Five-minute free writes, Day 31 - "Enjoy"

So today is the final day of the month-long program of free writes - "enjoy" is the last word on the prompt list.  I'm thinking this is no accident.  I'm betting that most of the folks participating will talk about how much they enjoy writing.

Truly, this has been a great experience for me.  It really gets me back to the regular rhythm of writing; I feel guilty if I miss a day (and I had one day where I had to post three different pieces - it drove me to distraction).

I do enjoy writing.  This kind of thing is a little too contemplating-the-navel for me - I'm not sure anyone really cares how I feel about little things (or even big things).  But it's been fun to try to come up with maybe an unexpected take on a word.  And frankly, the words haven't been very challenging.

SO - I think I will continue.  But for my writing prompts, I'm going to get down that big old-fashioned dictionary that I still have and just let it fall open to any old page, and I'm going to write about the first word that catches my eye.  I'm still limit the piece to five minutes.  I like having to get it down and get it published and not worry about editing.  Totally out of my comfort zone.

Enjoy!

Five-minute free writes, Day 30 - "Memory"

In the lifelong learning program that I love, I have tried at least three times to participate in language classes - once in traveler's French, once in traveler's Italian, and once in beginning Spanish.  Since I had both French and Italian in college, and I had spent some time in Italy long, long ago , I found that the rules of pronunciation came back to me pretty quickly, and so did some of the vocabulary.

But the Spanish - oh, no.  I could not remember a vocabulary word from the beginning of the class until the end. Granted, the class lasted two hours, with a tiny bit of socializing right in the middle over the break - but still. Not one bit of memory was available.

I thought this was odd until I researched this phenomenon a bit and discovered that, sure enough, learning a new language at an old age is pretty tough. Seems as though some of those imprinting mechanisms just aren't working much any longer.

Even more fascinating was the interference that my youthful French and Italian ran all through the Spanish class.  Those tongue muscles just did not want to unlearn what they had been taught.  Thank goodness that "si" is the same in at least two of those languages!

And of course there are other opportunities to mourn the deterioration of memory.  Trying to remember how to play the piano ....

Five-minute free writes, Day 29 - "Practice"

I'm taking a class with my lifelong learning group - Piano 2.  I took Piano 1 last spring, six weeks of basically learning what the notes are, how to hold my hands, refreshing my knowledge of rhythm and beat, etc. We hardly got past the C chord - not even close to the black keys.

So now I'm doing Piano 2.  This class picked up right where the last one left off, and like any kind of skill, the lessons become more complicated and in need of more brain power.  PLUS - a secret ingredient: practice.

I purchased a little electronic keyboard and I always have great intentions. I don't like the touch - it's nowhere near what a real piano feels like. There are no pedals, which is a little disconcerting.  But it's there, it's in a back room where I can practice undisturbed, and it's actually fun.  There's just one problem, which is pretty much what I encounter daily: I have to carve out the time.

So why practice?  In our group, we learn for the joy of it, and there's no homework and certainly no grades.  In the class, we are mostly plugged into headphones, so the teacher cannot tell when we are making mistakes.  And unlike Mrs. Bewley, my piano teacher from about 60 years ago, the current teacher is full of encouragement and never scolds.

So why practice?  I never did for those lessons 60 years ago.  But this time around, I want it to stick.  I want to remember how to read music.  I want to be able to play a little. And I have to admit, it's even kind of fun.  I wish Mrs. Bewley were still alive; I would love to tell her what I'm doing.

Five-minute free writes, Day 28 - "Test"

This word, "test," brought me up a bit short today. It occurred to me that it's been a long, long time since I have had to take an actual test, with the expectation of a grade and some sort of credit for passing that had some sort of value to me.

I'm trying to remember.  It was probably my last graduate course, way back in the early 1970s (yes, the last century).

I've taken a number of trainings since then, but as the point of training is to learn how to do something specific, there aren't really any tests.  One just works through the online stuff at one's own pace, gets to the end, hits SUBMIT, and Bob's your uncle.  Then, with a brave face and a quaking heart, one ventures forth to offer whatever it is to the world.

This is not like taking a test.  I'm not sure exactly how I would even approach an actual test with an actual grade in the offing. I'm pretty sure I would be okay with studying beforehand, but my mind isn't as nimble as it once was.  Could I finish in the allotted time? Would I waste time evaluating exactly how stupid the questions were? Would I be correcting the grammar in the multiple choice items? Probably.

Now that I think about it, it might be fun.  After all, what kind of test would have any power over me at this point anyway?  I'm all about that grammar correction. So bring it.

Five-minute free writes, Day 27 - "Better"

"Better" is an interesting word because of its position in a cascade of descriptors.  In other words, it sits squarely between "good" and "best."

I wonder when "good" became an adjective that almost means "bad"? It's a lowly little adjective, content to muddle along in its day-to-day business, conscientiously doing its job and expecting little. I'm thinking about the ways we value achievement.  When did we stop praising "good"?

We say to our toddlers when they correctly identify a color or a number, "good job!"  And it is a good job; the concepts of colors and numbers must explode in the tiny brains of almost-two-year-olds like the Theory of Relativity. We don't say, "But can you do better?  Don't you want to be the best?"

No, that becomes part of life when report cards enter the picture.  Or when youth sports takes over the family's life. Or when the choice of college becomes a life-or-death issue.

I wish we could relax. I want someone to tell me I did a good job, and I promise to be content with that.

Five-minute free writes, Day 26 - "Accept"

Invitations.  I love my friends, both long-time and recent, and I completely understand their compulsion to plan celebrations for their big life events and their need to  have a crowd with whom to celebrate.  But trust me - you really don't have to invite me.

As I age, I discover that I am more and more disinclined to socialize.  It's not the people, it's the effort.  So I scrutinize every invitation I receive to celebrate, to support, to join in the fun. Should I accept?  I know for a fact that when the time comes to actually attend an event I will absolutely NOT want to go. Just getting out of my lazy retirement clothes and into something presentable (and old and not fashionable and decidedly not comfortable) in more work than it's worth.

So I guess it's a good thing that acceptance of invitations is something one must do fairly far in advance.  What might sound like a good idea at the time of the RSVP becomes a pretty bad idea - but that acceptance is hanging out there.  I am not willing to go back on that kind of promise - at least not yet.  I'm pretty sure the day will come where I just don't accept.  Sorry - nothing personal.  I still love my friends.  I'm just over the party thing.

Five-minute free writes, Day 25 - "Wait"

Here's a skill that's taken a long time to perfect (and I'm still working on it) - listen and wait.

In a conversation with my son yesterday in which he was disturbed about an issue at work and obviously feeling a little guilty for not having gone above and beyond with a situation that he actually have almost no control over, I found myself taking myself in hand and commanding myself to be quiet.  While the response to his worries seemed pretty obvious to me, it was also obvious that what he needed most was just to talk it out.

My son is an adult, approaching middle age, and pretty smart.  In fact, he's probably more grounded than his co-workers and even some of his bosses - but he does struggle with being able to take a breath and think things through.  It's pretty great that he's learned to give me a call and just rant a bit while he figures out an issue.  He's found that talking it out works pretty well.

I'm impressed with this behavior, actually. He's far more personally insightful than I was at his age, so confident that I had all the answers. And he's way better than I am at self-care.  So while I have learned to wait and let him get it all out, and even then to just ask a question or two, he has learned how to survive and thrive in a world that is so often frustrating to him in it's lack of logic and just downright stupidity.

Five-minute free writes, Day 24 - "Different"

Coming from a large family with four pretty smart, engaged siblings, it always amazes me how different our memories of growing can be.  I understand that birth order plays a large role in this phenomenon, but that's not all that's at work here.

Given the pretty unusual way we grew up, basically helter-skelter, kids take care of themselves and each other, hands-off parenting, etc., etc., I suppose it's not surprising that some of us have even fabricated (or at least edited a bit) memories that I, as the oldest, know to have never happened.  These tend to lean towards the romantic side, infusing childhood with a nostalgic glow that isn't really accurate - at least from where I sit.

HOWEVER - is this a bad thing?  It irritated me immensely when I was younger and more stubborn and, yes, more pedantic. (I'm the oldest. 'Nuff said.)  It certainly doesn't hurt anything, and there's no particular value in being right about something that really doesn't matter.  So I just let it go.

If I were to be completely honest, I might even have to admit that I do a bit of this myself.  It's hard to tell what is actual memory, and what is finally viewing memories from an adult context and with the gentling, soothing balm of time.

Five-minute free writes, Day 23 - "Need"

I never hear the word "need" spoken just by itself, without context, without thinking of my younger son and the turmoil that frequently consumed our family when he was young.

Both of our children loved complicated toys with many parts, most of them very, very small. For instance, the action figure He-Man was a favorite.  He-Man was a super-hero, always the "good guy," and possessed of many, many tiny accessories.

Since neither of our boys ever seemed to break anything or lose anything, we were awash in little bitty plastic stuff.  And it never failed - the one weapon that our youngest felt was essential to whatever imaginary game he was playing was the one weapon that no one could find.  Since they never lost anything, the assumption was that this tiny plastic knife was somewhere in the depths of the toy box, under the bed, thrown in with the bath toys - somewhere.

I will never forget the wail - "Mom, I NEEEEED it."  So much tragedy. So much angst. So much drama.  So both I and my husband were desperately plowing through plastic trucks and cars, animals, other action figures, other weapons, and on and on and on - until finally the weapon in question turned up.

Satisfied, Number 2 son took the little knife, placed it in the slot in He-Man's hand, and calmly left the room.  With He-Man sitting on the floor, untouched.

Five-minute free writes, Day 22 - "Sense"

Okay, five senses, right?  Hearing, taste, touch, sight, smell.  Just checking in on those, here in my second decade of my third thirty, and this is what I find:

Hearing is terrible.  I have tinnitus in my right ear, which is sometimes louder than at other times, but omnipresent.  My husband and I are in the "What?" mode all the time.

Taste is still working.  Interestingly, I no longer have a chocolate obsession, just an over-the-top love of it. But sometimes I choose the carrot cake.

Touch is still working.  In fact, that may be the one that's working best.  Even thought I no longer have fingerprints, my fingertips still work just fine.  And that fingerprint thing in another one of those things no one tells you about when talking about aging, right up there with the hairs in your nose that turn white (and therefore visible).

Sight is a hot mess.  Recent cataract surgery has restored much of my distance vision, for which I am eternally grateful.  I can once again drive at night.  But the eyes still burn and itch and get tired.

Smell still works, probably better than I would really like.  I do not like stuff that stinks.  Since this is tied to taste, it presents a problem for things like colonoscopy prep stuff and really gross food.

I guess overall I'm doing pretty well for an oldish lady.  But that hearing thing - I need to get that attended to.  And have I mentioned how stupid I think it is that hearing issues aren't covered under Medicare?

Five-minute free writes, Day 21 - "Person"

So this is a writer-nerd thing:  what person works best for you (or me) when you sit down to write a story?

I've taken some classes on writing, and some of them have involved memoir.  I love reading memoir (who doesn't love "Angela's Ashes" and "The Glass Castle"?), but I really, really, really have a hard time writing it.

Just putting down the dreaded first person pronoun kind of stops me in my creative tracks.  Who could possibly be interested in any piece of my life?  Even with some fairly dramatic twists and turns, it's pretty boring.

And truthfully, I'm much more into the Stephen King thing:  thing of two really odd things, and put them together. Add some goofy characters. Presto! An interesting story.

And maybe I just don't want to dredge up little poison bits of the past. They and I have made our peace - no need to open those old memory boxes and let those critters out.  Just leave them far away, behind me in the rearview mirror.

So - third person, you are my friend. I can write at a safe distance, lording it over the world I create, not stuck with a pre-determined outcome.

Actually, I don't think I could even use that "I" pronoun in a work of fiction!

Five-minute free writes, Day 20 -"Tell"

There's a term that gamblers use, describing expressions or movements that give away clues to opponents' hands in cards - it's called a "tell."

I'm fascinated by the varying degrees to which all of us can read the expressions and body language of others.  I'm not particularly good at it, although with close friends and family members whose faces I've looked at many, many times, I can sometimes figure out when I have said something hurtful or with which they deeply disagree.  When this happens, I begin to worry; how can I make amends without letting the person know that they have reacted in a way this is detectable, when they really wished to hide their feelings?  It feels almost intrusive to actually approach this directly.  So I just try to be extra warm in my response, extra apologetic, extra agreeable, hoping in this way to repair any damage I may have done.

Perhaps we should spend more time watching and listening and less time lost in our own thoughts and worries. I do keep looking for the actual key to world peace, wishing that it were a lot less complex than it appears to be.  Could this be a good starting place?

Five-minute free writes, Day 19 - "Strong"

Oh, boy, is it a pain to be known as the "strong one." I think this might be a bit of a curse that's familiar to most oldest children in large families. It's just kind of an assumption that goes with the territory.

As a teenager and a young woman, I was pretty proud of this. With the built-in confidence of youth, I accomplished things that make me quake when I remember them.  Want to have a summer job in a totally unfamiliar city and live alone for the first time ever and find your way to work in a huge city when you don't have a car? No problem.  Need to fly to Europe even though you've actually never left the eastern half of the U.S. and you're alone and you have no idea what you're doing? Sounds like an adventure.

Strength comes in many different forms, of course. The ability to problem-solve, to remain calm in a crisis, and even to say "no" when you have just reached the end of your rope - that's probably a kind of strength that many yearn for.  I'm still working on it.

Five-minute free writes, Day 18 - "Active"

When I first retired, way back in the fall of 2006, at the very young age of 59, I was delighted to have the opportunity to go to the gym every single day. In the middle of the morning. What a treat! I was finally able to attend to my physical well-being, and all the new activity did result in my becoming as fit as I had ever been - and pretty much as fit as I have ever been to this day.

I had not realized how much energy I had poured into my job for decades - actually increasing that activity as family demands decreased with the maturing of my children.  Strangely enough, that epiphany at my advanced age did happen - I am a person who is easily bored and seem to require a whole panoply of ideas and tasks to keep myself from sinking into a black hole.

I actually have wondered - am I really an ADD type of person?

Now, at 72, I am beginning to run out of gas. My active minutes, as recorded on my Fitbit, are pretty much limited to about 45 to 50 minutes per 24 hour period. My poor brain gets no relief, but the body is starting to warn me to slack off a bit. I am convinced that going to the gym every single day is definitely in my rearview mirror.  "Active," not so much. "Engaged," yep.

Five-minute free writes, Day 17 - "Consistent"

I have been pretty proud of myself, as I have managed to post one of these each day of the month - until Thursday, the 17th.  And then yesterday, the 18th.

Consistent.  That's what I try to be, with days scheduled consistently as much as possible.  But I do have to think about these little writings, and truly on the last two days I haven't had time to think.

In addition to my regularly scheduled meetings and always-emergent crises (which are really just little fires, but still need putting out), we have been under the threat of some bad weather.  So there's that.

I admit it's bothered me. I committed to this project, and I let myself down.  That is truly inconsistent with the way I normally operate.  SO - this morning, in the calm of a not-so-awful tropical weather event and a Saturday morning which has moved very slowly, I am catching up.  I am forgiving myself the temporary lack of consistency, and getting it done!

Five-minute free writes, Day 16 - "Avoid"

"Avoid" is a word I don't use often.  My tendency is to attack whatever is bothering me head-on. Over the years, there's been a certain lack of, shall we say, contemplation of the problem before this rushing in.  That impulsivity has gotten me into trouble more than once.

SO - as a little old lady, I'd like to think that I don't avoid problems, but neither do I shoot first and ask questions later.  I do try to mull things a bit more.  Interestingly, the advent of electronic communication has taught me my most valuable lessons in this regard; I have finally learned to rant and rave in and email, then delete it.

I do try to ask myself if my solution to a problem is going to have any obvious unintended consequences - that is certainly an outcome I do want to avoid. It's interesting how many possible outcomes one can think of, given a little contemplative time.  I think this feature of my aging process is actually a beneficial one.  In fact, I am going to add it to my list of "good things about getting old."

Thanks, Five-Minute Free Writes, for helping me figure this out!

Five-minute free writes, Day 15 - "Open"

Open mind.  Seems as those this phrase comes up a lot currently.  Do I have an "open mind?"  Do I need to "open my mind?"  I think most of us would claim our minds are open, but I suspect that, if they are, it's only a tiny crack.

This seems true of many of us who are aging.  Take tattoos, for instance.  Friends and relatives in my particular demographic (the young old through the old old) generally react negatively to the whole idea of tattoos, their feelings ranging from "I don't know why a young woman would disfigure herself that way" to "only thugs have tattoos" to "just think how awful that's going to look in 50 years" to "that man/woman is trying to hang onto a long-gone youth" to ... well, you get the picture.

How do I feel about tattoos?  I think I try to ignore them. I try very hard to not throw the tattoo into the mix when I form a first impression (with varying degrees of success).  The fact that my son and my daughter-in-law have tattoos may have something to do with that, not to mention many very good friends, both young and not-so-young.

I remember my mother having the same reaction when I pierced my ears for the first time - "how could you disfigure yourself like that?"  I think of that often as I'm putting in those beautiful earrings, and try to keep my mind open.

Five-minute free writes, Day 14 - "Voice"

There are some people in the world who have absolutely beautiful voices, either speaking or singing. Think James Earl Jones.  Think Terry Gross.  But most of us really cringe when forced to hear ourselves speak.  That voicemail message is pretty awful.

However, contemplating being without a voice is pretty grim. When I think of all the occasions I have to use my voice in the course of just a single day, I'm amazed.  How awful it would be to be forced to communicate in some other way, via computer or even just writing on a notepad!

Voices matter. Babies are born with the ability to express themselves primarily through their vocal cords. Even crying uses the voice mechanism.

How critical it is, therefore, to use our voices wisely.  That is, to not only take care of them, but to consider their power. Our words can inspire, can soothe, can heal; they also can cause harm and immeasurable hurt.  We can sell an item, an idea, or a message.  We must take care to be sure that we are as positive as we can be, and also be aware that we are blessed with a powerful tool that shouldn't be weaponized.

Five-minute free writes, Day 13 - "Reach"

I think I've always been a bit timid to reach beyond what I have thought to be my abilities and even my right to expect, given my pretty humble beginnings and my general on-the-job training for life.

In retirement, and to be perfectly honest, as I have aged and learned not to sweat the small stuff, my reach has expanded a bit. I like to think a little creatively (although not too much - my left-brained self urges caution always) and I absolutely feel braver than I once did.  So when I have an idea, I just float it. Sometimes it works, sometimes not.

One thing about reaching for a goal (or even the stars), a person has to learn to get over it and move on. And even work on some self-congratulation and self-forgiveness. What's that old saying about one's reach exceeding one's grasp? I think I have figured out that taking a leap is more than half the battle.

And, boy, is this post full of cliches!

Five-minute free writes, Day 12 - "First"

Being the firstborn in a large family is a mixed bag of good stuff and bad stuff.

Good stuff:  My memories are the most accurate.  I say this because of the many interesting conversations I've had with my six siblings, and the fascinating differences in our perceptions.  None of us is incorrect, exactly - we just see through different lenses.  And I have few memories that predate their births, some of them quite vivid.

Bad stuff:  I was the first, and consequently, the trial-and-error kid.  Actually, this probably isn't really bad, it just seemed like it at the time.  Lots of the ways that I am resilient today are as a result of my having to overcome a few challenges back in the day.

Bad stuff: I get the eye rolls. I think being bossy is just the natural lot of the firstborn. In that big family, I was assigned to kid duty a lot, had to fend for the whole herd a lot, and worked under a bit of pressure to make sure all was smooth in kid world. That natural leadership position that is thrust upon the oldest also makes for a pretty controlling adult.  Just sayin'.

I do realize that birth order is an accident.  I got a LOT of things the others didn't, simply because I was the first.  Best education. Trip to the NY World's Fair in 1964. And, I think, maybe a bit of a special place in the world.

Good stuff.

Five-minute free writes, Day 11 - "Deep"

Let's talk about phobias.  I know they are supposed to be merely symptoms of an underlying anxiety, dredged up from the lizard brain to give those unconscious fears an outlet.  Whatever - I definitely have one, and that is an irrational panic at the idea of deep water.

A recurring nightmare is that old driving over a bridge and plummeting over the side into the river thing. The concept of ocean cruising and the image of all that deep, deep water puts me into a cold sweat.

I completely understand the phobias of others.  I don't have a particular fear of heights, other than a healthy respect for the edges of the Grand Canyon, the Empire State Building, and Mt. Aetna (which is totally unfenced). Snakes don't bother me, as long as they stay outside and don't invade my space.  Spiders - I know they eat terrible pests like flies and mosquitoes, and they are welcome in my yard. But deep water? Surely if I were intended to venture out into the ocean or even to ride in a glass-bottomed boat over Wakulla Springs, I would have gills somewhere on my body.  Oh, no. I'll be content with river cruising where I can see the shore on each side and the cruise director assures me that if the boat sinks I can go to the top deck and the water won't rise above my knees. 

That, my friends, is a sensible water environment for this old lady.

Five-minute free writes, Day 10 - "Scared"

Okay, this prompt is a tough one for me.  I don't particularly care for the feeling of being scared.  I can still remember my first horror movie - "Them," about giant ants.  I was six years old, and watched the movie through a buttonhole on my raincoat. Mostly I didn't watch.

I think not enjoying scary things is a way of self-protection. As an almost-always optimist, I prefer to focus on the happy parts of life. I'm certainly no Pollyanna, but also am a huge advocate of mental health, and trust me, mental health is far more than simply the absence of mental illness. I can't see the value of scaring myself.

One issue does scare me, though:  I'm terrified of what is happening to our environment. Reading a headline about bird extinction is a horrible exercise - as I gaze out my kitchen window at the bird feeder that has every perch occupied, with a few little guys waiting their turn in the azaleas.

People scare me. And, as I mentioned, I really don't like being scared.

Five-minute free writes, Day 9 - "Join"

This is a total trigger word for me - "join."  I swear that when I am asked to join anything, whether it be a club, a movement, a church, even just a dinner party, my knee-jerk reaction is "yes."

This impulse has gotten me into trouble many times over my life. Yet, I do not learn.

I joined a club a few years ago (and in my defense, I had said "no" many times to the friend who kept after me about it) and I tried, I really tried, to fit in.  This group has, at first glance, the purest of missions and the kindest of members. For me, however, the whole vibe was just uncomfortable and unengaging.  These folks seemed to actually play at good works - they reminded me of friends of my mother, way back in the 1950s.  The good deed ladies, in fact.

The true passion with this club was in the minutiae of their bylaws, the real and imagined slights in their conversations with each other, the wrestling to bring their own passions to the forefront of the planned events - and on and on and on.  Lots and lots of energy was wasted. Some good things were accomplished. But frankly, I didn't even want to have lunch with most of them.

The problem with joining is un-joining.  It's not pretty.  Since many groups count their members as though they are assets, numbers to plump up reports with, they are extremely reluctant to let go.  That club still calls me .....

Five-minute free writes, Day 8 - "Gather"

As I age (and I am in my third thirty, actually more than a third of the way through it, I will remind the reader), I have to make a conscious effort to slow down and gather my thoughts.  I'm pretty busy for an old lady, with volunteer commitments, caregiving duties for both my husband and my disabled sister, and the usual issues that come up with adult children and young grandchildren. Not to mention that I really need to make a dermatology appointment ....

I digress.  Let me gather my thoughts.  I find that if I sit at my computer and simply gaze out the window into the branches of the beautiful magnolia tree that's only a few feet away, and through the branches to the sky and the trees in my neighbor's back yard, I can let my thoughts roam and scatter like so many sheep in a pasture.  Then that little border collie who lives in the front of my brain begins to work busily with her sheep and brings them towards the pen. I remember - oh, yes, let me call and make that appointment. This weird thing on my nose doesn't seem to be going away. I should get it looked at.  The border collie flops down and takes a break - another job done, all is well until the next rambling of those sheep.  Gathering, gathering, gathering.

Five-minute free writes, Day 7 - "Same"

Thinking about the word "same," and what pops into my head is kind of a hybrid word (something Americans are good at creating) - sameness.

Sameness is comforting to me.  I eat the same breakfast every day of the week (and try to duplicate it even when I'm traveling). I go to bed at approximately the same time every night and get up at approximately the same time every morning (and am extremely crabby when I don't follow this routine).  I wear the same clothes for seven days just for walking the dog, and always do laundry on Sunday. 

Boring? Not to me.  I think this type of structure works for me because, during my formative years, I felt that very little of my life had any structure at all.  Blessedly I have treated this basic insecurity in what I regard to be a healthy way (repetition, list-making) rather than an unhealthy one (anorexia, perhaps).

Luckily, my husband is quite content with this way of living, being pretty much stuck in his own sameness. We are a perfect fit! An occasional burst of spontaneity is good for us, but we're both much more comfortable slipping back into our routines. This lifestyle is also very useful as we age; we don't have to remember much!

Five-minute free writes - Day 6, "Notice"

I work with a local nonprofit, and like all little nonprofits everywhere, there's never enough money.

We proudly occupied a very small office space in January of 2019, the first actual physical location we have had since, long ago, free space vanished.  We've worked very hard at fundraising to establish a reliable enough donor stream to squeeze out a very few dollars for this space, and we love the building we are in and the other service groups who are our neighbors.

But now, we must give notice.  We are in need of a bit more space, and our landlord needs our little office.  We have become accustomed to having a bit of room to call our own: a place for our printed materials, a private room with a door where we may have confidential interviews with prospective volunteers; a central hub around which our all-volunteer group can revolve; and, very special, a large conference space where our board can meet monthly.

So - we venture out into the world of local rentals, searching for an affordable home with enough room for all the many years' worth of stuff that has lived in board members' closets and garages.  This time we are going to be a bit bolder.  This time we hope to find some permanence.  This time we want to have all of our records, materials, signs, equipment, and people in one spot.

Five-minute free writes, Day 5 - "Other"

Wow, is this the Word of the Year in America! It seems as though anyone who doesn't align with my way of thinking is instantly "the other."

I blame this on our country's obsession with sports. Combined with the idea of American exceptionalism, we have become do-or-die defenders of our team. As they were growing up, my sons became so fixated on our local university football team that they actually had to take to their beds at every loss.  My younger son was so deliriously happy at the team's first national championship win that he had to remind himself upon awakening the day after the game that it wasn't all just a fabulous dream.

It's just a short hop from that mindset to the tribalism that we suffer from today. No matter the issue, my group is right and your group is wrong; and not only am I right, but I am superior and you, by definition, are inferior. Carrying that reasoning out to its logical conclusion, your group is actually dangerous.  And if my group isn't "winning," our country is in imminent danger of collapse.

This is oversimplified, of course, but it's close enough to the truth to be pretty depressing. Given the fact that we are a nation of 330 million individuals, each with his/her own opinion (and don't think the children are immune), we are probably in need of an intervention.

Five-minute free writes, Day 4 - "Listen"

Listen.  I think "listen" is maybe more than just an ear function. I know I have lost some of my ability to hear clearly as I have aged.  As my husband's voice gets softer and softer as a result of his Parkinson's disease, my ability to hear him has diminished.  We are that couple who shout at each other, "What?" and "I can't hear you" and become more and more irritated with each other. Sadly, this often means that we just don't talk at all.

There are some other ways that I do hear, but don't really listen.  Again, this seems to happen most often with my husband. Threaded throughout his conversation is the pulse of fear.  He has a degenerative balance disorder that won't kill him (probably), but that will get progressively worse. This situation is one with which he lives every waking minute, and that's something I tend to forget. I have to remind myself to really listen - what can I do to respond in a helpful way without adding to his fear? He depends on me to be the cheerleader in our relationship, so I must be very careful.

Finally, I hardly ever stop to listen to myself.  I need to work on that.

Five-minute free writes, Day 3 - "Problem"

I think my problem today is pretty obvious - it's actually Day 4, and I completely missed writing yesterday.

I took a self-care day, and that was just a lunch with a friend and a movie.  But my days are so packed with volunteer responsibilities, the tug and pull of caregiving, the little problems that are sprinkled throughout the whole waking period - I tend to forget about the wonderful self-care that I get from just this simple exercise.

Truly, I thought about it briefly in the morning - then not again until today, when I realized that it is Day 4 already!  So here I am, late.

I think this problem is one that I can solve.  I'm resolving to write every day this month, because I really miss it.

And along the way yesterday, I didn't do some other tasks that should have been done.  Maybe my problem is a bit more than I think.

Five-minute writes, Day 2, "GIFT"

At my age, I am told it's time I start to regard each moment of life as a gift.  This makes sense, of course, in a logical way. Clearly each moment IS a gift - I could get hit by a bus just any minute. Especially here in the college town in which I live.

However, much more difficult for me is to actually live in each moment. I've taken a little meditation instruction and found the relaxation part to be quite wonderful. I've even succeeded in at least calming my mind, if not quite getting it quite to the still stage.  But there's always so much to do.

I have come to the conclusion that a very real joy in my life is that feeling of puzzling over a problem and working out a solution. Whether it's just a Sudoku puzzle or a complicated piece of grant writing, that solution piece is where I truly get out of my selfish mind and into whatever passes for creativity in my brain.

I actually am comfortable with this. I try very hard not to worry too much about the distant future, and I certainly avoid dwelling on the past, so this problem-by-problem rhythm of my days is about as "living in the moment" as I'm going to get.

Here's where the gift comes in:  My mind still works. My reasoning is still relatively sharp. And I'm still thrilled when I get the "right" answer.

31 DAYS OF FIVE MINUTE FREE WRITES - DAY 1, OCTOBER 1, 2019 - "WHY"

The word for October 1 is “why.”  Why am I doing this?  I love to write but seemed to get bogged down with other tasks. I’m hoping this 31-day exercise will get me jump-started again.

Today is hot and dry and the lack of rain in our town is getting to be pretty scary. In fact, climate change is pretty scary. When I try to sort through the issues that matter most to me, I think that’s the one. I will vote environment from now and forevermore.

I worry so about my grandchildren. What kind of world are we leaving for them? I wish there were some way I could come back in 100 years and see exactly what it’s like. Or maybe I don’t.

Mental health is defined by resilience, I think. So when I start thinking these very scary things, I try to pull back and just look out my window. The world is really so beautiful, and the peace of my backyard is so restorative. So I pull myself up by my mental bootstraps and soldier on.

But I will still vote environment. And I will still worry.

Day 10 - The Giants' Causeway, the Glens of Antrim, and Belfast - August 29, 2019

We bade farewell to Derry and set out for the northern coast once again. Today's first stop was at the Giants' Causeway.  This unique geologic wonder is the result of ancient volcanic activity and resembles a gigantic road right into the north Atlantic. It's also said to be the windiest point in Ireland, which is a bold claim, indeed.  We have been pretty much windblown throughout our trip!

After a couple of hours exploring the coastline and the visitors' center, we had a little snack (hot chocolate and scones), then headed for the bus and began our drive through the Glens of Antrim.

This might be the most beautiful drive in all of the country. Rolling hills, deep valleys, small houses, many sheep, horses, and cattle all combine to drive home the fact that most of Ireland is rural and quite sparsely populated. In many areas the soil simply doesn't support much of a crop, except for hay and silage for livestock. Many families maintain small flocks and kitchen gardens, but must supplement their income in the service industry. Tourism is important. It's a hard-scrabble life for many, with rocky soil, much rain, and chilly (though temperate year-round) days. We have been amused by the complaining of locals, grumbling about the heat and humidity.  We haven't had a single day when the temperature has been much above 65 degrees, and humidity - no. We are not complaining at all - we know that our Tallahassee weather with still be terribly hot and humid when we return.

We arrived in Belfast around 2:30 p.m., checked into the beautiful Europa hotel, then ventured out for a bit of free time in the city.

Our first stop was the Belfast City Hall.  An ornate Victorian building, it boasts a high dome surrounded by towers topped by smaller domes. On the front lawn stands a huge statue of Queen Victoria, looking imperial and perhaps just the slightest bit annoyed. Inside the building, the floors and ceilings are ornate and quite beautiful. The entire first floor of the building is given over to a well-curated exhibit of the city's history.

After City Hall, we headed down a couple of blocks to Victoria Square, a modern, very posh shopping venue. Filled with international stores (and a Five Guys and a TGI Fridays), Victoria Square is a multi-story hybrid of open air and closed shopping mall, with an enormous glass dome at the top that offers a spectacular view of the entire city.

As we made our way back to our hotel, we decided to try the historic Crown Pub across the street from the Europa for a drink and dinner. Such fun!  It's ornately decorated and packed with people. It features little room-like booths with doors that can be closed (but no one does - the fun is having people poke their heads in to say hello).  With beer and wine and fish and chips all around, we spent a couple of relaxing hours with friends before venturing back to our room for an early bedtime.

Tomorrow, the Titanic Experience, the city tour, and on to Cabra Castle!

Day 9 - Malin Head and Derry, August 28, 2019

Today we left Derry and journeyed north, back into the Republic of Ireland through the Inishowen Peninsula to Malin Head, the northernmost point of the Republic. Long a lookout point for the country, Malin Head served as a landmark to pilots in World War II, and Lloyd's of London maintains a tower on the top of the cliff that serves as a weather monitoring station for all of western Europe.

We were blessed with a beautiful day of sunshine and scudding clouds, so the walk up to the top of the cliff was pleasant, although pretty steep. And of course everything was wet; everything is always wet in Ireland. It has either just rained or will rain shortly - but today we had sun for quite a while!

After a good look around and plenty of time for photos, we ventured a mile or so down the hill to Ferren's, the northernmost pub in Ireland. The Ferren family has offered hospitality to the farmers and fishermen who live in Malin (and to the occasional busload of travelers) for over six generations.  When we arrived, the mother and son team had Irish coffee, Bailey's and coffee, and Guinness for whoever wanted it, and also coffee, tea, and whiskey. The hubs and I have grown quite used to drinking hot tea in this country that consumes the most tea of any in the world.  In from the cold and the wind, very hot tea with milk and sugar (me) or just straight (the hubs) is a lovely experience.

We lingered for a while in the pub - a couple of our travelers even shot a little pool - then hopped back on the bus to return to Derry for lunch and a full afternoon on our own.

This day may well turn out to be my favorite of the trip.  Derry is such a fascinating city, with both its ancient and recent history bubbling just beneath the surface.  It's very uncrowded; it may be that the Troubles still loom large to many travelers who are a bit hesitant to visit. This is a shame. The city fathers have worked very hard to restore much of the city that was bombed in the last century, and the local folks are friendly and welcoming and have such a lovely way about them.

After a nice lunch at the hotel, the hubs and I ventured out to take the mural walk. Along about a 300-yard stretch of Rossville Street, there are powerful murals painted on the sides and ends of the apartment buildings that crowd this area, known as the Bogside. Outside the original city walls, the Bogside is home to much of the city's Catholic population, and Rossville Street is the site of a great deal of the violence that began in earnest in 1972 and continued until almost the end of the century - those turbulent years of bloodshed and death known to everyone as the Troubles.  The murals depict people and events of the bombings, in particular Bloody Sunday. Suffice it to say that it was an illuminating and sobering afternoon, and we were very aware that the peace that exists today is a fragile one, as evidenced by the angry graffiti and many militant signs.

Visiting Derry and seeing so many of its historical sights has been a highlight of this tour. Enhancing our enjoyment was a delicious dinner and a one-man show this evening, called the Spirit of Derry. We were treated to a most entertaining performance by Kiernan McGrath, currently the guiding light behind the Derry Playhouse, and formerly the lead tenor of the group 12 Irish Tenors. Kiernan returned to his birthplace to raise his family, and his love of Derry and his hopes for the future were obvious in his performance.  We loved it. What a great end to a most interesting and provocative day!

Tomorrow, the Giant's Causeway and Belfast.

Day 8 - Ardara, Donegal Town, and Derry - August 27, 2019

We boarded our bus this morning in the midst of a light rain which continued throughout most of the day. Our first destination was the tiny village of Ardara, County Donegal, specifically Triona, workshop and shop of a family long in the weaving business, and designers and creators of fine Donegal tweed goods.

These coats, sweaters, dresses, and even purses made of handwoven tweed fabric are simply beautiful. Many in our group purchased small items (socks, wallets, newsboy caps) and large ones (capes, ponchos, one beautiful Aran sweater, and at least two men's sport coats).  The hubs couldn't resist, and finally bought himself something - a fine herringbone tweed jacket in black and grey. He continues to be a perfect 40 Regular, and the coat looks as though it were tailored for him. He will wear it to the farewell dinner Friday evening, and I'll take a photo!

From Ardara we continued to drive through County Donegal to Donegal Town, where we stopped for lunch and a bit of a browse. Home to Donegal Castle, the town has a population of only 2600. We had a great, leisurely lunch, then back on the bus.

As we neared Derry, we could glimpse the city through the trees that line the River Foyle. Since the day continued to be gray and misting rain, the view was dramatic:  houses and other buildings straggling up the riverbank, with church spires poking into the clouds and the brooding city wall separating the very old from the not-so-old.

The hubs and I agreed that we may never have visited a city that has an intact wall completely circling the original settlement. The old part of the city dates back to the early 17th century. Visitors can walk the entire circumference, passing seven gates and several restored cannons. The wall is high and broad, and one can walk along the top or around the base in the dry moat. Inside is the old city, which was bombed numerous times in the years of the Troubles, and which is now being renewed and energized for both residents and tourists.

After we checked into our hotel, we met our tour manager in the lobby and boarded the bus for a brief guided ride around the city with Ronan, a local guide. Ronan's calm recitation of the history of Derry, with equal attention given to the issues of both sides, was comprehensive and powerful. After a brief bus ride, we disembarked and continued on foot, walking a portion of the wall and learning as much as Ronan had time to teach us.  We are very lucky that we will be here tomorrow and will have a chance to return to some of the places we found the most interesting and take our time to read about them.

After a lovely dinner with friends, we have returned to our room and headed for bed. Tomorrow morning we visit the northernmost tip of Ireland, out the Inishowen Peninsula to Malin Head. We expect it to be spectacular.  Tomorrow afternoon, free time in Derry, and we will explore.

Day 7 - Ennis to the farm to Galway to Enniskillen - August 26,2019

Today dawned clear and sunny, and the beautiful weather persisted as we left our hotel and journeyed to the Rathbun Farm.

The farmer and his wife supplement their income by welcoming groups into the old farm buildings, showing off their sheep, and offering delicious homemade scones with fresh butter and jam and positively the best tea ever.

First we learned about sheep farming, hearing from Fenton that he raises the lambs for meat, so keeps the ewes and two rams as the production team. He has around 80-90 ewes. The lambs are born in the spring, and as soon as they reach around 100 pounds in weight, they are shipped to the slaughterhouses. Lamb is a large export item in Ireland, and there's also a healthy Irish market. Their wool, we learned, is no longer a desirable product, as most consumers in the northern hemisphere prefer the softer merino wool from Australia and New Zealand.  He must keep the sheep sheared for health reasons, and ships the wool to China at a loss.  There it's used for coarser blankets and rugs.

Ted, the border collie, gave us a fine demonstration of how a working dog earns his keep. This one fairly small guy is all the farmer needs to keep his sheep in line. It was a pleasure to watch him work. He is all business, however; once he had shown off his skills, he retired to the farmhouse. He had no interest in all the love we tried to lavish on him.  By this time in the trip, we are all missing our fur babies!

After a really interesting session in the barn with the sheep, we joined the farmer's wife in a lovely room where she served us her homemade scones. What a treat! Afterward we toured the two very old farm buildings that they have preserved to show how life on the farm was 250 years ago. After a little tour of the house, we wandered the grounds a bit, then boarded our bus for Galway.

With only two hours in Galway, the hubs and I decided that lunch was a nuisance we just didn't need. We were still pretty full from the scones, etc., so we brought out our trusty Rick Steves and began to explore.

Although there is a lot of history in Galway, there's much more fun in the here and now. It's a lively international city with visitors, but not in huge numbers. From Eyre Square down to the Corrib River, the main shopping street has been made into a pedestrian walkway, and it's lined with small shops, many pubs, and a smattering of historical landmarks. We poked around, enjoyed the many buskers, found some things that (typical Rick Steves) were a little quirky, and just generally enjoyed ourselves. We are grateful Galway was included on this trip, even though our time there was short.

This was the longest day of the entire journey, traveling all the way from Ennis to Enniskillen. Lots of bus time (erk), but one fascinating stop after we left Galway at a tiny village called Knock. (Knock just means "hill" in Irish.)

Knock is the site of a fairly famous shrine that was established as a result of a vision shared by at least 75 villagers in 1879. Having been investigated and approved by the Pope, a basilica was built, and many pilgrims visit it daily throughout most of the year. On a cold, gray, windy day, we wandered the grounds, poked our heads into the sanctuary, and went on our way.  I believe this is the first active shrine I have ever visited, and it was serious business for those who were there seeking blessings.

By 5:30, we had arrived in Enniskillen, driven through the very picturesque town, and continued for a few miles out in the country.  At this point we are in Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom. There is no marked border, but suddenly the road signs speak of miles rather than kilometers, and the roads are A roads rather than N roads. And, oh, yes, we need pounds instead of Euros. Otherwise, it's still just beautiful Ireland!

The Manor Country House Hotel is drop-dead gorgeous. Featuring a beautiful golf course and a large lake, it is a luxurious resort. We dined here this evening, and now to bed.

Tomorrow, back to the Republic for shopping in Donegal, then into Northern Ireland again for a two-day stay in Derry. Euros, pounds - whatever.

Day 6 - August 25, 2019, Ireland

Today is my birthday. What a great locale for a celebration!

We started our day with a trip to Moriarty's, a lovely little shop outside of Killarney with the most beautiful Irish goods we have seen so far. We shopped, which is unusual for us, but we just couldn't resist buying a shirt (the hubs) and a sweater (me).  Both are lightweight (we are still Tallahasseans) but just lovely and soft. We were so tempted by the blankets and hand-woven sweaters, but had to be practical. They would be of no use in our Florida winters. Plus, there's the small matter of having absolutely no room left in our luggage!

Like most of the places we have been, both commercial and public, Moriarty's features a lovely garden next to a little fast-moving stream.  In fact, this locale could have been the setting for The Quiet Man.  I keep expecting John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara to come trotting along in a jaunting cart any minute.

After shopping, we journeyed to the Cliffs of Moher, with a brief lunch stop in the coastal village of Lahinch.  This village reminded us of the coastal towns of England, with their crowds of holiday families (it's a Sunday), children in swimsuits and clinging to towels, the wind whipping, the sun moving in and out of the clouds, and everyone pretending it was a fine day at the beach.  At least the surfers were wearing wet suits! To this group of Floridians, this behavior was madness. It was cold and windy and NOT swimsuit weather.

The Cliffs of Moher were only a few minutes away from our lunch village, and it's tough for me to do justice to this part of our day.  This very popular tourist spot is beautifully managed, with a visitors' center built right into the side of the hill leading up to the cliffs and well-tended paths and strong walls to keep people away from the edge.  The wind can be quite high, with gale force gusts, so there is some hazard involved. Of course we heard everyone's grisly stories (a woman camping nearby in a tent swept over the side, tent and all, by the force of the wind), but today was almost moderate. Having said that, I don't mean to minimize the wind; it made for a challenging climb. But what a reward! Looking north and south along the cliffs, out to the three Aran Islands, and down into the crashing surf was just spectacular.  This was one of those times when I truly regretted not having a fine camera and a well-trained eye. My photos don't even begin to reflect what we saw.

A delightful bonus of this stop is that OLLI friends Frank Alarcon and Kate Kearney got engaged! Frank, the romantic, had been hiding the ring for the whole trip and enlisted another couple to casually hang around him, making sure to take a photo of the moment that Frank went down on one knee.  Needless to say, this was a wonderful experience for all of us on the trip, including the folks who aren't with our group but who have become like family.  All 43 of us, plus our tour manager Kim and our bus driver Nick, have moved with an extra bounce in our steps for the rest of this wonderful day.

And a footnote:  Bob and Kathryn Callan celebrated their 46th anniversary today. What a great place for all of these celebrations!

Tonight we dined at the hotel, and are back in our room, getting ready for an early start in the morning. Tomorrow - Galway and Enniskillen!

Ireland - Day 3, August 22, 2019

Today we left Dublin and traveled south to Kilkenny for a brief visit. Such a lovely town! We got off the bus and into a tram for a ride around the historic area. Our driver, Paul, was a lovely wee man, full of jokes and fun. As he drove us through neighborhoods and past shops, he rang his bell and was greeted by locals each time - clearly he's a popular guy around here!

After this introduction to all the sights, we began walking to a few of them. One stop was at the farmer's market that springs up every Thursday on the broad promenade outside the walls of Kilkenny Castle.  At Paul's recommendation, we stopped at the Irish bog oak kiosk, operated by a farmer and his wife, he a wood carver and she a jewelry maker.  The oak comes from the peat bog on their farm and is as old as 7,000 years. Preserved by the bog, the wood is carvable and beautiful. I did feel compelled to purchase some earrings ....

Next we poked into Kilkenny Castle, entering the keep and wandering around admiring the flowers and the acres of back lawn. Then we exited the grounds, crossed the street, and went into the Irish Design Centre, where the castle outbuildings have been converted to artisan workshops.  So interesting to poke around in an exhibit of very modern sculpture (all for sale, and averaging around 2200 Euros) right in the midst of this medieval city!

After a light lunch and a stroll around some of the narrow streets, poking into a bookshop and peering into City Hall, we headed back to our bus and embarked for Waterford.

Ireland's oldest city, Waterford was first settled by Vikings. Situated perfectly for defense inside a triangle of two rivers and a stout city wall, the Norse settlement of Vedrafjoror was established in 853 A.D.  Morphing into Waterford, the city lost a third of its inhabitants to the plague in the Dark Ages, but has flourished ever since.  The inhabitants are proud to claim many superlatives - oldest, best, most wonderful artifacts, and so on. We found it hard to argue as we did a walking tour then a guided tour of the Medieval Museum. In the Oldest Wine Vault in Ireland, we had a tasting. We were awed by the golden vestments that are said to be the second-most valuable artifact in the country (couldn't quite beat out the Book of Kells). And our guide was absolutely delightful - very knowledgeable and noticeably proud to be born and bred in this marvelous city.

Tonight we stay at the Granville Hotel, which was once the home of Thomas Meagher, the man responsible for the Irish national flag. The building dates from the 18th century and was purchased and restored and opened as a hotel in 1979.  It is delightful. Our room overlooks Meagher's Quay and the Nore River, with a view of the Gothic Revival clock tower erected in 1863. We dined in the Tapestry Room, with an Irish coffee demonstration to top off a fabulous meal, and of course our very own Irish coffees to drink!

OLLI at FSU trips in conjunction with Collette Tours are always packed with adventures and much learning. This has proven to be the case so far here in Ireland. Tomorrow - Blarney Castle, Killarney, and a boat ride!

Shades of Ireland - OLLI at FSU tour, August 2019 - Days 1 & 2, August 20 and 21

Yesterday was our first day in Dublin, and much of it passed in a blur. After 27 hours of no sleep, when we finally got to our hotel room we needed a nap. Even though the afternoon was, technically, free time, we hit the pub next door for a delicious lunch before sleeping, then napped for a couple of hours, then met our group in the lobby to attend the welcome dinner at the Irish Party House.

The Irish, famous for both partying and eating, for centuries have had the party house tradition.  Neighbors would gather from afar in one home, bringing food, pipes, fiddles, and concertinas, and eat and make music far into the night.

That tradition continues in the 21st century in the beautiful, welcoming city of Dublin. The Irish Party House is just one of several venues to offer dinner, music, and dancing. We feasted on soup, stew, and chocolate dessert, complete with wine choices and the ever-present Guinness (or other beer, which still looked like Guinness), then proceeded to the basement for the entertainment.

With four very talented musicians, one of whom also demonstrated Irish step dancing and jigs, we learned a few Irish words, clapped along, sang along, then finally got up and danced! Or a few of us did. We have video evidence of some very surprising OLLI friends who turned out to be excellent and energetic dancers. What a craic! What a lovely way to spend an evening!

Arriving at our hotel around 10:30, we showered and collapsed.

Today we were up, at breakfast (and what a spread), and out by 9:00 a.m. for a coach tour of the city. The hubs and I have done a number of tours like this in many iconic cities, but I can safely say that the tour guide for this one was far and away the best we have ever had.  The lovely Grainne O'Malley (first name rhymes with Sonia, she told us) seamlessly blended a complete history of the city of Dublin with a running commentary on the sights we passed - we were enthralled. At one point we exited the bus for a tour of St. Patrick's Cathedral, which began its life as a Catholic church in 1220, although early Christian grave slabs on display, over a thousand years old, show that the site was in use long before the cathedral existed. After going through many changes in the 16th and 17th centuries, sometimes functioning as a Catholic church and sometimes as Anglican, it remains Anglican today.  It is, in fact, the national cathedral of the Church of Ireland, and reflects Irish history in a very special way. Jonathan Swift was the Dean of the Cathedral, a fact which undoubtedly kept him alive as he wrote outspokenly in opposition to the prevailing practices of the time, most notably in his essay "A Modest Proposal."  The reader of this blog will refresh his/her memory and be struck by how very modern Swift's ideas seem today.

Back at our hotel around the noon hour, with a couple of hours of free time, the hubs and I made a quick pit stop, then ventured out for lunch. The day had begun with sunshine (for about an hour), deteriorated into cloudiness, and by this time rain had begun to fall. Undaunted, we struck out complete with rain gear, ducked into Murphy's Pub for a quick lunch, then continued up O'Connell Street and around the corner to the Dublin Writers Museum.

What a find!  Occupying a stately old row house (and the ceilings, staircase, and detail work were pretty amazing), this museum is just a few rooms, but what treasures!  Given my interest in Irish history, this pretty extensive collection of books, letters, and photographs, accompanied by excellent commentary, added yet another view of Ireland as the land of poets. Particularly powerful to me was a copy of Yeats' "Easter 1916," which pretty much stopped me in my tracks. The multiple monuments and celebrations of the Easter Rising, coupled with so much great background offered by our morning tour guide, then the discovery of this poem which I had never read, was just perfect.

Back at the hotel, we boarded the bus at 3:00 p.m. for the Guinness Storehouse tour. "Storehouse" in this context just means the place where the beer is fermented - another fun fact. And what an amazing place!  We learned how Guinness is made and even had a taste. I am not a beer drinker, but I will admit that it didn't make me gag.  I even had a glass of a concoction called Black Velvet, which is half Prosecco and half Guinness.  It tasted like a pretty cheap white wine, so I was okay with it.  Of course the majority of our tour group was just fine with the Guinness itself, which everyone assured me did taste quite different from what is available in America.

After the brewery tour, we were off to Cleaver East, a lovely restaurant in the Clarence Hotel which is partially owned by U2 and Bono. Boasting a Michelin chef, Cleaver East was really a treat - starter, entree, and dessert, with wine/beer/soft drink option. Delicious food, lovely presentation, superb service, and we were back in our room by 8:30. This is a good thing. We are still jet-lagged, and must be up, dressed, fed, and checked out by 8:00 a.m.  Tomorrow:  Kilkenny and Waterford! But now to bed.

Milan - Amalfi Coast trip days 10 and 11

So much of yesterday was spent traveling by train almost the entire length of Italy, there seemed little to recount, so here's a two-day writeup, much like days 1 and 2.

We left Amalfi Town and the coast with regret - what a wonderful part of the world to experience! One gets a bit casual about it, so much natural beauty filling the eye. We loved our little hotel and the very kind and patient staff; there's just something very special about having a breakfast hostess who has your exact coffee order on the table without being asked, and always remembers your room number. Our last breakfast yesterday morning was lovely; the dining room opened a half hour early, with a full buffet, just to accommodate our early departure time.

The bus ride from Amalfi Town to Salerno takes about an hour and a half, and we had become so used to the near misses between bus and car, bus and bus, bus and retaining wall, and (unbelievably) bus and early morning runner that we scarcely noticed. The sound of the horn now seems perfectly ordinary, and we hardly look up when the bus stops suddenly and begins maneuvering carefully around some obstacle.

Salerno is a largish city, with a very busy port. The ride took us past hundreds of acres of cars waiting to be loaded onto giant ships, and thousands of containers. Past the port, into the city, a sharp left turn and we left the Mediterranean Sea behind.

The train station was very busy, and our group had to climb many stairs to get up to the platform. Of all places to be completely without elevators, this was the worst. We are all senior citizens and had been warned to take care of our own luggage, not to let any seemingly helpful local person take our bags. Whew!  We are all so grateful for the amazing Rafael, who had accompanied us from Amalfi Town and grabbed two very heavy suitcases at a time and bounded up the steps. Some of the men in our party also helped. Otherwise, we might still be in the station in Salerno, unpacking those heavy bags and carrying our belongings up the stairs one armload at a time!

This wasn't our first trip on a high speed rail train system and we were looking forward to having the luxury of first class seats (thanks to our wise director for thinking of this.) After heaving the luggage up the train steps and stowing it away, we collapsed into those wonderful seats and breathed a sigh of relief! As the train pulled away, some lovely angels with a refreshment cart distributed water and some little cookies and we pulled ourselves together.

The distance between Salerno and Milan is almost 500 miles, and we were scheduled to make the trip in about five and a half hours.  Of course there were delays; we had scheduled stops in Naples, Rome, and a couple of other cities before reaching our destination, and I think we had to wait at each station to be able to pull into the platform. We were around 45 minutes late in arriving, then did the whole baggage thing in reverse:  pull the heavy bags out of the little shelves where they were crammed together, get them down the steps, find our guide, then roll those blasted things a couple of very uneven flagstone-paved blocks, crisscrossed with trolley tracks, headed for our private bus.

Here my good luck ended. Catching a wheel of my suitcase in the tracks, I took a header into the sidewalk. It wasn't a bad fall and I had no ill effects, but I found myself looking into the face of a total stranger in a pink sport coat with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, looking pretty concerned. "Grazie, mille grazie," says I. And of course the group all came rushing to my aid - this kind of thing is so embarrassing!  And so we proceeded.

Arriving at the Hotel Fenice, right in the heart of the historic district of Milan, we encountered a truly European phenomenon: one lift. And a tiny one, at that.  So twenty worn-out, mildly crabby old people stood in line for an elevator that would hold one or two people and their luggage at a time. Truly needing some exercise, we just dumped our stuff and headed out.

We checked out the area briefly, then returned, got a recommendation for a nice restaurant just down the street, then headed out again. A lovely dinner, a nice stroll back to our hotel, and to bed.

THIS MORNING, TUESDAY:  A whole new us - although up very early for a 6:45 a.m. breakfast in order to grab taxis and get to the Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie, where DaVinci's Last Supper graces the former dining hall of the Dominican monastery that adjoins the church.  We learned that the Dominican order traditionally places a Last Supper on one end of their refectories and a Crucifixion on the other. DaVinci's work was commissioned by the powerful Sforza family in 1495. The artist painted it directly onto the wall rather than creating a true buon fresco in wet plaster, and as early as six years after the painting's completion it was already beginning to deteriorate. Thus began over 500 years of constant restoration, so that only small fragments of DaVinci's original work remain. Luckily, his students copied the painting more than once, and those copies do remain, giving us a very good idea of what the original looked like.

Visitors are allowed only 15 minutes in the room with the painting as the very presence of humans contributes moisture and damage. But it was well worth traveling thousands of miles and lugging huge suitcases up and down stairs just for this one experience.  There is simply nothing like putting one's eyes on a masterpiece - widely counted as one of the artist's three most outstanding creations, the others being the Mona Lisa and the Vitruvian Man.

After exiting the building, part of our group headed even farther north to Lake Como.  Some of us opted to stay in Milan, and we boarded a Hop-On, Hop-Off bus, headed for the Duomo.

I couldn't help but be reminded of Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona as I approached the Duomo. The modern Gaudi seems to have taken the Gothic cathedral and melted its spires, played tricks with its statutes, and installed its windows for maximum light and shadow within the space.  The Duomo in Milan plays by the rules, but, as the third largest church in Europe, it is truly breathtaking.

We began our tour by taking the elevator to the first roof terrace, where we wandered among the spires and the gargoyles and saints that adorn each one. There are stairs to go even higher and higher, but they are really steep and scary - we decided to be content with the lower side terrace.

Down in the elevator, out and around the church to the front entrance and we were inside. We explored the interior and also went below the church to the ruins of older churches, all the way back into the days of Roman temples. The practice of building a new place of worship on top of an old ruined one was quite common; in this case, there are several.  The old Roman Empire town of Mediolantum had streets that were ten feet below the level of the streets of today's Milan, and the Roman ruins can be seen through portions of the floor that are clear glass.

After the Duomo, we walked across the street to the Galleria. Built around the same time as the Eiffel Tower, the Galleria is a beautiful example of Victorian modernity. It's very reminiscent of the Crystal Palace in London, Prince Albert's pride and joy.  We sat for a coffee and watched the passing throng - so much fun!

We continued our city tour on the Hop-On, Hop-Off bus, stopping for lunch, then riding through the very modern skyscraper district.  Milan is the second-largest city in Italy with almost 1.4 million people and is a growing center for Italian commerce. The towering Palazzo Lombardia houses the offices of the Lombardy district, much like a state capital in the U.S.  There is plenty of room to grow both up and out, while making sure to preserve the treasures of many centuries.

After a brief rest at the hotel, many of our group visited yet another restaurant recommended by our hotel staff.  What a fabulous meal! It was a fitting end to a day that had begun with the Last Supper.

Tomorrow - home again!

Amalfi - 9th day - Ambling on our own

Today was the one day of our trip where there were no planned activities. This is a special characteristic of OLLI Study Abroad; we usually have at least one day, and sometimes a weekend, to figure out what we absolutely don't want to miss, or maybe return to one spot we really want to revisit.  It's good that this free time comes near the end of the trip, as we have gotten very comfortable with our surroundings, the transportation system, and where the best restaurants are.

SO - first on the agenda was to NOT get up at 6:30 a.m.  We have indulged ourselves in retirement by not being in such a hurry to get up in the morning, and the luxury of sleeping in until 8:00 a.m. was really nice. Our hotel offers breakfast until 10:30, so we stretched that out a little, too, with an extra cup of coffee and some lovely visiting with friends.

After breakfast, we went in search of a quiet, shady spot to do some sketching.  Our instructor, the brilliant Bill, had offered a sketch class in OLLI Maymester just to prepare us for this trip. The Amalfi Coast is a haven for artists; there seems to be a sketchable landscape or architectural detail around every corner.

The problem with this plan was the "quiet, shady" part.  It's very hot now, and midmorning offers very little shade. Alternative plan: find someplace cool, then return to the hotel and sit in the lovely area on our floor that has comfortable seating and a window opening onto a beautiful view and try that for the sketching.

There are two museums in Amalfi Town which we have intended to visit and just haven't quite gotten around to, so this morning we checked out the first one, the Arsenal Museum.  This is housed in a tunnel under the main road in what was once the center of Amalfi's busy boat-building industry. Since the 4th century it was quite common for the keels of boats to be laid down inside the tunnels, then pushed across the beach into the water to be completed.

The tunnel was cool and quiet - we were the only visitors so early in the day.  A small but beautifully curated history museum, this venue is a boat person's dream. There are compasses, sextants, octants, charts, maps, tools, even a scale model of the Doge of Venice's barge,complete with oars and a velvet canopy for the Doge himself in the stern.

Amalfi was one of the four major maritime republics of Italy in medieval times, along with Pisa, Genoa, and Venice.  The four cities hold a regatta every year on the weekend of the first Sunday in June, rotating between them. Unfortunately, Amalfi's turn is next year - drat!

We left the museum and headed back to the hotel, where we spent an hour or so doing some sketching.  Since I have neither the ability nor, really, the interest to get very far in this pursuit, I gave it my best with a pretty poor result. I can see so clearly what should be on the paper, but cannot seem to make my brain and my hand cooperate!

Next - lunch. By now it was about 2:30 p.m., and our late breakfast was but a faint memory. We headed for a seaside restaurant we had been meaning to try, split a very good pizza with a little dish of lemon sherbet to share, and just relaxed and watched the ferries and tour boats come and go in the marina.  Today we have a medium-sized cruise ship just off the coast (the Amalfi harbor is simply not large enough or deep enough for that size ship), so crowds have been large, and tenders go to and fro ferrying passengers between ship and shore and back again.  We enjoyed watching and not mixing in!

After lunch, it was on to the second museum that we had decided not to miss, the Museo di Carta, or Paper Museum. Amalfi once had many paper factories and even today the one remaining family business produces some of the finest papers in the world. This family has turned their old factory into a very well-preserved little museum, complete with a guided tour and a paper-making demonstration.

After a somewhat lengthy walk up a fairly steep street, we arrived and joined a tour with a total of five people, just perfect. The young man who showed us around was entertaining, demonstrating how paper was made before trees were used (with fine imported cotton and other cloth), and how the factory, established centuries ago, upgraded its process and its machinery as technology permitted. Through it all, the operation has used water power and natural drying methods. While today the paper that is made for artists and the paper used for writing is made from wood products, the process is very nearly the same as it was in the 14th century. We learned that the Vatican still insists on paper made from cloth, as it lasts for hundreds of years - and that paper comes from this very family's factory! This was fascinating, unhurried, and quite charming. We are very glad we took the trouble to climb that steep street.

Today is our last day in Amalfi Town; we leave very early in the morning for Salerno, where we will catch the train for Milan. The most important feature of any OLLI Study Abroad trip is that we have time: time to get to know an area or a town; time to enjoy the food and wine and friendship of our fellow travelers; time to rest; time to write in our blogs or journals and to look at our photos; and best of all, time to use a little of the language and interact with the people who are such gracious hosts. They are patient with us and seem genuinely glad that we are here.  At OLLI at FSU, we say we "go and grow." That has certainly been true so far on this trip - so Milano, watch out - here we come!

Amalfi Coast - Day 8 - Capri

At 9:30 this morning, we boarded the ferry from Amalfi to the Isle of Capri. This is a journey of about an hour and a half, and the ferry makes a stop at Positano about a third of the way there. We stayed close to the coastline and the trip was pleasant and cool. We decided today to sit in the interior of the ferry out of the sun - we knew we would be walking around in the heat soon enough! Of course for Tallahassee folks, this heat is definitely bearable.  The humidity isn't an issue and there is always a breeze.

The ferry lands at Capri at the Marina Grande, which is a noisy, chaotic place filled with hundreds of tourists, both those from far away, like us, and those who are simply day-trippers, many from just across the bay in Naples. We immediately purchased our tickets for a boat tour around the island, with a stop at the Blue Grotto.

Capri is a pretty impressive rock.  Its cliffs are white and towering, its sea caves numerous.  Our boat captain gave us just enough information, first in Italian and then in English, to be interesting but not too disruptive.  Mostly we just enjoyed the natural wonder of Capri.  For centuries it has acted as a kind of sentinel for the mainland, and there are many ancient towers and one very modern lighthouse, all of which serve to warn all comers away from the very forbidding rocks. The marina at which we first landed seemed to be just about the only bit of shoreline that is approachable.

There are one or two spots where our boat could come in very closely so we could see the sea caves. They seem to be fairly young, judging from the stalactites that seemed rather short. Of course, these caves are different from those found on land, as the sea undoubtedly sheers off the stalactite tips with each high tide.

Our captain pointed out one hotel way, way up - 2,000 Euro per night, he said.  We also saw a couple of celebrity villas, also perched on the edges of some pretty high cliffs.  (We all keep wondering: what does one do about grocery shopping? The answer to that is just an Italian shrug; one shops daily.)

As we approached the Blue Grotto, the captain informed us that there was a two-hour wait to enter.  For the hundreds of people waiting in large boats and small, this is pretty normal.  Each dinghy that enters the Grotto holds only four people - the math is pretty obvious.  We were given the choice to continue on our way, with those who were willing to wait the two hours being brought back to the Grotto.  As it happened, only four members of our group decided to wait it out.  The rest of us were ready to get back to dry land and start exploring!

Back at the Marina Grande, we decided to head up the mountain to Capri Town via the funicular.  This is a small train that runs up and down the mountain pretty much continuously.  Funiculars are very common throughout the world in towns with steep inclines - there are several even in America.  They are inexpensive (electric) and efficient. We bought our tickets (2 Euro each) and headed to stand in line. After a brief wait and a pretty spectacular ride, we stepped out into Capri Town.

We decided it was time for lunch, and following our tour book, we found a delightful restaurant tucked away in a narrow alley.  The proprietor took much pleasure in showing us the photos of celebrities who have eaten there, as disparate as Jerry Springer and Adam Sandler!  Sophia Loren still maintains a villa in Capri - but she hasn't made it in for lunch yet.

Capri Town itself is crowded and mostly famous for shopping and extremely expensive stores.  We wandered a bit, but decided we would like to check out the other little town on the island, Anacapri.  To get there, we bought tickets and boarded a small bus - just eight seats! There were at least 30 people on our bus, standing in every tiny bit of place available. It was hot.

Anacapri proved to be absolutely delightful.  Uncrowded, also offering much merchandise for sale (fabulous clothes, beautiful jewelry, sandals made to order for your feet), it also has a few notable venues for the sightseer.  In our wandering, we came upon the true WOW of this visit - the Church of San Michele.

This small church has the most remarkable floor. Made entirely of majolica tiles, it depicts the Garden of Eden with all its bounty, and in the center the apple tree, the serpent, and an angel driving Adam and Eve from Paradise. All of the animals have human faces.  They are completely disproportionate and not quite accurate - in the 18th century, artists would  have had to rely on descriptions from explorers to depict many of the animals of the earth.  The lion is the size of a small dog, while a nearby pheasant is about the same size.  There is a unicorn. The alligator has ears.

Some of our companions have traveled far more extensively than we, and we all agreed we have never seen a church quite like it.  The church has services only at Advent, and no one is ever allowed to walk on the floor.  There is a narrow wooden walkway around the edges so visitors can walk around and look at the floor, and a tiny, steep spiral staircase leading to the organ loft from which one can look down on the whole thing.  The altar in the church is quite ornate and beautiful, as are the little side chapels - but the floor is just jaw-dropping.

As we were approaching time to catch the ferry back to Amalfi, the five of us in our group agreed that it was time to try a cab.  The cabs are such fun - they are open-air, very new vehicles of which their owners are very proud.  We bargained a bit with the driver, who agreed to take us all the way to Marina Grande for 25 Euro (five per passenger) which we thought beat that crowded hot bus considerably.  What a great ride down the mountain!

We caught the ferry at 5:30 p.m. and were back in Amalfi, hot, tired, and thirsty, by 7:00 p.m.  We walked a bit up the main street to a favorite little piazza and tried a new restaurant, which turned out to be excellent. Topping our dinner off with a gelato from the stand next door, we headed for bed.

Tomorrow is our free day - and we will sleep in just a bit! After that, who knows?

Amalfi Coast - Day 7 - Positano and the Green Grotto

Today we boarded the ferry from Amalfi to Positano, one of the prettiest and most fashionable spots on the Amalfi Coast. Although its primary attractions are shopping and the beach, Positano also boasts a Roman church that presents a number of incongruities. First of all, the small plaza that leads to the doors is decorated with completely contemporary inlaid art. The Church of Santa Maria Assunta began life in the 12th century as a Benedictine monastery, but was abandoned when the entire lower town moved higher because of fear of pirates. When the pirate threat was deemed to be over in the 18th century, the church was given a compete Baroque makeover. Consequently, it is much more ornate than other churches in the region.

There is a marvelous legend surrounding the Byzantine of the Black Madonna which hangs above the altar. While it probably was brought from Constantinople by the monks in the 12th century, locals prefer to think that Saracen pirates had it on their ship as plunder, and in a violent storm, the Madonna spoke to them, saying "posa, posa," (lay me down). The ship glided safely onto the beach and the pirates became Christians. The painting was kept by the locals, and the town was henceforth called Posa-tano (tano meaning town).  Today, of course, it is Positano.  (Credit to Rick Steves for the info on this story.)

After our tour of the church, we were free to take the 30-minute tour of the archaeological museum, or just to wander on our own.  Foregoing the museum for a little exploring, we walked as far as we could go on the beachside promenade, where we enjoyed some beautiful beach scenery. Positano is home to many wealthy people and their beach homes perched high on the hillside are pretty impressive. We checked out some shops; Positano is known for its beautiful linen clothing.  Very pricey - thank goodness it cost nothing to look!

We had a leisurely lunch before getting the ferry back to Amalfi, where we rushed to purchase tickets to visit the Emerald Grotto just down the coast near Conca di Marina. While not nearly as impressive as the Blue Grotto at Capri, the Green one was fun. We were entertained by our boatman with a rendition of "It's Now or Never," partially in English but mostly in Italian. Music echoes quite well in this cave by the sea!

Back in Amalfi, we rested a bit before meeting our guide to Amalfi Town at 5:00 p.m.  This gentleman was quite entertaining, sharing little local stories and quite a bit of history.  He is very proud of his town (not surprisingly) and certainly shared some history that we did not know. For instance, poor old Flavio Gioia, who has two separate parks named for him, not to mention a pretty impressive statue, actually never existed at all. Apparently the methods of recording history all those centuries ago resembled the modern game of Gossip; by the time the books had been revised a few times, Flavio had been invented. Not surprising that every single little town along the Amalfi Coast claims him as their most famous citizen!

Such a long day - lots of fun, but pretty exhausting.  After a lovely dinner with friends at one of our favorite local restaurants, we are planning an early bedtime.  Tomorrow - the Isle of Capri!

Amalfi Coast - Day 6 - Paestum

The word that comes to mind is "awe." We've never been to Greece, so we have no point of reference with which to compare what we saw today in Paestum. Suffice it to say that we were absolutely gobsmacked.

Settled by Greek immigrants from Sicily almost a thousand years before the birth of Christ, Paestum was a thriving city for several centuries before the marshes and their accompanying mosquitoes and malaria drove them away.  The land continued to be fertile farming territory, and Romans soon settled there, leaving some of the temples but generally building on top of the homes and businesses once occupied by Greek citizens.

As the Romans, too, realized that the flat, waterlogged plain very close to the Mediterranean Sea was susceptible to floods and seaquakes, they also abandoned the town to move to higher ground. Over the intervening centuries, Paestum vanished even from memory.

When, in the 17th century, the ruins were discovered and excavations were begun, there was only mild interest. Not until the Grand Tours of the 18th century did the wealthy and educated begin to be excited about the treasures beneath the soil. Early archaeologists flocked to the site. [Note: Mussolini was so proud of this unique place that he had eucalyptus trees planted just within the city walls to help fight the mosquito population. This we learned from our guide, who made an appropriate face while reluctantly giving Mussolini his due.]

Paestum today has the oldest and most perfectly preserved Greek temples anywhere in the areas of Greek expansion, and the finest example north of Sicily.  Between the north and south ends of the old city where stand three magnificent artifacts, there are Roman ruins. These are, for the most part, simply foundations of houses and shops, with a small amphitheater and a largish forum. Having visited Pompeii earlier in the week, we were able to see pretty clearly the outlines of the parts of a typical home, and also see the difference between those ruins and those of the shops.

It's hard to describe the reaction to getting off our bus and walking just a few yards towards the city walls and suddenly seeing the Temple of Ceres (which is actually thought to be a Temple of Athena). Greek architects worked with enormous blocks of stone that fitted together almost seamlessly, relying on their weight for stability.  Not until Roman times was cement used. The towering columns and near-intact facades still stand silently as they have done for nearly 3,000 years. At the south end of the town stand the Temple of Hera I and the Temple of Hera II.

Paestum is a bit off the normal tourist track - a bit farther and a bit less publicized than Pompeii. The result is an immensely gratifying experience.  We were the only tour group on the site this morning, and instead of the thousands who pushed and shoved their way through Pompeii, we found only a few single visitors on the grounds.  Our absolutely delightful and extremely well-educated guide, Filomena, led us at a steady pace through the portion of the town that has been excavated, unhurriedly and undisturbed. What a contrast!

After walking the perimeter of Paestum, we exited through one of the four city gates and headed towards the museum. This small and extremely well-curated museum is a jewel. It is filled with the actual artifacts recovered from the excavations. We can see what we once did not know: Greeks used colors and shading in all of their crafts, from the humblest amphora used to store wine or grain to the most beautifully decorated vases. A statute of Jupiter recovered from the ruins of the Temple of Hera II actually sports a painted beard.

The prize discovery from this site, not found until 1968, is the four sides of the interior of a tomb and its roof.  Called the Tomb of the Diver, the slabs of stone recovered are covered with sophisticated art, much of which is still being studied. These are are believed to be the only such artifacts ever recovered from a Greek tomb, and they are absolutely stunning.  Filomena was justifiably proud to spend some extra time with us, explaining the symbols and story line of the paintings.

Today was by far the biggest WOW of the tour so far. As we returned to Amalfi on our private bus, we were all processing what we had seen and what we had learned. This ancient site should be on the list of every traveler who comes to the Amalfi Coast - but hurry. Sadly, it might become another Pompeii.

Tomorrow, Positano and the Emerald Grotto via boat. Now we will see the coast from the sea instead of the land, which is said to be an entirely different experience!

The Amalfi Coast - Day 5 - Ravello

Today we hopped on a public bus and headed up the mountain to the village of Ravello.

[An aside here about transportation along the Amalfi Coast: there are public buses that have a schedule, and each day they start out pretty well.  For instance, today we were catching the 9:15 a.m. bus, and it arrived at the bus stop more or less on time. For the return trip, we were planning on a 2:15 p.m. bus, but our group gave up somewhere between 2:30 and 3:00 p.m. and journeyed back down the mountain in a couple of cabs.  A few folks caught the 1:00 p.m. which actually arrived in the vicinity of 1:00 p.m.; by 2:15, all semblance of a schedule apparently had been abandoned.  This is not the fault of the bus drivers, or even the passengers. The actual road is the culprit - the road and other drivers.  In at least two places the road narrows to one lane, and there are actual traffic signals at a particular curve where traffic backs up one way to let the other line through, and vice-versa. While this seems odd to the American tourist, it does work. At least we haven't seen any actual crashes. However, it does wreak havoc with the timetable. We have heard tales of buses getting stuck because there was just that one inch of space where a driver made a terrible judgment call. Needless to say, schedules are actually just suggestions.

Another funny quirk which I think is quite common in mountainous areas across Europe: the bus driver gives a blast on his horn as he approaches a blind curve, or even an iffy intersection.  This works. I've wondered what it must sound like to an approaching car, as the horn sounds more like a train than anything else.  And about the cars: they are cars.  Mostly little cars. It has now been five days since I have seen a pickup truck, or even a small SUV.]

Back to Ravello:  This is a lovely little town perched very high on the mountainside.  The community hosts an international music festival every summer (sadly, after we are to be back in the U.S.), with a pretty impressive lineup of stars.  The locals are quite proud of the long line of celebrities who have visited and fallen in love with the town. Gore Vidal owned a villa here, as did Richard Wagner, who found the inspiration for "Parsifal" in the terraced gardens of the Villa Rufulo. The Villa is now open for tours and the gardens are spectacular, even in early summer.

Ravello also boasts a cathedral that is Romanesque, quite plain when compared to some of the later, more ornate churches.  Its mosaics are stunning and the Byzantine influence is everywhere. The cathedral and the Villa sit side by side, a fascinating blend of sacred and secular.

Upon our return to Amalfi and after a brief rest, we had time to visit the cathedral which sits just up the street from our hotel.  We have passed through the piazza numerous times while we've been here, but this was the first chance we had to go in. The cathedral's entrance is at the top of a broad staircase which functions for this village much the way the Spanish Steps do in Rome.  Convenient resting places are occupied by locals and tourists alike, some snacking, some sketching, some just watching the passing throng.

The interior of the Amalfi Duomo is far more ornate than the Ravello church, although still not as overwhelming as those we have seen in Rome and Florence or even eastern Europe. The ceiling of the church is quite beautiful and shows the beginnings of the practice of displaying fine art that is so far above the floor that only God can see it.

We lingered in the piazza after our church visit for a drink and conversation, then proceeded to dinner at a restaurant featuring lemon trees with lemons hanging through the latticed covering over the outdoor tables - a truly memorable meal.

Tomorrow we visit Paestum, the most well-preserved Greek town north of Sicily.  We have the Romans to thank for this: they never disturbed religious structures or burial grounds, reasoning that as long as their conquered subjects followed the rules of the emperor, they were entitled to their own customs.  The town simply withered away and was forgotten until the 18th century, when it was rediscovered and somewhat excavated and preserved.  This will be our chance to see the Greek foundations of the Roman architecture we observed in Pompeii.

Paestum is some distance from Amalfi Town, so tomorrow will be a long day.

Amalfi Coast - Day 4 - Pompeii

I first visited Pompeii 45 years ago. Then the ancient ghost city was almost deserted in the late afternoon when we arrived; there were no pedestrian sidewalks, no gift kiosks, no gelato stands. We wandered at will, looking into the ruins of houses and marveling at the plaster casts of bodies caught at the moment of death, mouths open in silent screams, limbs twisted, even a mother covering the body of her child.

• Today we visited the same Pompeii, but so different. First, there were at least 10,000 other folks there at the same time. The very narrow streets were packed with live humans. We had to wait in line just to gaze into the windows of what was once a house, or a shop, or a brothel. The plaster casts are all in acrylic cases behind a fence. Many of the homes are closed to tourists; many of the remaining columns are encased in metal supports, so weak that the danger of their falling has made the protection necessary. 

This wasn't actually disappointing, but I'm glad I saw it when I did, back in the early '70s. That memory still is transcendent to me.

Our trip, including time on the bus, took about six hours, so we were back in our hotel by midafternoon. After a brief toes-up, we ventured out to just wander. Looking for a few small things to bring home with us, we poked our heads into a small paper shop and a donkey store.

Paper, as I have mentioned, is very important in Amalfi Town. There is really only one actual paper manufacturing operation nowadays, but paper-making was once a thriving cottage industry here. Amalfians are quite proud of their beautiful papers, which they bind into journals, make into delicate cards, and use to fashion wonderful hats. The little shop we explored was our favorite kind in Europe - tiny, a little dark, and mostly deserted. The very nice lady who took our money and wrapped our purchase threw in a little scratch pad decorated with lemons. Have I mentioned that the Amalfi Coast is the lemon capital of the world? This, no matter what Minute Maid might have to say about it.

Donkeys are also a big deal. Real live donkeys are still used to haul building materials and other goods from suppliers to the villages. There are winding trails that no motorized vehicle of any size could maneuver, and the donkeys are still the most efficient tools available.  We have seen a number of them standing patiently by the roadside being loaded or unloaded. Consequently, the donkey is pretty much the Amalfi spirit animal, and they appear on everything from cups and plates to marvelous avant garde works of art costing many hundreds of Euros.  We now are the proud owners of two donkey coasters and a little sheet telling the story of the donkey in both Italian and English.  (The proprietor of the donkey store is prepared for most of the tourists who swarm these narrow streets.)

After our leisurely shopping, we chose a little sidewalk taverna where we had a coffee (me) and a beer (the hubs.)  The entrance to the little bar was framed in small lemon trees. We sat outside and just took in the passing crowd.  When we were rested, we walked back to our hotel, joining OLLI friends for a lovely dinner, then to bed. Tomorrow, Ravello!