Staycation 2020: All about Escaping from Home and Reality

As I am sitting on my back screened-in porch, ceiling fan blowing on me in the dripping wetness of still a summery forest in The South, listening to cicadas, frogs, and an occasional mourning dove, I cannot help but send many thanks to the universe for all this, and more. I am so grateful to be here, to be whole, to have a job and security and a roof over my head. The world we live in today makes all these sound like luxuries and having this in my back yard and the time to write about it make me feel nothing if not an opportunistic and ungrateful spoiled brat.

I am sitting here, recounting our staycation this year which passed as the last week closed and August 2020 with it. We were both tired and weary of work, news, sadness, no end in sight, disappointment, drained of one internet page after the other bleeding with bad news. Every. Single. Day. From. Every. Realm. Of the planet and of humanity.

We knew we needed a break, but we were feeling guilty for even dreaming about one, and working from home translates into working-all-the-time, because what is there to do?! Thus, we kept putting vacation off till the next opportunity to “go back to normal” would present itself. Only this year does not teach you anything if it doesn’t teach you that “normal” might never come, and instead you must learn to adapt to the inconspicuous “now”. So, guilty, and hesitant, we called it a day and asked for a week vacation which ended, as I mentioned, this weekend.

Because both of us are considered high-risk patients should we get Covid19, we don’t feel quite safe to stay overnight in hotels, or even to go to restaurants yet. So, grateful for our central North Carolina location that has you either in the mountains or on the beach in a matter of hours, we planned to stay home, eat home, sleep and shower at home and visit as many places as we can reach in 5 or so days, by taking a day-long road trip.  If you need a distraction from the every day and want to see our adventures in pictures, here they come:

Our itinerary:

Great Bend Park, Burlington, NC – The Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC – Around town in Apex, Cary, Pittsboro, NC – Washington, NC – Vollis Simpson Whirligig Park, Wilson, NC - Chinqua Penn Walking Trail with friends, Reidsville, NC – The Old Mill of Guildford, Oak Ridge, NC – Dinner with friends in Greensboro, NC

Day 1: Great Bend Park, Burlington, NC

I am not sure what I liked most about this: the drive there from our home or the park itself.

To get to the park you drive through the historic downtown of Graham, NC where The Courthouse reigns imposing over the busy weekend passers-by that are rushing to get their coffee and to-go orders from busy downtown restaurants, further on through the Glencoe Historic Mill District, where history seemed to have stood still for tens of years at least, everything as quiet as a graveyard.

The Great Bend Park is a small affair, on the banks of the Haw River, so mysterious and picture-worthy nonetheless. There are many trails, but they’re not too long, so we explored a couple in the hot afternoon. Once you get to the river, an enormous waterfall (looks man-made, as if for a dam) greets you in all its roaring beauty, splashing on river rocks and carrying in its current massive old trees. Butterflies line the trails here, colorful and fragile, begging you not to step on them, while dragonflies chase each other and make love in a sea of colorful blooms.

The rapids in Great Bend Park - Burlington, NC

Dragonflies in love - Great Bend Park - Burlington, NC

Day 2: The Biltmore Estate, Asheville, NC

Some might say we are nuts to drive three and a half hours for a place that we have seen before and for an exhibit that was only OK. I’ll say this was our longest drive and we knew this going in, and, in the end, we both agreed that it was all worth it. Just getting out of town and leaving it all behind (the further we went, the more we felt like we were truly leaving reality behind), this feeling alone, is worth every mile. Asheville greeted us with a wishy-washy rain that hadn’t quite made up its mind whether it’ll mean it or not. After about half an hour of annoying drizzle, it decided to hold it, and let us have a great outdoor time. We skipped The House and we went straight to the gardens which swallowed us in color, scent and a busy sea of bees, butterflies, hummingbirds, and many bugs we could not even identify.

For a pandemic weekday, the place was pretty busy. I’ll have to say that, even being mostly outside, the fact that we were watching whether everyone that crossed our path  would respect their physical space and not infringe on everyone else’s, or had a mask or not, or trying to keep ourselves further than 6 feet from everyone else took a lot of energy and possibly a lot out of the simple comfort of just being there and enjoying every second of it.  

After we walked through the gardens, we drove the beautiful Biltmore grounds to access two of the sites of the Downton Abbey exhibit. This was my second time seeing the exhibition, and I have to say: I preferred it when it was displayed in New York City. With that, I still consider it a must for the true Downtown afficionado.

We packed lunch and we ate fast food on the way back, for our meals. I wished we had time for a true picnic, but the driving was long so we had to cut time from somewhere, and in this case, it was from lunch/ dinner time.

Biltmore House - Asheville, NC

One of my favorite spots at Biltmore is the water garden, abundant with water lilies and lotus flowers

Not a very busy winery area, on the Biltmore grounds

Day 3: Around town in Apex, Cary, Pittsboro, NC

After the whole day of driving, outside of waiting in long lines in the sun of Asheville, we needed a break. We needed a day of no-alarm waking us up and catching up on some around-our-home errands and such. We also wanted to check out a new outdoor mall, touted by one of the area magazines as “The Best Outdoor Mall in North Carolina” – it was not all that, but it did have a lot of shopping to offer, along with some decent restaurants. We ordered some food to go from one of them at the end of our very short shopping spree: we didn’t realize that some retail stores now close at 6PM because they have reduced hours due to the pandemic.

One of the many things that will set this vacation apart from any other is the lesson that you can no longer take for granted small, simple things that were a given before. For example, store closings, or their limited hours, or one-way walking marked in a store (which seems to be more of a bottleneck than helping), or the freedom to speak with and understand someone in a really loud place when you both wear masks and cannot hear one another and cannot read lips, either. To say nothing about the constant watching of everyone, the constant disinfection, and paranoia when someone without a mask breathes in your space. Ah … we hope this too shall pass. Soon …

A new to me store that I discovered at the Park West Village outdoor mall in Cary, NC

Day 4: Washington, NC

On our fourth day, we made it to my absolute favorite trip of this week’s vacation! Let me tell you how I discovered this little gem of a town: completely by accident, and thanks to playing around on Apple maps, looking for the closest place to our home that is closest to The Ocean.

All renowned places I knew about that are on the beach or on Eastern rivers were way too far away, so I moved my search more inland, and started looking for a town on a canal or estuary or some such water-y landscape. I simply poked around with an Apple map in front of me and looked for towns, small cities, anywhere where I could find a named place on a water that connected it with the ocean to see how long the drive would be. And I came across Washington, NC – less than 2 and a half hours from our house. I had never heard of it. I’ve lived in North Carolina for almost 15 years now (in two stretches) and I never heard anyone ever speak of this town. I figured, it’d be a small, fishing town, sleepy as all that, with no chain hotels or restaurants, maybe a blinking stoplight and a gas station.

Well, what a huge surprise we were in for once we got there! Doing some more research before we left, I found out that it’s not quite that  small of a town after all, at 9000+ residents which makes it twice as populous as our current hometown. It is situated on the Pamlico river, which makes a beautiful (and rare) estuary before it flows into the Atlantic Ocean. It is considered “a gem of the inner banks” of North Carolina and truly, this time this was not an advertising gimmick. It is beautiful and if you live in NC, I encourage you to see it, when you can and as always, stay safe.

The minute we got out of our car downtown, to walk a short distance to the Down on Main restaurant where we had ordered lunch to go, we were hit in the face by the fishy, muddy smell of the Pamlico river. We knew we were close to “water”. The whole downtown was under a massive renovation – all sidewalks and streets were dug out and some areas were getting new cement poured in. Not many passers-by were in the streets, and the fact that there were no warning signs that streets might be closed told us that they either did not expect lots of people to be driving the streets (pandemic, I suppose?!) or that they would be done in a short time. Despite the limited number of people walking about, the town seemed vibrant and busy underneath the apparent quiet: all stores and restaurants were open, old, pre-war buildings were being renovated or upgraded or open for business, traffic seemed pretty steady on the non-dug-out streets.

We had our lunch in the shade, on our camping chairs in Festival Park, overlooking the Pamlico river and its personal boats and right next door to the North Carolina Estuarium which was closed due to the pandemic. After lunch, we walked the half mile of the waterfront walkway and then walked through the Downtown, as much as we could because construction did prevent us from seeing Main and Market Streets which seemed to have most of the more interesting destinations, like art galleries, boutiques, and art stores.

It was a scorcher that day. But it was North Carolina, in a water town, in the summer – what else could we have expected? The town, clean and well-taken care of, exudes history and ghost stories. We would love to go back, in better, more relaxed times, when we can spend a few nights and learn about its history, go on a walking tour of the Historic District, and even take a sunset cruise on the Pamlico. Lots of people talk about visiting Wilmington, NC a lot around here, but I found Washington to be just as interesting, if not more, to some degree: last time I visited Wilmington, I was shocked at how deserted and derelict and lifeless it looked. Washington was at the opposite end of that.

After Washington, we headed East to Goose Creek State Park. We saw deer in the torrid heat, in the middle of the day as we drove around looking for the most popular trail of this park: the Pamlico Boardwalk Trail. This is a quarter of a mile or so wooden boardwalk over a marshy terrain. It is the most savage, wild, intimidating terrain I have ever walked: you feel like at any minute a snake might jump out of the water or fall on your head from the trees. The warnings to watch for cottonmouths did not help. The cattails, small plants that looked like water clovers, lots of blooms, as well as water-loving reeds, willows and trees dressed in Spanish moss made up the rest of the vegetation, while minnows, frogs, millions, it seemed, of dragonflies, some of them the size of birds, and their friends, the butterflies, roamed about. We did apparently encounter a ribbon snake, but we didn’t know this till we got home and he showed up in a picture of a pink bloom. All in all, this experience was breathtaking and singular in its beauty and wilderness for us. It looked like we reached the end of the world after the planet was wiped out of its beauty and now, millions of years later, everything else was trying to come back to life, fresh, young, and vibrant.

Boat on the Pamlico - Washington, NC

Washington, NC abounds in buildings just like this one - where you can smell the ocean and the age ... 

The very well-maintained water walkway in Washington, NC

Vegetation, dragonflies, and a ribbon snake in Goose Creek State Park, NC

Vollis Simpson Whirligig Park, Wilson, NC

En route back from Washington, NC, we stopped at this North Carolina oddity, the Whirligig Park in the small town of Wilson, somewhat of an Eastern suburb of Raleigh. In fact, my husband seems to be intrigued by these devices, we have owned one so far for our yard, and he just bought his second one in Asheville, on this very vacation. I would recommend a visit to this park as a testimony to human ingenuity and artistic endeavor.

Day 5: Chinqua Penn Walking Trail with friends, Reidsville, NC

The very following day, we headed up North, to Reidsville, NC, where we met an old friend (old because I have known her for almost 20 years now) for a picnic and a hike of the Chinqua Penn Walking Trail. We all brought lunch and we again sat on our camping chairs in the shade, caught up a bit since we had not seen each other for about a year now and times have surely changed since. Not sure if we saw two or three people while we spent three hours or so there. I am grateful for days like these, where we can stop and smell the roses a bit and get caught up on life and escape our isolation, meet with close friends in the safety of nature.

Trails and wild life around Cinqua Penn Plantation - Reidsville, NC

The Old Mill of Guilford, Oak Ridge, NC

On the way back from Chinqua Penn, we stopped by The Old Mill of Guildford next door to my old stomping grounds of Summerfield, NC where I used to live many, many moons ago. Some parts of the existing working mill date as far back as 1767. Some, newer, are as recent as the 1950’s. The mill is one of the oldest continuous gristmills in the United States. I remember living in Greensboro and our phone book, back in the day when there were such things, always having this mill on the cover. One of the things I love and cherish living in NC is the history of it. Like a slice through layered soil, you can go back centuries and try to understand …

Day 6 and 7: Errands in Durham and Apex, NC and dinner with friends in Greensboro, NC

We closed our week in a more relaxed manner, by finishing up some more errands that we just never get around to (like finding Eastern European or Greek-style caviar spread) and having dinner with friends we have not seen since last year! Again, we picked up some delicious to-go food and ate it on their patio, distanced, but as together as these times allow us.

After putting 1230+ miles on our car, we called it a week and our longest staycation ever. We gathered home on Sunday night tired and full to the brim with newness. Our retinas have been cleansed and we can now hopefully see clearer what's ahead. Whatever life may throw at us, we hope that we will continue to be able to adapt and create new memories in an ever-renewing universe that keeps re-inventing itself, sometimes more painful, always anew and never boring. 

My husband said after this whirlwind of a week that we behaved like we grabbed an issue of Our State magazine and we made a point to see all the spots featured in all its articles. I could not agree more. Surely, I would have loved to sample more of the yummy food, and to actually stop to learn more about the history, but we can both at least say “we, too, have been there” now – at the very least it will make for easy planning next time we will be able to … stay a while.

Would any vacation be truly complete without a kitty in it?! This is Millie, the cat at The Old Mill of Guilford, greeting us on the porch. Click the picture to view the entire album of this whirlwind week. 

The Most Real Sister

“The greatest gift our parents gave us was each other.“ (somewhere on the web ...)

Last night, I dreamed that I was adopted. It was one of those dreams that felt so realistic. There was this woman who wanted money from my dad and she told me she was my real mother if he doesn’t pay. I confronted my parents (who paid her but she told me the horrid news anyway), and they could not lie. They didn’t confirm, but they didn’t deny it, either. So, I guess it was settled: I was adopted. 

Then, I came to you, sorela, and I said “Hey, now I have three sisters. My ‘real’ mother has two other daughters, so I have you and I have them.” And you said: “Yeah, but I am the real one.” And the dream unraveled ... 

And you were right. Even if this would ever be true (we know it’s not, of course), you will forever be my one, true, real sister. 

While writing this, I realize that although we’re so far apart in space, you are still so close to me: I am wearing two necklaces: one, a wood one with earth crystals that you gave to me to heal my energy and give me strength and focus, allegedly. The other one, a silver one, that grandpa bubu gave to me at the same time he gave you the same necklace. I was maybe 7 and you were 4. He always bought us matching stuff. Remember the watches he got us to put on our chain?! I am drinking coffee from the mug you gave me that says “Your love and your understanding are a gift in my life but there are times when you know that all I need is a hug.” You’re everywhere and always with me. Every day. Every breath. 

Rummaging through my memories this morning, I thought of all the times we were together through our lives: every new pore, every new hair, every new cell on our adult bodies grew on our kids’ bodies with us side-by-side ... We were together for our playtime, and every dinner, every holiday, birthday, funeral and christening ... All the major events and the little ones, like when we went to the mountains for the first time. Or maybe that was a major one? We were together for mushroom and berry picking and for bandaging your wounds when they got infected or needed stitches. We were there when we fell in love for the first time and when we fought like mad cats over stupid little things ...  

We were together for the starry nights and the sunrises, for the walks on the beach and the hikes in the pastures. We were together in London and in New York City ... We were together for our weddings and the kids’ christenings. 

We shared our joys and our insecurities over all of the first 20 years of your life ... 

Life came in the way, as it has done this year, too, and we were not together for other major events after it cast us in two different corners of the world. But in some ways I feel like our bond got stronger and our love deeper. Our get-togethers are more meaningful now, and so concentrated in chats, emotions, catching up, making new memories to last us till our next visit . And this year we’re learning painfully that we can’t even plan that much craved, and much needed “next visit”... 

I love how you love me for all my bumps. I know I drive you nuts with all my nagging, but as I always tell you: it all comes from a place of love and from an insane fear that something bad will happen to you if you don’t listen to me. And then ... I don’t know where I’ll be, for I’d have no bearings, no identity without you right there, besides me ... 

Yes, indeed, you are my real sister. As real as these hands that I use to type this with. As real as my heart. May you always and forever be healthy, safe, loved, and always full of life. A life, an optimism, a calm, and a peace that God put all in you and, with all the blessings he has given me, skimped on me, all things that I need to keep going ... 

Happiest of birthdays. Miss you this year extra more super special than any other time. You’ve got my heart. Forever. 

Somewhere in time, at our special place, in the mountains. Dirty, probably starved, definitely happy. This picture speaks volumes, but to notice just one thing: in a snake-infested mountain top, miles away from anywhere, way before cells reached Romania, you are barefoot and free. Because you are fearless, while me - forever boring (I know!) cautious ... 

De Ziua Tatei

Zilele de iulie in Iasi sunt in flacari. Inconjurat de asfaltul topit, te simti ca in gura unui cuptor inchis – arestat, fara scapare! Aerul nu se misca si amortirea lui iti ucide orice speranta ca focul in care iti este cuprins tot corpul va avea vreun sfarsit. Sudorile curg siroaie. Te topesti. Respiratia e tot mai grea, si singura mancare de care mai ai chef e doar cateva cuburi de gheata sa te racoresti. Seara, cand crezi ca dupa ce soarele se culca vei scapa un pic de tortura caldurii, apar tantarii – vampirii rapaci ai noptii. Si sudoarea nu se opreste si pe orice pui mana sau oriunde te intinzi se lipeste de tine si iti tine in continuare si mai cald.

Cand eram copii, petreceam lunile de vara la Pojorata, in inima Bucovinei. Tata a crescut acolo si mereu a privit meleagurile acelea ca pe un paradis pierdut al copilariei lui. Si-a dorit sa impartasim si noi tinutul acela de poveste, unde spinarile muntilor se apleaca umil asupra satelor adormite, unde brazii inca se mai ridica mandrii sub piscurile pietroase ale Raraului si Giumalaului, unde animale lenese isi plimba turmele prin pasuni verzi si pline de fragi si afine , si unde oamenii vorbesc poetic si ascund tragedii de neimaginat in spatele unor zambete melancolice si al unor ochi pierduti in visare.

Verile la munte erau opusul celor din Iasi: caldura toropea suportant doar in mijlocul zilei. Diminetile erau pline de roua si racoare. Serile erau reci si proaspete. Vantul fosnea printre brazi si linistea de mormant nu era tulburata decat de un tren ratacit sau de vreun satean care isi batea coasa. Tantari nu existau! O data cu venirea serii, stateam toti pe “gang” (cerdac) si luam ziua care se scurse la disecat – discutand orice mic detaliu despre oricine ne venise in cale, si planuind urmatoarea zi de munca sau de petrecere, daca era vreo sarbatoare.

Eu si sora mea petreceam toata vacanta de vara aici, si parintii veneau in “vizite” doar in cateva weekenduri. Tata, nascut in iulie, incerca sa isi petreaca ziua de nastere aici si cand cadea intr-un weekend aproape intotdeauna si-o petrecea la munte. Pentru ca de obicei veneau de la servici, mama si tata ajungeau la noi vineri seara, cateodata foarte tarziu. Noi stateam cu urechile ciulite sa auzim masina tarandu-se incet pe ulita cu pietris incepand inca de pe la 12 ziua. Dupa ce descarcau masina, stateam toti la masa, oricat ar fi fost de tarziu, si tata spunea mereu acelasi lucru: “Bai, am condus, da?! Am condus pe o caldura ca imi venea sa mor! Am si eu voie sa beau un pahar de cognac?” Si radea ghidus, ca si cum cineva ar fi zis vreodata “nu”?! Raspunsul era mereu acelasi din partea mamei: “Da bea, draga!” Si isi punea tacticos un pahar de cognac pe jumate plin si il dadea peste cap intr-o inghititura.

A doua zi, de obicei sambata, abia asteptam planurile pe care ni le facea el. Cateodata mergeam la Mestecanis, cateodata la Campulung, cateodata la vreo manastire, dar intotdeauna tata isi facea timp sa mergem cu totii la cules de bureti. Asta era pentru el nu numai relaxare dar o pasiune si un dar pe care si-l facea singur in fiecare an. Eu nu am fost niciodata atletica, nici mom, dar sora mea si tata erau in fruntea clanului de culegatori! Mereu inaintea tuturor, si tata gasind mereu cele mai multe ciuperci. Noi stiam foarte bine de la rudele la care locuiam care sunt bureti buni si care nu. Lectia asta o invatasem singure. Cateodata il mai invatam si pe tata. Colindam padurile ore intregi, dupa micul dejun pana la o amiaza, asa pe la 4, cand ne coboram incet, lenes, sper casa, fiecare cu o plasuta de ciuperci, si intotdeauna tata avea cea mai mare recolta!

Desi culegeam bureti (si fragi si afine si zmeura) toata vara in sederea noastra la Pojorata, culesul de bureti cu tata era ca o bijuterie de pret, un mister, un balsam pentru un suflet plin de dorinta pe care il asteptam un an intreg! Era minunat sa il vad pe tata transformat din omul “de oras” pe care il stiam in cele 364 de zile a anului, intr-un adevarat om de munte, care nu se temea de animale salbatice, care urca pe rape abrupte fara sa cada si fara sa se teama, care ne vorbea despre istoria acelor locuri, care descoperea transee si metal din foste gloante si bombe prin padure si care ne vorbea despre cum muntii ne vor apara de comunisti, pentru ca acestia stiu ca daca te ascunzi in munti e greu sa te gaseasca si sa iti controleze mintea. Pentru el (si pentru noi) muntii au fost mereu simbolul libertatii supreme, si excursiile acestea in inima lor erau marturia celebrarii acestei liberati. Ne vorbea si despre balmus si despre cum se face branza, cum se cresc vacile si oile, si despre cum izvoarele sunt cele mai bune si cele mai curate cand sunt pline de broaste, pentru ca inseamna ca au apa buna (ne-otravita) de baut.

Asteptam ziua asta de mers prin padure cu tata un an intreg, si cand venea, de obicei in jurul zilei lui, era un cadou la fel de mult pentru noi cat si pentru el. O sansa de a ne retrage din viata noastra de zi cu zi, departe de Iasul care se topea de caldura si se framanta muribund sub povara tantarilor si a mirosului de canal, o sansa de a ne regasi in prospetimea si racoarea padurilor de brazi, si de a ne cunoaste mai bine; o sansa de a lasa natura, inima muntilor sa ne protejeze si sa ne imbete de splendorile ei neprefacute. O reintoarcere la vatra strabuna, la o simplitate si frumusete pure.

Ajunsi acasa, el se apuca de facut vreun foc pentru gratarul de cina. El era bucatarul principal si ceilalti se agitau in jurul lui si ii dadeau la mana, ca niste ucenici loiali, orice cerea el: “Lemne, adu-mi lemne! Zi-i lui mama ca mai trebuie sare! Adu-mi si mie niste apa rece! Da, rrrece!” Noi trebuia sa curatam buretii. De fapt, el si mom ii curatau si noi ii spalam – cea mai grea sarcina din cate exista! Oricine a spalat vreodata bureti stie ca un burete nu e niciodata curat, in oricate ape l-ai spala!

Cateodata, cineva din familia la care stateam turna cate o galeata cu apa rrrece de izvor pe tata sa ii spuna “La multi ani” - un obicei localnic ciudat si tata se supara (apa rece de izvor pe un corp incalzit de la urcarea muntilor in iulie iti poate ori inima, spunea el) si eu ii luam apararea. Dupa ce se usca langa focul de la gratar si in aerul racoros al serii, masa era cam gata si ne adunam cu totii, vreo 12-15 oameni, in “familie” la marele ospat.

Sedeam la o masa de lemn, lunga, cu doua banci de o parta si de alta ca si scaune care era intinsa afara, in fata casei, sub cerul liber. Stateam unii langa altii ca si cum am fi fost toti rude de sange, desi numai noi patru eram o familie – ceilalti erau oameni buni, cunostinte, care ne gazduiau de ani de zile, si care, pana la un final, au devenit mai apropiati ca rudele. Era o masa de taina, de o apropiere si de o prietenie adanca. Atunci nu stiam ca rar ne va oferi viata o legatura cu altii care putea fi mai puternica si mai sincera ca aceea.

Mancarea era intotdeauna delicioasa: buretii culesi de noi erau piesa centrala a ospatului, dar aveam de toate: carne cat cuprinde (nu exista masa cu tata fara vreo 5 feluri de carne), branzeturi, fragi cu smantana, mamaliga proaspata si taiata in cuburi cu ata, invaluind intreaga masa cu aburi apetisanti. Totul era simplu (nici un somon fume, sau caviar, sau fructe de mare), dar facut cu dragoste si cu gust. Of – amintiri … Oriunde am fi in lume, acestea inca raman. 

Astazi, de ziua tatei, mi-as dori, pentru el si pentru noi, sa mai avem parte de multe veri racoroase, sub umbra muntilor, de multe mese pline cu bureti si mujdei de usturoi si mamaliga, si de multe pahare de cognac (el) si de bere de casa (eu). Impreuna.

La multi ani, tata! Cu bine, sanatate si, poate, cu regasirea paradisului tau pierdut. Te iubesc.

Cca 1989 - tata, intotdeauna sprijinindu-se de mom, fericit la Pojorata, unde muntele coboara la tine ... 

15 Years

15 years today I started blogging here (or anywhere else for that matter). This makes this entry number 545. 

I started blogging (http://wander-world.blogspot.com/2005/07/why.html) from a need to communicate, but also from a love of writing and not least of traveling. 15 years ago, I was avid of finding out what life was about and share my findings with you all.

I never amounted to many followers, in the traditional sense of the word, but I know many of you read this blog, because in the meantime following to a blog has become so much more complicated: 15 years ago, people were blog followers on Blogspot, or at the most, they’d subscribe with an email address. But today, I advertise my blogs on Facebook and on twitter, sometimes even on LinkedIn, and there are so many more people following them through there … My second blog (http://livingwithfh.blogspot.com/) is linked to an external website altogether (https://thefhfoundation.org) and another audience is created there. Social life and newsfeeds have become much more fragmented and complex. Following is not that important, really, to me, because I am thrilled and humbled when my words touch even one person, regardless of how they found me.

It’s been quite a journey! I sat on the title and the url of this blog for a while till it dawned on me: it had to have something related to “travel” in its name. I think one of the top reasons, if not the top reason for immigrating here, was so that I can, one day, have an American passport that will open the door to most any country I wanted to visit and which would allow me to skip the whole “requesting a visa” process. Well, in 15 years, that dream did come true – the one about the American passport. With the new world of the Coronavirus pandemic, the borders of most of the countries in the world are closed to Americans now. So, there, I guess life has shown me.  

But I did travel some – I crossed America twice, I lived in the West and came back to the South-East of The States, I traveled many countries on three continents, and I have learned a lot – about travel, about people, about myself. I try to write as often as I feel like it, but nowadays I have several outlets for writing, some of them more private than others. Life, again, has gotten more complicated.

As long as I live, I know I’ll write, and to some extent, as far as the world around me will allow me to go, I will travel. Just like 15 years ago: whether I travel across the country or sit in my living room and travel in my imagination across the world, or take a day trip across town – my mind will continue to stay open and inquisitive and my feelings and senses will hurry to the blank pages to tell the story and share it with the world.

After 15 years of … everything … I still know one thing for sure: that life is indeed … a trip. Thank you for coming along on my journey. Here’s to new roads and to the next 15!

All Countries Will Break Your Heart. Eventually.

July 4^th, 2020

I can make this statement because at least two of them broke mine. One that I chose myself. And one where I was born, that chose me. Just like people, countries have their faults. At 45, I have stopped looking for perfection. Right about now, I am happy with the little good I find in every day. For it is not little, most of the time.

I came to America with a head full of dreams, hoping and wishing more than anything I ever wished for in my life that I have reached a promised land where not much can go wrong if you truly want it to go right. 22 years later, I can say, just like I said about my first country 22 years ago: America has broken my heart.  For the first time in … I am not sure how long, or ever … I feel like America should be scolded and not celebrated today. She has a lot of learning still to do. The reasons are obvious to all the heart-minded and humanity-loving people, so I won’t belabor the point. This is meant to be a short post.

But despite all the anger I feel, despite all the grief I have grieved for the past year, despite all the pain I see unravelling every day, despite all the wrongs, I must love America. I love it like you must love a sister that stole your boyfriend. Or a father that lived only to make you happy and ensure you have everything, a father that taught you everything from tying your shoe to what kind of man you should allow to love you but then turns around and votes for Trump. I love it like you’d love a mother who’s dying of lung cancer and is still smoking like a freight-train, forcing you to watch the decay. I love it like you love a son who’s committed crimes but rescues kittens. 

Maybe it is wrong. This is a country I am talking about, not a person. Not my flesh-and-blood. But it is my home. It is the home I chose. I am not loving it from a sense of obligation. More from a sense of belonging. If any of this grief is her fault, it is as much as it is mine for choosing her. And where would I be without a home? Just like without a family, I would not know where I belong and who I am without one. I might not be high up and singing her praises today, but I have big hopes that one day it will live again up to the name she made around the globe for hundreds of years.

Whatever America is to you and however you choose to celebrate it today, or not, I hope you at least stop and ponder whether it is the perfect country you were taught it is, or if it can get better. And if you think it can, I hope we can all find it within our hearts to get her there.

And, also … make the most of today, however you spend it. God knows life is short. And that’s not at all   a debatable fact.

July 4, 1998 - my very first Independence Day celebration in Myrtle Beach, SC. You can't quite tell here, but I was crying. I was so moved that I was celebrating Independence Day in what I thought to be the greatest country in the world. I hope all of us can see that belief a reality in our lifetimes. 

The Trail That Has Everything: Chinqua-Penn Walking Trail

We have found so many trails around us lately - all I can do is be grateful we live in such a beautiful state and country. For nature lovers like us, there is really no boredom when it comes to where to go next - so many choices, and now, we finally have the time. 

We usually get a different landscape with every trail we try: it could be a paved, city trail, or a dirt road, or it could be a true nature trail, not maintained much, paved with nothing but underbrush, pine needles and dead leaves. We walk sometimes by lakes, sometimes streams, sometimes farms, sometimes pastures, sometimes just trees and bushes. 

But we finally found a trail that has it all: the Chinqua-Penn Walking Trail in Residsville, NC. About an hour North from our house, the trail has been maintained by NC State University in more recent times. The trail sits on the old grounds of the Chinqua Penn Plantation, so you'd find old fixture buildings from those days, alongside gorgeous, enormous, ages-old trees, a well-maintained farm, a couple of ponds, and a beautiful, tranquil stream running right through it, complete with a couple of waterfalls. Amongst those, the "Little Niagara" fall (with emphasis on "little"), flowing over a quarried rock wall. 

The trail is about 1.7 mile long, nestled in Rockingham County, in the middle of a sleepy community. If it were to describe it in one word, it would be quiet. Or better yet, peaceful. 

The day when we explored it, there were hardly any visitors on the trail, only two other cars in the parking lot besides ours. It feels like the world has not found it yet, which suits us just fine. 

This is the first trail we have found since we moved back to NC that promptly had us both say "let's go back to it tomorrow!". 

Here are some pictures that don't do it justice, but that might entice you to visit, if you live around these parts. 

The entrance to the trail reminds you why you're here. The stained glass "quilt" pretty much summarizes what you're about to see (you can click any of the pictures to see a larger version): 

The trail is a mix of dirt road/ gravel and wooden boardwalks, and it's virtually all flat. The boards come in handy over the marshy areas: 

Some of the old fixture buildings on the property were like hidden gems, just popping around all over the place: 

The stew site (a place where they gathered for the fall Brunswick stew parties): 

A locally harvested rock bridge that dammed a koi pond:

They used the same kind of rock for the pump house which sits on the stream:

A supporter of the Trail project paid to have this "observation" platform and stair walkway in front of the bridge. It dipped bellow the bridge, and it was framed by bamboo and a kudzu wilderness. It was like walking into The Emerald City: 

This shelter was built by a group of Boy Scouts, so, it is newer than the old Plantation, but it fit in with the rest of the place nicely. We were thinking we might need to use it, because a massive thunderstorm was threatening to approach as we were walking around: 

Part of the trail meandered alongside age-old, massive trees: oaks, and elms, and maples: 

A face in one of the trees besides the trail:

We saw a handful of creatures on our walk. The place is like a private reserve for bluebirds. They are everywhere. They fly, they perch, they chase each other, they are curious and gorgeous spots of blue peppered all over the meadows: 

There was surprisingly a penury of butterflies, but then again, the wildflowers are not in full bloom yet. We did see a couple, and a couple of dragon flies and other winged friends, too: 

A sparrow was friendly and chatty:

This is one of the ponds, the more "wild" one, tucked between trees and a meadow:

The koi pond looked mostly man-made, as it was barred by the dammed bridge. It actually did have koi in it:

... and turtles:

The stream was snaking around the heart of the forest and among bamboo groves, making these pretty waterfalls now and then. The moss carpet was soft and fresh, embracing exposed roots like soft, silky gloves. It almost didn't look real:

The blackberries were almost ready:

Some squirrels were hopping about, eating acorn: 

These arrows should really read "Farm to the right", "Wild nature and forest to the left". The estate is beautifully shared by a wild nature preserve (really) and a farm. They are both equally nicely maintained and gorgeous. You can kind of see the approaching thunderstorm: 

Farmland as far as the eye can see. And much quiet, and lazy: 

This picnic spot towers over the koi pond and the bridge. The picnic table and chairs are made from the same beautiful rock as all the other fixtures. 

Click the picture to see the whole album, and if you can, make this your next outing. Hope you agree with me that you would have found a new (to you) NC gem: