tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56285907882583726542024-03-13T08:24:50.350-07:00The WandererThe travels, experience and work of a media manager who is blessed to be working in many countries around the world where she meets interesting people and has once in a lifetime incredible experiences.Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.comBlogger385125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-47015672164283259312015-11-18T03:30:00.000-08:002015-11-18T03:30:06.299-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Having a great time enjoying all things Indian. Yesterday was a culinary delight...Shirley outdid herself. I had dinner plans to see some friends from The News-Press days; so, Shirley made Ragda Patties for us for lunch. These are potato patties that are fried. The patties get put in a bowl and are covered with a chickpea sauce. This is then topped with a sweet date chutney and a tamarind chutney. The next layer is a nice spicy green chile and coriander chutney that has onions, lime, garlic and salt added. We kept building! Atop that came chopped tomatoes and onions and then, the last layer of topping was sev. (pronounced: save) Sev is a crunchy noodle made with chick pea flour. When all was layered and built up, we mashed it all together and gobbled it down.<br />
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The second round was called Bhel Poori and that started with diced boiled potatoes, topped with onions, tomatoes, and the sweet and green chili chutneys from above. We added a layer of puffed rice, sev and poori, which is a chip made from whole wheat flour, rice flour and cream of wheat and then fried. The poori we crumbled up on top and then, again, mashed and mixed it all together.<br />
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Apparently, once the chutneys are made, one can modify the meals and tastes quite easily. Later in the day, we went to a new Indian market and I bought a few items to bring home. What was amazing was the number of chutneys one can purchase. And, any sauce is called a "chutney." Wish we had easy access to ethnic foods in Caseville.<br />
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We also stopped at Beall's Outlet store...one of my favorite places for a quick stop and shop experience. Found a couple of tops and a Christmas gift.<br />
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When I got back to Shirley's house after dinner, I had an email from Bookingbuddy.com regarding a hotel reservation I made for the night between my DRC trip and this Florida trip. At one point, my travel plans butted up against each other and I would not have been able to get any rest after the lengthy DRC trip before heading to the airport in Flint to leave for Ft. Myers. So, I decided to stay in Saginaw, wake up and head to the Flint airport the next morning. Tickets were later changed which allowed me to go home, sleep, unpack, repack and head to Flint. Despite calling to cancel, the web folks don't believe I did this. This morning's email asked who I spoke with to cancel my booking. Hmmm...wrote down the date I did this and the number I called but didn't take the person's name. Another lesson learned.<br />
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Went for a nice warm walk yesterday morning. Great to be out in the sunshine and wonderful to be able to move comfortably. November 17 and out in shorts and t-shirt: HEAVEN!</div>
Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-34590101681617456842015-11-17T03:40:00.002-08:002015-11-17T03:40:49.168-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Kinshasa seems like just yesterday. However, I am in the depths of planning a trip to India and Cambodia, staying with Shirley and Lily who are from Bangalore, India and I am immersed in all things Indian, including a huge array of Indian foods, sweets and drinks. As I try new eats, I mention foods from other countries that I have eaten with glee. These ladies would NOT eat caterpillars...but we are laughing together and they are watching my face as I try items, like the sweet treat called, "barfy." Sounds nasty but very tasty!<br />
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Back to Kinshasa....While travelling on the tour and to and from the Embassy and training, we passed traffic robots. These are very innovative and some of them actually worked. These robots were created in the DRC and parallel our traffic lights, except...these are robots. Check out an article and photos by Aljazeera, a news organization. Or, just google, "DRC traffic robots" to see how cool these are. There was no chance to take a photo...traffic is wild in Kinshasa.<br />
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At the National Museum, there were a couple of sculptures which had been moved from another area of the city to this park area which used to be the home of President Mobutu's Palace. It is a huge property with a large amphitheater where George Foreman once boxed. This statue represents the horrors of the building of the first railway here by the Congolese. It is difficult to see, but there is a prone body lying in front of these working men. He is dead as so many died while building the railway for the conquerors, who were rich and powerful.<br />
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The military statue represents the Belgian Army's defeat of the Germans. Belgium truly imprinted this country with everything from food, arts, and language. Right after WWII, industry arrived and the quality of life for many Congolese improved. This is a very poor country with a fairly low literacy rate. Families must pay a certain amount of money per child for an education and many families cannot afford that. While in the park, which used to be Mobutu's zoo, we passed a toddler...filthy, small pair of almost whole shorts and all alone. A lady I was walking with asked, "Should we tell someone he is all alone?" We talked about it and left the boy alone. Clearly, he knew where he was going. He wasn't crying and he was digging in the dirt. I suggested he might be looking for bugs or worms to eat which is normal in many countries. We continued our walk down the walk way and never saw another Congolese person. No other child, female or male in this huge park. We passed our tour group members...but no one else. He appeared totally alone. I have thought of him often as I decide I have had too much to eat, or I cannot take another bite.<br />
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When we stopped by a small street market for a quick look at local "art" I negotiated the purchase of two masks for our wall of masks from around the world. The larger, which I don't have a photo of but will take when I get home, is from the Ngwaka tribe which is an Equatorial group. The smaller mask is Kisai. One of the guides came with me because I knew the only thing I would buy would be masks. I don't speak French and thought I might need help. I was offered many masks but chose the larger one I thought I might like and was given a price which I knew was the start of round one. We came to a reasonable price....most likely more than I needed to pay and I continued on back to the bus. I was seated and we were waiting for a couple more folks to board the bus and the man I had bought the mask from tapped on my window. He had several small masks in his hand and offered me a deal. I laughed...negotiated a lower price and then, took a dollar off of that deal and gave him $3.00. He was clapping his hands as he walked away!<br />
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Near the amphitheater at Mobutu's former residence is a cemetery where many who fought in the war are buried. Most were Belgians and Dutch fighters. As you can see, this is not a well kept area. Yet, other parts of this huge estate/now museum are presentable. The photo below is the walkway we were traversing when we say the child all by himself. He was to the left of us digging in the dirt.<br />
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I tried very hard, despite wanting to do otherwise, to not take photos of local people. I was told that some people believe taking photos is tantamount to stealing their spirit. I asked the tour guides about this and they appeared unsure.<br />
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While at the museum, we had lunch provided by the tour group. Rather interesting...we had cold water, and the largest sub sandwich I have ever seen. The interesting part? We were outside and handed our sandwiches. There were no tables or chairs and we all had backpacks, purses and bags. This is a land of bugs...many were being dive bombed by aggressive mosquitoes and those of us who were not being eaten by these, were trying to sit on the ground and eat. Thankfully, the bugs seemed to enjoy the younger, blonde women the most! On the ground, we experiences what might be sisters to our fire ants but larger and more aggressive. I ate part of my sandwich, put the rest in my purse, picked myself up from the ground and walked away rapidly while fanning myself.<br />
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While in the museum, one of the guides played this wooden tambour which was used to send messages in Bwangwa around 1906. It had a deep powerful sound....and when the guide beat harder on it, one could feel the urgency and imagine someone sending a message of impending danger to tribe members.<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-91458994425314639712015-11-16T03:32:00.000-08:002015-11-16T03:32:12.146-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am in Ft. Myers, Florida with my friends, Shirley and Bharath, Shirley's sister, Lily is here from Bangalore, India and Shirley, Lily and I have started the process of planning our trip to India and Cambodia which will commence late in April of 2016. Lily has the most incredible photos of sites we may visit...some she has experience with and others she "knows" from living in the region and from stories her friends have shared.<br />
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Now...back to Kinshasa!<br />
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Before leaving for Ft. Myers, I slept over at Heidi and Chris' house in Davison. Their son, Chase, is studying Africa in social studies and he needed to review for an upcoming quiz. I was able to check out his map and told him to ask his teacher if I could come share photos and stories from my work/visits to Rwanda, Uganda, Kenya, Ethiopia and the DRC. Hope he and the class will have some interest. I was showing Chase where the River Nile splits the Congo and the DRC on his map. I was told, but have not checked, that the Nile is the longest river in the world and the Congo River is the deepest, after the Amazon.<br />
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What little industry there is in the Kinshasa area, came during WWII. The country is also known for its minerals and is a huge copper mining area. The majority of their products is imported and I found it interesting, that despite the huge forests, there is no paper production in the country which accounts for the huge cost of printing newspapers. Paper is imported and warehoused.<br />
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As the tour guide was rehashing the DRC history, it was mentioned that the former President Patrice Lumumba was murdered and apparently put in a vessel of acid as punishment. We stopped to see a monument in his honor and the visit was a memorable one. We were on one of the major highways...three lanes going each way. The driver pulled the tour van over in the lane closest to oncoming traffic and stopped. Yup...stopped on a major highway with two other lanes of traffic whizzing by us. After no conversation for about five minutes, the tour guide hopped up and popped the door open and said, "Let's go." We disembarked and were hopping down into lane two of the highway! One person was on crutches and everyone was a tad upset. We walked around the front of the van, crossed the other three lanes of traffic to walk up to the statue.<br />
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Along this highway, we encountered a miles long community garden. There were men and women sitting near the plants, weeding and picking veggies. A great idea to help feed those in need and apparently, anyone can access this food. Of course, they may need to navigate the incredible traffic to get there!<br />
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Not my best photo but, I swear, I was scared to death with this whole process. It was shoot and run!<br />
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Later we stopped in front of the Parliament building but this was another site where photos were forbidden. The Parliament consists of two bodies: the Senate and the Assembly.<br />
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Our driver was listening to a radio station which broadcasts in Lingala, the language of this area. Interestingly, there is Lingala TV and radio but no newspaper in that language. I, of course, asked why and the last day, a guy from off the street, who came in to the library at the US Embassy indicated that though everyone speaks Lingala, it is not taught in school and people would not know how to read in that language. I thought it fascinating that the print media group couldn't come up with that very reasonable explanation!</div>
Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-21613923111789871152015-11-15T06:58:00.003-08:002015-11-15T06:58:39.553-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
While in Kinshasa, I visited the Mausoleum of Laurent Kabila, a former President of the DRC. We were very carefully told where and how we could take photos and this area was notably vacant. There were no Congolese in sight, except for our tour guides despite this being a "national treasure." There are government buildings near by and there is a serious concern that there may be photos taken, or unsavory individuals might do damage. We were watched carefully by military police.<br />
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The burial site for Kabila is in an open air building. Notice the fist to the front left of the photo below. There are five of these fists holding/anchoring the building. The five fists signify the help and assistance given to Kabila as he took control of his country. The five countries that aided him in the take over of the DRC were: Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Tanzania and Angola. The actual coffin was down a few steps and covered with their flag. The photo of the flag appears above. A decoration on the upper level includes the lion, the symbol of strength and peace fronds.<br />
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These fists are terrifically impressive. NO way to look at these and not know the strength brought to this fight. Kabila's statue appears in front of the mausoleum and we were yelled at when taking a photo of this. Apparently, the government buildings behind the mausoleum and to the left are protected. Fortunately, my camera was not taken!! Interestingly enough, none of the statues I saw as we toured the city and museums had any plaque labeling what one was looking at; nor did they indicate who created the statue.</div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-57755599132838576922015-11-14T18:04:00.000-08:002015-11-14T18:04:38.847-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Interestingly, as we toured the city of Kinshasa, our tour guide pointed out where the Muslims lived. Later, he pointed out the Catholic sector and then, we went through one of the poor sections of town, followed by the rich people's area. Segregation of all sorts occur within the city and folks are not concerned about pointing that out. We passed the oldest church in Kinshasa, which was built in the late 1800's and was established by the Baptists. The building is still being used. We drove along the side of this church, which had broken windows and looked a bit unkempt. The tour guide said it still holds services every Sunday. One of the other tour members noticed that the church had broken windows, and the guide indicated that, "God doesn't care if windows are whole or not. People still attend and pray there." Loved it.<br />
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While discussing the history of the country and Kinshasa, it was mentioned that "ki or kin" is added to various place names and it means, "the." So, Kin means "the" and Shasa means, "sold." "The sold" is an area which had been sold and bought from the Belgians. Kiswahili means, "The Swahili." I understood that there were two languages: Kiswahili and Swahili and that they were sister languages, similar to dialects. Nope...these are the same. For example, kicongo is what one calls the language of, "the Congo." After awhile, I asked that we talk in, "Kianglaise," or the English...which I needed to hear after tiring of hearing French for so long. The translator thought this humorous!!<br />
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I heard several mentions of owls in conversations so asked a bit about why they were so important. It was pointed out that there are night time owls and day time owls. These look alike, but the nighttime owls are called, "hibou" which is also what the secret police are called. Both are lurking around at night...watching. The daytime owl is called chouette and is very passive and apparently, not predatory at all.</div>
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We stopped at The National Museum and saw incredible photos and sculptures. Best were indigenous pictures of tribal scaring, ritual circumcision and labial plates. The tribal scaring and ritual circumcision photos were taken of the Kutu, Bolia and Topoke tribes. Labial plate photos were taken of women in the Oriental Provinces, in the area of Kisangani or "the Kisangani." There was a great video of the Katanga women dancing and I swear, their dance looked just like the dances of the Inuits in Alaska. The similarities were greater than the dissimilarities.</div>
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At the museum, which was open air and in disarray, was this picture of Jesus created by Dina Ekanga Walo. She created this with small needles, positioned to create this image. There were several of this type and the shadowing was amazing.</div>
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Around the corner from the picture of Jesus was a painting called, "Life is a combat." A painting of a man and woman engaged in a fight for life...for decisions, for right. Looked perfect to me...think marriage!!</div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-23565762210196757752015-11-11T22:00:00.000-08:002015-11-11T22:00:02.048-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thought I would share a couple of experiences from my Kinshasa visit that still have me laughing every time I think of them. After I arrived here and I finally had my suitcase in hand, I passed through customs, and then, moved on to have my shot card checked. My seat mate from Paris had warned me about the shot "certification" process and that I watch because this was the first place unsuspecting visitors might be bribed. The man checking my card quickly ran down the shots and looked at me and started grinning. He explained I would have to have a yellow fever shot before entering the country. Or, he indicated, as he furtively looked at me and around and behind himself, that for $50.00, he would let me go without the shot. Otherwise, I would have to go over there...as he waved to a closed door and get a shot NOW. I smiled widely, took my card and pointed to my yellow fever shot which I had taken 8.5 years ago. These shots are good for 10 years. The card had been stamped officially, documenting that the shot had been given in Florida. Poor guy! He KNEW he had made some fast money from this old, white haired lady. I won! He lost! As he waved me on and out, I smiled cheerfully and waved back at him!!<br />
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I met "Il Papa" or, "the pope" as he introduced himself to me in the elevator. He was a very short older man with an unusual hat atop his head. At the third floor, he opened the door and held it open and began singing Amazing Grace in Italian. After a couple of minutes of beautiful singing, he shut the door and we again stopped at the sixth floor. He held the door open, looked at me and the other two ladies in the elevator and continued belting out his song. He stopped singing as we continued our ascent and asked if we liked meeting the pope? I suggested I liked his singing but wondered if he sang also in another language, possibly French or Lingala? I also mentioned I had seen the pope (not in reality but on TV) and he laughed.<br />
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Another time, in the elevator, one of the hotel staff people began chattering at me in French. I mentioned I didn't speak French but, if he spoke more slowly, I might understand him. He began French 101 with me. He asked me my name and I answered appropriately and he told me his was Freddie. I had to ask him in French what his name was. Then, he asked where I was from and we practiced how to ask that of someone. I was asked if I liked the hotel and practiced how to say that. I am staying on the 10th floor. To get the language lesson in...we stopped at every floor. This extra special service and friendliness was everywhere here. I would love to see some job descriptions to see if this is just cultural or expected of employees. Last night, while eating with Lidia from the CDC in Atlanta, we both experienced our first person who was either having a bad day or had missed the memo about smiling, helping, and serving guests quickly and efficiently. Both of us commented on this young lady and how she did not fit the rest of the employees' work ethic.<br />
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Next post will have photos!</div>
Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-47158976584469905342015-11-11T13:07:00.000-08:002015-11-11T13:07:09.822-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today was an incredible gift. I was supposed to speak to a group at a Kinshasa University on business and media ethics. It was moved to today so that I could take a Kinshasa tour and see a bit of the city...of 10 million people! This is a relatively short trip with lots of speaking, sharing and training. So, tomorrow, I have two university groups and I have to go somewhere before noon and get my tickets and leave my luggage for my 10:30 p.m. flight. Yup...before noon for late at night. That is how we do it here.<br />
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And, speaking of here....a few stories from today. We stopped in the middle of a three lane highway and sat for about 5 minutes. The driver and our tour guides said nothing. Then, the guide hopped up, opened the door and told us to get out. We stepped into the middle highway lane with a ton of cars, with drivers who don't obey any obvious rules, whizzing by us. One woman from the Embassy who is severely handicapped and on crutches had some serious concerns and trouble exiting and we had a young kid on the bus who just jumped out and his mother about puked. The reason for stopping?? There was a statue of an historical perspective and the tour guide wanted us to take a picture of it. Yup...in the middle of the highway, two tour buses full of people were taking photos. Only about 20 of us...but still, a tad dangerous.<br />
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Our first stop was La Gare Central, the central train station. We were told we could only take a photo of one train car...that is the rule. We walk inside and a man in front of us was screaming because the cops had taken his camera. He wasn't with our group but walked in and saw hundreds of cool old train cars from the last 100 or so years and shot a photo. He hadn't heard the rule apparently. He was still making a fuss when we left. Lots of no taking photos in Kinshasa! These were old cars, and the trains weren't running , although there are more modern ones that do and are high speed. The country is refurbishing these and apparently don't want outsiders to see them at work.<br />
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This car is the only one we could take.<br />
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I loved seeing all of the men carrying huge packages on their heads. This guy must have had 40 or 50 pounds of water bags for sale atop his head.<br />
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Interestingly, as we drove around, I saw several men with a pyramid shaped box like package, filled with fresh eggs for sale. Not sure if one buys a level...top level had fewer eggs and lower had many more. Possibly, one buys a dozen and he had packaging elsewhere. The tour guide was busy and I forgot to revisit this.<br />
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At the central station there was a huge fountain which wasn't working and at each corner was a huge leopard guarding the side. Leopards here signify justice. Interestingly, the huge plaza had about 50 flagpoles and not one flag flying. There were also no Congolese in this beautiful plaza, except for our tour staff. This lack of locals was seen everywhere we went. No one local at the National Museum or at the Mausoleum of Kabila, a former president. More on the Mausoleum tomorrow!<br />
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Saw a young man on the street wearing a shirt that announced, "Sarcasm is one of the services I provide."<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-68446452475967831242015-11-10T09:27:00.000-08:002015-11-10T09:27:45.642-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Not sure why the photos are lining up this way and not letting me wrap text around them...but, the photo below is part of what I had for lunch today. Rather hard to see, but this is called Mbimzo in the Lingala language, which is one of their languages. Most speak French and either Lingala or Swahili. What is this dish you might ask??? These are caterpillars cooked with sesame seed, tomatoes and eggs. Yup...caterpillars. Crunchy and delicious...I went back for seconds! Look closely...you can see their little bodies and the segments that make up this creature.<br />
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One of the guys in today's session wanted me to have a photo of myself training. He really liked how I wore my headset and held my pink microphone!! Had a great day. Yesterday was broadcast executives and producers and today, was dedicated to print journalists and media executives. We had one media owner who kept explaining to me that I didn't understand. </div>
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One of the guys in today's session wanted me to have a photo of myself training. He really liked how I wore my headset and held my pink microphone!! Had a great day. Yesterday was broadcast executives and producers and today, was dedicated to print journalists and media executives. We had one media owner who kept explaining to me that I didn't understand. He kept trying to explain why it is OK to have a full page "article" paid for by a company. I cannot speak French but I could pick up that this article was all a one sided glorification piece. Clearly paid. The owner explained that this is journalism and I thought it more like advertising and it should be labelled as that or labelled paid content. Some of the other execs were laughing...he thought this much easier than actually selling content or selling ads. Not one of the 13 papers I flipped through had any paid advertising. So, we moved on and ahead and by the end of the day, the majority got the concept of creating sustainable business plans/revenue streams etc. Can't wait to read their evaluations. Based upon yesterday's evals, I spent more time today working on marketing, branding and sales while not ignoring Business and Journalism Ethics. Yesterday's photos of the group turned out horrid. Folks are supposed to send me some so I can post.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JQkHXfIgnu0/VkIjun70aSI/AAAAAAAACAE/R-ibZo38nRk/s1600/P1050170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JQkHXfIgnu0/VkIjun70aSI/AAAAAAAACAE/R-ibZo38nRk/s320/P1050170.JPG" width="320" /></a>Here is a photo of the folks in our group today. There were three women who attended and I did not hear their voices at all until after the meeting and the group photo shots were done. I offered the microphone to each of them. Asked each questions indicating I wanted to hear their voices and their opinions...several times. At the very end, all three came up, hugged me and asked if we could take a photo together. I did..and then, all three, using our translator, explained how happy they were that I used them as examples of encouraging everyone to speak up and out. In this country...women ask for permission to shop, spend money, give advice, offer suggestions.<br />
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As we discussed diversity, equity, fairness and more..it was so easy to include women, youth, older people, folks from tribes in their planning, their decision making and execution. This is the print group and the photo is awful but so much better than yesterday's. The lighting was terrible in the room and I am hoping I will get some better photos from one of the Embassy folks. Off to dinner...more later.<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-11382234258195484282015-11-09T12:01:00.001-08:002015-11-09T12:01:06.737-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The trip to Kinshasa, DRC took about 24 hours including airport layovers and minor schedule changes. It was relatively easy except for the fact that I could not sleep, despite have a reclining seat, pillow and blanket. Night one, the man in front of me snored so loudly, if I could have slept in the awkward position, the noise would have raised me and others from the dead! My new favorite airline is Air France. Without exception, the flight attendants and airport reps were superbly polite, cheerful and engaging. I had a ball watching the gentleman sitting next to me, flirt actively with the flight attendant who played along and then...cut him off with a grin and wave. He was laughing like crazy and prefers Brussels Air but thought aloud that he might have to make a change in carriers.<br />
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Today, Monday, was my first work day and I had 12 members of radio companies in attendance. We were to begin at 9 a.m. but actually started around 9:30. We worked on DRC time and, as it turned out, had plenty of time to exchange information, learn about strategic and operational planning and why business and journalistic standards are so critical to maintain and embrace. I was terrifically impressed with the participants' openness, willingness to share, and question some of the information I was sharing with them.<br />
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Because the day was a long one, I didn't have time to go out and see anything. I did take a couple of photos at the hotel. Brazzaville, the capitol of the Congo, and Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo are the two closest capitols in the world. Each is on one side of the Congo River and one can see Brazzaville and its iconic bridge from the hotel, where I am housed.<br />
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The bridge photo was taken inside of a lounge so it is difficult to see clearly...beautiful and in some ways, reminds me of the Mackinaw Bridge. The hotel is very modern and had I known where I was staying in advance, I would have brought swim and gym gear. Had a great dinner tonight with a woman from the CDC in Atlanta and I should have photos of our dinner...yup, interesting. The huge cactus is from the front garden and you can see the name of the hotel. I am at the Kempinski Hotel Fleuve Congo and it is a high rise building which one cannot see in this photo.<br />
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Please be patient....I have not been on this blog in three years and am finding that the blog template and photo uploading has been changed. So learning...again!<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-23253155354382494152015-10-26T07:15:00.000-07:002015-10-26T07:15:58.209-07:00Jekyll Island and Darien<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ua_MbN_2AfM/UV9q09UlTnI/AAAAAAAABtA/Q7HUdjggCUQ/s1600/spring+break+2013+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ua_MbN_2AfM/UV9q09UlTnI/AAAAAAAABtA/Q7HUdjggCUQ/s320/spring+break+2013+007.JPG" width="320" /></a>Vacation was a riot. My niece, Shelli and her two sons, Jaxon and Mason came to visit as a surprise to her cousins, my daughters, Kristin and Heidi. At one point, we were 15 people in the house...a bit of a hassel but so much fun. We went to the beach and enjoyed the sunshine and each other. Here are Chris, Heidi and Mason, Shelli's son. </div>
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<span style="color: black;">We plunked down on the beach and ended up sitting next to this musician. The guy played music and sang for hours and we thoroughly enjoyed listening to him. Asked him if we could take his photo when we left and thanked him for adding to the ambiance! He chuckled loudly.</span></div>
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We have the coolest huge tub in our master bedroom. It is mammoth and has jets that don't work but the soaking has been fun for all.This is Jaxon on the left...Shelli's youngest son and Layne, Kristin and Pat's daughter. They needed to take a bath...together. Quite fun.<br />
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Owen and Chase had a soak also but I don't have a photo of that...they are "big boys" now.</div>
Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-61166424617227265772015-10-26T07:13:00.000-07:002015-10-26T07:13:04.665-07:00More Hirot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A street scene in Hirot. Kids here pretty much go to school or not when they feel like it. Education, like in Honduras is not a national priority for the government.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6zggtNaK6M/SyJ0srwZ0MI/AAAAAAAAARw/R1aEVSy1DNY/s1600-h/Tajikistan,+Hirot+004.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414018013061566658" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l6zggtNaK6M/SyJ0srwZ0MI/AAAAAAAAARw/R1aEVSy1DNY/s400/Tajikistan,+Hirot+004.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a> Shoes were on display here and boots are a biggie. The flowered dresses the women wear, generally the older women, are made of velvet or velvet like material. That is the winter wear. I will take a photo of the young women. The contrast is incredible.<br />
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This is the street scene in Hirot at 2:00 on a Friday afternoon. The streets and the sidewalks were crammed full and everyone was feeling and acting very happy and festive. There apparently is a fort nearby but we were terrifically busy so I saw nothing other than normal city life.</div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-51206700386495178492015-10-26T07:10:00.000-07:002015-10-26T07:10:15.381-07:00Learning "how we do it"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have been absent from my blog for quite awhile...there are no real excuses but I have a lengthy list, none the less. It is especially enjoyable to blog while travelling and, for some reason, despite having traveled the past couple of years with our grand kids, I didn't write and post photos. Possibly, FaceBook is the offending culprit. FB is so easy to use and quickly update but it is NOT a source of depth, meaning and memories...at least, for me. So, here I am again.<br />
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These past few years were filled with great stories and great leaps of faith. I have met the most wonderful people in our new home, Caseville, Michigan where we have had a "cottage" for ages. Now, Caseville brings new meaning to a culture shift. I have never lived in such a tiny community: a community where everyone knows everyone else, their business, who they are related to, where they eat, with whom they sleep and more!<br />
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We are a community without diversity, which bothers me to no end. We are predominately white, we all speak English, and many have very similar middle class upbringings. One does see some cultural and ethnic diversity during our yearly, 10 day August celebration called, "Cheeseburger in Paradise," named after Jimmy Buffet. Tons of music, great food, interesting vendors and much drinking and carrying on. Normally, Caseville is a relatively quiet community but this event brings tens of thousands to our tiny community. Streets are packed, bands are found in most parks, one can find 20 or 30 different types of burgers on sale and people are allowed to pack coolers full of alcoholic drinks and take them into the parks to enjoy while listening to the various bands.<br />
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Summer is an exciting, vibrant time of year for our community. Cottages are full on weekends, vacationers come to swim, boat, fish and chill in our town. Stores and restaurants are open...business is brisk and there is much to do. Come Labor Day...that all changes. Stores shut down, restaurants either close or reduce their hours, school starts, vacationers and weekenders are busy in the city...and we are practically a ghost town.<br />
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The other day, I ran into a friend in town and mentioned that I was meeting another friend at the Wooded Island, a restaurant in town, and Dave indicated I would not be going there. They are only open now Thursday through Sunday. It was Wednesday. Change of plan!<br />
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I live in this community and am trying very hard to get involved. I want to know how and why we operate the way we do. To that end, I have become involved in our food pantry, volunteering and meeting more people who live, work, volunteer and love our area and all it has to offer. I have joined our Caseville Methodist Church, and although I have attended church over the years fairly regularly, it was in a Catholic Church and I went to church to worship, not to be an active participant in the church. Now, as a member, I find I want to be involved with committees and help make our church an extension of my family. I want to worship and celebrate with an extended "family." This church feels like home to me...love it.<br />
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Growth in my community has included attending city council meetings every month when I am in town. I have always voted but, again, I never wanted to know how the city I lived in worked or why it worked the way it did. Now, I want to know the players, want to know the decision makers, and want to question why we are doing x, y or z. Hoping to join the planning commission shortly and Richard laughs and says that I will soon run for city council. HAHAHHAHAHAHA!<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-43333817437471557722013-12-22T14:15:00.002-08:002013-12-22T14:15:12.193-08:00The story of Alex's birth....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
NOTE: This is a story written by my daughter, Kristin. This story was read on Alex's birthday until the last couple of years. This first year of his not being with us on his birthday, reminded me of our traditions. And so...here is Kristin's version of Alex's birth and entry into our certifiably insane family. We laugh and love with vigor.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we sit around the fir tree,
reading the traditional, “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” I look around at my
family with wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of them bring to
mind special feelings. My mother, who has been through several surgeries in the
past few months, is smiling and sipping a small glass of white wine. My
stepfather, Richard, still fairly new to the family after a mere 11 years of
marriage to my mother, is oblivious to the goings on and is watching whatever
sports program happens to be on at the moment. My sister, Heidi, her red hair
flying, is chasing her two children around the room, trying to get them to
listen to the story. And, my brother, Alex 10 years old, just a few days
earlier, is listening intently as I finish the book that has been a staple for
our Christmas Eves since I was a little girl. Alex has always held a special place
in my heart and as I look at him this Christmas Eve night, I am in awe at the
impact he has had on my life since even before he was born.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If I remember correctly, my Mom
told us she was going to try and have another baby on a Thursday afternoon. I
had come over to visit after work and Heidi had just gotten home from school.
We were sitting in the kitchen drinking a pop and she blurted it out like she
had been holding this decision inside for weeks.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Girls, Richard and I have been
thinking a lot about this and we have decided that we are going to pursue
having another child.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You are kidding, right?” I said.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, I’m not. I’ve talked to a few
doctors at the University of Michigan and it is possible to have my tubes
untied so we can try and conceive a baby.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
cannot believe this,” said Heidi. “I’m probably going to end up babysitting
this kid all the time.” She was 16 at the time and not too sensitive about
other people’s feelings.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My
Mom didn’t get upset about that comment, but just continued with her
explanation of how the surgery was going to work. “The doctors have to do an
ultrasound first. Then, they will determine whether or not they can even
reconnect my tubes. If they do the surgery, there is only a 25% chance that it
will work. So, don’t get upset about anything, yet, OK?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am the worry wart in the family,
so I had to ask, “Are you sure this is safe? You are 38 years old.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, it is fairly safe. You know,
there’s always a risk when it comes to surgery. But, I don’t think it is going
to be a very big deal. I just won’t be able to do anything really strenuous for
a couple of weeks.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother did end up having the
surgery. She was right. She didn’t move around much for a few weeks, but she
did go right back to work. She did eventually start feeling better, though. In
mid-April, which, if we didn’t live in Michigan, should be about the time the
trees are budding and the flowers blooming, my mother asked me to go to with
her to Meijer, a huge Walmart like store. I agreed. The day didn’t seem any
different than any other, but that soon changed.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were walking through the Health
& Beauty Aid section when my mother said, “Maybe we should pick up a test.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What kind of....oh my God!!!!” I
screamed and gave my mother a hug. “I thought you were supposed to wait a few
more weeks before you started trying to conceive?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I was feeling pretty good, so we
tried a couple of weeks ago. And, now I need a pregnancy test, OK?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I can’t believe it. I thought
there was a really small chance that this would work,” I said.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It’s not positive yet,” my Mom
said.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We got to the checkout lane and my
mother started acting strange. “What is wrong, Mom?” “Could you buy the test?
No one will believe it is for me anyway?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I bought the test and we went to my
mother’s house in Laingsburg. She took the test and it was positive. I joked,
“Fertile Myrtle can only get pregnant one month out of the entire year!!! And
you did it three times!!” My sister and I were January babies and it was apparent,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by our calculations, this baby would be
born in January also.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother’s pregnancy went fairly
smooth until her fourth or fifth month. She did have some strange cravings,
though. I don’t think I had ever seen my mother eat peanut butter in my entire
19 years, but when she was pregnant, she couldn’t get enough of the stuff. My
stepfather started shopping at Sam’s Wholesale Club because he couldn’t keep
enough peanut butter in the house. Upon reaching the beginning of her second
trimester, she started having trouble. She had amniocentesis since she was over
35 and had a whole bunch of other tests to determine if the baby was healthy or
not. I was at work when my mother called me into her office (she was my boss at
The Lansing State Journal) to let me know the results of her testing. My mother
was being very calm and it scared me.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mom? What’s wrong? Is something
wrong with the baby?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She said, “The doctors think the
baby has ‘water on the brain.’”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What does that mean?” I asked.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That means the baby could have
brain damage. Things started going wrong when I had the amnio. The puncture hole
that the doctor made with the needle never closed up; so, amniotic fluid has
been leaking for the past few weeks.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Is the baby going to die?” I asked
as tears were flowing down my face.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“They don’t know yet. They are
going to do more tests and we should know something by the end of the week.
But, honey, there is something else you need to know.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh, no...what?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“We are having a boy.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At that point, we both burst into
tears. No one in the family had ever wanted a baby boy. Girls are so much cuter
and prettier and you can dress them up in frilly little dresses. We cried for
about ten minutes and as we were holding each other, we started laughing. Little
giggles at first. Followed by some tittering and, then, out loud laughs
punctured by guffaws. We couldn’t stop. We went from one extreme of emotions to
another in 30 seconds flat. At that moment, we both knew that everything would
be OK, even if the baby did turn out to be a boy.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Everything did end up being OK. My
mother was prescribed complete bed rest by her doctor for the remaining four
months. This was unbelievably difficult for my mother because she is a
workaholic and a perfectionist rolled into one mere mortal. She became more
domestic than I had ever seen before. She baked, did crafts, prepared the
baby’s room and did a multitude of other things that were not typical of her
personality. Oh, she still went to work every day!!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had just received a promotion at
work and was starting my first day on my new job. As I was walking into the
building from the extremely icy parking lot, my previous supervisor stopped me
and told me that my mother had gone into labor. This was quite a shock
considering that she was not due for another month yet. I felt like pending
fatherhood was upon me. I became a babbling, klutzy, frantic person that
neither I nor my co-workers recognized.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What do you mean she is in labor?”
I exclaimed.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Calm down, Kristin. Your Mom
called and all she said was that we needed to let you know that her water had
broke and for you to go to work and she would call when anything more
happened.” What mom hadn’t told anyone was that her water broke at work and her
boss was crazy worried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Krstin, I told you all that she
told me, “said my colleague. “You know your mother. She will let you know what
is going on when it suits her needs.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Knowing exactly what my co-worker
meant, I decided I had better go to work, considering it is not a good practice
to call in sick on your first day. I told my boss that I may have to leave,
depending on what was happening at home. They understood, which I was very
grateful for, because my mother had been working at her current job for the
past seven years and everyone knew her.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I called my sister, Heidi, at
approximately noon to find out what the status on the baby’s arrival was
currently. “Hi, Heidi. How is mom?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“She is fine. She is at Meijer
right now. Why?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why?! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because she is in labor, that is why!!”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Heidi then told me the most amazing
thing I’ve ever heard. “That’s not even the worst of it, Kristin. This morning
at 7 a.m. she called Richard and told him that her water had broken. Richard
started freaking out and wanted to call the doctor. She told him she had some
things to do because Christmas wasn’t going to not come just because she was
having a kid.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What did she mean by that?” I
asked.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“She meant that she needed to get
some last minute Christmas gifts and then, she needed to finish the grocery
shopping for Christmas dinner.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“She IS nuts, isn’t she?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That’s not even the worst of it,”
said Heidi. “I asked her how she thought she was going to get around with
having contractions and all, and she said, “No problem, you’re going to help
me.’ Kristin, Mom made me help her get ready and drive her to the mall.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I started laughing hysterically.
“You mean, Mom was walking around the mall having contractions?!”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Stop laughing at me!! She was so
embarrassing. We would walk about 20 feet and then, she would have to stop so
she could ‘do her breathing.’ People kept coming up to us and asking if there
was anything they could do to help. I was mortified!” </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I feel so bad for you, Heidi. How
long were you at the mall?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Thank God, we were only there for
about an hour and a half. Then, she wanted to go to Meijer, but I told her she
better have Richard go with her. Richard came to the mall to pick her up and he
found her sitting inside the doors, on the floor, breathing deeply.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, I have to go back to work,
but let me know if anything happens.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I ended up working a full day. No
one ever called me to tell me how my mom was doing. At 5:30 p.m., as I was
getting home, the phone began ringing. I grabbed the phone and it was my
mother, acting very calm, almost too calm.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hi, honey. How was your first day
at work?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why aren’t you at the hospital yet?” I
yelled.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother very calmly said, “I’ve
had two other kids and this one is not going to mess up my Christmas schedule
any more than he already has. I had shopping to do and now, it is done. I was
calling to let you know I am on my way to the hospital right now.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother and stepfather arrived at
the hospital around 6 p.m. My best friend, Amy and I arrived shortly thereafter.
My mom acted as if she was there for some allergy shots. This was not a big
deal to her…just another birth, kind of at an inconvenient time and day.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We waited, talked and visited with
my mom for about three and a half hours. Then, Amy and I decided to go to the
cafeteria to get some food. As we were walking down the starkly lit hallway in
the basement, a wonderful location for a cafeteria, we were discussing the
wonder of my mother at 39 giving birth. We were giggling about all the things I
could buy for him and do with him, when all of a sudden, a huge figure jumped
out in front of us. It was my stepfather, Richard, all out of breath and
looking extremely frantic.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Your mother....wants....you to
come...upstairs....right now.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why? Is something wrong?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No. You know how we had decided
that it would just be us in the delivery room? Well, your mother has decided
just now that it would be a wonderful experience for you to see your brother’s
birth.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Wow! OK, let’s go!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Amy said she would wait in the
waiting room, but Richard, who is not a very outgoing fellow, told her to come
along also. He said one more person in the room at this point wasn’t going to
make much of a difference and besides, Amy was planning to be a nurse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We all followed Richard into the
delivery room, where, just as we walked in, I saw my brother’s head emerging
from my mother’s body. I gasped.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh my God! Oh my God! OH!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Shut up, Kristin, I’m trying to
concentrate,” came my mother’s response to my wonder and awe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother pushed for about 10
minutes and at 10:08 p.m. my baby brother, weighing 4 lbs. 15 oz., was born on
December 22, 1989. He was very little. In fact, he was too little to take home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother came home on the 23<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup>
in the late afternoon. It was kind of weird talking about Alex and not having
him there to hold or coo over. We had a surprise on Christmas Eve, though. Mom
had gone to the hospital to see Alex and the doctor said he had gained enough
ground to go home. Imagine our surprise when my mom walked into the house
carrying Alex in her arms. We all started crying and hugging and thanking God
for letting us all be together on this special holiday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, as I sit here looking around at
my whole family, I have to thank my brother. Before Alex, we were a family, but
we didn’t have cohesion. My mom, sister and I were a family and Richard was an
addition that Heidi and I could have done without.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After Alex, however, is a whole different
story. He has allowed our family to become a unit. He is my half brother biologically,
but emotionally, he is my whole brother: heart and soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although he is only 10 as I write this and my
little brother, he is also my friend, confidante and spiritual advisor. I don’t
even think he knows how pivotal he has been to our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe someone should tell him.</span></div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-46858059164067180362013-10-12T09:31:00.002-07:002013-10-12T09:31:36.490-07:00A letter from one of my sons...a birthday present extraordinaire!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am blessed with three adult children and six grandkids. In addition, I have several other "children" who call me, on the good days, either "mom or grandma." It has surprised me to no end how much I value and treasure these familial relationships. Blood is thicker than water. The ties that bind strongest are those built out of love, compassion, helpfulness, shared bonds and shared successes. Possibly tied more tightly to our hearts are those failures/struggles/problems that we have encountered and then, end up sharing together. Hopefully, we grow stronger together and individually as a result of having weathered them with loved ones.<br />
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Today, I received the following birthday letter from a young man that I worked with very closely. He wasn't ready to work at my pace and with my fervor. I tried to counsel him, tried to train and retrain and then, one day, I terminated his employment. He was a special, bright young man and I struggled over severing our work relationship. I needed someone to pick up the slack and help us achieve our goals and so, I hired someone else.<br />
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When some are terminated, they blow the experience off as x's problem, not mine. I mentioned this person was bright. He talked with me about the termination. We discussed his plans, kept in touch and I assured him that I knew he had what it takes to be successful. He is doing very well...because he listened, he learned, he questioned and he grew. Not because of me, but because of him and his drive. <br />
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We have stayed in touch, and like several other people whose lives have touched mine in a special way...we have bridged the distances between us by communicating and caring. Oh, and might I mention that like two other of my "sons" his first language is NOT English!<br />
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This son sent me the following on my 63rd birthday:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: medium;">Dear Mom,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: medium;">Almost seven years ago, a young man met one woman that gave him the opportunity to learn many lessons, during that process painful in some moments the bond, the respect and love allow us to grow up. Now the mother and the child are physically apart but joined with the joy and the hope to share more adventures and more lessons.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: garamond, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: garamond, serif; font-size: medium;">All that I want to say is that you are one of my favorites persons ever. A great mentor, an outstanding mom and a treasured friend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: garamond, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: garamond, serif; font-size: medium;">Today many people celebrate your birthday. Today I am grateful with God for letting me know the marvelous person that you are.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: garamond, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: garamond, serif; font-size: medium;">I LOVE U MOM AND REMEMBER THE WORLD IS YOURS HAVE FUN WITH IT!!!!!!!!! </span></div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-85988313357984851442013-09-29T18:31:00.003-07:002013-09-29T18:31:41.299-07:00Celtic Highlights<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IbgHkkYoGtM/UkjRveJA5nI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/_UqE1udjm0o/s1600/Celtic+Tour+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black;">One of the neatest places we visited was Trim Castle.</span><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IbgHkkYoGtM/UkjRveJA5nI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/_UqE1udjm0o/s320/Celtic+Tour+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s6eN1Ld3VF4/UkjRvwe5RzI/AAAAAAAAB5c/LSo1XihJhm0/s1600/Celtic+Tour+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s6eN1Ld3VF4/UkjRvwe5RzI/AAAAAAAAB5c/LSo1XihJhm0/s320/Celtic+Tour+006.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
These ruins dated back to the 12th Century and apparently, the movie Braveheart was filmed here. The name, Trim, came from the Gaelic, Baila Atha Traim, meaning "The place or crossing of the elder tree.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UnABB4hYuzk/UkjR0QwoTqI/AAAAAAAAB50/dwczVJ54Yrw/s1600/Celtic+Tour+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UnABB4hYuzk/UkjR0QwoTqI/AAAAAAAAB50/dwczVJ54Yrw/s1600/Celtic+Tour+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UnABB4hYuzk/UkjR0QwoTqI/AAAAAAAAB50/dwczVJ54Yrw/s320/Celtic+Tour+008.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UnABB4hYuzk/UkjR0QwoTqI/AAAAAAAAB50/dwczVJ54Yrw/s1600/Celtic+Tour+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span> </a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UnABB4hYuzk/UkjR0QwoTqI/AAAAAAAAB50/dwczVJ54Yrw/s1600/Celtic+Tour+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;">Amazing to walk around these ruins and we tried to imagine what life must have been like way back when.</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-38cASOu-NWg/UkjRz5RXS3I/AAAAAAAAB5w/qLB-hKvFX_Y/s1600/Celtic+Tour+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-38cASOu-NWg/UkjRz5RXS3I/AAAAAAAAB5w/qLB-hKvFX_Y/s320/Celtic+Tour+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h4mcZTCX6wA/UkjR0t9_pGI/AAAAAAAAB54/UNF7sCCcGXs/s1600/Celtic+Tour+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h4mcZTCX6wA/UkjR0t9_pGI/AAAAAAAAB54/UNF7sCCcGXs/s320/Celtic+Tour+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The castle wasn't open when we arrived so we weren't able to get much history or detail. One could look into the ruins and imagine that x building or space was where storage occurred, or where the weapons were kept.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PKEZGaBDcvQ/UkjRwM9B-OI/AAAAAAAAB5o/ziYcurlBNyA/s1600/Celtic+Tour+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PKEZGaBDcvQ/UkjRwM9B-OI/AAAAAAAAB5o/ziYcurlBNyA/s320/Celtic+Tour+007.JPG" width="240" /></a> This carved piece of oak is called, "A Hunger for Knowledge." Beautifully aged piece of art.</div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-36038633989888035762013-09-29T14:43:00.000-07:002013-09-29T14:43:36.254-07:00Irish Folk Museum<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was suggested that Judy and I hit the Folk Museum to see what it had been like to live in Ireland a hundred years ago. The facility reminded me of Greenfield Village but there weren't living exhibits throughout the several acre grounds. We saw this sow...the biggest pig I have ever seen and she had several piglets in the stall next to her. One of the workers said this species of pig is the largest...had to be over 400 pounds.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gEvwd7yPpc/UkibtesTNzI/AAAAAAAAB44/5a0eEoPxbVI/s1600/Transport+and+Folk+Museum+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gEvwd7yPpc/UkibtesTNzI/AAAAAAAAB44/5a0eEoPxbVI/s320/Transport+and+Folk+Museum+048.JPG" width="320" /></a> You have seen my photo with the mummer's head dress on but this guy below was busily making baskets and a horse head. Very informative and interesting. The young man hammering steel was making a pitchfork...he had an apprentice who must have been 12 years old. Kid didn't want his photo taken! Hmmm...not sure how these photos got stacked on top of each other, but they are NOT separating!</div>
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Enjoyed the crofter's cottages. They were small and heated by peat moss bricks that make the most delightful smell. Our new friend, Frances, burned these in her home the night we went over to share hors d'oeuvres and wine with her. Wish we had these bricks here.</div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-52036428683390719022013-09-11T12:05:00.001-07:002013-09-11T12:05:46.806-07:00The Titanic Experience<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lots of controversy around the Titanic Experience, a huge several floor building that both celebrates and memorializes the Titanic. Hard to imagine celebrating such a disaster; yet, this ship was innovative. That over 1500 people died when it sank after hitting an iceberg means a huge disaster confronting the country and the shipyard, Harland and Wolff which built her. She launched in 1911 but wasn't completely outfitted until 1912. Days after her first occupied launch, she was on the bottom of the ocean. No one was near to help save the occupants. Many did survive but the disaster is still a source of commentary and revulsion.<br />
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Some say that one reason the Titanic went down is that when she was launched on May 31, 1911, no prayers were said. Those prayers were the norm and it is possible that the Gods were NOT amused. She was totally outfitted by March of 1912 and it was only days after she left the dock with passengers that she hit an iceberg. The distress SOS calls from the ship were horrible to see. <br />
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Many think that those who died were of the "lower classes." That isn't true...more men died than women and children. They were loaded onto boats first...a greater percentage of women and children survived. And several men are thought to be heroes for helping folks into boats...several giving up their slot so that those who were infirm could survive.<br />
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The museum is very advanced and one literally can see, feel and smell the work going on inside the ship as it works. We went into the bowels of the boat through several floors while riding in a cart.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j-EmbBfnZhg/UjC8TnQb-tI/AAAAAAAAB4k/-OLVGKkMTtQ/s1600/Transport+and+Folk+Museum+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j-EmbBfnZhg/UjC8TnQb-tI/AAAAAAAAB4k/-OLVGKkMTtQ/s1600/Transport+and+Folk+Museum+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;">For my friend, Peggy Mangan and her husband, John. Mary Mangan from County Mayo, in Carrokehine, in Addergoode Parish died. There is a company/governmental organization called PRONI which allows anyone with a photo ID to access the records of any and all Irish so that one's roots may be found. John was adopted but to track relatives of his adoptive family may be easier using this organization.</span></a><br />
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We took a ride through the various levels of the ship. We could see, feel and hear the ship builders creating the ship and then, after the launch, we could see men working beneath the staterooms on the ship.<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-61897111993408742802013-09-10T13:53:00.000-07:002013-09-10T13:53:15.294-07:00Travelling with a relatively new friend means lots and lots of laughs....fortunately!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-020Kz5MsYms/Ui-DG1IpAtI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/Op6bGTK-5CQ/s1600/Giant's+Causeway+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-020Kz5MsYms/Ui-DG1IpAtI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/Op6bGTK-5CQ/s320/Giant's+Causeway+027.JPG" width="320" /></a>Judy and I are relatively new friends...met her when we "moved" to Caseville and we hit it off and somehow, we decided to come to Ireland, a place Judy had never visited. I came here 11 years ago with Heidi but we stayed south of Dublin. This trip, we decided that we would definitely hit the Dublin area but I wanted to go to Northern Ireland...an area that we were told was unsafe 11 years ago. </div>
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Travelling with someone you know, but not well, could be a bit risky. So far, we have had a ball. Both of us are comfy laughing at ourselves and each other....and we are doing a lot of both.</div>
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Each of us have assigned responsibilities...she is the navigator and I am the driver. She reminds me often to "keep left" so I don't pull into OUR driving lane by accident. I remind her that she has to put the key to our front door in, right side up. For some reason, she likes to put them in upside down. And, it just won't work for Judy to try to show me a map to indicate where next we might stop WHILE I am trying to focus on driving in the wrong side of the car and on the wrong side of the road. </div>
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I am not the best at backing cars up and one MUST be an expert here. I literally start every morning trying to back my car across two lanes of traffic to get to the side I must leave our B&B from. Judy is a trooper...she goes out into the road and waves me around and across the seriously narrow and busy road. She hasn't groused once at me...even when I get snarky with her like I did today at the Titanic Experience. She wanted me to back out in one direction and I chose to go another,...amazing how easily we center our cars. Try driving on another side of the car and another side of the road. When you get that under control, add roundabouts, high speed, small cars, rain, and blind spots that we just don't have in these places. </div>
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Judy is short and has a small stride....she is perpetually six paces behind me. I stop periodically to let her catch up. Kinda like travelling with a vertically challenged person. Then, there are issues with a lack of places to hit the bathroom. Public facilities in the guise of parks is wonderful. One might encounter picnic tables...but NO potty and NO garbage cans. Unusual. I am here to tell you that when one is laughing when walking briskly in the cool night, with no potty around....something happens!! Laughing loudly!</div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-55501537745941363602013-09-10T00:58:00.000-07:002013-09-10T00:58:17.271-07:00Bangor, Northern Ireland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Judy and I figure that the Bangor residents knew that we were arriving and set up this sign just down the road from our B&B! </div>
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After breakfast this morning, Judy and I were discussing that our stay has been enhanced so much by the people we have met here. The people have made this trip more wonderful than the experience of seeing the sights, which are each unspeakably historic and amazing. I mentioned earlier that we met Frances Burscough our first day here in Bangor. She went out of her way to let us follow her to our B&B. We had been unable to find our street. Later, she saw us on the street and stopped to chat a moment and that happened a couple more times. Last night, because we knew where Frances lived, but still didn't have her last name, I stopped and knocked on her door. I promised I was NOT a stalker but Judy and I discussed that we should find out if she was on Facebook. If so, we would like to keep in touch...she is our kind of people! Not only did we get her last name and contact info...we are going back to continue getting to know her...with wine in hand, of course! Come to find out...she is a freelance journalist and works with the Belfast Telegraph. A friendship has begun. Makes me smile!<br />
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Another interesting facet of this trip is the fact that we are in an English speaking country. Yet, we often have to ask for definitions. This morning, we were told, "The snib might be on the door because of the dogs. A snib? That is a lock. And it could be a "wee" snib. We were told yesterday on a bus that the Irish use "wee" more than "oui" is used in Paris." There is a wee minute, a wee bit, a wee piece, etc. One also might want to order some "champ" along with one's sausage. Champ? That would be potatoes. <br />
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This board sailor was out on the water as we exited Frances' home last night. Huge winds.<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-14728164476552637332013-09-07T12:27:00.001-07:002013-09-07T12:27:38.093-07:00Generosity, helpfulness and willingness to brea the rules....found daily in Ireland.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When we arrived at the Best Western, Skylon in Dublin, we were several hours too early for our check in. Judy and I were greeted by a young lady named Aoife, pronounced, "E fa." We allowed as how we were hours early but we wanted to either get an early check in OR store our suitcases until check in time. She quickly indicated she would check to see if we could get into a room early so we could take a nap. We had travelled all night and were exhausted. Aoife got us a quiet room and we were not charged one extra cent despite our being five hours early for check in.<br />
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Later that day, she helped us with bus information and helped us navigate the city through specific maps, directions and information about what to do, where and when. At check out this morning, Aoife was there and we were trying to get directions to our rental car company. She and the manager gave us the info and thought it made sense for us to leave our bags there because we would have to travel by the hotel on our way to Bangor. She was right...everything worked out well and when we arrived back she was tickled that we had made it and not got lost, nor had we had an accident. YUP, customer service is expected but how often do we not give or receive it? <br />
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We have stopped many a person on the street asking for directions to x,y and z and without exception have been given great directions, warmly and with a generous dollop of brogue, accent and flavor. Me: Do you know where the bus stop is going into the city center? Him: Hmmm....a wee bit over there, no? He was pointing up the street and waving us on in the opposite direction. <br />
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When we arrived in Bangor, we had to stop to ask where Donaghadee Street was. We couldn't Map Quest the address while in Dublin. At the grocery store, an elderly man, with no teeth began giving us detailed, incoherent directions. A 35ish woman said she was going in that direction if we wanted to follow her. We did that and she pulled over and waved us on. Later that day, she saw us walking along the beach and she pulled over to ask how long we were staying in her town and told us where she lives. We had been by there and knew her house due to the two barking dogs. She introduced herself as Frances. Later that day, she again pulled over and asked how we were doing? Told her we had been out exploring and we loved her town. Tomorrow, we are going to knock on her door with a bottle of wine...unless we run across her somewhere. She didn't have to pull over and chat with us...but she did. We are being welcomed over and over.<br />
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Bought two bottles of wine (yup, that kinda day) and the best chat with the clerks in the wine store. The young man has been to several states in the USA, including Ohio, NY, Texas and Colorado. We discussed with the older woman that we had never seen Weight Watchers wine. She said it wasn't bad but we indicated we would go with the "fat wine" for tonight. Left laughing. <br />
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Are we Americans that welcoming and generous? I sadly don't think so. I plan to go out of my way to welcome strangers when I can.</div>
Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-79253318833665240532013-09-07T12:11:00.001-07:002013-09-07T12:48:15.792-07:00Thoughts from Northern Ireland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hmmm...not sure why the font has hopped to larger size but hang in with me. We are in Bangor, Northern Ireland and while still Ireland, things are different here. For example, instead of kilometers per hour, which is used in the south of the country (Dublin areas), they use miles per hour. Now, the odometer only has kilometers per hour; so I have NO clue how fast I should be going. Also, in Dublin and the south they use Euros and here, we use pounds, or British Sterling. Both monetary systems are light on bills and heavy on coins....all sizes and all colors.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Parking is a serious issue for my driving. Everything is parallel parking and cars are squeezed in tightly everywhere. What makes the driving horrid is HOW drivers park. They can and do park outside of the marked areas along the street...so if a car is halfway into your lane and parked, you must swerve into oncoming traffic to go around the parked vehicle. This means you are literally driving into oncoming traffic. And, of course, that driver is also swerving towards you because there are parked cars on his/her side also. There is one lane (in good places) for vehicles travelling in both directions. Navigation is scary. </span><br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-9231184315912217202013-09-05T13:32:00.000-07:002013-09-05T13:32:07.380-07:00Dublin, Ireland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Judy Valentine and I made the decision to come to Ireland...a place she wanted to visit and one that I had explored a bit with Heidi, the year she turned 30. We left Detroit yesterday around 3:00 p.m. and flew to Dublin. We weren't able to sleep on the plane but got to town around 8:30 a.m. We decided to go directly to the hotel and see if we could get an early check-in or at least...store our bags til later in the afternoon. The young lady who waited on us indicated there would be no problem. 15 minutes after arriving at the Skylon Best Western, we had a room key and were getting ready to take a nap. Nap, we did. Got up at 11:00 a.m. and headed out to explore the city. We went to The Four Courts above, maneuvered through the throngs of people on the streets and navigated the car traffic going the wrong way down the streets. We look right for oncoming traffic..here, one looks left. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zstEHEtBLEI/UijgiQxnfmI/AAAAAAAAB1w/xz1raTY3g8o/s1600/Dublin,+Ireland+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zstEHEtBLEI/UijgiQxnfmI/AAAAAAAAB1w/xz1raTY3g8o/s1600/Dublin,+Ireland+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;">One of our first observations was that there is an awful lot of cigarette smoking going on here...not as much though as we saw in Canada.</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDU_TDk6cmw/Uijilj_dydI/AAAAAAAAB18/MjWTLAE32iQ/s1600/Dublin,+Ireland+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDU_TDk6cmw/Uijilj_dydI/AAAAAAAAB18/MjWTLAE32iQ/s320/Dublin,+Ireland+006.JPG" width="240" /></a>The architecture here is wonderfully old and well persevered. Around every corner is a wonderful example of stonework. Apparently, when Heidi and I were here, we rented a car at the airport and went south. This city, I have never experienced and I am loving it. Lots of diversity and am hearing diverse languages being spoken. Many inter-racial couples around also. </div>
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Today was a day of walking and exploring...we walked down the River Liffey and across the bridges. Tomorrow, we plan to take the "hop on and hop off" bus to see many of the historical sites that we just walked by this afternoon.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jdsbnzOigaY/UijivzUxBCI/AAAAAAAAB2E/AI8Vwx91tyY/s1600/Dublin,+Ireland+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jdsbnzOigaY/UijivzUxBCI/AAAAAAAAB2E/AI8Vwx91tyY/s1600/Dublin,+Ireland+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;">Our room is small but very clean. When we arrived we noticed this closet in the bathroom and figured it was a laundry shoot or something. Come to find out, the handle on the door is how one flushes the toilet! </span></a><br />
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Lunch was a granola bar and some water while walking around the city. We managed to take two buses and find our way back to the hotel. Decided to eat at the hotel restaurant and I wanted to hit a pub to hear some live music. However, live music begins around 9:30 or 10:00 p.m. and we are totally wiped out tonight. Maybe tomorrow. We both ate, "bangers and mash" for dinner. This is a traditional dish with sausage, mashed potatoes and caramelized onions. Really enjoyed this, although I didn't eat the mashed potatoes. <br />
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Went into a grocery store to see what different was on the shelves. Produce is very expensive...rather like in Alaska. They had a "red cheddar cheese" that I might buy to bring home. <br />
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Tomorrow, we are meeting the on-off bus at "half eight." How 8:30 is described here. Interesting trying to navigate the English language with words and phrases we just don't use. <br />
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As we walked around the city, we saw some interesting and some outrageously talented graffiti artists' work. Had to love this one, which stated, "This ain't NO normal advertising" pasted on a building beyond its prime. </div>
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Today was rather warm for this time of year here. We were wearing long pants and a light jacket but some of the women were wearing next to nothing. Sleeveless dresses that barely covered their butts seemed to be the norm. Saw one young lady whose chest was exposed down to the nipples. She was happily sprinting along with her man friend at a rapid rate. You can tell the local city folks from us tourists...they are speed walking and on a mission. We are ambling along...taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the city. </div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-19653867369685435632013-08-07T12:34:00.000-07:002013-08-07T12:37:45.182-07:00Juneau, the city<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We were able to spend parts of several days in downtown Juneau and had lots of fun checking out the souvenir shops and local businesses. Ate at a crab shack one day and crab cakes. While I enjoy Richard's version of crab cakes, Tracy's, not much more than a cooking shack, had the best dipping sauce ever. Homemade and they don't sell it and wouldn't tell me the recipe. YUM! Ate at another restaurant with Annie and David and The Twisted Fish had great food. Halibut tacos for me.<br />
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Richard and I stopped at The Red Dog Saloon, above, one afternoon for a drink. It is quite the hotspot and has a long history. The place was filled mostly with cruise line folks. It has sawdust covered floors and this sign says quite a bit about their philosophy.<br />
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Our service was very good but many cruise ship patrons were cranky. The saloon had live music and the place was decorated with many a wild animal or animal part.<br />
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The "Danger, Watch for Falling Snow" sign was seen at various places, including the local Auck Bay post office. Means something come winter, but made me smile on a 75 degree sunny day.<br />
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One thing I didn't learn when I was cruising on my sister's cruises, when she was a nurse on Norwegian Cruise Lines, was that these companies buy up many of the local stores. Folks disembark from the cruise ships, buy "local" merchandise and the money goes back into the hands of the cruise lines and not into the local economy. Juneau had lots of signs in stores that were locally owned or run by the Native Arts Council. I will look for this when out and about in port cities.</div>
Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-5285604402566037922013-08-03T10:05:00.000-07:002013-08-03T10:05:49.858-07:00Mt. Roberts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yesterday was Alex's day off, so we ended up taking a tram up to the mid-point of Mt. Roberts. On our way up we saw these two huge bald eagles sitting and watching us pass by. Nature at its best! At the tram drop off point there is a nature center and the necessary bar/restaurant and trail heads. We hiked a bit...maybe a mile but that mile was straight up the side of the mountain and while the trail was dry (others have not been) it was grueling.<br />
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Saw this totem carved into a tree as we hiked the trail. A lovely surprise.<br />
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This raptor was caged and although he appears small, he easily could carry off small cats and dogs. Apparently, his relative, the bald eagle, often snags a small cat or dog. Annie and David have seen them in the eagle nests by their home. This guy could carry off Chica and she weighs 20+ pounds!<br />
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After we hiked straight up Mt. Roberts for awhile, we came to this cross placed in honor of a priest who was instrumental in Juneau's past. Never made it to the top of the mountain...turned around after this momentary rest and photo. A young lady, Carty, joined us for the tram and hike....she is a friend of Alex's and she also is a UAS student and employee. Enjoyed meeting several of his friends.<br />
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Below is a view from the tram looking down on Juneau. Cruise ship coming into port.<br />
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628590788258372654.post-39233134491586027882013-08-03T09:40:00.003-07:002013-08-03T09:40:39.926-07:00Hiking: Peterson Trail and Mt. Roberts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Despite my having back issues and a cranky knee these past couple of weeks, we have been able to do some trails and see some wonderfully different plants. Many of the trails here are along bluffs or straight up the mountains. The paths vary in the quality of their upkeep. Apparently, most of the trails are maintained through the use of volunteers. <br />
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David and Annie took us on a hike on Peterson's Trail, one of Alex's favorites. At the end of this trail is a cabin one can rent. We didn't to the whole trail...just a couple of miles of it because we had to go back into town to pick up Alex.<br />
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Here is a photo of Annie and Richard on the Peterson Trail.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oEaJyF0CrDo/Uf0wF2k4MBI/AAAAAAAABzY/figOhQtjLLo/s1600/Peterson+Trail+and+Tram+trip...Mt+Roberts+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oEaJyF0CrDo/Uf0wF2k4MBI/AAAAAAAABzY/figOhQtjLLo/s320/Peterson+Trail+and+Tram+trip...Mt+Roberts+006.JPG" width="320" /></a>While we were trekking along, we came across a whole field of these white fluffy plants...Alaskan cotton! Not like that grown down south but very pretty.</div>
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This is a typical trail...rocks strewn all around with devil's club, spiky plants which you do not want to trip or fall in. There is no way to look up while walking on these trails. Too much to slip upon, slide across or trip over. What is quite fun on these trails is that it is deep in the woods and fairly dark and cool. So, sunglasses come off and so do the jackets. Within 10-15 minutes you find yourself on a bluff and outside of the forest and you reverse the clothing process. Lots of on and off while hiking.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RqeH9Sy2bZk/Uf0wuOntXAI/AAAAAAAABzw/_9c7WRjQjZs/s1600/Peterson+Trail+and+Tram+trip...Mt+Roberts+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RqeH9Sy2bZk/Uf0wuOntXAI/AAAAAAAABzw/_9c7WRjQjZs/s320/Peterson+Trail+and+Tram+trip...Mt+Roberts+007.JPG" width="240" /> <span style="color: black;">The dark side of the forest. We have been here almost two weeks now and had rain only one day. This is highly unusual...nice for us but not for the rain forest, the plants and the animals.</span></a></div>
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Maitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07690286505044659718noreply@blogger.com0