. . . jiggity jog--Ireland pt. 2

Rather than wear you out with in-depth explanations (I'm a teacher and, as you know, prone to verbosity . . .), I recommend that anyone with any interest in Ireland check out a book that influenced which sights we saw and helped feed my fascination with Ireland. "How the Irish Saved Civilization" by Thomas Cahill is a fast, easy read. The jist is that after Rome fell, Ireland was the center of education for all of Europe and the only place where a lot of ancient manuscripts survived. So much of our trip was centered around seeing where "the beacon of knowledge" was kept lit through the middle ages, and a lot of that was in ancient church centers. More trip details continued:

Saturday: Clonmacnoise (pictures 1 and 2) on the River Shannon in the heart of the island was founded in 548 and, despite being burned and plundered 37 times by various marauding hooligans (usually my Viking relatives), remained the center of Christianity in Ireland for as long as Ireland was in the hands of the Irish. It still has a collection of breathtakingly beautiful early Celtic crosses. Ellie loved jumping over the tombstones. Perhaps that was less than respectful, but she was happy and at least we weren't burning the place down. What was cool here was that on these crosses the Celtic art/culture blended so well--so you had ancient fertility symbols mixed with Christian symbols.
After we'd had enough ruins, we took a train ride through the pete bogs. As they dig up the pete for burning for the power company, they keep finding these thousands of years old bodies, not even decomposed. Our guide told us how many times they call the police, sure there's been a recent murder, only to find that the person's last breath was 4000 years ago. Is this starting to read like a National Geographic article? I apologize--enough morbidity. After our train ride, we hopped in the car and drove into the mountains. It was the kind of drive that, although there were pastures and castles to your right and your left, your eyes didn't dare stray from the teeny tiny winding road lest you hit a tractor or oncoming car.

Sunday: We hiked around Glendalough, which is a beautiful mountain valley holding two lakes (picture 3) and, of course, ruins of an ancient abbey. From there we headed in Dublin, where we stayed in the southern Dublin village of Dun Laoghaire. Again, we couldn't believe our luck that we'd just walked into another huge Irish party. The World Cultures Festival was happening right on the waterfront, where our hotel happened to be. There were thousands of people from all over the world, bands and street performers, food from seemingly every country to sample. It was quite a change to go from quiet walks in the ruins of ancient monastic communities to such volume, vibrancy and herds of people.

Monday and Tuesday: Dublin. With a fevered Ellie. Eleanor Peanut, who'd been such a trooper, was worn out and sick. We had to take Dublin a bit easier than we'd planned on, but we still enjoyed a lot between frequent breaks. Highlights: The open air bus tour through Dublin. (Picture 4) Seeing the Book of Kells (stunning Celtic manuscript of the four gospels from the 8th century) at Trinity University, Phoenix park, a few different pubs (love that there's no smoking in Dublin . . . pubs are a great place to relax when Ellie's fallen asleep in the stroller), Christ Church Cathedral (picture 5), the Clarence (Bono and Edge's hotel) and Dublin city hall museum. Ellie woke up much better on Wednesday morning, the day we flew home tired but happy.

Whew.

. . . jiggity jig--Ireland pt. 1

Making a trip to Ireland had been a dream for both Ryan and me. That it worked out so well with Ellie was a delight . . . we were pleasantly surprised with her willingness to konk out in her stroller while we took in museums, stay relatively upbeat while we hunted for our next meal and enjoy and take in whatever she could, wherever she could (graveyards, ancient abbey ruins). The result is that we were able to pack in a lot every day. I know a few Irish-philes will be interested in what we saw/did, but others don't need all the details. Here are a few thoughts on Ireland for those of you who are already yawning reading about someone else's vacation:

1. Super cheerful, upbeat folks there in Ireland. Wherever we stayed, whomever we talked with, it just seemed like people were honestly friendly. Ryan and I talked about this a lot. . . incredible that there is such endemic good will and kindheartedness in a group of people who have seen more than their share of tragedy and struggle. There seems to be a pride in one's ability to laugh or sing off misfortune and raise a toast to tomorrow. I don't want to romanticize the Irish (we saw a sad sight or two as well), but it was refreshing.
2. Surprise--Ireland isn't all Irish. Many of the folks serving in restaurants (less so in the traditional pubs) and working in hotels were immigrants, many from eastern Europe and Nigeria. I don't know why this surprised me, but it did. Apparently people from Catholic countries (Poland especially) like to immigrate to Ireland. With the exception of one older couple who expressed a bit of hesitation, the folks we talked to said they were happy to see a new group of Irish and thought it boded well for the future.
3. Ireland is so easy to travel in. Besides the obvious change for us that people speak English, it was also well set up with public transportation, parks and lots of places that gave out tourist information. Ireland is also easy to travel in with a young child. It's a very young country with lots of kiddos--I think we read that the average age in Ireland is 30! Everyone was happy to accommodate us and the sense we got is that children are viewed as a blessing, not an annoyance. We felt welcome.

And now for the play by play . . .
Friday: After a super freaky late Thursday night ride from the airport on the left side of the road ("are you sure this is the way we get on the highway?" "is that guy going to hit us?" "watch out!!!"), we slept in Drogheda, just north of Dublin. Friday was our pre-history, super-early history of Ireland day.
First stop was Newgrange, a 3000 year old (older than the pyramids) tomb of Irish kings that still aligns perfectly to let the sun in on the solstice. The first two pictures above are of Newgrange. . . the second with the tri-swirl detail is the design carved on the huge stone just outside the entrance. All beautifully mysterious.
Next we headed to the Hill of Slane. This is a notable place for a couple reasons: 1. St. Patrick lit a gigantic fire here on Easter morning in (probably) 433, calling all Irish to become Christians. The Irish were all set to have their own druid festival on the Hill of Tara that morning and saw St. Patrick's fire before they could get their own lit. The story is that the druid priest told the king that if he didn't go put out St. Patrick's fire, it would burn forever in Ireland. The priest and the king were eventually converted and the rest is history. What's neat is that the Irish hold both hills sacred . . . old Irish Christianity still retained the best parts of druid mysticism, with St. Patrick encouraging the syncretism. The 3rd picture is of an old abbey built on the Hill of Slane. 2. Perhaps not as historically notable, but important for some of us nerds, U2 recorded the appropriately titled album "The Unforgettable Fire" in nearby Slane Castle.
From Slane we went to Tara. (Picture 4, Ryan and Ellie on the highest point.) The Hill of Tara is where the ancient Irish kings, chieftans and priests congregated for ceremonies and important meetings. Viewed from above, there are decorative swirls in the ground made from long mounds, some of which are burial mounds. The Mound of Hostages is tomb similar to Newgrange in that it aligns to the sun for solstice. Ellie loved running up and down the "funny hills". We were cracking up that, here on one of Ireland's oldest and most sacred sites, sheep were grazing and you really had to watch your step lest you bring home a stinky souvenir.
To me, all three places were a beautiful and bit haunting. That part of Ireland is still quite pastoral and so we were looking out mostly on fields and pastures . . . it wasn't that difficult to imagine what it must have been like thousands of years ago.
That night we went to a small town nearby our B&B and felt crazily lucky to have happened upon the yearly traditional Irish music festival. We walked into the town, had a meal in the pub, and then walked into a crowd of people, half of whom were toting instruments. It was quite literally like walking into a tourist brochure for Ireland, but the only tourists around were the Irish themselves. The signs all in Irish, we learned by asking that this was a national festival, 3 days yearly, that most musicians in Ireland try to attend. Kids with penny whistles, old men with fiddles, there were folks there to play their music in every park, street corner and pub. We saw the opening parade (picture 5) with the clans holding flags of their coats of arms aloft and lustily singing their particular songs. The music was just starting, Guinness was flowing, but we had a wee one who had trampled through thousands of years of Irish history and desperately needed her bed. Ryan and I left feeling so fortunate to have had a small taste of the fun. Speaking of bed . . . although I've only got through what we did on the first day, mine is calling. Tomorrow I'll be less garrulous and just tell you where we went the rest of the time. Much love to you all!

home again, home again

Hello all! We're back in Maastricht after a fabulous trip to Ireland. Ellie was fantastic, we did/saw tons and are home safely. Much more to come, but here are a few teaser pics. (click on them to really take in the green)
1. Clonmacnoise castle ruins
2. Glendalough
3. Pub in Tullamore
4. Ellie reclining on graves, Newgrange
5. The scripture cross at Clonmacnoise (9th century)

Off to Ireland

We're heading out tomorrow for Ireland for a week. In Dublin and the surrounding villages/countryside we're hoping to follow in the footsteps of some of those cool Celts--St. Patrick, Bono . . . oh, and Ryan mentioned something about some chap named Guinness . . . We'll see how our wee lass does on this trip and report it all to you later. 'Tis quite exciting.

Cologne

We went the cathedral in Cologne today. I'd not been to such an ancient (1200), enormous structure and was rather awed by it. (The stained glass pics are for you, Daniel, but of course they do little to convey the enormity and beauty we saw. ) We ate a very German meal on the banks of the Rhine while being serenaded by an accordian player. The heaviness of the meal slowed down our walking a bit. My meal--one of just a handful without sausage--advertised that it had spinach and mushrooms and cheese. I wasn't sure what to anticipate, but took comfort knowing that at least I liked the prominent ingredients. It was, simply, a big bowl of creamed spinach and sliced mushrooms absolutely swimming in cheese. Once again, I was struck by how the midwest really seems to take a lot from Germany. In MN and neighboring states, we'd maybe try to jazz up that casserole with a little Campbell's cream of _______ and maybe a few of those Durkees friend onions on top, but we'd still slather on the cheese. There was also a sign for a restaurant that simply said "meat and potatoes" (in German) with an arrow pointing down to the door. Enough said. But there's something oddly relaxing about the familiarity we feel Germany, a place we've never been. Even odder are the "sightings" I keep having of friends/family. These are instances when I see people on the street who look so alarmingly like someone at home, that I kind of gawk. Normally these occur in the Netherlands and are connected to Ryan's family (who are all Dutch, so it figures). So far in Maastricht I've seen Marla (the closest match yet), Stacey and Grandma Betty. Today in Cologne I saw Paul from Memphis. Are you perhaps German, Paul?

the balcony and mindfulness

Mindful

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.

It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.

Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

~ Mary Oliver, from Why I Wake Early

Ellie and I are enjoying the rare treat of sunshine today. As Ellie slept I slipped out onto our balcony with a Mary Oliver book and a cup of tea. I read this poem moments before Ellie woke and, watching her play with water, didn't have to look far to see delight. School, by the way, went quite well yesterday. As my friend Gretchen said, it's a delight to watch your children do well all on their own.

Choo-choo

The weekend brought beautiful weather and we jumped at the chance to tour the surrounding countryside via old-school train. We passed through bucolic scenes of orchards, villages with church spires poking up out of valleys, and cows everywhere. We failed miserably in taking pictures of the scenery, but here are a couple of the train. The sitting compartments and the way they pushed carts with candy and drinks for sale through the train brought to mind Hogwarts Express. Speaking of--Ellie starts her new school tomorrow--we're hoping for an enthusiastic response. Sending love to all.

Europe old and new

Here we are in Monchau, Germany, with our Maastricht friends from Minneapolis. (That's Kai with Ellie, and in the next shot Gretchen is holding Emerson.) It's a gorgeous village set in a valley that drops suddenly from the middle of a flat forest. Gretchen and I took the kids there just for a change of pace last week. European tourists--many on motorcycles--flock there, but we seemed to be the only Americans. A couple things cracked me up: 1. I love the hodgepodge of old and new we find all over Europe. The mod gigantic foot just plunked down in a centuries old village square. 2. If you go inside the restaurants that surround the square, you would swear that you were in New Ulm, Minnesota. Everything from the smell of what was cooking (meat and potatoes), the faces of the folks sitting down for lunch and the decorative kitsch of wooden dolls and figurines of girls pushing wheelbarrows full of flowers was shockingly reminiscent of German small-town Minnesota. To be more correct, German small-town Minnesota is shockingly reminiscent of village Germany. I didn't know people could duplicate the externalities of culture that precisely. Perhaps this is because Monchau tries to retain a certain centuries-old feel for the tourists (pure speculation here) and is stuck about the time that all those folks brought their culture from their German homes to their new American homes. 3. Germany felt quite different from Holland. I need to go back to figure this out more, but my impression was that it was a bit more serious and less quirky than Holland and, well, more like a stoic small town in Minnesota. More on this when I can get back and see non-tourist Germany.
It's late--nearly midnight here--and Ellie's finally well again and sleeping soundly. In a few minutes it'll be August 10th, Ryan and my fourth anniversary. Thinking of that day a few years back, of all the good eggs surrounding us in Lanesboro. We feel so grateful for you all, and for all the new good eggs that are now in our lives. And we remember those sweet ones who aren't with us now. Thank you all for your accompaniment. Much love to you.

Health, Home, Things and Peace

Today at the park I watched a sparkling tow-headed toddler with all her baby chunk still on fall down and cry for her mother. A woman who must have been her mother's friend picked up the child and brought her to a frail young woman who was obviously battling cancer. The mother could not hold her daughter for long. The contrast between mother and daughter struck me cold.
Ellie has croup and has been feeling rotten and sounding worse. She'll be fine, this isn't too serious an illness, but watching her struggle with breathing after she's exerted herself with a laugh, cry or a little running is hard. She's not been sick much at all, and it's a new thing to look at her with an awareness of life's fragility. And, of course, the bridge in Minneapolis fell down. The war in Iraq, Darfur, Afghanistan, Congo . . . .
These things have been on my mind as we've worked to call our new apartment home. We love our space--the light, the neighbors and location, having a downstairs and up, the balcony, the patio. And yet and yet. We find we're struggling without a few amenities--no way to play music except piping it through the TV via the DVD player, no shelf for our books, no light that would allow for reading after dark, a bed for our guest bedroom (I can hear some of you reading gasping in the hopes that we get one soon--I think we will), etc. etc. And I have really been wanting some black boots--the bossy looking kind that all the European women wear with skirts, pants, always-- even tucking their jeans into them. Is this just a way we have learned to think? Always looking for the next thing to have, to wear--hoping for contentment to arrive with our next purchase? It's hard to sift through what would make our life here in Maastricht richer, and what is just the habit of wanting. I know this is not purely an American habit, but we seem to have perfected it. Pondering these things, I thought of Wendell Berry's "We Who Prayed and Wept":
We who prayed and wept
for liberty from kings
and the yoke of liberty
accept the tyranny of things
we do not need.
In plenitude too free,
we have become adept
beneath the yoke of greed.

This weekend we were to go to Dusseldorf, Germany, but Ellie's sickness prevented that. Instead, we puttered around the house and biked around Maastricht and greater Maastricht, Ellie asleep in the Burley. It was beautiful weather, so welcome after a rainy summer. Everyone was out--just sitting on the banks of the river, having picnics, riding bikes, sipping coffee and wine, savoring the sun in the company of friends and family. Our next door neighbor, a Dutch woman, said that of all the places in the Netherlands, Limburg (our province) is most known for slowing down, enjoying life. She's dreading her upcoming medical internship in the north, where the pace and priorities are different. After watching the Limburgers enjoy their days in the sun, I think they've nudged a little closer to the things that make for peace. I am sure the mother at the park has learned those things. And I'm sifting through them as well. In the end, we'll find we can do without some of what we thought we needed. Ellie will be well soon and I'll probably even get some black boots. (Anniversary in a few days.) But I hope this year, like my time in Tanzania or spent among family and friends, continues to nudge me closer to knowing, being grateful for, and choosing the things that make for peace. So peace, peace, to the far and near.

Minneapolis

Such scary, sad photos from Minneapolis. And the stories of survival (the school bus!) . . . amazing. Ryan woke me up this morning with the news and I've been waiting until a reasonable time to call folks, make sure all are well--Dan reports that all are accounted for. So odd to be here. I'm brought back to the Embassy bombings in TZ and Kenya--Lindsay and I, feeling at once far away and only miles away, watching the surreal footage from a dusty bar in Monduli that happened to have a satellite that week, wizened old Maasai warriors expressing their condolences as we translate what CNN is saying. West River Road was my calming commute for the last 2 years in Mpls--unbelievable that 35W is now lying on top of it. The Minnesota stoicism--the accents, the optimism, the understated amazement, the efficiency and willingness to help--it's all coming through CNN. What a great city, beautiful people--we miss you. Thanks to those of you who are checking in via e-mail--keep it coming. Thoughts/prayers/love to all.