Category: world

  • a garden path (and a story of getting lost in Provence)

    a garden path (and a story of getting lost in Provence)

    “A garden path,’ write the landscape architects Charles W. Moore, William J. Mitchell, and William Turnbull, ‘can become the thread of a plot, connecting moments and incidents into a narrative. The narrative structure might be a simple chain of events with a beginning, middle, and end. It might be embellished with diversions, digressions, and picaresque twists, be accompanied by parallel ways (subplots), or deceptively fork into blind alleys like the alternative scenarios explored in a detective novel.”
    — Rebecca Solnit (Wanderlust: A History of Walking)

    That first night in Provence was one that continually unfolded…

    First, there was the dinner at the roadside restaurant that was reputed to have some ‘good’ food, but was one of the better meals that I’ve had, the food served in a back garden surrounded by roses, the wine coming from the next vineyard (from “right over there,” the waiter explained a gestured to the vines that were just beyond the terrace where we sat).

    Then there was the nighttime wander around the old walled city of Mazan. In the dark it was so beautiful–every corner more charming than the one before. I snapped a few pics in the dark, knowing that I didn’t have the right lens for the dark lighting, but wanting to capture the mood, nonetheless.

    Then there was the getting lost on the way back to the chambre d’hotes in the countryside. I learned that it’s a lot tougher to fine one’s way on narrow Provence ‘streets’ in the dark. That led to coming upon a small village fair in St. Didier–a place that I didn’t even know existed until losing my way and landing there. It looked as though all of the locals were out–teenagers gathered in dark corners, smoking, and older folks clapping their hands to the somewhat hoky musical performances on a small stage. There was cotton candy and carnival games. And no one seemed to notice the American stranger in their midst…

    And, finally, there was A Cappella farm (after many detours and meanderings). I decided that even though the night was more than spent, I would still keep my plan to swim in the pool behind the house by starlight. It took forever to find my way down the stone garden steps in the dark (and I will confess to saying more than a few swear words as I stumbled along the path and hoped that no critters would jump out at me in the dark), but it was well worth the fear and trouble.

    Because if one has the opportunity for a dip in the pool in the dark in Provence after a time of being lost and then being found, then one just has to take that chance when it comes–even if it’s a bit cold and dark and spidery along the pathway…

  • Last night in Europe…

    Last night in Europe…

    I didn’t take my camera with me last night, the final night of my Europe trip.  I’d had a long day of snapping pictures and sightseeing in Bruges, and I needed a change.  I was also realizing how, sometimes, being behind the lens stops me from actually experiencing and feeling what’s happening around me.  So I left the camera at home, put on a fancy dress and stockings, and headed to a  gourmet restaurant for a few hours of food-gasm.

    Everything tasted so good (artichokes, shrimp, Swiss beef…), the wine was smooth, the service impeccable.   I sopped every last drip of sauce with slices of fresh bread.  My face was flushed with much pleasure as I stepped out onto the breezy dark streets of Brussels, to join new friends at a local bar. They mostly asked me stories about my LDS upbringing–so curious about the Book of Mormon and ancient-modern prophets.  And I told them how, when I was Mormon I never could’ve imagined that someday I would have professional and personal opportunities that would bring me to foreign cities, or that I would even have a paycheck of my own. Back then I couldn’t have comprehended a night that would include so much pleasure, so much culture, so much living.

    I got teary-eyed several times yesterday, mostly because I wasn’t yet ready to go home. But also because of the intensity of change…I lack the words to describe how I’m feeling.  Like now, having just arrived home and I’m here sitting in my living room and burying my face in the blue shawl that I wore throughout my trip…and am hoping that it will long retain the scent of last night.

  • Climbing the steps to Sacre Coeur

    Climbing the steps to Sacre Coeur

     

    Jana Takes Europe 424, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    A favorite memory from my Europe travels: arriving in Paris in the early evening and then wandering Montmarte, climbing every single step to the top of the hill & then being overwhelmed at just how beautiful the city looked from up above. Then, walking the canals until settling on a small cafe for a traditional French meal. And much later, walking back to the hotel and realizing how tempting it was to stay up all night, my only night in Paris on this trip.
    I know it’s sappy and romantic to have such huge affection for Paris…but every time I’m there, I simply can’t help myself…

  • by leaving our safety net…

    by leaving our safety net…

    Oh, I love this article and the connections it draws between lust and wanderlust. I’ve done a bit of that myself, these past few months, so I can relate to Eaves’ stories–there’s something so fresh with potential when meeting someone new while traveling…

    Written on five small sheets of yellow notepaper, the letter read in part: “By leaving our safety net, we have thrown our souls upon the wind, exposing ourselves to all of the fears and dangers that we sought to protect each other from, and in doing so, we have made ourselves available to experience things that … border on the magical.”

  • if you’re afraid of loneliness, don’t travel

    if you’re afraid of loneliness, don’t travel

    The wish to travel seems to me characteristically human: the desire to move, to satisfy your curiosity or ease your fears, to change the circumstances of your life, to be a stranger, to make a friend, to experience an exotic landscape, to risk the unknown, to bear witness to the consequences, tragic or comic, of people possessed by the narcissism of minor differences. Chekhov said, “If you’re afraid of loneliness, don’t marry.” I would say, if you’re afraid of loneliness, don’t travel. The literature of travel shows the effects of solitude, sometimes mournful, more often enriching, now and then unexpectedly spiritual.
    ~Paul Theroux

    Photo of one of my all-time favorite trips to Canterbury, England. Such an important journey for my pilgrim soul.

  • a fool’s paradise

    a fool’s paradise

    We all know how we can be turned around by a magic place; that’s why we travel, often. And yet we all know, too, that the change cannot be guaranteed. Travel is a fool’s paradise, Emerson reminded us, if we think that we can find anything far off that we could not find at home. The person who steps out into the silent emptiness of Easter Island is, alas, too often the same person who got onto the plane the day before at Heathrow, red-faced and in a rage.

    Yet still the hope persists and sends us out onto the road: certain places can so shock or humble us that they take us to places inside ourselves, of terror or wonder or the confounding mixture of them both, that we never see amidst the hourly distractions and clutter of home. They slap us awake, and into a recognition of who we might be in our deepest moments. I will never forget walking out onto the terrace of my broken guest-house in Lhasa, in 1985, and seeing the Potala Palace above what was then just a cluster of traditional whitewashed Tibetan houses, its thousand windows seeming to watch over us. I will never forget, too, visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem two years ago and feeling, whether I wanted to or not, all the prayers, hopes and complications that people had brought to it. The place is as dark, irregular and everyday as the fights it houses — as worldly and human as the Potala seems the opposite — and yet the very fact that so many millions have come for centuries to pray and sob among its flickering candles ensures that many more will do so, even if, like me, they’re not Christian or Buddhist or anything.”
    ~From Pico Iyer

    Photo from my trip to China in 2005–the first time I traveled sans spouse and children. And, such an important journey for me…

  • francophilia & future dreams

    francophilia & future dreams

    Recently I told a friend the story of the print that hangs on my bedroom wall.  It’s a Mary Cassatt, called “Summertime,” and I purchased the print in the spring of 1987.  How do I remember that date so well?  Because I’d just turned 16 and attended a local painting exhibit with a boyfriend–my first real ‘date.’  And the first time I remember seeing art hanging in a gallery.  I saw my first Titian and my first Rembrandt, and the accompanying music was beautiful.  Sort of as if I was seeing the world in a new way, to see how painters viewed it.  So my mother bought the print for me and framed it and it’s hung in my home ever since.

    Cassatt’s painting resonated with me at some level because of the water–nearly every art-print that I’ve ever bought has a lake/ocean/canal theme.  But it also meant something important to me because of who she was–an American woman who traveled to Paris to study her craft.  She inspired me to reach higher than my own smallish ambitions and to dream of living abroad someday.  Although I’d already begun studying the French language by the time I encountered Cassatt, her work cemented my desire to learn that language and fostered an enduring passion for French culture, too.

    When I first committed to returning to school ten years ago, it was no surprise that the first classes I took were to hone up my French.  And then I had the serendipity of finding an amazing French teacher, who understood the power of big dreams (and I just now googled Jody to find a link to her book and learned that she died in March.  Oh. Ouch. I’d long dreamed of getting ‘caught up’ with her again…).
    She wrote, of her book:

    “There was a theme that was being played out on a daily basis in the lives of practically every woman I knew (not to mention my own): how can a woman satisfy the demands of the creative will and still preserve an intimate life? All the women I interviewed were driven in one direction or another by the fierce imperative of the creative will – whether to art, literature, psychology, or music. And all of them refused to sacrifice the private dimension of their lives: all were unwilling to give up the intimate and sexual rewards of a woman’s life…These interviews document the joys and difficulties of being a productive human being in the shape of a woman.” 

  • Wear sunscreen…

    Wear sunscreen…

    Some advice from a friend for my upcoming trip: “Do something every day that scares you” (and, wear sunscreen)…. I especially think that sunscreen advice is going to come in handy as I try out my very first European beach! ;-)

     

    Picture of me above, taken on a happy afternoon while at the Annenberg Photography Space in Santa Monica.

  • yes!

    yes!



    My friend Erin inaugurated The Summer of YES and I’m following suit.  The basic premise is to say YES to whatever opportunities the universe offers (a practice that I endorse wholeheartedly).  So in that spirit, I’m committing to doing two YES-type of things everyday while I’m traveling in Europe.  First of all, I’ll make sure to say YES to trying a new food at least once per day.  And second, I’ll say YES to doing one new thing everyday that I either haven’t done before, or that scares me.  This will not be the same kind of trip-to-Europe-with-the-family with a strict itinerary and a list of ‘must-do’ tourist attractions–although I’ve enjoyed each of those, this is going to be my first venture abroad sans family and sans touristy expectations!  Instead, I’m going to let my travels challenge and provoke me in new ways, and I’ll spend some time touring without a firm plan of where I’ll even end up that night and just see what adventures happen along the way…

    It’s my intention to report daily on Facebook and on Twitter, and I’d love to have you follow along.  I’ll probably not be blogging much (I’m saying NO to bringing a laptop along and NO to being tethered to the Internet), but there’ll be a few posts in the queue so things don’t go totally dark around here while I’m gone…

  • for ambiguity

    for ambiguity


    Those of you who enjoy traveling (or dreaming about traveling), might like to take a look at this interview with travel writer and globally-minded soul Pico Iyer. He says of travel:

    Iyer: I think the main reason I travel, if I were to sum it up in one word, is for ambiguity. The reason I love travel is not just because it transports you in every sense, but because it confronts you with emotional and moral challenges that you would never have to confront at home. So I like going out in search of moral and emotional adventure which throws me back upon myself and forces me to reconsider my assumptions and the things I took for granted. It sends me back a different person.

    I don’t know that I’ve had the kinds of emotional and moral challenges when I travel that Pico speaks of, but I do find that it makes me re-think who I am in my place in the world. And I feel more alive and present when I travel, because of the novelty of place and things–which I relish.

    What about you, do you agree with Pico? And/or, what do you get out of traveling?

  • Back there again…

    IMG_0937

    A few days ago I slept in for a few hours. It was delicious (and lazy) after days of going going going like the energizer bunny. This month there is just no time built-in for me to slow down. I have such precious few hours to be in the archive to finish my dissertation and I’m carrying on with all of the end-of-the-semester busy-ness at Chapman University, too.

    However after I slept in I took a spin around the Chinese Garden before settling into my research. What pleasure. It reminded me so much of my travels to Suzhuo and Hangzhou. And for awhile I was back there again.

    My one regret from China was that I never found a bookshop with a book of poetry about those regions in translation. I wanted to read the words of the poets who had seen and felt the same things that I had…

  • So much to say….

    So much to say….

    I really really really want to write a long blogpost about my experiences from this past week and my meetings with scholars in NorCal.

    But….

    I am home. And I just need to be home for a few hours.

    And…

    I have so much work calling my name, it might be a few days before I get to share all that I’ve learned with you.

    In the meantime, let me share just one little thing. Last week while I was staying with my friend Barbara, we decided to go rock climbing at Mission Cliffs. It was sort of a spontaneous adventure and because I didn’t have my beach/sport leg on hand, I climbed as a uniped. And you know what? It felt so right. I clambered up the wall face faster than ever before–hopping from one “hold” to the next with my one foot, and using my arms to pull me up each time. I felt so free and strong hanging on that wall and now I can’t wait to go back and try it that way again. I didn’t get a picture of myself up on the wall last week, but here’s one of me climbing bipedally from a few months ago…