A Strange Year

As years of our lives go, this has been a weird one. Peppered with everything you can think of, good and bad, it leaves a more bitter than sweet taste in my mouth than many others before it.

We have known a lot of trials and pain this year. More than any other years, we have known pain, suffering, and unhealth in our own lives and the the lives of those close to us. Even in the lives of remote relatives and friends, for some reason, we have seen more sickness than health. Our loved ones have been through some close calls, and we have, too.

Our friends and family have lost pets and aunts and uncles, some of them parents and brothers. There should really be no ranking for pain. Pain is pain – however close or remote it is from you. It's been a great year of loss for many of us and around us.

And then, there was our house, a brand new one poorly built, and our efforts to keep it from falling apart. We weathered two hurricanes in one month while fixing leaks everywhere. We think we're OK now, but the stress of all that just about moved us to a rental place. We would have been grateful that we could have done that!

Stressful trips of planes and luggage lost or delayed started off a year of travels.

As we age, we look closely at our friendships. We're more choosy and selective and this year we have felt the bitter-sweet taste of lost friends we once cherished. But you know what they say: “ A friend you lose is not worth keeping, in the first place.” So, we learn, we mourn, and we move on, grateful for the lessons.

All this personal stuff happened on a backdrop of more chaos in the country and in the world. My heart cries every day for the status of things in the world, but especially in this country. A country that so many of us gave up so much for, only to come here and bleed disappointment. We are now the perpetrators, the cruel and heartless inhumane power, we are now the illogical, anti-everything-reason monsters we were trying to fight a while ago. I wish there would be something someone can do drastically. I wish we would stop hiding behind lame and cheesy political excuses and would truly take action that would help people. Hungry, homeless, abused, defenseless people. Children, even.

I wish we would stop speaking in double standards: I wish we would stop saying in this country that 'no man is above the law' in the same sentence with 'you cannot indict a sitting president.' I wish we would stop saying we are the greatest democracy in the world when our simple, most fundamental right as a citizen, the right to vote, is not a democratic one. I wish we would really stop lying to ourselves in false patriotism and truly understand what we see in the mirror.

And I wish we truly remember who we truly are: I wish we would remember that if it were not for the thousands of 'illegals from sh*thole countries' most of us would not be here today. I wish we remembered who we were and how we and ours have started.

The talk of this wall recently is making me double over with stomach sickness. Besides being grossly unreasonable and downright laughable (a stupid dream concoction of an old and sick mind), it is not what the world is and wants today. And let me tell you some reasons why: I have a bowl of oranges in the kitchen; the bowl was given to me by my sister's Romanian mother-in-law who has been living in Germany for close to 20 years; I got a message right before Christmas from a high school (Romanian) friend who is now a doctor who lives in Denmark: she wanted my American recipe of turkey and stuffing so she can cook it for her family this year. I work from home. Before 10 AM every morning I am in anywhere between 1 and 4 meetings with Armenia every day. If you look at my Facebook page, I have friends from four continents and this is the norm for most of us, not the exception. You see, the world is already border-less, in people's minds. No wall, and I don't believe no law, could stop that now. Dreaming of it is dystopian and a huge waste of energy and time to say the very least.

I never started my days with news first, like I have this year. Because I am always very afraid there might not be a world we could go back to any day now … Some days truly feel hopeless. I have read more about hope and gratitude this year than any other year. I think we all could use some of this reading nowadays.

There have been happy times, too. Seeing my ever weakening and feeble elders in Romania this past spring was a bright spot, however painful. Getting to hold them and hug them was a treat that I will savor for many months, possibly years to come. Taking a trip with my sister to New York City and welcoming her into her fourth decade was another blessful gift.

My husband and I took trips to know our new state, and we visited The Grand Canyon for the first time together. Taking my nephews to the Ocean together for the first time and seeing them jump waves was one of the highlights of this year.

We loved, we gave, we spent time with dear and true friends and family whether in our new and not-so-perfect house or their open homes. We have been grateful for jobs, the one we got and the one we kept this year, for the stress of not having them is a true and scary burden.

When I started this year I committed to collecting a picture every day of the year. Just to remind myself how much beauty truly is in the world and to document how much one could travel and grow and enrich oneself even in sad times.

Click the picture below to see the pictures from the last month of the year, as well as all the other 300+ ones. I am grateful for every glimpse of this. Enjoy!

It's been a year with ups and downs, framed by sickness and pain. A social media meme showed this message this morning and this is my only wish for all of us for 2019: “I don't want 2019 to bring me anything. I just don't want it to take anything away.” Amen to that and a happier, more hopeful new year to all!

Good Night, Sweet Princess

I don't remember when she wandered into my parents' yard. Could have been 18 years ago, when they got their first dog, or could have been later. She was a stray, although she never looked like one. Dad always said she belonged to the neighbor, but I am not sure: she spent more time in my parents' yard than in any other place on the street.

She was smart, as cats go, and she was sassy, as they go, too. But less so than any other cat, she was quiet. She was unobtrusively inserting in the life of our family, and mostly in our hearts forever, without as much as a meow. She never begged per se, but she always sat on the outside window sill of the kitchen waiting for food.

More than any other cats, she was gorgeous. I am yet to meet an ugly cat, really, but she was exquisite. She had the markings of a Siamese cat, with piercing blue eyes, but maybe not with the same body style – more short and dense and less athletic, less tall. I truly thing she was a mutt, but not less beautiful for it.

My first ever Instagram picture was that of Bella

Bella was never officially my parents' cat, but they treated her always like she was. Their first dog never barked at a human, but he barked at Bella (and all the other cats of the neighborhood). He, even, knew she did not belong there. But she came there every day, religiously to nibble at food from her bowl which dad put on the kitchen window sill so the dog won't bother it. She spent many winters in my parents' laundry room, because mom would have no pets anywhere else in the house, otherwise.

I did talk about her as “my parents' cat”, but she was really my dad's. He is the animal lover in our midst and he infected both me and my sister with the love for cats. Mom could take pets or leave them, but mostly leave them.

She spent an errant life, really, of a stray cat. She would perch on top of roofs and jump from yard to yard, to avoid the busy street filled with crazy drivers, and naughty kids who would surely torment her. This made her smart.

She hoped from yard to yard, but I think she was fed only at our house. My parents were probably the only ones on the street going to the pet store for Bella. She scavenged what she could off the other neighbors, from trash and dropped food. But she had her designated food and water bowls at our house.

I never heard the neighbor ever looking for her when she was gone from their yard.

When we were there, she came and snuggled and said 'hello' in a quiet, shy voice. She loved to be petted and loved on. She did like humans, to some extent, after all, but never expected anything from you. She purred in content when you paid her any amount of attention. She was tame. She was a stray but definitely never feral.

This fall, she disappeared for a few days. Dad was besides himself with worry. We knew she was old, but I don't think we ever knew exactly how old. Dad thought for sure it was “her time” and she would probably never come back. But she did. Dad said she came back “fatter.” Well, they only found out recently that she was actually sick: her abdomen started swelling up with fluid and this past week she was the “fattest” she had ever been although she all but stopped eating or drinking.

Today, they found her on the floor of the bathroom, motionless. She was breathing, but that's about all. It was time. And she knew it. She had come back home, for the final stop. Like the owner that he acted as all these years, it was dad's “job” (the hardest job in the world) to help her through her final hours.

She was such a big presence in the landscape of my parents' house. She had, like all pets do, the superpower of really inserting themselves deeply into our hearts, right where our softest, most delicate, and most vulnerable spot lives.

She leaves a big hole in our hearts. My heart cries mostly for my dad, but for all of us who knew and loved her, over the years. I hope she is now truly free to roam, without cars, naughty neighborhood kids and dogs to chase her. And I hope she tells all our other furry friends that we miss and love them, too.

Rest, sweet girl. No more worries where to spend the winter. You will always be part of our family.

This is the last picture I took of her, this past May. It looks like she prophetically is waving us 'good bye.' Sweet girl! 

So Much More than Sunsets. Southern Florida in the Winter

I am sitting on my couch under a soft blanket, sipping hot coffee and looking at my Christmas tree, all decked out. As I do this on my last day off this year, I am flipping through my Key West and Miami pictures from our Thanksgiving trip this year and a longing for warm air, blue waters, and fresh seafood overtakes me …

I wanted to take some time to remember this trip and share a few favorites.

I remember looking up Key West on google, and there was a question: “What is Key West famous for?” The answer was surprising to me: “It is famous for sunsets.” Something of a cop-out, I think, and promptly chuckled to myself: “A boat in the middle of the ocean could be famous for that. That answer is unfair as much as it is limiting.” Although I am a nut for beautiful skyscapes of all kinds, Key West should be famous for a lot more things than just sunsets.

Here are my top 10 favorite memories from this trip and they cover Key West as well as Southern Miami:

1. Chase the history. There is so much history in Key West. You can tell from the age of the building, and the condition of the bricks and the cobble stone around the marina – whip-lashed by many of years of rain, salt, and many hurricane winds. I have always been fascinated with island living. Too much of a control freak myself to really let go and be isolated from the world, totally remote and truly disconnected, how people manage to build houses and a life without the comfort of land connections boggles my mind. The Overseas Highway that connects Key West to Miami did not open till the beginning of the 20^th century. The oldest house in Key West touts its foundation in 1829 and I am sure lots of people lived these parts even before then. Stepping back into this old house is like traveling in time – the house still has limited running water to the main house and looks and feels very much like a two hundred year old house. The smell, the creaky floors, the crooked windows, the lack of modern commodities like A/C keep the authenticity of its age intact.
                                    
                                            The Oldest House in Key West (1820's)
   There are other historic landmarks to visit: Hemingway's house, of course, famous not only for the polidactyl cats, but also for chronicling the life of one of the most famous, loved, intriguing authors of the modern era; president Truman's Little White House – the working vacation home that president Truman kept; the Audubon House, named after the famous ornithologist John Audubon, but with a dark and obscure past that only partially and very obscurely connects it to him. These are just the few historic landmarks we visited, but there are many others. You will hear stories about how the houses were built and how the gardens were put together, stories about their founders, either well-to-do, rich land folk, or wreckers, an occupation partial to these parts – folks who salvaged goods from wrecked ships and got a good penny from reselling them.
                                  
                       A rooster asleep on a fence at The Audubon House
                                                      in Key West
   Just walk the streets of Key West and the history will call your name like a mermaid. Skip the cheesy stores and visit one of these homes instead, and learn something about American history, as it was written in these parts.
2. Take a trolley tour of the city. There are various routes you can sign up for, but get the one that covers the most ground. I believe all of them are narrated and the driver will share things that you cannot find in any brochure. They will also have tips for what restaurant to go to for the best breakfast or a frozen treat, and where Jimmy Buffett's recording studio is located.
3. Walk Duval Street. Everything that you need is on this street. It runs clear across the island, East to West, and at 1.25 miles-length total you can walk from one end to another in a very short time. It has over 100 restaurants and many museums and other attractions to visit. If you are there for the shopping, many gift stores are stringed along this street as well. This street reminded me a lot of New Orleans: some restaurants have live music non-stop, mostly island, or cajun music. All the restaurants are open to the streets and you almost always sit under huge fans. It's the open air living that is very common to island living. The street is a good example of the heart of Key West. You can feel the heart of this city beating with each live music venue you encounter.
4. Even if you don't visit Harry Truman's Little White House, make some time to walk the Truman Annex neighborhood in which it is located. I always thought that beach living means either white washed houses raised on stilts, creaking under the rotting foundations, or huge 20+ bedroom mansions with thick gates and not ever affordable to the common person. The Truman Annex homes are neither. Still on the high end of the spectrum as far as affordability goes (as a quick search for this address shows on Zillow), they are beautifully architected, Old South homes, with thick pillars and plantation shutters. Each one of them is wrapped in a thick garden of palm trees with orchids growing on their trunks, exotic fruit trees and grasses. The homes are jewels hiding within the bountiful greenery around them, behind short, mostly metal fences. More like roadhomes than standalone homes, but separate buildings nonetheless. The neighborhood is lush and quiet, coquette and well groomed. An iguana might be perched here and there on a fence or on a hibiscus bush. You forget for a minute you are in Key West, feet away from the cheese of the t-shirt stores and frozen key lime pie on a stick covered in chocolate.
                               
                  An iguana perched on a house fence in The Truman Annex
                                           neighborhood in Key West
5. Eat some conch chowder. I know, this may sound like a cliché: we're in The Conch Republic, as Key West names itself, do we really have to fall for it?! And the answer is yes, absolutely. Please do! Several places make it and they were all good, but my favorite was the Manhattan style conch chowder at Caroline's Cafe on Duval Street. That tomato soup was probably stewed for hours on end to squeeze every little bit of sweetness from the tomatoes. The conch bits were generous in size and very filling, I mistook them for beef, they were so hearty. Conch by itself, I decided, has a mild flavor, not very impressive, but this chowder was something else! Also, if you want fried conch, get the conch strips, and not the fritters. I found that if the conch meat is mixed with bread and other things (like in the fritters) you end up with a mouthful of fried bread bites with no trace of seafood. So, the simple conch strips, battered and fried are more illustrative of actually eating the seafood than the fritters are.
                                            
                                 The conch chowder and the shrimp po' boy
                                                  at Caroline's Cafe 
6. Go up to The Southernmost Point, but skip the insanely long one-hour line. There is a line of tourists wanting to get their picture taken with the infamous landmark that marks this point in the American landscape. Rather, cross the street and take a picture from across it – you will have some crowds in the background, but you will have them being up close anyway. The buoy is very visible from across the street too, and you save an hour of standing on the hot pavement to take the same picture. With the time you gain back, turn your gaze towards the beach behind and around the buoy and watch the pelicans diving for fish and the iguanas basking on the rocks.
7. Stop by a less traveled, less advertised, random key and take in the landscape. We took a side road on Big Pine Key and drove through neighborhoods and into the natural preserves around them. We drove among the mangrove forests at the edge of the water until we reached a “Road Ends” sign. We spotted key deer which are the smallest deer in North America, and known for being hard to find. They were by the side of this very desert road and super friendly. They posed for a while for us, smiling, it seemed. We were actually looking for the No Name Pub - which was recommended to us – the oldest bar in The Keys, apparently (although I think they might compete with Sloppy Joe's of Key West for this title). This pub is famous for having dollar bills stuck all over the interior, about $60k worth, I believe some sites document. The bar itself, although quirky, was not that impressive, but the trip to get to it revealed another layer of beauty of these parts: crystal clear waters, reefs that stretch on forever, forests growing from The Atlantic, and deer …
                                   
                                                      Key deer on Big Pine Key
                                            
                                       The many dollar bills at No Name Pub
8. While in Miami, definitely go all the way to South Beach. I recommend the Art Deco Museum, just to understand a few things about this architecture and its place in America. Then, walk outside and take in the buildings. Each one is unique. Try to identify the architectural elements you learned about in the museum in each one. Makes for fun sightseeing. Feeling the beat of the street is magical – even if you have not seen the entire city of Miami, you sense that South Beach is one of those destinations where the soul of the city really vibrates and where you can really feel it pulsate. Just the heart of a place, distilled to its essence. The constant music and noise, the carefree tourists here to reinvent themselves and to be someone else than they are at home, the drifters in expensive convertibles, here just for the next thrill, the welcomeness of the locals is all part of the Miami vibe. Definitely make time for it.
                                
                                                    South Beach at night
9. Although South Beach is a must see, I do not recommend eating there. Although the food is good, the tripled and quadrupled prices are not worth it. Don't fall into the trap of the hosts luring you in for “Happy Hour.” The Happy Hour prices are huge in South Beach and the options are very limited. You'll end up buying something from the regular menu and they will be mad at you (they want you to get the oversized drinks so they can make their tips) and pay triple what you should be paying for a skewer of five shrimp. Instead, go to South Beach for the atmosphere and a nice walk, and go inland, on Biscayne Bay (where all the cruise ships take off) to any one of the five star hotels that have gourmet restaurants without the hassle and probably just as delicious and unique. It's Miami and they are all competing for the most and the best and the finest.
                                   
                                  The giant drinks at a South Beach restaurant
                           (notice the scale between the Corona bottles
                                                                             and the glasses)
10. Definitely try to get a non-stop flight to Miami from wherever you're coming. You want to spend the least amount of time on a plane and the most amount of time on the ground visiting, eating and taking in the sights. I also strongly recommend the drive from Miami to Key West, instead of flying directly into Key West. The drive on the Overseas Highway, across all of the Florida keys is an experience all in itself. Marvel at the amount of water all around you, stretching up to where it flows off the edge of the earth, it seems. Driving it down at sunset increases the sense of wanderlust. And pick your favorite key and stop for a little. You'll be surprised what it hides.

And as a bonus, yes, when in Key West, wander over to Mallory Square, on the West side of the island, to watch the sunset. For maximum visibility, go early and find a table right next to the railings at Margaritaville in Mallory Square. Sip a beer with a lime in it, and have a snack, then sit comfortably in your chair and wait for the sky show to start. This way, you ensure no crowds between you and the water. It is the perfect ending to a day filled of adventure.

I happen to think that every sunset is special. Every sunset is a reminder that the world still moves and things are still in balance. I also think there are no two sunsets alike. Ever. The light is different with every one, the clouds are different, and even the color of the water is different every day. There is something extra special about sunsets in Key West, though: after driving to what seems like the end of the planet, watching the world saying “good night” to light is magical in its intrinsic closure. You do have a stronger sense of ending and complete and irreversible finish, than in no other place. What is there to see beyond the last spot on the planet?! Nothing but a complete surrender to the water and to the skies. Key West gives you this feeling like no other place. But the rest of the reasons to go visit are worth this trip, too. I hope you go and I hope you agree. Here's to having a nice trip and making your own “top 10” list soon!

The famous Key West sunset. Click the picture to see the album of this trip. 

A Picture a Day. November 2018. On Romania's Birthday

Today, my original home country of Romania turns 100. For a small country in the middle of a Sea of Slaves, it did a good job during these 100 years: won two wars, threw out a regime, shot its dictator in cold blood, became a member of NATO and the EU, gave the world many amazing people, like Nadia Comaneci and Mircea Eliade. Those are the good things. It messed things up plenty, as well ... but we don't want to get into those ... It's a special day. 

It's a little bit unfair: when I think of Romania, I always see a country much older, with much deeper and thicker history than the United States. And, in truth, it is. But Romania as you know it today, mostly, has been around only since 1918. Before then, we were a bunch of provinces, all belonging to different powers, although all one deep-inside. 

Although I think of where I come from with true love and appreciation most days, although Romania is where my roots still are, very firmly, implanted, I feel more deeply connected with the people there than with the country itself. I feel like the country, or the place I am from is the country or the place I am in at-this-moment most times. 

Even back in the day when I was growing up, I figured I had this fluid soul, that kind of belonged to where it was at the moment ... The cities of Romania, the isolated mountains, a train in the middle of the farmland, a beach on the Black Sea Coast, and everywhere in between. 

This fluidity has kept me moving to this day. Just this month I have wandered between the mid-mountains of North Carolina all the way to the bottom of the American land, in Key West, Florida. 

My wanderings this month are documented in this album:

Click the picture to see the month of November 2018 ...

For better or worse, Romania is where I saw the light of day for the first time on the first day of my life. The place where I learned how to write, and read, how to write in this English language. The country where I loved first. Where I hurt first and cried first. It's my alpha point ... It will always be. No matter where I am, there will always be only one beginning of all beginnings ... 

Happy Birthday, Romania! You did well for yourself. Here's for the next 100! May you have peace, stability, and grace. 

The Grand Canyon: The Yin and the Yang of The American West

All blogs have been past due this year. It's no one's fault but my own. I seem to find little time just to chill and write anymore, much to my heart's discontent and desperation. But delay no longer …

We returned to the Southwestern desert about a month ago. Lucky as I have always been, I have reasons to go back for work, and because work would be no fun without play, I plan to see a lot more of the desert when I embark on these mandatory trips. Although I love the trees of North Carolina, the rivers, lakes, and ocean, too, my soul craves the desert every so often. Just like you crave a sunburn in the dead of winter.

We drove down from Utah into Arizona, to see The Grand Canyon for the first time together. We made Page, AZ our base-camp, and we traveled from there to The South Rim the first day and to the North Rim the second day.

I have said this before numberless times: anyone should experience driving through the desert at least once in their lifetime. The open space, the desolation, the solitary confinement between you and God, the hopelessness of hitting nothing but red and dust and rock and short and spikey prairie grasses does things to your brain and your heart that you can only feel; I cannot put into words well enough to tell you what that feeling is like. Not to mention that it is probably different for each one of us. One thing that I know for sure is that the desert will never leave you untouched, unstirred to your core, and unmoved... It's one of those experiences that I guarantee will change your life, or at the very least your perspective.

Every time when I drive through the desert and I take it in through my eyes, and nostrils, and ears, my mind brims with its vastness and never-endingness. There is some similarity, in my head, between the vastness of the ocean and that of the desert. No wonder that they tell us that the desert was once an ocean … I don't find that impossible one bit.

Page is a little bedroom community, it seems, for folks vising the Lake Powell and Glen Canyon areas, or The Grand Canyon. I know one person who grew up there, but even he says “it was only temporary.” This is the land of The Southwest, where adobe houses and Mexican food are good friends, where Navajo Indians hail from, and where peachy-pink sunsets are born. If you're quiet enough, you can hear the many centuries of history this land endured, from the territorial wars with Mexico, to those of The White Men submitting The Indians. The thousand years of traditions that the Colorado washed by, most of them unknown and undocumented, but only undug and guessed at by curious, lonely, university savants.

As many millions or billions of people in the world, I had seen The Grand Canyon in many pictures, magazines, movies, commercials and the like. I had some idea of what it would look like. But of course being on the edge of this big gaping hole, seen even from Space, is different than looking at a postcard. The one thing that shocked me was the incredible difference between the South and the North Rims. They are truly as different as the Yin and the Yang of a Chinese symbol.

Grand Canyon -  South Rim 

The South Rim is what we saw first. This is the Yang, full of light, screaming bright red and orange hues, and flooded in sunlight. This is the poster child of Arizona, as we all imagine it. It was also the most crowded and busiest. As gorgeous as the landscape was, I would not be fair to not tell you, it was also the most touristy and somewhat cheesiest. If you looked past the human factor, it was as saintly and majestic of a cathedral as all the other God given beauties of the world!

Grand Canyon -  South Rim 

Our world got darker the second day, and not just because it started raining pretty much as you left our hotel in Page. Driving to the North Rim was incredibly similar to driving towards Yellowstone National Park or maybe Glacier National in Montana. We could tell we were much higher than when we were at the top of the South Rim, the day before: the pine forests and the ashes never seem to grow lavishly and freely under 8000 or so feet. Once we stopped at the Visitors' Center for the North Rim, it all seemed dead. Deserted and locked away for the winter. No facilities were open, and the handful of visitors were pretty quiet and reserved. Not the cackling crowd of the day before, on the Yang Rim. It was also cold. Bitter windy and cold.

Grand Canyon -  North Rim at Bright Angel Point

You cannot park right next to the rim in The North, like we could the day before. After you park you have to hike a ways through the parking lot, and then through trails to actually arrive at the end of Bright Angel Point and see the canyon below. The canyon walls here are closer to each other, and much, much darker: the landscape turns from the brilliant red and orange into dark greens and blacks in The North. It is as if you are not even looking at the same formation anymore. The Colorado is down there, you think, for you cannot see it, and the terraces slope down towards it, just like you would expect. Yet, the closeness of the two cliffs and the dark colors make you wonder if you are standing at the top of the Going to the Sun road in Glacier National, or truly at the top of The Grand Canyon.

On the North Rim you are in the midst of the Yin of The American Grand Canyon: dark, secretive, hidden, obscure and remote. If you ever saw The North Rim out of the context of its state, and were asked to place it in any American State, Arizona would never come to mind. There was a bluish – grayish haze in the air, maybe the earlier rain that day, or maybe the cold breath of the canyon vegetation. Who knows?! If the South Rim looked like a Florida naked body, scorched in the sun and ready for the next fruity drink, the North looked like an old, grumpy bear, heavy and dark, wanting to be left alone, back turned towards the world while entering its caverns.

There was a strange mystery about The North Rim, a secrecy that one could not decipher. There was an eerie silence and no sound except the breeze through the trees around us echoing into the deep, dark valley below. You could stand unmoved and think the world is dead around you. And then, a baby snake crossed our path reminding us the world is still very much alive, yet.

One thing you cannot help but wonder about when you oversee such ancient, wild, and untouched beauty is the passing of time. I always wonder what such land looked like millions of years ago – I am sure it was different, but I am also sure it was just as gorgeous as it is today. What I hope for the world is that we are smart enough to keep this incomparable beauty untouched, keep its secrets hidden, its trails crooked and trees afresh for the millions of people that will come after us.

What I felt at the top of this huge gap was lucky: to be alive, to be able to move and get there, to be able to see, and smell, and taste the cold, dry air of the desert. I also felt grateful and moved that I am equipped with the right emotional package to understand the depth of the world in front of me, literal, or otherwise.

I could write volumes about how I felt and what I saw and not a word of it would help you understand the same that I understood when I was there. All I can advise you to do is make time from your busy life and go experience it: drive through the desert, search for the spots the most hidden and let your heart listen; let your eye watch. And come back transformed.

My sister and I have talked for years about how we must go away for a while, periodically, remove ourselves from our routines and recharge our batteries. If we don't do this a couple of times a year, just go, hide, and listen to the wind in the trees or a river, or the sound of the ocean waves, or the sound of deep, unshattered silence under the starry skies, whatever … we would never be able to get out of bed and do our daily routines ever again. We would never be able to face this crazy world with all the bad, disappointing news in it. This was one of those purging trips! Recharged and life counter is now back to 0.

I will close with some wiser and more talented words than mine, just to give you a better description than I could put together of this wide-open, universe-famous, all American gem:

“It seems like a gigantic statement for even Nature to make all in one mighty stone word. Wildness so Godful, cosmic, primeval, bestows a new sense of earth's beauty and size. . . . But the colors, the living, rejoicing colors, chanting morning and evening in chorus to heaven! Whose brush or pencil, however lovingly inspired, can give us these? In the supreme flaming glory of sunset the whole canyon is transfigured, as if the life and light of centuries of sunshine stored up in the rocks was now being poured forth as from one glorious fountain, flooding both earth and Sky." (John Muir)

Grand Canyon -  North Rim
Click the picture to view the entire album from this trip 

A Picture a Day. October 2018

What a month this has been! 

I have been everywhere, from the high to the lower end of this Continent and somewhere  in-between, too: from the Atlantic Ocean's beaches to the Rockies, while spending some time with friends locally and visiting with family from the Frozen North (aka Canada). All while cleaning up the house after two hurricanes. 

Some days I am not sure how I am still standing. Some days I forget what timezone I am in anymore or how long my commute is on a given day. 

The highlight of this month is hard to pick, because I hit two items on my Bucket List: 

1. I got to show my two nephews the Ocean. Experiencing their first time with them was priceless. Would not have wanted to miss it for the world!
2. I finally made it to The Grand Canyon. After living about 5 hours from it for seven years and never seeing it, we finally made the trip. 

Can't say it's all bad! At least personally. What is going on around us perplexes me every minute and still has me wondering if we have all been kidnapped and taken to a planet where all the rules, as we know them, have been reversed and distorted into some weird reality. But our lives are trying to stay afloat and continue to wonder at the immense beauty that still, shyly, peaks out around us. 

Click the picture and then click "next" to view this months's daily shots. 

Returning to Old Places and Discovering Something New. Always.

I am writing this as I am sitting in my hotel bed somewhere in The Rockies after climbing up the elevator while listening to the hotel radio playing “Linger” by The Cranberries. I remember where I was the first time I listened to this song and fell in love with the Irish band: I was in Romania and the year was probably around 1990 something ... How long I have come! How far I have traveled! ... This life truly is a trip!

This is my umpteenth hotel in the past two months which have had me traveling from the Atlantic to The Rockies, to the Atlantic and back to The Rockies again ... How I could manage to do so much travel while dodging two hurricanes still boggles my mind, but that is a topic for another blog...

For this one, I just wanted to stop and remember the fun times we have had, the new places I found and the old ones I have rediscovered during these past few months.

We started this marathon with a return trip to Asheville. We had not been there together for 11 years. Just saying that sounds wrong, but it is true. 

Asheville seems both stuck in a timeless warp and anew and fresh with new blood at the same time. The streets are filled with hippies, Krishnas, dirt, music, joy, laden with history and memories; a bon vivant-ness flows in the olden streets at dusk on a Saturday; the breweries abound and lure the traveler in with summer brews waiting to be savored, the mountains are a stone-throw away, ready to be explored. At the end of August, Asheville was still very hot. The city seemed a lot more crowded and a lot more happening than I remembered it ... That was the new part.


The Biltmore was gorgeous, in its everlasting beauty. The only thing that rivaled its beauty and richness this time around was an exhibit of Chihuly’s works of art - stunning beauty creations of massive amounts of glass and steel. The glassworks paired with the natural beauty of the gardens and the mountains, juxtaposed with the carefully detailed architecture of The Castle gave us a wonderful escape from our daily grind into a world all its own - grandiose, rich, timeless.

Chihuly at Biltmore was one of those things you'll remember as long as you'll live. It was not on my bucket list, but it so should have been. If you ever have the opportunity to see this artist's work, don't hesitate! How something so fragile can withstand so much nature and abuse is amazing to me. A great reminder of every one of us: we're so brittle but we all weather storms.

We had brunch at The Grove Park Inn, and that was hands down the most varied and plentiful brunch I have ever had anywhere. I thought for years that the brunches in Sundance or Snowbird, Utah were well done, but The GPI has them beat.  Till proven otherwise - the best. I usually go for the smoked salmon at these feasts, but I had not one but three choices of smoked fish with this one: salmon, trout, and mackerel, alongside any other seafood you can imagine, from shrimp, to oysters and lobster ... This just to name one kind of the many kinds of dishes they offer.

The majestic stonework at The Grove Park Inn

It’s amazing that we did so much in Asheville just in a one-night weekend. I am so glad we are back in these parts where we could escape to so many places within driving distance from us, on impulse and be able to see and do so much!


In September, we went to our first Triangle Heart Walk, which benefits the American Heart Association and gives the money to the research in our communities. I have participated in it before in other communities, and this has been a cause which I have supported, for obvious reasons (if you know me) for years. All I can say about this event is that it ... was ... hot. Not just hot, but exhaustingly hot ... We were wimps and walked 1 mile instead of the 3 because it was brutal! As a heart patient, it was a great meet: I always like to hear the stories of other people “like” me - we’re really all unique and every heart condition is different. This was my first time meeting a heart transplant patient and being every bit as amazed, in awe, and overwhelmed as I always thought I would be when faced with such an individual. He was an inspiration. There is something special about people who get to die a little and then come back, there is no doubt about this. None.


Also in September I got to jump on a plane and come to Park City, UT for a conference. It has always been melancholy to travel back to the place I called home: my first married, happy home, for seven years. A place where I had always dreamed I would live. It’s a bitter-sweet feeling to go back: I miss these parts but I know, in my heart, that I don’t belong here anymore. Park City was cool and bright gold from the changing aspen; a perfect backdrop for the start of the fall.

Aspen mountains on the lake in Park City, Utah

Back on the East Coast it was time to take my sweet, amazing nephews to the SC beach - one of them for the first time in his little 7 year-long life! Call me crazy, but for a childless person, I have always enjoyed traveling with kids. It is amazing to see how they step out of their comfort zone and explore a world they didn’t know that existed. We started by barely being able to pull them out of the house, and pry them away from their devices with more or less force, and we ended with not being able to round them back up and bring them back in the room when they discovered how much fun jumping over the waves or floating in the lazy river, or sinking in the pool is. For two kids raised in the frozen tundra of Canada the beach was “pure paradise.” They said as much. To see the sparkles in their eyes with every new “different” restaurant experience or shopping adventure is rejuvenating. Reminds us, old, and cynical people, that the world should never cease to wonder us, as long as we stay open and come out to meet it.

First time together jumping the ocean waves - a breathless moment in time. So grateful to have been able to give them this and share this with them.

In Park City, I wore sweaters and scarves. In Myrtle Beach, SC, I wore a bathing suit and thought I was literally melting, decomposing, surely dying from sun exposure ...


Again, Myrtle Beach is one of those trips back in time for me, but I always make a point of finding something new to explore even in my old timey places. This time was the Pier 14 Restaurant which is literally on the Ocean (on stilts, part of a pier) and which did not exist 20 years ago when I lived there. The grouper filet and the mashed potatoes were to die for! I can say I got my seafood fix during this trip, for sure, and as any respectable coast town theirs doesn’t disappoint.

Blaga (look him up: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucian_Blaga) says that "eternity was born in a village." I say that we see eternity with our own naked eye in every sunset we watch.

There is something of that when the sun is being born from the immensity of the sky and it's reflecting its birth into the immensity of the ocean ... Time just stands still forever ...

And after all that adventure, I am back in The Rockies for more work and maybe some play, too ... As exhausting as these past two months have been, and as much as I still miss home, I am very fortunate, lucky and blessed beyond belief to be able to do this much. Not just financially, not just through the grace of my employer, but also through the grace of God and the knowledge of all my doctors who keep me going at this speed in my advancing age (aren’t all our ages advancing?!), with my advanced health problems.


I am also grateful that the world we live in is, still, allowing to some extent for us to mov about freely and explore it deeply. This is no small gift especially nowadays! 

I will continue to push on, open more doors, discover more of what this life has to give me. One page at a time.

“ ... if you could return, don't let it burn, don't let it fade...” (The Cranberries, Linger)

A Picture a Day. September 2018

Although you would not be able to tell from the temperatures in the mid to upper 80's and 100% humidity or by the baby deer still visiting our back yard, it IS September and therefore fall'ish. 

I cannot believe, again, how fast this year's been flying by. This month's been about getting together with family, getting to walk around our town, for fun or for a purpose (like for our first Heart Walk in NC together), living through our first hurricane together, and one of us returning back West. 

The air is a little cooler but not much, the rain is plenty and the plants have gone plumb crazy, because I have azaleas blooming in my yard! The world is definitely astir. As usual: summer doesn't want to leave but winter is slowing showing its sprouts. 

The noise of the world still shouts louder than I would want to hear it most days, but the close world around us greets us every day with beauty and grace. 

For this month's picture, I picked this guy: he stopped by our yard earlier this month and he was flying kind of weirdly, kind of in a random pattern, like something was wrong with his wings or head. But he was friendly and unafraid, totally trusting when he landed on my husband's finger. Just like us, some days scared, some days hurt, but all days hopeful, I could see all of us in him.

Click the picture to see all the pictures from September 2018.
Happy fall, all! 

A Picture a Day. July - August, 2018

Toasty, humid summer days. We're definitely back in the South - humidity so thick you can taste it. Your pores can't breathe from too much water on a sunny day with no rain ... 

Thunderstorms. Pretty much daily, this year. 

We walked the streets in our hometown, went to the ballpark for July 4th ... Fireworks ... We tasted and judged beers in Ohio, and walked the gardens at Biltmore ... We watched humming birds in our back yard and walked the streets of New York City. 

These two months were nothing but packed full of stuff ... While the bigger world around us is still spinning out of control, I found some moments around me that still had some beauty and stillness left... 

Click the picture and scroll through these past two month's days ... 

(picture courtesy of my husband)