I've found myself all over the place in Easter memories today. I have such fond memories of childhood Easters in Horse Creek. We would get up in the cold early morning dark, dress quickly, and drive to the hillside with the white cross, where Dad usually had a nice fire burning. There wasn't usually much of a crowd, but those who found their way to sunrise service were always glad they came. Mom would always give the starting note and we would sing "up from the grave he arose" with all the fun echoes, and "Christ The Lord is risen today, with rolling a-a-aleluias in abundance.
Breakfast in the church basement always consisted of bacon and eggs and all sorts of cinnamon rolls. After the meal, it was time for a quick bath and clothing change into the new flowery Easter dress. Then it was time for church, and the crowded celebration feeling.
I always loved the bouquets of Easter Lilies, and there were always tulips and daffodils blooming in our yard. Spring existed to the it utmost.
The rest of the day consisted of egg hunts for candy in the house, and for those lovely boiled eggs we'd spent so much time coloring the day before. There was always at least one egg that had taken the all night soak as well. The eggs would make colorful salads and sandwiches in the days to come. It never bothered me when the dye leaked through to the edible parts inside. That only made those boiled eggs even more special.
In the years since childhood faded to adulthood, I've spent a good many Easters far from the comforts of my early memories. I will never forget joining friends from The Vine Church in Hong Kong for an Easter lunch of dim sum. My first Easter abroad was a far cry from the norm, and yet the heart of the celebration remained the same.
Then there was Easter in Poland with my old roommate, Naomi. We were amazed by all the monks and nuns walking around, a sight which would have been highly unsual in Czech where we lived. We enjoyed the Marketa, strolled by the Vistula River, and enjoyed the fabulous markets full of colorful wooden eggs.
I could go on, recalling Easter with the Wendels, or Easter in Prague with Marek and Malin, but it is nearing midnight, and I want to post this before Easter ends. Those who want the picture show should check the Aprils of years past. They're highly enjoyable if I do say so myself.
This Easter we had fabulous weather. We didn't make a sunrise service but did get to church, then spent the afternoon redoing most of the store. Perhaps not the most inspiring Easter ever, but being able to relive those past moments, and having a chance to continue working out our future was still a good way to spend this special day.
Showing posts with label Europe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Europe. Show all posts
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Monday, September 3, 2012
Photo Flashback
At long last, I'm going writing a post from an actual computer with photos on it. And so, without further ado, I'm going to have something of interest to look at on the blog again.
During our last few days in Czech, yes this goes way back to February, Mark did some research on things that were taking place in the region during WWII. After spending so much time looking at things online, we decided to literally go out in the field and get up close with some artifacts.
These old bunkers are out in a field just outside Marianske Lazne. Obviously you can't really go into them anymore, but it was fascinating to be so close to the history.
Naturally, I had to get some nature shots as well.
And what would any photo shoot be without a little self portrait to finish things off?
And so we close our last trip to Czech. With all the insanity going on involving owning a business, it's hard to say when we'll have a chance to get back again, but hopefully we can figure something out soon.
During our last few days in Czech, yes this goes way back to February, Mark did some research on things that were taking place in the region during WWII. After spending so much time looking at things online, we decided to literally go out in the field and get up close with some artifacts.
These old bunkers are out in a field just outside Marianske Lazne. Obviously you can't really go into them anymore, but it was fascinating to be so close to the history.
Naturally, I had to get some nature shots as well.
And what would any photo shoot be without a little self portrait to finish things off?
And so we close our last trip to Czech. With all the insanity going on involving owning a business, it's hard to say when we'll have a chance to get back again, but hopefully we can figure something out soon.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
If I Wrote A Guide Book
If I:
wrote a guide book it would be different than what you typically see. There are countless books highlighting the biggest cities and the most international locations. I love going to these places and experiencing that fast paced life, but there is always something unreal about it. It is even easy to live in such a place and never get a feel for what the culture and real life of the people is like.
So if I wrote a guide book I would focus on the gems that the common tourist misses. If my guide book was about the Czech Republic I would be certain to highlight the magical city of Marianske Lazne. My goal would be aimed at opening up people to the idea of really digging in and finding the hidden beauty in a country. So here are a few pages that I would definitely have to put into my guide book.
Walking through parks is definitely worth the time. You can watch the train pass, enjoy the sunlight through the trees, maybe even see a random old guy walking around carrying a tree, then climb a viewing tower. Of course, once you climb that tower you'll discover that it was built in an older era when the trees were not nearly so tall. At this point there's not a whole lot to view, so people use this place for other activities.
At least that is what we discovered on our walk through the slushy late February snow.
Then I would focus on looking at the famous sights from different angles, focusing on the details.
I'd take a different look during a different season, then get up close and personal with the details.
I would look for little bits of art that tell a story. The first is clearly on a quest. The second is a pair that demonstrates a common practice in art. Note how the woman is exposed while the man is concealed. Interesting, no?
If I wrote a guide book I would want to really live in the place first. I would want to be able to understand the world I was sharing, so the people reading my book would feel like they could experience the heartbeat of the city. It would also be great to point out cultural things like this. A dumpling shop:
I might not ever write a guide book. I do, however, have a story idea based on the life lead by a transient drifter. I hope, one day, to write in such a way that I can bring the travelers soul to the life of a tourist, enhancing their experiences as they walk wide eyed with wonder through this scarred but beautiful world.
wrote a guide book it would be different than what you typically see. There are countless books highlighting the biggest cities and the most international locations. I love going to these places and experiencing that fast paced life, but there is always something unreal about it. It is even easy to live in such a place and never get a feel for what the culture and real life of the people is like.
So if I wrote a guide book I would focus on the gems that the common tourist misses. If my guide book was about the Czech Republic I would be certain to highlight the magical city of Marianske Lazne. My goal would be aimed at opening up people to the idea of really digging in and finding the hidden beauty in a country. So here are a few pages that I would definitely have to put into my guide book.
Walking through parks is definitely worth the time. You can watch the train pass, enjoy the sunlight through the trees, maybe even see a random old guy walking around carrying a tree, then climb a viewing tower. Of course, once you climb that tower you'll discover that it was built in an older era when the trees were not nearly so tall. At this point there's not a whole lot to view, so people use this place for other activities.
At least that is what we discovered on our walk through the slushy late February snow.
Then I would focus on looking at the famous sights from different angles, focusing on the details.
I'd take a different look during a different season, then get up close and personal with the details.
I would look for little bits of art that tell a story. The first is clearly on a quest. The second is a pair that demonstrates a common practice in art. Note how the woman is exposed while the man is concealed. Interesting, no?
If I wrote a guide book I would want to really live in the place first. I would want to be able to understand the world I was sharing, so the people reading my book would feel like they could experience the heartbeat of the city. It would also be great to point out cultural things like this. A dumpling shop:
I might not ever write a guide book. I do, however, have a story idea based on the life lead by a transient drifter. I hope, one day, to write in such a way that I can bring the travelers soul to the life of a tourist, enhancing their experiences as they walk wide eyed with wonder through this scarred but beautiful world.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Czech In A Deep Freeze
I grew up in the tiny town (Europeans would scarcely even call it a village) of Horse Creek, California. Our house was tucked right into the side of a mountain in a lovely valley along the Klamath River We used to joke that the population of 115 included both humans and animals. The scenery was beautiful, but the climate was extreme. In the winter, we didn't always get a lot of snow, but the sun never shone on our house, so the yard often grew a veritable forest of frost. I can remember years so cold that my sister and I would curl up on the couch as close to the fireplace as we could get, with blankets piled high. I was familiar with the cold, and the crazy part is, I loved it.
I think the turn in my personality took place around the time I broke my back when I was thirteen. Whether it was the life changing accident, or merely natural teenage body changes, I flip flopped in my temperature gauge. I was no longer the little girl begging her mother to let her wear shorts when it hit 60 degrees. Instead, I developed into an absolute sun lover. This was highlighted in my years at Simpson University in Redding, CA, (where temperatures could reach into the hundred teens even in the late summer) and turned into an obvious life style choice when I moved to Hong Kong.
But what did I chose to do after making it obvious that I love the sun and being warm? Did I move back to California? Did I settle down in the tropics? No. First, of all the absurd things, I spent a winter in Alaska. Then, I moved to the Czech Republic, where the winters are slightly less bitter, but still no picnic. And this year, I decided to journey back to Czech for the winter. Um, come again? What was I thinking.
Naturally, this year is one of the coldest on record. It's like I completely forgot that when we flew out in November of 2010 that Europe was going through a blizzard which shut down airports as soon as our flights got through. When my husband said he needed to go home, I said, okay. And what did I end up with? This:
No, my hair didn't go permanently white due to the horror, it only froze after the walk where I encountered this frozen puddle.
As well as these breathtaking views.
The lowest temp I've seen thus far is -22C. While that might still not rival the temps I experienced in Alaska, it's still ridiculously cold. Especially because here, I don't always have a car to just jump into. If we want to go somewhere it requires walking, and sometimes spending a couple hours just hanging out in all that icy brutality. No, I'm no longer the little girl who thought living in Antarctica would be "cool."
I think the turn in my personality took place around the time I broke my back when I was thirteen. Whether it was the life changing accident, or merely natural teenage body changes, I flip flopped in my temperature gauge. I was no longer the little girl begging her mother to let her wear shorts when it hit 60 degrees. Instead, I developed into an absolute sun lover. This was highlighted in my years at Simpson University in Redding, CA, (where temperatures could reach into the hundred teens even in the late summer) and turned into an obvious life style choice when I moved to Hong Kong.
But what did I chose to do after making it obvious that I love the sun and being warm? Did I move back to California? Did I settle down in the tropics? No. First, of all the absurd things, I spent a winter in Alaska. Then, I moved to the Czech Republic, where the winters are slightly less bitter, but still no picnic. And this year, I decided to journey back to Czech for the winter. Um, come again? What was I thinking.
Naturally, this year is one of the coldest on record. It's like I completely forgot that when we flew out in November of 2010 that Europe was going through a blizzard which shut down airports as soon as our flights got through. When my husband said he needed to go home, I said, okay. And what did I end up with? This:
No, my hair didn't go permanently white due to the horror, it only froze after the walk where I encountered this frozen puddle.
As well as these breathtaking views.
The lowest temp I've seen thus far is -22C. While that might still not rival the temps I experienced in Alaska, it's still ridiculously cold. Especially because here, I don't always have a car to just jump into. If we want to go somewhere it requires walking, and sometimes spending a couple hours just hanging out in all that icy brutality. No, I'm no longer the little girl who thought living in Antarctica would be "cool."
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Maybe It's a Touch of Pixie Dust
Driving around through the Czech Republic might look a lot like crusing through the Willamette Valley of Oregon, but there is a distinct difference. Nestled amongst the forested hills, beside the resting fields, and tucked securely in river bends are ancient villages (not small towns but definitely villages) where ancient cathedrals stand with spires sparkling in the sun, and castles make apperances along teh way. It jsut isn't something you can compare to America. It makes this place seem other worldly somehow.
It's hard to explain just how enchating this place can be. I have yet to visit any of these fascinating places since my arrival. I guess knowing we'll be here for three months has us moving a little more slowly than we would if we were only here for two weeks. There's also the fact that for my Love, this is just home. Fantastic, wonderfully glorious, home. He is more than content to curl up in the room of his childhood and just be here.
Much as I love it, I want a little bit more. I want to go out and explore. I want to take my ancient digital camera and discover new details. I want to feel that I'm having a European experience, not just spend all day in our little room here. (sigh)
I know we will do more as the days go by, but it has started snowing, and that makes it less than appealing to just wander about on my own. Snow can be lovely, don't get me wrong, but with no personal mode of transportation except my own feet, the idea of just going anywhere means being cold and wet. Not really my favorite things.
On the positively bright side of things, I've really been getting back to the challenge. After a week of not feeling capable of holding on to any type of schedule, I've spent the past two days writing seriously. Due to some complications in transferring the data from my macbook to my iPad, I'm not able to track how many pages I've written, but I'm gonna guess it's quite a few :) And the magic of this place seems to be working for my story as well. I'm not quite ready to hand out details just yet, but living in a fairy tale sort of land lends itself well to the task at hand.
I've been working on preparing some pictures to post, because I know that is far more interesting than miles of basic text, but for some reason I haven't figured out how to get the computer to hook up to the internet, so for now, I'll just end this post with some suspense. Maybe there will be pictures next time...maybe there won't.
It's hard to explain just how enchating this place can be. I have yet to visit any of these fascinating places since my arrival. I guess knowing we'll be here for three months has us moving a little more slowly than we would if we were only here for two weeks. There's also the fact that for my Love, this is just home. Fantastic, wonderfully glorious, home. He is more than content to curl up in the room of his childhood and just be here.
Much as I love it, I want a little bit more. I want to go out and explore. I want to take my ancient digital camera and discover new details. I want to feel that I'm having a European experience, not just spend all day in our little room here. (sigh)
I know we will do more as the days go by, but it has started snowing, and that makes it less than appealing to just wander about on my own. Snow can be lovely, don't get me wrong, but with no personal mode of transportation except my own feet, the idea of just going anywhere means being cold and wet. Not really my favorite things.
On the positively bright side of things, I've really been getting back to the challenge. After a week of not feeling capable of holding on to any type of schedule, I've spent the past two days writing seriously. Due to some complications in transferring the data from my macbook to my iPad, I'm not able to track how many pages I've written, but I'm gonna guess it's quite a few :) And the magic of this place seems to be working for my story as well. I'm not quite ready to hand out details just yet, but living in a fairy tale sort of land lends itself well to the task at hand.
I've been working on preparing some pictures to post, because I know that is far more interesting than miles of basic text, but for some reason I haven't figured out how to get the computer to hook up to the internet, so for now, I'll just end this post with some suspense. Maybe there will be pictures next time...maybe there won't.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Garnet Ghost Town
During the weekend trip to Seeley Lake, we also had the chance to visit an old Ghost Town in the Montana mountains. Garnet, once a booming mining town with a population of around 1,000 is now home only to the rangers who protect it. There has been some work done to clear out the surrounding forest to make it less susceptible to forest fires, and different groups have come up to reinforce the remaining buildings to preserve this wonderful witness to frontier life.
The town started in the 1880s I believe. As the name suggests, it was a mining town, although they were mostly interested in gold. While the town had four stores, four hotels and a booming 17 saloons, it still managed to be more family oriented than many of the other towns around. This is made evident by the building that I found most fascinating: The Newlywed House. I'm not sure if the whole sign will be legible, but basically a wealthy man built this house for the use of newlyweds. They could live here rent free until their own house was built, or until the next couple got married. Pretty cool if you ask me, although, despite having it's own two seater outhouse near the back, I'm not sure I'd be very well suited for this sort of living.
Wandering around this place actually made me stop and evaluate what matters in life a bit. I've been reading a blog lately by someone who has stopped buying new clothes. She's been at it for several years, and shares a lot about ways to declutter life. Having spent several years out of country, I know what it means to live with little. In Hong Kong I had about a 6 by 6 foot space to call my own. With one suitcase and whatever I could buy as a volunteer, I learned to live with little. But all along I knew I had at least two bedrooms full of stuff at home. Every time I return from life abroad I cut down, but the thought of living in these cramped, cold, dirty quarters chills me. What would these people think if they saw an episode of any of the design shows on HGTV that I enjoy so much? It would be like traveling to a completely different world to them. Really makes me think.
Well, enough of my soapbox, back to the town. Walking around between the little buildings it also made me think of how much these people had to rely on one another. Living out in the boondocks in those days was beyond tough. It was hard to get supplies in, despite the lovely local stores.
I was amused to see that they had Hills Bros Coffee, which I enjoy even today in mocha form. But mostly life's pleasures were of a simple nature for these hard working people. They had to take care of one another, to really live in community if they were to survive the hard Montana winters. The trails between houses were well worn, and no doubt everyone knew everyone's business. Including who used the back stairs to visit the ladies' parlour at the finest saloon in town.
It's kind of tragic to me to think of how isolated we have become in this world of social networking. We might know exactly when our "friends" have gone to the shopping mall (apparently sometimes leaving themselves open to thievery by the detailed state of their affairs) but more often than not we don't know anything about the people living right next door. While I have no choice but to know my neighbors, seeing as how my sister lives next door, and the people on the other side are chatty and friendly, this is the first time since leaving my parents home after high school that I can make such a claim. And while I would naturally ask my sister for a cup of sugar, I'd be hard pressed to ask anyone else around for anything except in the most dire of circumstances.
Really didn't think I was going to get so deep on this Ghost Town post. Who knew?
Anyhow, I'll move along now that I've put some thoughts in motion. Along with the various and sundry shacks that remain, and some information that is known about the old dance and community hall, or the store house relics, the most impressive building in the town was and is the hotel. This place was a work of art, completely out of touch with the rest of the village. The woman who had it built and owned it wanted it to be just as fine as if it were in a major city, and I would say she succeeded. After seeing the relative squalor that the common people lived in, it was almost shocking to see the luxury she managed to maintain in this fantastic lodge. I imagine many of the women experienced envy at the thought of the beautiful wall paper and fashionable furniture that decorated this place of convenience for outsiders, as well as housing the occasional miner who paid for a spot on the third level to roll out his sleeping mat on the floor or a little cot.
There was a story displayed there about the woman who came to be the cook. She arrived at the last coach stop before the town only to learn that there were no more rides to town for the night. She was supposed to start work the next morning, so she walked some 8 to 10 miles in the dark in order to be there to get food on the table in time for breakfast. Another reminder of how hardy these people were. They wouldn't outsource all their production to China in order to save money and line their pockets. They'd work hard to see to it that they took care of their own. Wow, bandwagoning again. What's gotten into me? Maybe I've been hanging clothes for too long and am finally just needing to get it out. I think I'm still trying to deal with American entitlement culture shock, and just haven't had a whole lot of chances to process it. But, not ever really enjoying being political, I'll try to reign myself in a bit.
After seeing all the town had to offer, we also checked out some of the old mining area. They didn't dig deep holes down into the earth, but mostly made trenches and searched through the quartz for those valuable veins of gold. A few remnants remained, but it was obvious that the frenzy has long since gone out of this place.
And so we had an amazing opportunity to step back into the past and really contemplate the way people used to live. It's an incredible gift really. Eye opening in more ways than one. After living in Europe with it's ancient castles, and history that is still evident stretching back before the birth of America, it's nice to have at least a small chance to see some of what America was built upon. These were brave and daring souls. Far from perfect, as evidenced by the number of saloons, and the jail cell that was reportedly used most often to house drunks while they slept it off, but they knew the value of the land and their community in ways that we have largely forgotten with all our technological advancements. If there ever were some disaster that wiped out our technical capabilities I'd be totally at a loss for how to survive. I see the way they live and it makes me cringe. I love electricity and my ever expanding closet of clothes, not to mention my cell phone, digital camera, and computer. I have enough trouble cooking on a modern stove, and where would I be without a comfy bed to sleep in?
There is so much more to life than we realize. So many things to contemplate, to see, to learn. I hope I never close my eyes to all there is to experience where ever in the world I call my home.
The town started in the 1880s I believe. As the name suggests, it was a mining town, although they were mostly interested in gold. While the town had four stores, four hotels and a booming 17 saloons, it still managed to be more family oriented than many of the other towns around. This is made evident by the building that I found most fascinating: The Newlywed House. I'm not sure if the whole sign will be legible, but basically a wealthy man built this house for the use of newlyweds. They could live here rent free until their own house was built, or until the next couple got married. Pretty cool if you ask me, although, despite having it's own two seater outhouse near the back, I'm not sure I'd be very well suited for this sort of living.
Wandering around this place actually made me stop and evaluate what matters in life a bit. I've been reading a blog lately by someone who has stopped buying new clothes. She's been at it for several years, and shares a lot about ways to declutter life. Having spent several years out of country, I know what it means to live with little. In Hong Kong I had about a 6 by 6 foot space to call my own. With one suitcase and whatever I could buy as a volunteer, I learned to live with little. But all along I knew I had at least two bedrooms full of stuff at home. Every time I return from life abroad I cut down, but the thought of living in these cramped, cold, dirty quarters chills me. What would these people think if they saw an episode of any of the design shows on HGTV that I enjoy so much? It would be like traveling to a completely different world to them. Really makes me think.
Well, enough of my soapbox, back to the town. Walking around between the little buildings it also made me think of how much these people had to rely on one another. Living out in the boondocks in those days was beyond tough. It was hard to get supplies in, despite the lovely local stores.
I was amused to see that they had Hills Bros Coffee, which I enjoy even today in mocha form. But mostly life's pleasures were of a simple nature for these hard working people. They had to take care of one another, to really live in community if they were to survive the hard Montana winters. The trails between houses were well worn, and no doubt everyone knew everyone's business. Including who used the back stairs to visit the ladies' parlour at the finest saloon in town.
It's kind of tragic to me to think of how isolated we have become in this world of social networking. We might know exactly when our "friends" have gone to the shopping mall (apparently sometimes leaving themselves open to thievery by the detailed state of their affairs) but more often than not we don't know anything about the people living right next door. While I have no choice but to know my neighbors, seeing as how my sister lives next door, and the people on the other side are chatty and friendly, this is the first time since leaving my parents home after high school that I can make such a claim. And while I would naturally ask my sister for a cup of sugar, I'd be hard pressed to ask anyone else around for anything except in the most dire of circumstances.
Really didn't think I was going to get so deep on this Ghost Town post. Who knew?
Anyhow, I'll move along now that I've put some thoughts in motion. Along with the various and sundry shacks that remain, and some information that is known about the old dance and community hall, or the store house relics, the most impressive building in the town was and is the hotel. This place was a work of art, completely out of touch with the rest of the village. The woman who had it built and owned it wanted it to be just as fine as if it were in a major city, and I would say she succeeded. After seeing the relative squalor that the common people lived in, it was almost shocking to see the luxury she managed to maintain in this fantastic lodge. I imagine many of the women experienced envy at the thought of the beautiful wall paper and fashionable furniture that decorated this place of convenience for outsiders, as well as housing the occasional miner who paid for a spot on the third level to roll out his sleeping mat on the floor or a little cot.
There was a story displayed there about the woman who came to be the cook. She arrived at the last coach stop before the town only to learn that there were no more rides to town for the night. She was supposed to start work the next morning, so she walked some 8 to 10 miles in the dark in order to be there to get food on the table in time for breakfast. Another reminder of how hardy these people were. They wouldn't outsource all their production to China in order to save money and line their pockets. They'd work hard to see to it that they took care of their own. Wow, bandwagoning again. What's gotten into me? Maybe I've been hanging clothes for too long and am finally just needing to get it out. I think I'm still trying to deal with American entitlement culture shock, and just haven't had a whole lot of chances to process it. But, not ever really enjoying being political, I'll try to reign myself in a bit.
After seeing all the town had to offer, we also checked out some of the old mining area. They didn't dig deep holes down into the earth, but mostly made trenches and searched through the quartz for those valuable veins of gold. A few remnants remained, but it was obvious that the frenzy has long since gone out of this place.
And so we had an amazing opportunity to step back into the past and really contemplate the way people used to live. It's an incredible gift really. Eye opening in more ways than one. After living in Europe with it's ancient castles, and history that is still evident stretching back before the birth of America, it's nice to have at least a small chance to see some of what America was built upon. These were brave and daring souls. Far from perfect, as evidenced by the number of saloons, and the jail cell that was reportedly used most often to house drunks while they slept it off, but they knew the value of the land and their community in ways that we have largely forgotten with all our technological advancements. If there ever were some disaster that wiped out our technical capabilities I'd be totally at a loss for how to survive. I see the way they live and it makes me cringe. I love electricity and my ever expanding closet of clothes, not to mention my cell phone, digital camera, and computer. I have enough trouble cooking on a modern stove, and where would I be without a comfy bed to sleep in?
There is so much more to life than we realize. So many things to contemplate, to see, to learn. I hope I never close my eyes to all there is to experience where ever in the world I call my home.
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