“I read the news today, oh boy . . .” (A Day In the Life, Lennon and McCartney)
The news this week is heartbreaking, incomprehensible, and ugly. Why is the human race so quick to choose fear and anger over love and tolerance?
Amid all of the rainbow pride flags being flown in solidarity and pasted across Facebook homepages, I wanted to offer up this traveler’s “peace flag”–a photo of the Lennon Wall (sometimes called the Peace Wall) in Prague.
The wall began after John Lennon’s death in 1980. His picture appeared on the wall, with anti-communist slogans (remember, this was during the communist regime). The wall was painted over, but the paintings of Lennon, along with graffiti about Lennon and Beatles lyrics, kept reappearing. It was an act of defiance against the corrupt and oppressive government.
During the 80’s, student protesters who called their movement “Lennonism” (ironic and clever!) often clashed with police in the area. Whenever the wall was repainted, the graffiti just came back.
The communist regime is long gone, but the wall still stands and continues to draw crowds and artists. It has been painted over many times, by whitewash and by years of artists leaving their messages, and it’s even been reconstructed as it crumbled. Unlike the Berlin Wall, which crumbled with the demise of communism, this wall stood for peace and watched communism fall in the (non-violent) 1989 “Velvet Revolution” in the former Czechoslovakia.
This week it stands and speaks to all of us with its rainbow of colors and its haunting refrains of “Give Peace a Chance.”
*The Lennon Wall is nearby the Charles Bridge and the French Embassy.
Ah, Cambridge. Two weeks ago, I was there. This week, I wish I was still there.
A few days ago, my corner of Germany was a mess. Rain/snow/hail falling in scissor patterns (like the wind was blowing two directions at once), followed by a more languid thunder storm (minus the storm, because at that point the precipitation mostly left and only the thunder came swaggering through). It was absolutely infuriating weather to have at the end of April. . . and with the pollen full out and everyone’s eyes swollen to the size of grapefruits. Mother Nature is beating us senseless here!
So I’m meditating this week to keep my wits about me. I’m closing my itchy eyes and thinking back to the bright evening we spent punting on the Cam in Cambridge, when the world was beautiful and spring was a given.
A book in the window of G. David Bookseller, St. Edward’s Passage, Cambridge
If “punting on the Cam” is a phrase that leaves you scratching your head, not to worry. It has that effect on many people. The Cam is the river that runs through Cambridge, and punt boats are traditional flat bottomed (square and stodgy looking) boats. The “punter” is the unlucky bloke who stands at the back of the boat and both steers and propels the small vessel with a long pole.
It looks easy enough, but I’m told it’s a little tricky and tiring for beginners. Conventional wisdom in Cambridge: if you live there, take the time to learn to punt and then enjoy self-hire boats at your liesure; if you’re a tourist, pay the boatman and enjoy the ride. Most of the punting guides will offer their “puntees” a bit of history and Cambridge trivia along with the beautiful ride.
Punting under the Bridge of Sighs at St. Johns College, Cambridge UChurch spires, red phone booths, and tartan blankets– very British.
We did our punting in the early evening. It was still bright, but it was a weeknight and campus was mostly quiet along the backs by the river. The air was growing crisp, to the point that our punter had to lend my son a blanket while we strolled around the block and waited for him to prepare our boat.
Pretty soon, we were afloat and learning about the many colleges that make up Cambridge University, ohhhing and ahhhing at the fabulous architecture, and occasionally being heckled by beer swilling students on the banks–which, as long as it’s done in lovely British accents, still sounds pretty posh to Americans. (It’s embarassing, but true–it hardly matters whether a Brit is performing a Shakespearean sonnet, reading from the phone book, or berating us, we Americans will swoon regardless.)
Under another bridge we go. (Still looking at St. John’s College, I think.)
Cambridge University is made up of 31 colleges, many of which have backs along the River Cam. Each college has its own architectural character, and even modern buildings (usually dormatories) occasionally pop up next to Tudor arches and ruddy red brick.
Our punt ride lasted just under an hour, and that was perfect– no time to get fidgety, plenty of time to be lulled into a serene trance on the tranquil river, to soak up a little history, to nibble at the edges of tales of Kings, Queens, scholars, actors, and socialites. As the sun began to fall over Cambridge and a sliver of moon showed itself in the sky, our punt, having come to the halfway point of our journey, turned itself around and we retraced our steps. This slow boat ride home offered us the chance to see the backs once again, from another angle, in another light. . . it seemed fitting in a place like this, where so much history has turned and turned again, and the water keeps dreamily floating its passengers on by.
You’re likely to find lots of photos of the when and where–the seasons and the sights–in my blogposts, but less of the who. My kids don’t like to be plastered across the internet, and I’m okay with that, so I don’t offer many photos of traveling companions.
Sometimes that seems radically at odds with what my blog is all about. Nobody would ever mistake this blog for a travel guide or a treatise on “how to travel.” More often than not, it’s all about “the feels” for me. Did I laugh, did I cry, was I horrified or amused, or surprised or underwhelmed, etc, etc.
But “the feels” and the way they linger in our travels are just as much about our traveling companions as about where we went, what we saw or did. Right? No journey is just about the road you travel, the views you stop to marvel. They are just as much about the companions we travel with. It’s a simple thought, and it should be a simple post to write.
It’s anything but.
Ollie and Bebe– the dynamic duo.
Some months ago, our most loyal and loving traveling companion passed away, and I’d like to honor her in this blogspace.
Her name was Bebe, and she was a very bright light in our lives. She passed away at 15 years old, and she loved every moment oflife right up until the end.
Yes, it’s unbelievable!
She was a rescue dog who came into our lives when my daughter was just a toddler. Bebe was so full of love and personality– from the moment you met her it was clear that she was one of a kind. Even her questionable breeding made her stand out: she was a Mini Dachshund/Black Lab mix. Just let that sink in for a minute.
We used to call her our “pocket lab” — a 20 pound version of those gentle giants. She had no idea that she was tiny. In true Lab character, she chased every frisbee you threw, and (if you threw them low enough) she caught most of them expertly. Dragging them back to you was a little harder, as some frisbees were taller than she was. But she was young, eager, and very athletic . . . and we quickly discovered soft, flexible frisbees (easier to drag, so problem solved!).
Bebe was the first to kiss away your tears, the fastest to steal your breakfast if you weren’t vigilant (which we quickly learned to be), and the most eager traveler, always with her nose to the ground and leading the charge. On a trip to Rothenburg ob der Tauber (Bavaria), she sat at attention for a rickshaw ride and, I believe, enjoyed the experience more than our kids did.
It was inconceivable to us that she would ever not be in our lives and our travels.
But there is no life without death, and the unbridled joy of sharing life with a pet does exact the steep price of grief when they are gone. Unquestionably a price worth paying.
Bebe changed our family is so many ways, and all for the better. How did she change our travels? When she couldn’t join us on the travels, she gave us a compelling reason to come back home when the trip was done– instead of grumbling that our trip was over, we cheered to see our pup again. When she did join us, she reminded us to venture down each alleyway of a new town–and sometimes we’d find something unexpected and wonderful. She reminded us to run full speed ahead when there was something interesting in front of us. She reminded us to roll down the window and let the breeze greet us as we cruised into a new town, to stop in the parks and sun ourselves in the green grass, and to turn all of our senses over to a new place. If we were in the French countryside and grumbling that there was no wifi to check our messages, she’d drag us out for a walk, or stick her nose in the air to say “Do you smell that? There’s lavender, sunshine, and fresh baked bread– get up and let’s get moving.” And she’d be right, every time.
There was never any lack of joy or openness to new adventures with Bebe– she was our better natures in every way. We miss her terribly, but she taught us well. And she left us her trusty sidekick Ollie to continue the lessons.
Have dog, will travel. This is our motto.
I’ll leave you with photos of just a few of my traveling companions, past and present.
With baby in Zeugma, banks of the Euphrates in 2000 (just a week before the town was flooded by a new dam). Interesting place–see links below if you want to learn more.With kids in Lindesfarne, Northumberland, UKWith pups in Bremen, Germany 2014
Easy riders, in the Yucatan Penninsula 1988With our first pup, Teak, in Turkey. 1998
Chichen Itza, Mexico
Turkey, 1998 or 99
1998 or 99 –our neighbors, in a Byzantine era cave church in the Ilhara Valley, near Guzelyurt, TurkeyCousins in Edinburgh, at Greyfriar’s Bobby Memorial ,2007 or 2008Bashful travel companions, Salzburg 2015. My son came prepared to erase his identify from any photographic evidence–at 13 years old, he’s already a man of mystery.
*To read up on Zeugma–which I should get around to blogging about some day, it’s a fascinating place– check out these links
Travels and Tomes: One Expat's Amblings and Ramblings 