the area as well - the whole town was full of large painted dog statues and we sort of put two and two together with one of those “oh. . . Duh,” kind of light bulbs. The whole town is a UNESCO World Heritage site because it’s so old - a good portion of the town dates into the Medieval period, including a particularly famous clock I saw on a Rick Steves episode once that was built in the early 13th Century. We happened upon it a few minutes before it chimed. Truthfully it was a little “meh”, I felt, but it was awesome to see something so old work so well for as long as it has?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">After Bern we went across the border into Germany to our hotel in a town called Weil am Rhine where we dropped our luggage, then went to return our rental car and to head into Basel back in Switzerland. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The fun thing about improvising as you travel is that you often end up doing something totally wonderful and unexpected and quirky. That happened several times last year when we found some random hikes, new National Trust sites, and the ever memorable (if bizarre) Mystery Play in York. It also means that sometimes you come across some true wastes of time. That was Basel for us, unfortunately. We went in the direction of what was assumed to be the old part of town (always a good bet for tourist options), but ended up walking through what must be the armpit of Switzerland down a seriously sketchy street where I saw at least one drug deal actually go down. Eventually we found what we’d been hoping to see - the Three Countries Bridge where you can view France, Switzerland, and Germany all at the same time. This also ended up being a bit of a joke because it was in the middle of a little peninsula in the harbor that we had to walk about a mile to get to and away from, only to find that it wasn’t actually a place where you could stand in all three countries as we’d thought. Ah well. Best laid plans? The night ended well, at least. We blew all our change in a grocery store on as many Haribo gummy bears as we could afford. (In truth, I also bought some cough drops, not because I’m sick, but because they have different flavors to try! I’m a sucker for things like that. . . )</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today we started the final leg of our trip by heading into London. They say that when you’re tired of London you’re tired of life, and I can tell you right now that I will </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">never</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> tire of London. I adore this city. I love the cacophony of languages and sounds and smells around every corner. I love the culture, the history, the people. So help me, one of these days I’m going to move here and never come back.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I got to embrace the life of a solo Londoner for a bit tonight when the boys went off to </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Les Miserables</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> and I went off to see </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">An American in Paris. </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">It’s tradition for me to see a show every night I’m here, but coming with two men who are interested in theatre but aren’t exactly theatre junkies meant playing it a little safer in the selection of shows than I normally would in such a short stay, and the other two shows we’re seeing are shows I’ve seen before. I went rogue tonight and I’m so glad I did, partly because I enjoy time by myself and partly because Gershwin music is so dreamy. The musical was more poignant than I anticipated, had an absolutely perfect cast, and was enough to turn this cold-hearted “romance will never find me!” cat woman into a puddle of “LOVE PLEASE COME FIND ME AND PLEASE SING LIKE THAT.” Oh, London. You always make me feel as though I were born in the wrong place in the wrong time.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-84054808712394247462017-06-28T15:05:00.002-06:002017-06-28T15:05:26.549-06:00Harder Kulm<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I wasn’t planning on writing today - I still am not entirely sure of what to say, given that today was very much like yesterday in all the essential pieces. I even had the same meals (bread, cheese, fruit - pretty standard cheap European lunch/dinner option.) As it is, I’m in the middle of watching the end of the last Harry Potter movie and feeling quite sentimental and sad over silly things like the death of fictional characters (Lupin! Tonks! FRED.) and over celebrities I never met (Alan Rickman! John Hurt!) and mostly I feel like writing </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">something</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. I have no idea how trip related it will even be and most of this will probably come out like a stream of thought mess, but that’s more or less where my mind is right now, so . . . Either grab the oxygen mask as it descends from the metaphorical ceiling before reading or find the nearest exit?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">It will start trip related, at least. Today we took a ride up to the Harderkulm (or Harder Kulm - I’ve seen it both ways). This point - about 4,000 feet above sea level, offers an amazing view of Interlaken, the turquoise glacier water filled lakes and rivers, the towns below - it’s breathtakingly beautiful (like everything else in the alps, lets be serious.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Looking down over the valley I thought, as I often do when I travel, about the people to whom Interlaken is not a vacation destination but home. Where the mountains and lakes we take thousands of pictures of are part of a back garden, a commute to work, a normal every-day expectancy. I thought about the writers I love who have been inspired by the alps or other scenes of nature. I thought about William Wordsworth who wrote of daffodils and Emerson who went to the woods to live deliberately, and Moses who climbed mountains to commune with God and Mary Shelly who found mountains filled with monsters. Frodo who climbed a mountain to destroy a ring, Heidi who climbed a mountain to lead a simpler life.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I thought again about England. Everything reminds me of England. And when I say this, I don’t mean England the </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">country</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> so much as England the study abroad. Before I left for this trip I went back and read my journals from that one. It was ten years ago. It was on that trip that I realized how introverted I become in large groups. How much I love solitude in nature. That trip taught me the power of throwing yourself into something. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">When I look back on who I was then, I feel a whole range of emotion. Where I am now and where I thought I would be then are widely different. In many ways, I have become exactly what I feared I would: a cat obsessed Mormon spinster with as many prospects of love now as I had then: a delightful </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">zero</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. I’ve had roughly the same number of dates in the last year as I had that year (again, nearly zero). I hate dating now about as much as I did then, though for slightly different reasons. I want to take the somewhat boy obsessed girl who watched all her friends get married that summer and tell her to buckle up, settle in, and get over it. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I also want to sit that girl down and tell her that in more critical ways, she was going to become and experience </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">exactly</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> what she hoped she would and more. On that trip I watched friends who were far more adventurous and deep thinking than I and wished I could keep up. I was one of the youngest in that group - if not </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">the</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> youngest, and I saw so many I wished to be like. Now I find myself thinking and analyzing not just literature but so many other things in ways that bring my life satisfaction and excitement. I watched as friends went off on adventures and thought that I would never be so brave - I was too afraid to go on roller coasters at that point, how would I ever manage to do anything that required even the smallest amount of legitimate courage? But now I see myself and think that I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">am</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> a brave person. Not “walk into the woods and let Voldemort kill me” level of brave, perhaps, but I have traveled the world, bought a house, taken several jobs that were too big for me - and I’ve somehow managed to buck up and make things work. I’ve even forced myself onto enough roller coasters to admit that A) I don’t get motion sickness (the real reason I never rode them) and B) that I don’t die on them, so I may as well just go and have fun. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I want to give that girl a glimpse (not the whole picture, but a glimpse) of the joy teaching brings. Of the shows she will perform in. I want to tell her that she </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">can</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> love, and that she can survive being broken by it. I want to shove a bottle of Lexapro toward her and tell her to save herself some serious grief and just start medication already. I want to tell her to get into the mountains a bit more and to take a few more deep breaths of air before focusing so much on checklists of things to do. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Mostly I just want to tell her that she’s pretty much the luckiest girl in the world, with the greatest family and the cutest cat (that has yet to be born) and the best friends and the greatest opportunities a person could ask for. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">(I also want to tell her she’s damn lucky to live in a world where there is still another </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Harry Potter</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> book to read for the first time, because that is a pretty awesome world to live in.)</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-16552374838371955692017-06-27T14:25:00.002-06:002017-06-27T14:25:23.062-06:00Interlaken<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Yesterday we left Salzburg early in the morning and left for Interlaken. It was a long day of driving with not much to report that pictures on Facebook wouldn’t have conveyed. We did go into five different countries yesterday (Austria, Germany, Italy, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland). The men finished two individual liter bottles of Coke while I steadily sipped away at my 500 ml bottle and finished toward the end of our seven hours of driving. I would also like to say definitively that there are no men in the world that can belch louder and with more enthusiastic glee than the men in my family. It is truly a gift.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Our time in Interlaken is something I’ve been looking forward to most on this trip. Most of the places we are going I have been before and recently, so seeing some new places here is exciting. Switzerland hasn’t disappointed at all. It may smell like sheep/cow/goat poo everywhere you go, but after two months of hiking through the English countryside that smell is a somewhat nostalgic one for me, so what it really puts me in the mood to do is go hike a mountain, which is exactly what we did today. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The weather during our time here is likely going to be pretty wet the rest of the time here, so today we had to pack in as much as we could. We got an early start and headed toward Oeschinen Lake. There are so many mountains that we could see, but Switzerland is freakishly expensive, and I’m traveling with one college student and two cheapskates, so the Oeschinensee was the best option - we could travel up the mountain by gondola and hike back down again (after the requisite ride on the alpine slide, of course.) We had looked at the map and assumed that the “hike” from the lake would be more of a walk, but it turned out we couldn’t park our car nearly as close was we wanted, which meant a much longer hike than planned. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Truthfully, I didn’t mind at all. I wished I’d come better prepared (I had a snack and some water, but my shoes weren’t ideal), but I really do love wandering around the mountains (and, as previously mentioned, when you can do so downhill, it’s an added bonus). The lake was stunning. We ran into some friendly goats and heard cowbells nearly the entire time and got some of the most stunning views I’ve ever seen on a hike. I’ve added to my bucket list the desire to come back here someday with my hiking boots, better gear, and a week or two to spend just wandering Interlaken on foot. There are so many trails here and I would </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">love</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> to come explore them.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">After our longer than expected (at least four miles) hike down the mountain, we got back in the car, headed for a bakery (because that’s the reward for physical labor), then drove off to Trummelbach Falls. These are some </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">truly</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> crazy falls - ten in all - that come thundering from the glaciers of three separate peaks in the Interlaken valley. What’s so great about Trummelbach is that each of the ten falls are viewable thanks to a series of tunnels that, in some cases, are illuminated from inside so you can see better. The force of the water is incredible and slightly terrifying. In the truest sense of the word ‘awful’ I was struck with both fear and awe at how mighty they were, especially toward the top. The falls carry up to 20,000 liters of water into the valley every second, which is difficult for me to fathom.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today is one of those travel days, similar to our day in Hallstatt, where even my vocabulary can’t quite work around an appropriate description for all that we saw today. It was beautiful. It was stunning. It was unforgettable. This little taste of hiking in the alps wasn’t good enough for me. I want more, and I want to do it prepared next time. And there </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">will</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> be a next time. When I was younger I was afraid that when I grew up (and especially when I married), I would have to give up all of my favorite things. I’ve learned since then by watching those who have married and by living my own life that when you love something, you make it happen. Traveling the world is something I make happen. I am not content to sit back and settle down in one part of the world - I want to see everything that I can. *</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">*With special emphasis on places that aren’t crazy hot/humid, because I’m a bit of a weather wimp. It’s probably my greatest travel flaw.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-16337465646511663712017-06-25T15:06:00.002-06:002017-06-25T15:18:17.515-06:00Herrenchimsee<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13.4px;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Thus far the weather on our trip has been nearly perfect. It’s been hotter than blazes and more humid than I prefer, but it has been sunny and pretty. Today begins what looks like the end of our good weather luck - rain is forecast for nearly our entire stay in Switzerland and possibly for London as well. Ah well. I once had a friend tell me about a pastry shop I needed to go visit when I was traveling to Boston. “It will have a long line, but soldier on,” she said. “It’s worth it.” This has essentially become my travel motto: soldier on. Bad weather be damned, we are going to see what we want to see!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today we went out to Herrenchimsee, one of the castles of “Mad” King Ludwig II. Ludwig is a king that reminds me of Louis XVI of France or Nicholas II of Russia - men with great talents and passions who </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">never</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> should have been rulers of countries. Ludwig himself was a great patron of the arts and a man with a great fascination for invention and modern technology. He was also very probably gay in a time when it really just wasn’t allowed (at least not in public). His death is a mystery, but his legacy is one of extremely lavish spending. His most famous architectural project, Neuschwanstein is probably his best known project, but his most expensive project was Herrenchimsee, located on an island in the middle of the Chimsee lake in the south eastern corner of Germany. Like Neuschwanstein, it is unfinished. What </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">is</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> finished is both fascinating and, frankly, a little disgusting - at least when you consider the amount of taxation it took to make such projects possible. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Herrenchimsee is Ludwig’s love letter to Louis XIV of France. Louis XIV, known as “The Sun King”, was the idol of many royals who longed for days of absolute power. Louis XIV reigned for ages (seventy two years) and built the palace that monarchs all around the world tried to copy - Versailles. As a result, the most finished sections of Herrenchimsee are museum replicas of the most famous rooms in Versailles, such as the bedchamber of the king and the hall of mirrors. These rooms were only ever intended as museum pieces. The state room bed was never slept in, for example. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The castle also includes some funny modern updates that reminded me a bit of when I visited the Newport Mansions in Rhode Island. Ludwig was king in the late 1800s when technology was advanced enough to allow luxuries that didn’t exist in Louis’ day - indoor heating, for example. My favorite update was a clever trap door for a table, so that the dinner table could be decorated and loaded with food and then lifted back upstairs using a pulley system. One of the great flaws of Versailles was that the kitchens were so far away from the dining rooms that it would take more than twenty minutes of walking to get food to the table. This should have solved the problem in Herrenchimsee, but since the palace was never finished, this ended up being a bit useless since they had to haul food over to the palace from the old palace on the island. Whelp. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">My other favorite piece was an orb at the end of Ludwig’s bed that looked like the Palantir from </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Lord of the Rings</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. Three candles could be lit inside of it so that the room was cast in a beautiful blue light. Perhaps Ludwig was afraid of the dark?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Ludwig only stayed in the castle for ten days before his mysterious death - to this day no one knows exactly how he died, only that he was found dead with his physician. It could have been suicide, murder, or an accident. Most studies I’ve read assume it was suicide, and it does seem to add up that way. Like the dynasty he idolized, I think that Ludwig realized that lavish spending not only thoroughly pisses off the people you rule, but also leaves you feeling empty and lonely. Furthermore, being a closeted gay king must have been incredibly difficult and lonely. I’m sure his life was anything but the fairy tale he tried to create in his castles.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-42257442364369932052017-06-24T17:24:00.001-06:002017-06-24T17:24:02.333-06:00Salzburg<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">After the profundity of yesterday, today’s post is going to seem a little thin when it comes to thought provoking </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">anything</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. Today was just </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">fun</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We started the day off by climbing a mountain in my absolute favorite way: via ski lift. Don’t get me wrong - I actually really enjoy hiking. I spent two months doing almost nothing </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">but</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> hiking ten years ago when I went on my study abroad. But that trip taught me something important about myself: what I really enjoy isn’t so much hiking as it is long distance walking. Climbing up and down mountains isn’t my natural preference. (Though I swear if someone offered me a chance to go hike any of the mountains we hiked in England on my study abroad I would do it in a second.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Our purpose for going up the mountain was pretty simple: we wanted to get some awesome pictures and ride down the mountain on the alpine slide as fast as we possibly could. One of those two was fulfilled - the pictures turned out to be stunning (not that it’s hard to take good pictures of the alps. You’d have to be a truly ignorant photographer to get a bad picture around here.) The ride down was less than exciting, which was frustrating because the track we went on was the longest in Austria. We got stuck behind an older woman who went down about as fast as a snail could. I tried to take this chance to be less frustrated with the lady in front of me and more grateful for the chance to take in such a great view, but we all left the track a little frustrated. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Fortunately, the Saltzkammergut (or Lake District) is full of these slides, so while driving toward our destination, we saw another slide, decided we would go down any we came upon </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">because we could</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> and got another ride down a different mountain. This one had a much less spectacular view but a </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">far </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">more satisfactory ride, so it all came out even in the end. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We made it to Hallstatt around lunch time. Hallstatt is a total dream. It’s Disneyland level adorable, which means it is totally packed with tourists. The poor people who live there - I mean, they get the best view of any neighborhood in the entire world, but they do so at the cost of having a million Asians trying to break into your back yard each day. (Seriously, though - there are signs on most of the gates to private residences that are only in what looks like Chinese. In the spirit of fairness and in an attempt not to sound like a total racist, lots of these signs were in a combination of English and Chinese, so stupid American tourists may not seem much better to the citizens of Hallstatt.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Hallstatt is known for its salt mines (its how the city made money/makes money), but also features two beautiful churches, swans in the lake, homes built into the mountains, and enough shopping to satisfy anyone’s need to schlep belongings around. I managed to make it out alive with only a few gifts for other people and some salt to take home. The last packet I bought lasted me until recently, so I should be set on salt for the next eight years (I bought two for myself.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Upon returning to the city, we packed back up and walked into the old town of Salzburg. The weather here tomorrow isn’t supposed to be great, so if we were going to enjoy the city at all it had to be today. It ended up being a very enjoyable evening. We stumbled upon my favorite chocolate shop in the world where I made it out alive and with three more bars for my collection (I’m up to nine). We also came across an extremely chatty Croatian painter who charmed us like the crazy tourists we are into buying three of his pieces to take home. We made it over to the Mirabel Gardens where we took Sound of Music pictures to our hearts’ content (along with every other tourist in town.) The evening ended at the Festung (fortress) where we watched the sun set over the city.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">You know, I have a lot to look forward to when this trip is over. I have a kitty to cuddle, rehearsals to dive into, books to read and more fun plans to make for the upcoming school year. It’s easy to forget where I am and think about how much there is on the horizon that's making my life beautiful. On top of the Festung, though, I felt truly grateful to be exactly where I was, when I was, with who I was. Salzburg is one of my favorite cities. To be here again is such a gift. So many people are lucky to visit Europe even once in their lifetime, and this is my fifth trip in ten years. I have seen amazing things, met wonderful people, tried fantastic food, and had the chance to take in the beauty that comes in variety on this earth. I am blessed. I am so, so blessed. All I could think about as I looked out at the city was the words to the hymn “I Stand All Amazed”. I feel quite confused at the grace that so fully I am given by God - in awe and utter bewilderment that I have been granted so many chances to do what I love. Traveling the world is such a luxury. I know (even when I’m surrounded by masses of camera wielding tourists) that it is a gift that is rare and perhaps even unnecessary, but it is something I am so grateful for. I hope that I take the lessons and experiences I gain when I travel and use them to make my corner of the world a better place.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-5860186150186564722017-06-23T14:46:00.002-06:002017-06-23T14:46:50.877-06:00Mauthausen <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We left Spitzkunnersdorf early this morning. Juergen and Gerlinde fed us a delicious breakfast. We will definitely miss the family feeling at mealtimes - Gerlinde is an excellent cook. Juergen commented that Jared could probably learn to speak perfect German in about three months (he does have a knack for languages.). He also called me a “spy”, saying that I understand way more than I let on. I don’t know if that’s entirely accurate - I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">do</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> think I pick up on conversations decently well in German, but I don’t know that I can attribute that to my understanding of German so much as picking up on the odd word here or there and figuring out context enough to make a decent guess. Learning new languages has always been a struggle for me. I think some would find this ironic, given my love of language, but the reality is that I rely so much on English for communication that I don’t think I’d ever learn a new language unless I was completely drowned in it, with no choice to come up for conversational air unless I learned to swim.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Whatever the reality in my understanding of conversations the last few days, I’m glad that I was at least able to pick up on some things or I think I’d have gone mad from silence. Being silent in a conversation has never really been a forte of mine.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today was mostly a travel day. We drove through the Czech Republic and into Austria where we will stay in Salzburg for the next several days. On our way in we decided to stop at Mauthausen, a concentration camp outside of Linz in Austria. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I’ve done a bit of reading on Mauthausen tonight and am truthfully quite shocked I’d never heard of it until we did that bizarre and demented google of “good concentration camp to see near Salzburg”. I think most people who’ve studied the Holocaust have heard of camps like Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen and Dachau. Mauthausen has never been on my mental list of “major camps”, but the research I did tonight has left me feeling utterly ill. I am no novice when it comes to World War II research and Holocaust literature (Jewish culture junkie here), but there were things done at Mauthausen I’d never heard of before. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The sickening irony of Mauthausen, I suppose, is that it is in the most beautiful location. It is situated on the top of a hill overlooking a peaceful, rolling valley of farmland. It was chosen as a work camp shortly after the Anschluss because of this prominent location - it was supposed to be visible and intimidating. It is. It </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">still</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> is. Where Dachau is mostly torn down, Mauthausen is still a fortress with many of the buildings still up just as they were when it was a prison. Mauthausen became the center of the camps in the area - there were several hundred smaller ones, but Mauthausen was the largest and was designed to be the worst. Prisoners that were sent to Mauthausen were ones that had committed the worst crimes against the Reich, which meant that these prisoners were likely to be extremely intelligent individuals that the Nazis wanted to completely break. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Prisoners at Mauthausen were forced to haul extremely heavy granite rocks up what were known as the “Stairs of Death”. Prisoners would have to run as quickly as they could up the stairs and pray that the prisoner in front of them didn’t fall. It was common for a sort of domino effect to happen where one would fall and cause those behind him to fall as well. Those who survived this treatment were often led to the edge of the cliff where they were either shot into the quarry below or told to shove the person next to them into the quarry. The average weight of the prisoners there was something like 88 pounds.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Stepping into the gas chambers was like having all the wind knocked out of me. There were marks on the walls of prisoners writing last messages to their families. Claw marks trying to get out the doors. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Mauthausen today stands as a truly beautiful monument to those who fought. Because of its location, Mauthausen housed prisoners from dozens of countries. The yard where prisoners were once forced to work is now a memorial garden, where each country or group has erected a unique memorial to honor their citizens. There are some triumphant Hungarian men, standing together with their arms raised in defiance. A monument to the children who were brought to the camp where the figure of the child is a slide. There is an enormous menorah covered in rocks to honor the Jewish prisoners. The garden was peaceful and serene and healing.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">It was hot today. Swelteringly hot. I was miserable after about ten minutes and dripping with sweat in the humidity. I’d left my water behind on accident in Juergen and Gerlinde’s car and I could feel the dehydration setting in. It felt a little petty to complain of such things in such a short time after so many had suffered more deeply than an hour of heat that would be solved with an air conditioner.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The actual death toll at Mauthausen is incalculable - so many of the records were destroyed that estimates range from 110,000 to more than 300,000. We’ll never know for sure - at least not in this life - but visiting places like this is important to me. We </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">need</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> to see Dachau and Mauthausen. We need to visit slave quarters in the southern states. We need to visit Internment Camps in the west. We need to see these places so that we can touch them and know that they are real. We need to look at evil through the glass darkly so that we can avoid looking at it eye to eye and do nothing about it. Visiting places like Mauthausen remind me to be more compassionate, to fight more intensely for the rights of others, and to stand up more firmly against institutions or individuals that threaten the rights all citizens should have to worship and live according to the dictates of their own conscience.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-19888278976066486502017-06-22T14:59:00.003-06:002017-06-22T14:59:44.146-06:00Dresden<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">If you travel enough around Europe, you start to get a sense for the different ways the 20th century has left its mark. Most of Eastern Europe is still struggling in one form or another from the aftermath of two wars, either from the results of heavy bombing or communism or both. That’s not to say you shouldn’t go to Eastern Europe - it just means a totally different visual experience after seeing cities like Paris or London, which faced the same wars with totally different recovery experiences. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Dresden, then, is a very unique city. The capital of Saxony, Dresden has a long history as a royal residence and city of culture. The city is particularly well known for its production of porcelain, something it continues to do today. During the early part of World War II, Dresden was a hub of Nazi activity. Some 6-7,000 Jews (or accused Jews) were evacuated from the city. More than a thousand “undesirables” of multiple kinds were executed in the center of town. It’s position on the eastern edge of Germany made it an important defense against the Russians, and it became a major communications and manufacturing center for the Axis. As the war came to an end, Dresden became home to hundreds of thousands of refugees. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">To help pressure the Axis surrender, the RAF and American Air Force conducted a three day blitz on the city that killed somewhere between 18,000-25,000 people in addition to essentially flattening the central part of the city. The city once known as the “Jewel Box” was reduced to rubble, and being part of the Eastern Bloc led to a slow recovery. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">You wouldn’t guess it to look at Dresden now. Dresden as a city has been lovingly and carefully restored so that it maintains the charm and beauty it was known for for so many years. Perhaps the most easily recognizable restoration project was the Frauenkirche. This once great Lutheran church was considered a monument to the war for more than fifty years; left as a pile of rubble in the center of the city. It wasn’t until 1994 that the city had the funds with which to restore the church, and in 2005 it was finished. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Now, Dresden is known as “Silicon Saxony” and is once again at the center of technological development in Germany. There is a museum dedicated to different types of vehicles, for example. Another for the military. We spent our time, however, in the more traditional art museum. It’s a small collection (that looks like it will expand significantly in 2018 when they are finished restoring part of the old castle the art is stored in), but the collection was good. The more art I see the more I find myself drawn to the Dutch and Italian artists, though turn of the century Spanish art is fascinating to me (Guernica is on my list of paintings I need to see before I die.) </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">There were several paintings I really liked, but I think my favorite one was about the Holy Family fleeing Egypt. What was so interesting to me about the piece was how hidden that moment was. The focus of the painting is mostly on a normal pastoral scene with people going about their business (in what definitely isn’t anywhere near Egypt). Hidden in the shadows off to the left are Mary and Jesus on a horse (donkey?) and Joseph leading them. I’d never have known it was meant to be a religious painting at all if I hadn’t looked at the title. Usually religious art from the period is so much more obvious - the evil are grotesquely ugly, the saintly are white faced and looking toward heaven. To see this significant moment in the Savior’s childhood displayed like an Eye-Spy book fascinated me and reminded me of how important it is to watch for holy things. We are asked to seek after anything that is virtuous, lovely, etc. If we don’t actively look for it, we may not find it. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We visited two churches today, the Frauenkirche (where everyone takes pictures even though you are asked not to - the workers in the building make no effort to stop anyone so I joined in without feeling too badly) and the Catholic Church (Die Katholische Hofkirche). This building was also destroyed during the war, and has been rebuilt beautifully. Ultimately today for me was a chance to reflect on the many ways in which people express and explore their faith. Even when some of these expressions feel foreign to me, I am in awe of those who dedicate their time and efforts toward honoring things they feel are sacred. So often I think we dismiss expressions of faith that don’t live in the schema we are used to as demonstrations of ignorance or foolishness at best and selfishness or greed at worst. And I’m sure there are many examples that could justify ignorance, foolishness, greed, etc. But when so many masses of people across so many generations willingly dedicate themselves to a belief - I have to believe that there is something there that is of great value that I can learn from. Today I saw the value in comparing ancient scripture to the modern day in the museum. I saw demonstrations of hope and healing in Christ in both the Catholic and Lutheran churches. I looked around Dresden and saw a testament to the power of people working hard for a common good. It was a good day. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Of course, the day would not be complete until after we visited the Chocolate store we walked by. I didn’t know such a thing even existed in Dresden, but as soon as we walked by I insisted on stopping back later on. About ten minutes and twenty euros later, I left with six new bars to try - the first in a collection that will undoubtedly be ridiculous by the time I board my plane back to the states. Ridiculous or perfect. Potayto potahto.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Tomorrow we leave the Neumanns for the lovely city of Salzburg. I will miss the time we’ve had with the Neumanns. They have been unfailingly generous and kind hosts. They’ve fed us amazing meals and treated us like family much closer in relation than we are in reality. I love them and their family and hope to see them again soon.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-38259085524628301132017-06-21T14:34:00.001-06:002017-06-21T14:34:14.702-06:00Prague<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I know very little about the Czech Republic other than the history of the land being passed back and forth between other countries before it gained independence, but I have always wanted to visit Prague. Truthfully, if you had asked me why, I wouldn't have known exactly what to say or I’d have said something vague about “hearing good things” about the city, which was about all I knew until we started doing some research for this trip. Prior to this year, the chance to visit Prague was essentially the chance to check (Czech?) another country off the bucket list. When we started doing more research, the chance to visit became more interesting and urgent. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">As it is I still feel like I only got the “cruise-ship edition” of the city - our time was extremely brief (only about five hours) so we barely got the chance to even start to process the old part of town, which is more crowded with obvious tourism than I’ve ever seen in Europe. Everywhere you turn are guides asking to take you on tours. Jared was wearing his Real Madrid shirt, which gave him the great excuse to speak to tour guides in whatever language they didn’t speak to him. They spoke Spanish, he spoke Portuguese. Portuguese, he’d speak English, and so on. I’ve learned to just ignore. Who needs a tour guide when you’ve studied Rick Steves?!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We made good use of our time. I found the Czech Republic on the whole quite dirty compared to most of my other European experiences, particularly when it comes to graffiti. It doesn’t seem to be the product of gang violence (at least not according to Gerlinde), just part of Czech culture. Prague seems to have escaped most of that. The subway is easy to navigate and well kept, a mercy given that none of us spoke a lick of Czech. Prague itself seems to be a pretty big exception to the rest of the country that we saw today on our drive in and out - where most cities seem to be run down and still struggling to recover from the effects of the war and communism, Prague was spared the bombings of the war and remains one of the most historic and beautiful cities in Eastern Europe. It is a crowded mess and does feel like a cruise port, but it is full of a variety of things to do and I’d love the chance to go back and do it more justice. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Ultimately today we settled for walking through the historic part of the city and over the Charles Bridge, which was built in the 1300s and still serves the city as a footpath across the river. The views of the city on either side of the river from here are lovely. Then we went back into the historic district to visit the Jewish Quarter. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Prague has a long connection with Jews, and for many years they have housed the largest (or one of the largest) populations of Jews in Europe. As with most cities, the Jews were invited in and expelled several times over, but each time they returned to Prague they flourished. At one point, Prague held about a quarter of the Jews in all of Europe, which is impressive. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, that didn’t last, and the Jews were eventually relegated to the specific part of town where the Jewish Quarter stands today. At first it was an unspoken rule, but it became law. Jews in Prague enjoyed many luxuries because of their numbers - there were about six synagogues, they even had their own government and their own flag (which they were allowed to fly). </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Of course, being confined in such large numbers to one part of town has its problems over the years as well. One such problem was in a place to bury their dead. They were allowed one cemetery - this small plot houses more than 200,000 people (often buried about twelve deep) in a small piece of land between two of the synagogues. Headstones crowd around each other only inches apart, barely enough distance between them to read the names at times. It was a sobering sight. Inside one of the other buildings is a memorial to all the Jews who were killed in concentration camps during the war. Each wall throughout the building have names inscribed of victims - going through room after room after room of nothing but names is intimidating and shocking. I don’t think my love of Jewish history will ever fade, nor do I think I’ll ever fully comprehend how people can be so horrible to one another.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We didn’t have much time to see all the features of the Jewish Quarter - after a tour of a synagogue we had to find food and head back so that we could catch our bus back to Germany. We did have time to stop for a pastry, though (there’s always time for that.) Today we tried a Prague specialty called “trdelnik”. Dough is wrapped around a pole and dipped into a sugar and crushed walnut mix, then cooked over a spit. You can eat them fresh off the pole or with ice cream. Mine had some Nutella on it as well. It was much larger than I could possibly have eaten on my own but well worth the calories. Delicious. Heaven bless the many people who have come up with so many delightful uses for flour and sugar and butter to be consumed!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Our night ended with a “family dinner” at Juergen and Gerlinde’s son’s home. His little boys ran around and played football/soccer with Jared, peed in the bushes, dove into the blow-up pool completely naked, and played all sorts of other games (real and imagined) that reminded me that childhood is universal and there are some things (like those damned fidget spinners) that are part of that universality. Even being as crippled as I am with conversation this week, I had lots of fun watching those little boys play with the same physical and mental abandon that you see in children on the other side of the world. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-50036934656239083072017-06-20T13:56:00.001-06:002017-06-20T13:56:07.883-06:00Spitzkunnersdorf<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I am admittedly biased against train travel in Germany. The last time I was here I spent an enormous amount of time hauling my suitcase up and down staircases (my fault, not the Germans’ fault) and cramming into non-air conditioned cars filled with drunk football fans (that one we can blame on the Germans.) When we started planning this trip, I pushed for us to rent a car instead. We couldn’t avoid a little bit of train travel, and it was enough to make me feel quite justified in the car rental. Yesterday’s train from Berlin to Dresden was so overcrowded with students that we ended up on bucket seats in the hallway for two hours. (Truthfully, we were probably lucky to get even those. I don’t think many of those without reserved seats knew that these hidden seats existed, but I did, so we did, at least, get a place to sit.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Once the stress of being in crowded train cars left (claustrophobia stresses me out), we were able to laugh at the situation. Mostly we were just glad we made the train. We were also able to re-assert an important traveling in Europe lesson: buy tickets for trains in advance.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The rest of yesterday was mostly spent in the car with me crowded in the back between the men and trying to get a whiff of air conditioning. (I never feel more like an American than when I realize how dependent I am on climate control.) </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The rest of the day was a fairly relaxed evening socializing with Juergen and Gerlinde Neumann, who are distantly related to me. We have a common ancestor with Gerlinde, funnily enough, though she’s not a Neumann by birth and Juergen is. Since my German is limited to things like “Guten tag” and “danke”, I mostly sit and listen to the conversations, but we make it work. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today was much busier. We spent the day enjoying the area around Spitzkunnersdorf and the adjoining cities. Spitzkunnersdorf’s Rathaus contains hand written records dating back to the early 1600s that we got to see, including the records of the births and baptisms of several of my ancestors (this, by the way, we looked at while the radio serenaded us to the 80s power ballad classic “You’re the Voice”. I nearly died trying not to laugh.) </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We also learned a bit more about the town itself, of which Juergen used to the the burgermeister. Spitzkunnersdorf itself was founded in 1347 and began primarily as a location for weavers. In fact, many of the homes in the area have distinct arches around the ground floor to help stabilize the structure of the house since the movement of the looms often caused architectural problems otherwise. Once the engine powered looms took over the dense population moved elsewhere, but some still remain. The town now has a population of just over a thousand. It was spared the bombings of World War II, but suffered a great deal under communism from 1949-1989. Even so, it’s hard to see that impact now. The town is beautifully kept and peaceful. It’s easy to see the effort spent in upkeep compared to the neighboring town of Zittau and even more so compared to the nearest city in Poland. Juergen drove us (briefly - he doesn’t like Poland) over the border and the difference is striking. Poor Poland suffered so intensely during and after the war - they’re still recovering from that toll. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The highlight of the day to me was visiting the church in Spitzkunnersdorf where my ancestors worshiped. I’ve been once before, but the spirit felt the same this time. There is something so special about being in a place where I know the foundation of faith was built for my family. I come from several lines of people who have sacrificed for what they believed in. We have not always believed the same thing or practiced faith in the same way, but that legacy is a powerful one to me. I hope I can honor this tradition and keep the ball rolling, so to speak. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We also got the chance to visit Zittau (where we had lunch) and a local Christmas store run by a friend of Gerlinde’s. The shop is small but packed with great decorations, many of which are hand made by the shop owners. I picked up something for myself and a gift for a friend as well.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Tomorrow we get the chance to go to Prague, which I am excited about, not least of which because I think it will put us all on equal language footing again. One thing that has been challenging about the last few days is in feeling so conversationally crippled. In addition to knowing my love of England, it doesn’t take long for someone who meets me to realize that communication is a big part of who I am. It might even be the most obnoxious and intimidating part of meeting me, I don’t know. What I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">do</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> know is that I miss being part of conversations I can keep up with!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-12987987419226432762017-06-18T13:00:00.003-06:002017-06-18T13:00:33.198-06:00Berlin (Day two)<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Normally when I travel around the world I do something different for church on Sundays. I believe that covetousness is a sin, but I have truly righteous envy of cathedrals and abbeys and all other religious places of worship that are old. Mormon churches are beautiful and clean but so very practical. When you’ve been in one, you’ve been in almost all of them. Especially of late, the buildings all follow the same basic pattern. There is comfort in predictability, but there’s also something about worship in an imposing space that changes the way I think about God. I don’t know that I want to do it all the time, but when I’m in Europe, it’s my preferred way to worship. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today, though, is Father’s Day; my father served as a missionary here ages ago and was itching to go to the branch where he attended for nearly a quarter of his time in Germany. I may (will probably) ditch the LDS services next week in favor of Salzburg Cathedral, but this week it seemed like the best choice was going with the family. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I’m glad that we did. This beautiful little building was full of people from varied walks of life. There couldn’t have been more than a hundred or so people there, but we heard at least four languages out of the group (German, of course, but also French, Portuguese, and English.) One sacrament prayer was in English, the other in German. One talk was in French then translated to German, another given in English and translated to German. A musical number was in English. It seemed as though about half the branch were American, including six missionaries. It was an excellent service, though, and I enjoyed it. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The best part of our visit there was seeing some of our family friends from Iowa who were there as well (what are the odds?!), and meeting one of dad’s old friends from his mission who is serving as a counselor in the bishopric. We also talked a bit with a man who told us the history of the building and reminded me so forcefully of my grandpa it was like he was there. The more time I spend in Germany the more I feel I understand my grandfather. He was not always an easy man to understand or to get along with - actually, most of the time he could be quite difficult to be patient with. But he loved stories, and he loved to share his stories. Don’t most people have a fundamental desire to share and to be understood? We all do so in different ways. Grandpa’s was through talking, and he especially loved doing so in German. Long after he left his mission (even his second one), German was spoken in his home. He would video chat with German and Austrian friends regularly. He had decorations around his home in honor of this country. I wonder sometimes if he felt like he was better understood here than in America. He was a true patriot, but I wonder if he felt more comfortable in the Alps than the Rockies in respect to his personality. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">If so, I know how he feels. I love my country, but anyone who spends even an hour with me will probably realize quickly my deep and abiding love for England. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Anyway. Family musings aside, it was worth the effort to go to church this morning. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Afterward we came back home to change and ventured out in search of some history. It’s not hard to find in Berlin. The city itself is soaked in what feels like four distinct eras: Pre World War II, During World War II, during the Wall and after the Wall. Everywhere you turn are memorials and reminders of each of these periods. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We started today primarily focussed on Berlin during the War by visiting the Topography of Terror museum. Located where the SS used to keep their records, this building outlines how the politics of the Nazis functioned - what laws and cultures and traditions were carried out in order to achieve the goals of the party. Most museums on the War are a bit more broad than this, but this museum focuses pretty tight on the Nazis themselves. The open room of the main floor exhibit is full of hanging panels displaying information beginning with the official founding of the party in 1933 and ending more or less with the present day. The panels themselves seem to sway since they are only anchored from the ceiling by wire, which means that reading the information makes you feel literally as well as symbolically sick. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Given the state of world politics right now, it’s difficult not to see some parallels between what happened in Germany in the early 30s and what’s going on in society now, but there are also some significant differences that give me hope that we have grown as a society. For example, the foundational principle of the Nazi party is that all men are not equal. There was intense focus on getting rid of any danger to the “Volk community” to which everyone should belong. Any non-conformity to the community was publicly shamed - there were pictures of women being shaved in town squares, for example. Men standing on chairs with signs around their neck like Jane Eyre while she attends school. Although we do see great societal pressure to conform, we also live in a time of reaction against conformity and celebration of minority groups over the majority. The internet has helped give smaller factions of society unity and the government isn’t in the practice of casually humiliating the average citizen for being different. That’s not to say that our laws are perfect and all government leaders free from bias, but there does seem to be a difference here. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">On the other hand, there was a common sentiment among the Nazi party that there was no room in the country for “useless eaters”. It’s hard to ignore the debates going on all over the world right now of what to do for the poor, especially the refugees that are fleeing dangerous governments. My heart breaks when I hear these individuals spoken of in such an attitude as this one.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">There was a smaller and temporary exhibit on the way that the Nazis used Martin Luther as the example of the best German. Luther was, admittedly, an anti-Semite. There are records of his calling for the burning of Synagogues (something the Germans took to quite literally on Kristallnacht, held, incidentally, on Luther’s birthday), but Luther on the whole was a man who fought passionately for people to worship more freely within Germany. I’d never heard of the new Nazi-Protestant/Catholic hybrid that was created once the Reich began - there were even crosses with the swastika emblazoned on them. Hitler once declared Jesus as the “greatest Aryan of all time” which is utterly mind boggling to me, given that he was not in any definition Aryan. (The benefit of this information is that now I’ve seen this document, I can quite literally the alt right Christians who want to establish some kind of white power movement on the foundations of Christianity that it is quite literally something Hitler would say.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Side note: Jared is still on a complete pun roll, but so many of them were said today in the Topography of Terror that were definitely not for the internet. Don’t get me wrong - some of them were crazy funny - but in the off chance that he ever applies for a job or public office, he’d probably be happier if that information didn’t follow him around. He did have one particular gem while we had lunch today, in which he declared his bratwurst the “brat best”.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">After the Topography of Terror we wandered around the Brandenburg Gate and Reichstag areas. The Brandenburg Gate is a huge tourist destination, of course, but I find it a rather sobering one. The first time I went was with family members who talked of their time in East Germany when they would only be able to approach so close to the Gate and attempt to see the beautiful cars driving in West Berlin. My dad was particularly taken by the Gate, given that he never thought he’d be able to walk so freely around it. Now it’s a haven of embassies (including the US) and other activities. Today we saw an imitation Mickey Mouse begging for change and pictures (who would remove his head to get a water break every five or so minutes in the heat) and a circle of people meditating. I don’t know how they manage to reach any benefits of meditation there - it’s so crowded that anyone who actually can meditate in such a place must be truly a master.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The Reichstag was damaged during the war and re-built with much more glass later on. The glass surrounding the Parliamentary chambers and the dome above it are said to represent the transparency in this new German government, something that seems to be going well. Keep in mind that it’s only been 28 years since the wall came down and Germany is already bailing out the rest of Europe </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">again</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. The Germans have never been content to sit back and watch the world develop. They’ve always been so active on the world scene. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Our last major stop for the day was back to the Kudamm where we briefly visited the Gedachtniskirche (another war casualty church that’s been rebuilt) and the Kathe Wolfhart Christmas shop. I went to the one in Rottenburg ob de Tauber ages ago and have been jealous of one of the ornaments my friend Nicole got ever since. They didn't have that ornament (grr), but I did pick up a few others that I’m happy about. Christmas ornaments are some of my favorite souvenirs because they are inexpensive and bring back memories of a good trip each year. This trip is shaping up to be a particularly memorable one. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Tomorrow we head off to Spitzkunnersdorf where we may be off the grid for a while until we head into Austria. Spitzkunnersdorf is quite rural and the last time I stayed there my internet access was severely limited. If you are actually reading these (hey, thanks!), you may not hear from me again until Thursday night or Friday. For now, I’m ready to collapse into bed. It may only be 9:00 here, but we’ve got an early train to catch into Dresden. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-90473694202609069892017-06-17T15:03:00.000-06:002017-06-17T15:03:15.806-06:00Europe Trip Day Two: Berlin<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Today is a testament to the amount of crazy you can fit into one day. It started with the realization at the Stanstead Airport that although we had checked into our Ryanair flight already, the app doesn’t pull up your boarding passes for you (like every other airline app. . . ) For that we’d need the internet. So we connected to wifi and found that the link didn’t work to pull up boarding passes. So we got in the line for people who didn’t have boarding passes printed. Then a man called everyone going to Berlin to queue in another line that was supposed to be faster since our flight was leaving within the next hour and a half. The line </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">wasn’t</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> faster, and because we didn’t have our boarding passes, we had to queue in yet another line for customer service to get our passes printed at 15 GBP a person. (Special shout out to the friendly gent who let us connect to his mobile hotspot to attempt to pull up the passes. Surprise surprise, the link still didn’t work on the Ryanair website.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Fearing that we’d miss our flight, we found the man who’d called us over to the “shorter” queue to explain our plight. He pulled us to the front of the queue, examined the phone, then asked the customer service desk to print our passes free of charge (YES.) and sent us off to security. I don’t believe in three Nephite conspiracy stories, but I do believe in two Nephite conspiracies and if you were wondering, one of them is a 20 something metrosexual and the other an older bald man.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The fun continued with both of our bags being pulled to be searched (because iPads count as laptops now?) and then us having to haul ourselves through what felt like two miles of stores before we arrived at anything remotely resembling an airport. We had to swim through clouds of Chanel No. 5 and piles of Toblerone just in time to make it to our gate (after a brief pit stop to the WC where dad realized that he’d put his trousers on over his basketball shorts that morning. Oops.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The rest of the day has gone off more or less without a hitch. Dad and I arrived about an hour before Jared, so we explored our street for a bit before meeting up with him. After that we ran for a quick lunch and off to explore the town. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Berlin as a city is so fascinating. Few cities I’ve been to have quite such a dynamic history as Berlin, given that something like 80% of the city was destroyed in the war and had to be rebuilt (half of which under the influence of crippling communism). As a city, Berlin is a study of great contrasts. The city seems to examine itself from a slight distance, attempting as best it can to be objective and critical. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">One of the best examples of this openness to me is in the Jewish History Museum. I came for a brief visit the last time I was here in 2013 and was so impressed that I suggested a second visit. It doesn’t disappoint. The museum itself doesn’t focus on a narrow Jewish experience but focuses on the history of Jews in Germany and religious cultural expression as a whole. The museum itself is designed to tell a story, beginning with several arms of experience. One for the Holocaust, one for exile, and a larger one for continuity that showcases the history of Judaism. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">As a Mormon, I feel a real kinship with the Jewish experience. There are so many things about Jewish culture that I admire and respect and sometimes even envy. One of my favorite exhibits this time around was a room discussing the reasons for and controversy behind religious clothing for women. I have conflicted feelings about this within my own church - discussions on modesty are almost universally directed toward women, no matter what religion you are. The restrictions of leadership and priesthood within the church are something I struggle with. That struggle is something that is not just a Mormon struggle - women of many faiths are trying to find a way to balance their belief with potential patriarchal system struggles. I related very much to this exhibit. I too am a woman of faith. I believe that I have found a religion that works for me, that brings me joy, that gives me fulfillment. I also believe that we have a long way to go in our understanding of the role women play within the church and I hope to see a better dialogue about those roles in the future.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The rest of our evening involved primarily an enormous amount of walking. We wandered down the Kudamm in search of dad’s old apartment from when he served here as a missionary. We ended up walking from there back to our hotel (much longer than anticipated), and my step count for the day was over 20,000 steps, so I felt no guilt whatsoever in eating an ice cream. I am exhausted.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: bold;">Jared’s Pun Glossary for 17 June: </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">“I Kantstrasse enough how happy I am to be here with you two. Glossary that shiz.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Dad: “It was the Hitler show.” Jared: “Was it a big hit?”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">“I fell in Loooouvre with Paris.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">(Re: the Jewish History Museum) “It doesn’t Holocaust that much. (Pause) Too soon?”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">(At the Jewish History Museum) “They sell Kosher gummy bears here. Is that kosher?” Me: “Weak.” Jared: “Well, what did Jew expect?!”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">At the picture of the pissour: “We don’t need another picture. That picture was definitely a number one</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-35917808882269624642017-06-16T13:15:00.003-06:002017-06-16T13:15:47.974-06:00Europe Trip Day 1: A train, a plane, and some automobiles<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 11pt;">Some of my first memories involve watching </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Sound of Music</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 11pt;">. I remember a light green pleated knit skirt I had that could pass for a sailor skirt and marching down the stairs in my house to the sounds of an imaginary whistle. I remember having a great (if imaginary) fondness for schnitzel with noodles (something I wouldn’t actually eat until I was in my 20s.) I remember wanting nothing more in the world than to be Gretl. (For some reason it was rarely Maria, it was Gretl.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I think some of this love came naturally as a result of the general charms of the film and its easily singable score, but a good portion of this love was passed down to me because of my father. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Dad served a mission for the LDS church in northern Germany in the early 1980s. (“But </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Sound of Music</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> is set in Austria!” you say. “I know,” I sigh. “But I was so young and they’re practically the same, right?”)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">(If you just felt the earth shake, it was probably my grandfather’s ashes turning over in his urn.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Regardless, my dad’s association with Germany and all German speaking countries along with the beauty of that movie made me really want to visit Europe from a young age. And a few years ago, I was lucky enough to do just that. With a few of my best friends, we took a boat down the Rhine, wandered around the Alps, drank the waters of heaven in Hallstatt, and explored Berlin. It was a dreamy trip, but in the back of my mind I’d always imagined that the perfect trip to Germany (or any other German speaking place) would have to be with my dad, the one who introduced me to it all in the first place. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Fast forward to November of 2016. Fresh off a dream trip to England and a second dream trip to Boston, I wasn’t anticipating any major trips in my future - or at least not the very near future. My love of travel is accompanied by a love for a healthy savings account and even with a decent stipend for taking on extra classes this last year, my plans for another European adventure were distant - maybe two or three summers away. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Then my brother got accepted to a study abroad in Portugal and asked if I’d tour around Europe with him afterward. And, well, it would be irresponsible not to, right? He couldn’t be left to wander amongst the jungfrauen all on his own! </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">To be clear, that’s not to say that Jared isn’t totally capable. He’s notorious in our family for wandering off somewhere only to have us find him in a panic while he asserts that he knew </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">exactly</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> where he was. This has happened in Arlington National Cemetery (we had the police hunting for him), Xel Ha (an outdoor water “park” in Mexico that’s really just a semi-lifeguarded jungle to swim in), and the first time I went to the temple with him (where I waited outside the dressing room for half an hour thinking he’d want help finding where he was going only to have him come down the stairs and ask if </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">I</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> needed help.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">No, no - Jared could totally manage Europe on his own. But SHOULD he? No way. When your sibling asks you to go to Europe, YOU GO TO EUROPE. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">We started planning. Initial plans were varied and grand with him wanting to see pretty much anything and me wanting to see places I hadn’t seen yet, we tentatively settled on a bit of time in England but with time concentrated on the Benelux and Germany. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">That’s when dad’s ears perked up. While we were planning over Christmas, pouring over guidebooks and websites and making lists of possibilities, dad’s creative wheels started to turn too, and by the end of the week, he decided that he wanted to come too. Once that piece of the puzzles was settled, the rest of the trip fell easily into place. Dad hasn’t been back to Berlin since his mission in the early 80s, when Western and Eastern Berlin were still a thing. We had to go back.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I think he felt a little guilty at first. I could be wrong (and since I’m guessing he’ll read this at some point, I’m sorry if I totally misrepresent you here!) but it seemed like he was worried about crashing the party or completely disrupting plans (with dad on board the Benelux became Germany/Austria/Switzerland), but truthfully, I was thrilled from the beginning. You see, I think I got my cultural fascination from my dad. That’s not to say mom didn’t contribute - sick days when I was a kid were cultural education days where mom introduced me to things like </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Sense and Sensibility</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> and </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">While You Were Sleeping </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">and </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Importance of Being Earnest</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">, but it was my father who first took me to see a big Broadway show (</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">Phantom of the Opera</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">) and who spent so much time traveling for work when I was young. I love my mother and I would </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">love</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;"> to go to Europe with her, but for some reason, I always thought of Germany as something I really wanted to do with my dad. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I just never thought the stars would align like this, and certainly not this fast after another trip only last year. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Even sitting in the airport yesterday I felt a bit like I do in theater when we haven’t done full hair and makeup yet and are only just getting fit for costumes. It still feels like pretend. I’d gone through all the motions of preparing for a trip but it felt so utterly bizarre to actually be </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">going</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">. Plus, 90% of the travel I’ve done in the last decade of my life has been with friends, not family. It didn’t fit the picture. I still don’t think it’s hit me. I see cars with drivers on the right side and do a double take. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Even if it hasn’t “hit me” that I’m here and this trip is a reality and </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">will </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">be a reality for the next few weeks, I can’t think of a better place to be to figure it out. One of the great side benefits of being a gainfully employed single woman is the chance to travel and I take as much advantage of that as I can.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">I wish I had a camera on the two of us last night, though. The seats on the plane were way more cramped than I remember and when </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">I </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">think something is cramped, it must be horrible for my dad. We each took an Ambien to try to sleep but I’m not wholly convinced they weren’t total placebos, or at least that they didn’t cause some sort of restless leg syndrome, because the two of us (ok, I’ll take most of the blame here) were kind of a tossing and turning mess all night. I vaguely remember dad pinning me down with my head on his lap in an attempt to calm me, and also vaguely remember him practically falling on top of me in that “nodding off” sleep way people have. If you, whomever you are, die before I do - ask to see the tape. I’m sure it’s a pretty fantastic dance. Maybe if we’re lucky someone taped it and we’ll go viral online.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">The rest of the day was mostly travel as well - jet lagged wandering through Heathrow, a long coach to the Stanstead airport, then a shuttle bus to our hotel. We’re only here for a bit since we’re headed off to Berlin tomorrow morning at what I will affectionately call the “butt crack of dawn”. As such, we got in, dropped our bags and went to get dinner (dad at McDonalds, which I thought was pretty funny after he watched </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic;">The Founder </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">on the plane. “That man is a schiester,” he said while eating his burger.) I went to a Marc's and Spenser fuel stop to grab a pre-made salad and some fruit (both of which were delicious.)</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 11pt;">Now it’s off to bed for this night owl. Dad is already asleep (he took an Ambien about five minutes ago and it seems to have worked better on him tonight than it did yesterday as he’s already snoring. Err. . . Definitely sleeping. May the Ambien Gods smile so kindly upon me. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-37926217853832434232017-04-02T23:41:00.000-06:002017-04-03T00:30:52.182-06:00I Believe<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="fveco" data-offset-key="fp2iq-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; letter-spacing: -0.24px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">My mom commented to me tonight that I'm a different person in conversation than I am online.</span><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: -0.24px;"> </span><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">"I get why", she said.</span><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: -0.24px;"> </span><span style="color: black; letter-spacing: -0.24px;">"You're commenting on things you want to change in the culture around you, but you're more moderate than your liberal online persona."</span></span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I suppose that is probably accurate in many respects. There are topics that I feel very passionate about and Facebook is a convenient way to comment on those topics. Things like the rights of women, the challenges in the world of education, and the wish for more tolerance and love for those on the fringes of my culture are things that, at least in the Mormon world, make me fairly liberal. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">But I do also want to make something pretty clear (in case it isn't): </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">I love the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am grateful to belong to a church that draws me closer to God and gives me so much hope for the future. I don't believe my church is perfect. Its processes are carried out by imperfect people with imperfect perspectives in an imperfect world. As a result, I have great sympathy for those who "wrestle with the angel" so to speak when it comes to the LDS faith. I find myself wrestling with that angel over doctrines and cultural traditions that I don't understand too. There are so many places where I long for greater knowledge or perspective or all out cultural shifting. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">For example: I wish that more women had spoken this weekend. I wish that members of the general boards of the Relief Society/Young Women/Primary had been on the stand during the Women's Session. I wish we had more knowledge and understanding of our Heavenly Mother and that she was spoken of more freely. I wish we would stop that blasted "chewed up gum" metaphor lesson, or the "cockroach in the ice cream" metaphor. I'd love to throw in more variety to our hymn book (can we please sing a nice spiritual sometime?) I still wonder why men don't serve in the Primary Presidencies, women don't serve in Sunday School Presidencies, Young Women don't do Visiting Teaching and don't serve as ward greeters. I wish we spoke more about how women use the power of the priesthood (since Elder Oaks clarified that we do, in fact, have that authority at least within the realm of our callings.) I'd love to see a cultural shift when it comes to gender roles in the home. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Etc. etc. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">The thing is, though, that even with this imperfection, I still believe that I am where I need to be, in a church that is right for me, and with a core doctrine that is beautiful. At its best, Mormonism is stunning to me. It is a message of love and service and forgiveness and purpose through and beyond this life that motivates me and fuels my desire to change the world. I accept that the church as it stands is imperfect, but I also believe that the atonement of Christ will cover even those imperfections and that things that hurt or cause pain now will be healed in the future. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">For example: I believe that we will receive greater understanding about the roles of women in the eternal plan, and that those roles will be invigorating and powerful and beautiful. I believe that the challenges facing LGBTQ members of the church will be addressed and that wounds will be healed more perfectly in the future. I believe that there is a place for all of God's children at the eternal dinner table (so to speak). I believe that people who say unkind things or exercise unrighteous dominion will grow and learn and that the atonement will heal those wounds too. I believe that someday, I will get answers to all my questions. I believe that the covenants I have made are sacred, that they help make me a better person. I believe that God has led me to a place where I make a difference in the world, where I am doing good. I believe that I have been protected, blessed, watched over through no accident or stroke of luck, but by the grace of loving Heavenly Parents.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">In the mean time, I have been given too many witnesses of the beauty that does exist in this imperfect institution to turn my back on it when storms of doubt or frustration or all out bitterness toward policy or people come my way. I believe what Elder Holland said this weekend - the church has need of every voice in the choir. Even when I struggle or battle with things I don't understand, I am determined to hold on to what I know, what I have felt, what I believe, and wait patiently on the answers that are still dark. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Finally, I know I have many friends here that are not Mormon, or are former members of the church, and in many ways antagonistic toward it. Please know that I love and respect your decisions. I need you and want you in my life. Your perspectives and friendships have shaped my life and made it so much more beautiful. Diversity of thought is a treasure to me, and the respectful discourse I have with so many of you is an enormous blessing. I love you.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">For those of you that are members of the church, I hope you were as inspired by conference this weekend as I was. Let's keep pushing that stone of friendship and love and tolerance as far and as wide as we can. Heaven knows this world we live in (both in and out of the church) could use an enormous dose of kindness just now.</span></span></div>
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</style>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-84415936205610477502017-01-24T14:58:00.002-07:002017-01-24T14:58:50.117-07:00I am a WomanIt's hard to distinguish between what is morally right and what is cultural tradition sometimes. I find this particularly true just now as I contemplate what it is to be a woman - both personally and collectively. Mostly I look around me in this world of marching and pussy hats and Facebook posts about the sanctity of motherhood and see so many sides that feel in conflict with one another about what a woman is, or what a woman should be. What I find so bizarre about all this is that I don't see the need for this conflict. It feels like both sides are pulling on false opposites. <br />
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All the same, it has me thinking - what does being a woman actually look like and feel like for me? This is in no way an attempt to universalize the female experience, but for me - being a woman looks and feels a bit like this:<br />
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1. It feels like pencil skirts and hot red lipstick. I have a mad obsession with fashion from the 30s-60s. I hate wearing heels most of the time (I teach.) but when I get the excuse, man I love the way I look. I'm a short, not terribly curvy girl, so the chance to show off my calves (that I am oddly proud of) is awesome. What the rest of my body lacks in curves my lips make up for in spades. I love the way I look in red lipstick. A lot. (I have a Lady Mary streak, ok?!)<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />2. It feels like a battleground. Against people who dismiss contrary emotion as PMS. Against those who seek to define how I define myself. Who, for example, assume I will quit my job to raise my family (that I don't currently and may never have.) Who assume that when I get married, I will move wherever my husband's job takes him and take his last name (because the possibility choosing not to marry/choosing to marry but not take a new last name is unfathomable.) Against those who take to the internet in vicious "mommy wars" and seek to define the "right" kind of mothering. Against media attention on the right kind of woman and wrong kind of woman. Against religious culture on the right kind of woman and wrong kind of woman. Against governments made up primarily of men who want to make laws dictating how women can or can't control their choices, especially when it comes to their own body. Against myself and my own doubts on where the line between feeling inspired about something and being an all out rebellious sinner begins and ends.<br />
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3. It feels like an adventure. I grew up surrounded by a myriad of amazing female role models. I had wonderful real women (my mom, my grandmothers, my aunts, a host of amazing teachers). I had fictional women and girls (Anne Shirley, the March sisters, Hermione Granger, Winnie Foster, Fern Arable, Heidi, Sara Crewe, Mary Lennox, Wendy Darling, Harriet Welsch) who were strong and creative and determined in a huge variety of ways. For my creative mind growing up, everything felt possible if I had enough nerve. I still feel that way. I've never felt limited in possibility by virtue of my gender. <br />
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4. It feels a little lost. Looking at government representation, church representation, Biblical representation and seeing so few examples of women in leadership. "But!" I hear. "The woman is most powerful in the home! That is where she belongs!" "But!" The other side screams. "What if that home is like mine? What if it has no children? No spouse? What if it has those things and the woman has great talents and gifts to share?" It feels tugged in frustrating directions and obligations. It feels confused about what is culture and what is doctrine. (Is a woman's place in the home because Puritan tradition has always said that to be so, or because that is what God wants? Because if that's what God wants, I'm definitely not interested in spending eternity in a maternity ward, any more than I'm interested in sitting around playing the harp forever. And if I'm not happy with that vision of eternity, is that because I'm sinful and can't see the truth and beauty of that existence, or because the vision and culture that suggest it are flawed?) It is full of questions about what I want and what God wants for me and how to somehow combine those forces for good. Somewhere in of all this mess of confusion is an example of womanhood I can strive to reach for. Somewhere there is a vision of the divine that is pure and can encompass the wide variety of desires, interests, and abilities that are inherent in our individual worth. God help me find it.<br />
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5. It feels like compassion. It feels like sleeping with my kitty purring while she sprawls over my legs and being so grateful that she's warm and fed and cared for, not trying to find food and shelter outside. It feels like smelling the top of a baby's head. It feels like seeing women, men, children who <i>have</i> felt limited by their gender or race or social status or sexual orientation and reaching to help them as best I can. Tradition has not always been kind to women, and to those who have fought and are fighting to extend basic human rights to women - my heart is full of gratitude and admiration. Tradition has not always been kind to minorities of so many varieties, but the internet makes it easier, so much easier, for people to have a voice. Being a woman to me means a duty to listen, to feel, to ask that question "what would this be like" before I clam up with "I've never felt like that."<br />
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6. It feels like hard work. Because while I have not felt harmfully limited by my gender, so many around the world have. Women who are told what to wear and when to wear and how to wear their clothing (or face not just social pressures but political retaliation.) Women who face genital mutilation, rape, inadequate access to feminine hygiene products. Women forced into marriages they don't want and sex they don't want and children they don't want. It feels like a long way to go to help my sisters feel not just safe, but wanted.<br />
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7. It is an honor. There are many elements of being a woman that are hard, are uncomfortable, are painful, are frustrating. But there are many, so many, that I find beautiful and inspiring and full of opportunity. I find this time in which I live so empowering. Unlike so many of the women who have come before me, who have fought so hard for rights that I now enjoy, I live in a time where I can make a difference. I am allowed to live on my own, to buy a house and car and vote without permission from a spouse. I am allowed to attend universities and have received a great education at one of the best universities in the country. I can travel the world unchaperoned. If I marry, I will not have to quit my job by virtue of being married. I can obtain safe and affordable medical care by good doctors. I can use my voice and my influence to encourage change and better representation. And because of these amazing luxuries, It is my honor, my great privilege, to speak up and act on behalf of those who do <i>not</i> yet enjoy these rights either in whole or in part.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-66735949505514604052016-10-14T21:07:00.001-06:002016-10-14T21:07:36.809-06:00Coastal TourI have never lived close to water. For most of my life I've been in a desert where closest bodies of water are small, often man-made reservoirs. Growing up I lived near some lakes and rivers, but none worth swimming in and none close enough to enjoy on a regular basis. Driving along the New England coastline today put another dent in my "thou shalt not covet" armor - how glorious to live by the sea! I don't enjoy crowded beaches and surf culture, but I do enjoy the steady roll of the waves and quiet walks along the coast. There is a kind of soul centering that happens with such a vast landscape. I would love to live in Maine. The exchange for bitter cold winters would be worth it. I can handle cold.<br />
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I don't know what it is exactly about Maine that has always attracted me but I've wanted to visit for as long as I can remember and it did not disappoint. It was every bit as charming and beautiful as you would want it to be. Next time I come to New England, I'll need to plan much more time there. Our original plan was to visit a city called Wiscasset, but we ended up going to Ogunquit at the recommendation of our Uber driver (Ali) from earlier in the week. Ogunquit means "beautiful place by the sea" and it is that. It has long been frequented by artists because of its stunning topography - I feel like we only scratched the surface of what the town had to offer. The town was voted as the best small coastal town in America in USA Today this year - it's easy to see why. The town has an active arts scene with an art museum and active repertory theater. They also have the "Marginal Way", a twelve mile coastal walk along the length of the town. We only went a fraction of the way the path offered since we still wanted to visit Salem, but walking the whole thing is on my bucket list now. What we did see was beautiful.<br />
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One thing I love to find when I travel is local art to take home. I have a wall in my upstairs hallway where I feature art from everywhere I travel. Today I found the addition for this trip (in the nick of time!). It's a watercolor of the area in a repurposed barn wood frame by a local artist and I am thrilled. I'm also glad I found no more books. Six. How did I find six books to take home?! What is wrong with me?!!! My poor suitcase.<br />
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Before going to Salem, we made a brief stop at the Nubble Lighthouse in York, Maine. There's another thing I'd love to do - a lighthouse hunt along the coast. This lighthouse is, mercifully, wading distance to the mainland, so the keeper wouldn't have had to live too far from civilization, and in exchange, he'd have the best view in town. Sounds like a pretty good deal, even if the exchange involved a lot of work. Given the number of houses we drove by en route to said lighthouse that were, I'm sure, well over six figures to purchase, the work to keep the lighthouse up sounds like a fantastic trade off. <br />
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Salem hasn't ever been terribly high on my list of places to see but, given that we are here in October, it seemed like a foolish thing to miss. For anyone who really loves Halloween, Salem would be an absolute must. Halloween is a month long celebration here. A massive carnival down town, costumes everywhere, even a black cat graced us with its presence while driving around. It was an absolute circus of cars. Salem looks like a nice enough city to live in but it would be miserable in October. Those small New England streets just aren't meant to host that kind of insane traffic.<br />
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We managed to escape the heavy crowds by staying away from all things witch related and heading instead to the historic "House of Seven Gables" which, despite my lack of love for Nathaniel Hawthorne, turned out to be a rather interesting tour. The Turner family who owned the house made their extreme wealth in shipping. Although the wealth of the home didn't seem like much compared to the homes we saw yesterday in Newport, given a few hundred years of time, the Turners would have been able to compete financially with the Vanderbilts; they just didn't have the technological capability to do so. All the same, the house was impressive and beautiful. It was a unique tour since it told essentially three stories: the Turners, the Ingersolls, and the fictional one featured in Hawthorne's novel. Actually, much of the house was re-purposed once a woman named Caroline Emmerton owned the house in the early 1900s so that tourists visiting the home would see places referenced in the book (including a claustrophobia inducing secret passageway that was really up a chimney). The tour didn't make me want to read Hawthorne, but it was still interesting and worth the time. <br />
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There is something really magical about New England. So much of what has shaped our entire country has come from this little hive of history and philosophy and art. You can see the weight of that feeling still permeating through the streets. There are political signs everywhere, more than I ever saw even in Iowa during election season. The small book store scene is alive and well, and nearly every bookstore I went in (and I went into basically every one I saw) was busy. We saw more antique stores than Starbucks'. Even with the tourist draw, there is a definite charm that has not been lost or sacrificed among those that live here. Even the drivers are polite - everyone gives way to pedestrians (it's the law, but still), and cars diligently take turns and wait for others to go first. There may be a reputation of stubbornness but there is a reality of kindness that I am so impressed by. <br />
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I think what I have loved most about this trip is that it's given me new places to love. The more I explore the world, the more of the world I get to love. I've been able to love the museums of Paris and the mountains of Scotland. The bustling streets of Dublin and the West End of London. The childhood reminiscing in Disneyland, the sheep chasing in the Lake District. The awe inspiring beauty of the Alps, Salem Harbor, and Prince Edward Island. I've walked the busy city streets of Victoria and figured out public transportation in Boston and Berlin. My passport has taken me to Mexico twice, Canada once, and Europe four times in the last decade. What a gift it is to travel. There are some things about being single that kind of suck, but the chance to travel the world is NOT one of them. <br />
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New England - you have been perfect. I can't wait to come explore more of you.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-27753044255631196202016-10-13T19:41:00.002-06:002016-10-13T19:41:33.483-06:00Newport MansionsThe term "Gilded Age" was coined by Mark Twain, and it was not a compliment. He used it to refer to what could essentially be called slapping lipstick on a pig - the tendency by the people in the era to want to be as elaborate as they possibly could. And boy could they. <br />
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If you look at a list of the wealthiest people in history, most lists will include at least five men from the Gilded Age in the top ten. The era lasted from roughly the end of the American Civil War and lasted through the turn of the century and refers to the incredible wealth of men like Ford, Carnegie, Rockefeller, and Vanderbilt who came into their money because of overwhelming business success. Unlike men in Europe who were scrambling to hold onto wealth that was slipping through their fingertips as the Industrial Revolution took off, men in America were rolling in more money than they knew what to do with, and when you had more money than you knew what to do with, you built a home in Newport, Rhode Island.<br />
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Newport is full of mansions owned by the well-to-do of the day, and these little Versailles were especially interesting to visit after seeing the inherited wealth of England all summer. Unlike the estate homes in England which were full of relics passed down through the centuries from family to family, these homes are full of extravagance that was the product of a few years of work. These were homes designed to look old. Sometimes they would have the old shipped in - one home we saw had a five hundred year old French fireplace shipped over from Europe - but for the most part, these homes are, like Versailles, designed to show off wealth. They lived short familial home lives, though - few of them are lived in now - only two or three generations of these families have been able to really experience the grandeur of such living. (Again, unlike the British counterparts, where many of these grand homes are still, at least in part, family homes.)<br />
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We started the day in Marble House, so named because it's got an insane amount of marble on all the walls and floors. There was marble in colors I didn't know marble even came in. Not all the marble was real - upstairs some of the walls are painted to look like marble, but that was really only because the family wanted the house open in time for "the season" (the summer) and the house wasn't done being constructed yet - it was just faster to get the painting done rather than wait for more stone. <br />
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As far as history goes, this house is best known as being home to Consuelo Vanderbilt, who would go on to marry the Duke of Marlborough (best known to Americans as the uncle of Winston Churchill and ancestor of Lady Diana). It was not a happy marriage for either party - both Consuelo and the Duke had other people in mind that they would rather have been with, but both had familial obligations to fulfill: the Duke needed to marry someone who could afford to pay for the upkeep of Blenheim Palace (she could, and famously added indoor plumbing to the place), and she needed to marry someone with a title (the fashionable thing for a socialite to do). Consuelo was extremely beautiful (J.M. Barrie is said to have waited for hours just to see her get into her carriage) and talented, her artistic taste is all over Blenheim Palace and much of her story (and stories of other women like her) inspired the stories of <i>Downton Abbey</i>.<br />
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Marble House is an homage to the last Kings of France. All through the house are tributes to Louis XIV and his grandson, Louis XVI (he of "married to Marie Antoinette" fame). As in Versailles, Louis XIV is everywhere in the house - his bust greets you when you come up the main staircase, his figure features above the main mirror in the gold room off the main hall (and on the ceiling, where he vomits up light fixtures).<br />
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Marble House may have been one level of ornate, but The Breakers were insane. There's a reason houses like that one are often used to represent Jay Gatsby. The Breakers (so named for its proximity to the ocean) is really the second house built on the property - the first mysteriously burned down. As a result, the new home is built with no wooden structural pieces at all and the broiler is kept far away from the main structure of the house. It was owned by Cornelius Vanderbilt - the center of the Newport social scene. The mansion contains seventy rooms and many technological innovations that Europeans could only have dreamed of under similar living conditions - electricity for one, running water for another. There were buttons on the walls that could be used to call specific places around the house (similar to an intercom system) and enough bathrooms for everyone to enjoy a hot bath whenever they wanted.<br />
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That kind of wealth is just unfathomable to me. One Vanderbilt described such inherited wealth as being as dangerous as cocaine. Another talked about how horrified she was when she found out about her status as an heiress; she was worried no one would love her for anything other than her money. I think, when it comes down to it, I feel like Anne Shirley when she visits the city for the first time - that she'd like the chance to live in wealth for a while, but that ultimately she'd like the sound of the brook behind her house more than the sound of tinkling china. Having enough money to not have to worry about money - that's all I want.<br />
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We spent so much time wandering the houses that we completely forgot about lunch - plus we got off to a bit of a late start, partly because we slept in, partly because mom dropped her phone in the toilet, partly because mom also lost her ticket to the mansions somewhere on the walk from the car (her back pocket was cursed today), so we went straight to dinner after we were done with The Breakers. We went to a restaurant on the waterfront as recommended by a travel website I found called "The Mooring" and it was utterly divine. Rick Steves says that coming home with the most money is not the goal of travel - coming home with the most experience is, and sometimes the best way to get that experience is through freakishly awesome food. I got fresh sole (fish) topped with a crab cake and arugula, along with some golden Yukon potatoes. If I'm ever asked what I want my last meal to be. . . I think that's what I want. It was divine.<br />
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In general, exploring Newport was utterly delightful. Every time I travel I discover a city that I wish I could stay in for much longer - this time I've discovered two - Newport and Concord. I haven't had nearly enough time in either place. I think tomorrow will probably not make things better as we are off to Maine for our last full day before heading home. It's been dreamy.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-70399929407695757602016-10-12T21:21:00.000-06:002016-10-13T07:10:40.429-06:00TranscendenceI love the Transcendentalists. They may not have achieved everything they wanted to while they were living, but their ideals really were ahead of their time and I am grateful for them. Even in high school I knew that they understood things that I needed to understand. Their writing is often wordy and intense, but the payoff is nearly always worth it. <br />
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The center of Transcendentalist fervor is Concord, Massachusetts. (Embarrassing personal disclosure: I only TODAY put together that the Concord of Louisa May Alcott and the Concord of Lexington and Concord fame are the same place. For all my brainpower and love of trivia and history, sometimes stupid things still fly way above my head and come crashing down with a thud that sounds a lot like a "duh".) In Concord, the Transcendentalists attempted to form communities where people lived simply and with unity. Nearly one hundred years before suffrage they pushed for the vote. More than one hundred and fifty years before schools would integrate in the south, Bronson Alcott was founding schools where not only boys and girls learned alongside each other, but children of all races were taught. They were educated in art and music - they had recess. Their ideas were so radical that they never came into fashion, but their writing lives on, and thank heaven for that.<br />
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It is fitting that on a day when we paid homage to these great thinkers that we began with no water. The apartment below ours is being completely remodeled and they turned the water off this morning. We realized this before we got the chance to eat breakfast, but it definitely helped us get out of the house faster than we have done in the last few days. The construction workers downstairs are really friendly, though - asking us what we've been up to on our visit and recommending good restaurants. <br />
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Our first stop for the day (after picking up our rental car) was Orchard House. Orchard House is the best known home of the Alcott family, though they moved at least twenty times prior to settling here. Bronson Alcott, the patriarch, was quite the idealist. He was constantly seen as a radical for his ideas about education (he promoted children asking questions in class!), women, slavery, and other things that are now way less radical and way more normal (like the vegan diet). His wife, Abby May, was born to a relatively well-to-do family that looked down on her marriage to Bronson, but she said that her soul was lonely until she met him, so apparently she didn't see it as a step down in her life. The two had four children - all daughters: Anna, Louisa, Elizabeth, and May. Best known of these is, of course, Louisa - author of <i>Little Women</i> (as well as thirty other novels).<br />
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It's hard to separate the real life Alcotts from the fictional March family. Louisa was encouraged to write from her life, and much of the book is the very definition of art imitating life. Like Jo, Louisa felt out of place in the world. She loved to run. She loved to write. She was a thinker and a voracious reader tutored at the feet of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who loaned her books and thought nothing of the fact that she was a girl who had no business reading Faust when she should be focusing her attention on needlepoint. The Transcendentalists may not have been able to change the entire city, but the principles were alive and well in the Alcott house - quite literally. May, the youngest Alcott, became Amy in the book - like her fictional counterpart, May was a great artist, who drew over any surface in the house she could find (with or without permission). She was an amazing artist, lucky enough to study in Europe several times (twice with the help of Louisa's financial support after the success of her writing). The house is full of her work - nearly every piece on the walls came from her. Framed or unframed (she had a tendency to draw directly on the walls), she was encouraged by her parents. May would go on to tutor Daniel Chester French, the sculptor best known for his design of the Lincoln statue at the Lincoln Memorial in DC. She even named her daughter Louisa in honor of her sister.<br />
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There is something so special about the Alcotts. Their family unity and love is palpable in their home, in their writings, in their legacy. There are signs everywhere of a family that cared for each other. May painted flowers on the walls of Louisa's room when she came home ill after working in a Civil War hospital. Bronson build Louisa a custom desk on which she wrote her books and through which he demonstrated his support of his unconventional daughter. Anna was married in the parlor. Elizabeth never lived in the house (she died as a result of scarlet fever before the family moved in), but there is a portrait of her above a piano in her honor. One of the most special - dare I say sacred - experiences of my life was portraying Beth in the Little Women Musical several years ago. There is an extremely special spirit about this family, and being allowed to step into their fictional shoes every night was an incredible experience. I am so grateful for this story, and for this family, for the beauty they have given to the world. I feel a great kinship to these amazing people.<br />
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After a stop at the Concord Museum, we went over to Walden Pond. Walden was a beloved spot of all the Transcendentalists - Louisa features it in <i>Little Women</i> as the pond where Amy nearly drowns - but it is probably best known because of the writings of Henry David Thoreau. Thoreau (pronounced less like "Thur-oh" and more like "Thor-oh" with emphasis on the first syllable - at least according to Thoreau himself and the local experts) once "went to the woods because (he) wanted to live deliberately". He moved to Walden, built himself a modest home (that no longer stands, though the location is set off), and lived as simply as he could. It's hard to imagine a more beautiful place to do so. Walden itself is a peaceful, quiet location surrounded by trees. Even with lots of visitors, it was peaceful and quiet. I picked up a bunch of acorns to bring back home with me - one of the "houses" in my classes at school was named for Emerson - the symbols are an oak leaf and acorn in honor of the Transcendentalist belief that everyone has potential. <br />
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Our final stop was the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, the burying ground of the local authors of significance, including Nathaniel Hawthorne (I hate <i>The Scarlet Letter</i>. . . ), the Alcott family, Emerson and his family, and Thoreau's family. It's not uncommon to see tributes on the headstones of people of significance. Earlier this week we saw coins left on the monument to Robert Newman (who helped warn that "the British (were) coming!") Rocks are often left as a tribute as well. Fittingly, there are pens left by the headstones of Thoreau and Alcott. (I'm sure there would be for Hawthorne and Emerson as well, if they weren't roped off.) My heart is full.<br />
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There are so many people in history that I can't wait to see and to thank for the work they've done in the world or for me personally. Lucy Maud Montgomery. C.S. Lewis. John Adams, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln - every single transcendentalist. They reach my soul. They give me hope in myself and my potential to do good beyond what I can see. They may not have found wild success as a community in their lifetime, but they've made their mark. Today I'm glad to have wandered through their footsteps.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-74679032730975627502016-10-11T19:01:00.001-06:002016-10-11T19:01:58.329-06:00Second Verse, Same as the First (aka: more pastry, more book, more chocolate.)When I was in high school I had a shirt that I bought from Old Navy that said "Cambridge" on it. I bought it because of England, but I had my history teacher come to me one day and say "want to go to Harvard, huh?" I seem to remember laughing. Yeah. Right. I'm no moron, but I never would have gotten into Harvard.<br />
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After visiting Cambridge for real today, I don't necessarily regret that I didn't go to Harvard (the city is crazy expensive, the school is crazy expensive, everything is crowded, the school is constantly crowded with tourists. . . But man it's beautiful. BYU has many virtues and I don't regret my education there at all, but man there are some ugly buildings on that campus. Basically any building constructed while the school was expanding in the 70s is horrific. More recent builds have a classic collegiate look that I like, but you really can't beat the atmosphere of Cambridge, even with all the tourists and the traffic. I love being on college campuses just in general - I swear if college paid well then I'd never leave it.<br />
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We didn't take an official campus tour so I'm not sure that I have any great Harvard trivia to give that didn't come from what I'm sure is an inaccurate episode of Gilmore Girls, but I do know that there are 73 libraries on campus and that the Harvard collection of books is the third largest in the nation, behind the Library of Congress and the Boston Public Library. The centerpiece of the collection is the Widener Library, which holds 3.5 million books and is named for a Harvard grad who died on the Titanic in 1907 and was a book collector. Only students are allowed to go into the school, which is understandable but ticks me off because there is little I love more in this world than beautiful libraries.<br />
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Fortunately, Harvard has plenty of bookstores and although my suitcase has no room in it for more books I will find a way because I now have two more books to add to my collection - some short novellas by Alan Bennett and a memoir where a woman wrote about what was going on in her life on the same day every year for forty years - 1960 to 2000. She lived behind the Iron Curtain for at least half the book and I think it's going to be fascinating. My poor "to-read" shelves are screaming at me to pace myself but a house isn't really a home if it doesn't have a fantastic library, right?<br />
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We spent most of the morning just wandering the city but eventually made our way over to the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow house, which was. . .closed. The exterior was really pretty, though? We got to look at the gardens around the house and watch the squirrels for a bit. Then we walked around for a bit and stopped for some more pastries (Mike's Pastry Shop has a branch near Harvard that has way less crowd issues than the one in Boston) and at a local chocolate shop. Now that I think about it, today was basically a repeat of yesterday: book stores, chocolate, pastries, and wandering through historical sites for a while. We're either predictable or easy to please, I guess. Neither of us feel disappointed, so that's good.<br />
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Finding the Longfellow House closed we decided to leave Cambridge and go instead to the Gardner Museum in Boston, but that was closed as well (we found that out before we left, at least) so we went instead to visit the USS Constitution. The USS Constitution was named by George Washington and is the oldest floating warship in the world. She saw most of her action in the War of 1812 where it earned the nickname "Old Ironsides" against a ship that looks like it was named after cheese (seriously - the HMS Gueirrere). Its performance in the war saved it from being scrapped dozens of times, and the Constitution went on to be a training ship during the Civil War and a museum exhibition that sailed to the Paris Exposition in 1878. There's not all that much left of her to see at the moment (though I think that may be more because of the renovation work they were doing on her when we were there) but it was still worth the trip. It's impressive that she's still afloat. <br />
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By this point we'd walked about seven miles, so we were hungry. We went back to what our guidebook calls the "drenched in marinara" north end of Boston for some Italian. The guidebook wasn't joking - the street we went to had nothing but Italian food options, all of which looked and smelled amazing. We found one that looked good, and it was good, and all was well.<br />
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Some other random observations:<br />
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Traveling with my mom is awesome. We're both relatively easy going travelers. We have opinions on what we want to do, but are flexible enough to bend to what the other person wants. It's been delightful.<br />
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Political campaigning is much more active here than it is in Utah. I think some of this may be because we're not just seeing adds for Presidential campaigns or local propositions, but also adds for Congressmen from Massachusetts and surrounding states. One of the local propositions is ticking me off because the locals are voting on charter school funding. Public schools are losing money because of charter schools! The anti Prop 2 adds say. NO THEY DON'T I yell at the TV. Schools get money for the students they teach, so the funding they're "losing" is really only representative of students they aren't actually teaching. Heaven FORBID we give people a choice in their education. "But those schools might be horrible!" people argue. "Yes," I respond. "They could be. But a traditional public school doesn't automatically mean the school is good and. . .<br />
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I could go on about this forever, but now probably isn't the time or place given that I'm supposed to be writing about my trip, but it's my blog so what the hell: American education is still holding on with a vice grip to traditions established more than a hundred years ago that weren't founded on principles of what actually taught skills the best but what was the most efficient and logical. The rest of the world is moving at lightning speed to adapt and change to the technologically obsessed and creative world we live in, but schools are still trying to fight against all of that like it will leave and pass like a fad. For the love of all that is holy, LET PEOPLE INNOVATE.<br />
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I'm done. <br />
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Tomorrow I will center my chi by visiting the hallowed forests of transcendentalism. I can't wait.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-15294846714338849152016-10-10T18:34:00.003-06:002016-10-10T18:34:52.471-06:00The Freedom TrailFor the record, I'm pretty sure there are chirping smoke alarms in hell. All last night, one of the alarms in the hall outside our apartment beeped. This morning, the other one started. Whomever invented those blasted things is the worst. We have phones we can unlock with our fingerprints or our eyeballs, certainly we can come up with a better way to alert someone that the batteries need to be changed. <br />
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Aside from chirping alarms, staying in this sleepy little neighborhood has been so fun. My favorite part about staying with Airbnb is the chance you get to stay outside of tourist centers. We may spend a good part of our days playing tourist, but we get the chance to escape the busy city and enjoy the relative normalcy of suburban life. I love it. <br />
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Today we started on the north part of town and hit up a few features on the Freedom Trail. If you haven't been to Boston (or studied the American Revolution), then you ought to review the story of Boston. Without this intensely stubborn city, the Revolution would never have happened. Boston was the center of industry and shipping for the English at the time - all the taxes, all the regulations, all the rules hit Boston harder than anywhere else. It was a city founded on the backs of principled and educated men and women who eloquently and firmly fought for their ideals and managed to convince more reluctant colonies (I'm looking at you, South Carolina) that sticking with England was detrimental to the prosperity of the locals. All my love of England aside - I do think that America becoming free from Britain was the right choice. I am grateful for my forefathers and New England ancestry for the sacrifices they made to ensure the prosperity of this country.<br />
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The Freedom Trail, then, takes you to some of the more important Colonial locations. We started by visiting the Copp's Hill Burial Ground, where some of the earliest Puritan settlers were buried. Some of the highlights include Captain Robert Newman - one of the men who helped light the lanterns and hang them to warn the American Militia that the British were coming (by sea, as it turned out). The other grave that I found particularly interesting was an obelisk in honor of the first black Master Mason in the all-black Free Mason lodge in early Boston. <br />
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From there we went down the hill to the Old North Church, made famous because of is role in being the location from which Captain Newman (and his companion whose name I can't remember) lit the lanterns to signal the coming British attack, which led to what was essentially the first shots fired in the Revolutionary War. The church itself is significant enough to have been visited and frequented by many important people throughout history. The pew we sat in, for example, was once used by Teddy Roosevelt.<br />
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Just behind the Old North Church is a chocolate shop. We had to stop. The smell alone was divine. We walked over the "Don't Tread on Me" rug (seriously?) and some salted caramels and a cashew turtle later (mom can never resist those), we went for some more dessert at the famous Mikes Pastries store. We got there just before the rush (the store was full when we got there, the line was down the block when we left), and it was totally worth it. We each got a croissant and have a cannoli and a macaroon waiting for us when we want more dessert. Given that we walked about five miles today, I'm not feeling bad at all about that. Even if I hadn't walked five miles today, I wouldn't feel bad. I thank God every day for carbs.<br />
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Paul Revere's house was next. I had no idea that Paul Revere ever did anything of significance in his life other than ride a horse, but he was a bit of a Renaissance Man. I found out that his work in dentistry led to early forensic techniques. He had sixteen children, eleven of which survived to adulthood. It was fun to learn more about him today.<br />
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After Paul Revere's House we made our way to Faneuil Hall and the Quincey Market. We ended up eating lunch in the "Cheers" restaurant, which meant little to either of us since mom and I have never seen the show, but the Clam Chowder was delicious, so that's good. <br />
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The Brattle Bookshop was a must. Frankly, any bookshop is a must. This one was particularly awesome, with a huge selection of books outside and a decent selection inside as well. I probably could have stayed for hours, but I limited myself in respect of my company and my budget, and came out with three awesome books, two of which were printed prior to the first world war. (Ironically, they were the cheapest books.) A collection of poetry by Tennyson, essays by Emerson, and Faust. I love beautiful books. I don't know how in the world I'm going to get them home in my tiny little suitcase, but I've been training my entire life for creative packing of books.<br />
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We wandered through the main parks in central Boston for a while after the bookshop. The parks were smaller than I imagined them to be - the parks and gardens in London are so big that you can forget you're in the city - but they were well worth the trip, if only for the chance to do some squirrel watching. There were so many of them. Living in Utah you rarely see squirrels. I forget about that until I see them again and realize how much I miss them. These squirrels are so used to people feeding them that they come right over to you and look for the food in your hands if you crouch down. Man I love those little rodents. <br />
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So far I haver really enjoyed the chance to wander this city. Boston reminds me of so many other cities I've been to. Seeing Pret restaurants reminds me of London. The mix of history and modern structures reminds me of Berlin. The squirrels and the smell of fallen leaves remind me of Iowa and being a kid again. It's been lovely.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-90112012104317162772016-10-09T20:02:00.000-06:002016-10-09T20:05:02.096-06:00Rainy Day in the Windy CityNothing today has really gone according to plan. For example - about ten seconds ago, the post I'd spent the last two hours working on (while watching <i>Bringing Up Baby</i>, I wasn't totally focussed) disappeared completely. No idea where it went. The app I used to compose the thing is now in the garbage can of my iPad and I'm back to composing the old fashioned way. This post will probably be shorter and more sarcastic (if such a thing is possible. . .)<br />
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As I mentioned yesterday, we started off today by going to church. Or, rather, we attempted to. The address I found on lds.org took us who knows where. As it was, we did get a rather fascinating conversation with our Uber driver, a man named Ali who was born in Iraq but came to the US via a Saudi Arabian refugee camp. His life story was amazing - his determination to make the best of situations, the way he has been able to build his life from $350 a month to a solid accounting job at Boston University (and into a car that's <i>way</i> nicer than mine). He spoke about the way he believes that our spirits are drawn to different places and people, how he picked our trip because, while he wouldn't normally go this way, it felt like the right thing. I'm glad he did. <br />
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The whole drive reminded me of what a charmed life I've led - to have lived forever in cities where I could have the run of the neighborhood on my bike. I remember riding my bike a mile away to the grocery store to go pick up donuts - or walking a few miles to school back when I was in elementary school. I've had opportunity and grown up in a relatively just world. It's easy to take that for granted and to sit on your laurels when so much of the world is in great need. I don't know what the solution to that problem is - the imperialist solution that came about in the early 1900s is less than ideal, but dropping off food and supplies and running away seems heartless. For the time being, I'm going to use my vote to support those who want to help bring refugees into the country to make better lives for themselves. The process of getting into our country as a refugee is so complicated and difficult that I don't think there is any need to latch onto the fear that so many want to spread about those coming into the United States. And you know what? If someone did come into our country that did want to do harm, then fine. Given everything else that's going on right now, they'd have to get in line with everyone else who is already doing harm. That shouldn't stop us from doing good, especially to those who are asking for it. <br />
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We ended up napping instead of going to church before heading back out into the rain to the Museum of Fine Art. Mom spent most of the ride there talking religion with our Uber driver, which I found pretty impressive because small talk is <i>not</i> my strong suit, but my mom has a fantastic way of sharing her thoughts without coming off as either pushy or weak. She's a marvel.<br />
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The MFA is fantastic. We had a great time wandering the different exhibits, particularly the American and European exhibits. The quality of light and color in the impressionist paintings was particularly impressive to me. Something about seeing such exquisite creation reminds me of the great potential humans have. I also enjoyed a hallway that paralleled the cultural, political, and religious development in London and a city in China. Museums that are well organized remind me of how much we have in common, and the beauty of what makes us different.<br />
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The Contemporary exhibit was unique - I have to remind myself in contemporary exhibits that it's a bit like wandering into the new fiction section of a bookstore - no one has any idea, yet, what books that have been published will have any kind of staying power in the long run so the whole area is pretty hit and miss. Today there was a podium with speeches on it that you could read from as a commentary on the effect that a speaker has on the power of words (no one took the artist up on the challenge while we were there but the idea was cool). In the same room there was a video of what appeared to be a woman eating something from her breast with a spoon. I didn't get close enough to that one to figure out what the heck it was supposed to mean. Also, ew.<br />
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We stayed at the museum until just before it closed, then walked through the rain to the T to catch a train home. After years and years of public transportation exploring all around the world, I think I can comfortably tell you that I have seen a more interesting variety of personalities on trains in Boston in the last day than I have in all the other places I've been, with the possible exception of that drunken train ride we took in Germany a few years ago (we weren't drunk, the football fans were.)<br />
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We decided to catch a cab back home instead of walking the rest of the way in the rain - the cab we caught may not have actually been a cab. . .but the driver got us where we needed to go so. . . No harm no foul? Yay for adventures! Not everything went as planned, but the day has still been delightful. Tomorrow we head into old Boston in search of pastries, books, and history.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-19799896171982857012016-10-08T20:02:00.003-06:002016-10-08T20:41:03.120-06:00Off to Massachusetts When I was on my way home from England, I texted my mom (as you do) to let her know I was alright and back on US soil. We talked about the trip and how amazing it had all been, how she'd enjoyed reading my blog updates, our own rudimentary plans to go back to Prince Edward Island, Canada later in the year (a trip inspired by my own desire to just go somewhere even if it meant going by myself, and dad encouraging mom to go with me - we've both had pretty insane years.) I think, though, that my trip had struck a chord with my mom, and by the time the train pulled into the station in Provo, our trip to PEI (an amazing place, but one we've both been to) had morphed into a trip to Boston - a city that would allow us a great mix of high culture and easy access to small town charm. <br />
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Little did I know that this week would come at a rather inconvenient time. It's been an intensely difficult school year so far, and it's about to get crazier with the addition of about eighty more students on my roster the Monday after I get back. I haven't had any time to really think about the trip at all or get excited about it. Honestly, I've felt rather guilty leaving when there's so much to do. Fortunately for me, I have a saint of a co-teacher at home who is earning some serious heaven points for covering for me while I'm gone. I owe him big.<br />
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The last time I was in the North East wasn't really all that far north. When I was in high school my family road-tripped to Washington DC. It was an amazing trip and my first real taste of a big city. I experienced a lot of firsts on that trip - my first time regularly "commuting" on public transport. My first encounter with a drunken passenger on said public transportation. My first time actually visiting a place I'd studied in school. Otherwise, although I've always been drawn to the North East (I grew up in the <i>Gilmore Girls</i> generation after all), I've never been there. And what better time to go than in the fall? When the North East is North Eastiest? And with my Marmee?<br />
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Day one was mostly travel for the both of us. My plane took off from the gate just next to the one I left from for England this summer. I could see the ghost of Joni past a few feet away and felt a little envious of her, because ENGLAND, but England will still be there next time I get there, and the shorter flight to Boston sounded way more appealing. Who wouldn't want to go to Boston in the fall?<br />
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For all my love of England, I have a great feeling of kinship to John Adams. Adams lived just outside of Boston in the city of Braintree. There is so much of his story I relate to - his open and obvious flaws but eternal desire to make things better for the world around him. He was passionate in the cause of justice. Of particular note was his defense of the British officers in the Boston Massacre. He was not particularly popular for this defense, but he was firm in his desire to establish America as a colony of civilization and equality. I admire his unwearying desire to follow his heart. <br />
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Then, of course, there are the Transcendentalists. My fascination began with, who else, but Louisa May Alcott. I am probably best known for my <i>Anne of Green Gables</i> or <i>Harry Potter</i> love, but I was every bit the <i>Little Women</i> obsessor as a child. I had the movie memorized. I related more to Anne - the tom-boyishness nature of Jo didn't appeal to me quite as much as a child - but I saw something of myself in Jo's somewhat bossy bookish and socially awkward nature. The older I get, though, the farther away Anne feels from me. She spent most of her (fictional) adulthood engaged or married to the dreamboat of Gilbert. Jo, though - Jo struggles as an adult. The life that had been so comfortable within the walls of her own home is more difficult when she leaves it. Finding her place in the world is tricky in a world that prescribes only one really acceptable path for a woman to follow. Her independent spirit and unconventional path are close to me. One of the dearest summers in my life was spent walking in the shoes of the fictional March family and studying the very real Alcotts on stage. The symbolism of visiting PEI when I was a wide-eyed almost college Freshman compared to visiting Concord as a perpetually boyfriendless nearly 30 something is not lost on me. It's like a passing of the torch.<br />
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I also feel a great kinship to those who came here in the first place, some of whom were my ancestors. William Bradford, the man credited for the thought behind the Mayflower Compact, is a direct ancestor of mine. Those early Puritans were far from perfect, but I admire their determination to create an environment where they could worship (even if I don't necessarily admire all the lengths to which they went to ensure that environment). In the same way that I've always been drawn to the UK, I've long wanted to come here. So many of my ancestors lived in New England that it feels like part of my genetic makeup, even though the total amount of time I've spent here now equates to approximately. . .five and a half hours.<br />
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Flying into the airport was delightful. I remember being in college and having my Arizonan roommates talk about how green Utah was and the midwestern roots that I have thinking they were crazy. Now that my parents live in Arizona I understand why they thought Utah was green. I still feel sad for them, though - anytime I fly into a city that's as green as this one I feel like the world gets a little better. Utah has its beauties but I do miss the green. When that green is coupled with flecks of bright red, yellow and orange? Exquisite.<br />
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Mom and I met up in the airport and, using public transportation navigational skills I've been honing to perfection for the last decade, we ditched the Uber idea and took the bus and train to the southern part of the city where we walked through the streets of Dorchester to our home for the week. Now, in addition to my coveting of the trees, I am coveting every house I can see. Who the heck ever thought it was a good idea to make every house look so freakishly practical? I want to buy all.the.houses. I also want to take pictures of all of them. Hope the locals don't mind!<br />
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After getting home we dropped off our bags and walked the quarter mile or so into Addam's Square to find dinner and a convenience store to pick up food for breakfast. We ended up finding all that we needed in an Irish cafe that sold meat pies and a whole range of British necessities at killer prices. What with the Caramel Digestives and Irish porridge and the <i>Big Bang Theory/Have I Got News For You</i> TV binge mom and I had tonight, I may as well be back in Europe. Come to find out that the local convenience store also had a huge supply of my favorite England treats - a delightful surprise that, perhaps, shouldn't have been. As my brother pointed out, it is New England. <br />
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Tomorrow is supposed to rain all day so we'll head to church then hole ourselves away into the southern part of town and the local art museums. Given that church is at 9:00 and about a 20 minute drive (and two hours earlier than my body clock puts it at about 7:00), you should know how much I love my mother. If I were traveling by myself I'd probably ditch the church idea, sleep in, and watch a devotional while I ate breakfast instead. But my mother is an amazing woman. The chance to travel alone with her is such a gift, that if mom says she wants to go to church in the morning, then we go to church in the morning. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32547457.post-36457477694480805612016-08-30T21:23:00.003-06:002016-08-30T21:23:40.656-06:00The Fountain of YouthI have been blessed with my mother's amazing genes in many ways. I have the same laugh she does. I have a similar peacemaking heart that would much rather sacrifice my own preference to someone else's if it means conflict going away (a blessing and a curse). I've also been blessed with her skin (sans the freckles she has). <br />
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This is kind of awesome.<br />
<br />It means I can rock red lipstick and feel like Snow White. It means that I'm not spending crazy amounts of money on creams or lotions or pills or whatever in a mad attempt to keep my skin looking young. Cetaphil and drug store facewash are good enough for me. It means I can play characters on stage that are much younger than myself (thereby allowing me to play loads of characters I have on my bucket list for longer than some.) There are some definite perks.<br />
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There are also some severe annoyances.<br />
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For example:<br />
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1. My new co-workers think I'm a precocious upstart with no experience. In reality, I've been teaching for almost a decade (sometimes longer and with more official qualifications than those many years my senior.)<br />
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2. Dating is a nightmare. People are always trying to set me up with their 20 year old recently returned missionaries. No. Just. . . no. <br />
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3. If I had a nickel for every time someone said "Ah! I thought you were a student!" I could probably fund a trip to Europe.<br />
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4. My greatest desire in life has always been to be taken seriously and treated like an intelligent being. Even from a very young age, I remember being seriously annoyed when adults didn't want to collaborate with me more or less as a peer. <br />
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There really isn't a point to this post. I haven't written anything real since England (and I need to! There's so much!) but starting at a new school has taken half my will to live and all my energy. So many new systems to work through and understand. Still can't print anything and no end in sight to that, so that's fun. Air conditioning broken in my classroom today, which was made more fun by my 60+ class sizes and the manure factory (no joke) down the road that was wafting smells our way all day. I had to move away from farmland to live by farms. Circle of life.<br />
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Venting done.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08903393621382964373noreply@blogger.com0