Long Beach, WA

We decided to take advantage of the holiday weekend and head to the beach at the Washington Coast. Our friend Emily has a small beach cottage, circa late 1970, and we took her up on the offer to stay there. To make things fun, we decided to dress to match the vacation house. We donned whatever 70s clothing we could find and headed off down the road together (5 friends and 2 dogs) in a van, a 1970s ride of choice!

When we arrived at the beach cottage, dizzy from hours of listening to ABBA and the Jackson 5, our eyes beheld its gorgeous plaid mustard armchairs, orange TV trays, and wood paneled walls, among other delicious decor. We posed for photos, and Andy and Malia tied for the 'most authentic' costume award. Instagram, eat your heart out...

Memorial Day weekend in Washington is not your typical patriotic flag-waving and backyard BBQ affair.  But we bundled up and tried our best (note the fleece and sweatshirt attire), while listening to a few classics like 'Born in the USA' and 'Proud to Be an American'.

Alas, no coastal holiday weekend would be complete without a cold, gray day of hiking.  This is Cape Disappointment. 

Humorously, the beach next door is called 'Waikiki Beach'.  

Should you visit, be careful not to ponder what it would be like to sit on the real Waikiki Beach, as this is when true feelings of disappointment arise. 

The sun came out for our last day, just in time for a bundled-up nap on the beach,

and a race through the sand with my dog Sophie.

A Happy Memorial Day, Indeed.

Whidbey Institute

I just returned from a leadership retreat on Whidbey Island at the Whidbey Institute. 

www.whidbeyinstitute.org

For the record, I would like to acknowledge that Seattle's weather has been FABULOUS since I have returned from my travels abroad.  Every single weekend has been sunny, calling into question my serious doubts about Seattle's habitability.  Seducing me into believing that it is absolutely the prettiest place on earth to live....

And then came the rains.  For 4 days, the entire retreat. 

However, the Whidbey Institute is tucked away in the rolling hills and forrest land on an island just an hour away from Seattle.  It was an idyllic setting.  We stayed in an beautiful farmhouse, next to gorgeous gardens, and ate the most fabulously healthy and creative food prepared with a local and sustainable emphasis.  Their mission is "Inspiring and renewing people to serve a future that sustains us all." And their practices, people, and placement radiate with a poetic, earthy essence. Any place that can capture my heart amidst endless drizzle and gray is a special place indeed.  

I'd like to thank you, Whidbey Instite, for reminding me that gray skies actually make the flowers and green surroundings even more radiant.  This is an artist's secret: neutral backdrops bring colors to life.  

I would also like to add that I plan to continue traveling meditations.  Traveling is less about place and more about state of mind.  For me, traveling opens the mind to what is new, unexpected, and adventurous.  All this is possible without a change of location.  In fact, my most difficult and eye opening journeys have occured on the inside.  And these will continue, as I uncover new ways to live into what is calling my body and soul.  So for now, another favorite poem, from poet who lives nearby the Whidbey Institute - David Whyte.

EVERYTHING IS WAITING FOR YOU

 

(After Derek Mahon)

 

Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone.  As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions.  To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings.  Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice.  You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

 

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation.  The kettle is singing 
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last.  All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves.  Everything is waiting for you.

 

~ David Whyte ~

 

(Everything is Waiting for You)

 

 

Water Wars and Elephant Kisses

The Songkran (or New Year's) celebration in Chiang Mai, Thailand:

Imagine yourself in the middle of New Orleans during Mardi Gras, except without any lewd behavior or drunkenness.  Instead of throwing beads and confetti, you are engaged in an all-out water fight.  Perhaps you are riding in the back of a truck, carrying a water gun in one hand and a bucket in the other, and dousing any unlucky open vehicle that passes by.  Or perhaps you are riding double on an extremely loud, yet amazingly compact motorbike, wielding a supersoaker to blast pedestrians curbside.  OR even better, you are on hose duty, standing along the road, hose running and spraying cars, bikes, and pedestrians.  All things being equal, you are soaking wet.  But when the weather's approaching 100 degrees F, a little cool down isn't so bad. 

If you find yourself asking, 'Why?', as I did, here's the rundown we were given by our tour guide:  Songkran is Thai New Year's, and originally was a time for cleansing the altars and buddha images with holy water. It was also a time when young people would sprinkle water on their elders as a sign of respect.  One might go to the temple to watch the water being blessed by the monks, and then take some water home to lightly spritz on the hands and head of their parents and grandparents.  Oh, how traditions do change.  

Forget sprinkling, this is a water war.

Andy and I appreciated escaping the water and noise of Chiang Mai city for the surrounding green hills and forests.  We spent a few days trekking through the forest and burning farmland, staying overnight in a Hmong village.  We took a cooking class overlooking a rice field.  But our final Thai day took the cake...a visit to the Elephant Nature Park.  A place where domesticated/working elephants are offered care, respite and protection from abuse.  These huge, beautiful, smart, and sensitive creatures were amazing to see, to feed, and to bathe at this sanctuary set in the hills.  

And they kiss the tourists...as long as there's a bundle of bananas in it for them.  

What's it like to be kissed by an elephant?  Like a sloppy suction cup to the face.  

But, so sweet, you just want another one.  

"Love Blooms on the shoulder of the Elephant who is courteous to the Ant." ~ Hafiz

Thailand

First of all, I would like to invite you to take your shoes off and stay a while...don't forget to take them off again when you are at home, and also whenever you are in a store, at your favorite restaurant, your hotel room, or any other place other than the street.  In case you need convincing to embrace this Thai foot nudity imperative, this (below) is what I happened upon whilst taking a short hike to a beach in Koh Phi Phi Don.  

Notice the subtle use of persuasion here... Has anyone else had that dream where you show up to school and realize you forgot to wear shoes?  I don't think the people of Thailand have that dream. 

These two little guys are my buddies, and I make sure to give them a snuggle every time I pass by the Carpe Diem restaurant where they live.  

A few notes about Thailand's Beaches: They are gorgeous and cheap.  This is the mecca of budget travel....with a few bizillion travelers who have come to worship the gods of white sand beaches, mountain views, and gorgeous blue water.  If you thought you might just escape and stay in a completely remote location for quiet meditation, you might meditatively explore the concept of sharing, along with that of not passing judgment on annoying tourists or drunk college students, and hone your advanced meditation skills to the rhythm of the DJ bass beating full blast several blocks away (at midnight).

I know, life is tough.  And views like this one do give you meditation super powers. 

Here is another Hafiz poem for you...

Now 

That

All your worry

Has proved such an

Unlucrative 

Business

Why not

Find a

Better

Job

RELAX... and take off your shoes, please :)

Hong Kong photos

Hong Kong

Probably twice the size of New York, Hong Kong is a HUGE city...with highrise apartments, neon signs and enormous billboards to rival Times Square.  My first day off the long flight from Sydney happened to coincide with a one of the more rowdy expat events of the year: The Rugby Sevens' tournament, ie. an international excuse for a drunken costume party within a football stadium.  Christa and Nash got us tickets, which was a huge treat.  Several hours and Pimm's cups later, the scene inside the stadium reminded me, oddly, of college football game meets college halloween frat party, but with Asian signage and British accents.  My favorite match was when New Zealand pummelled the USA...the All Blacks (NZ national team) kicked the pants off of us, as well they should have.

Christa and Nash live in a lovely bay outside of the city, called Lobster Bay.  Their setting is so peaceful and idyllic, with views of the sea and mounains surronding a little fishing village.  Its quite easy to forget the concrete jungle, the people-packed metropolis that is Hong Kong only 25 minutes away.  This weekend, we took the kayaks outside the bay and then hiked from the beach up to the top of one of a hill, at Clearwater Bay Country Park.  The views were nice, though the smog gave everything a haze that looked as if it should burn off,  but actually never will.   Smog is a significant concern here.  Nash and Christa noted that certain days during the summer, when humidity and smog is at its height, children aren't allowed to go outside to play.  But right now, with almost no humidity and a light breeze, the sky everywhere just looks a little foggy.  

Christa took me into the city yesterday, to her old stomping grounds and the heart of Hong Kong's shopping district.  I saw every designer shop I have ever heard of, and a few hundred more which sounded vaguely familiar.  Aparently the Chinese like to shop.  And then there was the open market (below) The whole place fascinated me...the sights, smells, sounds, and the mass of people everywhere.  A long walk through the city markets and shops, a ride on the tram, followed by a foot massage, and it's official...I love this place.

Life Down Under

I am saying good-bye to Australia today...and I will miss feeling like a real Sydneysider alongside my hosts Liz, Logan, Reid, and Porter (yes, officially this little guy has a name)! 

Not only have I been learning about the land down under, I have also been experiencing Newborn-Landia.  Seeing the life of a baby, day 1 to 5, in all his ittie bittie 6.5 pound adorableness, has been a gift.  His little feet, miniature toes, teensy nose, all perfectly shaped and ready for exponential growth rates to come!  In the past month, my world has literally been turned upside down: from preparing people for the end of life to welcoming a new one into the world.  Life is practically overflowing from this household, with a 2 year old and 2 working parents.  Here is a photo of their first park outing with Porter, day 2.  

Alongside this rather stark juxtaposition, the land down under has been full of interesting distinctions from home. The season was late Summer, and is now Autumn.  The sports played here, rugby and cricket, only faintly resemble American baseball and football, but have their own incredibly complicated rules and are quite avidly followed.  The coffee culture is fabulous (definitely rivals Seattle in strength and surpasses Seattle in number of coffee shops per city block - I believe there are 3 within 1 block of Liz and Logans house).  But the coffee is different in size (no such thing as a grande or venti size) and terms (Flat White, Long Black, Short Black, Latte, and Cappuccino).  It has taken me about a month to figure out the difference between a Flat White and a Latte (key: its the amount of froth, ie. flat vs. foamy).  The money coinage  seems counterintuitive (they have $ .50 $1 and $2 coins, their sizes ranging in this order from largest to smallest).  Perhaps the most disorienting of all is the general mode of operation "on the left."   Walking, driving, biking, and just moving around - all on the left side takes a bit of reorientation.   The simplest acts of walking down a busy sidewalk, stepping onto a bus, or looking both ways before crossing the street...could quickly become disastrous if I allow auto pilot to kick in.  Perhaps my left handedness has finally come in handy.

Another chapter of this trip is closing. I leave for Hong Kong this evening.  Here is another poem by Hafiz, that anyone who is parenting may also appreciate:

Children

Can easily open the

Drawer

That lets the spirit rise up and wear

Its favorite costume of

Mirth and laughter.

When the mind is consumed with 

Remembrance of 

God

Something divine happens to the 

Heart

That 

Shapes the hand and tongue  

And eye into

The word

Love.

Photos from Australia

The 4 S's

A surprise package is awaiting my return to Sydney today.  I spoke with Liz and Logan yesterday, and learned that she gave birth to a healthy baby boy on Friday morning, around 7:45am, just shy of 2 weeks ahead of schedule.  I had been hopeful to give them some time as a family together without their added houseguest, so they could enjoy some time before baby chaos.  Ah, such lofty plans!  Baby Williams was set upon disregarding them.   So now I will have the outstanding priviledge of meeting him and hopefully helping to entertain Reid.  Though intuition tells me that the best gift might be taking another trip away from the Williams household, and letting them adjust to this tender new family life together, sans visitor.  I think the Blue Mountains are beckoning....but I must at least greet this little guy first.

Ironically, while in Port Stephens I was reminded of the 4 S's, a concept that my many mother friends discuss when attending to their newborn babies.  Or Perhaps it is the 5 S's..swaddle, side, swing, shoosh and...help me out here...I know there is another one.  But the reason it came to me had nothing to do with babies.  It seems ridiculous now to make this connection, but my mind is funny that way.  I thought of it while hiking up a small mountain next to the beach called Tamoree Head, shortly after my fall and a brief visit to the beach.  It was quite hot, I was covered in sand, sweating profusely, and had begun to notice the odiferousness I was sending out into the universe.  And thus began my 4 S's of Port Stephens: Sweaty, Sandy, Smelly, Salty, and what the hell, lets make it 5...Sore (my scraped knee had begun to throb).  But despite all this, I was in absolute heaven.  I was at peace with myself and my (albeit gorgeous) surroundings.  Forget the 25 spiders I passed on my way up to Tamoree's lookout, forget the throbbing knee and the brown snake in the bushes, forget the thoughts of work or plane ticket purchases needing to be made.   I was in paradise for a day.  

What a gift. I have been looking for an excuse to include another poem, by Hafiz.  And this is just the occasion.  It reminds me of Liz and Logan's son Reid, who has taken to saying the word, 'gift' quite frequently.  His latest gift?  A new baby brother....the best kind.

There are so many gifts

Still unopened from your birthday,

There are so many hand-crafted presents

That have been sent to you by God.

The Beloved does not mind repeating,

"Everything I have is also yours."

There are so many gifts, my dear,

Still unopened from your birthday.

O, there are so many hand-crafted presents

That have been sent to your life

From God.

Port Stephens

I have been proud of myself for a few things this trip.  The first, perhaps started before the trip itself, when I decided to leave my job as a chaplain and set out for 2 months of  multi continental traveling...without having a set plan for work upon my return.  'What an enormous leap of faith!'  I thought, patting myself on the back. By American standards, doing something like this is not just a leap of faith, but perhaps stupidly risky...no paycheck, no insurance, no set plan...  Until I came to Australia and New Zealand, where every other person one meets is 'in between jobs' and 'taking a few months to travel'.  Out of the many travelers I have encountered in hostels this past month, I think my measly 2 months may have been one of the shortest traveling stints.  Many of these folks, from France, England, Germany, Holland, and even Australia, were planning to spend several weeks in each city, just to 'get a real feel for it'.  They chuckled to themselves as my mother and I shared our intentions to cover the whole of New Zealand in 2.5 weeks.  How could anyone possibly enjoy rushing through a country??  And after having done this, I certainly agree. But this whole issue of rushing and trying to pack everything in to a tight schedule speaks far more about our cultural differences around vacation than it does to personal travel preferences.  When one has only 2.5 weeks of vacation a year, it would make sense to try and maximize each moment, pack each vacation day.  If one saves up all of one's vacation time to use on a big trip, say 3 weeks, which on American terms is a VERY long vacation from work, then it would have to be used as optimally as possible. None of this lingering in one city for 2 weeks or not knowing where one might stay for half of the time.  Precious time might be lost! But in Australia, Europe, Canada, perhaps elsewhere, this is an utterly foreign concept.  Taking 2 months away is not uncommon at all. It is actually even more common to take 6, because, really, what can one see in 2 short months?!  So after initially feeling quite proud of myself, I have come to feel rather ordinary here.  Oh well.  I have found another reason to feel proud of myself, which brings me to the next topic of discussion: Port Stephens.

A lovely beach getaway, just 3 hours north of Sydney.  A place I traveled alone, by bus and train,  and stayed in a mostly outdoor hostel called Samurai Beach Bungalows YHA.  When I say mostly outdoor, I mean it was like camping and staying in cabins, in the 'bush', with VERY large spiders, snakes, and other creepy insects.  'Not to worry', the hostel owner assured me, 'We have 3 large boa constrictors here that take care of the baby browns (ie. most deadly poisonous snake in Australia), so I can walk everywhere barefoot.'  What a relief! His wife then pointed out the many varieties of spiders spinning webs in the bush next to my head, each quite unique, though all sharing a similar quality of largeness.  'And you might see Koalas in the trees at dusk.'  Ah, some good news!  I would have welcomed a Koala, but instead was only able to witness a very large possum living in the rafters of my cabin.  She must've been waking up about the time I was heading to bed. To her credit, she was much cuter than American possums.  Sort of a Koala-esque quality about her, all furry and cute, with bright eyes and a bushy tail, it almost made up for not actually seeing a real Koala.  

And the next reason for my self pride: I rented a bike at the hostel, and set out to bike around the area.  On said bike expedition, I encountered a tumble (thankfully in a quiet neighborhood, going extremely slow) and flew over the front of my bike.  I still have yet to figure out what caused this, as I was on a paved neighborhood road, without a car in sight, and was practically crawling at a snail's pace.  Nevertheless, here I was only a few miles from the beach, with a scraped up knee and shouder.  But in my backpack, I had my trusty first aid kit, and proceeded to clean out my wounds, put on the antibiotic ointment, and be on  my way.  For this stealth preparedness, I have to thank my husband Andy, who not only always reminds me to be prepared for the worst, but who packed my first aid kit full of all the needed items.  I thought of him immediately, and also wished he was there to offer some comfort, the one item not included in the kit :)

Sydney

Sydney is fabulous.  Of course, it helps that the weather has creeped up into the 70s, and the skies turned blue just in time for my trip. (Australia has been experiencing an extremely rainy summer, now turned to a sunny autumn, and I am certainly not complaining).  My dear friends Liz and Logan Williams have been showing me a great time, and I have loved getting to know their 2 year old Reid who now refers to me as 'Aunt Denn' (as in, Aunt Jenn).  Truly adorable.  I am certain that had Liz not been 9 months pregnant with her 2nd child (due just 2 weeks after my visit), she would have taken me on 12 mile day hikes in the wilderness (which Aussies refer to as 'walks').  Instead, we cut back to a 4 hour 'walk' each day and Liz set the pace - a pace that I had to push to keep up with.  Did I mention that she is 9 months pregnant?  Most women at 9 months have some difficulty maneuvering themselves around the house, let alone charging down hiking trails!  It is easy to see why Liz and Logan are eager to get outside and walk around, Sydney is full of gorgeous views...gorgeous beaches...parks everywhere...

Here is a shot of us above Bondi Beach, where we did the Bondi to Coogee 'walk'.

Marlborough Sound

Family Ties

 

Last week my mother and I traversed the Southern Island of New Zealand by plane, train, boat and auto.  From Wellington, we crossed the Cook Strait by ferry, and explored the winding roads of Marlborough Sounds. We biked through wine country (here, above, at our favorite vineyard TerraVin) and then boarded a train to Christchurch.  All this in 3 days.  You can imagine we were keeping a fast pace. Having originally planned this trip as an ancestry search of sorts, the last portion of our trip was devoted to meeting distant relations in Christchurch and Dunedin. What we found far surpassed our wildest hopes. 

A little back story: My great great grandmother, Sarah, was born in New Zealand sometime in the 1870s. She married James, an Irish immigrant to the new colony, and they had 2 children, the eldest of whom is my great grandma May.  Sarah died shortly thereafter and her grave is in Dunedin. James remarried and his wife Annie requested they move to San Fransisco around 1900, and thus began their American story.  James, Sarah and Annie all had family who remained in New Zealand.  And so 112 years later, my mom and I show up to meet the relatives!

Our first visit was to Annie's descendents.  We found cousin Neil and his wife in Christchurch and shared a lovely meal and tea with them in their home (which is also a gorgeous homestay, Dry Paddocks).  They shared their heartbreak over the recent destruction of Christchurch's Cathedral, following devastating earthquakes last year.  The next morning, we had a delightful visit with Neil's mother Joyce, who knew and hosted my grandparents on their visit 25 years ago.  We reminisced about their travels together and left feeling that our visit with her was far too short.  Then, we traveled to Dunedin, to stay with James' relations.  Robyn and John were our hosts, and we enjoyed 3 days with Robyn touring from Dunedin to Twizel to see Mt. Aoraki (Cook), also pictured above.  Robyn took us to see Sarah's grave, and also the home where James and Sarah, and later Annie, originally lived. As it turns out, Robyn is a geneology buff who has literally written books on the heritage of our families.  Amazing! We are now full to the brim with Kiwi hospitality, and our only regret is that the trip was far too short.  We will certainly be back.

Wellington

Wellington is a foodie town, and lived up to its reputation.

These fish dishes were done in New Orleans style, at a delicious Southern/Mexican fusion place called Sweet Mother's.   We had to try the New Zealand beers, I had a wheat and mom had a pilsner, both great.  We topped this meal off with Beignets.  Now likely a few pounds heavier than I was at the start of my trip (remember the carbonera pasta and pizzas), I am starting to wonder why skinny jeans seemed like such a good pre-trip purchase.  But everyone is wearing them here.  It turns out you don't actually have to BE skinny to wear them.  Fashion seems almost purposefully random, with lots of mismatched 80s clothes, the women seem to be competing for the 'frumpiest outfit' award. I have yet to get a good pic of this fashion phenom, but will make it my next mission.  

Wellington has a cool vibe, and seems quite international, with Malaysian, Japanese, Indian, and Thai food shops on most corners.  Supposedly, lots of immigrants came over in the 1950s and the 1970s to work in the factories, and have since stayed.  I'm sure plenty more have arrived in recent years, just because of the gorgeous landscape with free schools and healthcare, and virtually no poverty according to the standards of other countries.

The Te Papa Museum, which is New Zealand's National Museum, gave us a great introduction to the history, landscape and challenges faced by contemporary New Zealanders.  What impressed me was how much they care about their land and conservation.  Everyone recycles, and our tourguide spoke about the active forest restoration efforts.  The Far North had forest conservation signs and protect the Kiwi (endangered, I guess) signs up around every corner.  They are like Seattle's nature lovers on steroids.   I would fit right in....just give me some pink stonewashed jeans and I would be good to go.

The Far North

 The Far North

 Kahoe Farms Hostel 

A lovely place, so far removed 

from Auckland, up the winding

roads to the Far North, where

hostel owners Stefano and 

Lydnsey keep a 1889 farmhouse-

turned hostel/hotel.  With cows

mooing at dawn, roosters crowing,

and guests gathering around the 

kitchen table to swap stories of 

their daily travels, this place was

a fabulous entryway to another 

world.  And all this before we 

tasted the food....as italian as its

owner Stefano, who hails from 

Northern Italy's Lago Maggiore.  Here we are with our homemade fettucine carbonera.  Yum.

Best of all, though its quite hard to claim a best of anything here, as everything seemed better than the next, was perhaps the conversations with fellow travelers from all over the world.  Holland, England, Germany, Switzerland, and even a few folks from the US.  We learned by swapping stories and exchanging cultural norms, and delighted in the tales and perspectives of faraway lands.