On the bleached sands of Mikonos we first heard about The Hashish Trail. Over the weeks we spent there we got to know some seasoned travelers of the trail named Bobby and Miguel, brothers, originally stock brokers from New York. As we gathered with some 150 “freaks” each evening on the beach for the hippie brand of evensong, we pieced together this exclusive route to India, shared only by word of mouth from traveler to traveler. Bobby and Miguel acted as our travel agents, recommending each city and hotel in which we should stay to derive maximum enlightenment on the journey.
Bobby and Miguel had been travelling The Hashish Trail for a couple of years, buying beads, jewels, wonderful clothing from India and Nepal, and other marketables, then travelling overland to Greece, selling their wares, then journeying back to India for more enlightenment! As they told us stories of holy men, yogic enlightenment, Government hashish stores, and Christmas in Goa with hundreds of other travelers from around the world, our hearts were re-awakened to our goal - go to India and find God. The delight in the eyes of these young men as they shared with us was irresistible and contagious. It was obvious that there were volumes they simply could not describe, though they tried. We had to go there! Sorting and weeding out our belongings, we began to prepare for the long trail ahead of us, overland, of course.
Up until now we had had an impressive wardrobe, including evening wear, shoes and purses for every occasion, jewels – the works! We now needed a new wardrobe, suitable for travelling through some very remote and primitive territory. We travelled to Athens, where we hooked up with Gidonia who had opted to remain in Athens rather than go to Mykonos. We packed up those luscious clothes and shipped them back to Eva, our writer girlfriend with whom we had spent some weeks in Spain. Next we bought four U.S. military issue backpacks, in which we would carry everything we needed for the next year! We also went to a spectacular wine festival in Delphi, where we sampled wine from huge vats and danced and sang with the Greeks. I was impressed by the fun-loving attitude of the parents with their children. Everyone played and everyone laughed. I saw no tears there. Of course there was that wonderful Greek food available at booths set up around the park and so no one got drunk, or if they did they handled it with aplomb. The inclusiveness of children everywhere we went in Greece was in such contrast to the culture in North America, where adults get babysitters when they go out to drink. It was the norm for children to be playing on the floor in pubs while their parents had a drink with friends.
Before setting out on The Hashish Trail we lingered on Mykonos, where we acquired many friends with whom we would meet up from time to time as we journeyed to the East. When we had first arrived on Mykonos, we shunned the hotels in town and went looking for a place to pitch our tents on the beach. Upon cresting a hill between two of the beaches, we gazed on a colony of dwellings such as we had never before even imagined. There were cave homes, tucked into the sun-bleached cliffs overlooking the blue Mediterranean. There were driftwood dwellings, creatively assembled to provide some privacy for the occupants. And everyone was nude! It was just too much of a leap for us that first night, and we decided to move on to the next beach. But throughout the evening we were intrigued by all the sounds of merriment wafting over to us from the nude beach. There were guitars and flutes, drums and tambourines, saxophones and clarinets, shakers and whistles – and the players were making some wonderful music, showcasing a number of remarkable singers. And so the next day we just had to check it out. I moved into a rock house with a rock patio facing the blue expanse of the Mediterranean. Many people slept on the beach in tents or out under the stars. The people were all hippies and immediately made us welcome, helped us find a place to live and made us aware of how this casual community worked.
The weather was predictably perfect – each day blistering hot, chasing us to the ocean for relief. Each night was balmy under clear skies studded with stars you thought you could touch! The contrast between the land and the water was astonishing – dry-as-bone white sand and bleached rocks contrasted with lush, cool, stunningly colorful undersea gardens graced with tropical fish of every hue and description. Soon we had million dollar tans which turned to bronze in the setting sun, and no tan lines! (I was surprised how little difference nudity makes once you get over the initial shyness). This was paradise. And so we stayed for some weeks.
Occasionally we would put on our finest silks and foray into town for some fabulous seafood and to drink Ouzo with the fishermen. These Greeks were so much fun. They taught us the right way to eat shrimp, shared sumptuous feasts with us and whirled us around the seaside restaurant to their lively Greek tunes. We slammed our glasses down to the shouts of “Yachara!” At least that’s what it sounded like – I assumed it meant “cheers” or “down the hatch” or whatever! They laughed a lot, and we were still laughing as we staggered first down the beach and then over the rock cliffs (about two miles) to our hippie haven. The evenings we spent with these funny, kind fishermen are among my fondest memories.
Finally we dragged ourselves away from Mykonos, which is forever beloved in my heart. We resumed our quest for God – for that elusive aspect of God which somehow links you inextricably to the Grand Order Divine, that something which melts the heart and overwhelms the spirit with adoration and goodness. We set out to follow The Hashish Trail.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Gardening
Today I found out that my allotted garden plot is 20' long and 4.5' wide - much larger than I had thought. So now I'm in the gardening spirit. I heard from several local people that here in the Great Northwestern Ontario we should not plant our gardens until the first new moon in June, which I believe is happening right now. So I went to the nursery today and got some lovely bedding plants. My friend and neighbor Bill turned about half the garden for me - not bad for a guy who uses a walker to walk! I appreciated the help which was given over my protests! Bill has been a Godsend since I moved here and has become a true friend of mine.
I'm planting peas, carrots, lettuce, green onions, radishes, a few beets, and flowers. I have to get fencing for it so the deer don't eat it - that's tomorrow's project! Fun - I love gardening.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Some of my favorites
These pictures go all the way back to Christmas in Tisdale. As you can see, finally spring began in May, but we're still waiting for truly warm weather - maybe tomorrow! There are a couple of pictures of the view of the forest (and the deer) from my window. Since these pictures spring is advancing, flowers are beginning to bloom and I soon must plant my garden! I have to put up a high fence to keep the deer from devouring the fruits of my labors...Life is good!
Monday, June 1, 2009
The Hashish Trail - Chapter 8 - A Bottle of Wine and Thou
Italy brings vivid memories of ancient monuments, intricate fountains, roads that wind along above the beautiful blue Mediterranean, “bottom pinchers” and galato. We toured Milan, Venice, Florence, and were awed once more by the beauty and history of this country. When we decided it was time to head for Rome we bought a huge bottle of wine and hit the road. Late in the afternoon we decided it was time to open the bottle, and by the time we rolled into our campground at around 10:00 p.m., we were all rather more than tipsy. Now came the task of setting up our tents and making supper. We built a fire and while Ladonia, who was chief cook that night, prepared supper, the rest of us set up our tents. We were tipsy and apparently were being loud as nearby campers kept shushing us. Suddenly Ladonia somehow lost her balance and sat right in the pot of stew. She jumped up, peeled her jeans off, and miraculously had only a small burn! We simply couldn’t stop laughing at the sight she made sitting in our supper! We polished off the wine and finally crawled into bed. While there had been tents all around us the night before, in the morning every tent had moved far away from us and we were virtually alone in our little corner of the campground. How to make friends and influence people!
We spent the most time in Rome and chose a campground right on the ocean. It was called Ostia de Lido. Many hippie travelers were in Rome to see the sights and enjoy some time off the road. Ladonia left us in Rome and flew back to Vancouver as she had some business to take care of. She later met us in Dubrovnik and thankfully brought extra funds for our journey. One day Gidonia and I were walking back from the showers to our tent when we heard loud coughing and guffaws of laughter coming from a pup tent out of which billowed clouds of smoke. We knew the people in that tent just had to be fun! We did manage to “bump into” them the next day and became friends with Danny and Jerry, who were U.S. military men on leave from their base in Munich. Little did we know that one day Ladonia would marry Danny and they would spend the rest of their lives together. Danny and Jerry came to our campsite on a regular basis after that and Gidonia and Jerry fell in love. Many happy hours and days were spend in the company of these two pot smoking soldiers! Our friends whom we had met in the campground in Monaco also showed up in our campground in Rome “for more of our cooking.” They were so much fun, but we never saw them again during our travels.
I will never forget St. Peter’s Basilica or the Sistine Chapel where Michelangelo painted the entire dome. It is fantastic! In St. Peter’s there is a statue of the Apostle Peter, whose robe, although carved in marble, appears to be slightly transparent revealing the muscle of his thigh, and seems to suggest the movement of his leg as it steps forward. Really, it is the most amazing sculpture I have ever seen. But the treasury, which is in a separate room inside the cathedral, made me angry, as there was enough wealth just in a display box of huge (baseball-size) jewels to feed all the poor people who faithfully gave their money to this lavishly wealthy organization! It seems the poor always carry a very heavy burden along with their poverty, and that is guilt played upon by (some) churches and assuaged by paying their tithes and offerings. Not to mention that in those days Catholics weren’t allowed to use birth control so most people had more children than they could afford. The contrast between the riches of St. Peter’s Basilica and the poor of Italy was blatant and it made me sad that so-called Christianity would stoop to this level.
Driving in Rome was memorable to say the least! While we were used to travelling in lanes and being careful to switch lanes safely, in Rome it seemed that everyone just looked straight ahead and made a dash for it, never looking behind or to right or left. It was terrifying, but it’s miraculous how chaos can sort itself out when it’s not considered out of the ordinary! The Romans took it all in stride, and if we got lost, some handsome youth would volunteer to show us across the city for a ride in the car with us. Rome is huge and bustling, with statues and fountains everywhere, and so much history that one would need years to truly grasp it all. We did enjoy Rome and the friendly people there. Of course we saw the Roman Forum, the Coliseum, some of the San Sebastian Catacombs (there are 800 miles of catacombs altogether), the tombs of Peter and Paul, and all of the other famous sights to see in Rome. We stayed in our campground at the beach for about three weeks and then decided to head toward Greece.
Before leaving Italy we decided to look up some relatives of friends Vosharnia had met in Montreal. These people lived in a mountain village named Montefiorino. We just happened to arrive there on the weekend when they were celebrating Easter. I’m sure it’s common practice in Catholic areas, but the whole town turned out to join in a procession, singing as a large wooden cross was carried from the church and through the various Stations of the Cross which were established throughout the village. It was all in Italian and Latin and we understood not a word, but were moved by the devotion and gratitude these people demonstrated. Or perhaps it was meaningless ritual, but in any case it was fascinating. The Christ was white, as opposed to the black Christ and Virgin Mary we had been surprised and pleased to see in Spain.
The folks who were our hosts later prepared a most lovely meal; we drank wine and conversed, we in our limited Italian and they in their limited English. It was so good to be in an authentic Italian home, and to experience this homespun culture first-hand.
Our route would take us through a small portion of Austria going from Italy to Yugoslavia, and at this border crossing I had my first experience of true suppression. We were interrogated at length about why we were travelling through Austria, but we had visas for Yugoslavia, and were finally permitted to go on. I felt the heartsick feeling of not being valued as a human being, and ached for all the people who lived their lives under constant threat and were not valued. We hurried through that small part of Austria and entered Yugoslavia unchallenged.
We drove through Yugoslavia, now Croatia, Bosnia & Serbia which was then a Communist country under the leadership of Josef Bros Tito. Yugoslavia was unique among Communist countries in its relatively open and free society and its international role as a leader of nonaligned nations during the Cold War.[3] En-route to Dubrovnik, where we planned to spend a few days, we drove over a rather high and isolated pass, and began to notice that there was something wrong with our car. With much prayer and positive thinking we managed to get the car to a village, but there was nothing open as it was not a business day. We did manage to speak with a young man who happened to be a mechanic, and offered to fix our car in exchange for a ride to the next town, I believe it was Sofia. His family then invited us into their home where they offered us goat cheese. We tasted it to be polite but were not too impressed. They were cordial and served us tea. Soon the young man came in and said we were ready to go. He had his travel gear with him and we happily drove him to Sofia.
We camped in Dubrovnik for a couple of days. The original walled city is rich in history with a somewhat medieval ambience. Dubrovnik is known as the Pearl of the Adriatic and sits on the Adriatic Seacoast in the extreme south of Croatia. We explored the old city at length. It was easy to imagine knights in shining armour mounted on magnificent steeds clattering over those cobbled streets in the long distant past.
We didn’t meet anyone in Dubrovnik except for the owners of the campground where we were staying, who invited us to go to their village on a day trip. I don’t recall this trip, but Vosharnia may. There were no hippies in Dubrovnik as far as I recall, and we didn’t smoke any marijuana while there. Although Yugoslavia was one of the more liberal Communist countries, it was still fairly uptight and rigidly controlled. I hated to see the effects of suppression – distrust and fear – in these lovely people.
We had for some time been looking forward with great anticipation to Greece. So many travellers we had met along the way had assured us we must visit not only Greece but some of the Greek islands as well. And so we once more packed up “Our Everything,” consulted our maps and hit the road.
[1] http://www.idealspain.com/pages/places/AlmeriaProvince.htm.
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monte_Carlo_Casino[2]
[3] Encarta Encyclopedia
We spent the most time in Rome and chose a campground right on the ocean. It was called Ostia de Lido. Many hippie travelers were in Rome to see the sights and enjoy some time off the road. Ladonia left us in Rome and flew back to Vancouver as she had some business to take care of. She later met us in Dubrovnik and thankfully brought extra funds for our journey. One day Gidonia and I were walking back from the showers to our tent when we heard loud coughing and guffaws of laughter coming from a pup tent out of which billowed clouds of smoke. We knew the people in that tent just had to be fun! We did manage to “bump into” them the next day and became friends with Danny and Jerry, who were U.S. military men on leave from their base in Munich. Little did we know that one day Ladonia would marry Danny and they would spend the rest of their lives together. Danny and Jerry came to our campsite on a regular basis after that and Gidonia and Jerry fell in love. Many happy hours and days were spend in the company of these two pot smoking soldiers! Our friends whom we had met in the campground in Monaco also showed up in our campground in Rome “for more of our cooking.” They were so much fun, but we never saw them again during our travels.
I will never forget St. Peter’s Basilica or the Sistine Chapel where Michelangelo painted the entire dome. It is fantastic! In St. Peter’s there is a statue of the Apostle Peter, whose robe, although carved in marble, appears to be slightly transparent revealing the muscle of his thigh, and seems to suggest the movement of his leg as it steps forward. Really, it is the most amazing sculpture I have ever seen. But the treasury, which is in a separate room inside the cathedral, made me angry, as there was enough wealth just in a display box of huge (baseball-size) jewels to feed all the poor people who faithfully gave their money to this lavishly wealthy organization! It seems the poor always carry a very heavy burden along with their poverty, and that is guilt played upon by (some) churches and assuaged by paying their tithes and offerings. Not to mention that in those days Catholics weren’t allowed to use birth control so most people had more children than they could afford. The contrast between the riches of St. Peter’s Basilica and the poor of Italy was blatant and it made me sad that so-called Christianity would stoop to this level.
Driving in Rome was memorable to say the least! While we were used to travelling in lanes and being careful to switch lanes safely, in Rome it seemed that everyone just looked straight ahead and made a dash for it, never looking behind or to right or left. It was terrifying, but it’s miraculous how chaos can sort itself out when it’s not considered out of the ordinary! The Romans took it all in stride, and if we got lost, some handsome youth would volunteer to show us across the city for a ride in the car with us. Rome is huge and bustling, with statues and fountains everywhere, and so much history that one would need years to truly grasp it all. We did enjoy Rome and the friendly people there. Of course we saw the Roman Forum, the Coliseum, some of the San Sebastian Catacombs (there are 800 miles of catacombs altogether), the tombs of Peter and Paul, and all of the other famous sights to see in Rome. We stayed in our campground at the beach for about three weeks and then decided to head toward Greece.
Before leaving Italy we decided to look up some relatives of friends Vosharnia had met in Montreal. These people lived in a mountain village named Montefiorino. We just happened to arrive there on the weekend when they were celebrating Easter. I’m sure it’s common practice in Catholic areas, but the whole town turned out to join in a procession, singing as a large wooden cross was carried from the church and through the various Stations of the Cross which were established throughout the village. It was all in Italian and Latin and we understood not a word, but were moved by the devotion and gratitude these people demonstrated. Or perhaps it was meaningless ritual, but in any case it was fascinating. The Christ was white, as opposed to the black Christ and Virgin Mary we had been surprised and pleased to see in Spain.
The folks who were our hosts later prepared a most lovely meal; we drank wine and conversed, we in our limited Italian and they in their limited English. It was so good to be in an authentic Italian home, and to experience this homespun culture first-hand.
Our route would take us through a small portion of Austria going from Italy to Yugoslavia, and at this border crossing I had my first experience of true suppression. We were interrogated at length about why we were travelling through Austria, but we had visas for Yugoslavia, and were finally permitted to go on. I felt the heartsick feeling of not being valued as a human being, and ached for all the people who lived their lives under constant threat and were not valued. We hurried through that small part of Austria and entered Yugoslavia unchallenged.
We drove through Yugoslavia, now Croatia, Bosnia & Serbia which was then a Communist country under the leadership of Josef Bros Tito. Yugoslavia was unique among Communist countries in its relatively open and free society and its international role as a leader of nonaligned nations during the Cold War.[3] En-route to Dubrovnik, where we planned to spend a few days, we drove over a rather high and isolated pass, and began to notice that there was something wrong with our car. With much prayer and positive thinking we managed to get the car to a village, but there was nothing open as it was not a business day. We did manage to speak with a young man who happened to be a mechanic, and offered to fix our car in exchange for a ride to the next town, I believe it was Sofia. His family then invited us into their home where they offered us goat cheese. We tasted it to be polite but were not too impressed. They were cordial and served us tea. Soon the young man came in and said we were ready to go. He had his travel gear with him and we happily drove him to Sofia.
We camped in Dubrovnik for a couple of days. The original walled city is rich in history with a somewhat medieval ambience. Dubrovnik is known as the Pearl of the Adriatic and sits on the Adriatic Seacoast in the extreme south of Croatia. We explored the old city at length. It was easy to imagine knights in shining armour mounted on magnificent steeds clattering over those cobbled streets in the long distant past.
We didn’t meet anyone in Dubrovnik except for the owners of the campground where we were staying, who invited us to go to their village on a day trip. I don’t recall this trip, but Vosharnia may. There were no hippies in Dubrovnik as far as I recall, and we didn’t smoke any marijuana while there. Although Yugoslavia was one of the more liberal Communist countries, it was still fairly uptight and rigidly controlled. I hated to see the effects of suppression – distrust and fear – in these lovely people.
We had for some time been looking forward with great anticipation to Greece. So many travellers we had met along the way had assured us we must visit not only Greece but some of the Greek islands as well. And so we once more packed up “Our Everything,” consulted our maps and hit the road.
[1] http://www.idealspain.com/pages/places/AlmeriaProvince.htm.
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monte_Carlo_Casino[2]
[3] Encarta Encyclopedia
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Uninspired
There will eventually be a new chapter of The Hashish Trail - as soon as I get inspired! Somehow it's just not happening, but I expect inspiration will return at some point......I've been adapting to a new home, city, province - I guess I need to regroup. It's all good though - I like it here and even have some new friends (sadly I miss my old friends), but generally life is good.
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Hashish Trail - Chapter 7 - Europe Overland
Before loading up our Peugeot and heading East along the Mediterranean, we shopped for tents and other camping supplies we would need for camping through Europe. Our needs were few: a primus stove, 2 pup tents, cooking utensils and pots, 4 sets of camping dishes and eating utensils. We were still of the mindset that fancy clothes were a necessity, and so cumbersome suitcases took up a lot of our trunk space. Really, looking back I cannot imagine how we managed to get it all into our little Peugeot. We painted a sign on the side of the car that said “Our Everything” because that good old girl carried us faithfully all across Europe and was something we could lock!
We decided to follow the sun all the way to India; we would experience perpetual summer. Rarely did we see a cloud in the sky, so when we did run into a little rain it was a welcome change. We travelled slowly and didn’t hesitate to spend extra time in the places we loved the most. Travelling along the Southern coast of Spain, we camped in a lovely town named Almeria (now a city).We decided to dress up and treat ourselves to dinner in an upscale and historic hotel. I believe it was the Almeria. This hotel has since been completely refurbished, but then it truly gave the impression of walking into the past. Ours was the only occupied table in the spacious and elegant dining room. I will never forget the royal treatment we received there. No less than six waiters hovered just out of earshot and rushed to fulfill the slightest whispered desire. At one point I quietly commented that I thought something would go well with the meal and voilà, instantly it was brought to me. I was embarrassed and shocked that they could even hear me! A lifted finger would bring waiters from every direction, and the wine glasses were never empty. All this for four middle class girls from Canada! Although the food was wonderful, I wasn’t used to being treated so well, and was rather preoccupied with that aspect of the meal. I guess they thought we were rich turistas and would leave large tips, which we did. My lasting impression of this dining room was old world charm. Spain was quite poor then and enduring Franco’s Communist regime; our U.S. dollars were much coveted.
As we drove across Europe we were reading a little book called The Impersonal Life by Joseph S. Benner. This book has been called a manual of spiritual teaching and discipline. It is the book that Elvis "had been looking for all his life." He said that it spoke to him in a clear and understanding voice. In this little book Elvis found food for his soul, and devoured it, as did we. We began to practice objectivity rather than subjectivity, and to begin to discover metaphysics, the branch of philosophy concerned wih the study of the nature of being and beings, existence, time and space, and causality. For me personally, it was a new way of looking at the same truths I was taught as a child, but the difference was that it helped me to identify that part of me that was in the driver's seat with God. You can look inside the pages of this little book at: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ISBN=0875163017/peterrussellA/#Basically, our values were slowly changing from material to spiritual.
We did the usual tourist stops at ancient cathedrals, monuments, and so on in Western Europe and as we progressed eastward, I was more and more in awe of the absolute history evident not only in the architecture, but also in the very lifestyle of the people. They seemed to have a calm sense of having been there a very long time, were more leisurely even in work, and seemed somehow more secure and grounded than people in newer places like Canada. We soon realized that it was really the people and their cultures in which we were interested. We were also eager to meet more hippies and to learn more about the hippie culture. Most evenings were spent making music, eating and visiting around a campfire in our campground, where we met other travelers going to or coming back from the East. From their stories we developed a wish list of places to visit – Greece, Turkey, Afghanistan, Nepal, India and Bali were highlighted as relatively safe and friendly, must see places.
Rural France was and is a lush and gorgeous country, with vineyards and olive groves everywhere, and warm and friendly people just wanting to have a glass of wine with us, or spend an evening dancing in a local disco. But when we arrived in Paris, viewed the Eifel Tower, The Louvre and all the other wonders of Paris, my most memorable impression of that great city was that it was a very cold place indeed. There was very little meeting of the minds, or even ordinary friendliness from the people in Paris, who seemed to regard themselves more highly than they deserved. The best of Paris for me was the food, and to this day French cuisine is one of my favorites.
One of the highlights of our trip through France was the Grand Prix at Monte Carlo on the Mediterranean Sea, adjacent to the city of Monaco on the French Riviera. Our campground was on a steep hillside which had been tiered to accommodate tents and campers. On our first night in this campground we met several young men who were also travelling east. We never would have known about the Grand Prix if these boys hadn't brought it up! So since we were there, we decided to go along for the fun of it. Two of the boys were brothers from Newport News, Virginia. They were sort of hillbillies with a strong southern drawl, and their sense of humour kept us laughing around our campfire well into the night. Another was a sweet blond boy from California. When the first few raindrops fell we all took cover in the sweet blond boy’s van where we smoked some joints and shared our histories and travel plans. Lucky for me, when everyone left to return to tents and campers, he suggested that I spend the night right where I was in order to stay dry, and I did. During the night the other girls were awakened to the unpleasant thrill of a river of icy water and gritty sand coursing through their sleeping bags and collapsing their tents. This torrent was cascading down the levels above us bringing with it sand, stones, pine needles, and various other debris. Needless to say the boys welcomed the girls into their camper for the duration of the night and the next day was spent drying out sleeping bags, removing buckets of sand from our tents, and trying to get our tents dry enough to sleep in that night. I must say that we weren’t all that perturbed about this disaster; it quit raining and the sun was hot and we had new friends! Most of our clothes were safely stowed in our Peugeot so we had something to wear to the Grand Prix the next day.
I remember our excitement as we arrived early in order to get seats on the bleachers set up along the course. We drank coffee, ate some muffins, and talked to people from all over the world who were there for the big race. My lasting impression of the Grand Prix is screaming cars tearing by, the smell of gasoline and exhaust, and a sea of excited people who knew this would very likely be a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. I was in awe that we were actually there!
We did put on our “finest silks” and checked out the famous and elegant Le Grand Casino[2] where the rich and famous from around the world part with a little of their worldly treasure or go home wealthier than ever. The point is that they are seen there – it’s a place that implies that you must be rich and famous if you’re gambling in Monte Carlo. What amazed me most was that when one is behaving in a real way, not contrived, with confidence, people feel no threat and respond in kind. We had a great time there and even did a little gambling!
It was time to move on, so we packed up and headed for Italy. We would meet up with the sweet blond boy from California and the brothers from Newport News, Virginia several more times during the trip to India.
[1] http://www.idealspain.com/pages/places/AlmeriaProvince.htm.
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monte_Carlo_Casino[2]
We decided to follow the sun all the way to India; we would experience perpetual summer. Rarely did we see a cloud in the sky, so when we did run into a little rain it was a welcome change. We travelled slowly and didn’t hesitate to spend extra time in the places we loved the most. Travelling along the Southern coast of Spain, we camped in a lovely town named Almeria (now a city).We decided to dress up and treat ourselves to dinner in an upscale and historic hotel. I believe it was the Almeria. This hotel has since been completely refurbished, but then it truly gave the impression of walking into the past. Ours was the only occupied table in the spacious and elegant dining room. I will never forget the royal treatment we received there. No less than six waiters hovered just out of earshot and rushed to fulfill the slightest whispered desire. At one point I quietly commented that I thought something would go well with the meal and voilà, instantly it was brought to me. I was embarrassed and shocked that they could even hear me! A lifted finger would bring waiters from every direction, and the wine glasses were never empty. All this for four middle class girls from Canada! Although the food was wonderful, I wasn’t used to being treated so well, and was rather preoccupied with that aspect of the meal. I guess they thought we were rich turistas and would leave large tips, which we did. My lasting impression of this dining room was old world charm. Spain was quite poor then and enduring Franco’s Communist regime; our U.S. dollars were much coveted.
As we drove across Europe we were reading a little book called The Impersonal Life by Joseph S. Benner. This book has been called a manual of spiritual teaching and discipline. It is the book that Elvis "had been looking for all his life." He said that it spoke to him in a clear and understanding voice. In this little book Elvis found food for his soul, and devoured it, as did we. We began to practice objectivity rather than subjectivity, and to begin to discover metaphysics, the branch of philosophy concerned wih the study of the nature of being and beings, existence, time and space, and causality. For me personally, it was a new way of looking at the same truths I was taught as a child, but the difference was that it helped me to identify that part of me that was in the driver's seat with God. You can look inside the pages of this little book at: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ISBN=0875163017/peterrussellA/#Basically, our values were slowly changing from material to spiritual.
We did the usual tourist stops at ancient cathedrals, monuments, and so on in Western Europe and as we progressed eastward, I was more and more in awe of the absolute history evident not only in the architecture, but also in the very lifestyle of the people. They seemed to have a calm sense of having been there a very long time, were more leisurely even in work, and seemed somehow more secure and grounded than people in newer places like Canada. We soon realized that it was really the people and their cultures in which we were interested. We were also eager to meet more hippies and to learn more about the hippie culture. Most evenings were spent making music, eating and visiting around a campfire in our campground, where we met other travelers going to or coming back from the East. From their stories we developed a wish list of places to visit – Greece, Turkey, Afghanistan, Nepal, India and Bali were highlighted as relatively safe and friendly, must see places.
Rural France was and is a lush and gorgeous country, with vineyards and olive groves everywhere, and warm and friendly people just wanting to have a glass of wine with us, or spend an evening dancing in a local disco. But when we arrived in Paris, viewed the Eifel Tower, The Louvre and all the other wonders of Paris, my most memorable impression of that great city was that it was a very cold place indeed. There was very little meeting of the minds, or even ordinary friendliness from the people in Paris, who seemed to regard themselves more highly than they deserved. The best of Paris for me was the food, and to this day French cuisine is one of my favorites.
One of the highlights of our trip through France was the Grand Prix at Monte Carlo on the Mediterranean Sea, adjacent to the city of Monaco on the French Riviera. Our campground was on a steep hillside which had been tiered to accommodate tents and campers. On our first night in this campground we met several young men who were also travelling east. We never would have known about the Grand Prix if these boys hadn't brought it up! So since we were there, we decided to go along for the fun of it. Two of the boys were brothers from Newport News, Virginia. They were sort of hillbillies with a strong southern drawl, and their sense of humour kept us laughing around our campfire well into the night. Another was a sweet blond boy from California. When the first few raindrops fell we all took cover in the sweet blond boy’s van where we smoked some joints and shared our histories and travel plans. Lucky for me, when everyone left to return to tents and campers, he suggested that I spend the night right where I was in order to stay dry, and I did. During the night the other girls were awakened to the unpleasant thrill of a river of icy water and gritty sand coursing through their sleeping bags and collapsing their tents. This torrent was cascading down the levels above us bringing with it sand, stones, pine needles, and various other debris. Needless to say the boys welcomed the girls into their camper for the duration of the night and the next day was spent drying out sleeping bags, removing buckets of sand from our tents, and trying to get our tents dry enough to sleep in that night. I must say that we weren’t all that perturbed about this disaster; it quit raining and the sun was hot and we had new friends! Most of our clothes were safely stowed in our Peugeot so we had something to wear to the Grand Prix the next day.
I remember our excitement as we arrived early in order to get seats on the bleachers set up along the course. We drank coffee, ate some muffins, and talked to people from all over the world who were there for the big race. My lasting impression of the Grand Prix is screaming cars tearing by, the smell of gasoline and exhaust, and a sea of excited people who knew this would very likely be a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. I was in awe that we were actually there!
We did put on our “finest silks” and checked out the famous and elegant Le Grand Casino[2] where the rich and famous from around the world part with a little of their worldly treasure or go home wealthier than ever. The point is that they are seen there – it’s a place that implies that you must be rich and famous if you’re gambling in Monte Carlo. What amazed me most was that when one is behaving in a real way, not contrived, with confidence, people feel no threat and respond in kind. We had a great time there and even did a little gambling!
It was time to move on, so we packed up and headed for Italy. We would meet up with the sweet blond boy from California and the brothers from Newport News, Virginia several more times during the trip to India.
[1] http://www.idealspain.com/pages/places/AlmeriaProvince.htm.
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monte_Carlo_Casino[2]
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Wisdom of Eeyore
"Don't be surprised if it hails a good deal tomorrow. Blizzards and what-not. Being fine today doesn't mean Anything. It's just a small piece of weather."
"It's snowing still. And freezing. However, we haven't had an earthquake lately."
"What with all this snow, not to mention icicles and such-like, it isn't so HOT in my field about three o'clock in the morning. In fact, quite-between-ourselves-and-don't-tell-anybody, it's COLD."
and my very favorite:
"It's always nice to hear about a party - knowing that they'll be sending you down the odd bits which got trodden on."
"It's snowing still. And freezing. However, we haven't had an earthquake lately."
"What with all this snow, not to mention icicles and such-like, it isn't so HOT in my field about three o'clock in the morning. In fact, quite-between-ourselves-and-don't-tell-anybody, it's COLD."
and my very favorite:
"It's always nice to hear about a party - knowing that they'll be sending you down the odd bits which got trodden on."
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