So, I quit my job, sold my house and went travelling

Henry James

2011-08-23T13:27:00.001-07:00

Henry James, the famous author and playright, was by all acounts a lover of Italy especially all things Venice. We are currently reading his travelogues of his many trips to this amazing country. His Victorian words are a nice companion to all the modern ones.

"The mere use of one's eyes in Venice is happiness enough."

Can't wait to see. March 15.

John

Trevi Fountain don't lie

2011-08-13T13:45:00.000-07:00

Ah Venice. We're dawning the backpacks once again and heading back to the boot shaped country we love. Three years ago, we spent some amazing times in the Cinque Terre, Rome, Pompeii, Naples. This time we'll be celebrating 15 years of marriage and won't have the kids so we're classing things up and heading to Venice. Ah Venice, I agree Indy. Experts are saying if you want to see Venice, best to go in the next 10 years. The world's most beautiful city has been eroding for decades but still manages to draw millions a year. Venice, a city that can be trodden across in a quick hour, still has some 450 bridges allowing the masses to steer clear of the centuries of slurry flowing underneath. While some see stinky slurry most see history and culture which is why they're willing to pay $150 for a 4o minute Gondola ride, among other things. We've already booked our hotel and are quite excited as it's currently the top Venice hotel on Trip advisor and many other review sights. Plus, the price is reasonable... for Venice standards. More on Venice in the months to come!

We decided on Spring Break because next summer's Olympics are officially a black hole, sucking all available flights right off the grid. So yeah, if you were planning to fly to Europe next summer, be prepared to pay through the roof or fly into Tibet and cab to London. Speaking of London, we're stopping by at the end of the trip spending 2 nights and time at The British Museum, St Paul's Cathedral, WestMinister Abbey plus many moonlit hours walking along the Thames giggling and squeezing each other's bums -as lovers do. Angie just said "we're not doing that" so I guess the squeezing will be giggle free. Classy squeezing it is.

So, London will end things off and Venice will sandwich the experience but we're kicking things off in Rome March 12! In some twisted act of fate we missed out on The Forum last trip so we'll check that out - including everything Julius Caesar (I have a bit of a fascination with the guy). We also hope to check out The Appian Way and Catacombs. Mostly though, as with all places, we plan to wander through slowly sipping coffee, licking gelato and munching on pizza done right.

We'll be periodically posting pics, links and our thoughts here and there over the next several months leading up to March 11! 3 years ago I stood with my back to the Trevi fountain and tossed in all my coins. Can't wait to return!

John

Thanks closesineurope

2009-03-22T09:30:00.000-07:00

I did it. I started a new blog. Thanks closesineurope, we had some good times, but we're not actually in Europe anymore so its time for something new.

Everyone! Please visit me here from now on. I'm still formatting it but the first post has been written. Angie will either write with me or start her own, or both.

John

Hong Kong

2009-03-16T12:18:00.000-07:00

While I don't care for the Canucks I must say Vancouver has a great airport complete with free Wifi anywhere you are. I just spent the past hour chatting with the wife and kids on facebook. I'm a modern man. The best was when I told Lex I was having coffee with Troy from High School Musical. I am now an even awesomer dad. My plane leaves in 3 hours and my flight is supposed to last 14 hours. Wow. I thought the 8 hours to London was long I can't imagine this. The good thing is I have some good books and my laptop plus each seat on the plane has its own tv. It'll be fine as long as my back holds up. I slipped a disc a few days ago playing hockey but stubbornly kept playing. My wife wasn't impressed even when I told her I set up the winning goal. Apparently I should have been doing something noble whilst slipping a disc, like holding open a door or catching a falling baby. Anyways, I now walk wierd as Maddie compassionately said to me last night which. ..don't I always? Sitting is the worst thing for this kind of back injury which means I'll be the annoying wierdo who hobbles up and down the aisle every hour for "no apparent reason." I just read on Steve's blog that his back is out too. Man, we'll be terrific at this camp.

Well, its time to checkin to my flight. Should be a good time.

John

Due to the recession. . .

2009-03-13T18:29:00.001-07:00

So its official. Last week I flew into Calgary, gathered up all our stuff and made the solitary drive through the mountains back to Crofton. The drive was fairly eventful as the road was closed from Field to Golden meaning I had to drive all the way to Radium Hot Springs then loop back to Golden. I had never been to the Springs but was frustrated enough when I arrived that I didn't really take them in. As I continued my road trip the roads got snowier and the semi's became more invincible. There were a few times when my knuckles bleached and Paddington Bear heard a profane word or two. Ah yes, Paddington Bear accompanied me. My friend Greg had jokingly seat belted my daughters London gift in with me and there PB stayed the entire trip. Some people enjoy driving hours and hours in bad weather with no radio, I'm not a big fan. In fact, I discovered I'm a bit more sociable then I even thought. I wouldn't be a liar if I said that Paddington became my Wilson as there were times when I engaged him. "So Paddington, what do ya say there, quite the road trip hey?" "Whoa, that was a close one, sorry about that Pad." "Stop, again, you just went?" We ended up bunking in Kamloops for the night and I almost brought PB into the hotel with me but thought otherwise. The next day I could tell he was miffed because he was very quiet and spend most of the time looking up at the cab roof as if to say "you used me, like a stuffed who. . ."

Anyways, we arrived back and moved into the 2 bedroom at the same hotel. The manager is very sweet and worked hard to get it ready for us and although there is still a faint urine smell we rented a black light and zapped the rest of it and other things. .. away. High five. There's twice as much room as our last place but still, after 6 months without a home, we drool for a place of our own.

Oh yeah, so the week I returned I had a meeting with the Church planting network and they said "due to the recession. . ." Yeah, not great news. They can only afford a third of what we need so the possibility of us getting hired suffered a major blow. We've haven't given up yet, I rarely although there does come a time when the line between moving in faith and forcing things is very faint. We love it on the Island and really hope to stay here but in the end I must have a secure job, wherever it may be. So. ..if you know anyone. ha.

Yeah, we're trying to stay positive and doing a fairly good job but there are moments when we "discuss" things with God and encourage him to make the right decision. ha.

For now, I'm focused on China. Yeah, I get to go to China after all. Hong Kong to be exact. On Sunday I fly out with Steve McMillan to speak at a Teen Retreat. 5 sessions, so we'll be busy. His sister Harmony works there and she's our connection. We're not that famous. I'm actually getting excited although I must admit its been hard concentrating on my talks with all the job stuff in the background not to mention some close Calgary friends who are going through hell.

Anyways, it was time to update and we feel loved that you care enough to hound us for information. We'll try to keep it coming at a faster pace.

John

Quote

2009-01-28T16:45:00.000-08:00

"What I think is that a good life is one hero journey after another. over and over again, you are called to the realm of adventure, you are called to new horizons. Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of fiasco. But there's always the possibiliity of bliss."

This great quote by Joseph Campbell perfectly sums up where we're at these days. All is well. We should have more to share soon.

John

What's next.

2008-12-14T16:31:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone. As you've probably guessed, we arrived safely back in Canada 11 days ago. Since we've been back we've fought jet lag, schooled our Pawlak friends in Monopoly, reunited with our dog and attempted to answer the nagging question, what's next? I'd love to say we have an answer but as of this minute, we're still nomads.

We are currently staying in the tiny ocean town of Crofton, on Vancouver Island, contemplating our next step. Its a good place to be when you don't know where to be plus Angie's parents live here. They're full up at the moment so we're staying at The Twin Gables motel, an all fifties one bedroom hood where the TV works but Franklin is usually blue. Still, its cozy for now and has inspired us to contemplate at a faster pace, ha. The good news is we have been presented with 2 great opportunities so we'll persue both and see what happens. Either way, we should have an answer in the next 6 weeks, if not sooner. Actually if you want, you could pray that we'll sense God's leading and have the wisdom and courage to follow it. Thanks.

People ask us if its good to be home. While it's good to be back in Canada, we're not home. We're still staying in someone else's place, living out of our backpacks (our stuff remains stored in Calgary until our future is decided) and contemplating the future. Ask us on a good day and we'll tell you we're living the adventure, ask on a bad and we'll use different words. Its been good though, and while there've been plenty of moments, this experience has stretched and shaped us individually and as a family more than any stay at home experience could ever hope to. In fact, I heartily recommend you, yes you, buck security and comfort for a spell so you can learn to appreciate what you have and insure you're not holding on to anything too tightly. If you are it'll loosen you up freeing you in the end. The way I see it is either you loosen up or life will force you to loosen up. Might as well be proactive.

Anyways, thanks so much for following us on our European adventure. As for this blog, it'll stay in cyber space but we won't be writing on it anymore. In the mean time, we're working hard to get the rest of our pictures online. Once we do, you'll be the first to know. If you're curious to see what's next for us as well as read our thoughts on this and that, please keep on following. We'll post the new blog address soon, so I guess we'll be writing here again after all.

The adventure continues.

John

P.S. Speaking of adventure, God went ahead and dumped a whack of snow here the other night. The locals are baffled but we're loving it, similar to the score in the hockey game last night.

Son Rullan

2008-11-27T05:27:00.000-08:00

Son Rullan. The l´s come together to form a y sound, in case you were curious. This has been our home for the past...1,2, 10 days already. Angie has already described the scenes so I´ll cover the rest.

My watch crapped out a few weeks back so the sun has become our wakeup call. When our room reaches a dull glow, we know its close to 8am or time to get up. Breakfast is served downstairs at 830am and usually includes coffee and fresh bread and pastries from the local bakery. Besides us 5 there are 4 other volunteers (who have been here over a month) and 2 full time people, our bosses. Angie already mentioned them but they deserve more air time. (This may bore you since I´m describing strangers to you but for us, they have become beautiful friends, ones we wish to remember)

Jorge is a 60 year old Argentinian who lives in a tool shed down the way. For the past 2 years he has leant his time and expertise to Son Rullan as well as doing small outside jobs to stay afloat. Jorge is a skilled builder but his real talent is cooking. We beg for him to cook every night and every few days he rolls his eyes, throws his hands in the air and says one of 7 english words he knows -okay. Typically his creations involve lots of meat cooked slowly over the fire and when I say meat, I mean MEAT. It isn´t until after the hand licking that he informs us what part of the animal our supper came from. Who knew glands could taste so good? Before we arrived another Canadian had been here for 2 weeks and in that time they had struck up a romance. She left the day we arrived but she and Jorge still stay in touch and he is actually flying to London next month to see her again. All of us know in our hearts that things between them will never last, (she is beautiful, eager to travel and 45) but we smile knowing that all we have is today so you go get here Jorge.

Ariel is also Argentinian (no relation to Jorge) and is 23. My first impression of him was a hippie for sure, jerk most likely. As time has passed I was wrong on both accounts. He only knows as much english as Jorge but his eyes light up whenever the group is gathered together eating and he´ll say - familia - gesturing in a circular motion to our kids. He plays his music loud and often, only Bob Marley or monkish spiritual. The first day I was ready to accidently break his Monk and Marley collection but it has grown on me and I now appreciate it and feel its power. One of my big regrets is I cannot communicate with him. I finally broke the ice the other night when we were sitting around the table. He was enaged in a conversation and I was sucking back on my wine (it flows like water in these parts, and is just as cheap) all of a sudden I just lifted my glass and yelled - Canada! It was dumb and random but he loved it, laughing hard then he lifted his own cup and yelled - Argentine! Since then its been good.

Maria is a 30 year old with a quiet soul. She was a Pharmacist in Barcelona for 7 years before realizing she hated her job (and life). Despite investing 12 years in Pharmacy (5 in school) she left it all and came to Son Rullan to rebuild her life. She has a rich soul and talking with her is a pleasure. Teasing her, even more pleasure. She has already picked up on the fact that I like to talk and entertain and one night she finally looked at me as we sat around the fire and said teasingly - you don´t like quiet, do you? haha. oops. Despite her love of quiet we´ve had many conversations about life, careers, spirituality. She´s a good egg.

And then there´s, Tom, a 45 year old German. Angie called him my philosphy buddy and I guess he is. The first day I arrived we were put together for work and have been together ever since. Tom has made my time at Son Rullan incredibly rich. Although our jobs each day are physically draining we spend most of the time discussing spirituality (while we work) so it goes by fast. His spirituality is anything but conventional, but I have still learned a ton from him. The truth is, I have needed a Tom in my life for years, someone I can just spew my spirituality onto and not be judged or misunderstood. Our talks have been epic and usually carry on long after the day´s work is done. Speaking of work, he has quietly taught me to pace myself, SLOWLY, he says. I tell him that in North America, slow is a 4 letter word, (which it is actually.) He nods knowingly and says its the same in Germany, but then he points to the beauty around us and says, enjoy. He is leaving today and I am surprised at how sad I am. We just exchanged emails though so I´m confident our conversations have just begun.

Last but not least are our bosses for the week, Henar and Everest. To say Henar rules the roost is an understatement. She is a 34 year old Spanish woman who exercises more assertiveness then 3 type A men. She zips around the house accomplishing this and that while still finding time to make her workers (that´s us) feel taken care of. She loves Son Rullan and puts all she has into it and because of that can at times seem over the top but its just passion, believe me, I know this passion. Everest is also 34 and is in charge of the work outside. He was born in Nigeria, moved to Spain, married in Soller (10 min away) and has worked at Son Rullan for 10 years. He functions opposite from Henar, very laid back, soft spoken unless politics come up then he turns into a mega church pentecostal pastor proclaiming his political rhetoric to all who will listen. One day he looked at Angie and said - excuse me, are you from Alaska? Angie looked confused until he said - hello Ms. Sarah Palin. hahaha. Not only does he thinks Angie looks like the almost vice president but sounds like her too. Since that day he hasn´t let up calling her Sarah constantly or asking her what things are like or how this and that compares to life in Alaska. Its great seeing your wife bugged by someone else, frees up more time for me to do other things. Today he let us off early at 1230pm. We usally work until 130 or 200pm. He said - just don´t tell the boss. haha, he´s great. And strong, man is he strong. I´ll be jackhammering and pickaxing trying to loosen rock (we´ve been building a chicken house into mountain rock) and he´ll watch me then finally saunter over and well, no more loose rock.

So there it is, Son Rullan. There is much more I could write about including the incredible meals, fires, trails, scenery, sheep, turkeys, even the unique jobs we do each day (Angie and the kids had to clean out the turkey coop the other day. For 3 hours she shoveled and raked through years of poop, mud, grime and poop. When she was done she wasn´t as thrilled as you might think.) Speaking of the kids though, I know its a faux pas to brag on your kids but I have to tell you, for 10 days, 8 of them working days, they have woken up early, then worked for 4-5 hours with very little complaining. When we first arrived, I think the jury was still out on the kids, whether they could hack it our not. After seeing how well and hard they´ve worked everybody sings their praises, gives them first servings at meal times and today Everest said - ok, kids, today you will do nothing. They looked at him blankly not registering until it finally clicked and they celebrated (a little to loudly) - yay, we don´t have to work today. Everyone laughed knowing they deserved a day off. Great kids I have. So easy to forget though.

We fly back to Canada in 6 days finishing our 2.5 month journey across Europe with another exhausting travel day. Bus to Palma, plane to London, bus to different London Airport, plane home. We are scheduled to arrive in Calgary at 9pm next Wednesday night. From there we will be staying with our good friends Hope and Darcy Pawlak until we will most likely head to Vancouver Island the following week. I say most likely because, believe it or not, our future (namely career) is still up in the air. Its a little unerving when we think about it. Seriously though, we should know the first week in December which job works out and which province we´ll be living in. Our preference would be the Island but as Tom says -the universe may have different plans. As long as the Universe communicates, we´ll be good.

If you have followed us this far, wow. Your presence with us via the blog has enriched our experience and we thank you for reminding us of home. If you have become addicted to our life, similar to characters in a TV show, you need help, seriously. Still, we will be continuing this blog as we begin our new adventure entitled - So I need a job, a house because I´m done travelling.

John

Spain in a nutshell

2008-11-23T10:19:00.001-08:00

"For me it is like heaven". That is what Henar, our host, said when she emailed us about volunteering out here and she was so right! We can´t connect our computer to the internet, so only have short little bursts to check our mail, which means posting Spain stuff after we´re back home. This is just me saying hi and that we are all healthy happy and loving our last two weeks here on our Spanish mountain.

I can´t even begin to describe this place with justice, but I´ll try. First of all, the mountains (mist shrouded mountains I might add) are lined with miles and miles of stone walls and paths, weaving in and out of the trees all the way to the top. These were built by the Moors I guess until 1290 and still standing strong (some of the olive trees are over 1500 years old!). This place we are in was built somewhere before then as well, then used as a monastery for a few hundred years before being left to ruin until rescued and brought back to it´s former glory. I don´t really have time, but I have to say something about this place! First of all, come here if you can.

We arrived lost and blurry eyed (John wrote on that, but can´t post it til later. I´ll just say our taxi driver refused to go any further up the mountain road and dropped us off in the middle of who knows where) walking in the pitch black night, feeling a little creeped out by the twisted gnarled trunks of the ancient olive trees (very Sleepy Hollw in the moonlight). We could here sheeps bells clanging along beside us, but couldn´t see them and went along like this for a good ten minutes until we finally saw the lights of what we hoped was the monastery. As we got closer we heard laughter and music coming from inside and knocked on the arched door with the giant iron knocker. Voices from inside yelled familia! Ninos! The door was opened and we were ushered into this huge and amazing stone floored, adobe plastered entryway with arched doors and winding staircases all over the place. We followed our new hosts down to the kitchen that couldn´t be more cozy if you got Disney to sketch it out, with a huge sit in fireplace lined with pillows and benches where they brought us wine and food and babied the kids (and us). You have no idea how nice this was after our twelve hour day of traveling (broken mini van, train, metro, plane, mean and uncooperative taxi drivers and way too much walking)

This is the kind of place with hidden rooms (even a passageway between walls) that lead into other rooms that lead to staircases that wind to the top of the house where there´s a terrace overlooking the sea. It´s crazy. There are some original paintings on some of the walls (is it only me that cares about that???) and when you walk out into the mountains there are strange round stone huts that date back to the dark ages. I can hardly stand it!

We work very hard for five hours a day (weekends off), but they have been great about finding work that the kids enjoy. Lots of burning things in bonfires and picking olives and getting the gardens winterized. When we come in for lunch at two we´re starving and the table is loaded with delicious hot food and wine. After that we do whatever we want, so I think it´s a great set up.

Then there´s the people. It´s an amazing little community here, people staying as long as they want to help (Jorge from Argentina has been here for two years and built himself his own tiny little cottage) and others that, like us, stay for a couple of weeks. John´s found a philosophy buddy in Tom, a 45 year old German guy that´s been here for a couple of weeks longer than us and Maria and Eva- two super sweet and funny girls we sit around the fire with every night. It´s been a great way to meet people from all over, preparing meals together and working every morining. We feel like we´ve known them for ever!

There´s so much more I´d like to say, but it will have to wait. Hi to all of you and see you soon!

Angie

somewhere in Spain

2008-11-15T13:03:00.000-08:00

Well, cruise days are officially over. We’ve gone from someone putting a napkin on our lap when we sit down for dinner to sweaty hiking and hand washing stained clothes that will never be clean again and eating bread and more bread. Becky took me for a pedicure when we were on the cruise. Chocolates were on our pillows every night. There was lobster. John also surprised me with a facial- my first since after Maddie was born, although now I think I got ripped off on that one. Who knew that it could take over an hour to wash your face? And that it could put you into an almost hypnotic trance and leave your skin feeling baby fresh? (I also didn’t know that they wash your arms when you get a facial. It seemed so random, like getting a free nose rub with your pedicure.)Of course, after wards she proceeded to inform me that my skin was troubled and imbalanced, talking about it like it was an unstable middle eastern country. When I told her what face products I use she shook her head and looked disappointed in me. Like here she had invested a good hour of her day only to realize I would mess it all up again with $15 cleanser. This is the problem with temporary luxury- as nice as it is, you feel like a bit of an imposter, just slightly undeserving. Anyway, super relaxing and rejuvenating and a world away from here.

Being in our little Spanish home, completely solar powered, chilly at night, cold showers, back to hand washing and eating… bread! But I love it. I guess I missed nesting, making soup and tidying up and hanging our laundry out in the hot Spanish sun (or French sun, Italian sun, English… drizzle). It feels good and homey, even though it doesn’t belong to us it’s our home for the week. My feet are a reminder of the luxurious oblivion of the cruise, London Red toes from Becky’s pedicure, matching the Spanish red dirt that’s in between them. I would take a picture except it’s kind of gross.

We went exploring yesterday, finding some abandoned farmhouses that were crumbling back into the ground. The guys that we’re renting from explained how kids inherit these places when their parents pass, but want nothing to do with them. They’ve moved on to the cities and forgotten about these little homes on the side of the mountain. It’s kind of sad because I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to live and if there’s anything I’ve learned about myself on this trip it’s that I’m no city girl. I’ve tried, and I’ve definitely appreciated certain aspects of the city life, but the most beautiful, friendly and genuine places we’ve been to on this trip have been the tiny out of the way towns that take a good long day to reach. To get to this place we took a train, a long walk, metro, another walk and train and then a taxi that got lost and cost us a small fortune. But so worth it.

Tonight we sat in the swing watching the sunset over the mountains with those Dr. Suess looking trees silhouetted against all the crazy colours. And the stars- you forget how many stars are actually out there until you’re one of seven houses on the entire mountain! We came inside and read by our one dim light, to conserve the battery needed for night time. I think John’s mentioned our super amazing hosts, but I feel I need to give them another plug. They’ve gone out of their way to help us out, driving us into town, taking us for coffee, bringing us wine (which you can buy here for 2 euros- what kind of joke is that???) and tomorrow they are making us paella and mussels and quince crumble from their very own quince tree. Plus, when Jeremy came down tonight to tell us they were out for the night, he didn’t bat an eye at John, who was crouched behind the plant in our living room. Jeremy just kept on talking until John stood up, red faced and explained that he was waiting to jump out and scare me. If you haven’t ever seen John embarrassed (a very rare occurrence) then you missed a good one tonight. It basically made my week.

So, as beautiful as Madrid was, this is where it’s really at. For me. I understand a lot of people really enjoy the night life and vibrancy of the city, and I do get it. But if I were to ever do this trip again, I would definitely stick to the little places. Aw- that sounded like such a concluding statement! Goodbye Europe… almost.

Angie

Dangerous treks

2008-11-14T13:07:00.000-08:00

It’s day 4 in our Villa. The weather is consistently 20 degrees, even at Christmas. Our hosts were complaining the other night about the recent cold snap, 16, 17 degrees. Poor English Spaniards. We live in a 2 bedroom villa below our hosts. They have been super helpful and understanding allowing us to barge in here at the last minute with no food or plan. We are very isolated here; the closest town (Macastre) is 4km away which is next door if you have a car and a half a day’s journey if you don’t. The isolation has been good, especially after a week of Rome and Madrid.

Our front door opens onto a deck overlooking mountains, valleys, forests oh my. We go for walks each day enjoying the red Spanish soil and abandoned houses discarded by unsentimental descendants. Angie has a deep connection to each one of the places, walking through slowly while commentating on this and that to nobody in particular. She wants to buy them all so she can restore them to their former glory. She’s like that with old buildings. To her, they’re still alive, they just need to be loved. I’ve had similar connections to old churches we’ve seen so we’ve learned to humor each other for the sake of the marriage.

We decided to take the journey to Macastre on foot. Our host said it was exactly 4km and "follow the main road.” But he also told us his dog wouldn’t come. The walk began fine albeit with the dog. Half way there, we started to have our doubts. We had run out of walking room which meant chancing it on the fast moving highway or walking in the vineyards, farmlands and mud down below. We chose both depending on how curvy the road was and how beautiful the vineyard looked. As time and 4km passed we still had the dog with no town in sight. The road had gotten curvier, and the valleys deeper which meant our walking space options were now limited to the dangerous highway. After 5km we finally saw the bend up ahead leading into Macastre. It was too late though. 5km one way is a long way for anyone let alone kids clad in crocs and a panicy mother. I had also thrown out my back the day before and was shaped like the letter S, a bi-annual occurrence, and while walking is the best thing for it, I’m not sure if 10k is what Dr.Kraft had in mind. I looked towards the bend and finally admitted what Angie’s body language had been shouting for a couple k’s “yeah, so guys, I’m not sure if this road is exactly safe, I think we probably should turn back.” Angie was already half a k ahead by the time I finished the speech. As we began our walk back I wondered how we’d make it.

Our plan had been to rest and shop and eat in Macastre, energizing up for the walk back. While I was wondering I saw a familiar car and low and behold it was our hosts. Thank God. We piled into their 4 seater car (there were 7 of us including the dog) and headed back home. They couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. It turns out they had been thinking about us after we left and had started to wonder. They later admitted they had never actually walked the road and certainly not with 3 young kids and a road dumb dog. Oh well, just another experience in a land far far away. We have 3 days left that will include more walks, more reading (I just finished the epic Pillars of the Earth and am breezing through the sequel) more movies, they actually have english films, and a trip into Valencia to see their world famous Sea World. We fly to Palma late Monday night. Less than 3 weeks left, can't hardly believe it.

John

P.S. We do have internet but our connection is turtle speed so its difficult to post pics. We have dozens more we want to show so be patient. Also, you'll hear from Angie tomorrow. Ciao.

Rome and Spain

2008-11-12T05:09:00.000-08:00

Hey folks. Sorry for the pins and needles but this past week has been . . . interesting. Angie has already told you tales of cancelled volunteer hosts and wanting to go home and while there was a solid 48 hours of discouragement (even anger, gasp) we’ve bounced back and are really looking forward to ending our adventure strong. As I type this I’m sitting unshowered, un laundried, and unshaven (last shave: Sept 20) on a “bullet” train (high speed) zooming towards Valencia at uh, let me check, 158 km/h. We’re fixed to arrive in 3.5 hours; a regular train would take 7. Poor Ethan, we told the excitable pre-scientist that the train went 220km/h, so for the past hour he’s been staring intensely at the digital speedometer waiting for the moment when we zoar over 200. A few minutes ago he shouted “we’re at 174 Dad.” At least he’s preoccupied though, because let me tell you, a bored Ethan is BAD NEWS. Yes Mom, I realize who his father is.

We decided on Valencia late last night after finally finding a vacant, fully loaded apartment outside a small town (Macastre) 30km west of Valencia, off the coast of Spain. (We’ve had unlimited internet at our hotel which has saved us, seriously) Nicholas, our apartment host, has been FANTASTIC even offering to pick us up???? There’s even a pool which received a collective cheer from our treis ninos. We’re staying for one week to make up for the cancelled volunteering opportunity and as Angie said, the price is ridiculously cheap. Seriously folks, come to rural Europe in October and November and you’ll find cheap luxury everywhere. (Speed update: Ethan just informed me we hit 198. Yay!!!) Once deciding on Valencia, we still had to, oh right, find a train. Not knowing the times or even if there was room I woke up early this morning, jogged to the station and was able to book a train leaving in 2 hours!?. Yikes. I ran back with just enough time to tell Angie, pack, pay and lead my family and our 9 backpacks (we began the trip with 7), to the train. We made it, we always do, but our disheveled look is once again our price.

Angie has deferred Rome to me. Thanks hon. She’s right of course; I have waited my whole life to experience this great city. We arrived in Rome the night before our cruise, I’ve already written about that so I’ll launch ahead to the three days we spent there after the cruise. Our first day in Rome was our best. We were coming off of Cruise leg so I intentionally planned an easy going day. We headed straight for the Pantheon, the architectural wonder of the world. As we walked through the streets of Rome I stopped and asked somebody “which way to the Parthenon?” He looked at me funny, most people do, but in this case it was because I was an idiot (mostly I am). “I mean, Pantheon, which way to the Pantheon? Sorry.” (The Parthenon is in Athens). We found it quickly, after passing by the very touristy Trevi fountain, and went inside. (yes Joan, I did the Trevi coin flip).

We stood inside for over an hour with craned necks and wonder, even the kids were impressed. The secret of the dome’s construction lies in the volcanic limestone they used (very light) as well as thinning out the dome’s walls the higher they built. The walls are 6 metres thick at the base and 2 near the crest. Bored yet? Sorry, I forget not everyone shares my unbalanced love of history (right Becky? ha). Anyways, I found it all fascinating as well as the slick drainage system in the floor, the one piece granite exterior pillars imported from Egypt, and Raphael’s tomb (not the ninja turtle).

After the Pantheon we were starving. We heard that there’s something called pee-tsa in Rome so we wandered a whole block before seeing a cheerful Italian kneading fresh dough (we needed some too, snicker). We stopped and gazed at him through the bay window and nearly wet ourselves when he put the prepared pizza on the shovel and thrust it into the stone oven. The pizza god finally noticed us staring at him, flashed us an awkward smile before continuing to make the world a better place. I quickly ran inside and ordered 2 HUGE for takeaway (European version of “to go.”) 20 minutes later we were making out with the pizza on the Pantheon steps. (sorry if its sounds crass but we kinda were). After the last crumb was gone we remembered Rick Steves saying that “the best coffee in Rome is right by the Pantheon.” Once again we only had to wonder a block. Tazza D’oro. This place has been roasting its own beans since coffee first came to Rome (400 years). The place was packed with locals, always the best sign when looking for quality, and we ordered a cup then a pound. I thought of my coffee loving friends Kyle, Troy and Martin and wished they were there to share the moment.

This post has already gone on too long and I’m only on the first day. Crimminy. I’ll summarize the rest. We finished off Roma day one by staring at the artistically rendered skulls and skeletons of over 4000 monks, at the Cappucin crypt. It was the oddest most fascinating thing these eyes have seen. The bones were arranged symbolically forming pictures of hope, love, redemption and of course, salvation. Unfortunately we weren’t allowed to take pictures but we did pick up some postcards. It was a great way to end off a great day. Our best day.
Day two we jumped on bus 23 and explored Trastevere (trahs-TAY-vey-ray). This stylish section is medieval Rome seen at its most modernly colorful. We strolled and ate good gelato a whole event in itself. We arrived back at our hotel (Alimandi) and Maddison and I ran out and found, you guessed it – more amazing pizza. The best places actually cut and weigh their pizza selling their narcotic by the gram. Buying pizza by the pound, can life get any better? Btw – for 10 euros, you can get enough pizza to feed 10 people, or 2 Chris Tyssens (haha, love ya Chris).

Day three was reserved for ancient Rome. We beheld the Coliseum before going on a downright disappointing tour of the Forum. It lasted an hour and a half and involved a Swedish host asking elementary questions (as a way to keep everyone involved) but the result was the Forum closed before we even went in. I’m serious; we didn’t even get to walk through the Forum on The Forum tour. We just saw it. “See that, that’s the forum? Neat eh?” Apparently the neat forum closes at 4:30pm, 4:30??? On a Friday?? I waited my entire life to see it. . . . Yeah I was mad. I finally calmed down knowing I’d be back one day. Rome was by far my favorite big city. On the taxi to the airport we drove out on the Appian way, the world’s first Deerfoot. Roma. Fascinating history combined with delicious pizza and ice cream, who could want for anything more?

Anyways, it’s November 12 now and we’re sitting in our villa in remote Spain, where we’ll be hanging out for the next week. The other night our very gracious and English host offered to drive me into town so I could stock up on groceries. I bought 2 cart loads which should last us the week. It cost me 60 euros, or 2 meals at a cheap restaurant. Our place is fantastic, amazing view of the mountains, lots of cats and a very sweet dog named lady. The animals have decided to live with us for the week which is great for the kids especially since they’re been really missing Hugo and Rusty - although a cat just crapped on our bed while I was writing this so perhaps not. Our hosts, Nick and Jeremy, are two blokes who moved here for the view and couldn't be nicer or more helpful. (funny eh, Nick and Jeremy). We head for Majorca on November 17th where we volunteer - picking olives at Son Rullan until we fly back to Calgary December 4. We decided to cut our trip a few weeks short due to the fantastic euro.

And there you have it, we’ll be in Calgary for several days. Hear that Hope? Ha. See you soon everyone. We’ve missed you all very much.

John

Quick Update

2008-11-09T15:37:00.000-08:00

Just a quick update, since it's been so long! We flew into Madrid after three days in Rome only to find that the first place we were supposed to volunteer at was having some problems. Problems with harvest and health and just about everything else, poor people, so it wasn't the best time for us to come and help. This sent us into a bit of a panic, because here we are in beautiful but expensive Madrid with no where to go. We tried a few other places that weren't too excited about having a family of five move in to "help" (we know how it sounds) and even checked into flights home. This would be the worst way to end our little adventure, of course, a total anti-climax and we were pretty bummed about it until we found a little apartment to rent on the coast of Spain until our next volunteer place opens up. It sounds pretty fantastic, actually, with a pool, hiking trails, vultures, a kitchen (and a nudist beach- yes!)- all week for the cost of one night in Madrid (OK, maybe one and a half, but still). So, back to our Europe adventure, no sad ending where we arrive in Calgary two months early with our head hanging. And we still get to pick olives (we're not giving up on this volunteering thing, we're very slow learners).

Madrid is stunning, though, I feel I should say that. It deserves more than a quick disappointed mention. I feel like I'm always looking up, because everything is so decorative and elaborate, especially the rooftops (elephant gargoyles? I love elephant gargoyles!) We took the kids to the best park we have ever been to. Really, park isn't even the word. I guess it's where the king used to lounge and row his boat and stroll by the many fountains. It was full of people laying on the grass (in a nice, reading a book way, not drunkenly), kids playing, puppet shows, music, food, dancing. It was so huge and fun we're going back tomorrow before our train to Valencia.

I'll leave Rome to John. He's been waiting for Rome his whole life, so be prepared!

Ang

Cinque Terre Pics... a little late

2008-11-09T14:39:00.000-08:00

Putting these pictures on makes me all sniffly eyed for Vernazza, which felt like home to us instantly. These are mostly in backwards order, and sometimes in no order at all, but it was tricky and time consuming so don't complain! We loooooooved the Cinque Terre, especially Vernazza in all it's colour and grit. Enjoy!

On our way to Manarola. By far the easiest hike.

Manarola.

Ababdoned house we explored on our hike to Corniglia. I was ready to move in!

The view from this place was crazy. It actually made my head spin.

Another view of Vernazza.

Behind our place.

The cats rule this town. That mat is his home, put out there by one of the store owners.

Pizza in Vernazza, just outside our room.

John the baptizer. In Monterosso.

Our little Vernazza.

Monterosso- beach town!

Arriving in Monterosso after a two hour hike.

We found a way to climb down to the ocean where we had a picnic (foccacia and pesto...mmm!)

On our way back up.

Corniglia!

Lex was pretty brave. This was from our temporary home town, Vernazza, to Corniglia.

My soul has a six pack by Becky

2008-11-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

I had to entitle my blog with that line because that is the new found joke of our little trip so far! The other day while John, Angie and I were sitting on lounge chairs watching the kids as they dipped in the pool a man walked by carrying a six pack….and I don’t mean in a cooler. I then asked John where his six pack was and that’s when we came up with the line ‘my soul has a six pack’. Maybe you had to be there to enjoy or appreciate it but we all had a good chuckle!
I must say the time on the cruise so far with the Close family has been fun, exciting, exhausting, and life altering. I will only mention a few things as I know that J & A will be sharing stories as well. I first have to mention about the first few hours that we arrived on the ship. We were all so excited to begin our cruise but we were also quite tired (and overwhelmed) of the tour through the Vatican earlier that day and then the wonderful planes, trains and automobile ride to the port in Civitavecchia.

Our first experience of ‘cruisin’ was the fantastic dinner! I don’t think the kids have seen that much food and Ethan amazed me (actually all of us) at what he ordered. His eyes were definitely bigger than his stomach but he ate it all as we heard about it later. I also sat next to Alexa and after she was handed the menu from our waiter Francis, she leaned over and said, ‘Ummm…I can’t read.’ We all had a good chuckle but ever since then, she is still handed the menu. I guess that is so she still feels like she’s a big person.

Mainly I have to tell you about our little fire drill that the ship goes through so we know what Muster station to go to in an emergency. After our wonderful meal we went back to the cabin to rest our bodies and settle our stomachs but Angie and Alexa went somewhere else or couldn’t find our cabin so they didn’t join us. Soon the Director of the ship announced that we needed to get our life jackets that are provided in our cabins and since Angie and Alexa weren’t with us I brought two extra life jackets so I could pass them off….of course, that was under the assumption that they would find us at the Muster station. After a while, John and I were sort of getting worried because we weren’t sure what happened to them and so we stood with Maddie and Ethan amongst hundreds of people wearing our life jackets. By this time Ethan’s stomach started to get sore and proceeded to mention that he was suffering greatly. Now, I’m trying to set the stage here because John and I were sort of laughing (amongst the worry) at the whole situation because we can’t find his wife and child, his son is crying in agony at the meal that could be eaten for a King and to top it off Maddie starts commenting that it would be a practical time for the ship to sink since we already have our life jackets!! Ummm…ya, except for your mother and sister who are lost somewhere on the ship without theirs!! Let me remind you that this is within 24hrs of us hanging out together and we still have another 12 days or so to go! Wow…that was an eye opener. Haha Chaos at its finest! Thankfully Alexa was with Ang because she helped her find where our cabin was!

The other stories that stand out for me are two things…gambling and singing. Now, I can only speak for myself at this point and I’m not much of a gambler but I sort of understand the concept of the slot machine…or so I thought. Angie thought it would be a great idea to just ‘try’ the Casino experience on the ship and I was game (no pun intended) but we had to convince John a little. So, picture this if you will - 3 adults in their 30’s wanting to play some slot machines. Not much of an ordeal don’t you think? Ha! First I should say that the children were at Camp Carnival at the time and they wouldn’t be allowed in anyway but why would we want them to witness what we lived through. The three of us are walking around the Casino (which isn’t really big at all, probably about less than half the size of the church building but I probably shouldn’t compare it to a place of worship….but you know what I mean) like the blind leading the blind. We don’t know where to get the coins or tokens or whatever you use, we don’t know the difference between quarter slots and dollar slots, the black jack dealer who wasn’t busy at the time had to help us with how to USE the machines and finally we just wandered aimlessly about till we asked for help. I’m sure the dealer thought we have been living under a rock because we knew nothing about the whole Casino experience. I didn’t want to gamble much but it didn’t really matter cause I lost it all in about 3 min, Angie won some quarters and I was so excited and the first comment out of my mouth was, ‘hey, we could use that money for the laundry facilities they provide here!’ We were all so excited about that but then Angie lost all that money too. It was short but it sure wasn’t sweet.

As far as the singing goes….well, I’m not sure if all of you know that I had been on a cruise earlier this year but at that time I had the pleasure of experiencing the wonderful art of Karaoke! At that time I won a contest and had to sing on stage at the end of the trip. Now, the last trip I was on a cruise the guests were a little younger than they are on this trip, to the point that I would say easily less than 20% of the people here don’t have to put their teeth in a cup at night! The atmosphere is a little different but John, Angie and I wanted to do some singing or rather, they wanted to see me sing and shake a bon-bon like I did on the last cruise. I have stepped up to the plate to sing a couple times and even tried out for the Karaoke contest but thankfully didn’t win. I will say though….if I hear Frank Sinatra’s ‘My Way’ one more time I might pull my hair out. Actually, I think Angie and I could do a wonderful duet on that one.
Oh yes and Angie has been trying to teach me some pick up lines that I should use to try to find that ‘special someone on the trip’, you know, to make it more exciting! Not only is the selection quite slim (and ew!) but her opening line will have me drunk the whole time and they’ll have to carry me out of here heading straight to a detox facility.
No wait, one more story…..it’s just too cute. We were sitting at the dinner table the other night and I asked John if his meal was ‘mouth-watering good’ and a few minutes Alexa thought she would ask the same thing but it came out like this: ‘Hey dad, is your steak ‘watermouth’ good?’ Too cute!
Overall, it has been lots of fun and we are enjoying each day more and more. The sites are fantastic and at times overpowering with all that there is to take in what with the culture, sites, sounds, language and smells. Hanging with the Close family has been great and the kids are doing so well. It’s also physically taxing sometimes on the 3.5+ hours of walking so I think the kids are doing fantastic. I don’t think I’ve heard them complain once about having sore feet (that’s more me) or being tired or bored….they are just amazing. It’s been a trip of a life time and I’m thankful and blessed to experience it before I have to put my teeth in a cup.

Becky Hammond

Cruisin

2008-11-02T09:35:00.000-08:00

Cruises. A sequined dream life and a hefty dose of reality on one big floating city. If you want the truth, at first it was a bit of an adjustment. Not the yummy food and the made up beds and clean laundry- that’s pretty fantastic. But the glitzy consumerism, the photographers that make you pose with show girls and gladiators, the line up of big bellied people in robes limping through the pizza stand at three in the morning. We expected some of this of course, but have you seen Walle? Just saying.

There’s a lot of fun to be had on a cruise, but different kinds of people like to have different kinds of fun. I, for example, enjoy a good book and a cup of coffee. Dud city, I know. I’m embarrassed to say that the first thing I did after getting settled was go in search of the library and the coffee bar, while everyone else flitted about with tropical drinks and headed to the casino or the pool (eventually we spent- and lost- $10 each at the casino, at my suggestion, so I’m slowly conforming). It’s not that I don’t want to have this kind of fun. I want to laugh when the bleach blonde cruise director makes another lukewarm, off colour joke. I want to enjoy watching a dozen Asian men impersonate Frank Sinatra during karaoke (and the exact same song- seriously. Watching Becky do her thing totally makes up for it). I want to stop sneaking out of the auditorium every time they threaten to randomly pick people from the crowd to go on stage and do things like drop a spoon down their dress or yodel. Why can’t I get into that kind of thing? Guess I’m just not prime cruise material and I feel kind of bad about it.

I get to see Turkey and Greece, though, which was the entire point of this cruise. Plus I’m trying to be less judgmental (working on it). This is the sort of place I would, I’m ashamed to say, love to mentally tear to shreds the moment I walk in the door (while secretly loving the warm chocolate melting cake and wondering what animal our towels would be folded into when we get back to our room. I’m totally aware of the hypocrisy). But then I sit in the hot tub while we watch a movie on the big screen under the stars- how can a person not love that? Or I take the kids to Camp Carnival, which is like a cross between Disneyland, summer camp and Mad Science. John loves the bean bag toss (John and Becky are the champs, at least in my mind. Aw.) Or we walk around the deck at night with a glass of wine or order room service at midnight just because we can.

I also notice the other people on board. Like the older lady pushing her husband in a wheelchair and I wonder if maybe this is a gift from their kids or their last trip together or just a simple way for them to see some other places in the world. There are some couples on their honeymoon, which is sweet. We met seven young Australians that are taking this cruise half way through their backpacking trip around Europe (one of them sings some pretty mean Elton John, with some dance moves you should ask Becky about). A hippie that lives on a farm in Costa Rica congratulated us on our family trip (“I can tell you guys are some really far out people. Good for you!”) and also on our moving to Vancouver Island where, as everyone knows, you can get the best bud (his words, not mine). The lady at our table is an unpatriotic left wing Christian from North Carolina who takes her grandson on a cruise every year (John basks in her Bush bashing southern drawl every supper with a big grin on his face and has taken her grandson under his wing a bit). We met a couple in their eighties who incorporate the odd cruise into their travels and just returned from backpacking through Peru. Backpacking through Peru! At eighty! Followed by a cruise! Enjoy it all, I say. At least that’s what I want to say. And we have Becky, who is a walking lesson in uncomplicated fun. Cynicism free, which is refreshing. Karaoke with the old men and bean bag toss with John- that’s a girl who knows how to enjoy life wherever she is. Yay for Becky! She also has all our kids in her room at night, would you believe it. We keep insisting to take them back, at least we did once when she was out of ear shot. Just kidding.
And the stops aren’t too bad either. We just spent three days in Turkey where we saw Ephesus (even better than Pompeii, more on that from John), swam in the Mediterranean Sea, walked barefoot through the Blue Mosque and pushed our way through the crowds at the Grand Bazaar. Seriously, that place is crazy. Men shouting over each other at the money exchange, women in head to toe black, everyone inviting you into their shops “just as a friend” (a friend who wants you to drop ten grand on a silk carpet). And, the food. We found the yummiest little shop where the guy pushed three stools up against the wall (the whole bazaar is inside and very crowded) and brought us some kind of savory meaty wraps and fresh squeezed pomegranate juice. Later we bought the lightest, freshest most moist and flaky baklava that made me sad for all the sticky heavy goopy, too sweet excuses for baklava back home. Sad little Canadian baklava. We bought an extra box to take back on the ship. I should add that it broke my heart to try baklava in Greece. After Istanbul I thought that Greece’s sweet little pastries would just blow my mind. Nope. Safeway special all over again. I think I cried.

I did have the most amazing dolmades in Athens, though, but I think that most people aren’t as passionate about food as I am, especially when they’re not the ones eating it. So I’ll leave the two paragraph long description for another time. Just three words: succulent lemony goodness.
The day after tomorrow is Florence. It still feels wrong to say things like that. Like I’m saying tomorrow I take my private jet to a palace on Mount Kilimanjaro where I’ll mine for rare golden diamonds. That’s how crazy this whole trip feels.

The cruise has been a teacher for these two quick to judge, slow to drop stereotypes people. It’s fun. It’s nice to be pampered. Admit it- you like it too. As for the stuff I’m uncomfortable with, like the overpriced jewelry and the bad music? I guess I need to leave some room for slight sarcasm, and who better to pass it on to then John? Just keep it in check, Angie, just keep it in check.

Tonight- the Jive Jump and Wail and group Halloween games. Bring it on, Carnival.

Angie

Vatican, Pompeii, Ephesus and Athens.

2008-11-02T09:31:00.000-08:00

Note: Internet on our cruise costs .75 a minute so we’ve used it sparingly (check Oilers scores etc.) That being said, Angie and I and Becky too, have been journaling and what exists below is a week’s worth. My post focuses on the wonders of The Vatican, Pompeii, Ephesus and Athens while Angie and Becky will entertain you with stories of Istanbul and the cruise. It’s a lot, a ton actually, but as always, you don’t have to read ok, jk. We’ll be posting a slew of pictures when we get to Rome in a few days. Our hotel will have free internet. If you don’t have time to read, please know, we are all doing quite well and although we have begun to experience the dreaded travel fatigue (it’s been 6 weeks now) we have navigated through it fairly nicely and look forward to our final month volunteering in Spain. The cruise couldn’t have come at a better time actually. Once again, thank you Calgary CofC, for your part in making this cruise happen. We love and miss you all!!!

John

As our funky tour guide irreverently informed us about the history of the world’s wealthiest business / church, I couldn’t help but feel angrily impressed. On the one hand, the sheer splendor of The Vatican is mind boggling. For a place (a country actually) with nearly 2000 years of history, millions of individual cathedrals/ churches, billions of paying customers/followers (although rapidly declining in recent years), and a net worth of over a trillion dollars (give or take) it’s hard not to be impressed. Still, many skeletons fill the Vatican’s closet -some are unavailable even to the paying public lined up outside its walls (the average wait time is 2 hours to tour the museum -close to 4 in peak season, which is why we booked a tour- 5 min wait time) so I went in with mixed feelings. The tour lasted a few hours but by the end I felt the effects of trying to wrap my mind around 1700 years of religious history and art. After the 239th statue I was beginning to feel like I was one, minus the interesting crotch.
The climax was the Sistine Chapel (of course) where I learned that Michelangelo not only resented having to do the job, he painted himself into the ceiling as a way of saying “I’d rather be sculpting.” The chapel lived up to its reputation though and my craned neck is still recovering. Pictures are prohibited in the chapel because the camera empire Nikon has copyrights to the paintings. Yep. I’m serious. So I say boycott greedy Nikon. Anyways. We were exhausted by the end of the tour and so we decided to save the world’s largest church (St. Peter’s Basilica) for next week when we return to Rome for 3 days. Later that evening we boarded Carnival Freedom –thus beginning our 12 day Mediterranean Cruise.

First stop, Pompeii. 1930 years ago the rich residents of Italy’s Pompeii were minding their own posh business when they heard a fierce explosion. The initial eruption had shot volcano guts 12 miles into the sky giving our Roman friends just enough time to finish supper before realizing that they were about to die. The earliest realizers decided not to take any chances with this foreign ash (our ancient friends had no idea they were living at the foot of an active volcano) so they hightailed it out of there. The easy going rest procrastinated too long. Their almost surprised expressions have been captured brilliantly by plastering archaeologists. As I stood over their plastered forms (now encased in glass) I felt an enthralled embarrassment as I looked down at their final moments. Teeth, bones, skulls were not only visible but still intact. The ash had done its work well preserving them for nearly 2000 years and keeping them hidden for 1600 years before being accidentally discovered (as most of these places are). Most people assume Pompeii was done in by hot seeking lava, nope, that was Herculaneum, the next town over. The residents of Pompeii were done in by poisonous volcanic gases. The said ash buried and preserved them -as is- giving today’s world the most complete and accurate information on the life and times of a first century Roman. Walking through this town was more than surreal. It was super surreal. (nice one John)

Most of the houses are still intact, minus the roofs where the ash piled, including the frescoes on the walls and mosaics on the floors. One particular mosaic, on the floor of Pompeii’s largest home (a massive 27,000 square feet) displayed in grand fashion the Victory of Alexander the Great. Its 1.5 million individual tiles -each one the size of my pinky finger nail- was impressive to say the least. In some places, the preservation was so complete it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe the house was left vacant just last year – this was especially true in the bathhouse and brothel. The bathhouse was fantastic - containing a change room with ancient lockers, a warm section where steam was piped through the floors creating a first century sauna experience; a cold section where the residents could cool off under the splash of the fresh water piped in thanks to the smart aqueduct system (we also saw some of the original lead piping). The technology in the bathhouse was impressive right down to the perfectly placed window allowing a ray of sunshine in each day (Angie took a great picture) and the ribbed ceiling preventing the condensation from dripping back down on the bathers, which, I know... I hate that.

I mentioned the ancient brothel which, I’m here, I paid, might as well go in, right? So I did. As I entered this small room I quickly discovered where most of the tourists were. Many were suppressing grins while others were openly laughing at the graphic wall paintings advertising the different services offered. There were 6 stone stalls still containing the original beds and pillow places (minus the mattresses and linens thank God). Not a lot of privacy I noticed and the acoustics were unfortunately brilliant. The brothel was just around the corner from the local bar which was… convenient. The other Pompeian highlights were: a small amphitheatre, temple ruins, first century fast food joints (seriously) and the public toilet. The level of sophistication in this town surprised me and I was reminded once again that ancient doesn’t mean inferior.

A few days later we went to Ephesus. If there had been a “Top Ten Cities of Antiquity”, Ephesus would have been in the top 5, maybe even top 3 after Rome and Athens. As I’ve said before, we signed up for this cruise largely for the ports of call or stops along the way. Although I knew Izmir, Turkey was one of our stops, I had absolutely no idea that it was only 30 minutes from Ancient Ephesus. When I discovered it I told Becky and we danced the Ephesus jig. It needs work. Anyways, we decided to go against our travelling principles and book a professional excursion with the cruise line instead of wing Ephesus on our own. With only 6 hours to see Ephesus, including transportation there and back, we wanted every moment to count. It ended up being great as our Turkish Tour Guide was both a gentleman and a scholar not to mention very passionate and proud of his heritage. He spouted Turkish history and politics on the way there and back as well as the Ephesus tour so we all felt like we got a super sized excursion. Anyways, Ephesus.

For the sake of your time and mine I won’t go into all the history surrounding this great city. Basically, it was a major port town for about 600 years leading up to the time of Christ. As the sea began to recede, so did the ships, its primary business. This caused most of its residents to pack up and move to the next city over leaving Ephesus 1, as our tour guide called it, to slide into decay. As time passed a Roman Emperor decided to resurrect it but built it inland between 2 mountains (his reason was not just practical but religious as he hoped to keep the Ephesians away from Artemis and her holy temple) The people complained, as people do, but in the end they gave in (as people do) and made the mountains their new home. This became Ephesus 2 or the Ephesus from scripture that we all know and have read.

As we stepped off the bus I was greeted by the said mountains and hundreds of men and woman desperate to sell their touristy and always tacky Ephesus wares. Our strong guide bulled his way through the mob creating space for us to follow. Our tour had begun. For the next 3 hours I walked through the town I had only studied in seminary and read about in Acts, Revelation and of course Ephesians. I saw it all, its houses, shops, shrines, temples, statues, altars but if I had to choose my top 3 it would be the marble streets we walked on, the library ruins and of course, the amphitheatre where Paul’s companions were tortured in hopes of smoking out Paul. Paul had wanted to come out of hiding and preach to the raging crowd, but it was too dangerous. You can read all about it in Acts 19, as I did to Angie, Maddie and Becky as we sat and took it all in. The theatre’s design was impressive allowing room for 25,000+ but even better, allowing each of the twenty five thou to hear what the speaker below was saying. One eccentric lady with Shakespeare in hand tested the acoustics repeatedly until finally a local from the same level as us, yelled out the words we all wanted to say “shut up, crazy lady.” Haha, poor embarrassed lady walking away all dejected, she had probably waited her whole life to spout Shakespeare in Ephesus’ theatre (no connection between the two by the way).

The streets of marble were breathtaking, especially the main one leading from the town gate to the great library, even more so as our guide reconstructed the buildings, statues and shrines along its way. The marble has either been taken or worn right down so imagination is key, although in some spots the original remains. As I sat on the library’s steps and looked down the road I realized how beautiful this city must have been. It would have glowed, literally. Once again, Angie took some pictures so you’ll have to check them out. Becky too. (I mean check out her pictures, although she’s pretty impressive too- and single). The library ruins is the structure seen on most Ephesus postcards and for good reason. Even the illiterate would be impressed. At its steps, ancient philosophers would hock their thoughtful wares giving the ancient Ephesians intellectual exercise. I asked the guide if Paul would have hocked his and he said probably not because he would have been killed. Haha, fair enough. One thing that was very apparent was that the cult of Artemis was not only present but integrated smoothly into every aspect of daily life. She was the supreme goddess and deserved total devotion and loyalty. (For all the history lovers - she is called Diana by the Romans and Isis by the Egyptians).

Anyways, as I learned more I felt greater respect for Paul. He was insane to spout off about Yahweh in a land loyal to Artermis alone and he is lucky he made it out alive. (It’s like me trying to convert to the mobs of the Saddledome to the Oilers, kinda). Anyways, at the end of the tour, after we had walked for 3 hours taking in hundreds of buildings, statues and sites our guide looked at us and said “and to think, only 17% of Ephesus has been excavated.” It is one of the seven ancient wonders for a reason. I’ll never forget it.

We went to Athens yesterday and if it wasn’t for the surprisingly huge crowds (in November??) and scaffolding (they are restoring the Acropolis) I would have put it right up there Ephesus. That being said, even a crowded and under construction Athens is remarkable and we had a great day including a walk through the Agora (Acts 17) and a Greek lunch in legendary Plaka. Angie loved the food so much I started to get stuffed vine leaf envy. Anyways, I’m tired of typing which, if you made it here, you must be really tired so I’ll write more later. Tyler asks me how we can type so much on our holiday. I think about how much we’ve taken in and how my heads hurts and wonder “how can we not?” We are truly blessed and are grateful for this one in a lifetime trip. Thanks for sharing it with us, it means the world.

John

John's in Rome.

2008-10-24T13:18:00.000-07:00

One month in. There was a lot of wonder and awe the first 3 weeks but this week, humanity – their enemy, has finally crept in. On one level it’s hard to believe because we’re in The Cinque Terre, the place where, “it’s impossible to take a bad picture.” Yet, here we are, getting all human. It’s an inevitable shame. Travel anywhere with anyone for this long and all the scenery and gelato in the world won’t prevent it. So, adjustments are made, pace is slowed and tours are cancelled for the sake of the kids. But mostly, understanding is deepened recognizing castles and cathedrals do not interest all, especially the cave explorers and swimmers. Learning to forsake history's past for the the present has been a good lesson for me this trip. Anyways, that’s my part in the humanity.

Tomorrow we’re head for Rome. Over the next 2 weeks, we’ll spend 4 days there as part of a Mediterranean Cruise (we are shamefully longing for). Our friend Becky Hammond will be joining us too which will be great. The cruise couldn’t have come at a better time. We’re not cruisey people but after 5 weeks with 7 backpacks, 4 outfits and 0 hotels, an all you can sit, eat, enjoy, floating pleasure island will be fantastic. Back to Rome though. I’ve wanted to go ever since, as a fourteen year old, I realized I loved ancient history. I have spent hundreds of hours leisurely reading about Julius and the Caesars of Ancient Rome. I say leisurely because Angie is always bugging me because I read “textbooks???, why would you want to read textbooks, and for fun?” So, to think that over the next few weeks I’m going to actually walk where the Caesars walked (and murdered), behold the Forum, Pantheon and Colloseum, see the actual chains that held the Apostle Peter and the prison that held Paul, wander through the catacombs, tour the Vatican and other ancient museums and oh yeah gaze upon the glory of the Sistine Chapel, David, Moses and everything else Michelangelo, I can barely contain my excitement. Plus I hear there's more pizza and gelato here.

Angie has graciously given me the green light to plan everything Rome (while at the same time reminding me that I will have a family which includes some pretty young kids tagging along, ha) so over the next 24 hours I have to painfully pick and choose, what to see and WHAT NOT TO SEE?? ARRGGH. The truth is, we’ll probably only have enough time to see everything listed above quickly which means I’ll be flipping my coin in the Trevi Fountain. (The legend goes if you throw a coin in the fountain it will insure your return trip to Rome) Anyways, we’ve all had parts of the trip we’re especially looking forward to and Rome is definitely mine. That being said, Florence, Greece, Turkey, Spain, Naples and Pompeii (Maddie’s favorite) will be ok to. I guess.

John

P.S. I wrote this last night so here's a quick update. We finally arrived in Rome at 3:30pm today, met up with Becky at our hotel which is maybe a stone's throw away from the entrance to the Vatican Museum. We showered up, not me and Becky, and then headed out for an evening Roman stroll beginning at The Forno (famous pizza place, the charge by the gram.) We were all starving so I bypassed the grams and bought pounds instead having no idea the cost. It was 7 euros, I nearly fell to my knees in worship. As we walked we chewed our slices of heaven while beholding such things as the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps and oh a little place called The Pantheon. We hadn't planned to tour the Pantheon today but rounding the corner, there was the Pantheon. It was the most remarkable building these eyes have ever seen. We will tour it for real at the end of our cruise. Anways, before the Pantheon we stopped at Tre Scapilino and ate their world famous death by chocolate thing. Haha, I'm exhausted and can't remember the title but it was 5 euros per piece and the best 5 I've ever spent. TS boasts its chocolate thing is the best in the world and it is. I can't even describe to you how delicious it was, but its just behind the Pantheon so we're going back. Oh yes, we are. We ended our stroll, one block from the Spanish steps at one of the world's most lavish and largest McDonalds devouring hamburgers and fries for the first time in 5 weeks. After we finished Alexa looked up and said "this was my favourite part of Rome." I smiled at her, called her a blasphemer then spanked her right then and there.

Anyways, our mile long stroll through Rome was incredible and my eyes got misty more than once as I beheld this magnificent city I have only seen in my dreams. This time tomorrow we will be on a gigantic floating island scoping out the Meditteranean for 12 days. Italy, Greece, Turkey then ending with 3 days in Rome where I'll wander in awe once more. I've said to the kids that these will be some if not the best days of their life. I hope they are. John's in Rome. AHHHHHHH!!!

Bella Familia

2008-10-21T10:48:00.000-07:00

Wow. Italy. What made Italy especially striking to us was the contrast. Coming from France, beautiful, tidy, quiet, where you eat dinner slowly and people dress elegantly but conservatively (we would play spot the colour on any given France street- most people wore black, grey, brown and cream. All cashmere, of course). Then to get off a train where people are calling out to each other from their balconies, patting our kids heads and remarking “Bella familia!” boisterously, clothes hanging from every window, sixty year old women in leopard print (and some in head to toe black with kerchief, so I guess it’s all accepted here), people sitting outside cafes laughing so loud you feel like you’re at a carnival. From France’s grey stone houses to Italy’s pink, yellow, tangerine sorbet paradise. And even more eye opening is to go from England’s reserve, to France’s decorum to being hit on the head with Italy’s open armed joy. It’s quite the experience.

We walk down the street (there’s only one, and many, many twisty narrow alley’s) and see old ladies arm in arm who always stop to say something in Italian, patting me on the arm, patting the kids heads or just smiling. The old men are always sitting on benches smoking- and I think they’re the most happy go lucky old men in the world. They chat and laugh and call you over so you can chat and laugh too. They all love kids here- the older people, the young couples, the guys on motorcycles. They always stop to smile at them and then at us, like they’re congratulating us for… what? Having a family? Which I’m assuming is tied into the whole emphasis on family here. People that live here can trace their family history back hundreds of years to this same town and often same houses. Families live together, cook together and run businesses together. And in a sense, this little town of 500 is like a big family itself.

When we arrived without a key yesterday someone yelled down from their window, “You want in Martina’s place? I’ll give her a call for you!” When we needed a kettle for our can’t do without coffee, Martina’s parents and brother called us into their place, come come, buzzing around us like bees trying to round up what we were looking for. We ended up with some fifty year old bunson burner type deal and a bunch of plastic spoons, but mostly we just ended up feeling like the people here are the most laid back happy people we’ve met. The next day we asked if they had a cork screw and they gave us a bottle of their home made wine to go with it. So nice!

Of course, this is not to reflect poorly on England and France, which we loved, only differently. And not that these little Italian towns would remain pure bliss if you were here for longer than five days. I could imagine a few potential problems. Namely privacy, a thing we value a lot in our big spacious country. Our bedroom and bathroom windows open about a foot away from the windows across from us and we can hear the people preparing breakfast in the morning, talking, arguing, walking. There are other windows, jutting out beside ours and across from ours at all imaginable angles, all five stories down. And that’s just how it is for everybody. People lean out their windows, staring down at the street, sometimes calling down or waving, sometimes just watching you completely without embarrassment. I just don’t think that would fly in Canada. I mean, we all want to stare at our neighbors and see what’s going on, but we’re much more discreet about it. Little peeks here and there. The odd how are you. None of this openly gaping stuff.

It’s also less groomed here than France (although to me this is an upside all the way). Gardens and lemon trees and flowers grow wildly, and in any nook or cranny they can find. Cats are everywhere, happy and fat, living off the leftovers that restaurants leave out for them, sleeping on the mats outside shop windows. On our hike yesterday we passed a picnic table with a cat sleeping on it and a make shift cat tent. Beside him was a bucket with a sign asking for food for these “homeless and unloved cats”. People leave pieces of pizza or baguette and the cats pick through what looks good to them. The kids have decided that Italian cats are happy cats, just like the people.

I want to talk about our crazy cliff hanging hikes and the impossible views and the scrumptious food and the twin Sicilian pastry makers that we go “visit” every morning and, how did we miss this- St. Emillion, the most beautiful (and the oldest) wine town in France that we spent the day in before our train to Vernazza. Whew! Don’t worry, I won’t get into it. Not now, but I can’t promise it won’t come up later.

On a deeply disturbing note… we’ve somehow lost our camera cord. Yes, it’s true. So, no pictures until we track down another one, unless… unless… someone sends one via Becky this week! Hm. Just a thought. We have a Canon G8 so. . .its the cord that goes from the camera to the computer)

Angie

Italians love

2008-10-21T10:33:00.000-07:00

Right now, I’m sitting in the jolly kid’s playground in the fantastic town of Vernazza one of the five (cinque) terre towns we’ll be visiting over the next five (cinque) days. While it would have been “neater” to hike between towns staying in a different one each night, we’ve somehow gained more luggage(no souvenirs, mostly books) and Ethan’s backpack has zipper issues and Angie has backpack issues which means I carry 2-3 packs at a time including the mammoth one on my back, so. . . I say forget what’s neat. Capisce? Vernazza is the crown jewel of the 5 so we have an apartment here and are hiking to the other 4 towns this week. (2 hour hike each way). We could take the 3-4 minute train but the amount of pizza and gelato we’ve been pounding back, gotta hike.

We arrived the other night after way too much train. We started off on an overnight train from Bordeaux, leaving at 1030pm. We reserved a sleeper (thank God and Angie) and I don’t know why but I had visions of something bigger. At the very least, fun. It was neither. No more than 8ft high and 6ft wide, it had 6 bunk beds and nothing else expect some poor old French guy who was the odd Close out. We arrived at the very dirty, crowded and not Nice (pronounced niece) station at 9am the next morning. None of us slept great (strangely the French guy slept amazingly) plus we were all starving so you can imagine how that went. Our next train left 90 minutes later – arriving in Genoa 3 hrs after - just 7 minutes before our third train pulled out.

We rode train #3 for an hour before getting off and boarding our final train, thankfully the shortest of them all. 14 hours, 4 trains, no sleep and ALL our luggage was enough to make us insane. We were grouchy zombies as we walked through beautiful Vernazza but somehow we found our apartment right away (a first) only to discover it was on the top floor which meant carrying all 8 bags up each and every one of the 70 steps to our apartment. Normally a walk like that up stairs that many would have been it, but after the kind of day we had I’m surprised we actually made it without someone losing their mind. As bad as all this sounds, it was probably worse. But. . . there’s nothing like personal space in the form of nudity and hot water and after all of us enjoyed both (privately in the form of a shower) we felt much better, said our sorries, had a group hug before proceeding downstairs (finally bag free).

We told Maddie she could choose the restaurant and she struck gold picking the best pizzeria in town. We devoured 3 “mamma mia oh how my heart pumps slower because of your greatness pizzas”, 2 helpings of Gelato each and my favorite – the local culture. I’ll let Angie and her gifted words paint the picture for you but let me just say this: While the French love what is beautiful, Italians love what is. . . Whether it’s the kind grandpa on the train helping our kids get off while patting them on the head and speaking passionate Italian, or the waiter laughing after asking the kids if they wanted wine too or the 75 year old who smiles from ear to ear every time we buy Gelato from him. Italians, especially Italians here, love what is. . .life.

The best though is Martina’s father, Guceppe. Martina is the woman we are renting our apartment from. When we arrived he must have seen us because he was right there and eager to help. He’s the town chatter, apparently, because every day on our stroll he’s sitting in the centre of town laughing and talking with everyone, including us, multiple times a day, showering us with gifts of grapes and homemade wine. Guceppe has grown up here you see, and this is his town which means all who come are his to care for. I have been humbled by his generous spirit and hope to learn from him this week. He, along with the other residents, love their life and this small town of 500 on the Italian coast has become a magnet for tourists everywhere (mostly the US and Germany). Here’s why. In general, people want a better life so they come to The Cinque Terre for its breath taking views, legendary hiking trails, mouth watering pesto, and party in your mouth gelato. They get it all but they end up getting something more, something they didn’t expect. A way of life. The challenge of course, is taking it home.

John

Au revoir France

2008-10-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

Goodbye France, hello Italy! France has been good to us, so here’s a few things we learned:

Rent a car. For sure. The public transportation, which was quick and easy and everywhere in England, seems to be almost non-existent in this area. Plus, with a car you can explore all the beautiful country side and listen to NRJ, the hilariously bad radio station that plays the same four ear popping, monotonous, pseudo dance songs all day long. It’s just so terrible we can’t turn it off.

Limit the restaurants. We love, love, love the food- eaten simply. We basically lived off bread and cheese and fresh fruits and veggies, but the few times we tried a restaurant we ended up with things like ham wrapped around lettuce and cooked in milk or a plate of… meat. Just meat in all it’s gristly, sausagey glory. Oh- and steak is generally partially cooked hamburger. Just a few things you might want to know.

At least try to speak French. This one’s cliché, I know, but the French will come right out and say, "You must try Francais. Come. Try." And then you feel like you’ve been scolded by your strict but nice teacher that you secretly want to impress. If they don’t encourage you to speak it, they can get plain old unfriendly. Maybe that’s worse, I’m not sure, but it’s best to just go in there and fumble through a few poorly spoken bonjour, trois croissant, sil’ vous plait. Merci- type words.Which brings me to my next tip- eat lots of croissants. Just stuff yourself. It’s the best advice on this page.

Get lost. John’s talked about this one, but I sort of want to drill it into your head. Some of our best discoveries have been unplanned: an abandoned tower where John’s leg fell through the third floor, an old roofless house covered in vines, caves and castles (I know, enough about that already), great little towns with chatty potters and bakeries on every corner, old monasteries and churches (which have always been very welcoming and friendly to us, in England as well). It’s nice to do the research and plan a few things, but save some days for just driving or walking.

Rent cottages. I can’t believe we ever considered anything else. So much cheaper, for starters, but they also become your little home where you cook and do laundry and each have your own space (including a yard where the kids can play- in this case a two acre yard with a pool!) Cottages here are often hundreds of years old and full of character and story, giving us a good excuse to not do anything for the day but light a fire and read a book. Say it with me: hotel shmotel.

It is possible to live out of a back pack. We each have maybe four outfits, (they can be layered or mixed up, but still- three cheers for us) Books have been the hardest thing to minimize, and we’ve slowly been accumulating more and sneakily stuffing them into our already bursting packs. But, for the most part, we’ve done without a lot of "needs". Mostly the needs that make you pretty. Or conveniences like extra socks and umbrellas.

TV? Don’t need it. We’ve discovered that our evenings go pretty smoothly without it. We do have a copy of Nancy Drew, that crazy sleuthing teenager, which we may possibly have memorized by now, but for the most part we are a TV free zone. We light a fire (sorry- John lights the fire after a half hour wrestling match inside the wood stove), make some coffee or open a bottle of wine, and read, chat it up, write our fancy blog, etc. I understand that for many this is a less than thrilling itinerary, but it’s right up our bookish alley and now all I can think is how many evenings I spent watching stuff that was, at best, mildly amusing (of course I’m not referring to time spent watching the best shows ever, like Arrested Development or Flight of the Conchords, which I miss in a really pathetic way. I say if it gives you a good hearty belly laugh or really makes you think, it’s worth it. But how many shows do that?)

Don’t worry about the kids. This is a multi layered one, because that’s what we do naturally- worry about our kids. A few things that stood out in my mind were: school work, friends, sickness, kidnapping. School’s been great, if unconventional. Lots of hands on stuff, even some workbook stuff on those stay at home days. They’ve met friends, but they’ve also become so much closer to each other. They play together all the time and when Alexa got money from the tooth fairy (the pretty French fairy who leaves Euros and forgets to take the tooth- oops) she decided to buy cake for her brother and sister. Aw. No sickness. No kidnapping. See? These things usually all work out. Which, coincidentally, is John’s motto.

Tomorrow it’s an overnight train to Italy. We’re in a sleeper with six beds and I can’t help but feel bad in advance for that poor sixth soul that will be occupying bed #6. In an enclosed space with our rambunctious kiddos. And John. (I don’t mention myself because, hey, I’m the quiet one!) Hopefully it’s someone who shares John’s motto. Or a Buddhist monk.

Angie

Angie is the man

2008-10-15T05:25:00.000-07:00

Angie’s the man. Yesterday she convinced us that the Indian Forest Perigord would be so much fun. The title didn’t exactly scream “loads of so much fun” so I was skeptical. After our daily swim, and another beauty detour (getting lost) we finally arrived. As we pulled in I noticed some other cars. Good sign. We piled out of the car and wow! High ropes, low ropes, nets, ladders, zip lines and best of all - Risk. After talking with the energetic host we determined that there were 4 levels or colors and our kids could go on the first two, jaune and blanc. Angie and I signed up for the same kiddie colors and after getting strapped we headed for the trees. I silently cursed for wearing my pants, not only did the straps ride wayyy up they created unsightly pant bulges in places you don’t really want bulges (or do you? Nope you don’t, says Ang.)

After a quick Frenglish safety course on how to fasten your safety clasps clips metal thingies and an even shorter course on how to fasten your pulley as you zip line 10 metres in the air - we were on our way. Seriously, NOT ONE LIABILITY FORM not even for the kids. All the dude said was “I’d recommend you keep your eye on her, maybe one parent in front the other behind.” Ha Ha?? For the next 2.5 hours the kids did all their own clasps, clips, pulleys and zip lining (we helped Lex in the beginning but by the end she was calling for her mother to hurry up). When they weren’t zip lining they were walking across swinging bridges and logs (think Indiana Jones) and even climbing upside down as the line carried them into the trees. The day went amazing well and I’m proud to say Angie was right, loads of fun was had by all. The last course was too intense for Lex and since we were all 20ft above her when we realized it we told her to, uh, hmm, take pictures with mom’s expensive camera? Check them out below.

Today we let mom rest again (as great as our cottage is, its bed hasn’t been kind to Angie) so we took off in no particular direction (hmm, in no particular direction, great book title). We ended up on the road to Lascaux, the site of more cave paintings. Instead of going we decided to find our own cave. After an hour of thistles, scratched legs and steep cliffs we headed back for the car. We ended up stopping off in St.Genies, a typical France village. We walked through their beautiful medieval church and then headed for the boulangerie (not the silky sleep wear, its French for “bakery”). A few swallows later we were back on the road headed home, excited to have fresh boulangerie bread for lunch.

As I write this the kids are outside checking out some bulls that have made their way up to our property. Lex just burst in all excited because one bull was climbing on another in some sort of game. I suggested it might be piggy back and she looked at me nodding like “how do you know?

Three days left in France. We leave for the Cinque Terre (Italy) Saturday night. Our first overnight train experience.

John

Forest Perigord Pics

2008-10-15T04:53:00.000-07:00

The view out our bedroom window most mornings.

Ethan on the low ropes. Mr. Brave graduated quickly to the high ropes, tarzaning through the trees.

Maddie was very confident leading the way.

Dont look down.

Ha Ha, little Lex all suited up.

The kids Swiss friends from next door leaf jumping.

Sensational cake from the local award winning chocolate shop.

The big frog I spoke about.

Lex and her smiley friend poolside. Lex is smiling like that because she wasnt sure her friend understood when Angie said SMILE.

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-10-13T04:43:00.000-07:00

Happy Thankgiving Everyone! We are thankful for all our wonderful friends and family back home. We read and treasure every comment and would love to respond to each of you individually but time and the fact that we do not have internet prevents that from happening. Please know we love hearing from you, and are thankful on this, thanksgiving.
We are celebrating by going out for a fancy French meal tonight. Poor french restaurant, they are about to be Closed, pun intended.

The Closes

P.S. I am particularly thankful that the Oilers won their first game!

Rocamadour

2008-10-13T04:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we spent the day doing a few random surprise things, which means we didn’t tell the kids where we were going, we just showed up. Our first stop was a mechanical toy museum with a huge selection of one hundred year old dancing, laughing, spanking and sometimes racially offensive dolls. It was actually quite interesting, although I can’t get those weird knitting Victorian dolls with the giant moving eyes out of my head. Shiver. So there was that.

Next was another water mill which has been making flour for the last 700 years. It was probably in the most beautiful spot we’ve seen yet, I’ll try to post a picture. One thing we love about Europe is the lack of safety regulations- if you see a cave, explore it, if the road is as wide as your car and jutting out the side of a cliff, be careful. The mill had all this creaky noisy machinery going on all over the place, water rushing through open places in the floor, one and a half ton stone wheels spinning 80 times a minute right there in the open, everyone touching the flour and throwing it back in the bin. It’s the real deal, giving us more freedom (and a little more credit, come on Canada…liability forms for laser tag?)

Our last stop was Rocamadour, a beautiful cliff side town and final resting place of the Black Madonna (and apparently Zacheaus, that wee little man.) It’s pedestrianized, so we parked in a neighboring village and walked- a lot. John was excited to do the 280 pilgrims stairs, but not on his hands and knees which I think is cheating for such an eager beaver. Speaking of safety regulations, they could really do with a few warning signs at the bottom of that stairway- phew! I may have had a mild heart attack or two.

The whole town is sadly quite the tourist attraction now, little shops selling plastic Marys and glowing Jesus postcards, nestled in between the ancient cave churches, frescoes and thatched roofs. It’s just the way things go, I guess, and it’s what keeps these little places alive, so we did our part and bought ice cream. But only to support the crumbling economy of Rocamadour, OK?
We had a yummy supper of crepes (more selfless support from the Closes) before coming home to one of our last France fires. Five more days…

Angie

Language

2008-10-13T04:40:00.000-07:00

What amazes me is how quickly kids make friends with other kids regardless. Regardless of age, language, gender. Of course it’s when they have choices that it all gets complicated and they start to get choosy, but right now the only little people our kids have contact with in the world are three French speaking Swiss kids who love to wrestle and stand outside our window every morning yelling “Eet-en! Matt-ee! Aaa-leksa!” And, apparently, it’s all going swimmingly. Right now they’re raking up a huge pile of leaves, jumping in, burying each other, throwing the leaves up in the air and knocking the whole pile down. Somehow they’ve organized this without a common language (I saw Ethan demonstrating and doing a lot of pointing, but that’s as sophisticated as it gets.) They play huge hide and seek matches and tag, Ethan goes fishing with the boys in the pond while Maddie happily watches, Lex plays Barbies with the little girl (although I’m not sure how exactly that works, it seems to me Barbie has a lot to say) and they do a lot of basic running around screaming type stuff.

When they want to call on each other they just knock on the doors and smile and when they get mad at each other they all know the most powerful word, no. Our kids always say bonjour and they always say hello, so they are trying, but it really doesn’t seem to matter that much to them, this language barrier thing. It’s quite refreshing to watch.

John and I want to invite their parents over for cake. We found the tastiest most beautiful little tiny cakes in Sarlat which apparently have won awards all over the world (this makes me picture some kind of Cake Idol, which I think would be the best show ever) and they’re only around $3, so this is very bad news for me. Anyway, I’m slightly nervous that it won’t run as smoothly as it does with the kids. Even with the cake/bribe/ice breaker. I’m sure I can’t just point at them and grunt or yell NO when they don’t understand. I can’t grab their arm and guide it to the cake to communicate a friendly help yourself. Pointing and laughing and gently shoving each other wouldn’t be appropriate, but somehow kids let themselves get away with these things. It may be a little awkward, but they do seem nice so we’ll give it a shot.

Angie

Caving

2008-10-13T04:33:00.000-07:00

As I type this, our 11th day in France is nearing its end. Scheduled for our last week is a trip out St. Emillion (largest underground church in Europe as well as 90+ wine vineyards), Rocamadour, more canoeing, a France style Heritage Park, castles and caves and of course more relaxing in our beautiful home. One popular at home activity has been dipping in our pool. I say dipping because swimming implies the person in the water stays in the water longer than 4.2 seconds. The water is colder than Javert so we jump in, make a scene, and then jump out (narrowly escaping hypothermia). 37 seconds later we do this again giggling like school girls the whole time. We convinced mamma school girl to join us today (we told her the water was warmer than usual) and to her credit she jumped in not once, not three times but TWICE. Her reaction was worth the cost of this cottage. The downside is its possible she no longer trusts the man she married. The truth is, I’ve been nice to Ang “don’t call me Angela unless you’re the government” ie (I just made this nickname up now) - just ask her colorful new half llama’s wool half cotton all comfort sweater I bought her from the market.

Speaking of taking care of my lady, we let Angela sleep in the other day while the kids and I had daddy-kids time. I told them it was a surprise (mainly because I had no plan) but we ended up weaving down the D47 towards Commarque Castle. When we arrived the parking lot was empty so we scoffed at no one in particular - happy we were the first ones there. The castle is a 600m walk from the lot. When we arrived at the castle we were greeted by a bunch of no one. Everything was boarded up and there was a yellow signed nailed to the door saying something important in French. We guessed it included the words “closed and moron tourist.” My first thought which I somehow said out loud was “you know, this castle would be easy to breach, we could just scale that wall and then. . .” Maddie, the adult on this trip, talked me out of it, so I got down off the wall, then helped Lex and Ethan off too. We walked around the outside for a bit, admiring its castlenicity and then got bored and started to head back. Or did we?

INSERT SUSPENSE

Across the moat (there wasn’t actually a moat but it sounds better) we noticed a hill in the trees with some serious cave potential. Knowing France’s reputation for caves I recommended the others follow. Arriving at the hill we began to walk around it, through the trees and eventually swampy marsh wetness. Maddie was done at this point – never been a fan of the swamp. I thought about aborting but something deep inside and in front of me urged me forward. With Maddie on my back we continued through the marsh until I saw the reason for my urging. About 13 feet up on the hill was the opening of a cave hidden from common men.

I ran towards, and when we arrived I quickly saw the remnants of a medieval staircase (jagged rocks inserted sporadically into side of hill). I encouraged the kids to- climb kids climb- ignoring Maddie’s caution for the greater good. Reaching the mouth of the cave I looked inside then turned and said “I’ll go in and check it out, if I’m not back in 5 minutes, call the police.” My clever joke set me back 5 minutes as I had to convince Ethan I was kidding, of course I’m kidding son, daddy would never . . . die in a cave.” We headed in with the light from my Eddie Bauer watch as our guide. It was the most unbelievable experience. This cave was the real deal. The poor kids were extremely nervous but had followed me in anyways because the thought of being eaten by a bear outside the cave was worse than the thought of being eaten by a bear with dad, inside it. (No bears in these parts grandparents).

We walked for a few minutes (yes I actually could stand up) winding around, crouching, crawling on our bellies at some points until I killed the experience by accidently saying out loud AGAIN “hey look, bones.” (There was a tiny pile of bones, remnants of a small animal) The crying began and I, the light bearer, was forced to abort -escorting the whimpering kids back outside. I tried to go back in again as things had just gotten interesting but the kids were too freaked calling out “dad, DAD, DAD, every 3 seconds. I aborted again, forgoing my dream of a great archaeological discovery. As we walked back to the car the kids acted like they weren’t really scared, saying things like “we should have gone farther, the cave wasn’t that scary.” Ha ha, kids are great and so was the day even if some other dad gets to discover the cave paintings.

Rocamadour Pics

2008-10-13T03:57:00.000-07:00

Fresquoes worn down with age.

12 century Roman fresquoes.

Rocamadour at its most glorious.

Strolling with the kiddoes.

Pilgrims staircase led to this at the top.

We parked here and walked into Rocamadour. Long but worth it.

Eating lunch outside a cave after exploring the mill.

700 year old flour mill that just ceased operating commercially in 1959. Very neat.

Back of mill.

Glad you love the pics everyone! Angie loves taking them.

Just another day canoeing to castle. . .

2008-10-09T06:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we canoed down the Dordogne. You should know that between John and I we have a combined canoe experience of about half a day. The kids- zero. That’s OK because it turns out that the canoe is a patient and gentle transport, always steady when the kids get restless, easy for last minute maneuvering away from bridges, not getting holes when scraped along shallow rocky bottoms too close to the shore. We now know that we love the canoe!

We also love the Dordogne. I think we passed at least half a dozen castles, but it’s hard to say. Some are kind of hidden, or set back in the trees, some may not technically be a castle, just a really old fancy house with turrets. The trip takes about two hours without stops, but we got out at two little villages, both climbing up the side of a cliff and topped with an imposing castle. I think the best part was exploring these little towns with their twisting, narrow cobbled streets and their funny medieval houses, all kind of layered and tucked in behind each other. All of this on an impossibly steep climb. People live here, just like they have for a thousand years (minus the Nestle ice cream signs and the motorcycles), and I feel kind of bad walking around with my camera. But not too bad, I’ll post some pictures.

When we reached the top of the first village (Castlenaud) we decided to forego the castle for the next one, mostly because we were excited to burrow our way back through the old alleys and see what else we could find. What we found, besides more amazing old stuff, was that Ethan, Lex and John love to sprint down knobby cliff-like walk ways , while Maddie and I try to figure out how old the abandoned clay oven is (this is more fun than it sounds, OK?)

The second stop was very similar town wise but this time we explored the castle. Which was amazing. The last castle we checked out was Warwick in England, pretty cool, but full of reproductions, wax figures and people in matching vests with their hands folded behind their backs saying, ”Please don’t touch. Please don’t. No, we can’t have people going around touching that. Please. Thank you.” This is how I thought castles were done, and I promptly promised never to write about them again. Didn’t I? Sorry.

This castle was Beynac and, first of all, we were the only people there. Our voices echoing off the huge dining halls and our feet clomping through the endless passageways. We had total free reign, not a single vested person in sight, I couldn’t believe it. This meant Ethan could run ahead looking for doors that opened and “secret passageways”, Maddie could take her time absorbing it all and Lex could sing the whole time (yes, she does that.) All while John tried to read out loud from the guide book that the door to the left leads to a latrine and the tiny chapel has 700 year old frescoes and the heart shaped locks were put in as a tribute when Richard the Lionheart died from his gangrenous wound (a little less rough housing, perhaps, Richie)… it was pretty amazing having all that freedom.

There were actual tapestries, flags and paintings left on the walls, fading and peeling and not behind glass (which deeply disturbed Maddie.) The rooms were mostly empty except for the odd beaten chest or table and a kitchen full of 800 year old kitchen things, and because of all that it was so much more real. No gimmicks or theatrics, just the five of us exploring a massive cliff top castle. Some of the doors and stairwells were locked (which deeply disturbed Ethan), but we still spent almost two hours going from room to room before heading back down through the village and to our canoe. And, eventually, to our little mill house, exhausted.

What a day!

Angie

Lessons learned

2008-10-09T06:49:00.000-07:00

The French enjoy life, slowly, (the only way actually) and it’s seen most dramatically in how long it takes the waiter to return between courses. Our North American stomachs are used to FAST FOOD, so we gulp down our Msg before bolting out the door. Last night, we were eating on the terrace of a restaurant set in the cliffs of La Roque-Gageac, frequent winner of France’s prettiest village contest. We inhaled our food so fast (we had been canoeing all day) that Angie actually had time to leave and phone her parents before the desserts came. While embarrassing on our part, it was yet another lesson that the ultimate purpose of food may not be biological, but relational. Experts have shown families who share a meal together double their chances of remaining healthy and functional. The Close Family is slowly improving; France has been a good teacher indeed.

Speaking of teaching, here are some lessons I’ve learned these first few weeks:

1. While the French take their time, they drive fast. Many times I’ll look up and think I’m towing something. Although they tail, they never flash the bird, shake the noggin, or curse. They just pull out, pass, and away they go. Also, pedestrians don’t have the right of way here, expect it and you’re liable to get a leg full of fender.

2. As far as lizards and spiders go, we’re living in their house.

3. Next to God and the ones you love, beauty is the easiest thing in the world to take for granted. One week in France and we’ve already found ourselves speeding past beauty on our way into town. Beauty’s a multi layered creature, one I will write more on later.

4. As much as we love our evening TV, we’ve barely missed it. Although my Oilers start up again next week. . .

5. The richer the day - the fuller the life - the slower it will go by. England feels like a lifetime ago.

6. I’m learning not to hurry and experiencing more.

7. Washing machines take 2.5 hours and dryers are nowhere to be found. Dishwashers really are a God send (we’ve never had one before)

8. Ancient seldom means inferior.

9. In the end, the only investments that matter are love given and time spent.

10. Nancy Drew is a surprisingly good film (although it’s the first movie we’ve watched so that could have had something to do with it)

11. Finding a toad the size of a small dog in the wood shed late at night is enough to make Ethan, my and Lexa’s life, and Angie and Maddie fear for theirs.

12. Starting a fire is strangely similar to coddling a child. Patience is key.

And finally, always makes sure you bring cash when visiting Beynac Castle. It’s a 450 foot steep climb to the top, a long way down and an even longer 450 foot climb back up again. Sure Angie was wooed by my manly cardio but it hurt all over.

John

Picturesque Sarlat

2008-10-09T06:23:00.000-07:00

These first pics are of beautiful Sarlat, the village closest to us.

John took this one through a hole in the door. These are the remains of a 13th century hotel, not open to the public.

La Roque Gageac; prettiest Village in France.

Canoeing pic.

Maddie looking over the walls of Beynac Castle.

Meeting room of Beynac Castle.

More canoeing scenery.

Food

2008-10-06T08:41:00.000-07:00

If you can come to France just for the food, you should. If you need to quit your job and remortgage your house so you can try this food, do it. I think that’s sound advice. Who knew that a sliver of cheese could be packed with so much flavor? That when paired with a simple $4 bottle of wine your taste buds would suddenly be overwhelmed with different flavours- mushroomy, buttery, nutty and delicious.

We bought our cheese at the market in Sarlat where the lady told us it came from summer cow’s milk (always the best), is true gruyere because it has no holes, was one and a half years old, and never, ever put it in the fridge(she mentioned this 3 times, sensing our stubborn North American ways. Did you know they don’t refrigerate eggs here either?) She talked about cheese like it was a new born baby, swaddling it gently in brown paper and charging us $25 euros (yes, friends, that would be $35). Incidentally, cheese at the local Hyper Champion is about one tenth the price and super scrumptious. It also takes up both sides of an entire aisle. So if you come here I would recommend limiting your market cheese purchase to one time (but do it once, you’ll have a new found respect for aged milk products).

We bought some sausage that was so powerful it could knock a bland food eater out cold. A couple pieces with that wine and cheese, a fresh baguette that would put Safeway’s to shame (think crusty, chewy, peasanty- each with it’s own shape and personality), throw in some fresh vegetables and you have the world’s most delicious meal. The family we bought our veggies from insisted we buy some garlic, parsley and a gigantic mushroom to go with our potatoes that evening. They told us how to cook them up and we had that for supper. De-lish. Really, so good. We bought the freshest, reddest tomatoes and the strawberries were small, sweet, round little fruits. Just like the ones we grew in our backyard.

So we like the market. And we like the food here. And when we think of how we ate at home we feel embarrassed. The gigantic portions, eaten quickly, not giving us energy but zapping it away. With two main flavors: salty and sweet. There are thousands of flavors here and people see food as a ritual. They take time to prepare it and then to eat it. They know where it came from, they can tell the difference between the seasons of milk their cheese was made in and whether their duck was properly fattened. Here’s something- the super market doesn’t have a potato chip aisle. It has a tiny corner of the shelf with a few small bags of chips, kind of like how Safeway has a few pairs of pantyhose in their personal hygiene aisle- just in case. Just in case. Potato chips. It blows my mind.

One last quick thing. People here are beautiful. They can’t even help it. The men with their high cheek bones and their turtlenecks, the women with their effortless beauty. The women aren’t beautiful because you know they spent two hours straightening their hair and carefully applying their make-up. They are beautiful in that I just rolled out of bed looking like this and yes,I always dress in high leather boots sort of way. It lacks trying to hard, but it exudes pride. I passed myself in a window, wearing pig tails and my coat that turns into a pillow and I thought, hm. Perhaps a little too practical. And maybe that’s what I want to learn from the French. Economy packs of cheese from Costco and wearing converse shoes on a date night out with John might be missing some of the little pleasures in life. The small and beautiful things that really make each day jump, like buying a pretty bowl from a potter or eating lunch in a park. The things that don’t belong in a Superstore. France has been a good teacher!

Angie

Making Fire

2008-10-06T08:33:00.000-07:00

Today marks 2 weeks since we left Canada. We’ve experienced so much in that time that it’s hard to believe it’s only been that long. We still have 12 weeks left which is honestly amazing because we could come home tomorrow and feel satisfied. (That being said, we’re not gonna so we’ll still see you in January).

I know I’ve said it before but for those of you reading, which I guess is all of you, the best thing you could ever do for yourself or your kids is to board a plane and fly somewhere, anywhere and “resort or vacation spot” doesn’t even have to be in the title. We chose to stay at out of the way places on purpose and it has ABSOLUTELY been the best the decision we’ve made. Touristy places are fine to visit, but to stay or live there longer than 3 days, not worth it. Not only are they 2-3 times more busy and expensive, (London, Paris and Madrid versus Bidford, Proissans and Granada) – they’ve been systematically drained of their local culture to attract Westerners with big checklists and only 2 weeks’ vacation. That being said, we are very excited about our Mediterranean cruise so I guess there’s a time and place for all kinds of travel, especially if that time and place is yummy and includes Greece, Turkey and Italy. Still, don’t restrict yourself by just travelling the tried and true, go off the beaten track. Thats where the jewels are.

So here’s something cool. We share our acre with another cottage that was just recently inhabited by a young family with 3 kids. We assumed they were from France (dumb us) and so I made my way over excited to use some French phrases I had just memorized a few seconds earlier. Half way through my god awful French they smiled and in broken English said “we are from Switzerland.” Kinda embarrassing actually but they seem like a cool family and acted excited when I invited them over for wine one night this week.

Here’s something not so cool. Because I am “the man” as Angie calls me (strangely only when she needs me to do something not fun) I have taken responsibility for keeping our wood burning stove blazing at all hours of the day. The cottage has a heater but we figured it would be cheaper and cozier to go ‘all fire all the time.’ Once the fire gets going, I have to admit, it’s great. But, to get the thing going is about a simple as teaching my youngens ping pong, which I’ve also been trying to do all week. (Truth be told, the ping pong has been a blast and they’ve picked it up quickly).

Anyways, our cottage is OLD, meaning stone, so each morning when I wake up – wait a minute there’s 4 people in my bed - imploring me to get the fire going. Brilliant me didn’t pack pajama pants so I throw on my swimming trunks, pulling them down to resemble PJ’s, then make a B line outside to get wood then back inside to the stove. The temperature inside the stove is frolier and the first day it took Boy Scout John a full 53 minutes to get the fire going which ironically displeased the 4 warm people, snuggled up on the couch in wool blankets. Ethan tries to encourage me in my fire starting by saying helpful things like “just throw on more paper” or “just throw on more matches (ha), or the very sweet “poor dad, working so hard on the fire, you don’t have to do this dad.” It’s gradually gotten better though as I‘ve learned to baby the fire- giving it lots of affection, but still, unless I have 25 minutes to spare, I point the freezing 4 towards the wool.

The plan for this week involves canoeing down the Dordogne, past the region’s great castles, lots of cave exploring seeing 15,000 year old paintings and natural lime formations, the markets of Sarlat, touristy Rocamadour and of course, making fire. Oh yeah, and continuing to slog through Les Miserables, my 1200+ page Frenchy book. A remarkable story.

John

P.S. I ordered the plat du jour today at a restaurant and later I found out one of the things was salad with duck hearts. Nice.

Hallowed Ground

2008-10-06T08:30:00.000-07:00

How awkward would it be if my name were Lance? I’d be Lance from France. Phew, dodged a bullet there. Trying to describe France is like trying to explain kissing but I’ll do my best. Cocking your head to the right while floating in towards your partner slowly close your eyes. .

Seriously though, France, especially its Dordogne region (pronounced Door doan) is breathtaking in its topography. That’s right, I said topography. All we’ve done for the first few days is get lost, even on purpose. Getting lost isn’t the chore it is everywhere else. Here, its almost a cause for celebration. Oh no, we left beauty, turned right instead of left and came to more beauty. FRICK!!

It’s a good thing we rented a car, that’s for sure (despite my $500 lost in translation insurance debacle, I’m still fighting it but mostly I’m just trying to keep my wife from murdering me). That being said Angie just told me she bought 4 boxes, or 48 weeks worth, of anti-lime salt for the dishwasher instead of 1 box of DETERGENT so – hey Angie is that an omelette on your face or what- hmm? Yeah I know, my thing was still worse. Much.

Friday was amazing. We woke up and drove to Moulin de la Tour, a 16th century walnut mill still in operation. It’s been in the family for over 300 years and the equipment and operation t hasn’t changed. It’s all still powered by water from the river. I’ll let Ethan take it from here (this is from his journal, permission was granted)

“Today we went to the Walnut Mill. We saw a big stone rolling on walnuts. The walnuts turned into pace (paste). Then they heated the pace. They pace was put in a bag. Then they put blocks of wood on the pace. The wood is pushed down by a machine powered by the water. Then since the wood gets pushed down the bag gets squished so all the oil comes out. I got to taste it, tastes really good.”

Actually Ethan’s description is spot on. The oil drips out the bottom of the bag into a container and then 2 weeks later after the sediment is removed it’s ready for use. The whole thing was quite remarkable really and even though the tour was in French the kids followed along pretty well. We bought some almond paste or pace, walnut oil and cookies and by the time we pulled out of the parking lot we just had pace and oil. We took a short video so I’ll try to post it.

After, we drove down the D47 pulling over every 5 minutes to curb our gosh faces (and take pictures). We ended up at Saint Christophe, the highlight of the day for me. Trying to describe this is impossible so I’ll post lots of pics. The gist of it, though, was tens of thousands of years ago; ancient man lived in caves in the cliff face, making use of them in remarkable ways. The most stunning part of the cave system was completed 500 years ago when a city, A CITY was carved into the cliffs, with enough room for a thousand people to live, work and play in. As we walked through their ancient home, remnants of entire rooms and even a church could clearly be seen.

The church was powerful for me (go figure) as crosses were clearly visible, carved in the walls, as well as ancient tombs in the cliff base and even a church bell hanging one story above. There was a rope hanging down so I started to tug on it but quickly stopped when French tourists got all animated and started pointing. Did I mention this carved cliff city we walked in was 10-12 stories high? As I walked through this ancient city I felt like I was on hallowed ground and stopped many times to pay my respects. History is sacred to me. It’s done my soul good, this trip.

John

Saint Christophe Pics

2008-10-06T07:25:00.000-07:00

Its wierd passing castles each day on the drive into town.

Saint Christophe; amazing.

Couldnt find the delete button on this french computer.

Alexa bought that baby at Hamleys and takes it everywhere, even to this ancient Neanderthal home.

More Saint Christophe

My bell ringing.

The crosses at SC.

More SC.

Squat sil vous plait.

The French eat a TON of these guys.

Ancient dwellings.

More France. More beauty here then we know what to do with.

foux du fafa

2008-10-03T07:27:00.000-07:00

France. I can hardly stand how beautiful it is here. We arrived in the dark, again, after travelling every mode of transportation for twelve hours (only getting lost twice). This seems to be our travel style, I guess we should get used to it! We passed under cliffs that jutted out over our car, cliffs with lighted windows carved into their sides, castles (everywhere- I’m not kidding) and tiny picturesque villages. The lady we’re renting from, Audrey, met us in Sarlat (don’t even get me started on Sarlat!) and drove with us out to our little mill house, where there was a smoldering fire and bottle of wine on the table. John posted pictures, but it’s an old stone house that used to be a mill, complete with water wheel. Audrey shrugged when we asked her how old it was, telling us that it used to belong to the castle just on the hill so it must be very old. She also shrugged when we asked what was in the basement, saying not much but you can hear the water down there and check it out if you want to. We went down to the stone rooms, on different levels with water running right down the middle under a long opening in the floor that stretched from one end to the other. There was a huge circular groove in the floor (from grinding wheat?) and the kids now use it as their castle. Pretty cool. Lots of spiders and mossy stuff.

Today we just hung out at home, the kids raced homemade boats down the stream, swam in the freezing pool (we kept a fire all day so the house was nice and toasty for them), and made homes for the little orange slugs that seem to like France. All while John ran into town to clear up a $500 car insurance charge we didn’t need. In the end he still wasn’t able to get through (after over a dozen tries, each time being disconnected, misunderstood, or just not answered). Poor John. Poor John sitting by the fire with his wine and his book and his big French self. I think he’ll be alright.

Speaking of John, can I make fun of how he communicates to the non-English for a minute? First of all, he starts with some fake accent from who knows where, annunciating each syllable in a booming voice. HEL-LO! I FROM CA-NA-DA. YOU HAVE PHONE? TEL-AY-PHONE-AY? He’ll throw in a few exaggerated arm gestures and repeat himself a time or two, just to really drive the point home. It’s very cave man, but it’s got character, right? Plus people often do let him use their phones, so he really gets the job done. What’s most important is that he’s our designated talker, leaving me off the hook, which is just where I like to be. John and Alexa both do the talking, actually. As soon as we got off the plane Alexa was trying out her bonjours on anyone who would make eye contact. She’s always the one that wants to order things, trying to figure out how to say it in French and she gets in as many merci aurevoirs as we walk out the door. Funny girl.

Tomorrow? There’s an old 16th century water mill that still presses walnut oil just down the road and apparently we can tour it, and maybe buy some oil (what do you do with walnut oil? It sounds yummy, but what?) Then some exploring and going to Sarlat, where hopefully we can set up one of those long distance phone cards (that’s for you, Mom and Dad!)

Angie

Our home for the next 18 days

2008-10-02T07:58:00.000-07:00

Our side yard. Not bad.

Ancient cave painting I think.

A window. Check out the beam up to the right.

Ethan found this guy. Best day of his life. For Ethan too.

Leads to our basement. The water flows under our house.

Our house, in all its glory. $70 a night I kid you not.

France. Oh la la.

Nice one Ang.

Our backyard.

Backyard continued.

After 14 hours of straight travelling by every mode you can imagine we finally arrived at our Garden of Eden. Although we were grouchy, sore, tired and grouchy it was a spiritual moment when we walked in, and we all knew it was worth it. We will post more pics including the interior of the house over the coming days. More words too.

John

Leaving Drew

2008-09-30T02:53:00.001-07:00

The hardest part about leaving Calgary was knowing that we wouldn’t likely see baby Drew again. When we found out today that he had passed we were left standing in the middle of London in a quiet cluster with our ridiculous shopping bags. Alexa said, “But I will miss Drew!”
We all will miss Drew, but the impression he left on us is forever. Our thoughts are with you always Jordan, Kari and Peyton.

Love the Closes.

Some Pics

2008-09-30T01:57:00.000-07:00

The kids feeding the swans by the 600 year old bridge.

The kids helping lauch a boat on the river avon.

The 800 year old church.

England at its finest. Billowing rain clouds surrounding a field dotted with sheep.

The kids on the train.

Wall inscritptions at the Tower of London.

Best sign ever. We all laughed ourselves sick at this one. So great.

Love that butcher

2008-09-30T01:53:00.000-07:00

It's 11pm and I just came back from the Bidford Courtyard, the centre of town where all the non action is. I was trying to steal someone’s wireless signal so I could post, email, pay bills etc. I was going to do it in London today but Angie in her brilliance suggested we catch the early train back to Stratford because “we’ll get home earlier and besides, Stratford will have internet for sure.” Thanks Ang, you’re the best. Anyways, me and the butcher have got on as they say and so he let me sit in his shop this morning and use his signal. Lovely chap that butcher.

I said we were in London today and we were. The kids informed us last night that they were all “churched out”, which for a Pastor isn’t splendid but they quickly assured me they meant the touring part, not the God part. Phew right. So, despite our longing to tour Westminster Abbey and St.Paul’s Cathedral we axed those plans and instead had a London kid’s day which meant Hamleys all morning, and the interactive Science Museum in the afternoon.

Hamleys is a 7 story high toy village that boasts “the best toys in the world.” Quite the boast but after going there they might be right. I’ve never seen so many toys. We told the kids they could each pick out a toy and the choosing nearly did them in, especially when I gave the 20 min warning. In my defense, they had already been there for 2 hours. They finally managed to choose something and we all walked out thrilled, for different reasons. Maddie got herself a genuine Paddington Bear, who just celebrated his 50th bday this year. I wondered if we should have bought Mr. Paddington a sports car to cruise around in just so everyone knew he was still young. A Barbie too.

Ethan bought a remote control airplane and Lex bought herself a cute baby. After Hamleys the kids let us take them to Westminster Abbey to have lunch in its park right by the river Thames. It was great. The afternoon was spent at the surprisingly shoddy Natural History Museum, and the much better Science Museum.

Today is our last day in England, time flies faster here, 8 hours faster. Speaking of, we’ve totally adapted to the time here which is fortunate. Our plan is to end England strong so we’re going to the Cotswolds, rural England at its finest and most beautiful. It will undoubtedly make for some amazing pictures. Btw – hope you enjoyed the small selection we. That’s like 10 of 600 so be thankful.

We fly to France Wednesday where we’ll live for 18 days. We’ll be even more rural then we were in Bidford but we’re renting a car so hopefully we can get into town and post a few times a week. Thanks to everyone for your continued interest and comments, each comment makes us feel connected but even more importantly, loved.

Thank you!

John

That Church

2008-09-30T01:50:00.001-07:00

The best parts of England are unplanned, the parts where you just live your normal life, but in a different place. Any travel book will say as much, but it seems we had to have that lesson burned into our very being. Today we went to service at Bidford upon Avon Church of England (the 800 year old church across the street from us). Have you seen Mr. Bean trying to partake in a Church of England service? That was us. Well John mostly. I’m a blender, I blend. John recites the church passages at the wrong times and goes up front to take a strange and formal communion he’s totally unfamiliar with. John has more fun.

The congregation is mostly made up of older people, a few young families and, strangely, no one in between. I think that being there has finally warmed us to a few of the residents in Bidford, which is nice. At the end of the service one of the Sunday School teachers (who taught the kids about Fair Trade and Malawi- awesome!) got up and welcomed us, giving the kids each a little postcard of the church signed, “Your friends at the Bidford Church”. We were then invited for tea and biscuits at the adjoining hall where everyone asked us different versions of the same question, “Why are you here?” We tried to assure them that Bidford is absolutely beautiful and, yes, we did mean to make it a part of our trip. On purpose. They told us about distant relatives living in Canada- they all knew about Calgary, but no one was familiar with Alberta. Hm.

We were informed of the Jolly Teapot, a time where people gather for a “good old chat” every Thursday morning and someone invited us to pick apples from their full tree. We were given directions to some “lovely walking paths” past our cottage, but before heading out we had a true English lunch at the Bull’s Head, our local pub. Pretty delicious actually. Lamb, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes- all the healthy stuff. We tried to tell the kids to order bangers and mash, but they disappointingly opted for burgers. I asked them if they knew how to spell boring, but they still ordered burgers. Oh well.

Then we headed out past the sheep, a really old sanatorium, a farm and finally, to the canal. I think it’s called a canal, but I’m sure that there’s some boat expert reading this and shaking their heads in disappointment. Maybe bypass this paragraph, boat expert. Just as we were watching, two canal boats came up and opened the gates (?), asking the kids if they wanted to come and help. Of course they did, who doesn’t want to open huge underwater doors and flood an area the size of a small house? He explained to the kids how it all worked (I should have let them write this blog!) and took them through the whole process before jumping back on his little water home and waving goodbye.

Now we’re back in our cozy cottage, with a fire and some coffee, getting ready for a good night’s sleep before we head out to another London day, our last. Which means less strolling and meeting people and more crazy tours and galloping herds of people. Maybe we didn’t learn that lesson after all…

Angie

London

2008-09-30T01:42:00.000-07:00

Despite being one of the most travelled cities in the world, London holds a special intrigue. Its origins date back to Julius Caesar and some of the most important figures of history have spent extended time within its city walls, like Wiliam Shakespeare. I just read Bryson’s biography on him and wow, I had no idea so little can actually be known about him. Anyways, this isn’t Wikipedia, so I’ll move right to closesineurope.

After a disappointing and unusually slow double decker tour we finally arrived at the Tower of London. The tower is a thousand years old, built by order of William the Conqueror. One of its main functions was to house prisoners, especially those treasonous wretches in opposition to the crown. Anne Boleyn, one of Henry VIII’s wives lost her head there, as did Catherine and many others. A fancy plaque marks the exact spot. Lovely. My favorite part of the tower was the inscriptions on the walls. They were from 15th and 16th century prisoners. There is plexiglass over the carvings to prevent “clever” tourists from adding to the inscriptions, which happens way too often believe it or not. Beside each inscription is a typed message of what was originally carved. I felt modern chills as I read their medieval words and imagined what they must have felt.

After the tower we ran to catch another bus, the story of our life, because our play was due to start in 15minutes. We somehow arrived in time and spent the next 3 hours as groundlings. (Wikipedia will help you out here if you’re scratching your head). The play was Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and it was exhilarating. The acting was top notch and further confirmed what I already knew to be true; the best actors are NOT in Hollywood. We had already listened to and read the play as a family so we were able to follow right along despite the old language. That being said, the kids eventually tired from the standing, groundlings stand, and at times they had difficulty seeing but they lasted despite it being 3 hours (we had no idea the length, I had guessed 1hr?, ha. I now know that Shakespeare was notoriously longwinded, Hamlet is his longest at 5 hours.) But seriously, the play was amazing and it’s probably the best live entertainment I’ve seen anywhere, ever, besides my annual grad video of course. Next time you come to London you gotta go to the Globe. Do it.

John

John - September 23-27.

2008-09-26T10:33:00.000-07:00

Bidford on Avon. Sounds like a bloke going on about his new facial cream. Let me assure you, it’s nothing of the sort. For starters it’s our home, for this week anyways. The thing about living in a 350 year old house is it feels wrong to live modern. So you eat healthy, slow down and even steer clear of the television. But mostly you just marvel at the stone slab floor, 5 foot doorways (after hitting my head for the 22nd time my marveling has begun to decrease), and ancient smell. I could just stay here all day but there are sights to see, like Bidford for instance, Stratford on Avon, Warwick (second w is silent so don’t say it illiterate Canadian) the Cotswolds and even a place called London. Today we got out of The Cottage and I’m still trying to pick up my dropped jaw. The buildings, oh the buildings.

I haven’t seen buildings with this much character anywhere, ever. The reason is obvious enough; each one is older than Canada and the US together. Still, it’s difficult to believe that our modern architects actually believe they are moving forward in their designs- especially when it comes to churches. Oh. My. God. Trust me, I’m not speaking in vain here, I’m confident he’s just as impressed. As Angie said, our Cottage is a stone’s throw away from an 800 year old Church. As we walked through its graveyard I wondered many times if we’d get the opportunity to see inside. I inquired with the lady at the Bidford Bakery as I was picking up bread and she was like “oh, the church? Yeah, its pretty old, ain’t it, that’s 2 pounds please.” That’s one thing we’ve found, the residents of Bidford aren’t nearly as impressed with Bidford as we are. Some teenagers I met said “you’ll find many places much nicer then this place, all you’ll find here are people wearing track suits.” Even the cabbie said to us “are you sure it’s Bidford you’re after?” I imagine it’s the same as when people come to Alberta and are all googly eyed over Banff, yawn. Familiarity breeds apathy if you’re not careful.

We went grocery shopping today at Budgens, the local grocery store. It was quaint and had most everything including inexpensive wine, a trademark of Europe/Britain. We bought two bottles for like 7 pounds. After shopping we walked along the 600 year old bridge built by monks. There’s no walking path for pedestrians on this one lane bridge so you pretty much have to walk on the outer edge of your foot clinging to the walls as the cars whiz by. Cars don’t yield for pedestrians here, not even if you’re six with freckles. Once across you find a big meadow, riverside, where dogs run, kids play and people stroll. It’s quite beautiful actually, especially the canopy style trees with enough shade for the members of The Calgary Church of Christ. Angie says you can rent boats on the river for a day or week so we might do that and take the 7 mile journey to Stratford On Avon. As we were discussing such things church bells began to ring, the kind portrayed in movies. Maddie immediately demanded that we head towards, so we did. By the time we arrived it was dark and 8pm so Angie and the girls decided to keep moving and get the stir fry on, told you, we’re healthy now, while Ethan and I decided to high tail it to the church where not only bells were ringing but lights could be seen.

When we reached the big medieval doors I pushed without thinking, they opened so that was good thought me, and we continued to another set of doors that pushed open like the first. Once inside we saw 7 people standing to our right. I thought fast and said “hello.” Pretty slick eh. The people turned out to be very friendly and welcomed us in. Phew. They were the official bell ringers and gathered every Tuesday night to –no word of a lie- practice, for 2 hours. The practice was for Sunday of course, when the bells would call people to Church. Sadly, very few answer these days.

The people were excited that Ethan and I were so ecstatic so they gave us a first rate tour including, a walk up the ancient spiraling stone staircase leading to the bell tower. The tower is 800 years old and completely original. It was magnificent.
Walking up the tower was a cross between Indian Jones and my dreams. I silently cursed for wearing my spider web loving fleece sweater but I got to see the actual bell and stand there as they rang it just for me and my son and I didn’t even cover my ears when they told me too –as if I could, I’m in an 800 year old bell tower. I asked the guy if we could go higher and he said, “yeah allright, never been up that high though.” We walked to the roof where sadly we were met by a locked door. Still, it was amazing just to be in the tower and although Ethan nearly freaked from all the spiders and incredibly steep stairs going down, we’ll both remember it forever – and not just because we didn’t have to fill out liability forms.

We sprinted back and got the girls and tore them away from the cooking (they actually were, I’m not being chauvinistic here) to take them back to the church. Once inside, they had the same bell ringing experience and VIP tower tour. We also toured the Altar area at the front of the church which was also completely original including the stain glass gothic windows, floor tiles and 350 year old tombs buried beneath the floor. We were there for over an hour and to be honest I think our gracious hosts were thrilled. They explained the demise of their church as one might explain a family member dying of cancer. The truth is, the Church of England is nearly dead and all that will be left is its beautiful buildings. A tragedy for many reasons.

Well, that’s day one of 100. If all the rest are the same, we just might die of joy.
Next stop, Stratford On Avon. William Shakespeare’s birthplace, school, grave etc.

John

September 25, 2008

Stratford on Avon is famous for one reason, William Shakespeare. There’s really not much else to it and the whole town knows it which is why the name of Shakespeare is used to sell everything from stationary to Italian cuisine. You’d think the descendants of the Skakester (my affectionate name for Willy, which is my nickname for Will) would take the businesses to task or demand a cut on every clickety pen that is sold in his name. Maybe they do come to think of it and that’s why it’s allowed to go on. Anyways, we steered clear of it all save a fabulous kid friendly book on some of his plays, namely A Mid Summer Night’s Dream, the play we are seeing performed live at the Globe Theatre in London Friday afternoon. We bought groundling tickets for $5 a piece yet they’re supposed to be the best of the lot.

Anyways, back to Big Willy, haha, Big Willy. We toured the house he was born in, the very room in fact. The house was neat and it felt cool when the guide said “the floor you’re walking on is the same floor Sir William walked on growing up.” We also toured The Holy Trinity Church where we saw his grave as well as the actual stone baptismal that he was christened in. They also had his actual baptism and death certificates there. Across from the Willy stash was an original King James Bible from the same year it was first printed. 1616. It was under a glass case and opened to the Psalms. Case bibles are always opened to the Psalms. I think just for kicks someone should open it to the Song of Songs, why not, I doubt anyone would notice but those who did, it would make their day. Absolutely.

Stratford was Wednesday. Yesterday we went to a town called Warwick. It’s also famous for one thing, the Warwick Castle. I’ve never been to a castle before save those that disappear when the tide comes in, but this Castle was eye popping. It’s dubbed by Rick Steves (our travel guru) “the biggest and best Castle in Britain.” I believe him. It had everything , even free access to all its parts including the parts you shouldn’t give stupid tourists free access to. Still, I’m grateful because when you’re standing in a 14th century dungeon with actual writing from a prisoner still visible on the wall, its more than surreal. Its surreal times 10. Another highlight was watching a treboulet (similar to a catapult) shoot an actual 30pound steel fireball into the air. When it landed it was still burning and the medieval host dude was like “yeah, perhaps we should go and put that out.” Haha. Perhaps you should.

This trip continues to amaze me. Each morning I wake up, make the family breakfast and then we discuss our plans for the day. I always have to pinch myself just to make sure I’m still not back in Calgary dreaming. We’re seriously doing that? Today? The Closes? Yes, yes we are. What a gift.

John

P.S. We did the London thing today which is why I was able to finally post all this. We’ll be returning Monday so we’ll post more then. Sorry for the blog backup, for the 4 of you that managed to read through all 8 or 9 pages, congrats. Oh yeah, pics will debut Monday too, some good ones there.

Angie - September 23-26

2008-09-26T10:28:00.000-07:00

We arrived at our cottage after an eight hour flight to Gatwick, half an hour train to London, several tube rides to Marylebone station, a two hour train to Stratford-on-Avon and a fifteen minute taxi to Bidford-on-Avon, not to mention the six hour layover we heard about after arriving at the airport in Calgary. Our whole adrenaline will keep us from being tired plan failed miserably and we found ourselves stumbling blindly around our tiny cottage at 11:00 at night and falling into bed without much exploring. It wasn’t until the next morning that we discovered that we were living in the cutest house in the world for just over a week. Seriously. The view from our bedroom window is of an 800 year old church (that John will tell you all about later, you lucky ducks) and graveyard, back dropped by a sheep dotted pasture. Maybe that sounds creepy (not the sheep- they’re pretty sweet), but it’s not. It’s really very beautiful, I feel like saying to everyone passes, “Have you seen that view?! What the heck!” People here are totally unimpressed with Bidford, though. And oddly suspicious of us. I mean, we may be loud and hard to miss, but suspicious? I guess it’s all part of the un- touristy charm. (I should mention that the butcher and bell ringers have been more than friendly, but John wants to tell you about that, too. He gets all the good stories.)
We had planned on spending our first day skipping around London with our hair blowing in the wind and our backpacks swinging happily over one shoulder, but because of our stinking (grr…) layover, we decided instead to head straight from plane to train (the not so simple excursion I mentioned above). We did not skip. We stood confused and weighted down with our enormous packs, holding up lines in the ticket booths, blocking people’s way on the tube, getting lost, wondering what to do when we lost John, getting stuck in turnstiles; basically annoying those fast moving, no eye contact Londoners wherever we went. Yes, we’ll leave London for another day.
A few tips: It’s really not that expensive if you can live off yogurt and toast
You can walk anywhere, even on private property with the sheep. Really. You’re allowed
Scruffy taxi drivers with British accents can possibly make your head explode
No one’s said cheerio yet, or cheers. That’s mildly disappointing
More to come!
Ang

September 25, 2008
We went to a castle today. Maybe John mentioned it, I’m not sure, but I don’t think I’ll say too much because then this whole blog will start to be like castle, castle, church, sheep, more castles. I do want to say that we loved it and people lived there until after I was born, which is just plain crazy.
After the castle we were hungry and had an hour to wait for the bus. Most people would think, hm, an hour isn’t too long. Let’s be patient and enjoy these aluminum benches for a while. But we were really, really hungry, so we went looking for food. We decided on an Indian restaurant, which we had heard are delicious and affordable in these parts. Sigh. You know those movies where the girl goes to the prom in her homemade dress and her braces (but she wins prom queen because she’s nice)? That was us, without the crown. This place was fancy. As soon as we stepped inside we were very aware of our bad hair (no blow dryers, no hair stuff), heavy duty travellin’ clothes (hiking shoes, cargo pants) and the kids many grass stains (come on, we were just at a fun castle!) We whispered to the kids as we were seated, we’re in a fancy place so talk quietly and no wrestling. Waiters stood over us (yes, we had three) tending to our every need as we pointed to a few items on the menu that we couldn’t read. They were quite nice, and I think they knew from our laughing and our hand waving and our apologizing that we were in a little over our heads, so they explained all the food to us as they brought it out (in three shifts), and what to do with it. This is when we discovered that it wasn’t Indian at all. It was something delicious and perhaps eastern-ish, but it wasn’t Indian. The kids actually did OK and we sat back and enjoyed the service, watching the clock go by as John waved his arm and said “We’ll catch the next bus. Pass me some more of that red stuff…”

We missed the bus (bet you didn’t see that coming). The last bus. I suggested we find a different route that landed us down some old alley and face to face with a nice older gentleman who sent us about twenty minutes (and suspiciously on a whole lot of left turns) until we flagged down a lady with an armful of cookie boxes. She sent us all the way back up the world’s longest street until we talked to a man smoking a pipe, and on and on we went until it was dark and it wasn’t even close to fun anymore. John, sensing my oncoming rant about responsibility and why certain people refuse to wear the watches their wives bought them, ran ahead to figure things out. He came back with the news of a bus stop possibility and we ran for another twenty minutes until we found a little guy hunched over a computer manual under the street light and asked him if this was the bus that went to Stratford. He nodded and said it was coming in six minutes. That’s when we celebrated- Close style. Basically laughing with relief, which is often the state we’re in when we’re celebrating.

We bussed to Stratford, where we discovered that we missed the connecting bus to Bidford. I’m not kidding. That would be way too much story, though, and I’m tired.
Phew.

Ang

We're alive

2008-09-24T07:26:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone. So here's the thing. The beautiful village Bidford on Avon, where we're staying in a 350 year old cottage, has absolutely no internet in the entire town. In fact, I tried to pay with a 50 the other day and nearly got run out of town. Today we're visiting Stratford On Avon, the same town where one William Shakespeare began and ended his life. It's remarkable all of it and Angie and I have already written 5 pages on our experiences and taken 175 pictures and a dozen videos. The problem is, we've done it all on our fancy Microsoft 2007 Office version and the library here in Stratford only has 2003 Windows so we can't access and/or post our stuff.

We'll be going into London in the next few days and we promise to post it all then. Please be warned, it'll likely be 4 days worth so. . . make yourself a coffee. Really strong. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait.

On a personal note. Mom, Dad, sister, brother, cousins, friends, everyone is happy, healthy and slowly kicking our jet lag. Hope to post our journals and pictures soon.

John and Ang

FlyCrapSpan

2008-09-21T17:37:00.000-07:00

Hi, its John. We're still in Calgary. We got to the airport 3 hours early -because that what responsible people do thats why - only to be greeted with the stark reality that our favourite discount airline FlyCrapSpan had changed our flight for the third time. Yep, THIRD. Thankfully we still fly out tonight but not until 10:15pm, we think, we hope, please God please. Maddie cried all the way as we headed back to Greg and Suneetha's and I may have cursed but probably not because only wicked people do such things.

So. .fingers are crossed. Hopefully next time we write we'll be in the land of Cheerios.

Cheerio.

John

Thankyou and Adieu

2008-09-20T21:26:00.000-07:00

By the time most of you read this we'll be enjoying home cooked plane food and censored movies. It's difficult to imagine our dream of travelling the world (and by world I mean Europe) with our kids is about to begin. We fly out in 20 hours. Unbelievable.

Before we left we wanted to give some shout outs to our peeps in Compton. I say we, but Angie would never say things like peeps or Compton and certainly not shout outs and so I guess I mean me. I want to shout out. Especially to those who have gone over and above for us as of late.

First on my list is Hope and Darcy Pawlak. If you don't know them you should and quick. They speak bluntly but its only a cover for their golden hearts. Not only do they work tirelessly to make our church a better place they allowed us to stay in their better place for the past week. Hope said she was excited because "we are so much fun" but the awful truth is most days we could only be found huddled in her basement pounding out our schedule, budget and the joy that is online banking and most evenings we could be found asleep on her couch as "we partied." We apologized each time it happened and I think she's forgiven us because she said we can stay at her house again in the New Year. Bottom Line: Hope and Darcy Pawlak live the life Jesus meant when he said "love one another as I have loved you." We feel honored to be counted as their friends!

Second is Greg and Suneetha Banco. Let me say this once more: if you don't know them you should and quick. They speak softly but its only because of their shrunken voice boxes. *I thought that might be a funny thing to say* The fantastic truth about the Bancos is they are the kind of friends who not only help you move but stay and clean your house after too. Seriously. Who is as wonderful as them? Right now I'm typing from their computer as they've also opened up their house so my rambunctious family could take over their steadiness. Greg and Suneetha live the same servant life as our Pawlak friends and it overwhelms me to think I have not one but TWO sets of friends this Golden. Plus Greg looks like me, says my kids. So. . yay for us.

We'd also like to thank Jeff and Erin for watching our buddy Hugo while we're gone and Chris and Glenda for watching our Speedway Blue Matrix (as well as their son Dan for coming with them so he can say goodbye to us at the airport.) Aww, thanks Dan. Hi Dan (from Angie).

Next time we write it'll be from the land down under, wait that's Australia, the land of a million pieces, nope that's a book I think, the land far far away, shoot that's Shrek. Whatever its called, we'll be writing from there. Soon.

Up Up and away!!

John and Ang.

What are we forgetting?

2008-09-17T20:22:00.002-07:00

We finally finished with our house on Sunday, fitting all our earthly possessions into a 14 ft moving truck. I was sick (every time- it's a tradition of mine) and then threw out my neck, making me look like I was hunched over my invisible walker, like I should be shaking my fist at the birds or scowling out my window from behind a curtain. I'm on the mend now, though, thanks to our chiropractor and some pretty heavy duty muscle relaxants (ahhh). Mostly, I think I'm better because we're done moving!!!

Now we're down to three days and we have taken care of almost everything. I think. Really, we won't know until we're in the middle of France and realize we don't have that special France thing that gets you into all the museums for free and keeps you dry in the rain and locates your lost passports. I'm sure there's a thing out there like that that I've missed somehow. Our passports are safe for now, thanks to Hope. She confiscated them when we moved in with her four days ago. She also created a special file for our birth certificates and labled some ziplocks for important things. It's very good to have a well organized friend.

Now we're at the point of figuring out if we were completely out of our minds when we thought we could carry our every need for four months in five backpacks (actually, Alexa's shouldn't count, it would fit Barbie). I'm picturing John with a couple of extra back packs, one on each arm. He won't wear a fanny pack (thank the good Lord), but what about a thigh pack? A top of the foot pack? A forehead pack? That or we'll be travelling Europe without pants.

Here we come Europe!

Angie

Numbness

2008-09-11T13:35:00.000-07:00

People are constantly saying to us "you excited, getting excited, pretty excited?" They're talking about our trip of course and for the record the answer is yeah, yeah we're excited. But to be honest, we've been excited for so long our feeling is more akin to numbness then excitement. I just want to get my trip on already.

We leave in 10 days and let me tell you, those days couldn't come any faster. I say my official goodbyes to Maryvale CofC this Sunday, which is great and will be hard, but after that, I'll be fast tracking towards Europe.

Angie is sick right now which was inevitable. Anyone who spends 4 stressful months planning, sorting, packing and stacking is destined for some hacking and not just because it rhymes. As crappy as she feels the British Doc at Walk-in prescribed her some meds and pro biotic yogurt, strangely. Its like his European and North American Ness are at odds. Either way, I just want my wife back and if that means more smoothies then I'm in support.

I went with Uhaul again. I do everytime and without fail I'm reduced to an anger ball. "I'm sorry sir but unfortunately I don't have a truck for you." Are you SeRIOUS!!. "Please try to calm down sir. What's your name again?" Close. "Spell that please." Spell that, that one always gets me. I said Close not Rumpelstiltskin. C - L - O - S - E. "I see, well there's no booking under that name. Could it be under another name." Yeah, check youramoron. Despite all Uhaul's incompetence I go with their $19.95 every time. Anyways, we load Saturday. Oh Joy!

John

I'm...sort of...going...crazy

2008-09-06T19:28:00.000-07:00

Our house is missing half it's furniture and yet it looks like the gross back end of Value Village. I can hardly move as I sort things into the BC pile, trip pile, need for the next two weeks pile and throw away pile (this one is shamefully large). On top of that I'm booking, reconfirming, organizing, ordering, routing, reading, memorizing and all the other things you do when you go somewhere farther than Medicine Hat. Plus trying to teach the kids about cool things like Cathedrals and Roman history so they can appreciate a gothic window or a colosseum when they see one for crying out loud. Wow. I'm no fun at all right now! Oh, and then I start thinking about how I don't want to be homeless when we come back, so there's that, and will Rusty's new owners remember how he likes to sleep on his fuzzy brown blanket and should I try to keep that new package of noodles?

But then, on some twisted level, even parts of this crazy pre-trip mess are totally fun. Every morning we do our can't-believe-it dance when we tear off another page of the count down calender. Every few days we get a package in the mail from England or Spain with all their pamphlets and train routes and tons of stuff we'll never be able to read. Today we got our French and Spanish phrase books from Amazon (and Rick Steves, bless his little travellin' heart) and, as always, we opened the door before the mail guy even reached our stairs, way too many kids and too much chipper-ness for 9am. Poor mail guy. And things will just hit me- like how I'll stand in front of actual prehistoric cave paintings and walk where Caesar walked and sleep in a monastery- are you kidding me??? Yeah, it's still very, very fun.

On another note, the kids and I tried the garage sale for the second time and made $53. John said we wouldn't make anything. Ha. We shared a mozza burger and bought travelling shoes for Maddie and Ethan. So accomplishment is a pretty good feeling right now, too.

But if I don't get to the phone (I'm looking at a lot of missed calls on my display right now!) don't take it personally. Just know that I'm buried in a pile of boxes and travel books, probably cross-eyed and with my tongue hanging out. Maybe even drooling, I don't know.

15 DAYS!!!!

Angie

Garage Sale Insurance

2008-09-03T10:02:00.000-07:00

I'm used to posting whenever I have a compelling thought, hence the infrequence, but now that our blog is only travel stuff, its harder - especially since we haven't left. Its not as if I can say "Golly, Julius Caesar's tomb was sure smaller then I imagined" or "Ethan peed in the Trevi Fountain this morning, that Ethan, what a pee er." For now, I am reduced to pontificating on itineraries and packing lists or reflecting on my pre trip feelings. Yawn. I suppose I could rant and rave about our budget airline that keeps sending us "due to operational reasons we are forced to cancel blah blah blah email" but I'll save that for the witty wife. Speaking of wife, welcome back wife, we've missed you in blogville.

We tried to have a moving sale last weekend. Our goal was enough to pay for our travel insurance. I woke up early, placed the colourful signs in strategic places, picked up some Tim's and returned determined to sell. The first 2 hours went ok. We sold 104 books to the daycare across the street as well as our Entertainment package (Tv, Dvd/Vcr and stand). The next 8 hours we made $50. That's $6 an hour to barter in the freezing cold with people determined to get a couch for $10, a shelf for $5 and a painting for $2. And don't even get me started on the motha flippin stuffed animals. "How much for this one?" "$2 sir. "What about this one?" They're actually all 2 dollars sir. "uh huh. What about this one?" *Holds up another stuffed animal* That one? $45. Or free, if you die. The next day, the kids lugged everything out again determined to add to our pot. I hate Garage Sales. Besides, who really needs travel insurance? Right?

John

P.S. Right?

back to 21 days

2008-09-01T08:32:00.000-07:00

We thought we were so clever when we discovered this airline and their $300 tickets to London. Shaking our heads at the other airlines, snickering at how they may outsmart the average traveller, but not us. Well now I'm just embarrassed. There's a reason most people fly with British Airways and not So-Ur-Broke Discount Air. It's to avoid faulty and dangerous flight equipment (last month), departure date changes (twice), and horrible food (so I hear). I won't tell you which of those ranked higher on my list of airplane dos and don'ts, but seriously, when you have stuffed chicken breast and tiny salt and pepper shakers on one hand and BBQ bun in a bag on the other... come on.

This morning was departure change #2, which puts us at leaving on the 21st, not the 19th. We told the kids to put their rip off calender on hold for a few days, but we'll wait on any other changes for now. I guess it's not that bad. If we miss something so be it. We're still going (at some point) and we can afford to do this because of the deals we found in the dark alleys of Google Cheap Flights to London. Maybe this just needs to be part of the adventure- Oh look! We're not leaving next week but right now! And we're flying into Constantinople- ha that's funny! And fun!

Anyway, here's me, shaking my finger at Flyglobespan, but after that, I'll hang my head and hop onto their hard seats and pillow-less overnight flight. Because that's how we do things here in the land of budget travel. (From this point on, don't take any travel advice from the Closes).

Angie

Le Petit Moulin

2008-08-28T08:43:00.000-07:00

This is where we'll be staying for 18 days in France (Oct 1-18). Click here for interior pictures, if you're an interior picture kind of guy. This gem is a 16th century stone mill cottage - 5km outside of Sarlat, a medieval village from the 14 century that still has a weekly market. Sarlat is approximately 1 hr from Bordeaux, that's correct, the wine place. Word is bottles of quality wine can fetch for as little as $7-$10 if bought directly from the Vineyard. What's up Vineyard. It's us again.

As fancy as it looks its actually cheaper then virutally all hotels and even hostels in France (who charge by the bed). Cottages are great this way, especially for a family of 5. We're also staying in a cottage in England the week before. More on that in a later post. The real bonus of the cottage is its kitchen. We'll be able to buy most of our food from the market and prepare our own meals, saving us hundreds of Euros.

Foux du Fafa.

John

And the winner is...

2008-08-26T13:46:00.000-07:00

Kyle, of course!

But that's the end of the story. The beginning went something like, "Hey, John and Angie, let's go to the Olive Garden." "OK, small group. Sounds like fun." "Babysitters are at the church." "Excellent."

Who knew that such a nice group of church goers could be so sneaky? Tsk. We showed up to a whole lot of clapping and cheering and, my personal favourite, cameras. At least one, which is enough to send someone like me into hibernation, but I stayed. All for John, which totally proved worth it when Tyler made fun of him and played his John Close video. Well done, Tyler- you had John mannerisms (Johnerisms- there's a lot) that I hadn't even noticed before! Nice things were said, too (thanks Suneetha, Becky, Ty and Wayne), and John and I sat in front of everyone blubbering like babies. Embarrassing, yes, but in a really nice we feel loved sort of way.

I want to mention the magical tree, but John posted on that already. Check here, and then tell him that we're writing on our travel blog now. Let me just say that we were totally overwhelmed by our friend's generosity and we will now be making stops in Greece and Turkey, the two places we were most sad to pass up! And we'll be doing it in style, let me tell you. If we're capable of style, but I like to think we have it in us somewhere. We'll see.

A couple of other highlights: Stephanie heckling who ever was on mic, Sarah and Josiah exposing our vastly irresponsible natures (yeah, it was funny), John trying to climb a ladder hands free- that's my man! And then there was Hope's name that blog contest. Lots to chose from, so here's my runners up list:

1) Where are we? (Things like this are frequently said in our family)

2) I held it for 18 hours and other tales form the back of the chicken bus (of course this was in our top three)

3) European Your Pants (a bit of theme here- what vibe do we give off exactly?)

Sorry guys, we're just not going to do a pun on our name, which rules out about 80% of you. Maybe... next time?

Hope also mentioned a prize, and then informed us that we were in charge of figuring that out. No problem. We're still working on it, but I think it may involve Cooking for the Closes!!! or Close Kids Adventure!!! We'll get back to you, Kyle, but seriously- thanks for the title! And everyone- thanks so much for a very special night. We will never forget it!

Angie