Mara Vorhees Travel Blog

Travel with Twins

2010-12-04T18:32:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - One week from today, we will be on an airplane, flying down to Central America to update the Lonely Planet guide to Belize. When I say "we", I mean the whole family - me, husband, babies and two grandparents (built-in babysitters). It's a sort of experiment to see if I can be a mother and a travel writer at the same time. Stay tuned!

Welcome Babies

2010-05-11T14:05:00.000-07:00

Boston, Mass - I am thrilled to announce the arrival of my baby boys:

Shay Lydon Easter
and
Van Vorhees Easter

As a result, this blog is on hiatus until we start traveling!

May Day May Day

2010-05-01T10:57:00.000-07:00

Jamaica Plain, Mass - Regular readers may recall that one of my Top Nine Things to Come Home To is the lilac trees blooming in May. 'Tis the season! Although I do enjoy the two lilacs abloom in my backyard, it's nothing compared to the blaze of 422 plants that are busting out in all shades of purple and white at the Arnold Arboretum.

Lilac Sunday at the arboretum is this Sunday, May 9, but the purple pretties are already in full bloom. If you want to see (and smell) the 200 different kinds of lilacs, go now - it's peak season!

Lilac Sunday will be filled with festivities, including living music and dance, crafts and activities for kids, and tours of the lilacs. Plus, it's the only time you can have a picnic in the park.

Patriot's Day

2010-04-19T10:19:00.000-07:00

Lexington, Mass - The Patriots' Day celebration in Massachusetts starts early - really early. As dawn breaks, local history buffs are assembled on the Lexington village green, some decked out in `Redcoats' while others sport the scruffy attire of Minutemen, firearms in hand, ready to re-enact the fateful battle that kicked off the War for American Independence.

Massachusetts is one of only two states in the USA that recognizes Patriots' Day as a public holiday, but the Commonwealth takes it seriously. This is where the action went down on April 19, 1775. And this is where it continues to go down every year on the third Monday of April.

I was there before daybreak - along with hundreds of other eager spectators. (Note to self: next time bring a ladder.) The Minutemen hung around near Buckman Tavern and on the green, while the British Regulars assembled in a nearby parking lot. Apparently they don't make them re-enact the walk all the way from Boston.

As the sun rose, the bell rang out from the Old Belfry, and the colonial militia assembled on the green to await the arrival of the Regulars. Back in 1775, the militia men had been warned by Paul Revere, William Dawes and Samuel Prescott, who set out from Boston the night before to spread the word. So when 700 British Regulars marched up to Lexington Green just after daybreak on April 19, they found Capt John Parker's company of 77 Minutemen lined up in formation to meet them. (Today, the Brits are represented in decidedly fewer numbers.)

The famous instructions from Capt Parker were the following: "Stand your ground; don't fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here."

But Capt Parker was a reasonable man. When he saw how badly outnumbered were his ranks, he ordered his men to disperse peaceably. Before they could do so, the Regulars were charging forward, shouting "Huzzah!" to confuse and disarm their opponents. It worked... some of the militia men dispersed, some stayed put, some laid down their arms, some did not. As a spectator, even I was confused - and I knew what was supposed to happen! (In all fairness to me, I couldn't really see.)

Here's where history is a mystery. In the midst of the confusion, a shot rang out - from which side nobody knows. During the re-enactment, the shot was fired from a window of Buckman Tavern, but other accounts state it came from behind a wall or a hedge. That one shot triggered others, and bayonettes, and soon eight Minutemen lay dead on the green, with 10 others wounded.

Afterwards, the British soldiers continued to nearby Concord, where growing numbers of Minutemen were able to fight them back - and indeed chased them all the way back to Boston. (The Battle of Concord is also re-enacted every year on the Saturday before Patriot's Day.) But the skirmish on Lexington Green was the first organized, armed resistance to British rule in a colonial town.

Back in Lexington in 2010, as the British troops marched off down the road, the Minuteman re-enactors came out of character and the crowds began to filter across the green, heading to Starbucks to reload on caffeine. The battle was lost, but the war would be won. It was still not even 7am, and the rest of the day would filled with pancake breakfasts and parades.

Happy Birthday, Mrs Jack

2010-04-14T10:58:00.000-07:00

Boston, Mass - As I was researching the Boston City Guide last year, I did a series of posts on Cool Boston Ladies, which included Anne Hutchinson and Mary Baker Eddy. It was a good idea, but sorely incomplete. How in the Hub could I do a series entitled "Cool Boston Ladies" and leave out Isabella Stewart Gardner?

A prominent member of Victorian-era society, this lover of art, music, gardens, travel and baseball dedicated her life to pursuing her passions - and sharing them with others. She did so by building a Venetian-style palazzo right here in Boston, filling it with priceless artwork that she had acquired on her worldwide travels, decking the courtyard with seasonal blooms, and welcoming the public into her home for concerts, exhibits and other gala affairs.

(Okay, there was no baseball at Fenway Court - as her palazzo was called - but she often donned her Red Sox hat and made her way over to Fenway Park to support the Olde Towne Team.)

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is still an exquisite way to spend a day (or an evening). I was there a few days ago to admire the Hanging Nisturtiums. Mrs Gardner's favorite flower, these orange blooms drape the courtyard every April in honor of her birthday. (She was born 170 years ago today.) The four-storey garden courtyard is always an oasis, but it was absolutly stunning in its birthday suit.

This is the first time I have been to the museum since my stint in Venice, so I was thrilled to discover how the palazzo reflects Mrs Gardner's love for La Serenissima. From the outside, the building is rather plain, so you forget that the arcaded interior evokes the Doge's Palace on the Grand Canal.

Even her art collection hints at her affinity for the Italian Renaissance. Truthfully, the artwork spans the globe, especially sculpture from Ancient Rome and Greece (the ultimate in garden art), extensive paintings by Dutch and Italian masters, and a few prominent pieces by American artists (who were her acquaintances) Sargent and Whistler. But it's clear that the art of the Renaissance captured Mrs Gardner's heart and soul - as evidenced by pieces by Giotto, Botticelli, Titian and Raphael.

Aside from the art and architecture (and music and flowers, etc etc) the Gardner Museum is all the more enticing as it is surrounded by intrigue. Exactly 20 years ago, the museum was the setting for a legendary art heist. On March 18, 1990, two thieves disguised as police officers tricked the security guards and left with nearly $200 million worth of artwork. The most famous painting stolen was Vermeer's The Concert, but the loot also included three works by Rembrandt, and others by Manet and Degas, not to mention French and Chinese artifacts. The crime was never solved.

Mrs Gardner's will stipulated that the collection remain exactly as it was at the time of her death. So the walls where these paintings hung remain barren, even today. Meanwhile, the Gardner Museum continues to offer a $5 million reward for information leading to the recovery of the artwork. So if you have any leads, please let me know.

The palazzo at Fenway Court has remained almost exactly the same since its opening in 1903. Even after Mrs Gardner died in 1924, the museum continued to display her artwork and host concerts just as it had during her life, according to her will. Her living quarters on the top floor were converted into administration, but little else changed.

Until now.

It's not evident from the inside, but the Gardner Museum has undertaken an enormous expansion project, knocking down the old carriage house to make way for a striking modern addition designed by Renzo Piano. It's obviously a controversial move, evoking protests from the Fenway neighborhood association and other traditionalists. But the museum administration feels the expansion is necessary to maintain the vibrancy of the institution.

Apparently the collection will remain intact, and the new space will be used for temporary exhibition space, concert hall, cafe and office space. The Massachusetts Supreme Court approved the deviation from the will, so the expansion is moving rapidly forward.

The rennovation is scheduled to be completed in 2012. So visit the palazzo now, so you can say you remember what it was like back in Mrs Gardner's day.

Photos courtesy of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

Bleacher Bar

2010-04-07T12:39:00.000-07:00

Boston, Mass - As of Sunday, the action is underway at Fenway Park. Even if you can't get tickets to the big game, you can still get a peek inside America's oldest baseball park.

As of last year, Fenway opened a bar underneath the bleachers - the aptly named Bleacher Bar. It's accessible from Lansdowne Street, which means you don't need a ticket to get inside. And it has a big window looking out over centerfield (go Jacoby, baby!)

There are a few tables perched right in front of the window, so you could actually watch (part of) a game here. But the Bleacher Bar does not take reservations, so you have to get your name on a list, which starts forming around 5:00 or 5:30pm on game days. Even then, there is no guarantee you'll get the table of your choice (and seating is limited to 45 minutes anyway). The bar area is pretty big, with plenty of TVs so you won't miss any of the action.

If you dread the crowds, it's almost better to come by the Bleacher Bar when the Sox are away, when the window is open and a sweet breeze comes in straight off the field. Or, stop by in the late afternoon on game day, when you might catch some of the players warming up. When I came for lunch today, there was some stirring in the bullpen and Daisuke Matsuzaka came out to loosen up his arm.

Looking good, Dice-K, but there's no word when he'll be off the DL and back on the mound.

Fiery Pool

2010-04-03T12:31:00.000-07:00

Salem, Mass - I have the distinct pleasure of writing about a wide variety of destinations. I started this gig as a Russophile, but I have since become the go-to girl for Boston and New England, and I'm doing my best to cultivate my expertise of more tropical destinations like Belize and Brazil.

It's not immediately clear what these places have in common, but I suppose that's part of the fun.

Every once in a while, my worlds collide. That's what happened today when I was in Salem, Massachusetts, researching the new edition of LP's guide to New England. Salem has many highlights, one of which is the excellent Peabody Essex Museum. And right now, the PEM is hosting a pretty awesome exhibit on the "Maya and the Mythic Sea".

The ancient Maya thrived throughout Central America from about 2000BC to AD1500. Their realm extended across Mexico, Guatemala and - drum roll - Belize. One of the thrills of visiting Belize today is exploring the myriad mysterious ruins left behind by this great civilization. Click to read about my experiences at Tikal in Guatemala and various sites in Belize.

The PEM exhibit compiles artefacts from all across the region, the common theme being that they all offer insights on the Maya connection with water and the sea. So you've got the figurine of the Jaguar God of the Underworld riding a crocodile; a Maya deity peeking out from through the toothy grin of a spiny lobster; many depictions of the rain god Chaahk; and (my personal favorite) a 10-pound jade sculpture of the head of the Sun God, which was excavated at Altun Ha in Belize.

The exhibit includes a few stelae, or stone carvings, which are fiberglass reproductions of the carvings at temples and tombs in Belize and elsewhere. (Truthfully, the stelae on display on site in Belize are also fiberglass reproductions, since the original pieces have been removed to protect them from the elements.)

But most of these artefacts are not on display anywhere in Belize. Maybe there are museums in Mexico or Guatemala, but Belize has no facility to protect and present these ancient, intriguing pieces. So the PEM exhibit is a real treat.

So there you have it... a little piece of Belize in New England. (Since that's the closest I'm going to get to Belize this year, I'd best enjoy it!)

Mt Etna Man

2010-04-01T12:17:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - In case anybody is wondering about the new photo on my homepage, let me introduce you to Mt Etna Man.

This wizened face is carved from a giant piece of Etna lava - no joke. We bought it from the artist when we were in Sicily two years ago. He was working along the road, as we drove up to the base of the mountain.

It was a bit of a debacle to get him back to Venice. We tried to carry him on the airplane in a backpack, but security was very suspicious. Nonetheless, they couldn't really come up with any reason why he might be dangerous. Finally, they just said it was too heavy and he would have to be checked. And that was that.

I went running through the airport to have him wrapped up in bubble wrap and then abandoned him at the check-in counter (as per staff instructions), despite the fact that nobody was there to accept baggage.

Unfortunately, (of course) he did not make it onto our flight. Fortunately, he showed up in Venice a few days later. Unfortunately, he was in two pieces, which explains the unsightly scar across his cheek. But never mind, he still makes a delightful addition to the garden.

This is the first time in years that I am home in April, so I am really enjoying witnessing the garden come back to life. The forsythia is a little spotty, but the tulips and daffodils are marvelous. I didn't even know I had daffodils back there!

All the nice weather and spring blooms reminds me: it's just about spritz season!

New England Authors - 3rd in a series

2010-03-24T13:12:00.000-07:00

New Bedford, Mass - New Bedford is trying really hard to establish itself as a tourist destination. Similar to Lowell, it has been declared a National Historic Park, as a former capital of the whaling industry. It does contain a wealth of extravagant neoclassical architecture from the early 19th century, as well as the cool Whaling Museum, featuring the massive skeleton of a blue whale. Now, there is a small Ocean Explorium with a few exhibits of living sea creatures too.

All this stuff is entertaining enough, but what really puts New Bedford on the map is its role in Moby-Dick. Herman Melville has been commended, not only for his literary genius but also for his indepth knowledge of the whaling industry. No big surprise - Melville knew so much about it because he spent 18 months on the whaling ship Acushnet, which set sail from this very port in 1841. "A whale-ship was my Yale College and my Harvard," he wrote years later.

I have to admit that I have not read Moby-Dick (not yet, anyway), but the first part of the novel vividly describes the New Bedford that we can still see today - the working waterfront, the Customs House, the boarding houses. The fancy homes that are set back from the waterfront were built by prosperous whaling merchants. "Yes," Melville wrote, "all these brave houses and flowery gardens came from the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian Oceans. One and all, they were harpooned and dragged up hither from the bottom of the sea."

The most evocative building in downtown New Bedford is the Seamen's Bethel, a small chapel that was built in 1832 by the Society for the Moral Improvement of Seamen. The idea was that this chapel would provide a respite "free from the demoralizing influences to which sailors are too often exposed."

In Moby-Dick, Melville wrote "[Few] are the moody fishermen, shortly bound for the Indian Ocean or Pacific, who fail to make a Sunday visit to the spot." With its pulpit shaped like the bow of a ship, the church is still open for services and special occasions.

This is also where Melville fans congregate for the Moby Dick Marathon, a non-stop reading of the hefty tome. The annual January-3rd event comemmorates the departure of the Acushnet from New Bedford and it takes about 25 hours. Just in case you don't get around to reading the novel yourself... here's another option.

Fall River

2010-03-18T18:00:00.000-07:00

Fall River, Mass - Fall River may seem an unlikely destination, but it does have two things: Battleship Cove and Lizzie Borden.

A collection of war ships and the house of a murderess. Not exactly your typical tourist attractions.

Battleship Cove. I enjoyed this place way more than I expected to. The namesake battleship is the mighty USS Massachusetts and she is humongous. This hulk of a craft survived 35 battles in WWII and gunned down almost 40 aircraft, never losing a man in combat. Needless to say, nobody on board this beaut ever whined "You sank my battleship!"

While the USS Massachusetts is indeed impressive, it was not my favorite part of Battleship Cove. That would be the submarine Lionfish. Talk about claustrophobia!

These are only two of the eight historic ships at Battleship Cove. The USS Joseph P Kennedy Jr, named for President John F Kennedy's older brother, did battle in the Korean and Vietnam Wars and is now a museum. There are also two Patrol Torpedo (PT) boats, a landing craft, a Japanese attack boat and other craft. The ships are wide open for exploration, making this a great destination for kids.

Lizzie Borden. Fall River's favourite son (or daughter, rather) is indeed an assumed murderess. She is so well known thanks in part to the popular children's rhyme:

Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother forty whacks.
And when she saw what she had done
She gave her father forty-one.

The rhyme is just one of many inconsistencies in the account of what happened on that fateful night in 1892. Actually, Abby Borden was assaulted with 18 blows to the head with a hatchet, while Andrew Borden received 11. Ouch.

Although Lizzie Borden was acquitted of this heinous crime, her story was rife with contradictions. That nobody else was ever accused was enough indication for Lizzie Borden to go down in popular history as America's most famous murderess.

Today, the Greek Revival Borden House in Fall River is - you guessed it - a Bed & Breakfast. Decked out with period furnishings and decor, the eight rooms are named for the family members that actually stayed there. It's artfully and accurately remodeled, which makes it all the creepier. If you don't care to spend the night in the room where Abby Borden was found murdered, you can just come for a tour.

New England Authors - 2nd in a series

2010-03-12T15:00:00.000-08:00

Lowell, Mass - Enough about Emerson and Thoreau and Alcott and all those 19th-century idealists out in Concord.

New England is also the birthplace of Beat Generation writer Jack Kerouac, and today is his birthday. I know this because a few days ago I was in Lowell, Mass, where Kerouac was born in 1922.

Nobody would put Kerouac in the same category as those other New England writers, yet he credits them (specifically Whitman and Thoreau, among others) with influencing his philosophy and writing. According to the Lowell Historic Society, "he and his contemporaries were restless seekers after the meaning of life," as were his predecessors. Like the Transcendentalists, he hung onto his religious roots (Roman Catholic in Kerouac's case), but he also explored other belief systems (specifically Buddhism, which he incorporated into his life).

This spiritual theme is reflected by the Kerouac Commemorative, a sort of monument in a small park in the center of Lowell. The granite columns are inscribed with excerpts from Kerouac's writings, while their arrangement draws on Catholic and Buddhist symbols.

Kerouac is most famous for his free-spirited novel On the Road, but many of his earlier novels are set in Lowell and based on his experiences growing up here. The Town & the City depicts the tension caused by "the universal human need for both roots and wings." The Town refers to Kerouac's hometown, Lowell (called Galloway in the book), while the City refers to New York City, the ultimate symbol of adventure and exploration.

Lowell is packed with Kerouac's formative places, from the house in Centralville, where he was born; to Lowell High School, where he began to write (and setting for his novel Maggie Cassidy); to the offices of the Lowell Sun, where he was a sports reporter; etc etc.

After living in New York, Kerouac returned to Lowell with his wife Stella Sampas. He is buried in the Sampas family plot at Edson Cemetery, just south of Lowell center.

The Lowell Historical Society publishes an excellent "Map & Guide to Kerouac's Hometown", which features all of these sites. It's called Lowell: Where the Road Begins, and it's available at the NPS office.

If you're really into Kerouac, head to Lowell one year from today to celebrate Jack's 89th birthday. Or, even better, show up for Lowell Celebrates Kerouac, a literary festival held the first weekend in October.

New England Authors - 1st in a series

2010-03-02T12:37:00.000-08:00

Concord, Mass - Appropriately enough, the selection of my book club this month was Geraldine Brooks' Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, March. It is a Civil War story, but flashbacks and other parts of the novel take place in Concord, Mass.

Perfect timing, as I am about to start my research on the update of Lonely Planet's guide to New England.

March is so called because it revolves around the character of Mr March, the absentee father in Louisa May Alcott's classic novel Little Women. Brooks incorporates characters and plot elements from Alcott's book, as well as historical events from the life of Amos Bronson Alcott (Louisa May's real-life father, who was a philosopher, writer and historic figure in his own right).

Amos Bronson Alcott raised his family in Concord, and Little Women is set here. In fact, you can visit the Alcott family homestead, also known as Orchard House, which is where Louisa May wrote her masterpiece. Up the road in Harvard, Mass, you can also visit Fruitlands, the idyllic spot where the young Bronson attempted to establish a self-sufficient utopian community.

Bronson ran in the literary circle that included Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, both of whom lived in Concord, and both of whom are characters in Brooks' book. All of these individuals live large in New England lore (not to mention Unitarian-Universalist theology, which was profoundly influenced by their Transcendentalist teachings).

Of course I have read Little Women, as well as visiting Alcott's house and Emerson's house and Walden Pond. So it was a real treat to read Brooks' clever and creative attempt to weave all of these elements together. The end result is a cohesive and compelling story for the one character who would otherwise remain a mystery.

Don't get me wrong - March is a work of fiction, and it's not 100% historically accurate. But Brooks' made-up story is all the more intriguing because it incorporates places and characters and historical events that are so familiar to us.

Mr March is missing from Little Women because he is off fighting in the Civil War. As readers, we don't know much more than that. In March, he is a middle-aged minister who is committed to the cause of abolitionism, so he joins the Union army - first as a chaplain for the soldiers, and later as a teacher for freed slaves.

Aside from the New England connection, March is a compelling read for its portrayal of a fervent idealist who is nonetheless deeply flawed. Mr March always seems to have the best of intentions - to do the right thing, the moral thing - yet time and time again he comes up short, as a result of his lack of understanding or his lack of courage. This is true of his dealings with the soldiers, with his students and - most dramatically - with his family. In this way, his character is strikingly, disturbingly real.

Nor does Brooks spare us the gory details of the Civil War. March is a first-hand witness to the brutality of slavery, combat, torture, treason and guerilla warfare... and so are we the readers. March had set out as a true-believer, certain that he is on the right side of history, supporting a moral cause. But as events unfold, he must grapple with the realization that he can do very little to promote it. And we are left to wonder if the concept of "just war" is anything more than an oxymoron.

March asks tough questions: what is the point of doing "the right thing" if it doesn't actually do any good? Is it in fact the right thing? And how can one persevere when doing the right thing does not achieve the intended result?

Brooks never answers these questions, but leaves us to mull them over. "You go on," March laments. "You set one foot in front of the other, and if a thin voice cries out, somewhere behind you, you pretend not to hear, and keep going." It's a pang we all have felt at one time or another.

Upon completion of March, I was doing a little research, and I came across this quote from Louisa May Alcott. It expresses the same frustration, but with a tinge more optimism (making it a nice note to end on):

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.

Cycling the Elephant Highway

2010-02-24T14:34:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - It's hard to believe that only one year ago, I was counting down to my departure to Southern Africa, where I would cycle almost 1000 miles from Victoria Falls to Windhoek, Namibia.

Needless to say, my life has changed a lot in the past year. I haven't been on my bike since August, due to my pregnant state. Instead of watching lions and leopards prowling about the Okavango Delta, I am entertained by the antics of my own wild cats, Ozzie and Lynx.

And although I am about to start research on the updated guide to New England, there are no plans for travel to more exotic destinations in my foreseeable future.

Nevermind, other adventures await. In the meantime, my reminiscence is aided by two exciting developments:

The new guide to Botswana & Namibia is out, and it features my blurb about cycling the Elephant Highway. Read it here.
Lonely Planet TV has released a series of videos - one for each leg of the Tour d'Afrique. Follow my team member Tom Hall and me, as we pedal across Botswana & Namibia (below), or click here to see the other videos.

Carnival!

2010-02-14T13:30:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - I couldn't go to Venice to celebrate Carnevale this year, so I decided to bring Venice to Somerville. In honor of Shrove Tuesday (better known as "Fat Tuesday", or Mardi Gras), we hosted a Venetian Carnival dinner party, complete with music, masks and plenty of food and wine.

To start, I offered a smattering of cicchetti, which is basically the Italian version of tapas, served with two quintessential Venetian cocktails: the Spritz and the Bellini. My guests seemed to prefer the Bellini, which is a sweet fruity cocktail, made with three parts Prosecco and one part peach puree. This popular drink was invented at Venice's most famous watering hole, Harry's Bar, and named after the 15th-century Venetian painter.

The Bellini - like the bar - is preferred by Americans in Venice, but the Italians' drink of choice is the Spritz. This is not the first time I have written about this delightfully bitter aperetif: indeed it was included on the list of Top Ten Things to Miss about Life in Venice. In case you forgot, it is one part Prosecco and one part fizzy water, with a shot of bitters (eg, Campari), topped with a lemon and an olive or two. We spent many a fine spring evening sitting in a cafe overlooking the Grand Canal, sipping this fizzy orange drink. Come to think of it, we have spent many of fine summer evening sitting in the backyard of the pink house sipping this fizzy orange drink.

The first of my cichetti was a close replica of sarde in saor, or marinated sardines, a very traditional Venetian dish. Unfortunately, it's not so easy to find fresh sardines around here. The recipe I used suggested substituting sole filets, which were also not available at my local fish market. The guy behind the counter said the next best thing would be flounder, which is nothing like sardines, but nevermind... they held up very well to the onions and white wine marinade.

Next came Venetian shrimp and scallops in a saffron tomato sauce. I have to admit that this recipe came from Rachel Ray, and I'm not sure how authentically Venetian is really is. But it sure was good.

After cocktail hour, I invited the guests to the table for the first course, which is another decadence that was allegedly created by the inventive folks at Harry's Bar (and named after another Venetian painter). This is basically raw meat. If you appreciate a nice rare steak, you'll love carpaccio, which is seared only slightly and sliced super thin. We ate this often in Venice - normally served atop fresh arugula and topped with olive oil and parmesan. I found a recipe that fancied it up a bit, topping it with a salsa of navel oranges and kalamata olives. It was a show-stopper. Really, my guests devoured it, and so did I (despite the prohibition on rare meat in my pregnant state).

Finally, my main course was roasted sea bass with potatoes and olives (as per this recipe), served with a side of risi e bisi, or risotto and peas (as per this recipe). The wine was a pinot grigio from the region of Friuli, just northeast of Venice.

Of course, I am petrified to filet my own fish, so I bought the sea bass filet and altered the recipe accordingly. It's simple to prepare, but sea bass is invariably buttery and succulent. The tomatoes and olives effectively cut this richness a bit - it was divine.

The risi e bisi was practically the only dish that I was able to prepare in advance. As such, in the flurry of cooking and serving this multi-course feast, I completely forgot about it until after everyone was done with their fish! But my guests still wanted to try this traditional Veneto stew, so I served it afterwards, inadvertently adding a fifth course. Woops.

After dinner, we brought out the vin santo, a delicious dessert wine that we brought back from Tuscany. Okay, it's not really Venetian, but we used to drink it when we were in Venice. Plus, it goes great with fritole, the traditional Carnival dessert. These miniature pastries are basically fried dough, sprinkled with powdered sugar, so you can't really go wrong. But the addition of raisins, pine nuts and grappa (or rum, in this case) enrichen the flavor. My guests were swooning (and stuffed).

Over dessert, we watched Mask Maker, Mask Maker, the audition video that I made in Venice, and looked at our photos from Carnival in Venice. The evening brought back some wonderful memories of La Serenissima!

Click here to re-read my travel blog from Venice.

Wildlife Kingdom

2010-02-06T13:22:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - Look who came to visit us in the backyard of the pink house. Coopy the cooper's hawk.

My cat was glued to the window, clearly aching to get outside and stalk this beautiful creature. I'm sure she would have made a delicious lunch (the cat, that is).

Props to Union Square

2010-02-01T12:15:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - How long have we been saying that our neighborhood - Union Square - is "up-and-coming"? Approximately nine years, since we moved in.

Yes, that does raise a question about how long a place has to "come up" before it actually arrives somewhere. But never mind, roday The Metro Boston featured Union Square on the front page, calling it "a welcoming place for young, creative entrepreneurs."

The article features some of our coolest local places... The Sherman Cafe & Market started as a cozy cafe with free wifi and great egg salad sandwiches, but recently expanded to include a little store selling local produce, Vermont cheeses and other locally-produced delicacies. OPEN Bicycle is a crazy-concept - a bike shop and an art gallery all in one. OPEN Bicycle was also featured in the Boston Globe Magazine as one of the best new businesses in metro Boston. Go biker-artists!

Read more about up-and-coming Union Square...

Come Sail Away

2010-01-19T19:44:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - I'm not normally one to let the weather get me down. But when the snow and sleet are accompanied by a Republican upset in the special US Senate election, that's downright depressing.

Fortunately, I've got something to lift everybody's spirits - and whisk us away to warmer climes, at least for a minute or two.

I had to temporarily remove my video of the ICA Boston (from my last post): apparently we don't have all the legal issues sorted yet. In the meantime, I have this clip from Down Under, featuring your favorite travel writer sailing the Whitsunday Islands. Come sail away with me!

Contemplating the contemporary, the controversial and the downright confusing

2010-01-14T15:05:00.000-08:00

Boston, Mass - Lonely Planet TV has a new video, this one featuring yours truly at the ICA Boston!

It is rather short. I actually provided loads of footage, much of it shot at the Shepard Fairey exhibit that got so much attention last year. Unfortunately, most of it could not be included, due to copywright issues. (Ironic, since we all know how Shepard Fairey feels about taking artistic license in using other peoples' images.) If you are interested, you can click here to read more about that exhibit.

In the meantime, I have used this opportunity to revamp my page about Boston and New England, which will show off the new video and the new Boston City Guide and Boston Encounter. Check it out!

Grand Union in Union Square

2010-01-01T12:35:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - Everybody knows about the Boston Tea Party and the Battle of Bunker Hill, but what about the little piece of Revolutionary history that played out on New Years Day, right here in Somerville?

On January 1, 1776, George Washington ordered the Grand Union flag be flown from a 76ft mast atop Prospect Hill. Bearing 13 stripes representing the united colonies with the crosses of St Andrew in the corner, it is considered the first American flag and this is the first time it was so proudly waved.

The flag flew over Prospect Hill until British troops were driven out of the city; and it served as the national flag until the new nation officially adoped the Stars and Stripes the following year.

Nowadays, the city of Somerville hosts a re-enactment every year on New Years Day. George Washington prances in on his horse and orders the flag to be raised, after which the Charlestown Militia fires their muskets. Somerville was part of Charlestown in the early years, so it's all historically accurate, except maybe George Washington's Boston accent.

This year, the ceremony was accompanied by plenty of speeches, a little Woodie Guthrie and coffee and donuts for everyone. (That part might not be historically accurate either.)

Afterwards, the granite tower (built in 1903 to commemorate the site's hitorical significance) is open for anyone who wants to climb to the top. You can see why the patriots chose this spot to wave their flag, as the tall tower gives a spectacular panorama across Cambridge, Charlestown and Boston.

Ringing in 2010 in 1970s style

2009-12-31T23:12:00.000-08:00

Cambridge, Mass - If you haven't seen the Donkey Show at the American Repertory Theater, you should go see it. If possible, you should see it on New Year's Eve, but you may have missed your chance to do that. But it doesn't matter, just to see it. And be prepared to laugh, to shudder, to gawk, to sing, to dance, to celebrate.

Here is a partial list of elements that get incorporated into the Donkey Show:

Roller skating
Disco dancing
Gender bending
Interactive theater (meaning you - the audience - can talk with the actors and dance on stage)
Glitter
Bestiality
Shakespeare (lest anybody think this isn't high-minded stuff)
Lots and lots of music that you remember and love, even though you thought you'd rather forget it

It is A Midsummer Night's Dream set in a disco in the 1970s. And yes, you'd be wise to reread (or at least review the plot of) the play before attending the show. Then put on your poyester and your platform shoes, and get ready to par-tay.

Really, the Donkey Show cannot be described, it must be experienced. But here is a little video of a promo that the actors did over the summer in Harvard Square. Put this in a dark theater and turn up the volume... that gives you an idea...

Happy New Year, one and all. Here's to the passing of another decade that - one day - we will look back on with derision and delight. Bring on the twenty-tens.

Next Adventure

2009-12-28T05:23:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - Whenever there is a lull in conversation, people tend to ask me things like "So, what's your next adventure?" or "What's your next big trip?"

Recently, this has created a little bit of an awkward situation for me, as there is no "big trip" in my foreseeable future. I will not be celebrating Carnival on the beaches of Brazil this winter, as I originally thought. In fact, I have no travel plans for the entirety of 2010. (I figured out that this will be the longest period of time that I will be in my own country without leaving since 1995.)

Ladies and gents, for 2010 I have a different kind of adventure planned: motherhood. Come May, the pink house will have not one but TWO new residents. Not felines this time, but humans (hopefully). Twins.

Regular readers can look forward to posts about teaching my children to count in Polish and hiking through the rainforest with kids on my back (or maybe just reviews of children's museums), as I attempt to combine my travel writing career with motherhood. Wish me luck.

Quiet

2009-12-14T18:46:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - Has anybody been wondering where I've been? I know it's been awfully quiet for the last few weeks - and not just in the blogosphere. I am just back from a 10-day Vipassana meditation course, where I engaged in "Noble Silence" for the entire period. No talking, no non-vocal communication, no passing of notes. AND no music, reading or writing. That's quiet.

The course was remarkably challenging in ways that I did not predict. I couldn't help but compare it to my 10-day bikeride across Botswana and Namibia that I took earlier this year. For the bikeride, I expected a big physical challenge, but it ended up being just as much of a mental challenge - psyching myself to keep going and finding ways to occupy my mind over hours and hours of pedaling. For the medition, I expected a big mental challenge, but it ended up being just as much of a physical challenge. Who knew it would be so tough to sit still for 10 hours a day? (You read correctly: 10 hours of meditation per day. Ouch.)

In both cases, I had a lot of time to think. Eg, Why can't you take a normal vacation? You could be relaxing on a beach drinking fruity cocktails right now, but no...

And in the end, they were both worthwhile and rewarding experiences.

In this case, I learned a LOT about this particular form of meditation - the same one that the Buddha taught all around India 25 centuries ago. I learned about the philosophy behind the practice, and also experienced how it works.

For me, the goals of meditation are (a) to train my mind so I have more focus and more control over how I'm spending my mental energy; (b) more specifically, to be more present, more aware of what is happening in and around me at this very moment, instead of dwelling on the past or daydreaming about the future.

Vipassana is a specific method of meditation that focuses on the breath and the sensations in the body. The meditator observes the sensations in the body - whether pain or pleasure, discomfort or delight - without reacting. Just observe with the knowledge that each and every sensation has the same essential characteristic: it is temporary; it will soon pass. The idea is that this practice trains the meditator to go through life with the same balance and equanimity, observing without reacting, appreciative of the present moment and comfortable in the knowledge that change is constant.

Of course, the 10-day instruction is only the most basic introduction to Vipassana. In order to see the method in action, one must make this a life practice. But the course gives a pretty good taste: making one realize how wild the mind is, drifting off in every direction whenever given free reign; making apparent the subtle vibrations and sensations in our bodies that we are normally oblivious to; demonstrating that the pains and itches and other discomforts do eventually go away if you just sit still and observe them.

Unfortunately, I did not record these experiences as they were taking place, as we were not permitted to read or write during the course. But I'm hoping to post a sort of retroactive day-by-day account (or maybe two or three days at a time) to share what happens when one sits in a dark room for 10 hours a day times 10 days. Stay tuned...

Day 0
Day 1
Day 4: Vipassana Day
Day 6
Day 8
Day 10: Metta Day

VMC Day 10: Metta Day

2009-12-12T08:09:00.000-08:00

Posted retrospectively.

Shelburne, Mass - There was a palpable feeling of excitement in the air at VMC, as we awoke for our morning meditation session. Although we started at 4:30am and proceeded to breakfast in silence, as per usual, we knew that this was the last day.

During the morning group meditation, we would learn a new form of meditation, Metta. And after that, Noble Silence would be over. "Then noble chatter begins," Goenka had said in the Dhamma Discourse.

Metta, or "loving kindness", is a practice used by Buddhists of all strains. I have been exposed to this practice in various forms at my Unitarian-Universalist church, as well as in other books and teachings.

Traditionally, it starts with directing loving kindness toward one's self, then toward one's family, friends and community. The next step (the hard one) involves sending metta toward one's enemies. In some practices, the meditator is encouraged to consider a specific person, like the gossipy neighbor you can't stand or George W Bush, which is much more difficult than thinking about enemies in general. Then the circle expands even wider, as you send out this positive energy out to the whole world, or all beings.

As we learned about this practice on the final day of our course at VMC, I was surprised that there was no specific procedure for this practice (surprising, since our instructions for Vipassana had been so precise). Even my description above - with four or five specific thought targets - is something that I learned in my previous experiences, not at VMC. Here, we just sat in the glow of our good will while Goenka recited chants in a language we could not understand. He encouraged us to use this practice for a few minutes at the end of every meditation sitting. And he asked that we might include him, our teacher, in our thoughts of loving kindness.

Personally, I have found the practice of metta to be a powerful tool, and I was disappointed that we did not get a little more direction. But this is clearly not the main dish in Vipassana meditation - it's just a little dessert, or a "healing balm," as Goenka described it.

Then the session was over. We exited the meditation hall. Everyone knew that Noble Silence was over but nobody knew what to say. Back in the residence hall, a group stood dumbly, examining the schedule for the rest of the day.

The course manager came over and broke the silence, encouraging us to talk to each other. Day 10 was meant to be a transition day, to prepare to leave this monastical setting and re-enter our real lives. We would still sit through two more Group Sittings and one last Dhamma Discourse, but the other sittings were completely optional.

Once the course manager broke the ice, VMC became a hive of chatter, as the students were anxious to share their experiences. Many people had used their time to confront some pretty serious life issues. It's a brave thing to do - sitting in a dark room, surrounded by silence for 10 hours a day, there is no escape. You can imagine that might result in some emotional upheaval.

Many students were still sort of analyzing what we had just come through. Some people called it a life-changing experience. But most people - like myself - recognized that the life changing comes only with years of practice. And I certainly recognized that it would be difficult to incorporate into real life routines (especially as Goenka recommends a minimum of two hours of meditation a day - one in the morning and one in the evening).

One guy who was a passenger in my car (yes, we were even allowed to talk to the boys on Day 10) shared his experience, as this was his fourth 10-day course at VMC. He said that it was only after returning to
VMC as a volunteer - not as a student - that he was able to incorporate a consistent Vipassana practice into his daily life back at home. Anybody is invited to return to VMC to serve after completing one 10-day course as a student. These volunteers still participate in the three daily Group Sittings, but they also cook meals and clean and keep the place running for the students.

This is the highest form of dana, or generosity - selfless service to share with others the good you have acquired at VMC. It is also an opportunity to refresh the teachings of Vipassana, and at the same time put them into practice while interacting with others and trying to get some work done. It was this merging of action and contemplation, my acquaintance explained, that allowed him to make Vipassana a regular part of his life.

Personally, I am grateful for the opportunity to learn about this technique and - even moreso - about the Buddhist philosophy that underscores it. I was a little put off by the emphasis on suffering and misery and Vipassana as the only way to end one's suffering and misery. I am neither suffering nor miserable, so what does Vipassana offer me?

But I do recognize the Noble Truth that my good fortune will not last forever. As we know, everything is always changing. I may not be suffering now, but certainly I will be at some time in the future. And I appreciate the value of approaching these changes with balance and equanimity, trusting that the universe will not throw us anything we cannot handle, and recognizing the impermanence of everything and everybody. Vipassana has provided a tool that I can use to remember all of that.

VMC Day 8

2009-12-10T09:53:00.000-08:00

Posted retrospectively

Shelburne, Mass - The wise teacher SN Goenka did not lie. After two days of feeling this overwhelming rush of energy coursing through my body, on Day 8, it stopped. Nothing was left but aches and pains and itches and very cold feet. I went back to the "part by part" scan of my body, analyzing each body part for some sign of life, some sensation, any sensation.

Considering how intense Days 6 and 7 were, I was a little relieved when I woke up on Day 8 to find that my body had quieted down. On the other hand, meditation became a lot less interesting, and I found my mind wandering off to all corners of the universe.

Of course, the last thing you want to do is develop a "craving" for funky electric currents going through your body, as this would defeat the whole purpose. So I tried to observe what was happening in there without judgement or reaction, "without attraction or aversion" as they say.

The previous night, Goenka had commenced the Dhamma Discourse as he did every night, announcing "Day 7 is over. You have 3 more days left to work..."

"But," he went on, "You have only two days to work seriously, since Noble Silence ends in the morning on Day 10."

This was news to me. Two days! I couldn't believe we had only two days left! I was ecstatic. This process which had seemed endless was suddenly nearing its end.

For better or worse, this revelation really changed my frame of mind. I'm sure it is one of the reasons that "the flow" stopped on Day 8. It certainly affected my ability to concentrate. Instead, I was thinking about what was happening at home in the pink house, and how soon I would be there too.

Suddenly, I had no tolerance for the myriad rules at VMC. The place is littered with signs reminding you to remove your shoes, to limit the length of your shower, to refrain from flushing anything besides toilet paper, to stay within the course boundaries, to walk quietly in the halls, etc etc. "Signs, signs, everywhere are signs, blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind. Do this, don't do that. Can't you read the signs?"

I understand the point of all these signs. Nobody wants to break the silence to tell you what to do or not to do. The course - indeed the entire facility - is designed to ensure a smooth operation of the teaching. But suddenly I couldn't stand it anymore. I also couldn't stand the fact that the entire facility was kept at 60 degrees or the fact that my roommate cleaned the bathroom every other day. (God knows why I had a problem with that - I hadn't cleaned it once.)

I was done. I had sat through 10 hours of meditation each day - diligently - without skipping (except once, when I didn't feel well, but that was a legitimate excuse). I had learned a lot about the philosophy behind Vipassana and appreciated its wisdom. I had no problem sitting with adhitthanna, or strong determination, meaning sitting for one hour without shifting positions. I had experienced "the flow" of energy through the body and observed it without aversion or attraction.

But now I was done. It was time to go home.

Unfortunately, I still had three days left to work.

After observing my wandering mind too many times, I slipped out of the afternoon meditation early and returned to my room. I was in a funk, feeling sorry for myself for being cold and homesick, feeling exasperated for getting myself into such a situation.

I sat on my bed and sniffled. I believe it had been an emotional week for many (it was not unusual to hear crying in the meditation hall). But for me it had been a week of happiness and hopefulness, a little bit of anxiety, a lot of curiosity, and overall equanimity. This was the first time that intense negativity was coming up.

Where's your equanimity now? I wondered.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. I wasn't done yet. I had had a pretty easy time of it so far. But now I finally had the opportunity to put into practice all these teachings that I had been hearing about all week. Here was a real live situation that I knew was temporary. You'll be home in three days, I reminded myself. Chill out and finish what you came here to do. Here was my opportunity to observe without reacting, recognizing the value of what is happening in the present moment and understanding that it will soon pass. Anicca. Anicca.

Next: VMC Day 10

VMC Day 6

2009-12-08T13:26:00.000-08:00

Posted retrospectively.

Shelburne, Mass - Practicers of Vipassana meditation become so attuned to the sensations in the body, that they begin to feel the constant flow of energy that is coursing through our bodies at every moment. This is what happened to me today at VMC.

On Day 5, we continued to practice the technique, scanning the body from head to toe, head to toe. On Day 6, we changed things up by scanning the body first from head to toe, then backwards from toe to head. Head to toe, toe to head. (Best if recited in a thick Indian accent, this little mantra continues to resonate in my head days after the retreat ended.)

At some point, I started to feel a strong wave of vibrations that was following my focal point. Before I knew it, I couldn't even concentrate on a particular part of my body, as the vibrations seemed to be flowing through me uncontrollably, causing my muscles to contract and relax as the wave passed through. I didn't really feel it in my legs and feet, but the core of my body - from shoulders down to my butt - felt like a towel that was rippling slow-mo in the breeze, as if being gently shaken to remove the sand after a day at the beach. My hands and fingers would get hot and tingly. And my face would buzz with light vibrations moving from the crown of my head down to my chin and back.

It felt sort of like getting an all-over-body rub-down with a vibrating massager (or at least what I imagine that might feel like).

So, yeah, it felt pretty good, although I was slightly freaked out by the way the sensations were so strong and so involuntary. I even continued to experience the after affects when I was lying in bed later that night - at one point being awoken from a sound sleep by this rush of energy going through my body.

It was only after these sensations started that Goenka mentioned that we might start to feel "a flow of subtle uniform sensations." So I wasn't making it up. This is what was supposed to be happening. My awareness had become so attuned that I was feeling the movement of the "mass of bubbles" that actually makes up my being. I have to admit that this was a very cool experience - especially to think that this movement is taking place all the time, but we are normally oblivious.

Goenka constantly reminded us to refrain from developing any attachment to or expectation for these sensations, because they would not last forever. Just like the pains and strains, itches and twitches, the good vibrations would also pass.

This was a bit of a relief for me. While the sensations were pleasant - and they certainly kept my attention wrapt - it was also overwhelming, especially this feeling that I had no control over it. But I tried to refrain from reacting, and instead observed - with fascination - the party that was going on in my body.

Next: VMC Day 8

VMC Day 4: Vipassana Day

2009-12-06T05:59:00.000-08:00

Posted retrospectively

Shelburne, Mass - Day 4 is a big day around here. It's Vipassana Day! This is the day we actually learned the method that has the power to eradicate everybody's suffering. As it turns out, those first three days of breathing were just preparation for the main course.

On Vipassana Day, the schedule remained the same, except that everybody had to report to the meditation hall from 2pm until 3:30pm for special instruction in the technique of Vipassana.

Basically, it involves scanning the body from head to toe, focusing on each individual area and feeling any sensations that might be happening at that moment. An itch, a twitch, a pain, a strain, a dryness, a moistness, a pulsing, a vibration, whatever... As soon as we felt something - anything - in one area, we could move on the next, passing slowly but surely from the head, down through the torso and arms, through the butt and into the legs and feet.

There were also a few rules added. Mainly, we were not supposed to react to any of the sensations, just observe them. No scratching that itch. No stretching out the leg to relieve the pain. In fact, starting on Day 4, we were not supposed to shift our position at all during the shorter one-hour Group Sittings. We were supposed to adopt addithana, or "strong posture", for the duration.

The idea is that we can train ourselves to NOT react to every sensation - negative or positive - and eventually it goes away. If this is true in meditation, it is also true in life. Everything is constantly changing, so there is no reason to get all upset about some unpleasant incident, as it will pass.

This new method was a lot more work than just breathing. Personally, I appreciated the extra assignment for the brain and I found it much easier to keep my mind focused on scanning the body and feeling the sensations, which was more interesting than just breathing.

But the addithana was really tough at first, as my feet fell asleep and my knees screamed for relief and my back ached. The first time I completely failed. The next day, I found that as long as I started in a good position with plenty of cushions for support, I only had to shift once during the hour. And by Day 6 I could sit still through the whole hour with only a slight stretching of the back now and then. Oorah.

Meanwhile, I had taken to meditating almost exclusively in the hall (once the outside thing was ruled out). I tried to meditate in my room once a day, but more often than not I just fell asleep, sitting on my cushion against the wall. The gong would sound to summon us back to the hall, and it would rouse me from my unintentional nap. Woops.

We had two hour "rest" periods when there was no meditation required. After breakfast, I usually went back to bed. But after lunch, I always always always went outside to walk around the grounds.

On Day 3, a sky full of snow flakes shimmered in the sunlight. On Day 4, the temperature dropped and I stomped through the snow with my hands thrust deep into my pockets. On Day 5, there was a veritable blizzard. But I insisted on going outside. I needed my Vitamin D; my body craved the revitalizing fresh air. Besides, there was nothing else to do.

Next: VMC Day 6

VMC Day 1

2009-12-03T04:46:00.000-08:00

Posted retrospectively.

Shelburne, Mass - Here is the normal daily schedule at VMC.

4:00 am                 Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am         Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am         Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am         Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am       Meditate in the hall or in your room
11:00-12:00 am     Lunch break
12:00 -1:00 pm     Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm        Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm        Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm        Meditate in the hall or in your own room
5:00-6:00 pm        Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm        Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm        Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm        Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm        Question time in the hall
9:30 pm                 Retire to your own room--Lights out

So there I was on the first day, up and at 'em at 4am. Actually, I quite enjoyed the early morning meditation - slipping into the warm, inviting hall while it was still dark outside and tuning into my mind before it became stimulated by the events and activities of the day. We were not required to be in the meditation hall for that early morning session, so many people just stayed in their rooms. Indeed, I suspect that many people just stayed in their beds. But somehow, I did not have too much trouble getting out of my warm cozy bed, knowing that I was just moving my body to the warm cozy comfort of the hall.

If and when I got sleepy, I would take a short break, get a drink of water, walk around in the cool air outside, then return to the meditation hall. At 6am, the assistant teacher would play a recording of chanting, which (I later read) was supposed to fill the room with love and positive vibes to enable our learning. It actually was an uplifting start to the day.

After breakfast I was back in bed for an hour (nothing else to do), then we all made our way in the meditation hall for our first Group Sitting.

Instructions for Day 1: focus your attention on your breath (always through your nose); when your mind wanders - as it does - don't get frustrated, just gently bring it back to the matter at hand - the breath. This is what we would do all day long.

For the record, things would not change too much on the following days. Our instructions became a little more explicit, eg, narrowing the area on the nose and lip where we were to focus our attention and feel the breath. But for the most part, we spent the first three days just breathing. Breathing.

I definitely got antsy. It's interesting to see where the mind wanders off to, though. I rehashed incidents from the past - as far back as high school and college. I fantasized about my next assignment in Belize (and "fantasize" is the right word, as the book is not even scheduled for an update yet). I had fullout arguments with friends, who I imagined would question my intentions for doing this course. Occasionally, I would realize that I was in the midst of a completely nonsensical dream sequence... Each time, I would patiently pull myself back to the present moment. The breath.

We were required to be in the hall for all four Group Sittings (listed above in red) - and somebody would come find you if you didn't show up. We could not leave the hall during these one-hour sessions. We had a little more leighway with the longer meditation sittings (in blue). So, for example, nobody ever gave us permission to use these 90-minute slots to go back to our rooms and go to bed, but there was nothing to stop us from doing so.

Day 1 happened to be sunny and springlike, and it felt wonderful to emerge from the meditation hall into the fresh air and blue sky after the first Group Sitting. I had the brilliant idea to do my meditation sitting on a rock in the sun, a la Henry David Thoreau. Even when the sun retreated behind the clouds, I stayed outside and did a walking meditation. "This isn't going to be so hard if I can keep this routine up," I thought. In fact, after my first half-day (one-twentieth of the way through the course!) I felt great.

That night we had our first Dhamma Discourse. This is when Goenka addressed us by video, explaining the philosophy behind the practice and giving tips to make sure we stay on course. "Danger number one," he said, "Do not meditate outside. The sunlight, the breeze, the noises... there are too many distractions." Dammit! Maybe this was going to be harder than I thought.

I was disappointed that the discourses took place on a TV screen. I had anticipated having some personal interaction with the teacher (not Goenka, but a teacher), and the video seemed pretty impersonal. That said, even by television, Goenka came across as a wise, compassionate and even funny person. It was clear that he understood the challenges of what we were doing, ie, that it's HARD to sit still for 10 hours a day. He was supportive but unwaivering in his insistence on the importance of following the schedule. "Day one is over. You have nine more left to work..."

Next: VMC Day 4

VMC Day 0

2009-12-02T06:04:00.000-08:00

Posted retrospectively

Shelburne, Mass - I arrived this afternoon in Shelburne - two hours west of Boston - for a 10-day course at the Vipassana Meditation Center. It's a pretty impressive facility, housing and feeding about 80 students, while we sit in silence and meditate for 10 days straight. The students pay nothing; the course is offered for free to ensure that the teaching is available to anybody who is interested. And the entire place is run by volunteers. Most of the individuals that are cooking and serving our meals are meditating in their spare moments, also using this 10-day period as an opportunity for self-reflection and purification.

VMC was founded by SN Goenka, a teacher from Burma. Goenka claims to teach the method that was used and taught by Gotama the Buddha 2500 years ago. Apparently this method was used widely back in the day, but over the years it was changed and adapted, while the "pure" form all but disappeared. Except in Burma. Now Goenka is teaching this method and establishing Vipassana Meditation Centers all over India and around the world.

So who comes to a place like this? I drove out from Boston with two guys. One is a former computer programmer, probably about 30 years old, who is now writing a book about people who give up stable careers to pursue dream jobs and happiness. The other slightly older guy used to be a psychoanalyst, until he quit is practice, rented out his house and set out to see the world. That was six years ago.

Once we arrived, we were segregated by gender (as we would remain for the rest of the week). Amongst the female students I met several freelance writers, a massage therapist, a singer/dancer, an aeiralist (eg, trapeze artist) and at least one itinerant traveler. My roommate was a police officer. Interesting.

Most of the students were white Americans (or Europeans), but there were a handful of Indian and Chinese students as well.

We were allowed to chat until after dinner. Then we were ushered into the dark, warm meditation hall to begin the course. "Noble" silence began. That means no communication whatsoever with other communicators. There was an assistant teacher whom we could address with questions about the meditation technique, and a course manager who attended to any physical needs. But otherwise, students were to act as if we were going through the week in solitude, without interfering with our neighbors.

Everyone had a designated spot in the meditation hall. We made ourselves comfortable with various arrangements of cushions and blankets. Then the lights dimmed and the course began.

We had to take a pledge to follow the Five Precepts, or Sila, during this 10-day course:

- to abstain from killing
- to abstain from stealing
- to abstain from sexual misconduct
- to abstain from speaking lies
- to abstain from intoxicants

It seemed reasonable enough to me.

We also had to pledge that we would honor and respect the teacher SN Goenka, as well as refrain from practicing any other meditation techniques or religious rituals while attending the course. This seemed rather authoritarian, but I guess I can understand how praying the rosary or doing yoga might interfere with getting a true introduction to a new technique. Personally, I don't have any other meditation techniques or religious rituals that I do on a daily basis, so I didn't really have a problem taking the second pledge either.

All of these instructions were coming at us from the teacher Goenka via audio recording. He has this deep gutteral voice, which he uses to chant in Pali, an ancient language of India. When guiding meditiations, he speaks slowly and dramatically with a thick Indian (or Burmese?) accent, repeating phrases to drill them into your consciousness and drawing out the ends of sentences for dramatic effect.

To be honest, I found that part of it pretty weird at first. But anyway, I came here with an open mind. I was willing to go along with it for 10 days, just to hear what Goenka had to say and to experience firsthand how it would work for me.

After that, we retired to our rooms. In silence, police officer roommate and I brushed our teeth and washed our faces and turned off the light and went to bed. We would start the next morning at 4:30am.

Next: VMC Day 1

Bigos Blog

2009-11-29T15:35:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - My faithful readers will remember the story of the cabbage, and my brilliant idea to turn it into sauerkraut. Well, here's where the story ends...

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely loved being a member of the Food Project CSA this summer. It was a joy to receive all of those fresh organic veggies every week. Sometimes it was a challenge to figure out what to do with them, but it led to the discovery of many new kinds of soups, salads and other veggie delights.

One week back in July, my CSA box contained the first head (of what would be many heads) of cabbage. Having just returned from Krakow, Poland, I was inspired to make sauerkraut. The Polish national dish is bigos, a sort of hunter's stew made from a sauerkraut base, with many kinds of meat, mushrooms, etc. mixed in. One tends to eat a lot of bigos when in Poland, but I had never made it myself.

Well, I confess, the sauerkraut thing did not go so well. It's easy enough to make, but I was overly liberal with the salt, meaning I didn't measure, I just dumped it in. It did cause the brine to form as it's supposed to, and underwent the fermentation process. But it was way too salty. And when it seemed to be ready (after about a month), I moved it out of the "Bigos Bucket" and into a tupperware in the fridge. At this point, I dumped out most of the brine, which was a little grody looking. Unfortunately, I think that brine is actually important to the preservation of the sauerkraut. By the time I got around to making my bigos, my sauerkraut was covered with a fine fuzzy mold. Ew.

In the meantime, I had stocked my freezer with many pounds of meat and I really had my heart set on making bigos. Fortunately, I found a jar of sauerkraut in my pantry. I know it's not quite the same - not sure it would meet the approval of the Polish peasant - but it would have to do. At least I checked the label to make sure it was the real deal: sauerkraut made with only two ingredients - cabbage and salt - and no vinegar or other additives.

There is no consensus about exactly how to make bigos, mainly because it's one of those dishes where you can throw in anything that you happen to have in the root cellar (or fridge, if you are not actually a Polish peasant). Did you shoot a wild boar on the hunt last week? What a great addition. Trying to get rid of some Polish sausage left over from last week's cookout? That'll work too. The more the merrier. And remember, this is "hunters' stew" so game is good.

I got some great pointers from this poster on Chowhound, who revealed her mother's secrets. But I did a lot of other research, and came up with my own version of the recipe:

1 lb pork shoulder (or some other stew meat), cut into 1-in cubes
1 large onion, coursely chopped
1 small head fresh cabbage, coursely chopped
4 carrots, thickly sliced
10-12 oz mushrooms (I used baby bellas), halved
1 lb sauerkraut
1 lb sausage (I used elk sausage, which was delish), thickly sliced
1-2 stock cubes
bay leaf
pepper
1 C dry red wine
1 C pitted prunes

Briefly brown your pork cubes over high heat to seal. Set aside.

In a large pot, saute onion, fresh cabbage and carrots in vegetable oil for about 10 minutes. When the volume of the cabbage has reduced by about half, add mushrooms and cook for a few more minutes.

Add sauerkraut and just enough water to saturate the mixture. Mix well and bring to a boil. Lower heat to simmer and add your browned meat and sausage, plus stock cubes, bay leaf and plenty of pepper. Simmer on low heat for about an hour.

After an hour or so, add wine and prunes. Return to simmer.

After simmering a few more hours, I started eating it. I couldn't help it, I was hungry, and it was pretty tasty. But everyone agrees that it tastes better the next day. So if you can wait, store it overnight in a cool place (the poster on Chowhound said "My Babcia would do this on her balcony"). The next day you can bring it back to a simmer and cook for a few more hours, adding water if necessary. Every time you do this - cool and cook - the flavors get more intense and more delightful. Serve with a hardy peasant bread or boiled potatoes.

Bigos is also supposed to good for freezing and eating later. But I wouldn't know. I gave some of it away, and we ate the rest in two sittings.

Incidentally, I still have two heads of cabbage sitting in my fridge leftover from my CSA. Maybe it's time to give that sauerkraut another try.

The First Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T10:25:00.000-08:00

Plymouth, Mass - Sure, it's a repeat. But it's worth repeating, right? In honor of Thanksgiving Day, here is a little history from the Lonely Planet guide to New England:

Plymouth is known for one thing most of all - Pilgrims. And, as all schoolchildren in the US are taught, Pilgrims are known for one thing most of all - Thanksgiving. Maybe two things - Thanksgiving and big-buckled shoes. While footwear styles come and go, Thanksgiving remains a time-honored tradition of feasting and football for American families. But to what extent is today's celebration of Thanksgiving consistent with the Pilgrim forebears?

The first Thanksgiving was held in the early fall of 1621 and lasted for three days. The Pilgrims were thankful, but not for a bountiful harvest. In fact, virtually everything they planted that year failed to come up, except for some native corn. The Pilgrims were thankful simply to be alive. Of the 100 passengers aboard the Mayflower, only half survived the first year in the wilderness. There may have been a wild turkey on the table, but the plates more likely featured venison, lobster and squirrel…mmmmm. There was no pumpkin pie, alas, the Pilgrims did not have any ovens.

True to legend, the Indians were on hand for the first feast. Chief Massasoit of the Wampanoags had no problems with the pathetic Pilgrims, since he had set them up on the land of a rival tribe, the Patuxet. The Patuxet certainly would have objected, but they were wiped out by smallpox a year earlier. The Wampanoags, in fact, provided most of the food. The Pilgrims were really not very good hosts.

There were no Lions or Cowboys, but there were games played that weekend. The Pilgrim men folk competed against the natives in shooting, archery and a colonial crude version of croquet.

Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims pretty much ended there. The fall festival was not repeated in subsequent years. The Pilgrims were pious, not partyers. The Wampanoags came to reconsider their stance on the newcomers. Over the years a fall harvest feast was common in some colonies, especially in New England. In 1789 George Washington called for a national Thanksgiving day to honor the new constitution, but again this did not become a widespread annual event.

The Thanksgiving celebrated today has more to do with 19th-century nationalism, than with 17th-century settlers. It is an invented tradition. In 1863, in the midst of civil war, Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the last Thursday in November as a national Thanksgiving holiday. The popular depiction of the Pilgrims in peace and harmony with natives and nature was meant to emphasize the common heritage of a people at war with itself. The Thanksgiving tradition is the celebration of a myth, but a myth that unifies the nation.

Oh, and by the way, the Pilgrims really did not wear big-buckled shoes either.

20 Years

2009-11-20T16:54:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - Twenty years ago this month, I sat through Professor Dick's Russian class, as he made jokes about the Russian tendancy to use the negative when making requests (something like "You're not getting off the metro here, are you?" instead of "Excuse me, I'm getting off". Or "You wouldn't be able to help me?" instead of "Help!").

"The Russians are so polite," Professor Dick said mockingly, and everyone laughed.

I'm sure Professor Dick was a good teacher, but I didn't think he was funny. Nobody is funny at 8:15 in the morning.

Aside from the cases and the conjugations and the other torture that Professor Dick inflicted on us, I remember his utter amazement as he read us the headlines from the Washington Post each morning. "Are you following this? Are you reading your newspaper? I hope you are reading the newspapers, because this is absolutely astounding, what's taking place over there."

Of course, I was not reading the newspaper. (I was reading hundreds of pages of European history and microeconomics and "The Problem of God", but I was not reading the newspaper.) In retrospect, it's a good thing that Professor Dick brought to our attention the events unfolding in Eastern Europe; otherwise, I might have been completely oblivious.

So here we are, 20 years later. Who would have guessed that these events would so shape my life?

This year, I was back in Eastern Europe. Indeed, I was in Krakow on June 4, the 20th anniversary of the groundbreaking Polish election -- the first that allowed participation by an opposition party (and in fact resulted in a landslide victory for Solidarity). It was arguably the first tile in the domino effect that would take place in Eastern Europe throughout that fall.

Twenty years later, there were some parades and some protests in Krakow; but there was no denying that this day was a day to be remembered.

November 9 was the anniversary of the unexpected opening of the Berlin Wall - the first time that residents of East Berlin were able to travel freely to West Berlin. Borders all along the East-West German border would be flung open throughout the following week.

To commemorate this historic event, the Goethe Institute here in Boston is hosting an excellent exhibit. "Moments in Time 1989/1990" traces the events of those years - mostly using photographs taken by regular people, amateur photographers from both East and West Germany, who were experiencing the events as they unfolded. The photos and accompanying descriptions express surprise, wonder, curiosity, confusion, exaltation and - more than anything else - bewilderment about what might happen in the future.

As indicated by the exhibit's title, it covers not only the events of November, but also the following months, which saw the dismantling of the wall and the reunification of Germany (which seemed to catch everyone by surprise). The exhibit will be in Boston until mid-December, and it is highly recommended, especially for people (like me) who did not make it to Berlin before the wall came down. Alternatively, you can visit the expanded online exhibit.

This week (November 17-20) marks the 20th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia. It started with a peaceful student protest in Prague, and ended - just over a month later - with the election of playwright and dissident Vaclav Havel as President.

December saw demonstrations in the Romanian town of Timişoara. Unlike in other countries, the Romanian police fired on demonstrators. Angry citizens responded to the violence with mass protests, and by the end of the month, the crazy communist leader Nicolae Ceauşescu and his wife had been sentenced to death. (This pseudo revolution and other wacky Romanian historical events are the subject of the Communist Dracula Pageant, which was performed by the American Repertory Theatre last year.)

The communist regime in Bulgaria voluntarily stepped down in February 1990 (you would too, if you had seen what had happened to the Ceauşescus). And that was pretty much the end of the Iron Curtain.

Eastern Europe is obviously a different place than it was 20 years ago. I learned all about it, when I worked on the anniversary edition of the big Lonely Planet guidebook that covers the entire region (now 20 independent nations - read an excerpt here). And while all of these countries are moving closer to their western counterparts, they are still colored by their communist past. And that is part of their charm.

Not Your Babushka's Moscow

2009-11-14T15:17:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - A friend of mine sent me this awesome video of a flash mob that took place in Moscow last week. Personally, I'm not sure it counts as a flash mob if the participants practiced for two weeks beforehand, but that doesn't really matter. Check out what happened when they came together on a Saturday afternoon in a Moscow shopping mall.

I love the babushka at 2:20. She doesn't know the moves, but that's not stopping her from throwing down. She's like "Communism, shmomunism.... We didn't do this back in the Soviet Union!"

MK Flash mob, Moscow, 31 october 2009, 16:00 from Timelapser on Vimeo.

Duck Village

2009-11-09T12:34:00.000-08:00

Somerville, Mass - Oh, Somerville, how I love thee. Today I discovered a new Duck Village on Hanson Street.

Indian Summer, Part 2

2009-11-07T14:02:00.000-08:00

Medford, Mass - The warm weather continues. Today we decided to check out a new destination. Although I have ridden my bike many times past the Middlesex Fells Reservation, I have never really stopped to explore it.

Today was the perfect day for it. Sunny skies and warm temperatures drew out plenty of dog-walkers and a few mountain bikers, although the trails were remarkably unpopulated compared to our regular destinations. The main reason for this is that there are miles and miles of hiking trails - I mean some 25 miles of marked hiking trails, as well as a mountain biking loop - so even if there are people, your chances of seeing them are slim.

We had no idea where to go. We parked on South Border Rd and picked up the first trail we found, which turned out to be the Cross-Fells Trail. We didn't start at the beginning, which is near Medford High School, but this 4.5-mile trail was a pretty good sampler plate - offering a glimpse of the reservoir, a view of the Boston skyline from the top of Cairn Hill and some lovely secluded woods. (The Fells website classified this trail as difficult, but that's a bit of an exaggeration, really.)

Of course we could not come back the way that we went - that would be too easy. So we made our way back first on the Skyline Trail, then on the Reservoir Trail, with some fire roads in between. I never would have ventured off the Cross-Fells Trail by myself - yes, I do make maps for a living, but that doesn't mean I have a good sense of direction! Fortunately, my husband does and we found our way back to our car without incident.

Funny, after all these years living in Somerville and writing about Boston and New England, I am still making new discoveries!

Indian Summer, Part 1

2009-11-06T13:10:00.000-08:00

Concord, Mass - Most of the leaves are brown by now. We finally raked and swept in front of our house, convinced that there will not be too many more coming down. Aside from my day canvassing in Maine, I didn't take any special leaf-peeping trips this year. There was no time for hikes in the White Mountains or drives along the Kangkamangus Highway. Foliage season is so fleeting.

But just when I thought fall was going to fade into winter, we experienced a sudden spike in temperatures. The sun came out, the thermostat reached into the 60s and everybody took off their wool jackets.

We spent the afternoon at one of my favorite urban escapes, Walden Pond. We had brought with us a little picnic - roasted vegetable and goat cheese quiche from Petsi's Pies. Don't you think that's what Thoreau used to eat when he "went to the woods to live deliberately"? Isn't a roasted vegetable and goat cheese quiche one of the "essential facts of life"?

After lunch, we enjoyed a delightful stroll around the pond - so peaceful now without the splashing and screaming of kids. Last time I was here was back in August, when we rode our bikes and swam in the pond to escape the brutal summer heat.

Now, the pond is silent. Even the birds have retreated to warmer climes, although we did spot a great blue heron, posing majestically as he spied on the fish in the water. Other than that, the only signs of life were a few walkers circling the pond and the brown and yellow leaves, still stunning against the blue sky.

Witch City

2009-10-31T12:43:00.000-07:00

Salem, Massachusetts - Mom and Dad are in town for Halloween, so we decided to take them to Halloween Central. Witch City, USA. Salem, Massachusetts.

Salem recently came in third place in Lonely Planet's poll about the best place to celebrate Halloween, coming in behind heavies New York City and San Francisco. But neither of those cities hosts a month-long extravaganza like Salem's Haunted Happenings.

For literary buffs, there are readings of Edgar Allen Poe and presentations in the creepy House of Seven Gables. For history buffs, there are re-enactments of scenes from the 17th-century Witch Hysteria. For party buffs, there are haunted pub tours and zombie balls. Ghost tours, pet parades, dream interpretations, art exhibits, pumpkin carving, fun runs and more.

We actually went up on the day before Halloween because we feared the crowds. We picked up Mom and Dad at the airport, stopped en route for lunch at Kelly's Roast Beef on Revere Beach, and zooped up to Salem. It was Friday night and the streets were bustling (but not packed) with costumed revelers. As afternoon faded into evening, there were more and more people in costumes of all sorts - not just witches, but ghosts, goblins and characters of all sorts. In our regular streetwear, we were starting to feel out of place.

Live bands were playing on a makeshift stage on Derby Street. Artists were offering face painting and tarot card readings. All the Wiccan accessory stores were packed (yes, I'm sure that "Wiccan" has its own section in the Salem Yellow Pages). One creepy guy waved me over to give me a business card. "We're the only store in Salem selling real human bones," he promised. "Finger bones, foot bones..." Thank you, sir, I'll keep you in mind for all of my human bone needs.

New England in the Guardian!

2009-10-27T07:38:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - The BBC Worldwide purchased Lonely Planet about two years ago, with founders Tony and Maureen Wheeler retaining a 25% share (with option to sell at any time). The purchase generated a fair share of controversy in the UK, because it was considered to be "over expansion" by the public company. As recently as last month, British conservatives condemned the BBC Trust for approving the deal.

Now it's in the news that Tony and Maureen have been allowed to extend their option to sell their one-quarter stake. It's not unusual that the original owners would want to continue to play a roll in the company's growth and development. But it has raised questions about why the BBCW would allow them to extend their option to sell, which it is not obligated to do.

For some reason, this has generated speculation that the BBCW is considering unloading the travel publishing company, a rumor which has been flatly denied.

To me, this seems to be a lot of buzz about nothing. But it does mean that Lonely Planet is in the news (in the UK anyway), and look at what book is featured in the article in the Guardian. Beauty!

Standing on the Side of Love

2009-10-24T21:12:00.000-07:00

York, Maine - Tis the season to go leaf-peeping in New England. This year I decided to combine my annual fall outing with some political activism.

This past May, the state of Maine enacted legislation giving same-sex couples the right to marry (hooray). Now, there is a referendum on the ballot to take that right away (boo). Polls are showing that the vote is going to be really close, with 48% supporting marriage equality and 48% supporting the elimination of these rights.

I drove up to Maine with a group of friends from my church to canvass Maine voters. Just so you know, canvassing does not mean that we are trying to convince people to change their minds (which is probably a lost cause). Rather, we were trying to locate the supporters of gay marriage and make sure they are planning to vote on this important issue. Specifically, we were encouraging them to vote early (as everybody is allowed to do in Maine), so that Maine Equality could focus their resources on other undecided voters.

Although it was a gray day, Maine was beautiful in all of its multi-colored fall-foliage glory. The surf was up at York beach, and the surfers were out catching the waves. We spent a great afternoon driving around this lovely beach town talking to the good folks of Maine. "Do you support gay marriage?" I asked one resident. "I support marriage for people who are love," he responded. Amen, brother.

It was heartening to see that the vast majority of folks that we talked to planned to vote No on 1 - but that is to be expected in this liberal county. Maine Equality faces a greater challenge in other parts of the state (which is why it's so important to get as many Yorkers as possible to get out and vote!) See also the account posted by my friend and colleague, Susan Leslie, who was out canvassing with her husband and son.

I had the honor of driving up and canvassing with my friend, Marcia Hams, who also attends my church. She and her wife, Susan Shephard, were the first same-sex couple to get married in Massachusetts in 2004, which means they were the first in the country! Marcia shared this video, which was made by her son, who gives his perspective on why we should not be allowed to vote to take away people's rights.

Southwest Rap

2009-10-13T13:10:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - Here is another airline-themed video that's making the rounds of the internet (and providing good publicity for Southwest Airlines, no doubt). It's not quite as good as the painted-on uniforms of the flight attendants at Air New Zealand, but it's pretty good.

Did you ever see a manatee?

2009-10-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - I was thrilled to read in the Globe this morning that Ilya the manatee is making his way back to Florida, after spending the summer at Cape Cod.

Manatees are good long-distance swimmers, but scientists are baffled about why a Florida manatee would make the 1500-mile journey all the way up to New England waters. "Warmer water is one possible explanation, scientists say, and this year’s record warmth in coastal waters could certainly be a lure," according to the Boston Globe.

This is the second year in a row that a Florida manatee has caused a late summertime stir off the coast of Cape Cod. Last year, a stubborn creature was dubbed "Dennis" by marine mammal fans in that Cape town. Sadly, Dennis stuck around too long and the waters began to chill to uncomfortable temperatures. Although a crew attempted to rescue big Dennis and truck him down to Sea World to recuperate, they were too late. Dennis died of hypothermia before he made it back to Florida.

Fortunately, Ilya is faring better. Apparently he is in better health to begin with. More importantly, he seems to be heading home on his own, as he was spotted off the coast of Connecticut last week. Go, Ilya, go!

I have been in love with the manatees ever since I met their West Indian cousins (up close and personal) last year in Belize (Read about it here). What's not to love about a gentle 1600lb vegetarian giant that floats around - never hurting a soul - except for the 100lbs of grass that it eats every day!

LP Guide to Travel Writing featuring an interview with yours truly!

2009-10-01T09:16:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - All you would-be travel writers, check out the latest edition of Lonely Planet's Guide to Travel Writing, by travel writing guru Don George. This substantial book offers "expert advice on travel writing from the world's leading travel publisher." Most importantly, this valuable resource includes interviews with established writers, editors and agents (ahem).

You're a fool if you don't rush out and by this book right away. But just in case you you can't wait, here is an excerpt. This is the interview you've all been waiting for... Don George gets down to the nitty-gritty, asking probing and personal questions, and eliciting information never before revealed to the public!

Interview with Mara Vorhees

How did you start off in your career as a guidebook writer?

I was living in Yekaterinburg, Russia in the late 1990s, working on a US-government sponsored foreign aid project. I was becoming increasing disillusioned with the field of international development in general and increasingly frustrated with my job in particular. But I was doing a lot of writing, which I enjoyed.

Living and traveling in Russia, I always used the Lonely Planet guide, but I felt like I probably knew more about that country - or at least the region where I was living - than the authors did. On a whim, I wrote a letter to Lonely Planet, sent some writing samples, and offered to work on the next update. I was completely floored when somebody actually responded. As it turned out, that was the start of a new career.

What is the best way of establishing yourself if you’re just starting out in your career as a freelance guidebook writer now?

Develop a regional expertise: travel, learn the language, develop a network of contacts. Learn as much as you can about that place, so you can demonstrate that you are an expert. And by the way, you'll probably do better if your regional expertise is not France.

How do you think guidebook writers get the numbers to add up in terms of an income?

Guidebook writers get the numbers to add up by spending a lot of time on the road, doing back-to-back and overlapping assignments, and taking on other jobs (teaching, temping, waiting tables, whatever it takes). Many guidebook writers are homeless: they crash with friends or family between assigments and avoid housing costs.

How do you get the numbers to add up?

When I started working for Lonely Planet, I had a full-time "real job" that paid my bills quite nicely. I had a great relationship with my boss, who allowed me to take a leave of absence once a year to work on a guidebook. Eventually, I got laid off from that job, and that was the kick in the pants I needed to transition to being a full-time writer. Now I usually do three full-fledged guidebook writing projects a year, and a slew of articles and other smaller pieces. Also, it helps that my husband is gainfully employed.

What advice would you give to budding guidebook writers?

Take every opportunity to travel and be sure to write about it along the way. Even if it's just keeping a journal. That's a fantastic resource which you will really appreciate when you try to turn your adventures into marketable writing.

Are there any courses or any training that you’d recommend a budding guidebook writer to undertake?

Learn the language! You don't need to be fluent, but being able to communicate in your country will make your job hundreds of times easier. And you'll have a lot more fun along the way.

What are the most common mistakes that guidebook writers make -- in their research and in their writing?

The most common mistake in research is not allowing enough time to cover the destination. It's inevitable that you will discover some new unexpected place that you want to explore, and there is never enough time to do everything. I still make this mistake, even after writing guidebooks for almost a decade!

The most common mistake in guidebook writing is using the book as a soapbox to spout one's opinions. Writers should certainly not be shy about expressing their opinions, but readers get turned off by a preachy, snide or sarcastic tone in the text. They want to learn from the guidebook, but not be lectured by it.

What are the main differences between guidebook writing and writing for a newspaper, magazine, or web site?

Guidebook writing comes in relatively big chunks, meaning that one assignment will keep you busy (and pay my bills) for several months. Assigments from newspapers, magazines and web sites are usually much smaller, occupying a couple of days or perhaps a week. Compensation for these smaller assignments is usually comensurate with the amount of time required, but it does not account for travel and research or - the bane of my existence - sending out pitches.

The writing itself is also different. Guidebook writing is very structured, although there are plenty of opportunities to get creative within the confines of that structure. Depending on the demands of the publication, newspaper and magazine writing often allows for more creativity, writing from personal experience, crafting a story.

What, in your opinion, constitutes ‘good’ guidebook writing?

`Good' guidebook writing is accurate and informative, but it is also entertaining. It is insightful, funny and inspiring. It allows readers to make informed decisions about how they will spend their valuable travel time.

What constitutes ‘bad’ guidebook writing?

The obvious example of `bad' guidebook writing is factual inaccuracy. But guidebook writing is also bad when it states the obvious instead of providing an insightful or informed perspective.

What are the rewards of guidebook writing as a career?

The biggest and best reward of a travel writing career is seeing the world. Travel always inspires learning - even moreso for guidebook writers, who must become experts about their destinations.We go everywhere, we see everything, we have incredible adventures; then we come home with a suitcase full of notes and a head full of stories and histories to share with others.

What has been the downside for you?

Sometimes I get tired. The travel is very intensive. Even when I technically have enough time to cover my destination, I always feel like I could be doing more. The write-up process is also stressful, expanding to fill the available time. As a freelance writer, there is a constant pressure to do more in less time.

What’s the role of the Internet in the landscape of contemporary guidebook/travel writing?

With the proliferation of travel websites on the Internet, there are more outlets for travel writing than ever before. There are also more sources of information than ever before. The web can be a very useful resource when it comes to verifying information for inclusion in guidebooks, but it's no substitute for first-hand experience!

How can would-be guidebook writers best utilize the Web for their own professional development?

Get yourself a blog. Write for your friends at home, your parents, your own amusement. You'll get in the habit of writing for other people's consumption and you will amass a good selection of travel writing samples.

Where do you see guidebook publishing going in the next five years?

I see more interplay between guidebooks and technology. I can imagine that travelers will soon be using digital guidebooks that incorporate audio, video and other elements that we can't even imagine. For example, it won't be long until guidebooks include virtual tours of Ancient Rome or Machu Picchu that allow travelers to experience the place as it was in its heyday. Technology will also make it easier for publishers to put together customized products that fit individual travelers' needs: customized itineraries, thematic walking tours, one-stop trip-planning tools. I also see more interaction between publishers, writers and readers, as the industry takes advantage of the increased opportunity to get feedback from readers.

Any other tips or reflections you would offer would-be guidebook writers?

Remember that life is trade-offs. This is not an easy job. Guidebooks are born of blood, sweat and tears. No, really, we work our butts off. But along the way, we have more than our fair share of once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and that's what makes it all worthwhile.

That, and meeting our fellow travelers, who lug those books around, trust our opinions, share our adventures, forgive our oversights (hopefully) and make the planet a little less lonely.

What the Fluff

2009-09-26T21:04:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - As every native Bostonian knows...

It takes Fluff, Fluff Fluff, to make a Fluffernutter

Marshmallow Fluff and lots of peanut butter.

But Bostonians may not know that marshmallow cream actually originated right here in Somerville, Mass! In 1917, Archibald Query went door-to-door to sell the gooey treat made in his Somerville kitchen. A few years later, two enterprising WWI veterans bought the secret recipe for $500, and moved the operation to Lynn. Good management and even better marketing made the Fluff business a sweet success.

Maybe it is mostly air-whipped sugar and not real marshmallow (a plant that actually grows in marshes), but the squat white-and-blue jar of Fluff has been present in cupboards across the region for more than three-quarters of a century. So it's no surprise that it generated quite a controversy in recent years, when a state senator tried to ban Fluffernutter sandwiches from the school lunch program.

Health benefits aside, nobody can deny the iconic cultural status of marshmallow fluff. Certainly not after attending the Fluff Festival, which is was held today in Union Square. Bigger this year than ever before, the festival really celebrates the many diverse functions of marshmallow fluff.

There was a highly competetive cooking contest...

A Fluffernutter race... the blindfolded contestant was required to feed the fluffternutter sandwich to his/her partner. The first sandwich eater to sing the fluffernutter song was the winner.

A Fluffernutter hair-do competition, with some very creative contestants...

Lots of kids' games like fluff bowling...

And an excellent performance by the Flufferettes! You go girls! Show us your fluff!

Let the People Sing

2009-09-20T12:41:00.000-07:00

Cambridge, Mass - I'm pretty sure this is the first time I ever celebrated the autumnal equinox. But really, we spend much of the year looking forward to summer, then we luxuriate in the long sunny days. Why - when it's time for the seasons to change - should we let it slip away without a farewell?
I suppose that is the reasoning behind RiverSing. It's basically a gigantic sing-along on the banks of the River Charles, led by musicians from the Revels. What an awesome way to bring the community together to sing songs that honor the river and the changing of the seasons.

The event kicked off in Winthrop Park in Harvard Square, with face-painting and stilts-walking. Then the Second Line Social Aid and Pleasure Society Brass Band led a procession down to the river, followed by hulahoopers, dragon puppets and hundreds of people. The Revels performers took to the stage near the Weeks footbridge, while the audience was invited to sprawl out along the river with blankets and picnics.
Volunteers passed out lyrics so everybody could sing along to folk favorites like The Water is Wide and Michael Row the Boat Ashore. (Not all the songs followed the river theme, but many did.) One song was written especially for this event - Sing to the Charles - a sort of ode to Boston's beloved waterway (not the first of course - but Dirty Water by the Standells was not included in this particular event).

The crowd favorites were the ones that everybody knows. It's pretty amazing when hundreds of voices join together in spontaneous celebration of something so simple as a seasonal change.
A bell was rung to signal the setting of the sun, and we said goodbye to summer.
The sky was dark by the time the grand finale took place. River Hymn is a call and response between the singers on the shore and a saxophone player on a barge in the middle of the river. The barge was decked out in lights, with a sun and moon on either end, and sax-player Stan Strickland sounding the melody. The barge circled around three times, as the singers and the sax called back and forth to each other.

Beauty is before me. Beauty is behind me, above me and below me.

An American in Paris

2009-09-17T13:54:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - I am so proud of my fellow countrymen and women. According to a poll conducted by Expedia and published by the BBC, Americans are #9 on the list of the World's Best Tourists.

In case you are wondering, the French are the worst tourists. (Eh, bien sur, comme ils sont difficiles!)

According to the article, Americans are most likely `to swallow their pride and order... in the local lingo.' Initially I was surprised by this assessment, as Americans are notoriously bad at learning foreign languagues. It just goes to show that you don't actually have to speak the lingo to please the locals, you just have to be willing to `swallow your pride' and give it a try - even if it means an oral butchering.

The article goes on to say that `US tourists also get top marks for generosity, as the biggest spenders and tippers.' This is directly related to the fact that we pay barstaff and restaurant servers below minimum wage in our country, which means that a 15-20% tip is practically mandatory. In Europe (and other places), restaurant workers actually receive a living wage from their employers, so the guests tip very little, if at all.

Such habits are hard to break. On more than one occasion, I have secretly supplemented the stingey tip left by otherwise generous European dining companions (in the US).

Indeed, I feel like I may have single-handedly skewed the numbers on this poll, since I tend to overtip pretty much everywhere I go (ever since my days waiting tables and earning below minimum wage). At least it seems to be appreciated by folks in the local hospitality industry.

Alas, my compatriots have fallen `short on other counts as the least tidy, the loudest, the worst complainers and the worst dressed.'

The French came in third place for cleanliness, so they beat us there. So much for calling them `the dirty French.'

What really concerns me is this bit about being poorly dressed. My fellow Americans, let us support President Obama in his efforts to improve America's global image. The single most effective thing we can do is to stop wearing sweatshirts and sneakers on the streets of Paris and Rome. Let's throw out our fanny packs! Let's show the rest of the world that we have pride in our nation - that our pockets are not only deep, but they are also well-stitched. Yes we can!

Razzmataz

2009-09-12T13:53:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - Apparently, the rainy summer delayed the berry season in New England. I read about it in this Boston Globe article, and then I witnessed it first hand, when the raspberries that grow along the side of the pink house burst forth into berry-dom. There were a few berries earlier in the summer, but not enought to get excited about. Indeed, I had sort of given up on them. Now this.

Funny thing about these raspberries... they used to belong to our next-door neighbors. But when new neighbors moved in, they tore everything out of the yard. Everything. The blooming lilac in the front was razed "to let more light in"; the gorgeous garden in the back was completely pulled up "because the dog will dig it up." I have no idea why the raspberry bushes were cut down to nothing - probably because the new neighbors had no idea what they were.
Fortunately for me, a few delinquent branches had started to sprout up on our side of the fence. So we let them spread. There was not much to show for it last summer, but this year - come September - these branches were laden with tart juicy razzmataz.

I had so many berries I decided to put the ice cream maker to work again. The recipe I used came straight from a website called Nibbledish, so I won't reprint it here. But I urge you to try it.
Best. Ice cream. Ever. (Shown here with a scoop of choco-choco-chip, but quite delectable all by itself too.)

I did have the idea that I should share some of the ice cream with my neighbors; but it was gone before I had the chance.

Marine Mammal Mania

2009-09-08T13:39:00.000-07:00

Boston, Mass - Mom was in town for the weekend, so we went to check out the new Marine Mammal Center at the New England Aquarium.
First of all, can I say that it's a little bit of an exaggeration to call this the "Marine Mammal Center." It should more apropriately be called the Fur Seal Center, because that's who is swimming around the new fancy digs overlooking the Boston Harbor.
Sure, there are a few fun facts and photos about polar bears and walruses, but the only animals you can see live and in action are four fur seals: Ursula, Cordova, JD and Isaac.

Don't get me wrong, the seals are charmers. It's worth catching the twice daily demonstration, when trainers show off their skills (mostly waving and otherwise flirting with the crowd). This is when you can see Cordova doing an excellent imitation of a harbor seal (which slinks along the ground like a worm, instead of propping itself up on its fins like fur seals do). And when the show is over, watch for Ursula doing a run and slide into the holding room pool.

Even if you can't catch the show, the seals are pretty entertaining. Cordova is the real crowd pleaser, climbing up out of the water to look at her visitors, then opening up her mouth and letting out a reverberating shout. This soggy little creature really does sound like a mad man yelling at the top of his lungs. To the endless amusement of the crowd.
One of the best things about the new Fur Seal Center - er, Marine Mammal Center - is that it has opened up this stretch of the waterfront to the public. There is a lovely vista from the inside of the aquarium (which I'm sure the seals are enjoying), but the boardwalk has been extended so it circles around the aquarium, allowing everyone to appreciate the view. Finally, the aquarium is taking advantage of its fantastic setting by the sea!

By the way, the harbor seals are still hanging out in their outdoor enclosure in the front of the aquarium, which means you can visit them without paying for admission. If you happen to be downtown in the evening, it's always fun to stop by and see what the seals are up to. They are usually surprised and excited to see you at that hour!
Photos and video courtesy of the New England Aquarium.

Travel Blog Redefined

2009-09-05T16:48:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - I know, I know, I know. I know this is supposed to be a travel blog. But here I am with my domestic bliss, writing ice cream recipes and film reviews. What gives...?

So, um, I have a little confession to make. The truth is that I'm not planning on doing any traveling for the next four months (!) Holy smokes, I have to write that again so that it sinks in... I'm going to be sitting tight right here in the pink house until the end of the year.

And as much as I might pretend that I'm traveling by posting about places around Boston, that's really just for fun, because I'm not working on any guidebooks until next year either. None. Zero. Zilch. (Cue jumping for joy.)

I needed a little break from the guidebook gig, so here it is: four glorious months with nothing to do except make ice cream and go to the movies.

Just kidding. Here are a few of the ways I will be spending my time this fall:

Brushing up on my Portuguese. In anticipation of an upcoming assignment in Brazil, I will be switching languages once again. Soon there will be Portuguese swirling around with the Italian and Polish. Actually, the Portuguese will probably push the Polish right out of my brain. And let's face it, the Italian is long gone. Oh well, the important thing is that I'm going to Brazil this winter and that I'm going to be able to talk to people while I'm there. Tudo bem.

Attending a Vipassana meditation retreat. Inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert and encouraged by a few experienced friends, I signed up for a 10-day retreat at the Dhamma Dhara retreat center. I will be spending 10 days in "Noble Silence". That means no talking - I can handle that - but it also means no reading, no writing (I know you will miss me), no music, no nothing. Just meditating and listening to your breath. I'm not really expecting a dramatic personal transformation, although some people claim it is a life-changing experience. That said, I am curious about how this age-old technique will allow me to "see things as they really are", which is what Vipassana means. Considering it is really a process of self-observation, it could get ugly.

Writing a book proposal. There, I said it. I am using this little sabbatical to write a proposal for a brillian book idea that I have been mulling over for the past year. No, it's not a guidebook. I have no idea how to write a book proposal, but I have four months to figure it out. (Any publisher or agents who happen to be reading this, please feel fre to contact me at mara@maravorhees.com.)

Dear readers, do not be alarmed. Just because I'm not going to be traveling, does not mean I won't be blogging. I'm sure I'll have countless entertaining and enlightening thoughts to share with you about above referenced experiences (as well as recipes, movie reviews, etc). Please don't go away!

Cold Souls

2009-08-31T08:10:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - Sometimes, it's so hot in the pink house that there is nothing you can do but go to the movies. Such was the case last weekend, when we saw Cold Souls, the funny and probing comedy starring Paul Giamatti and Dina Korzun.

Apparently, starring in a Chekhov play can really get a guy down. When Paul Giamatti (who plays himself) is unable to separate the angst of Uncle Vanya from his everyday life, he takes desperate measures. An article in the New Yorker leads him to solicit a service called "Soul Storage" which promises to lighten his load for the duration of the show. His soul is extracted - it looks remarkably like a chickpea, which is a source of endless amusement throughout the film - and stored safe and sound in a little locker.

Unfortunately, it's not exactly a clean break. Without a soul, Giamatti becomes alienated from everything he used to care about. He can't act (the scene with the soul-less Giamatti doing Uncle Vanya is priceless); he can't make love to his wife; he can't do anything except stare at his feet.

Alas, when he returns to the soul storage facility to retrieve his little garbanzo bean, he discovers it has been stolen - absconded by a group of ruthless Russian soul trafickers. Dina Korzun plays an icy Russian blondinka - the mule who moves the priceless goods across borders. But she seems to have a soft spot for Giamatti (we might say that she was "able to get a sense of his soul" when she transported it to Russia). Ultimately, she agrees to take Paul to snowy St Petersburg in pursuit of his soul.

The scenes shot in Russia are magnificent - so beautiful and bleak. Giamatti spends a lot of time walking along the ice-clogged Neva River wearing a furry hat. Especially when it's 90 degrees wherever you are, the film effectively evokes a sense that he is a stranger in a strange land. A few views of the Petersburg skyline hint at the grandeur and grace of this city; but without his soul, Giamatti is really shut out from appreciating it, and so are we.

I loved the scenes shot in the hotel, which bears a striking resemblance to one Hotel Dnepr where I spent many nights in the year 1990, where Giamatti also spends many nights waiting, waiting, waiting. (Note: there are not actually too many hotels left in St Petersburg that look like that.)

Every once in a while, somebody makes a clever film that both makes you laugh and makes you think. Director Sophie Barthes has done it here. So next time you need a cool-down, get yourself to the cinema to watch Cold Souls.

Beet It

2009-08-26T16:30:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - Regular readers will know that this year I joined the Food Project CSA, which has resulted in a weekly bounty of vegetable goodness - often in the form of vegetables that I do not know what they are, let alone how to cook them (click here to learn what I did with my Chinese cabbage).
I do not have that problem with beets. I have spent enough time in Russia to appreciate this sweet tuber in all of its crimson-colored glory. In fact, when I return home from Russia, I often suffer from a little bit of beet withdrawal.

I'm happy to report that I am getting plenty of beets in my CSA. Last week I celebrated by making a cold beet soup, or svekolnik (a summertime classic in Russia). Last summer this soup made the list of Top Ten Things I will Miss about Moscow. But I don't have to miss it, because I can make it myself (and you can too!)

1 small onion, julienned
2 cloves garlic, crushed
4-5C veggie or chicken stock
2 carrots, julienned
1/2 lb beets, peeled and julienned
1C tomato juice
4tsp sugar
2 Tbsp lemon juice
fresh dill

In a large stockpot, saute the onion and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add stock, carrots and beets, plus salt and pepper. Bring to boil and simmer for 30 minutes. Stir in tomato juice and sugar and continue to cook for another 30 minutes.
Let the soup cool to room temperature, then stir in lemon juice. Add salt and pepper to taste. Chill overnight in the fridge. Garnish with fresh dill. Cool refreshing goodness.

Adapted from A Taste of Russia by Darra Goldstein.

Walden Pond

2009-08-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

Concord, Mass - I'm sorry to go on and on about the heat and humidity. To be honest, I love it. I mean we went through June and July without much of summer, so thank God we experiencing it in August.
That said, the pink house is not the perfect place to be in this weather. The heat gets trapped in there and it feels like a sauna. The ceiling fans are going full tilt, but it offers only an iota of relief. You're not even moving and you're dripping sweat. You go to get yourself a cold drink from the fridge and you trip over a cat corpse.
Yesterday we no choice but to hop on our bikes and ride to Walden Pond. It's about 17 miles each way, with a few killer hills, and a delightful dip in the pond's cool crystalline waters as a reward.
Glory hallelujiah, that Thoreau had the right idea! Of course the tiny beach at Walden Pond was packed as per usual, but if you wander away from the crowds (as Thoreau did) there are all kinds of nooks and crannies where you can find your own private piece of pondside paradise. The water is delicious - cool enough to refresh, warm enough to float around for hours, which is exactly what I did.
As an extra treat, there is always the ice cream truck that sits in the parking lot. On a hot day, there is no better energy snack than a good old-fashioned ice cream sandwich.
I know what you are thinking. Certainly Thoreau didn't have ice cream sandwiches and such luxuries when he lived for two years in a little shack on the shores of the pond.
Maybe not... but he did frequently make the two-mile trek through the woods to have dinner at the Emersons' in Concord. So he was pretty well taken care of.
Thoreau wrote "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, to discover that I had not lived..." And I went to the woods because I wished to splash around in the cool water and eat ice cream sandwiches. I think we can understand each other.

Photos courtesy of Walden Pond State Reservation.

Shepard Fairey

2009-08-16T13:12:00.000-07:00

Boston, Mass - Just in the knick of time, I got to the ICA to see the Shepard Fairey exhibit, Supply & Demand. This guy generates a lot of controversy, and it was hard to withold an opinion until actually seeing the show (which has been in Boston since February). Here is why some people have a problem:
1 - Graffiti. He got his start as a street artist - plastering posters and stickers and paintings in places where (apparently) it wasn't wanted. It's illegal. He's a criminal.
Personally, I don't have a huge problem with this. I think street art can be interesting and even attractive - adding an undercurrent of creativity to the urban grit. In Fairey's case, it looks cool AND it asks probing questions. Certainly I'd rather look at the Obey giant than a billboard screaming at me to drink Heineken, even if the former is illegal and the latter is not.
2 - Plagiarism. Many of Fairey's best known works have borrowed images that are in the popular culture. Most famously, the Obama "Hope" poster is based on an AP photograph (the AP has filed a claim against Fairey, which currently being disputed in court).
In fact, many of Fairey's pieces reference photographs, advertisements and propaganda posters that were originally created by other artists. Click here to see some examples of this.
Nobody can contest the fact that Fairey's artwork borrows from other sources; but that is the whole point. He borrows images, many of which we are bombarded with on a daily basis, and he alters them in a way that forces the viewer to question their meaning. He borrows techniques and styles and uses them to convey unexpected or ironic messages. This juxtaposition between familiar and defiant is exactly what makes his work so powerful.
So again, some call this plagiarism, but I don't have a huge problem with it. Maybe Fairey should credit to the original artist, like a footnote. I think that would go a long way toward appeasing many of these artists, who probably never got nearly as much attention for their work as Fairey gets for his.
3 - Sell Out. Fairey started out as a renegade street artist, questioning authority, promoting peace and critiquing consumer culture. Now his art hangs in fancy galleries. He has applied the name "Obey" to a line of streetwear and skateboards. He has a steady stream of corporate clients.
Of all the criticisms, this is the one that I can't shake. I can't blame the guy for wanting to make a buck. Really, he deserves it. There are plenty of socially-responsible enterprises that are also financially successful; going "corporate" does not automatically invalidate his message. But when the message changes.... that invalidates the message. This is a marketing campaign that Fairey designed for Saks earlier this year.
Anyway, you gotta give the guy credit for generating a buzz. I have never witnessed so much excitement over an art exhibit in Boston. Everybody had an opinion... about art! According to artdaily.org, Supply & Demand has been the ICA's most popular exhibit to date, attracting upwards of 100,000 visitors.
Although I did not have super high expectations for the exhibit, I was impressed. The artwork was much more diverse than I expected. Sure, Andre the Giant made his presence known, but the themes were wide-ranging, incorporating poster art, murals, money and music. I think posters are an under-appreciated and under-utilized art form in our society (see my previous post about poster art in Poland), but this is obviously Fairey's strength. He uses styles and techniques (and some characters) from communist-era propaganda posters - a medium which is obviously close to my heart.
His message was also more diverse than I expected. The ubiquitous theme is "Obey". (Obey whom? you ask, which is exactly what Fairey wants to you question.) But his artwork addresses politics, war, environmentalism and fanaticism. He's not just spouting a slogan; I really felt like he wanted his viewers to think about these issues.
And not for nothing, most of his work is really cool to look at. Bold colors and two-dimensional images contrast with elaborately stencils that are layered on top of other patterns and colors. When this is a mural that covers an entire wall, the effect is pretty awesome, and that's speaking purely about aesthetics.
Incidentally, the ICA opened the Supply & Demand exhibit last February with a huge gala attended by some 700 people. Fairey himself was scheduled to DJ the party, except that he never showed up. He was detained on his way to the museum - arrested on two outstanding warrants for defacing public property.
You can't blame the Boston police for wanting to make an example out of Fairey. And frankly, he is a graffiti artist, so it comes with the territory, right? Part of his appeal is the fact that he's rebellious and he's out-there. Fairey should thank the police for reminding the public that he's a renegade (lest we forget).
Photos courtesy of obeygiant.com and art-for-change.org.

Witchy Woman

2009-08-14T17:01:00.000-07:00

Salem, Mass - Not that I need an excuse to take the ferry up to Salem to visit the superb Peabody Essex Museum. But I had one: a special exhibit on the Golden Age of Dutch Seascapes.
Just like Catherine the Great, I have a special interest in Dutch art, due to a little side project I have brewing. (I'll say no more, but hopefully you'll hear more about this in the future.) The seafaring theme is appropriate not only for my mysterious project, but especially for the PEM, which was founded by the East India Maritime Society, whose member ships were instructed to bring back "natural and artificial curiosities" for the education and enlightenment of the public.
Although the exhibit was excellent, it did not make my list of the day's highlights:
1 - Ferry Ride. The high-speed ferry departs from Long Wharf in Boston and arrives in Salem Harbor less than one hour later. The breezy boat deck offers great views of the Boston Harbor Islands and the North Shore, and a sweet sunset on the way home. Very civilized.
2 - Native American Art. Although we came for the Dutch, we couldn't resist looking around the museum's permanent collections, which are vast and varied. They are arranged geographically, with emphasis on Africa, Asia, Oceana, India and the Americas. What I love is that historic pieces - including folk art and handicrafts - are displayed alongside contemporary pieces. So it shows these exotic places with living, breathing dynamic cultures. This was especially striking in the exhibit dedicated to Native American art, since this exotic culture exists in our own country, which we sometimes forget. At least I do.
3 - Funky post-industrial yard art. What a delightful surprise. As we stepped off the ferry and started to walk into town, we came across an old stable - its yard crammed with funny and funky creatures. Birds and beasts made out of thingamajigs and dohickeys and other industrial whatnot. "Come inside" invited a hand-written sign, thus opening up a fantastical world of creative whimsy. I took some photos on my phone but I'm embarassed to admit that I don't know how to transfer them to the computer. You'll have to check it out yourself when you go to Salem: you can't miss it as you exit the ferry.
Photos courtesy of the Peabody Essex Museum.

Three cures for the summertime blues

2009-08-11T13:15:00.000-07:00

Provincetown, Mass - Heat got you down? In my opinion, when the thermometer hits 90 degrees, there is really only one place to be, and that's in the water. In anticipation of the summer's first really hot days, we headed to Provincetown on Sunday. That was a good move.

Cape Cod has a reputation for bad traffic and crowded beaches, but there are a few ways to avoid both of these negatives:

Number one, drive to Cape Cod on a Sunday morning. Sure there will be a lot of cars, but they will all be headed in the opposite direction.

Number two, drive all the way to the Cape Cod National Seashore. This is an endless strip of pristine beach backed by gorgeous dunes and salt marshes. Okay, it's not endless, but it is 40 miles long, so it is seemingly endless. The beach will be crowded near the entrance, but you can just keep walking until the humans dwindle out. Walk for 10 minutes and you will have as much sand as you could possibly want - all to yourself.

The sign at the ranger station claimed the water was 63 degrees, but I didn't believe it. It was supposed to be 62 degrees at Crane's Beach last week, and that water was frigid. The Cape catches the edge of the Gulf Stream, which means the water was delightfully refreshing - but warm enough to stay in and float around for as long as we wanted. No waves, though. No boogie board action.

The National Seashore also has about 12 miles of bike trails that wind through the dunes. I had my heart set on vegging on the beach on this particular outing, so we decided not to bring the bikes, but this is a beautiful place for a leisurely ride. Highly recommended for not-too-serious bikers.

We packed a picnic, played Scrabble, read books and flew kites - perfect beach day. In the evening, Provincetown was hopping. We spent an hour or two browsing in the art galleries on Commercial Street. We often end up bringing something home - this time it was a coal-mining dwarf, who is now taking a break in the garden behind the pink house. We have quite a collection of creatures back there.

Afterwards, we decided to forego the gay cabaret, which is P-town's best form of entertainment. Instead we sat at the bar, watching the Sox and sucking down cold beers and Wellfleet oysters.

In case you needed additional reasons to go to Cape Cod, I just gave you a dozen more. Slurpy, salty, succulent goodness, times twelve.

Monday morning was cloudy, so we lost some of our valuable beach time. But we were back out there as soon as the sun broke through. Beach blanket heaven. Sadly, we had to cut the day short to drive back to Boston on Monday afternoon. Still, I was glad we had made the trip, especially on the way home when I saw that the thermometer at Cambridge Savings Bank read 92 degrees. Ooh ma-ma!

In case you are wondering why we had to get back to Boston (seeing that I am a lady of leisure these days), it's because we had to pick up our two newly-adopted family members. The pink house is a cat house once again!

So there you have it:

Get in the water
Eat oysters
Adopt a cat
If that doesn't cure your summertime blues, nothing will!

A Pretty Good Day

2009-08-06T07:22:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - If I could design the perfect summer day, it would bear a striking resemblance to yesterday:
#1 - Bike ride from North Reading through historic Ipswich and beautiful salt marshes to Crane's Beach.
#2 - Cycling tour around the Crane Estate and a delicious cooling dip in the 62-degree ocean. That's chilly water, but when you've been pedalling for three hours in the 90-degree heat, it feels pretty good.
#3 - Steamers from Woodman's, a New England institution.
#4 - Cycle back to North Reading through rolling hills, horse country and the shady lanes of Harold Palmer State Forest. The sky threatens but does not rain. (Total distance 66 miles.)
#5 - Massive traffic jam on the way back to Somerville (okay, I might strike that part from the perfect summer day - but at least I discovered a new way to get from I-93 to my house; desperation breeds innovation).
#6 - Fenway Franks for dinner and Paul McCartney singing beneath the Citgo Sign.

Garden Blog

2009-08-05T02:55:00.000-07:00

Dee-troit Dee-lights

2009-08-03T13:15:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - As a follow-up to my previous post, here are some great things about Detroit that you probably didn't know about - unless you are from Detroit yourself. One for each day I spent in the Motor City.

National Coney Island - Oh, Coney, how I love thee. And not only sitting at the counter and sucking down chilli dogs and thick chocolate shakes, but also my many sweet memories of the summer of 1990. How frightening that that was 20 years ago that I worked the counter at Moross & Mack, but it still feels like home.

The Brothers Groove - I mention this funky fusion jazz group because I went to high school with the keyboardist, Chris Codish (and because they are awesome), but it is only one of many groups to come out of Detroit. It's hard to deny that Detroit still has one of the country's best music scenes. Rock on, Motown!

MOCAD - Many native Detroiters don't even know about the newish Museum of Contemporary Art of Detroit. It's not a big place, but it's in a cool recycled building that was converted from an old car dealership. The front is covered with graffiti, complete with graffiti artist.

Lake St Clair - Technically, Detroit is not on the lake, but its eastside suburbs are. It may not be a Great Lake, but it is a great lake. I spent so many summer days floating on a raft on her gentle waters - so many summer nights sneaking out for a midnight dip. I get homesick everyday the temperatures in Somerville goes above 80 degrees (like today).

Motor City Madness

2009-07-29T07:28:00.000-07:00

St Clair Shores, Mich - I'm proud to say I'm from Detroit. It makes people think I'm tough, which I am, although that may not be apparent at first glance.

Seriously, though, the Motor City gets a bad rap. I won't argue that the city isn't going through some tough times (and has been - since before I was born). It makes the city an easy target for criticism. Maybe that's why I find the videos and photos of Detroit's abandoned buildings so boring. This has been going on for years, people - can't you find something new to say?

If you're not familiar with the videos and photos I am referring to, see 100 Abandoned Houses, which was recently written up in the New York Times. "With such a dramatic decline [in population], the abandoned house problem is not likely to go away soon." So writes the photographer, Kevin Bauman, who has since relocated to Denver.

Okay, I'm not exactly in a position to fault the guy for moving out of town. We are not beholden to our hometown. If you're going to make it the subject of your creative project, though, can't you think of something good to say? Or at least something that has not been said 100 times before?

Oh, Canada

2009-07-27T07:30:00.000-07:00

Ontario, Canada - This weekend we drove from Detroit to Toronto for a wedding. It's the first time I have been to Toronto in about 15 years, and the first time I have driven over the border in almost a decade.

We all know that times have changed since 9/11. But driving to Canada was a bit of a shock for someone who used to drive to Windsor to go drinking on a Saturday night. Nowadays, passports are definitely required and it takes at least a half-hour just to cross the border.

It's most startling after traveling in other continents, where barriers are being broken down, not built up. These days in Europe, you can drive from country to country without even being aware that you are crossing a border. Yet in North America, the borders are becoming tighter and tougher. Irony.

Despite the fact that we had to wait a long time to get there, Canada is alright with me. I think it's cool that all the signs are in English and French, even though only about a quarter of the population actually speaks French. And I really appreciate that you can order a small coffee (or whatever) and actually get a smallish-size, as opposed to the super-sizes that prolifierate in our obesity-inducing consumer culture.

But I still wonder why Canadians insist on wearing that Maple Leaf whenever they leave their fair country. Only the Brazilians can rival the Canadians when it comes to flag pride - why?

Mint-eriffic

2009-07-22T12:36:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - The ice cream maker is getting quite a workout this summer, as we have whipped up strawberry gelato, cherry walnut ice cream and tropical sorbet over the last few weeks. Still, until this week, the best ice cream I had had was the seasonal specialty, Fresh Mint, from Christina's in Inman Square.
Now, I know that the folks at Christina's are real professionals. They do this for a living and well, they are pretty darn good at it. It's well-known that Christina's is pretty much the best ice cream in the world, consistently winning Best in Boston. There are a few staples at Christina's that are hard to beat (eg, Coconut Almond), but the place also tempts you with seasonal specialties like Rose Petal in summer and Pumpkin in fall.
Anyway, I won't pretend that my homemade conconctions can compete with Christina's, but her Fresh Mint was so smooth and creamy and delicious that I just had to try to make it at home. Normally, I like mint (or mint-chip) ice cream okay, as long as it isn't green. I know that the food coloring probably does not affect the flavor, but the fake color really ruins it for me. Christina's version, however, is a soft creamy color with just a subtle hint of greenish hue, which is the natural coloration from the mint leaves.
Last weekend, we were having a few folks over for dinner to celebrate my cousin's birthday. My aunt promised to bring her famous (and delicious) chocolate cake, so I decided to attempt to make the fresh mint ice cream as a complement. What else am I going to do with the fresh mint leaves that are busting out of their pot on my back porch? (Note the little snail trying to get in on it.)

I think Christina's recipe is a closely-guarded secret, but I did find some alternatives on the internet. The challenge was that almost all of these recipes called for 4-6 eggs, and my guests were strict vegetarians who do not eat eggs.
I looked at a lot of recipes and finally came up with this amalgam. Apparently, soy acts as an emulsifier, so I substituted soy milk where other recipes called for regular milk. I added in the arrowroot to thicken it a bit, although I'm not sure that was even necessary. Note that my guests were NOT vegan, so I chose to keep heavy cream as an ingredient, in hopes of attaining the creamy quality that makes Christina's so divine. It worked! The end result was every bit as rich and creamy and delicious as I had hoped.

1-1/2 cup soy milk
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup fresh mint leaves
1 tsp arrowroot
1-1/2 cup heavy cream

Heat soy milk over low heat. Stir in sugar and arrowroot until they dissolve. Add mint leaves and allow to simmer for 10-20 minutes. Remove from heat and allow to cool. Refrigerate soy milk and mint leaves mixture overnight. The next day, strain the milk mixture and discard mint leaves. Sir in cream and pour into your ice cream maker as per usual. As the churning finishes, you could also add in some dark chocolate chunks - if you're not planning to serve it with chocolate cake, that is. Freeze overnight. Then enjoy cool and creamy, mint-eriffic heaven!

Climb to the Clouds

2009-07-19T07:32:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - Now that I have cycled across Africa and I know how to change a flat tire, I finally feel comfortable calling myself a "biker". Plus, I have the gear now, so that pretty much settles it.
That said, I'm not sure that I will ever again ride the distances that I did over the winter and spring. I enjoyed the training - I really did - but it was so time-consuming. And while I would like to do some more long-distance bike tours, I would prefer a route that averages 50 miles a day instead of 100 miles a day.
Since my return from my inter-continental journey this spring, I have resumed riding pretty regularly. Indeed, it's a joy to be out on my bike. But my standard route follows the Minute Man Bike Trail, either its terminus in Bedford (about 28 miles roundtrip) or the slightly extended trip to Walden Pond (35 miles). No strong desire to go too much farther than that at this point in my life.
Today was the first day I joined my old riding group, the Charles River Wheelmen for an organized ride. Although it was the group's summer century, I opted for the shorter 62-mile ride. It's called the Climb to the Clouds because the route takes in Mt Wachusetts in Princeton, Mass. So, yes, there's some serious climbing involved. This year we were warned that the access road to the 2000-foot summit was closed for repairs. Let me tell you, I was thrilled. It was hard enough getting up Mountain Road to the visitors center.
So that was the longest distance - and certainly the hilliest route - that I have ridden in a while. No wild animals were spotted, but the weather was perfect and the scenery from the mountain was spectacular. And after 62 miles, I was beat. What more do I want from my bike ride?

TDA Highlights

2009-07-13T07:34:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - All of the Lonely Planet team members contributed to this little slide show about the highlights of the Tour d'Afrique.

The original presentation was actually a PDF file, but I can't figure it out how to post that. Apparently I can't post a video without sharing it with the world on YouTube. So here it is - one more time - as a photo album.

There are a few consistent themes, but for the most part, it's interesting to see how everybody really had different experiences.

One recurrent theme seems the be "The People". Many of the riders said they enjoyed meeting the locals along the way. You'll notice that this was not a highlight for my partner Tom or me - that's because we only met about 7 people in Botswana and Namibia. They are kind of sparsely populated.

Does this inspire you to start planning an exotic bike trip? Visit the Tour d'Afrique website.

One Love

2009-07-11T07:38:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - Deadline looming (technically past). No time to write, except for reviews of pierogi parlours and underground jazz clubs... but you'll have to buy the forthcoming Krakow Encounter guide to read those.

In lieu of inventing something myself, let me share this awesome video made by 35 musicians from around the world. Sorry to contribute to Bob Marley Madness but this is a unique rendition. You can see some other "Songs Around the World" including some original compositions on the website Playing for Change.

Fly Kiwi

2009-07-07T07:39:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - In case anybody has not seen the Air New Zealand ad that's been making the rounds of the internet. Apparently these painted bodies are actually Air New Zealand employees, not actors. Enjoy!

The comment made by the older woman at the end of the video is "Don't you love a man in uniform?" Cute.
Aside from this advert, they also made a safety video to be shown on Air New Zealand flights. It does seem like a good way to get people to pay attention.

I only feel bad for rest of the Air New Zealand staff, who now - undoubtedly - must endure endless questions about why they are wearing clothes instead of body paint. If I worked for this company, I would be in favor of a new policy prohibiting such questions. An outright ban. Seriously, you're not allowed to make jokes about hikjacking the plane or you get kicked off the flight. Same goes if you make a joke about getting naked... you're outta here.

From Ale Pail to Bigos Bucket

2009-07-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - This year we joined the Food Project CSA, which is a fantastic way to support a good cause and get a regular supply of delicious, locally grown, organic veggies at a very decent price. But it's not without its challenges. This week, we received a gigantic Asian cabbage, completely unannounced. What on earth am I supposed to do with that?

Regular readers will know that I have recently returned from Poland, so I had the brilliant idea to use the cabbage to make bigos, the most delicious of Polish peasant foods. It's basically sauerkraut, cooked long and slow with wild mushrooms, onions, sausage and anything else you feel like clearing out of the root cellar (or fridge, if you're not actually a Polish peasant). So what a perfect use for my Asian cabbage.
But first, of course, I have to turn it into sauerkraut....
A quick google search made it clear why sauerkraut is an ideal thing for peasants to eat. First of all, it requires only two ingredients: salt and cabbage. Second of all, it sits in a cool dark place and lasts for weeks on end. No refrigeration required.
Basically, you add liberal amounts of sea salt to chopped cabbage, allowing it to release the water that it contains and start the fermentation process. Apply pressure to squish out the water and keep out the air. Put it in a cool place and let it sit for two to fours weeks (!) You can start eating it as soon as it tastes good. Or you can let it sit there and keep fermenting until it stops tasting good, which could be months.
This is not exactly what I expected; frankly, I thought I would be eating my bigos in the next day or two. But why not? I mean, what else do I have to do with a giant head of Asian cabbage?

The recipes recommend using a big crock or a food-grade plastic bucket. I do not own the former, but I do have the Ale Pail, which came with our beer-brewing kit (temporarily known as the Bigos Bucket).
The most time-consuming aspect of this project was chopping the cabbage. Once that's done, you salt liberally and you're ready to go. You can also add extra treats for flavour or colour, eg, I added some julienned carrot strips because I had a bunch of those from the Food Project too.

As you mix everything up with the salt, it starts to generate the juices. Cover with a plate or a lid that you can press down on the cabbage, and weight it will some heavy stones. (This is the fancy peasant cooking technique.) As the fermentation process takes place, the level of liquid rises; so after one day, the brine already covers the lid.
I put the Bigos Bucket in the basement to keep it cool. Now my instructions are to let it sit. (Fortunately, we have plenty to eat in the meantime, unlike peasants.) Stay tuned for sauerkraut status reports.

Empty Nest Syndrome

2009-06-29T17:55:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - There has been a lot of activity in the back yard this week. A nice cardinal couple moved into the tree near the back door. We have named them Cardy-Girl (after the long-time owner and occupant of the pink house, a lady whose ghost certainly lurks in one form or another) and Daddy-O. The nest is high enough that you can't see inside, but this week it became apparent that the egg(s) had hatched. Those little peepers make quite a racket!

The funny thing is that they only peep when the parents are around. Both Cardy-Girl and Daddy-O spend a lot of time and energy bringing food to the chick. (They seem to be very nice parents.) When they are away, there is no movement in the nest and all is quiet. But as soon as one of the parents announces his or her arrival, the peeping commences.

I was curious about what was going on in there, so I found this on YouTube. We could actually see the chick's wide-open beak, which would pop up above the nest when one of the parents showed up. We also watched the adult male clean out the nest, as you can see in this video.

I read that the nestlings would stay for 10-11 days before being coaxed out into the wide world. As it turned out, today was the big day. I was pulling out a few weeds, when I happened to glance up and notice this little fuzzball perched on a branch of the tree where the nest was.

He was quiet. A few moments later, both parents arrived, chirping around and acting alarmed. The chick got excited to see his parents, and he fell from the branch.

Apparently this is normal for a fledgling, who should spend another 1-2 weeks on the ground before he has the strength to fly. This is the the chick's most vulnerable time, for obvious reasons. This afternoon, I decided to work in the backyard and I had to chase off two different cats.

The problem is that this guy does not stay still. If he would just stay hidden in our garden, I could make sure that the cats are not around. (We have done this before when the catbirds were nesting nearby.) But over the course of the afternoon, the fledgling made his way into the neighbor's yard, and eventually around to the front.

He's easy to track, because he's such a peeper, and the parents are constantly monitoring his progress. He goes quiet when a predator approaches, or when the parents fly off to find some food. But otherwise, there is constant communication between the three of them.

Anyway, that's what's happening in the pink house. It's almost as good as Botswana!

Top Nine Things to Miss about Krakow

2009-06-24T06:19:00.000-07:00

#9 Hejnal - Every hour, the bugle call from the Mariacki steeple sounds across the Old Town. True, it seems sort of excessive to do it every hour. And true, I was disappointed when I learned that the legend of the Trumpeter of Krakow was invented by an American author (read about it in my previous post). But I still loved this sad, plaintive melody, which was a cause for a pause - just for a moment to observe what was going on around me. Inevitably, everyone was looking up.
At home, there a painting of the Mariacki steeple (complete with bugler getting shot with an arrow) hanging in my living room. I can't hear the song, but I can remember the story.
#8 Balcony over Pijarska St - Every morning in Krakow I would step out on my balcony to check the weather, drink my coffee and watch the passers-by. This became less and less appealing as the month went on and the construction on the street got closer and louder and closer and louder.
At home, I have no balcony, but I do have construction on my street.
#7 Obwarzanki - I thought long and hard about which Polish food I would miss the most, and I finally came up with it. Sort of a cross between a bagel and a pretzel, this round chewy treat is topped with sesame seeds or poppy seeds and sold from street carts.

At home, there are pretzels and there are bagels, but there are no obwarzanki!
#6 Hidden courtyards - The Krakow Old Town is set up so that imposing building facades tower over the cobblestone streets. It feels close and crowded. But behind every building, there is a tranquil courtyard, which is unseen from the street. This is obviously prime territory for sipping a cold beer on a warm day.
At home, there is a hidden courtyard right behind the pink house - the secret garden as we sometimes call it. That's pretty good too.
#5 Basement bars - While we're at it, the Old Town foundations date to the 14th century, which means the basements of these buildings are ancient, evocative arcaded cellars, with brick walls and low ceilings. These places come alive by night, filling up with the sounds of jazz music and the smells of fresh-drawn beer.
Come to think of it, we have a sort of basement bar in the pink house too. I think I may have a new-found appreciation for the PLE.
#4 Planty - At the end of the 18th century, the administration decided to pull down the city's medieval walls which - frankly - were no longer needed to defend the city. In its place, they constructed a wall o' green - a two-mile strip of park that encircles the Old Town known as the Planty. Our flat was perched on the edge of the Planty, so this park became our preferred route to get just about anywhere, allowing us to bypass the crowds of tourists and school groups that swarmed the Old Town.
At home, we live on the edge of Lincoln Park. Apparently it was once a claypit, and it's now popular amongst dog-walkers and sunbathers.
#3 Zloty - Somehow, it's always more fun to spend money when the bills come in various colours. At home it's all green. Boooring.

#2 Maly Rynek - The so-called "small market" is a city square that is tucked into the Old Town, behind the Mariacki cathedral. (It provides a perfect vantage point to watch the bugler play.) It's just a few steps away from all the activity, yet it somehow manages to avoid the chaol and crowds that besiege the main market square.
#1 Polish class - Twice a week we would show up for two hours of vocab tests and grammar drills. In fact, it was more like two hours of playing games and telling jokes. Our ever-patient teacher Ola insisted that we speak Polish, which meant that half the time we were laughing and the other half we were lost. Thanks to Juergen for the photos and the fun!
At home, we speak only English. Sometimes that's funny too.

Post-it Note

2009-06-19T13:45:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - Krakow is plastered in posters announcing upcoming events and exhibits. In Poland, posters are not only advertisement, but art in and of themselves, often with a social or political message. Click here to see my photo gallery.

Back to Reality

2009-06-13T06:15:00.000-07:00

Somerville, Mass - I am done. Three months and three continents later, I am back in the pink house. Back to reality, as they say.
Reality is not so bad, I decided. Here are some highlights from the pink house:

1 - As might be expected, the yard was a mini-jungle when we returned. I was really looking forward to gettng out there and getting my hands dirty. I was dreaming about it (literally). After one long day of weeding and trimming, the garden is actually looking quite lovely. Gotta love those perennials!
2 - We hung our new Polish artwork in a pominent place in the living room, and it looks lovely too! The new addition to the Eastern European collection is a Rodzinsky, ladies and gentlemen. We made the acqaintance of the artist at an exhibit opening in Krakow and now we are proud owners of Murek (translation: little wall).
3 - I resumed my yoga practice and it feels fabulous - sore muscles and all. Have I mentioned how much I love Karma yoga studio in Cambridge?
4 - Three days after we arrived home, the mailman delivered the boxes that I sent from Africa. Very impressive timing, Mr Postman. The boxes contain bike gear, camping gear and - most importantly - my only pair of bike cleats. I was not sure how long I would have to wait before I could take the Klein Q out for a spin, but the answer is I don't have to wait at all.

5 - On the way home, we bought some Campari at Duty Free and we have started experimenting with recipes for lo spritz - with delightful results. If you recall, the spritz is the cocktail of choice in Venice - pro secco, fizzy water and bitters - and it is delish. Perfect for sipping out on the back terrace. I'm not sure why it took us a year to try this at home.
6 - The food being eaten in the pink house is unbelievable. We didn't really use our kitchen in Krakow, since my job was to review the restaurant scene. Actually, I figured out that I didn't eat home-cooked meals for three months, so now I'm making up for lost time. And my personal chef is rising to the occasion! Grilled steaks with corn on the cob, grilled shrimp over fresh lemon fettucini, grilled salmon with mango salsa and steamed asparagus, bolognese sauce over tri-colored rotini... this is making me hungry. Gotta go.

Back to Reality. Yawn.

2009-06-10T01:37:00.000-07:00

The Last Hurrah

2009-06-07T16:32:00.000-07:00

Szczawnica, Poland - In case you're wondering, it's pronounced shchavnit'sa and it's a village in the Pieniny Mountains. And - in case you're wondering - the Pieniny are a picturesque range in the Carpathians in southern Poland.

For our last weekend in Poland, we decided on a mountain getaway - two days of hiking, rafting and drinking mineral water with curative powers.
These curative powers are not a myth. Jerry had a miserable cold when we arrived; but after a day of sweating it out in the sauna and replenishing his fluids with "St Stefan" mineral water, he was like a new person. Here is the lady who mixed up the magic potion.

We chose Szczawnica because it's supposed to be less touristy than some of the better known mountain resorts in southern Poland. As we strolled down Main St, with its hotels and hokey souvenir shops and horse-drawn carriages, we had to smirk: Good thing we didn't go to the touristy place.
My favorite feature was the series of flower sculptures depicting the local fauna. Click here to see my photo essay.
Anyway, it really was a wonderful weekend. We went on long hikes on both days. The second one was supposed to be a short hike to see the sunrise, but we got a little "sidetracked" and it ended up being a long hike.
At least we saw the sunrise. Today we are celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary, so according to tradition, we get up to see the sunrise wherever we are in the world - even if it happens at 4am.
This afternoon we spent a delightful two hours floating down the Dunajec River, enjoying gorgeous views of the river gorge with the Tatra Mountains as a backdrop.
The raftsman was quite a ham. He had the boat in stitches for the much of the journey. Too bad we couldn't understand what he was saying.
We finished off with a lunch of grilled trout, straight from the Dunajec river. It was flaky and fresh and so flavorful, washed down with a cold Zywiec. Honestly, I think this was the best meal I have had in Poland. (No wisecracks about Polish cuisine, please!)

Highlights from Krakow

2009-06-03T21:49:00.000-07:00

Krakow, Poland - How time flies when you're having fun. It's hard to believe that I am in my final days in Krakow. One week from today, I will be home in the pink house.
Instead of trying to write a separate post about everything I have been up to, I decided to offer a list of highlights. A greatest hits, if you will.
1 - Wawel Castle. The number one tourist attraction in Krakow (as evidenced by the hordes of school groups running around). The grounds are gorgeous, as is the magnificent Wawel Cathedral, burial place of all of Poland's most prestigious leaders.
Here, you will also find the den of the dragon Smok. Legend has it that during the days of Prince Krak (the founder of Krakow), this dragon used to terrorize the town, his favorite feast being beautiful young virgins. The joke is that he starved to death.
But the more traditional legend is that Prince Krak foiled him by feeding him a sheep stuffed with sulfur. That must have been some explosion!
2 - Podgorze. Formerly an independent city, this neighborhood on the south shore of the Vistula River is a gem. It is starting to attract some attention, as it is the site of Schindler's Factory, where Oskar Schindler saved the lives of so many people during WWII. A long-awaited museum is set to open in the factory this fall, which will certainly draw the tourists. But for now, Podgorze is definitely off the beaten track.
We spent a day wandering. On the southern fringe of the city, we climbed Krak's mound, the legendary burial place of Prince Krak. (There are a lot of legends in Krakow.)
To the north, it offers a wonderful panorama of Krakow. To the south, it overlooks the vast, unkempt terrain of the former Plaszow concentration camp. The Nazis destroyed the camp as they retreated, but the grounds remain mostly untouched as a memorial to the many people who died here.
3 - Nowa Huta. This massive steel works was built by the communists during the 1950s, apparently in attempt to counter Krakow's intellectual tendencies. It's about 10km east of Krakow, but it feels like a different world. Actually, it feels like Russia, with the wide avenues and socialist realist architecture.
Nowa Huta was always disparaged by Krakovians, but it was here that workers' strikes and artist movements and pro-church demonstrations were most vociferous.
After several attempts at destruction, the statue of Lenin was finally removed in 1989. The ultimate insult: this central square is now named after Ronald Reagan. Ouch!

4 - Camaldolese Monastery - The Camaldolese monks are renowned for being hermits. Really. Their motto is Memento Mori: "Remember you must die". And just to make sure they remember, they sleep with the skulls of their predecessors in their cells.
The Camaldolese Monks live in seclusion. They pray together, but that's about it. There are five days a year that they might contact the outside world - if they wish.
The monastery is open to the public, but only to males of the species. Anyway, it's rare to come into contact with a monk. You might see him praying in the church, but he probably won't talk to you.
I visited the monastery on one of 12 days that it is open to women. There was one bushy-bearded monk entertaining a group of nun, but otherwise the place was pretty quiet.
5 - Auschwitz-Birkenau. It seems wrong to put these notorious camps on a list of highlights. The place is disturbing - no, distressing - but it's an essential part of Poland. As many as two million people died at this camp. Two million people.
I was disappointed with the museum at Auschwitz, which tends toward gruesome photos, without a lot of factual information or analysis (at least not in English). But it's very clear about explaining what different buildings were used for, what daily life entailed for the prisoners and the many many ways in which they were killed. And really, I guess that is the point.
While many people died at Auschwitz, it was primarily a concentration camp. By contrast, nearby Birkenau was a death camp, where people were herded off the trains and straight into the gas chamber. The place is vast. Most of the buildings were destroyed by the Nazis, but the grounds stretch out for miles. All that is left are the ruins of the gas chambers and crematoria, as well as a few barracks - a chilling reminder of the tragedy that took place here.

6 - Tyniec Monastery. Nobody is going to confuse the Benedictines with the Camaldolese Monks. These guys are making beer and honey to entice visitors up to their monastery, which overlooks the Vistula about 12km west of Krakow. I even saw one guy going into mass wearing Tevas with his kassock. (I was wondering if he noticed that we had the same shoes.)
There is a bike trail that follows the river all the way from Krakow to Tyniec and beyond. One sign said that it goes all the way to Budapest, but I figured that's an expedition for another day.

Christian Kazimierz

2009-05-23T09:01:00.000-07:00

Krakow, Poland - Kazimierz is famous as the Jewish quarter (as per my previous post), but the western part of town has always been traditionally Catholic.

Indeed, one of Krakow's most important churches is located here, on the banks of the Vistula River. This is the Church of SS Michael & Stanislaus - better known as Skalka, or "rock". This is the site of the martyrdom of the Bishop Stanislaw of Szczepanow, who is now the patron saint of Poland.
Back in the 11th century, there was a power struggle between the Bishop and the King. Some sources claim that this was actually a land dispute, in which the bishop resurrected a dead land owner to act as a witness on his behalf. (That does not really seem fair.) Other stories say that the bishop publicly chastised the king for his immoral behavior - bad move. In any case, the dispute resulted in the excommunication of King Boleslaw the Bold, which didn't do much for his political career.
The King decided to have the Bishop killed. I'm not sure Boleslaw really thought this through... did he really think that murdering the bishop would improve his moral standing?
Nonetheless he went through with it. The story goes that Stanslaw was saying Mass at the Skalka when Boleslaw slew him, cutting off his head and hacking his body to pieces. Sorry for the gory details, but it's an important part of the story. You can even see the tree trunk where the bishop was beheaded, as it is kept in a glass case next to the altar.

The parts were then tossed into the pond near the church. But upon entry into the holy water, the body miraculously reformed. Even today, this small pool near the church is said to have healing powers (though it stinks of sulphur).
People were obviously awed by this amazing display - as if resurrecting the dead land owner had not been enough. The late Stanislaw quickly developed a sort of cult following. In 1245, his remains were moved to a place of honor in Wawel Castle and in 1253 he was canonized.
Now he is honored every year on May 8, when the Bishop of Krakow leads a procession from Wawel Castle to the Skalka Church. He is the patron saint of Poland. And King Boleslaw the Bold gets nothin'.
The Skalka has become a sort of a national shrine. The crypt contains the tombs of many of Poland's greatest cultural figures, including composer Karol Szymanowski and painter Stanislaw Wyspianski. And the grounds contain a monument to the Top Five Polish Saints. Buy you a beer if you can name them.

Jewish Kazimierz

2009-05-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

Krakow, Poland - Krakow has seen a huge increase in tourism in recent years, and one of the drawcards is the city's Jewish heritage. Jews come by the busload - especially from Israel and from the US - to retrace their roots and to pay their respects to their brethren that were killed in the Holocaust.
Even visitors who are not Jewish want to visit the old Jewish quarter Kazimierz. Much of Schindler's List was filmed here, and every tour guide knows where the scenes were shot and where Spielberg stayed. Last week on my bike tour, the guide even brought along a portable DVD player so he could show us a scene while we were standing in the very same courtyard where it was shot.
The renewal of interest in Jewish heritage has led to a resurgence in Jewish culture in Krakow. There is a huge Jewish festival every year in June. The main thoroughfare of the Jewish quarter - ulica Szeroka - is lined with restaurants like Ariel and Klezmer-Hois - all of which promise Jewish cuisine and klezmer music.
I'm not exactly a connoisseur of Jewish cuisine, but Avi - my friend from Israel - claims these restaurants are not really authentic. (When I asked him where to get the best Jewish food in Krakow he answered "Come to my house.") Most of the synagogues are not active - although some house bookstores or exhibits with Jewish themes. There are no Jews playing in those klezmer bands. In fact, the total population of Jews in Krakow is estimated at 200 (down from about 60,000 in 1938).
There is a part of me that is put off by the phenomenon. I mean, I value authenticity when I travel, and this is clearly something that's being invented for the tourists. It seems sort of, well, fake.
At least that's what I thought until I read an interesting interview with Chris Schwarz, founder of the excellent Galicia Museum in Kazimierz. He said that "... it's very important to keep Jewish culture alive to remind the country of what it has lost and what it still retains."
It was 1264 when King Boleslaw invited Jews to settle in Poland. He recognized that their skills in accounting and administration would benefit his developing country, so he granted unprecedented rights and protections to the Jewish people. Slowly but surely, they started migrating east and settled in Poland, especially as they got kicked out of other places like England, Germany, Spain and Italy. Anyway, that's about 800 years of history and culture which are being sustained by about 200 people!
I spent a day wandering around Kazimierz (sans tour guide) to discover "what it has lost and what it still retains."
The Remuh Synagogue, founded in 1553, is an excellent place to start. This tiny building is the only functioning synagogue in Krakow, which is a pretty good indication of something that has been lost.
But it is active. It's honors and remembers the celebrated 16th-century scholar Rabbi Moses Isserles Auerbach, who is buried here. Pilgrims still come to visit the grave and pay their respects to the esteemed teacher. This history has been retained.
The Galicia museum is a few blocks off the main drag of ulica Szeroka. Schwarz was a British Jew who moved here in 2004 to open this museum (though he has since died). When I visited, there were several intriguing exhibits, but the best was a collection of Schwarz's photographs Traces of Memory.
These contemporary photographs capture the remnants of Jewish culture in Poland today. There were the obvious Jewish cemeteries and Holocaust memorials, but there were also street signs in Hebrew and synagogues in ruins ... poignant reminders of what once was - what has been lost. But there were also snippets of contemporary Jewish life - festivals and fairs that are sustaining these memories. What has been retained.

The Trumpeter of Krakow

2009-05-17T02:09:00.000-07:00

Krakow, Poland - The centrepiece of the central square, the Mariacki Cathedral has become the very symbol of Krakow. This Gothic beauty dates to the 14th century, but another church occupied the same spot for 100 years before that. Its interior is resplendent with stained glass windows by Wyspianski and murals by Jan Matejko, not to mention the elaborate wooden alterpiece. This masterpiece by Veit Stoss is considered the finest example of medieval art in Poland.
Every hour on the hour, a bugler plays a haunting melody from the Mariacki steeple. The Heynal is a simple tune - just five notes - that dates back as far as the church. It is played four times, once in each direction, and was perhaps a signal of the opening and closing of the city gates. Some sources claim that bugle calls were also used to sound alarms.
The tune ends oddly and abruptly, its final note cut off without conclusion. Nobody knows why, but it has given rise to an intriguing legend.
The story goes that the bugler played the heynal to warn of an attack by marauding Mongols. As he sounded the alarm, he was shot, his heart pierced with an arrow and his warning cut short.
It's a fantastic and romantic story that has been embraced by all of Krakow. In fact I have a painting hanging in my living room that depicts this legend.
Alas, it is only a legend, I learned on my tour last week. Not only that, it was invented by an American writer, Eric Kelly, in his 1929 children's book The Trumpeter of Krakow. Leave it to the American to come up with a good story to market the city.
From my flat, I can here the bugler playing the heynal. I can also hear the bells on Sunday morning calling me to Mass.
I haven't been to church in months, and I didn't realize how much I have missed the ritual, the community, the music. Of course, in Poland I can't really understand what they are preaching (which may be one reason I feel so welcome at the Catholic church here!)
But the rituals are the same. The community and even the music are the same. Connecting with people is connecting with God. And one way to make this connection is to share their rituals - the same rituals that I grew up with in a different language halfway around the world.

Krakow by Bike

2009-05-15T08:50:00.000-07:00

Krakow, Poland - I finally did it. I dared to get back on a bike. It's been exactly three weeks since I finished my epic bike ride across Africa. And since I left my Bianchi in Namibia, I have not had any chance (or desire) to ride since I completed that 942nd mile.
But I think I have sufficiently recovered by now. So I signed up for a bike tour of Krakow.
Biking is almost always a great way to get an overview of a city. Certainly it is my favorite way to introduce visitors to Boston. Like Boston, Krakow is fairly compact. So when traveling by bike you can see almost all the sights of interest in a couple of hours.
Four hours to be exact. Four hours traveling at a very leisurely pace, with many stops along the way. Just the way I like it.
We started in the Rynek Glowny, the central square of the Old Town, in the shade of the Mariacki steeple. At certain times you can climb to the top of the steeple, I learned, but not today. Save that activity for a future date.
From there, we pedaled out to the Planty, the park that circles the Old Town. Today I learned that the park used to be a massive wall - the fortification that encircled the medieval city. The wall was dismantled in the beginning of the 19th century, and now it is a pleasant green space.
The wall still exists in a few places. Most significantly, the Florian Gate used to be the main entrance for royal processions. It is the only gate remaining from the old city wall (which we already know since my flat is right across the street!)
After circling the Old Town, we headed south to the Vistula River, which has lovely bike paths running along both banks - in on direction running as far as the lovely Tyniec Monastery. That bike trip is definitely on my list for future fun.
For today, we rode a few kilometers south to Kazimierz, the historic Jewish quarter. There are only about 200 Jews living in Krakow these days - this down from about 75,000 before WWII. Nonetheless, it's still an important place for Jewish heritage and history. It's also an important place for drinking and nightlife - add that to the list for future exploration.
Then we went across the river to Podgorze, which was the site of the Jewish ghetto during WWII, as well as the point of deportation for thousands of Jews. There are now a few interesting museums, including a new one that is housed in Schindler's factory of Spielberg film fame. Unfortunately it was closed (add it to the list).
From there we headed back across the river and into the Old Town. The total distance was about 15 kilometers - almost 10 miles. It was not exactly the kind of mileage I am used to, but it was a great overview of the main sights of the city. At least it helped me to compile a list of places that I will be returning to explore in the coming weeks.

Next Stop, Krakow

2009-05-12T01:11:00.000-07:00

Krakow, Poland - After 30-plus hours on airplanes and in airports, I arrived in Krakow, where spring is in full bloom. Considering the complexity of the trip - with stops in Singapore, Abu Dhabi and Frankfurt - everything went amazingly smoothly, with nary a delayed flight or lost suitcase.
In retrospect I am grateful for that transition time. I think I needed the chance to make the shift... from Southern Hemisphere to Northern Hemisphere, from play mode to work mode, from English-speaking to foreign-language-speaking, from driving on the left to driving on the right...
Incidentally, one thing I did to pass the time was to brush up on my Polish skills by listening to Berlitz language tapes. Yes, you read correctly... tapes. Just before I left my house so many weeks ago, I dug out the Polish tapes I had bought nine years ago before my first trip to Poland (and my first Lonely Planet assignment, by the way). Now what am I going to do with a cassette tape, I wondered? I know there is a way to digitize it, but I didn't have the time or the equipment to do it.
Lo and behold, Jerry came to the rescue, digging out his old Walkman! And it worked! I stuffed it into the bottom of my bag, and it turned out to be the perfect way to pass the time and to aid the transition. Technology shmeknology.
Touching down in Krakow, I moved into a little flat on the edge of the Old Town. It's quite charming really, with a view of the Florian Gate from my balcony. As you can read in your Lonely Planet guide, the Florian Gate is the only surviving gate from the city's old defensive walls.
To be honest, I'm feeling a little lost here in Krakow. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I mean, I know I have a book to write, so there is plenty to do. But my days are wide open. When I wake up in the morning, I'm very aware that I don't have a train to catch, a workshop to attend or a hundred miles to ride. Very strange.
Of course I'm never one to wallow too much in my free time. So I promptly signed up for Polish lessons and I had my first class last night. So it won't be long before I will striking up conversations with strangers on the street.

Some Surprises about Oz

2009-05-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

Brisbane, Queensland - A few observations as I depart from Oz...

1 - People really do say "G'day Mate"

2 - Aussies are amazingly like Americans. I don't know why I had the impression that Australia was sophisticated. Seriously, my well-educated and well-traveled colleagues in Melbourne are not really representative of the population at large. Outside the LP office, most people I met were farmers, truck drivers and construction workers. Most had never left the island. Like America, Australia is so big that the locals don't feel the need to leave. Plus it is so far away that they often don't have the means.

3 - A vegemite sandwhich tastes kind of like beer on bread.

4 - I didn't see any kangaroos or koalas, but I did see kookaburras! And I heard them too. Laugh, kookaburra, laugh, kookaburra, gay your life must be.

(Not my video but you get the idea.)

The Sundowner

2009-05-08T14:56:00.001-07:00

Brisbane, Queensland - Train travel is so civilized. Sure, it took me 20 hours to get from Airlie Beach to Brisbane, but they were 20 happy hours.

I boarded the Sunlander in Proserpine around 9pm. The beds were already made up in my berth, so I read for a while but was soon lulled to sleep by the gentle rhythms of the train. When I awoke, the sun was up and we were whizzing along between Rockhampton and Gladstone - already halfway there.

While I enjoyed breakfast in the dining car, the beds were converted into seats, so we were ready to start the day upon return to the cabin.

I had some business to take care of so I spent most of the day working. Mind you, these were the best working conditions that I have had all week (much quieter and more comfortable than the common room at the hostel in Airlie Beach!) The scenery floating by was quite wonderful - farmland planted with pineapples, tomatoes and macadamia trees; rolling hills covered with brush; and vast plains dotted with rocky outposts. Arrival in Brisbane was a half-hour early!

From Brisbane I am flying to Krakow (with three stops on the way!) for the next leg of my intercontinental journey. I only wish I could take the train there... Starting tomorrow, I am looking at about 30 hours in airplanes and airports, which somehow are not nearly so civilized.

Sea Kayak

2009-05-07T14:56:00.000-07:00

Airlie Beach, Queensland - For my last day in Airlie Beach I decided to frolic once again with the fish and the sea turtles. This time, the idea was to skim the surface in a sea kayak, cruising over the reef, but stopping here and there to snorkel and swim.

Unfortunately the weather did not really cooperate. Once again, the wind was really strong, meaning the waves were big, the water was choppy and the turtles were sleeping. So there was no snorkelling or swimming – just hard paddling in choppy waters. And straight into a headwind, for starters.

That was hard work! The waves were tossing us all over the place, splashing up into the kayak, pushing us precariously into the rocky islands if we got too close. Much of our route went across open water, which meant a flat-out fight against the wind. Exciting but exhausting!

We paddled 2.5km out to a little island – unnamed and officially not an island but just a rock, according to our guide. Still, it was big enough to climb around and explore, with a cool lookout over the bay.

After a picnic, we paddled back to the harbor. By now the sun was shining and wind was at our backs, so the return trip was more of the serene experience I was looking for. Still no turtles, though.

Whitsunday Sail

2009-05-05T05:26:00.000-07:00

Airlie Beach, Queensland - Just back from two days sailing around the Whitsunday Islands. This place is really spectacular - turquoise blue waters sprinkled with green forested hillocks. Apparently there is an ancient Aboriginal legend about how these islands were formed...
We sailed in a small racing boat called Iceberg, with Luke as our skipper and Cam as deckhand. Iceberg is different from most of the other boats because it only takes 12 passengers, and it guarantees more time under power of the wind. Indeed, the wind was blowing at about 25 knots, which meant that we were chugging right along, often at a 45-degree angle, with water rushing up over the sides of the boat. It often felt like the boat was on the verge of tipping - or at least that you might tumble overboard if you didn't hang on tight.
In the morning of the first day we sailed to the aptly named Blue Pearl Bay, a beautiful crystalline bay surrounded by rocky cliffs. This was the first of two snorkeling spots for the day. We were all advised to wear stinger suits as protection from the jelly fish. (I think it makes me look like a professional snorkeler.)
The water was a bit cloudy, but the array of colorful coral and flashy fish was amazing: giant irridescent clams, parrotfish in a million different hues, a huge napoleon fish and countless little colorful creatures that I will never remember, much to Jerry's chagrin. And yes, the ostentatious orange clown fish. After lunch we sailed to Langford Spit for a rest on the beach and another communion with the fish.
That night we anchored in Cid Harbor, which was so peaceful compared to the winds we had experienced all day. I was a little worried about getting seasick sleeping on the boat... but in fact it was just like sleeping in a cradle, with the gentle waves rocking me to sleep.
In the morning of Day 2 we sailed to Tongue Bay (where we saw sea turtles!), which is on the backside of Whitsunday Island. From here was could go ashore and hike across the island to the stunning Whitehaven Beach. I had heard so much about this beach I was skeptical it would live up to the hype. But it was indeed one of the most spectacular beaches I have ever seen, just as Luke promised. It is a seven-mile strip of the finest white sand, backed by green forested hills and fronted by turquoise blue waters.

Locals are justifiably proud of this pristine paradise. In fact, Luke explained that we had to anchor on the backside of the island because boats are forbidden from anchoring off the beach and spoiling the picture-perfect view.
Not only is the place jaw-dropping gorgeous, it also offered the ultimate beach climate: hot sun, cool breeze and warm waters. I could have stayed in the water all day, riding the surf.
But we had a schedule to keep. Onward to Dumbell Island and then homeward. The sail home was pretty exciting, as we sailed into a storm (just to make the experience really authentic - no whitewashed tourist experience for us!). So we donned our yellow slickers and toughed it out in the rain. I thought it was sort of fun but everybody was cold and wet (that was nothing compared to my last day of cycling in the rain and hail). Here I am doing an imitation of the Gloucester fisherman.

From Africa to Australia

2009-05-01T06:33:00.000-07:00

Melbourne, Australia - I'm sure my faithful readers have been wondering what happened to me since I finished my epic bikeride across Africa. It's hard to believe that it has already been a week since Tom and I passed the virtual baton to Xiao Biar and Ethan Gelber, the next and final participant riding for the Lonely Planet team. These two are now en route from Windhoek, Namibia to Cape Town, South Africa, where they will ride across the finish line on our behalf.

That afternoon I flew out to Johannesburg, and onward to Australia, for the next phase of my inter-continental journey.

This week I have been participating in an author workshop at Lonely Planet's headquarters in Melbourne. I can't post any photos, unfortunately, since it's top secret stuff that has been going on here. But needless to say, it has been an incredible week. It's not often that we authors have an opportunity to interact with each other, so we really made the most of our time: working all day and playing all night. I have slept very little, but we all agreed that this is no time for sleeping.

It has been exciting to meet LP's new CEO and to learn about some of the future plans for the company. Besides the regular workshop stuff, I have been answering editor queries about Boston, working with cartographers to prepare maps for Krakow, submitting the film footage we shot for Lonely Planet TV during the Tour d'Afrique and brainstorming ideas about future filming possibilities. It was a pretty shocking return to reality after a month in Africa.

Now tell me the truth... you didn't really think I would come all the way to Australia without stopping in to see the fish at the Great Barrier Reef... did you?

Tomorrow I fly to the Whitsunday Island for a week of sun and fun. Sadly I had to borrow a computer from LP so I can work on author queries while I'm there... but somehow I imagine they will be so much more tolerable when I am sitting on a beach!

A Few Photos for my Faithful Readers

2009-04-25T23:25:00.000-07:00

Windhoek, Namibia - In case anybody is wondering who Hungry Hyena is, I met him and his mate when we were driving across Chobe National Park.

And for all you Botswana birders out there (all two of you), here is the lilac-breasted roller you requested. He's a beauty, isn't he?

Bikes for Everyone

2009-04-24T07:34:00.000-07:00

Windhoek, Namibia - When all was said and done, I managed to raise more than $4000 for BEN-Namibia. This is thanks to the incredible generosity of my family and friends and a few strangers too. I was so grateful for this outpouring of support, and it was one of the things that kept me pedaling all those miles and miles!

Right before I started the ride, I received this note from Michael Linke, the director of BEN-Namibia:

Michael Linke wrote:

Hi Mara,

That's amazing! You're an incredible fundraiser, and this news has made my day! I'm cc'ing Clarisse here, as I'm off to Canada today so it would be best to communicate with her if you need to do any follow up before you arrive. We can allocate more bicycles with the money you have raised (TDA is funding 60) we should be able to deliver around 44 more. This includes assembling the bikes with the healthcare volunteers and providing them with tools and training in bike mechanics.

We hope to have representatives from the organisations receiving bikes attend the handover ceremony (though many are more than 1,000km from Windhoek). The bikes themselves are still on the way from China, but we'll have a few of the same model on display on the day. We'll certainly give you reports and photos so you can feed back to your supporters.

Thanks again, and enjoy the ride!

Michael

PS we can certainly find a good home for your bike, thanks very much.

As Michael mentioned, the Tour d'Afrique foundation also provided some funding to donate bikes to BEN, so there was a small "ceremony" in Windhoek. It was actually more of a meeting, as there were only a few people present. But it did give me an opportunity to meet a few representatives from the organizations that will be receiving the bikes. These NGOs operate in the distant corners of rural Namibia - one providing outreach and support for disabled individuals, and another providing treatment and education for HIV/AIDS patients. I am pictured here with the two NGO reps, as well as Henry Gold, the founder and director of the Tour d'Afrique.

I also said goodbye to my own trusty bike. It was a rather sentimental moment, as my baby Bianchi has been with me for about 15 years. She was one of the first gifts that Jerry ever bought for me when we first started dating. And now she had carried me almost 1000 miles across the deserts and deltas of southern Africa. But I could think of no more fitting finish than to turn her over to some volunteer or health care worker, who will continue to ride her for years to come.

Day 10: Witvlei to Windhoek

2009-04-23T10:54:00.000-07:00

Windhoek, Namibia - The last riding day. Ten out of ten. Although we had another long day - 159km (another century!) - today was the first day that I felt confident I would finish. I was so sure that I could do it, just because it was the last day, and I have already done so much.

Life is full of irony though, isn't it?

For starters, I was operating on minimal sleep, due to the hurricane that had swept across the Kalahari the night before. My wet sleeping bag did not make for the most comfy quarters. I was not a happy camper - literally.

Fortunately, it had cleared by morning and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. Probably because I spent most of the night willing that to happen (please don't let it be raining tomorrow, please don't let it be raining tomorrow...) And in fact it was not raining but the wind was brutal. Apparently the prevailing winds are from the east, so they should have been at our back, but these were 30kmh crosswinds. I rode with Viv and we struggled all morning.

About 40km outside of Windhoek, we rode past the airport. We had been warned to expect an increase in traffic and a change in terrain. There are gorgeous rolling hills in the outskirts of the city - but apparently Windhoek sits atop a sort of plateau, so that means more ascending than descending.

The traffic did not seem too bad at first, and I was even enjoying the changing landscape. You can see the top of a hill and it's usually followed by a cool coast down - both of which make it much more manageable than the incessant fight against the wind. What I did not like was the ominous storm cloud that hung over our heads. As we surmounted each hill, we could see the flash of lightning in the distance, and the thunder gradually got louder and louder.

Then the rain started. Of course I had left my water proof gear in the truck since it had been such a sunny morning. I was soaked within about five minutes, and it was cold.

Then the hail started. I could hear the pitter-patter of ice pellets hitting my head and I was grateful I was wearing a helmet.

Meanwhile, the traffic had increased as we got closer to the city, and the cars were wizzing by on the narrow highway at top speed. The sky was so dark - with pouring rain and steamy window - I'm sure the drivers could not see us until they were already past. For the first time I felt like I was doing something really risky - not just challenging but potentially dangerous. Plus I was drenched. And freezing.

Viv and I pulled over when we spotted some other riders huddled under a tree. Having ridden every inch since Cairo, they were going to wait for the weather to clear then continue. But I had no interest in shivering under a tree for a few hours. I had reached my limit.

So Viv and I flagged down a truck who gave us (and our bikes) a lift into camp. My odometer said 125km.

So in the end I did not ride 1547km across Africa, but only 1512km. I came up about 22 miles short. Still that's about 940 miles by my calculations, so I think I can live with that.

Within 10 minutes of getting in the truck, the sky cleared and the sun came out. I was kicking myself.

Then 10 minutes later it was pouring raining again, and I was so relieved to be sitting in the safety and comfort of the truck. Upon arrival at camp, I celebrated with a hot shower - the first one in about three weeks. I stood under it for about 45 minutes so I think I made up for lost time.

Day 9: Botswana Border to Witvlei Namibia

2009-04-22T08:30:00.000-07:00

Witvlei, Namibia - They really don't make it easy. After riding 207km yesterday you would think that we might have an easy day or two. But no... I had to complete two more centuries before I am done.

Today's distance was 162km. It was tough - really tough. Usually the morning flies by quickly but today I was struggling before lunch. I was temporarily revived by lunch, and I enjoyed a really nice ride to the town of Gobabis (cow capital of Namibia - moo). There we enjoyed a long break, complete with chocolate milkshakes. Alas, after Gobabis we had to make a turn and it felt like the wind was against us for the rest of the day.

But it's fun to be in a new country and the landscape is definitely changing. Today as we rode into Witvlei we could see mountains in the distance. And we even had a few hills to climb (more promised for tomorrow). I never thought I would say it, but I actually enjoyed that climbing and coasting.

We received a very warm welcome in Witvlei, complete with dancing provided by the local children.

The owner of the lodge promised us a peaceful night... which was ironic considering the storm that hit in the middle of the night! My tent was blowing all over the place and I had to go out twice to restake. Meanwhile, the rainwater collected on my groundcover and slowly but surely seeped into my tent. I was protected only by my air mattress, which kept most of my body off the wet ground but everything else - sleeping bag, tent and clothes - were a soggy mess. Not exactly what I expected from the Kalahari Desert!

Day 8: Ghanzi, Botswana to Namib Border

2009-04-21T08:34:00.000-07:00

Botswana-Namibian border - Today was the longest day ever. I don't mean it was the longest distance I have ever ridden. I already did that last week. Twice. But today was not only the longest distance I have ever ridden - but also the longest distance I will ever ride again. In fact, it was the longest distance in the entirety of the Tour d'Afrique: 207km. That's 129 miles if anybody is counting.

There was a palpable excitement in the camp for the extra long day. Breakfast was served early so we could get on the road before sunrise. It was really amazing to watch the sun come up over the desert as we pedalled. I rode with my girls - Sonia, Isabelle and Viv - but our pelaton grew throughout the day, which was great. The more people, the more power to the pelaton.

We slogged it out for almost 10 hours. And at the end of the day, we crossed into Namibia. Our camp was just over the border, and other riders were there to cheer us as we entered camp.

Day 7: Bush Camp to Ghanzi

2009-04-20T10:19:00.000-07:00

Ghanzi, Botswana - Apparently some of the riders have been complaining about the monotonous landscape, so the TDA staff decided to add some excitement to our lives by creating a Battle of Nations. Basically it was a 20 kilometer time trial that each team would ride. Each person on the team had to lead the group for at least 1km, and the time was recorded for the first three riders over the line. To add some spice, we were also encouraged to take creative photos and complete other tasks for extra bonus points.

What I really loved about this experience is that there are only four Americans on this tour - not nearly enough to compete with the dozens of Canadians and many Brits and South Africans. So the four of us were placed on a team with some other randoms - one Australian, one Dane, one Belgian guy - and together we made up Team World.

I thought it was so cool to be on the World Team. Everybody else had to sing their national anthems. We decided to sing "We are the World". Indeed, this was really my main contribution to the team, as I was the only one who knew all the lyrics so I could write them out for the rest of the team. We are the world, we are the children...

Alas, in the end, Team World could not compete with the Canadians or the South Africans. But we were just happy that we were not in last place. That would be the Dutch, and they had to make tea for the Canadians as their punishment.

As for the creative photos, you can see my contribution: me doing a helmet stand. This was not quite as entertaining (read: risque) as what the other teams came up with. Check it out on the official TDA blog.

By the way, after we were done with the fun and games, we rode an additional 122km, for a total of 140km (88 miles).

Day 6: Maun to Bush Camp

2009-04-19T08:38:00.000-07:00

Central Kalahari Game Reserve, Botswana - After one decadent day, it was not so easy to get back on the bike, especially since there was another long ride on the agenda. Today we rode 157km - just short of a century.

Alas, the rest day served me well, because I had a fantastic riding day. I rode all day with a threesome - Sonia, Isabella and Viv. Last week I was not able to keep up with them, but today I was. I think I'm getting stronger!

The road continues to be straight and flat. The landscape is mostly scrubby brush, with cows and donkeys and horses instead of wildlife.

But there is evidence that we are getting closer to the Namibian border, as we passed many people of the Herero nation, easily recognizable by their fancy dress.

Hooray for Rest Day

2009-04-18T08:53:00.000-07:00

Maun, Botswana - Wow, today was so chill. It was everything a rest day should be. I slept in until 7:30. (That's right, I said "slept in"). Then I had a huge breakfast. Then I had a deep tissue massage, courtesy of a big bosomy Zimbabwean woman. Then - as promised - I spent the entire afternoon reading my novel, with the occasional cooling dip. I'm a little sad that it's almost over.

By the way, if my adventures are a bit too tame for your tastes, check into the Lonely Planet TDA blog to read about how my teamate Tom missed the turn into camp and "accidentally" rode an extra 107km to Maun. That's right, folks, we publish travel guidebooks.

Day 5: Bush Camp to Maun

2009-04-17T04:25:00.000-07:00

Maun, Botswana - Today was the probably the toughest day yet for me. It wasn't the longest day... We rode 135km (84 miles), which is so short compared to yesterday's ride. But it was tough.

For starters, after four days of riding, I am beat. My legs are worn out. My butt is sore. And I am suffering from the same woes that eventually befall all cyclers: saddle sores. Ouch!

Second, the scenery is lovely but it is monotonous when you are riding through it for 6-8 hours a day. This Elephant Highway could do with a few more elephants to add some excitement. (Alternatively, they could change the name to Cow Highway, which would also be an apt description.)

Plus, it was the last ride before a rest day. I think I started to let my guard down, looking forward to taking a day off before I actually finished. the morning was fine, but after lunch I still had 2-3 hours of riding. It was HOT and I was BEAT. Plus the tailwind we had yesterday had disappeared. If anything it felt like a headwind.

It helps a lot to take short breaks, stretch the legs and eat a power bar. But I reached the point where I was stopping every hour, then on the half-hour... At one point I started to cry, as I still had at least 90 minutes of riding before I reached my destination. I hadn't seen another rider since lunch and I feared I might be last... I dreaded the idea of the sweep sneaking up on me.

Then on the horizon I saw a few riders in the distance who were taking pitstop. I was overjoyed to see that it was a group of women I had ridden with - for short stints - during the last few days. I confesed to them that I was beat and Sonia offered to let me draft off of her. We formed a paceline that pulled me into Maun. It was amazing really... Just when I started to think that I was really never ever going to make it, these three strong women rallied around me and pulled me in. Again, the collective energy is so much greater than the sum of the parts.

I have not actually made it to camp yet, since I stopped at the internet cafe in town. But I am looking forward to spending my rest day poolside. Five days down, five to go!

By the way, I have a speedy connection here so I'm going to try to post some photos from our safari. Please peruse past posts to see some of the highlights that I was not able to post earlier.