Seeking Authentic Voice

That's a wrap...

2024-08-02T19:14:00.001-04:00

My ten day trip to the midwest (Chicago area and Dearborn) is coming to an end. It's been a good week and half of meetings, conferences, and strategy sessions. I've really enjoyed spending time with the faculty from the Center for Family Consultation. I am the newest faculty member and super honored to work with these people I've known and studied with for five years or so.

The trip started last week with the summer conference in Oak Park, and a great day with Dr. Anne McKnight who taught on the Complexity of Cut-Off, from Bowen theory.

Cut-off is not a pathology. It's not even "bad". It is the way that members of a family manage their response to tension and anxiety. Distancing is part of the evolutionary process of survival. Managing one's self in complex family emotional processes requires, in part, the capacity to notice what one is feeling and how that influences what one does and how one behaves. Self-awareness is key, but the second step is having the ability to stop instead of responding automatically, and thinking about how one want's to show up. How do I want to be present in this moment?

The urge to cut-off can be better managed when one can notice automatic urges, then pause, and make choices based on what one thinks, believes, and values. This is part of the process of defining self, a fundamental Bowen theory concept.

Cut-off is one of the ways my family has managed the anxious tension between the pull to be an individual and the pull to be part of a family unit and its efforts to think and behave in harmony. My effort is to not align, automatically, with the pull to escape and cut-off. Instead, I try to find space and time to be who am I while staying in relationship with family and others.

Anyway. Cut-off is a fascinating concept and one that is very relevant to my family. I work at staying in relationship with people, which does not come easy for me.

Following the conference on Cut-off I traveled to Dearborn, MI, returning to a place I lived for 12 years and where I have relationships that are deep and important to me. There I spent time with people I love, and held a few important meetings.

Then a return to trip to Chicago, this time to Evanston. A quick trip for the faculty strategy meeting with the CFC. Time well spent, for sure.

Tomorrow I head home. I'm looking forward to being home AND being on staycation. I really need to rest. I need deep, long, rest.

But I'm not sure I'll get as much as I need. We'll see. I'll certainly try.

Not the same and yet....

2024-07-31T20:35:00.001-04:00

I have traversed familar terraine over the last week or so. I mean, places I most recently lived in for 12 years. But also Chicago and it nearby suburbs, where I lived for over 40 years. Chicago really is home for me. Even though it is no longer where I live.

Enjoying a meal at La Pita, Dearborn.

Enjoying a Yemeni coffee (cardamon and heavy cream in delicious coffee)

The train trip from Dearborn to Chicago, on Amtrak, was uneventful. We even arrived about 15 minutes early. The Metra commuter train trip from Chicago to Evanston was also uneventful. I arrived at my hotel a little after noon and had to wait a bit for a room to be ready. The person staffing the check-in desk was new and not particularly helpful. This person was clearly following the "rules". I was told I couldn't check in until 3pm, a three hour wait. I was told I could leave my luggage and go wandering - something I was not inclinded to do, in part because I was in jeans and needed to change into shorts. I was directed to sit in the lounge and wait for 3 hours. After a few minutes I went back to the desk and asked if there was some place I could get an iced tea and set up my computer and work. The person said, no. Then said, let me see if a room is ready. And thankfully, a room was ready. (seriously, one was ready about 5 minutes after my first effor to check in). So I got a room and quickly settled in. Then I went out for a walk.

I lived in Evanston for five years, during three of my four years in seminary and social work graduate school. Then, I lived here for another 18 months as a newly ordained priest before I moved to the NW suburbs for my first call as a rector. In Evanston, I walked the streets, ate in restaurants, and raised my kids. I adopted two of my dogs here. My spiritual director lived in Evanston and I saw her here for 12 years, and then remarkably, for another two years in Arizona. It is a significant place for me, and being here is so familiar. And also so much has changed.

After checking in I went for a long walk. I wanted to get the lay of the land and sort out where I was and what as near-by. I walked north, east, west. I picked up some items from Target since I''ll be here for three days and nights and have a fridge and microwave. I walked south and east and found some familiar places. i purchased gelato in a cone and continued my walk. I walked all the way to Northwestern University, around a pond that we used to walk around and feed carp and ducks when our kids were small. I walked and walked. Over 15,000 steps. I ended the day with a much needed shower. Then I ordered carry-out from Giordano's deep dish pizza (with enough left over to feed me for a few more days).

A pond on the campus of Northwestern U.

Lake Michigan from NWU

Chicago as viewed from NWU

Giordano's in Evanston

This day is over. I'm fully sated from walking, traveling, reminiscing, and eating delicious food. Now, I'm drinking tea and watching highlights from the Olympics.

I keep thinking about how this trip has been a return to places I've lived. How so much is the same. And yet, how much has changed. The biggest change is me. I am really not the same person I was 30 years ago. Who is? Well maybe some of us are. But, I am not.

And yet. In some ways I am exactly the same.

And so it is with everything I've seen. A lot the same. And a lot that has changed.

Same

2024-07-29T21:53:00.001-04:00

No doubt my life has been a life of change.

As a young child, I lived in at least four different houses before I was 5, not including the time I spent staying with my maternal grandparents.

Then, following my parent's divorce, I lived with my paternal grandparents for a year until my mother rented a house and my brothers and I moved back in with her. A couple of years later she had married again and had another child, my third brother. When I was nine we moved to Idaho for a year, Wisconsin for four years, Texas for a year, and then Illinois where I lived for 40 years, though in different places. I lived in Hanover Park, Carbondale, and Rogers Park for high school, college, and my first job out of college. I was living in Belmont Harbor when I lived when Dan and we got married. We bought a house on the NW side of the city and then a second house in Elmwood Park. We sold that house and moved to Evanston when I started seminary. We lived in Evanston for four years then moved to Prospect Heights where we lived for 8 years. We moved to Arizona for two years, back to Chicago for one year, and then moved to Michigan where we lived for twelve years.

Twelve years in the same city, same house, same job. Literally a record for my lifetime.

So here I am, back in Dearborn. And a lot is exactly the same.

It's been lovely to see friends and familiar places. To walk the neighborhood and streets that are like home to me, I walked them all so often in the 12 years we lived here. Walking to restaurants and stores, the chiropractor and hair salon, and friend's homes.

Walking in a place that feels like home, familiar, so very much the same.

Well, except I don't live here anymore.

Hello! It's me...

2024-07-26T20:41:00.003-04:00

Here I am, back in Illinois near where I lived when I first started blogging in 2006. Hello dear blog. I think I've missed you. I'm not sure I'm ready to move to substack and leave you, though I haven't written a blog post for 2 years.

The last time I was posting here I was in Scotland and Paris. Now the Olympics are in Paris, like some kind of full circle that was never really a circle. But here I am, back in Illinois, back to this blog, and back to scenes from Paris.

It's lovely here in Oak Park... Not too hot. Not to humid. Just lovely.

I flew in yesterday from AZ. Despite the challenges of travel over the last week, I had no issues. I am here as part of the CFC faculty leading and organizing the Center for Family Consultation's Summer Conference. My part has been tech support and social media PR. The conferennce was today and all went well.

Tomorrow I'm taking Amtrak to Michigan where I will spend a few days with friends. I am looking forward to some fun and relaxation with friends.

So, not a long post tonight.

Hello old friend. It's me.

Differences That Make A Difference: Defining Self in an Intercultural Context

2022-12-07T15:52:00.001-05:00

Blessing the Community Garden, Christians and Muslims,
English and Arabic with a local elementary school Arabic drummer ensemble

“The Intercultural Development Inventory® (IDI®) is the premier cross-culturally valid assessment for building cultural competence in your school or organization” Mitchell R. Hammer, Ph.D.

“I believe and teach that the family therapist usually has the same problems in his (or her) own family that are in the family that he (or she) sees professionally, and that he has a responsibility to define himself in his own family if he is to function adequately in his professional work.” (quote by Murray Bowen in Bowen Systems Secrets by Michael Kerr, MD)

In 2018 and I embarked on a journey of study on intercultural competency, anticipating that Bowen Theory would play a role in this study. The hope was that I, as the Rector, would be able to lead my English-speaking Episcopal congregation, comprised primarily of white people of European descent, into forming an effective partnership with an Arabic speaking congregation of people from Lebanon, Egypt, and Palestine, with whom we were going to share a building. What developed from the study informed my hypothesis that congregational anxiety can be lowered when the congregation establishes its sense of purpose, it’s mission. In particular I have been exploring how commitment to a clearly stated mission of the congregation can function in the emotional process of a congregation in much the same way as a person who defines “one’s-self” functions in a family.

In his book, Bowen Theory Secrets, Kerr outlines six ingredients crucial to the success of functioning more as a self in the family. (page 168). These are:

1. Observe and think about emotional process

2. Discriminate between thinking and feeling

3. Recognize the impact of anxiety on functioning

4. Engage emotionally difficult situations

5. Maintain more of a self with others

6. Theoretical thinking and scientific inquiry

The key component of one’s capacity to these engage these six ingredients and define self is the ability to adapt. Adaptation is also the key component of one’s capacity to develop intercultural competency, according to the Intercultural Development Inventory (IDI). My first step in intercultural competency was to be trained as a Qualified Administrator in the IDI, a widely used tool that helps individuals and organizations understand where they are, developmentally, in their capacity for intercultural competency. In other words, how capable am I, and or my organization, in adapting to people of different cultures? Adaption does not mean becoming like the other person or culture. Rather, like defining self in a family, it means have a clear sense of self while also allowing the other to be who they are. IDI describes this as recognizing the differences that make a difference.

The IDI is a survey of 50 questions that takes about 15 minutes to complete. It then scores responses and provides a profile and a plan. The profile is an assessment of a person’s capacity to recognize cultural differences. It provides two important pieces of data, where one thinks one is in one’s cultural competency, and one’s actual developmental stage of competency, according to this tool. The stages of development grow across five levels: Denial, Polarization, Minimization, Acceptance, and Adaptation. The IDI has been widely used by universities, corporations, and the US military, to help individuals and groups understand where they are developmentally, and how to increase competency in order to work more effectively in multi-cultural contexts.

As I learned about and applied the IDI I began to wonder if there was a correlation between the development stages of intercultural competency and the stages of development in one’s capacity to define self. In particular I wondered about how one’s capacity for adaptation functions in developing intercultural competency and in defining self. In both contexts the capacity for adaptation requires one to engage in the six crucial ingredients that Kerr defines. Developing intercultural competency, the capacity to be in relationship with people who are very different from one’s self, requires the ability to discriminate between feelings and thinking, recognize the impact of anxiety on functioning, engage emotionally difficult situations, and maintain more of a self with others.

The ability to apply Bowen Systems Theory to the development of intercultural competency enabled me to engage scientific inquiry with theory, enhancing each application in my thinking about adaptation. Dan Papero’s Model for Family Assessment considers adaptation as a benchmark for determining the health of a family system. Leslie Fox in her work applying Bowen Theory to organizations (Leading a Business in Anxious Times) also considers adaptation as a critical element in an organization’s functioning. Adaptation is key to successful thriving in individuals, families, and organizations. Scientists have known that adaptation is a fundamental element in nature. Species survival depends on the capacity to adapt. (https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2021/06/210618153512.htm).

We live in an increasingly diverse reality which is influenced by social media, ease of transportation, and global economics and politics. That people struggle to adapt to the diversity we are encountering is revealed in the tension, anxiety, polarization and rise of authoritarianism being seen world-wide and in this country. However, it is possible to navigate the differences one encounters with less anxiety and more curiosity. Adaptation does not mean that one loses one’s self. Nor does it mean that others have to lose themselves. Successful adaption can take place when one is able to be both a self as well as value others for who they are. This is the approach I have applied in my context, helping my congregation define itself more clearly without requiring the Arabic congregation to become like us nor for us to become like them. Learning to value the differences of each deepens our experience of life and stretches our capacity for adaptation, key ingredients to not only survive but thrive. In an age when congregations are dying, Bowen Systems Theory and the IDI have afforded me both a theory and an approach to scientific inquiry that inform how I guide the congregation in defining self through our mission in an intercultural context.

Written for the Center for Family Consultation and posted on their blog and Facebook page

https://thecenterforfamilyconsultation.com/differences-that-make-a-difference-defining-self-in-an-intercultural-context/

Alabama

2022-10-15T18:38:00.004-04:00

I've been to many states in this big beautiful country that I live in. From east to west and north to south, I've lived in or visited many of them in my lifetime. This is, however, the first time I've been in Alabama. I flew here from Michigan on Wednesday, with four other people from my congregation. We're here for a residency as the Baptized for Life initiative at Virginia Theological Seminary draws to a close.

Wednesday was a long long day of travel, beginning at 7:30am with a carpool pick up of the team members. Our flight had a layover in Atlanta before arriving in Birmingham. And as a result we spent more time waiting in airports than in the air. We encountered an intense storm on our hour long flight from Atlanta to Birmingham, and the flight attendants were directed to stay seated and buckled in. Long stretches of that flight that were very bumpy, the plane shifting violently from side to side. Thank goodness it was only an hour and by the time we were ready to descend the storm had move east and the last few minutes of the flight were fine.

The airport reminded us that Birmingham is an historic city, rooted in the racial challenges this country has caused by enslaving people. The civil rights movement and many of its leaders and events took place right here.

At the airport we met up with about thirty other people and we all boarded a bus to drive an hour northwest to Camp McDowell. The drive took us along a highway and then into rural Alabama. The drive was beautiful. The economic challenges of rural America were also evident.

Camp McDowell is gorgeous and very comfortable, comprised of several buildings for meetings and group gatherings and then cottages with common room areas and private bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms. The views are stunning.

Our first night was just a simple check in, dinner, and then relaxation.

The first full day included an opportunity for each of us to share our BfL story.

The day included a long break for rest. I used the time to walk around the lake, about a mile. It's a beautiful trail and some gorgeous plants and trees, different from Michigan.

Last night the group participated in a coffee house experience of sharing our stories. The room we were in had a lovely fireplace, a delicious spread of brownies, pecan pie, moon pies, and other goodies brought to us from Good Shepherd Church in Mobile, AL. The stores shared were heart breaking and heart warming, vulnerable, and full of love and hope. The story my team shared was just fun. You can watch our rhythm and words here:

Christ Church BfL short story

Today was centered on building a covenant for what comes next. And tomorrow we head home. It's been a very good, very full, very lovely week.

Walking. Breathing. Praying.

2022-09-22T17:12:00.000-04:00

We’ve had very little rain where I live. The grass is crunchy and dry. Leaves are drying on the trees and falling off in the wind. But last night a rain storm was blowing in. After a quick supper I headed out for a second round of my daily walks. I hoped to complete a one mile walk around the neighborhood before the rain started. I donned my trusty lightweight waterproof rain jacket and headed out. The air was thick, humid, but cooling down from another hot day. Cool enough that the jacket was just right.

I bought this waterproof rain jacket in 2020 for a sabbatical trip I was planning that included an eight-day retreat near Belfast, Ireland. I anticipated chilly damp weather and a lot of walking, as described in the travel guide for the retreat. The COVID pandemic conditions caused that retreat to be cancelled - twice in 2020 and once in 2021. Finally, it was to take place in August 2022. In July I flew to Scotland, ahead of the retreat in Ireland, where I spent five days walking around Edinburgh and Glasgow. I visited all the gorgeous places in those two cities, including heading south to Galston, in the Ayrshire region, where my ancestors are from. I walked and walked, nearly 20,000 steps each day. I wandered through one ancient church and then another, struck by their beauty and history. In each church I stopped and prayed and just stood still, as if I could feel all the prayers ever prayed in that church. Prayers through the ages echoing in the silence and vibrating in the light filtering through the stained-glass windows. Prayers of hope, fear, sorrow, joy. I lit candles and prayed for the people I know who are suffering from one thing or another. Every day I put on that rain jacket and my waterproof walking shoes and walked and prayed and tried to be present to the moment. More than memories, I wanted to embody the experience.

The day I was to leave for Ireland I had to take a COVID test, just to be sure I would arrive healthy. The result was Positive. I was stunned. I felt fine, no symptoms. It was ironic that COVID once again would prevent me from going! I had to cancel my trip to Ireland, arrange to stay in the hotel in Glasgow for five more days, and find a place to get a medical test to confirm the home test. I did all of that, and then went for a walk. Three of the five days of my COVID isolation I went for long walks. I stayed outside and away from people. I walked for my sanity and sorrow at missing this long-awaited retreat in Ireland. I walked for my lungs and my respiratory system as if I could walk the virus out of my system. I walked to pass the time. My hotel room was small and my view out the window was a parking garage, although I could see the sky as well. And, I could hear the traffic, I was near the Buchannan Bus station in Glasgow. I walked to places that were quiet. An hour to and from the botanical gardens, another hour to the Kelvingrove museum grounds, and another day an hour long walk to and from the Necropolis. Three hours of walking each of those days, just to pass the time. And pray. And be present. Both last night, and while in Scotland, I walked in a steady, soft drizzle, my hair blowing all around me, the jacket keeping me dry.

Over the years, whenever I am stuck while writing a sermon, or anxious about some meeting, or stressed out following a meeting, I go for a walk. Walking is a form of prayer for me. People who meditate regularly describe walking meditation – a mindfulness walk where one pays (excruciating, I imagine) attention to each step: lifting my foot, moving my leg, placing my foot, arm moving in rhythm, breath in, breath out. Slow, slow walking. I like to think that I am practicing walking meditation, but it’s not that level of observing my body. I do notice my breath, breathing in and out. Especially when I had COVID, which was followed by a long lingering cough and some breathlessness, my breathing was more noticeable, difficult. Yet walking is a prayer practice for me. In this prayer time I observe my thoughts and often work through something that I am stuck on, insights flow through my steps and my breath. I always feel better after I have taken a walk. My body feels more relaxed and my mind is calmer. And now I think that I am embodying aspects of all of the walks I took during my sabbatical time. Perhaps I now carry with me traces of all those prayers?

After five days of COVID isolation I had a negative COVID test and time to fill before I could finish my trip in Paris, where my husband and I planned to spend our wedding anniversary. I took the train to Oban where I stayed for two nights and wandered around that small tourist town on the west coast of Scotland. I took the ferry/bus/ferry to Iona and spent a day walking

that small island, the ancient home of St. Columba. I walked the nunnery, built in the 13^th century to house women of faith, who lived and worshiped and prayed. The nunnery is now ruins, but through the ruins, flowers grow. Standing on the nunnery grounds, amidst the falling buildings and blooming flowers, my eyes filled with tears, my heart swelled. A thin place. I walked the cemetery and the Abbey and the roads around the island. I took in the fresh air. Iona got into me. I feel it in my being, even now when I walk the neighborhoods of the town I live in.

Walking. Prayer. Breathing in and out. Body moving. Mind calming. Walking. Prayer.

Nunnery on Iona, rain jacket and wind-tossed hair

Sabbatical Day 20: Heading home

2022-08-19T06:46:00.002-04:00

We woke at 5am Paris time. I made us a cup of really strong tea while Dan took a quick morning shower. We headed down to the front desk at 5:55, paid the bill and at the same time the taxi arrived. Our drive to the Charles de Gaulle was relatively quick. It took us a few minutes to sort out where we were supposed to go and how to check in and at which gate, but the airport staff were helpful and we managed that process easily enough. Although we had TSA pre check we still had to go through a fairly extensive check in. Security at Charles de Gaulle - do not fool around - and with my experience from Sunday still way too fresh in mind, I approached all of it cautiously. Thankfully this experience was much better. Or course it was also following protocol where as Sunday was way off protocol. Then, I was lost in the airport and going in circles through areas I didn’t need to be in. Whereas today I was following protocol, with nothing out the ordinary Thank goodness.

Well, except that the flight had changed from a Delta flight to an Air France flight, that was still being managed by Delta. That made on-line check in impossible. And, once there we were told that we would not have seats together…but we could ask at the gate and try to get seats together.

From there we went through security, not too harsh. And then found a Starbucks for a cup of coffee and an egg sandwich. The terminal gate was nearby. As soon as an attendant showed up we went forward to request seats together. That was a long wait, but we were able to get seats together, in a two seat row, so it was just us in that section of the row, seats A and B.

Sun rise at Charles de Gaulle airport

We waited three hours and then boarding started, although there was no notification of boarding and nothing about boarding by areas. This was such a sharp contrast to Heathrow, where boarding was well organized by rows with requests that people “remain seated until their row was called”. Heathrow was so orderly. Charles de Gaulle was not. It was arduous and slow. So slow that I began to worry that we’d actually mis the flight while being in line to board the plane. Thankfully the process speeded up and after 30 minutes in line we were in our seats.

The flight took off thirty minutes late, but we knew that early on. One of three pilots had become ill over night. They were going o fly with only two pilots to Boston, and then would take on new pilots. The rest of the crew remained the same. The flight over the Atlantic, from Paris to Boston was long, nearly 8 hours. I watched movies, a documentary about Jane Goodall called, “Hope”. And a George Clooney film, The Descendants, that was described as a comedy but definitely was not. I knitted and I took Advil for some stiff muscles and aches and pains from sitting so long.

We landed in Boston, changed pilots (apparently it was a complete pilot change not just picking up one new one, although that is still unclear). And, we refueled. We were on the ground less than 45 minutes. The flight from Boston to Detroit took about 90 minutes. Overall we were almost three hours late arriving. In the grand scheme of things, with all of the many many travel snafus people have experienced this summer, it wasn’t all that bad.

Arriving home to our dogs who were beside themselves with glee. For about a second they were unsure of who I was and then they were crazy silly. Lila, who might have some Bassett hound in her, made the most hilarious sounds as she ran around me. Emmy, who is much older just tried to stay out of Lila’s way and still greet us.

We had to order out for dinner, there’s no food in the house. But that was simple. We fell asleep a little after 8pm, not quite our usual bedtime. We’d been up for 22 hours.

This morning I am drinking coffee from a mug I bought in Paris. It was three weeks ago today that I departed for this grand adventure. I am grateful for having had this adventure. I planned well and travelled well and adjusted well when COVID and circumstances required me too. I never really got lost, at least not in any way that had consequences. I did spend about an hour walking in circles in Edinburgh when google maps couldn’t direct me back to my hotel; and about 90 minutes walking in circles in Charles de Gaulle airport looking for a way to get from one part of the airport to another in order to meet up with my husband. Those two experiences were exhausting but otherwise of no consequence. I navigated airports and planes, trains, buses, taxis, and walking in Amsterdam, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Oban, London, and Paris.

There were moments of sheer awe that brought me to tears from the significance of where I was: the nunnery on Iona; St. Paul’s Cathedral - London; several churches in Paris; the Musee d’Orsay and the impressionists and post-impressionists; and spending my wedding anniversary in Paris with my husband. These are experiences I never thought I’d have. I am sad that I missed the retreat in Ireland, the very thing that was at the root of all of this. And now I have a ton of work to do send in information to the travel insurance company - receipts and details - but hopefully I’ll recoup some of the losses.

The next few days will be a slow re-entry to life and work, including laundry and grocery shopping. And probably a COVID test just to make sure I didn’t contract it again….I won’t be surprised if I did considering the long hours on the plane and how many people I’ve been around over the last three weeks. The sun is rising here, 6:30am. The news is mostly awful, politics and crud regarding women’s reproductive rights and health care; trump and his legal team. I haven’t missed it at all.

For the next few minutes though, I am just going to enjoy this cup of coffee, fresh ground and delicious.

Sabbatical Day 19: Anniversary in Paris

2022-08-17T14:16:00.001-04:00

Thirty-seven years ago today, Mollie Williams can attest to this: the day was a little off kilter. We had the wedding photographer from hell. A photographer far more interested in her photos than she was in the wedding ceremony. A lesson I have never forgotten and always informs the instructions I give to photographers of weddings in which I am the celebrant. 1. Don’t delay the ceremony. 2. Take all the photos you want from where ever you want BUT I never want to be aware of your presence. Don’t let me see you, and don’t get in the way. This is a religious ceremony for which the couple have spent a lot of time preparing for.

Our wedding was delay be nearly 45 minutes because the photographer would not stop taking pictures. Mollie, the officiant, finally came to where we were taking pictures and insisted on starting. I had absolutely no idea of the time. The day was hot and complicated, as wedding days often feel for the couple marrying. But when all was said and done, the ceremony was lovely (thank you Mollie) and we headed off for a night of celebrating.

The next day we had breakfast at the infamous Pump Room in Chicago, then we went home, packed and flew to Salt Lake City, leaving our gifts unopened.

Now here we are 37 years later, with two full grown children and two grandchildren, celebrating this anniversary in Paris. We’ve spent three very full days here with lots of walking and sight seeing. Today we intentionally decided to spend the day with less walking. Besides it was supposed to rain all day. We began the day, as always, having breakfast in the little dining area of this charming little hotel. Then we headed off, the only goal being a yarn store about twenty minutes away. It was very cool and threatening to rain. But, we found the store easily.

The store was little, but included a nice selection of yarn, fabric, beads, and buttons. I bought a bunch of yarn. It’s unclear how much I actually have, but I think it will be enough to make something like a shawl. I confirmed that the yarn is from France, not the USA (since they also sell yarn made in the USA and Scotland). I also bought buttons. While I was shopping Dan was watching the firefighters down the street navigate extremely small parking spots.

The name of the shop La Droguerie

Winding my yarn

After shopping we walked back to the hotel where I changed into warmer clothes. Then we wandered over to a nearby cafe for some crepes and coffee and people watching. I had a crepe with spinach, cheese, and smoked salmon. (It was very good). Dan had a crepe with egg, cheese, and ham.

After people watching we wandered around a bit the returned to the hotel to organize our stuff and pack. Several hours later we showered, dressed, and went out for dinner. The hotel owner recommended a place, the Brasserie Vangenende. A little place a few minutes from the hotel.

The restaurant was ornate and lovely. We ordered a variation on a caprese salad: burrata cheese (form of fresh mozzarella) with quartered tomatoes and a basil sauce. They also bought balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil to top it with. The pesto/basil sauce was lovely, the tomatoes were very good, and the cheese was light and delicious. The olive oil was lighter than any I’ve ever had, but still olive oil. It was perhaps the best dish I’ve had since I’ve been traveling. Maybe. We followed that with a chateaubriand in a peppery bearnaise sauce for Dan and tuna marinated in lime and served over ratatouille for me. Both were fabulous.

After dinner we went for a walk and finished with an ice cream at the place we went too a few days ago.

This has been a very special way to conclude this trip, spending four days in Paris with my husband. I never ever thought I’d get here. It’s been the location of many of my anxiety dreams for years - the place I, for some reason, was going too, but for one reason or another, could never make it. When I was stuck in the airport on Sunday and couldn’t find my way out of the walkway I was in, to where Dan was, it was my dream come true. But my anxiety dreams never included Dan being there. So that fact made the entire experience different, he working with me to find one another and leave. One thing I know from these three weeks, I never want to travel without him again. He is my partner in life and love and I want to share all of my adventures with him.

Sabbatical Day 18: An art museum in Paris, finally. But also the Champs Elysee, the Arc de Tromphe, and the Eiffel Tower…

2022-08-16T10:44:00.002-04:00

We left our hotel early this morning and walked about 15 minutes to the Musee d’Orsay. This is a smaller museum but it has a lovely collection of impressionist and post-impressionist paintings: Cezanne, Monet, Manet, Renoir, Degas, Van Gogh, and many others. We didn’t have tickets, the app kept refusing our credit card for some odd reason (we’ve used it every where else). But getting in was no problem. And we were early enough that the exhibits were not overly crowded, at least at first. I stood in the rooms with paintings from artists I have studied and admired all my life. My eyes welled with tears. I’ve only been this moved a couple of times on this trip: the moment I stood in the ruins of the nunnery garden on Iona, the moment in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London when the priest invited us to sit down and pause for 2 minuets in silence and then he said a few prayers for the world. And then in several rooms at the Musee d’Orsay and the great art that I was present too. I also cried a bit when I was stuck in the Charles de Gaulle airport and couldn’t get out and couldn’t find my husband and was pushed through security again, for no reason, and then had my luggage searched. But that was awful. These others were awe. Absolute awe.

We only spent about two hours in the Musee d’Orsay. But it was enough. I was completely saturated with beauty and I couldn’t take in any more.

From there we walked through the Touilleries Gardens and then toward the Champs Elysee and the Arc de Tromphe. It was a long walk up hill, with extremely high end shops all around us. By the time we reached the Arc de Tromphe we were beat. Days and days of a lot of walking have taken their toll on my feet and my energy and Dan’s too. But despite that we trudged on to the Eiffel Tower. And, along the way another old church, But, this one had adapted with some very modern additions - the lectern and candles for example.

I had no illusions of even trying to go up in the tower. I knew it was mobbed, this being the end of a holiday week. I couldn’t even get advanced tickets. And honestly I was done in. It was enough for me to just stand near it and see it in real life and take some photos. It’s quite spectacular.

We took a taxi back to the hotel and bought ran into a near by Starbucks for an iced tea and iced coffee. Then we returned to our room to nibble on the cheese and meats from our lunch yesterday while we rested our feet. After a bit of a rest we headed out to a nearby post office to mail some packages to our grandkids, just for the fun of having them get something in the mail from Paris. (A t-shirt for each of them). Leaving the post office we headed down a street thinking it would be a simple around the block back to our hotel, but, as is common in Paris, we ended up in a completely different spot and had to use navigation to find our way back. Resting now before we head out for dinner.

Tomorrow is our 37th wedding anniversary. I plan to look for yarn stores and an effort to purchase some yarn in Paris. And that might be all we do, except sit in cafes, drink coffee, and watch people.

Sabbatical Day 17: Feast of the Assumption, Montmartre and three churches

2022-08-16T03:02:00.004-04:00

The morning began with a lovely little breakfast in the hotel. I had yogurt and a small croissant with coffee. Dan had scrambled eggs, a croissant, and coffee. Then we wandered about 30 minutes north the Montmartre neighborhood. Along the way we came to a very old church with a worship service taking place.

We wandered in and spent some time in worship - it is the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, a national holiday in France. We were at a church built in the 13th century and it’s become the local worship place for the congregation and clergy displaced from the fire at Notre Dame. The entire service was sung in French, except the scripture readings. It began like a morning prayer service with Psalms and Canticles then moved into the readings and Eucharist. I didn’t stay for Eucharist. And, while it was in French, I could mostly follow along. In addition to the main worship there were two side chapels with people coming in and lighting candles. I lit on too and said a few prayers for people I know in need of healing, as well as for my congregation back in Dearborn and for my family. I have offered these prayers in Scotland, twice in London, and now in Paris.

From there we wanted up to Montmartre. It’s an area with a lot of little shops along interior galleries between buildings. Most of the stores were closed for the holiday or just closed. There lots of antique book stores, stamp stores, and jewelry stores. We found a cute little shop for souvenirs, and bought a few things to take home. Then we wandered back toward our hotel.

The following photos are all out of order as they uploaded on an iPad. They are of the Louvre, a cool building with an iron work facade, the Seine, a look down a neighborhood or two….and beautiful door front.

The pyramid at the Louvre

Along the way we walked into the courtyards of the Louvre. Two musicians were playing music, and I took a little video of them. In another courtyard we found the famous pyramids. And a line to enter the museum that was so long there was absolutely no way we were going to even try to go in. No way. Besides, once in the place is supposed to be so mobbed that one can’t even see the art. Not my kind of fun, no matter how famous the pieces. So we took photos of ourselves at the Louvre and left.

We stopped in a little street side cafe for a light lunch. We had an iced coffee and a platter of meats and cheeses with fresh bread. Truly, the cheese here is divine. But, there was enough for us to take about half of it back to the hotel and save it for tomorrow. (We have a fridge). Back at the hotel we rested a bit, having walked 10,000 steps.

Later in the afternoon we walked to Notre Dame. The area was crowded. It was simultaneously stunning to be in that space and shocking to see the destruction and efforts to repair if following the fire in April of 2019. Along the way I bought a small painting from an artist, a woman. A small piece with the Eiffel Tower, it will be a gift. But really, a painting from an artist in Paris…isn’t that just about the right thing to do?

It was getting warm so got an iced tea from Starbucks and headed back to the hotel. In a while we’ll head out for dinner.

We ate dinner a busy little street corner (Rue de Saint Germaine), sitting outside in the sun and the busyness. It was a lovely dinner. I had salad and veil in a cream sauce, with a glass Pouilly Fume. I’ve been a member of a wine club since 2020 and it’s fun to see some of the wines I’ve had through this club available here on menus. Dan had chicken in a richly seasoned sauce and roasted potatoes.

After dinner we walked more and came upon another small, very old church. This one was originally built in the 4th century, destroyed by the Vikings, rebuilt in the 8th century and completed in the 13th. It has an interesting history. Saint-Germain-does-Pres. In the 1940’s and 1950’s this neighborhood was the center of the existentialist movement associated with Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. It’s also home to Ecole does Beaux-Arts and the several schools affiliated with the University of Paris. Eugene Delacroix used to live in this neighborhood.

The perfume shop, making my perfume

After wandering through the church we navigated our way back toward our hotel. Dan has a really good sense of direction, so we have been mostly wandering without google maps. On this wandering we came upon a little shop that makes its own scented body oils, shampoos, lotions, and perfume. We bought some oil and a perfume, which the shop keeper literally mixed up on the spot and told me it needed to rest for two days before I used it. He then gave me two small samples to use until its ready. The oil smells like roses and the perfume is just a mix of heady herbs. I’m not sure what it is, but its lovely.

Further along, looking for a place to get ice cream (there are lots of them), we watched some street performers. It was quite an act. We found a little ice cream shop and I had a very small dish with four very small scoops: vanilla, coffee, caramel, and chocolate. It was delicious. We stood outside, people watching, while eating it. We walked about 17,000 steps, down a bit from the 20,000 I walked on Saturday and Sunday.

Tomorrow we plan on going to the Musee d’orsay, the Arc de Tromphe, and the Eiffel Tower. I couldn’t purchase tickets for the Eiffel Tower, so like the Louvre, we’ll probably just take photos of being there. I am not much of a touristy tourist anyway and really don’t enjoy the crowds or the site because of the crowds. That may be enough for tomorrow, but like every day, something unplanned may come along. Also, thunderstorms are predicted for the day, so that will probably impact our plans. We’ll aim for an early start.

Sabbatical Day 16: Paris

2022-08-14T14:52:00.002-04:00

I went to sleep last night about 8:30pm and had three alarms set to wake me up in time for my 3:45 car to Heathrow. It was a ridiculous time, but I was trying to follow the requirement to be at the airport for international travel three hours ahead of flight time. I arrived at Heathrow about 4:10 for a 7:20 flight. The airport was virtually empty, not even the security gate was open. Staff arrived and the security opened about 20 minutes later. Obviously I got through in a few minutes. Then I looked at the kiosk for my gate and it said that the gate would be posted at 6:30, for a 7:20 flight. Where was I supposed to go until then? I found a British Airways Customer Service person and asked, and was given the gate number I found a Japanese restaurant that had coffee, bought a cup and sat down at the gate for a long wait.

the Eiffel Tower in barely visible in this photo of Paris

The time passed quickly, the flight boarded quickly and I ended being the only person in my row so I moved from the aisle seat to the window seat. The flight was 40 minutes long, plus another 30 minutes or so taxing onto and off of the runways.

That part of the travel went well. Then I tried to find my husband, who had flown in from Detroit on a different flight and was in a different part of the airport. I made some kind of a wrong turn, not exactly sure what I did wrong, and I got caught in a vortex of insanity including being pushed through another security check, as if I were boarding a flight, despite my protests and telling them that I was trying to leave not come. At that security check they decided to go through my bags, removing every single piece of dirty clothing and shampoo and everything I had and inspecting it. It was humiliating and so very awful and completely unnecessary. I ended up wandering around in a circle for another hour, ending back up at that same spot where another security person was finally able to actually help me find my way out of there. It still took another 40 minutes to get back to where I needed to be and find my husband.

I felt a lot like the Tom Hanks character in that movie where he is trapped in an airport for a year. I was hot and tired and profoundly frustrated and no one seemed to be able to help me. There was a language barrier. But finally I find myself at the spot where my husband said he was and yes, he was there. We promptly left, catching a car that drove us to our hotel.

Graffiti on the drive to Paris

The rest of the day has been glorious. I adore this little hotel. It is so charming, in the old city of Paris, as the taxi driver told us. It’s near the Louvre and Notre Dame. And the entire area is filled, filled with outdoor cafes and shops. Dan and I both remarked that we could just walk around where we are and never see any other part of Paris, and it would still be a lovely visit.

We checked in to the hotel then went out for lunch. We shared a pizza (cheese, ham that was like prosciutto, tomatoes, and little greens - some kind of lettuce like green. And we each had a cappuccino. The streets were full of people and we just sat and watched. Then we walked around a bit and ended up back our hotel. We rested for a bit and then went out for dinner.

Dinner was in a lovely little family run cafe. We shared a plate of cheese (really, French cheese and bread omg). I had scallops in a tomato sauce with parsley and Dan had salmon. It was delicious. After dinner we walked round more, bought some little chocolates at a small store and wandered back to the hotel. Such a lovely (most of) day. I am so happy to be with Dan and to have a traveling companion, especially to share Paris with him.

Lunch

Dinner at La Citrouille 10 Rue Gregorio de Tours

Lunch menu, but Dan was pointing at the ash tray, an artifact no longer seen in the US

View from our hotel room

We had a cheese platter appetizer for dinner, the cheeses were divine

Interior of our hotel room, fabric walls, its really charming

Paris, a city full of street cafes, even more than all the cafes in every other city I’ve been in

Sabbatical Day 15, part 2: London’s Calling

2022-08-13T14:33:00.000-04:00

In my early twenties I listened to the CLASH and their hit song, London’s Calling.

London calling to the faraway towns
Now war is declared and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls
London calling, now don't look to us
Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust
London calling, see we ain't got no swing
Except for the ring of the truncheon thing

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin
Engines stop running, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning
I live by the river

London calling to the imitation zone
Forget it, brother, you can go it alone
London calling to the zombies of death
Quit holding out and draw another breath
London calling and I don't want to shout
But while we were talking, I saw you nodding out
London calling, see we ain't got no high
Except for that one with the yellowy eye

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear era, but I have no fear
'Cause London is drowning
I, I live by the river

Now get this

London calling, yes, I was there, too
And you know what they said? Well, some of it was true
London calling at the top of the dial
And after all this, won't you give me a smile?

I never felt so much alike, alike, alike, alike

(The Clash, 1979)

I never really imagined I’d visit London. And there’s no way this is like an ice age. It’s been a dramatic heat wave, an inferno with all the concrete. Still. It’s London.

I did some bus line research last night and found a nearby bus line that would take me Hyde Park Square. That spot would put me close to my first planned stop, the Serpentine Gallery and Black Chapel exhibit.

My friend Rabbi Lisa Greene recommended the Black Chapel exhibit to me. It’s the creation of a Chicago artist, Theaster Gates, and is described as meditative. You can read more about it here: https://www.serpentinegalleries.org/whats-on/serpentine-pavilion-2022-black-chapel-by-theaster-gates/

I left my hotel about 9:10am and walked to the bus stop, a short distance away. That bus ride took me through Piccadilly Circus and eventually to Hyde Park.

From the Hyde Park Square bus stop I had a twenty minute walk through the Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. Along the way there was a lovely lake with opportunities to row and observe lots of water fowl.

This is also part of Princess Diana’s water fountain

This connects to the last photo in this group

Princess Diana’s fountain

Photos are out of order, this was one of the first ones I took, of a memorial right of Hyde Park Square

And, there was the Princess Diana waterfall. In wetter, cooler weather the walk would have been gorgeous. But in this drought and heat, the grass is burned to a crisp and it was hot and dusty, not even 10am. But there were carriages and horses and lots of people out and about.

The Black Chapel was indeed an amazing exhibit.

My only desire would be for places to sit. It’s described as contemplative, but there is no place to just sit and be. Plus there was some guy in the exhibit with a photographer taking pictures of him. From the appearance of it I thought it was the artist himself, but the exhibit attendants said that it wasn’t him. So that’s weird and kind of wrong, to use someone else’s art for your own self promotion. The attendants were friendly, one of them has a friend who is a biochemical engineer professor at UofM Ann Arbor. Small small world I said. They directed me to a bus that took me back to Hyde Park Square and from there I walked to Buckingham Palace.

I am not a big fan and follower of the Royals. I have a moderate interest I’d say. But it was interesting to observe Buckingham Palace. The area was full of people. And, perhaps it was near time for the changing of the guards? I don’t know, I didn’t stick around to see. From there I walked to Parliament, past lots of other stuff I don’t know what it is, and eventually made my way to Westminster Abby.

I arrived at Westminster at about 11:10am. The line was long, very long, very hot. And the woman behind me was reading from a London tourist guidebook, out loud to her boyfriend, in Spanish. It was a little annoying. I kept thinking, can’t he read along for himself? Does he need her to read to him. I was being petty, which I can be when I am feeling hot and crowded and a bit claustrophobic.

But the line moved along quickly and maybe 30 minutes later, give or take, I was inside. The place was absolutely mobbed. But I just decided to deal with it. I put on my headphones and paid attention to the little self-guided tour.

Here is where I sat, lit a candle, submitted prayer requests.

Standing in line, waiting to get inside

Oh my. The long, rich history of that building, that place. Oh my. The people buried there. The events that have taken place there. It’s just profound. I went very slowly through the guided tour, looking, listening, and knowing that I would hardly remember any of it. But still doing my best to just be present to it all. I came to the end of the tour and wandered into the cloisters and down to the cafe for a little something. The cafe is lovely. I had a delicious sandwich, warmed cheese and ham on a crispy bread of some kind. It came with a salad and fries. I ordered a lemonade and then a large (750ml) bottle of water. I drank the lemonade and some of the water and then refilled my water bottle with the rest of the chilled water. Then I went back into the Abby. This time I purchased an additional ticket to go to upstairs gallery for the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee. I saw some of the artifacts for the Jubilee while at Holyrood in Edinburgh. The items on display at the Abby were more expansive, including artifacts from the history of the Abby and the history of royalty, along with funeral effigies (fascinating to look at the images of the bodies, how small the people were, how life-like the faces and eyes are of many of the effigies. There was an ornate altar missal with gold leaf, in Latin, from the 14th century and lots of other fascinating items. It was well worth the additional five pounds I paid to see it.

Then I spent some time in the nave, in the meditation corner. I said some prayers, made some prayer request. Lit a candle. I planned to stay for the afternoon, just being in the space. But they kicked us all out a little after 2pm. I intended to stay for Evensong, but that was at 5pm. I wasn’t sure what I’d do for 3 hours.

I made an attempt to bide my time by walking around the area. It is, as you might imagine, a wealthy area, the Lamborghini kind of area.

Downing Street, the Prime Minister’s home, heavily guarded.

Downing Street, Prime Minister’s home

Finally about 3pm I was feeling hot, and worn and I had no idea how to find a bus back to the hotel from exactly where I was. I did know how to find a bus from where I was yesterday, so I decided to walk about 20 minutes east to the street I was on yesterday. That was a long, scorching hot walk. I may have gotten a tad bit sunburned. But along the way I stopped in at a grocery store for a bottle of cold water and a salad for dinner. I made it to the bus stop and a bus arrived just as I did. I was back in the hotel about fifteen minutes later. By this time it was 4pm, and I was hot, sweaty, sunburned, and beat. I really wanted an iced tea but the hotel restaurant was closed. So I went to my room. I took a long shower, drank a bunch of water, and then packed. I leave super early in the morning. I have a car picking me up at 3:45 am. (Oh I hope I wake up, I set three different alarms). It took awhile to pack, I have more stuff. But I did it. Now I only have my pj’s to pack into the backpack and my morning clothes to put on.

London has been, overall, a really good trip. I am so grateful I got to see as much as I did. And, as much as I love love love the history of Westminster Abby, and I’m glad I came. I think I will have a fondness for St. Paul’s. It was so much more of a spiritual place, the ability to just sit in the space. To be invited into silence and prayer. Evensong. It was truly lovely. London became more of a real city to me, instead of just a crowded busy urban center, once I figure out the bus lines and had a better sense of freedom. I’d take a bus and the train to the airport if I weren’t leaving at 3:45 am…

Anyway, hopefully I will be up promptly and ready to meet my car. I hope all goes well at Heathrow. I have a 7am flight so that should help. And tomorrow I meet up with my husband, and a long long long awaited holiday in Paris.

Sabbatical Day 15: London, getting my groove back

2022-08-12T16:38:00.004-04:00

I lived in Chicago for 40 years. I was an experienced city person, navigating public transportation and figuring my way around traffic and neighborhoods like a pro. I know people do the same thing with London. The tax drivers yesterday are prime examples of people who know a city inside and out. I will never ever know London that way. Not like I knew Chicago and not like the taxi drivers I’ve had. BUT. And this is a big one for me. I figured out some of the bus routes I can take to get to where I wanted to go today and where I want to go tomorrow. It felt so good to have a little tiny sense of how things work here. The bus line from the hotel to the BlackFriar bridge (#63 bus) is a direct line from my hotel to walking distance to things like St. Paul’s Cathedral, the London Bridge, and the Tower of London. I’ll take the same bus tomorrow and then walk or, catch bus #11 to the area of Trafalgar Square and Westminster Abby. I plan to spend the day in that area, seeing the sites and spending most of the day in Westminster Abby, waiting for Evensong at 5pm.

Today I got off the bus on the south side of Blackfriars bridge and walked back across it to the north side where I followed the Thames River path to the Tower of London. I did not go into the tower, but wow was the entire area crowded. As I walked into the area a woman passing me sneezed, right in my face. I mean, she hardly even turned her head away, definitely didn’t turn into her own arm. It was so gross. I blew out my nose and tried hard not to breath until I was well past her. And, because I was outside I didn’t have my mask on. Alas. Sigh.

The fire on London memorial in Pasternoster Square

London Bridge is not falling down

The Spire

On the bus

I walked along the tower and the tower bridge and then headed back up to the main streets. I was feeling hot and worn from the heat. I walked past a war memorial.

Then shortly thereafter ducked into an air conditioned store to purchase bandaids, my feet were getting blisters from the sandals. I also purchased an cold bottle of water, cranberry infused with electrolytes. That was refreshing and helped immensely. I walked to St. Mary’s where I stopped, lit some candles, said some prayers, and put some bandaids on my feet.

St. Marys describes itself as a city church. It has a distinctively orthodox feel to it. And while it s a working church on Sundays its a cafe during the week. Fascinating use of space.

Then I walked more until I came to St. Paul’s. I spent the rest of the day there, 3.5 hours.

The chaplain to the Cathedral, The Rev. Paula Hollingsworth, one of the fist women ordained in the CofE. Not sure who the man in the cassock is, he probably a local priest. He lead the 2 minute prayers that I heard through out the afternoon - very touching.

The Chaplain, The Rev. Paula Hollingsworth

The view from the Stone Gallery

I walked through the interior. Every so often a priest invites the people in the Cathedral to stop for two minutes, sit down and be silent. The priest says a few prayers, including the Lord’s Prayer, holds the silence, and thanks people for praying in that space. It was one of the most moving experiences of this entire trip. One, because I did not expect it. Two, because who knows? Invitations to prayer can be like that, taking one off guard.

Then I walked the nearly 400 steps to the Stone gallery, an outdoor level of viewing London. 400 steps sounds like nothing for someone like me who has walked 17000 steps many days of this trip. But. 400 steps going up. That is a whole other endeavor. Oh my. Sure, in my younger years, probably nothing. But these days, it was a little taxing. Plus I was wearing a mask. And, it was hot. I made it to the Stone Gallery and the view of London was stunning. Coming down was a lot faster and much simpler. I did warn people along the way that it was arduous, but there were places to sit and rest, and it was worth it.

I spent a lot of time in the undercroft, the Crypt. Where people are buried. Christopher Wren, architect who designed this most recent version of the Cathedral in the 1660’s. Wren died at the age of 90 in 1723. Some building of worship has stood on this spot, dedicated to St. Paul, for 1400 years. Yes. 1400 years. The first was around 602, but it was destroyed. Two more churches were built and destroyed in conflict or the fire of London in 1666.

The lower level where the Crypt is includes memorials to Vergers who have worked at the Cathedral since the 1600’s, and musicians and organists. And, a lot of military persons. A lot. The lower level also has a little cafe where I had an egg salad and watercress sandwich and a cappuccino.

After sitting for awhile I then wandered into the gift shop. I could have purchased a lot there. Ornaments and books, tea towels and other assorted items. But I have zero room in my luggage. So I bought nothing. My tourist shopping will all take place in Paris.

About 3:30 I wandered upstairs to sit and wait for Evensong at 5pm. That seems like it would be a long wait, but it didn’t feel that way.

In the hour leading up to evensong I saw Cathedral staff walking around, setting up, getting ready. It was such a familiar routine, something I do all the time, albeit in a different setting. But still, the process for preparing for worship is somewhat the same regardless.

About 4:45 they invited those of us who wanted too to come into the choir loft and sit near the choir. I joined the group who chose to do that and sat in the pew next to the choir. It turns out that the choir was from Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Portland, Oregon. And their choral master is Bruce Neswick, who I know. We hired him in 2016 to compose a special piece for our 150th anniversary and he came in for a special weekend performance. That was just so much fun. I tried to find him afterward to say hello, but no one could tell me where the choir was. Oh well. I’ll email and let him know.

Evensong, was lovely, except no one in the congregation participated, we were simply observers, which completely diminished the experience for me. Afterward I left, and was bombarded by some evangelical man yelling into a sound system about sin and salvation. It was so awful following the beauty of evensong to be accosted by that. Then there were women handing out pamphlets on sin and salvation. It was just so ugly. I couldn’t walk away fast enough. But I did get out of the area and found my way to the bus line and back to the hotel.

Tomorrow is my last day in London. I’ve decided that I gave myself a decent amount of time to be here. My original plan, one day, would not have been nearly enough considering the location of this hotel and the things I wanted to see. So tomorrow, off to the area near Westminster and Trafalgar Square. My husband leaves Detroit tomorrow to fly to Paris, where we’ll meet up on Sunday.

Sabbatical Day 14: London, part two

2022-08-12T04:08:00.000-04:00

London is a big city. And, like all big cities it has neighborhoods where a single woman shouldn’t walk alone. The walk from the King’s Cross train station to this hotel has a bit of that sort of neighborhood, streets with abandoned buildings and homeless people taking up the corners and doorways, and men just standing around smoking cigarettes. But that’s where I found myself walking yesterday afternoon.

I left my hotel room an hour before I was supposed to meet my parishioner “J”, and asked the concierge to cal me a taxi. They have a phone that calls for taxi’s but he said it was unlikely he’d be able to find one, that time of day (4pm) and in this heat. I was shocked. What hotel cannot get taxi’s? And, what about lyft’s or Uber’s do they have those in London? After trying both with that phone and going out on the street, I asked the concierge if I could just walk to the train station where I know there is a taxi queue and I could get one. It was an hour+ walk across town to the restaurant and theater so I thought a taxi would be a better idea. No bus will get me there, at least not directly. And, by walking to the train station I could also take the tube, but I’m not up for learning London’s subway system at this point in time.

So I walked. Most of the walk was through more charming little neighborhoods. But some of it was not. I walked fast and direct and looked like I knew where I was going. I made it to the train station, it’s only about an 11 minute walk. And there I found a taxi to take me to the restaurant. It was over 30 minutes in the taxi an cost me 27 pounds, which is about $34.00. I’d been warned that taxi’s were expensive, so I wasn’t surprised. Watching the meter tick up I actually anticipated a higher fare. But the taxi driver was savvy and wound his way around afternoon traffic and down side streets, as only the best of taxi drivers can. He dropped me off right in front of the restaurant and J was there a second later.

The restaurant was in a lower level, below ground. It was a steak house and the food looked good. I ordered a glass of red wine and wanted a steak, but the waiter tried to sell me a very expensive steak that was going to be too big for me to eat. So I ordered a cheeseburger and green salad with herbs. J ordered an ale, a salad, and some kind of salmon and seasoned cream cheese dish.

J and I talked a lot. He is getting a Masters in Musicology. It was interesting to hear about his studies and his thinking. He’s particularly interested in hip-hop music as a genre around the world and, secondarily, he’s interested in Russian music. He was born in Russia and adopted by American parents when he was 1ish, maybe a bit older. So the interest in Russian music and orthodoxy is one way for him to connect with his ancestors. After dinner we walked about fifteen minutes to the Royal Albert Theater. It was a lovely walk. We noted that several of the old buildings are damaged, we suspect the damage was from WWWII.

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints headquarters in London….

Possibly damage from shelling during WWWII?

The Royal Albert Hall is a concert hall on the northern edge of South Kensington, London. One of the UK's most treasured and distinctive buildings, it is held in trust for the nation and managed by a registered charity which receives no government funding. It can seat 5,272. The hall is gorgeous and home to BBC concerts. They host the BBC philharmonic symphony, who were playing last night for the Proms series. Proms is an 8 week series during the summer featuring daily concerts, many of them at the Royal Albert Theater.

The screen that I mention is visible, its the blue bar above the orchestra and below the organ, in the center of the photo

Last night’s concert featured a world premiere by a Finnish composer, a cello piece by composer Elgar and a piece by Sibelius. Three composers, three landscapes. Elgar wrote his Cello Concerto in the woodlands of Sussex; for many listeners, its autumnal colours evoke emotions too deep for words. From his home in Finland, Sibelius created a symphony that has the grandeur and inevitability of a great river – though some have heard it as a stirring song of national awakening. And elemental forces are the very bedrock of Anna Thorvaldsottir’s inspiration. The BBC Philharmonic, under Eva Ollikainen – a Finnish conductor with close links to Iceland – teams up with charismatic soloist Kian Soltani in Elgar’s hugely popular concerto, and gives the world premiere of a newly forged orchestral work by Iceland-born Anna Thorvaldsottir, for whom composition is ‘a natural part of my life’.

This concert will be broadcast on BBC on Sunday, August 14, so perhaps you can find it somewhere?

The concert was phenomenal. Truly. Gorgeous. The hall was a bit warm, and although I was dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and travel skort with sandals, I was not underdressed for the occasion. Very casual. Good thing, because it was warm. And I was masked the entire time. Me and about five other people.

I wonder if it makes a difference to be masked when no one else is? I was wearing N95 mask, so perhaps that makes a bit of a difference?

The thing about listening to symphonies. I find them so much more meaningful when they are live, when I can watch and listen to the musicians and the conductor and the audience. Listening to recordings is really not the same experience for me. The interaction between musicians, the drama of the cellist and the conductor, the playfulness between all of them, at times making me laugh with enjoyment. It was and will be one the highlights of this trip, which has been grueling and arduous much of the time.

I said to my husband last night when we FaceTimed, that I am ready for this trip to be over. It’s not been what I planned for. I did not plan to spend so much time alone navigating foreign places and trying to have fun and stay safe. I fully expected to spend 8 days with 30 other people being challenged to think and learn about story telling and the challenges of conflict and reconciliation in Ireland. I expected to spend more time in the wilderness and less time in dirty crowded cities. But, here I am. Making the most of the trip of a lifetime that has held so many unexpected twists and turns.

I have two more days in London. Today I plan to head toward St. Paul’s Cathedral and be there for evensong at 5pm. I plan to be back at the hotel well before dark and have a quieter night than the last two. Saturday I will head back toward the main tourist area where I have a long list of sites to see, and maybe evensong at Westminster Abby. Then on Sunday morning, early, I fly to Paris where I will meet up with my husband. I am looking forward to all of this.

Sabbatical Day 14: London

2022-08-11T10:04:00.003-04:00

No doubt I was grumpy last night and early this morning. I called to inform housekeeping of the clogged sink about 6am. I informed the front desk at 11am. I checked in with the front desk at 1pm, nothing had been done. She offered to move me to another room and I requested one on a higher floor with perhaps a better view. So, that’s where I am now. The view is still nothing to get excited about, but at least I’m not looking out at air conditioner units and construction cranes.

I spent the morning walking and getting a bit oriented. This hotel is an interesting neighborhood called Clerkenwell. England.

Clerkenwell was an ancient parish from the mediaeval period onwards, and now forms the south-western part of the London Borough of Islington.

The well after which it was named was rediscovered in 1924. The watchmaking and watch repairing trades were once of great importance.[2]

My first walk this morning was to an Amazon Fresh store. The first time I went to an Amazon Fresh store was in 2018 in Seattle. They were a new concept at the time. To shop at an Amazon Fresh store all you need is the Amazon app on your phone and you need to connect to local (UK) Amazon. Then take a shopping bag and drop your items in the bag and leave. The app records what you put in the shopping bag and charges your card when you leave. I spent $15 and bought instant coffee granules (actually made a decent cup of coffee), fresh cream for the coffee, strawberries, cheese and crackers, muffins, and yogurt. I will be able to have a decent breakfast in my room with a not too bad cup of coffee. And I have cheese and crackers and strawberries for either lunch or a light dinner in my room.

After eating a little something I made my way to the British Museum, about a 15 minute walk.

The museum was, of course, MOBBED. But, it has an exhibit on women that was terrific. I really enjoyed reading about the different saints and goddess and the history of women, power, sexuality, that the exhibit had curated. Very well done.

Judy Chicago, 1980’s

I decided after seeing that exhibit to leave the museum, it was way too warm and way too crowded to be inside with a mask on. Besides many of the other exhibits are typical of museums - lovely ancient artifacts, but I’ve seen similar in other museums like Chicago’s Field Museum (one of my favorite museums).

On the walk back to the hotel I saw signs for the Charles Dickinson Museum and so I wandered into it. What a charming little museum.

Located in a house that

Dickinson once lived in, it is full of his furniture, drawings and documents from his books, announcements of plays and other historical booklets. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Once back at my hotel I decided to try to find a clothing store. I’m going out to dinner tonight with a parishioner who is in the UK working on a Masters in Choral Music (not sure the exact degree). I’ve known this kid, this twenty-something, for eleven years. It’s fun to see him as a young adult making his way in the world. Anyway, I only have very casual clothes, a skort and a t-shirt. I thought I’d pick up a little dress. BUT, absolutely zero clothing stores in this area. None. A million cafes. This included the fabulous Exmouth Market. https://exmouth.london/. I did buy an iced latte. It’s very warm here.

Now I’m back in my room, resting up a bit before grabbing a taxi to the restaurant for dinner before the concert. We’re going to https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/emjv9r

Programme

Anna Thorvaldsdottir
ARCHORA(20 mins)BBC co-commission: world premiere
Edward Elgar
Cello Concerto in E minor(27 mins)
INTERVAL
Jean Sibelius
Symphony No. 2 in D major(43 mins)

Performers

Composers

About This Event

Three composers, three landscapes. Elgar wrote his Cello Concerto in the woodlands of Sussex; for many listeners, its autumnal colours evoke emotions too deep for words. From his home in Finland, Sibelius created a symphony that has the grandeur and inevitability of a great river – though some have heard it as a stirring song of national awakening. And elemental forces are the very bedrock of Anna Thorvaldsottir’s inspiration. The BBC Philharmonic, under Eva Ollikainen – a Finnish conductor with close links to Iceland – teams up with charismatic soloist Kian Soltani in Elgar’s hugely popular concerto, and gives the world premiere of a newly forged orchestral work by Iceland-born Anna Thorvaldsottir, for whom composition is ‘a natural part of my life’.

Broadcast on BBC Four on Sunday 14 August

Image: Eva Ollikainen © Nikolaj Lund

PART OF

Proms 2022 Classical for starters Proms on TV

Sabbatical Day 13: Leaving Scotland

2022-08-11T03:03:00.002-04:00

When I arrived in Scotland on July 30 I had no idea I’d still be here, more than two weeks later. Some things I will miss about Scotland:

The quaint television program I watched on ALBA.

Men in kilts. In the states I had only seem men in kilts when they were play the bagpipes at a funeral. But here, men walk around in kilts on a regular basis. I’ve seen very formal kilts, like the one worn at a funeral I walked past this morning. And, I’ve seen much more casual kilt attire with gym shoes. It’s just one of those ordinary things here.

The wild landscape on the coast and the many many many lochs, or bodies of water all over the place. Scotland is very moist. Every day was in the 60’s but it felt like it was in the ‘80’s because of the humidity.

What I won’t miss: the awful coffee in the hotels. But, at least I had a Starbucks nearby, so for a portion of the time here I bought coffee at Starbucks.

This morning I left Scotland to begin the London leg of this trip. I was only supposed to be in London for a day, but now I will be here for 4 days. Traveling here was super easy, just a long day. A few days ago I went online and purchased my ticket to Oban and then the ticket from Oban to London. The train trip was incredibly easy. I caught the first train in Oban at 12:11. That trip took 3.5 hours. We arrived in Glasgow at 3:41.

My next train, an express train to Edinburgh, was scheduled to leave at 3:45. I was a little anxious about making this connection, and made sure I was off the first train directly. On the platform I asked one of the attendants about the Edinburgh train and he told me that it wasn’t in yet. But as he was saying that, the Edinburgh train was pulling into the station. We boarded that train and it took off minutes later and we arrive in Edinburgh about 15 minutes before the train to London was scheduled to leave. In Edinburgh I found the kiosk that posted arriving and departing trains and their platforms. It took a couple of minutes for the London train to be assigned a platform. But once it was I made my way to it and found my car and my reserved seat. It was super easy.

The train to London was fast, smooth, and comfortable. We zoomed past the ocean on the border of Scotland and England, and across many fields and farms.

Arriving in London, Kings Cross station, was everything I imagined it would be: very busy, very crowded, and dark because it was now almost 10pm.

I found the taxi queue and waited for a cab to take me to my hotel. In the hotel I asked about meals and was told that the restaurant was closing shortly, and I should go directly to it, if I wanted food. Which I did.

The manager, or bar tended, what ever his position, let me in, even though they were clearly in closing mode. I’ve worked in restaurants and I know how difficult it is to take in new customers once closing mode is in gear. But, he let me in and directed me to a table.

I had a tuna Nicoise salad with a glass of white wine. The salad was goo, a nice filet of tuna, small boiled white potatoes, green beans, and greens.

While there, a woman rushed in with two kids. She had been on a delayed train and needed to feed her kids. Again, although the kitchen was closed and the staff cleaning up, they nonetheless made chips (fries) for the kids (two teen, or pre-teen girls). They were given cokes to drink and the mom had a glass of wine. She told me a bit about her travels. Seems she had gotten on the wrong train, headed in the wrong direction as she made here way back from Paris to Scotland. That train had been terribly delayed and she ended up with a vouchers to spend the night in London before heading north again in the morning. I told her about my travels through Scotland, COVID, and the missed retreat in Ireland. I wished her well. Then I left to go up to my room and call it a day.

Once again I have the worst view out my window. Fourth hotel, fourth crummy room with no view. And unfortunately I left my allergy pillow covers in Scotland, so this morning my allergies from the dust mites in this room are also awful. Maybe I can find a place to purchase some pillow covers? And, the bathroom sink won’t drain. But I do have a small fridge in the room so I can get a little food. There are some markets near by. I’m about a twenty minute walk to St. Paul’s Cathedral and the river. I’ll start there.

So, . I need to get out of here and go walking, getting oriented, and find some coffee. It’s cloudless sunny day, it will be good to get out.

Sabbatical Day 12: Iona

2022-08-09T17:12:00.004-04:00

I don’t remember the first time I heard about Iona, the “thin place” between this realm and the next. I do remember the stories of every person I know who has been to Iona and loved it. Virtually everyone who has been comes away enamored with the place.

When I first started planning this sabbatical time I looked at coming to Iona. That was December 2019. All the places were already booked for the summer of 2020. So I went a different direction, the retreat to Ireland. Then COVID and well, the big disruption. This summer as I began to plan a trip around the retreat to Ireland I once again looked into Iona, and it was once again completely booked. So I worked on ideas - a trip to Edinburgh, a trip to my ancestors home of Galston, a trip to Paris with my husband. All built around the retreat in Ireland. I created a well thought out, well planned itinerary that would make the most of my time in this area.

And then COVID once again threw a monkey wrench into the whole thing. Instead of Ireland I got a five day retreat (snark) in solitude in an Holiday Inn Express in Glasgow, with a view of a parking garage. How to redeem that? Five days after a COVID positive test I tested negative and could travel about. But now I had six days to fil before Paris…so, out what to do….

Which is why, and how, I ended up in Oban for two half days and one full day. And that one full day I used to travel to and from Iona. A day trip was totally possible, albeit a bit of a touristy thing to do. The trip involves two ferry rides and one long bus ride (2 hours) across the Isle of Mull, about 3 hours each way.

When I arrived in Oban yesterday, after checking in to my hotel, I walked the 1/2 mile back into town and inquired about the ferry/bus trip. I ended up purchasing round trip ferry rides, Oban to the Isle Mull (port city of Craignure, population about 200), and Isle of Mull ( port city of Fionnphort - meaning white port, population 80 approx) to Iona. For the bus ticket I downloaded the bus app and purchased a one day pass to any where on Mull, unlimited rides. It was all very easy, and not very expensive, maybe $60 all total in US dollars/

I decided to take the earliest ferry possible. So, I got up at six, left the hotel at 6:45, and got to the boat launch about 7:05. We boarded the ferry at 7:20 and I followed the line to the dining room where I purchased coffee and a platter of eggs, bacon and sausage, and toast. I found a table near a window and scarfed down the meal (well, not all of it, but enough). The coffee was the same bad coffee from the same bad coffee machines I’ve had the hotels. Tasteless and weak, but it probably had a little caffeine.

The ferry ride over was mystical, beautiful. I walked from place to place on the ferry taking pictures.

We landed on the Isle of Mull and found the bus easily. The bus ride was breath-takingly gorgeous. Honestly. What a beautiful place. I had a window seat and took so many photos.

The bus driver was entertaining, full of stories and facts about Mull, very interesting. We arrived in Fionnphort about 10am and caught the ferry to Iona, a very short ferry ride. It probably takes longer to load and unload every one than it does to cross over.

Iona. I don’t even know what to say. No. I do. I want to go back when it is not tourist season. When I can stay and just be. I want to just sit and be. That’s what it calls for.

But, today wasn’t that day.

I was one of the first off the ferry so I was able to take in some of the first sites with relatively few people around me. Iona is small island settled by St. Columba, when he came over from Ireland in 563. It’s considered the birthplace of Christianity in Scotland. One for the first buildings I came are the ruins of the nunnery. The nunnery is a building where women lived sometime in the 13th century. Beautiful flowers adorn the ruins.

From the nunnery I walked up to the cemetery and the Abby. Spent time in the Abby and the museum. It’s stunning.

Then I walked through all of the gift shops and bought a few small items. I had lunch in the little cafe at the historic center - carrot/lentil/cumin soup and a thick slice of bread with butter, and a good cup of hot coffee. I wandered a bit more then headed back to the ferry and the Isle of Mull. I had to wait a bit for the bus and the return trip. There were a bunch of us waiting, although all of the others were from Holland.

I’ve spent a lot of time being around people who speak a different language than I. Even those who speak English speak it with a thick Scottish accent. I’m okay with that. I live in a town where many of the people speak Arabic, I’m accustomed to hearing people speak in other languages.

The trip back was lovely in a different way because the sun was shining.

Tomorrow I leave Scotland. My time here has not been at all what I thought it would be. The weather has been moody, but not as cold as I anticipated. I was able to stand on the land of my ancestors and breath the air. I can’t say that I had any kind of mystical experiences from it. But who knows, maybe a seed has been planted and something will take root that I could not have imagined. Time will tell.

Sabbatical Day 11: part two, Oban (Oh-bunn)

2022-08-08T15:43:00.004-04:00

It was a little odd being back at the Queen’s Street train station, a place I was in at the beginning of this adventure, when it was still July. So much has happened, and not much of it ended up being what I anticipated. (Especially not COVID and missing Ireland).

However this time I knew my way around and what to anticipate, I was prepared. I went on line and purchased my tickets to Oban and then the tickets from Oban to London, the day before yesterday. Then I just went to the station, put my credit card in the machine along with the confirmation numbers for the tickets, and the machine printed them. Easy-peasy. I mean really easy. So this morning all I had to do was show up, ticket in hand. The app even told me what platform the train would probably be on, at it was.

The train was small, just three cars. But there was room enough. The passengers were from all over the world. Across from me were two women, maybe from Africa? I never really heard them speak, they might have been from Scotland. Also across from me was a large family, not sure the configuration, a mom and day, a grandma, several adult kids? They dad was very animated and kept cracking himself up with his funny stories. I thought he was from some Germanic country, but when I could hear better he was speaking “English” but with a thick Scottish accent. After three hours I grew a little tired of how funny he thought he was. I mean, he was hilarious, not sure his stories were, though. Maybe they were, maybe not. I, on the other hand, was very hungry, needed a cup of tea and a bathroom, badly. It’s rough traveling by one’s self. Who watches your stuff when you get up to pee? The trip from Oban to London, a good 9 hours, is going to be interesting. I will, however, have 30 minute layers in two stations, so maybe I can drag my stuff into a bathroom stall for some relief when I switch trains?

The ride was, as one might imagine, glorious. The landscape everything I hoped for.

Oban is interesting. A small, old, quaint port town, very touristy - BUT no where near as crowded as Glasgow. Much more open space.

I had taken some time yesterday to look at a map and hand write directions to the hotel, just in case google maps was dizzy again and wanted to walk me in circles. My directions were perfect, but then, it was also pretty obvious where my hotel was. This hotel was about the only place that had availability when I looked two days ago. It seemed okay enough, although the reviews are not so great. Now that I am here, I totally get the reviews. For example, the website touts a fabulous restaurant, but the restaurant is closed, except for breakfast. The reviews talk about the old springy, creaky mattresses - yup. They totally are. Mattresses from thirty years ago. And the view from my room - a tiny sliver of the water through several very old building.s Still, a view of the water. LOL.

Yes, that’s water just below the clouds between the buildings. Everything is grey today so the clouds and water look almost the same.

The room isn’t actually bad, though. I mean it’s okay for one person, maybe even two if you don’t spend much time in it. And I will hardly be here. Tomorrow I have plans to go to Iona.

I wasn’t sure I was up for it. Getting there from here requires two ferries and bus, each way. But honestly, an afternoon in Oban, walking around the stories and window shopping, was enough for me. I did buy some stuff, though. I bought several kinds of chocolate at the chocolate store. I’m enjoying some right now with a cup of tea. I also bought a pair of sandals for London. I only packed cool weather walking gear for this portion of the trip and one outfit with Rothy’s for the one day I intended to be in London. But now that I will be there for three full days, and it’s going to be hot and sunny, I need different attire. A store in town had sandals on sale. It was kind of like the local, always on sale, discount shoe store. But the sandals were comfortable, cute, and not expensive, good for walking in wearing a summer dress or skort. Most likely a lot less than I’d find in London. My suitcase and backpack are now jam-packed. I may have to leave something behind, like the travel pillow I brought….

Anyway, tomorrow, Iona. I can hardly believe it. I never thought I’d make it to Iona. So many people I know have been to Iona, it will be good for me to see it for myself.

The tickets do not have times on them, they are open day tickets. But, I want to be up early and at the ferry by 7am, about a 15 minute walk from the hotel. Ferry will depart at 7:30, but there’s coffee service and breakfast on the ferry. By the time I get to Iona it will be about 10:30. I will end up with about four hours on the island. That probably won’t be enough time, but it will be something. I’ll get back to Oban about 5, just in time to find some place to eat near the ferries (I have my eye on a place), and then walk back to the hotel.

Sabbatical day 11: Leaving Glasgow, leaving COVID

2022-08-08T02:39:00.002-04:00

I planned to leave Glasgow this morning, day five after testing positive for COVID. I didn’t actually need to test negative to leave, the guidelines saying that after 5 days one isn’t contagious, just mask and be careful. However it definitely helps me feel more comfortable moving about now that I have actually tested negative. I no longer feel like a pariah.

I set my alarm for 7am but woke on my own at 5am, hungry. I took twenty minutes to meditate. I have managed on this trip to maintain my practice as well as taking all of my daily vitamins and supplements. Usually both of these go by the way side. I didn’t plan to be in hotel rooms for this entire trip, I was supposed to be at retreat centers for 8 days of it. However, spending so much time alone has enabled me to completely manage my time and do as I please (well, except I didn’t go into museums or restaurants once I as COVID+).

The nearby Starbucks opened at 6:30, so I dressed and headed over there for my breakfast to go: Venti coffee, yogurt, and a chocolate croissant. It beats the hotel coffee and breakfast any day, although today I actually wanted eggs. Maybe tomorrow….

The hotel I have been in for the last week is one that I chose because it was conveniently located near the bus station that I would be using several times. When I checked in I asked for a room with a view. She gave me the only room that was ready. It was on the second floor with a view of a parking garage. I laughed when I saw it.

I had no idea that it would be view for over a week instead of three days. A second floor room proved to be helpful in the long run. I avoided the elevator and took the stairs in and out of the building, limiting my contact with people. Walking up two long flights of stairs, masked and with COVID symptoms, winded me. Good thing I didn’t have to climb more…

The hotel is also over the subway line in Glasgow. I can feel and hear the rumble of trains far below this room. All day. All night. It’s not loud, but it is definitely there. At first I thought it was street traffic, but then I recognized the sound from all the years I took the subway when I lived in Chicago.

Another constant sound is the call of seagulls. They are unbelievably loud. I’ve lived with seagulls before. They are prevalent in Salt Lake City. There’s an old LDS story about how seagulls saved the early pioneers (my actual ancestors, some of whom came from this very region of Scotland). As the story goes, and it is a Mormon testimony of faith in God, the early settlers had finally managed to get in a good crop of vegetables and were preparing for healthier winter. But grasshoppers showed up and began to eat the plants, destroying the crops. The people were in despair, no idea what to do. They prayed and hoped for some kind of miracle. And then the seagulls arrived and ate the grasshoppers, and saved the crop. A miracle. At least that is how I recall the story. It’s been sixty years since I heard. I’ve thought of seagulls with fondness. Like other scavenger birds, they are important to the ecosystem. They are also really loud, especially when competing for food.

So I am leaving Glasgow this morning and heading three hours north, via train, to Oban, situated on the western coast. I managed, at the last minute, to get a hotel room. I hope it’s decent enough. It is a bit off the beaten bath, which could be a good thing? It’s good long walk to the main part of town, the train station, and ferry. I am hoping I feel like going to Iona tomorrow. That will be a day long journey on my only full day in Oban: a ferry across the bay to the Isle of Mull, a bus across the tip of Mull to the other side for another ferry to Iona. About a two hour, give or take, trip one way. Still, Iona is an important place to visit, the home of Christianity in Scotland. Many say that it is a deep and richly spiritual place. I could use some of that right about now. And some time away from the noises of city life - people and traffic, buses and trains and people. Of course there will be people in both Oban and Iona, it is tourist season after all. Waning tourist season, but the season nonetheless

And, no doubt there will be more seagulls….

I don’t feel nearly as tired and worn as I look in this photo. I take terrible selfies. Or, maybe I just can’t get used to how old I look (and am)…

Sabbatical Day 10: Filling Time

2022-08-07T04:39:00.002-04:00

Sabbatical Day 10: Filling time

Aside from Thursday, when I ran a slight fever and felt congested, I have had almost no symptoms from COVID. I’ve had colds worse than this. But, I know this is only because I continue to mask and am fully vaccinated and twice boosted. My immune system is working well.

That means, however, that I’ve had to find ways to fill my time while remaining mostly in this hotel room and feeling like I could be doing just about anything else. Except I also feel a bit like a pariah, an infected person carrying a potential deadly virus.

To fill my time I am once again thankful for my careful planning and packing. I thought I might want to do some yoga while here, but wasn’t sure how to make that happen since I was not going to bring a yoga mat. (And doing yoga on hotel room carpeting is a bit gross, not to mention one still slips on carpeting making it impossible to hold some postures).

One of my many wanderings through Amazon led me to something called Yoga Paws.

These are grippy open fingered and open toed strap on’s for hands and feet that allow one to hold poses. They are small and lightweight, perfect for travel. I use a hand towel for my face so I am not face down on the carpeting, and I have yoga videos that offer me a full yoga class. It’s a good way to fill an hour of time while also helping my breathing and mild congestion.

The other way I am filling time is coloring. Unfortunately I decided not to bring my coloring pencils and coloring book - even unpacked them! But here I was, wishing I had them. Luckily I found pencils and a Millie Marotta’s “Woodland Wild” coloring book at a nearby school supply store. I’m working on one of the images now. It’s a peaceful way to watch a little television and do something that entertains and relaxes me.

The third way I am filling time is listening to an audible book while knitting. I started listening to the most recent book in the Outlander series, “Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone (Diana Gabaldon). I’ve read all the other books, this is the first one I’ve listened too. I have not watched the television series. The book is narrated by Davinia Porter. I have to say that both the writing and the narration are a bit cloying and annoying. Yet, Porter does do a terrific job of narrating in different voices. The story line meanders through too many characters across too many different landscapes from North Carolina to Savannah, Georgia, during the Revolutionary War. But it doesn’t require one to pay a lot of attention to detail to follow along. It probably could have been half as long and still told the story well.

Another way I am filling time is going outside for walks. Or, at least I was. I have now walked every where I wanted to go. Yesterday I attempted a walk following the Glasgow City Center Circle on the All Trails app. I followed about half of it, going through parts of the city I had not yet been too. This included a long walk along some of the high end shopping district on Argyle Street, and finally the Museum of Modern Art.

I took this photo because my granddaughter loved a little sing song show where one of the characters sang a song called Marmalade Skies….

I wondered where this statue was. Glad to have found it at the Museum of Modern Art

A center for Italians in Glasgow, the statue says “Italia”

I’d go in to the museum if it weren’t for COVID. Eventually though the app was going to take my back up to the Necropolis and the Cathedral and I didn’t feel like doing that again, so I turned off the app and walked back to my hotel. I know have a decent sense of where I am in the city so I found my way back without using google maps.

I got the All Trails app on my phone for the trail I was following yesterday. I know a lot of people who use it. However I don’t think I’ll use after I leave here so I cancelled my trial subscription.

My plans for today include walking to Queen’s Station to pick up my train tickets to Oban and then from Oban to London.

I leave here tomorrow and can’t wait to get to a seaside town. The only hotel room available is in a Best Western a bit north, about a 20 minute walk from the train station. It’s an old Victorian house built for an Episcopal Bishop, I later learned. The hotel gets mixed reviews. But then so have all the other one’s I’ve stayed in. The most alarming though was the review that said that personal items aren’t safe when left in the rooms. YIKES. I guess when I go to Iona I’ll take my backpack with my iPad and headphones. I didn’t bring much else of any value, they are welcome to my dirty clothes. :-). I always wonder about reviews, good and bad. So many reflect the personality of the person doing the review. I tend to form my own opinion. We’ll see what I think of the place. I wouldn’t give great reviews to either of the places I’ve stayed so far - except that they served my purposes - mainly by being centrally located and close to bus lines and train lines - easy to find. Plus I accrue point via IHG. I already had a bunch left over from my travels to Chicago for conferences with the Lombard Mennonite Peace Center. Now I’ll have a lot more. Should be good for something in the future, maybe a stay in Ireland? Now, that would be a good way to redeem the disruption in this trip.

One week: Saturday morning musings while I drink coffee (Starbucks Venti)

2022-08-06T03:50:00.003-04:00

Sabbatical Day 9: I arrived in Scotland a week ago, right here in Glasgow. What a week it’s been. Some observations:

I am struck by number of people who smoke cigarettes, or vape.

I’ve been in two major cities, both of which are old and have a lot of dirt and trash. This is no different than any major city in the states. It’s just that I’ve lived in a small city for eleven years and trashy streets and sidewalks are not as prevalent. I do see people out cleaning up the trash, its just that the sheer number of people, particularly travelers, makes the job endless.

Seagulls. Tons of them. And they are loud. Yesterday I observed someone drop a pile of food on the sidewalk and before she could walk away the food was bombarded with gulls. They flew in from every direction, knowing that the food was there. Then most of them flew off the minute a bus drove by.

Children. I don’t know if parenting is different in Scotland than the US, but what I’ve observed, from the few children and parental interactions on public transit is that the kids are generally chatty, singing little songs, and eventually, as kids do, melting down. Tired? Perhaps. The Scottish lilt is particularly charming in children, “Mummy” and “Daddy”…parents generally seem calm. Although one set of parents appeared to be a little too lenient until their kids starting climbing around in potential risky ways. Then, when they tried to discipline the kids they kids were reactive. I can still hear the mom saying, “That is not act-ceptable.” And, “say you are sorry to Daddy.” And so on. The kids did not escalate into full blown temper tantrums, and eventually seemed to settle down My first day here, at the Queen Street train station waiting for the train to Edinburgh, a little boy had a complete melt down. I think he was reacting to the announcer over the loudspeaker announcing arriving and departing trains. It’s very loud. At one announcement he covered his ears, burst into tears, screaming, and then threw himself on the ground. The mother was gentle and calmly spoke to him. One of the station attendants, not sure what they are called, offered her hand and helped him. Then she gave him some little something, I couldn’t see what. He repeated the ear covering and screaming a few more times, then followed him mom and sister some place away from me. I though of all the moms in the US who seem to carry a different level of anxiety about the behavior of their children. Or, maybe it’s a difference in the people observing the interactions. I often think that people in the US are judgmental. Maybe people are less so? I don’t know. I am only observing what appears to be a greater level of overall calm around and with kids. And, I have only observed a couple of incidents….

Weather: nearly every day the forecast is for rain. However, it only rains off and on during the day, not all day. And it can turn sunny in an instant. Or, cloudy and rainy. The rain that I have experienced is drizzly. Only once, in Edinburgh, was I walking in actual rain, and that did not last long. It reminds me of Seattle. It’s also been, mostly, in the 60’s. But that does not feel cold or even cool. The humidity is high.

My preparations for this trip: I did a lot of research about where to stay and how to get around and what I needed. I have to say I did a good job. I have so far been really well prepared. I’ve found my way around with relative ease. I’ve had what I needed, including packing Aleve Cold and Sinus for the COVID symptoms. I needed the Aleve for about 24 hours, taking one Thursday night and one Friday morning. I haven’t needed it since, congestion now is mild. I did pack very lightly, as recommended by the retreat leader (the retreat I am missing because of COVID). And, I used the packing organizing bags that compress clothes. They’ve been quite handy. I packed one pair of jeans and wore another. I packed socks and underwear for a week, I packed one long sleeved shirt, and a turtle neck, and wore another long sleeved shirt layered over a sleeveless t-shirt. I also have a skort and t-shirt. I have one pair of waterproof walking shoes, that I have worn all day every day. And, I threw in a pair of Rothy’s because they are light and easy to pack and would give me an alternate shoe for short trips (or wearing around the retreat center). I intended to do laundry once I got to the retreat center. Instead I have washed clothes in the sink of my hotel room and found ways to hang them to dry, with a portable room fan blowing on them. It’s worked. I also carried a backpack with my iPad, vitamins, zip-lock bags of herbal tea (thank goodness I brought some herbal tea, I’ve needed that being sequestered to my hotel room with COVID). And, I brought my Brita refillable water bottle. I brought my headphones and my knitting, phone, charging cables, and the right kind of plug to use in the UK. The only thing I didn’t bring was my coloring pencils and coloring book. So I went out yesterday in search of these and found some at a local store that sells school and office supplies. All in all, I did quite well, including being prepared for COVID. I also had my hair cut with lots of layers so I could just let it go, no hair dryer or straightener. It’s been fine.

Hotel rooms: the rooms have been small but not uncomfortable. Toilet seats are remarkably smaller than in the US and are difficult to flush. It must be the water pressure or the plumbing or maybe an effort to conserve water? I don’t know, but it takes several attempts to actually get a toilet to flush. I seem to have figure out a generally effective technique.

Language: although we speak the same language, different words are used here for things. Elevators are lifts. Carry out food is take away. The train announces “mind the gap between the train and the platform.”

Sabbatical Day 7: COVID

2022-08-05T09:01:00.004-04:00

Sabbatical Day 8: Covid and trying to take the high road instead of dissolving into grief and despair. I so hate this virus. I have to say, though, that everyone I encounter in the UK is unmasked. It’s no wonder I got it.

I let the retreat people know that I had COVID. And, I called the travel insurance company to find out what I needed to do. They were incredibly helpful and kind. Thank goodness I paid for the insurance. It wasn’t cheap, but now it’s totally worth it. They referred me to a local medical center where I called and got a same day appointment for an official COVID test. It too was expensive, about $130.00 US. But they were a short walk from the hotel and easy to work with. That COVID test came back last night, also positive.

Thankfully I packed Aleve Cold and Sinus. That has helped with the congestion. Hopefully I have enough to get me through the congestion part of COVID, although, who knows how long that will last - a few days? a week? Longer? And, what I know from my FB friend who lives in Scotland, Aleve Cold and Sinus is not available here. It works well because it has pseudoephedrine, a better decongestant than the kind used now which doesn’t contribute to meth….However, it really dries me up, so I am drinking a ton of water. That’s probably a good thing anyway.

Now that I think about it, I think I was experiencing mild COVID symptoms on Monday, or maybe even Sunday? I woke one, or both of those days with slight congestion and a mild sore throat. It was an extremely mild sore throat. I thought I was just thirsty and when I drank water it went away. I also thought my allergies were reacting to some red wine I had the night(s) before. Oh well. I can wonder forever where I picked it up, but I’ll never know. The medical person who administered the COVID test was very nonchalant when I told her I had been careful, masked, vaccinated and twice boosted. She basically said, you’re gonna get it anyway. So, all I can hope for is that masking and vaxxing will keep the symptoms mild.

This morning was a little rough, emotionally. I am struggling with the idea of spending all of this time in the hotel. I wish I were in the country, some place beautiful. Some place I could see the water and the landscape. Instead I look out at a parking garage. And mostly, I wish I were home. This is no fun and very expensive way to be sick. (But again, thankfully I have travel insurance which should reimburse me for some of my expenses).

I spent the morning googling short bus trips to the highlands, if I test negative soon. I also considered heading over to Ireland and looked at short day trips around Dublin. What I’d really like is to not be in an urban center, I’d rather be on the coast. But, not sure I can make that happen. My hope is that I test negative by Monday or Tuesday, and I can travel somewhere besides Glasgow.

This morning I also decided to not have the awful machine coffee in the hotel and instead walked to Starbucks for a cup of good coffee, which I brought back to my room to have with some yogurt. Then after a fruitless hour of googling places I’d like to go, but probably won’t, I headed out to walk to the Glasgow botanic gardens. It was a long walk 50 minute walk through an interesting neighborhood.

The neighborhood was very ethnic, college student and maybe working class? Not sure. But I was on a main road. The shops were: grocery stores with out side fruit bins, vintage clothing stores, laundry services, Chinese medicine, and lots of cafes where people were eating outside. I also walked past St. Mary’s Cathedral, a Scottish Episcopal Church and another “cathedral” that looked like it was now a theater place. Or maybe it was multi-purpose because there were vans that said Cathedral Services, like some kind of social service agency.

The botanic gardens were okay. I didn’t go inside to any of the indoor gardens, I just walked outside. The world rose garden only had a few blooming roses. And the walk along the river was peaceful.

I walked back along the same route, and then down the street from the hotel to pick up some food. I bought a bunch of grapes and then in a small school supply store I bought some colored pencils and a coloring book. I almost brought mine with, but decided that I wouldn’t use them and I wanted to travel light.

It’s not yet 2pm here. The days feel long. But I’ve written this, had some of the grapes and a handful of salted peanuts I bought a few days ago, long with a cup of tea. I’ll spend the rest of the day killing time. I’ll knit and listen to my audible book (the latest in the Outlander series, it’s a bit tedious and bounces all over the place between characters, but at least I don’t have to listen to it carefully to get the gist of what is going on). I’ll color. And, I’ll practice French. I may run across the street to the little grocery store for a salad for dinner.

Sabbatical Day 6: Glasgow Museums on a Rainy Day

2022-08-03T10:58:00.003-04:00

Day 6, August 3: I had a good night of sleep last night, the least restless sleep I have had. I had my usual coffee concoction and plain yogurt with fruit compote. I read for a bit until it was late enough that I could walk to the museum and get there about the time it opened. It was very drizzly this morning, but not terribly cold. I came prepared for drizzly weather with a light weight water proof jacket and waterproof walking shoes, both had been comfortable and well used on this trip.

Google maps told me that the walk to Glasgow University and the Hunterian Museum was about 45 minutes. The walk was mostly residential but I had to cross a major thoroughfare, the M8. Thankfully there’s a bridge over it, so that was easy. Google maps is a little confused, can’t seem to quite get its bearing in Scotland. But I’ve learned to look for street names instead of just trying to follow the map on my phone. It was definitely confused when it tried to have me walk through a fenced off construction area, but I don’t expect it to know all those details. As I navigated around the construction I saw some cool buildings, including the Scottish Jewish Heritage Centre. That made me wonder about the history of Jewish people in Scotland. I’ll need to look that up.

I also walked past a bunch of other churches, Church of Scotland, an Episcopal Church that was obvious because of its red doors, and a Methodist church. The University grounds are lovely, tree lined, old and new buildings. Finding the entrance to the museum was just a little tricky, not too bad though, good signage.

The museum is full of fascinating artifacts, many of them part of the collection of a Dr. Hunter, who lived in the 18 &19th centuries. He was a doctor, and a collector of coins and art and a lot of other stuff. I loved the Roman archeology pieces from the Antonine Wall - built in the 2nd century during one of the brief periods that Rome had successfully conquered Scotland. These periods never lasted long and the wall. The collection includes many other interesting artifacts for Roman Britannia: altars built to the gods, pottery and daily living objects.

Other sections of the museum were dedicated to science and work that Dr. Hunter did as a doctor and scientist. Fascinating studies of obstetrics, with plaster molds of a pregnant woman’s body. The woman had died in her 9th month of pregnancy and Dr. Hunter did an autopsy and had plaster molds made to show the anatomy of the woman’s body, her uterus, her fetus. Knowing that this was an image of what had been a real woman made the display tragic. There was also a small exhibit dedicated to midwifery in Scotland and nursing.

After this part of the museum I found my way to another part of the university, a few blocks away, where the Hunterian art museum is located along with the Rennie Macintosh rooms. The art museum was lovely, interesting paintings. And the Macintosh rooms are a gorgeous display, with helpful docents filling in details. I absolutely loved the furniture designs, but I kept thinking that it had to have been very uncomfortable furniture to sit in for long.

Leaving the Hunterian museum I walked down a long, tree-lined road to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. This old gothic structure building made a statement all on its own.

Inside I paid the “concession” rate (senior citizens discount) to go into an exhibit of plays, paintings and other art of John Patrick Byrne. I admit that I have never heard of this artist, though he is big in the UK and comes from Glasgow. He wrote the Slab Boys Trilogy, and 1980’s cult TV dramas like Tutti Frutti and Your Cheatin’ Heart (which used country-western music as the backdrop to a comedy about life in Glasgow). I don’t know any of these, but I do know Billy Collins. He did the art work for a number of Billy Collin’s albums. They grew up together and have been friends. It was a terrific exhibit.

I left that exhibit and planned to wander a bit more around the museum, but it was mobbed with people, so I left. I wandered back into Glasgow City Center, even with google maps trying to take me in circles a few times, and found my way to the Willow Tea Rooms on Buchannon.

There I had a hearty lunch and some delicious tea. Now I’m back in my room, probably for the day. Tomorrow I pack up and take the bus and ferry to Belfast where I join the retreat that started this whole journey. 8 days with Gareth Higgins and Kathleen Norris, story-telling and some wandering around the country side, in the fashion of John O’Donohue.

Sabbatical Day 5: Ancestors

2022-08-02T13:58:00.004-04:00

Day 5, August 2: This morning was quiet. I went down to the first floor dining area for a cup of my coffee blend about 6:30. The dining area was quiet so I stayed and had a small bowl of plain yogurt with fruit compote and the coffee blend I’ve designed to create an almost decent cup of coffee, for machine coffee. I spent the rest of the morning in my room listening to an audible book and knitting. I took breaks and did some hand wash - a pair of jeans and two blouses that I’ve worn for travel days. I figure they will probably air dry by the time I need to wear them on Thursday. If not, there’s an iron and ironing board that can speed the drying along.

About 11:30 I headed out of the hotel and across the street for the Buchannan Bus station. Very convenient and super easy to get on and pay for my bus to Galston. The bus ride took 40 minutes and I was met by a Facebook friend, Kristina, and her husband. Kristina is the Presbyterian minister of the Church of Scotland church in Galston, the old family church. She drove us from Kilmarnock to Galston, a short distance, where we had lunch in a local pub. I had (of course) fish and chips and a fizzy water with some kind of fruity flavoring, I don’t remember what it was, but it was good.

After lunch I had a tour of the church and the graveyard on the land. The graveyard is maintained by “the council” not the church. All of the tombstones have been laid flat so that they can easily mow the grass and they are covered with moss, impossible to read. But, there is a pamphlet with a good list of who is buried in the church cemetery. James Boyd of Glasgow is in plot #18. He was born October 28, 1776 and died October 10, 1851. So, quite possible a relative. Elizabeth and Archibald Morton are also buried in the cemetery. Elizabeth died around 1804. Neither of these appear to be a direct ancestor, but there still may have been a family connection of some sort since people had 14 or more children in these days.

After touring the church and grave site we drove up a ways to the Galston public cemetery. There we found more people named Steel and Morton, but none that appear to be a direct relation to my family, Jane Morton Boyd Steel. Nonetheless, it was lovely to be on the land, or near the land, where my ancestors are from.

I understand why they left, but my imagination runs wild at the thought of what life might have been if they had not. Kristina drove me through a small, nearby town, that still has a mill with weaving and lace making, my family’s occupation before leaving Galston. I have some of the lace made by one of my great grandmothers, but it is unclear who made it. I also have an embroidery piece that I think was made by my mother’s father’s mother. (This great grandmother I knew and was quite fond of, she died when I was 19. She was a gardener and Christian Scientist, and she loved to play the piano and sing).

It was about 3:45 in the afternoon when Kristina dropped me off at the bus station. I quickly found the correct bus and boarded. We left about 5 minutes later, timing being perfect! The ride back to Glasgow was easy, although I was a bit drowsy.

Leaving the bus station I stopped in at the nearby grocery store and purchased a Caesar salad with chicken and a bag of five double chocolate cookies and headed to the hotel across the street. As has become my evening routine, I showered, at the salad with a glass of the Pinot noir that I had from the night before. Now I’m drinking a cup of herbal tea and enjoying a chocolate cookie. Tomorrow I plan to head to Glasgow University and their Hunterian Museum. I plan to walk over, about 30 minutes. I tour the museums (art and history) and then walk back the southern route planning to walk down Argyle Street (and maybe shop), perhaps go back to the Willow Tea rooms for another afternoon tea.