tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-125159792024-03-07T19:28:41.812-08:00Flamin' LibsThoughts and wanderings of our crazy family.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.comBlogger376125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-57958883836073533672015-08-17T11:10:00.001-07:002015-08-17T11:10:19.726-07:00Saklikent Gorge <div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1g9uAD_P6fkz9P2bC-2ZQIWUBcPGaovZuSTWaIDbRwxYdU3fFOVTHo-vJJS9i1a0IIH_QC2M66pvX5X8Bp8V_7TBnjelxDA53GKQG-4d8frO7Xqltl2XLeL498Ifl8flmwXYk/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1g9uAD_P6fkz9P2bC-2ZQIWUBcPGaovZuSTWaIDbRwxYdU3fFOVTHo-vJJS9i1a0IIH_QC2M66pvX5X8Bp8V_7TBnjelxDA53GKQG-4d8frO7Xqltl2XLeL498Ifl8flmwXYk/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The final thing on our Mediterranean Turkey to-do list was the Saklikent Gorge. This is a gorge (obviously) cut into the mountains by a river of snowmelt. You pay 3-6 liras to enter (kids-adults). Then you get to hike through the river up the gorge.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJUwfebY_yGpUVZ2jdMzx4i1V8wJ5mU3tTtGqDoKt1D30FXSkIWhv4VDoDoyf2K4z-RBkhPaNmhUvrzNnN5VMr0BypJGreDWekg45hk9_SQ82hoNYVwy2stR27FGLylcHxECf/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJUwfebY_yGpUVZ2jdMzx4i1V8wJ5mU3tTtGqDoKt1D30FXSkIWhv4VDoDoyf2K4z-RBkhPaNmhUvrzNnN5VMr0BypJGreDWekg45hk9_SQ82hoNYVwy2stR27FGLylcHxECf/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>After the fast section, the water slows down.</b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>They start you out where the water is fierce, where it has coming gushing seemingly straight out of the rocky side of the gorge cliffs. There is a rope to cling to as you pull yourself across and it is rather daunting and very cold. There are Turkish men in official t-shirts there offering their services to guide your party for a small fee. (Not actually very small in my opinion.) One of them helpfully took my hand as I struggled to cross that initial raging torrent. He assumed he was hired, but Kip sent him away when he started tagging along with us. I can't actually see why you would need a guide. I asked him what service he provided. He didn't speak much English and couldn't tell us anything about the gorge. His job was just to walk with us and maybe suggest ways to follow the river without getting hurt. Kip seemed a little upset at the idea that he couldn't lead his own family through a river-cut gorge without help.  And in all honesty, once we passed that initial rough spot at the entry, the rest of the river was not much more than a stream. The part at the entrance was where a second river joined the main one, making things deeper and faster just for a bit.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjwTLnABJ-q2Fwsqg7fPWCzuLxoOJJ_roc9AET2lI7HMDIS5LrZmeJgOAKJLXf_BlZ_5JCNTSE1UtT4Exje8neHWQdLp1szhQs1zGpdsBzoKJNv1EOMs6OZtlHKe1rP82QL36/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjwTLnABJ-q2Fwsqg7fPWCzuLxoOJJ_roc9AET2lI7HMDIS5LrZmeJgOAKJLXf_BlZ_5JCNTSE1UtT4Exje8neHWQdLp1szhQs1zGpdsBzoKJNv1EOMs6OZtlHKe1rP82QL36/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>So we took our chances going unguided and it turned out just fine. The water was cool. The gorge itself was cool - in temperature and appearance. Perhaps in spring or winter the river would be higher, but for us it was a pretty, easy walk through a gentle stream, rarely even knee deep.<br/>
<br/>We ended our journey at a waterfall. It wasn't much of a waterfall. And it wasn't meant to be the end of the hike. It was a huge boulder beside a small waterfall with a knotted rope available to climb. It climbed about 11 feet up, with water showering down on the head of the person climbing.  We saw that as a good stopping place. We headed back down the gorge. After having walked the rest of the gorge, the entry rapids didn't seem as daunting. We all made it across the rope just fine and found a quiet spot to rinse our shoes.</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Next item on the list was rafting down the river. You go out of the gorge for this and float down the river though the unshaded valley. We paid for the long ride, 1 1/2 hours. We got inner tubes, paddles, and life vests and helmets that smelled of tourist sweat. It took forever to finally get started, then we were off. Kip was tied to Anna. Bill and I were separate. We followed our guide with a group of short-ride tourists and their guide behind us. I was at the back of our family and kept paddling to try to catch up, but somehow I always ended up in shallow areas or heading off in the wrong direction. <br/>
<br/>It really was a lot of work. And Bill got tired and hungry. The last 45 minutes of our ride weren't the best. Our guide was a sun-browned, cheerful little man who sat high on his inner tube and paddled exactly where he wanted to go. He spoke to us mostly in gestures and seemed mildly discouraged by our inability to control our tubes in any way. They just seemed to go where they wanted in spite of our efforts.  The amount of soreness in my arm muscles the next day testifies to the fact that I was honestly trying. Eventually he gave up on us and had us all link together in a Killpack chain that he used his superman arm muscles to get where he wanted it to be. He took us down the last bit of our ride, splashing Bill sometimes in hopes of getting a smile (unsuccessful) or dumping water on my arms that were obviously burning (you'd think I'd learn). Finally, he dragged us into some shallows and we got to our unsteady feet. We hefted our tubes to the shore and the waiting van that drive us back to the entrance of the gorge. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRgxcRV4kq3f4rZsgrCLJsPi2dvc_AX_adylHN_f1RE_mtrNyrt89QGyoL9vmo2quUh9n0XJ-rZO58zVqL7RD-6JJ1nS567ScEhnCgH31t7aqujJADG2PiIjbv3A1_TfwrFbn/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRgxcRV4kq3f4rZsgrCLJsPi2dvc_AX_adylHN_f1RE_mtrNyrt89QGyoL9vmo2quUh9n0XJ-rZO58zVqL7RD-6JJ1nS567ScEhnCgH31t7aqujJADG2PiIjbv3A1_TfwrFbn/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Our waterside lunch restaurant. </b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>That was our final big adventure. We hiked Saklikent Gorge, we rode the river. It was fun. Even William agreed once he's had some lunch. And my arms were only a little sunburned in the end. </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-21636229367534905272015-08-17T09:45:00.001-07:002015-08-17T09:45:09.561-07:00Lycian Ruins<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpuMWimj1N64_0CKCNmUrpYWn8VDZqyC1NM-AQH4_OqyIMLCCRP3USi1t33JWmmZBWE1defZw4xSdjBlR25MlXxcMQhMfgoH2Pm-u67zSG3QH2LZcEcd1JL6JOslJbs_-OjeR/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpuMWimj1N64_0CKCNmUrpYWn8VDZqyC1NM-AQH4_OqyIMLCCRP3USi1t33JWmmZBWE1defZw4xSdjBlR25MlXxcMQhMfgoH2Pm-u67zSG3QH2LZcEcd1JL6JOslJbs_-OjeR/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We couldn't visit Southern Turkey without seeing some ruins of ancient Lycian civilizations.  The first ones we went to were a place called Patara on Anna's birthday, August 7th. You pay to drive in and for a while I was hopeful that you could see the ruins from the comfort of your air conditioned car.  You can see some of them, but eventually you get to park and walk around for a better view. There is a huge amphitheater.  You can climb up it and imagine what it would have been like to watch a Greek tragedy there on a hot evening. There is a partially reconstructed assembly hall where the Lycian League met. We put on a mini talent show on the stage while Kip judged from the judges' seats. There are two bath houses. With how miserably hot it was, I could see why they needed those. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1rQuOPlEmB4TJqPS_fmvq96bSkzLhz0g0dja_fCEPiGXsTL-9N1_aXaJNMY4boEVNI5JNGvGDJhQRPUGXyiKJoCHNjDt5UBbAyhTV5ukKvBh9-6CByBsplGptpzYqx9om7ny/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1rQuOPlEmB4TJqPS_fmvq96bSkzLhz0g0dja_fCEPiGXsTL-9N1_aXaJNMY4boEVNI5JNGvGDJhQRPUGXyiKJoCHNjDt5UBbAyhTV5ukKvBh9-6CByBsplGptpzYqx9om7ny/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We dragged the kids around the ruins until they couldn't take it anymore. There was a lot more we could have seen, but the heat had bested us. We went to the beach. </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Patara Beach is another sandy beach. It is a larger beach than Kaputas. This is one where you rent the chairs and umbrellas. We paid and chose ours and then Kip and I went to change to swimsuits. Yes, I had actually worn regular clothes for this sightseeing adventure. It was a mistake. My clothes were so soaked with sweat when I went to change that I could have rung them out. The sweat was dripping off my face as I struggled into my swimsuit in the stifling heat of the changing room.<br/>
<br/>Another excitingly hot thing about this beach was the sand. It was like walking on fire. Ok, for any of you that have actually walked on fire I realize this is an exaggeration. But it was insanely hot. It was hot enough to illicit a cry of 'Crikey!' from an Australian woman in front of Kip at one point.  We all left our flip flops and sandals back at our chairs and ran over to the water. Running was the only way to do it.<br/>
<br/>The water was delightful. The perfect temperature. Cool but not cold. And pockets of warmth would embrace you every few minutes, just for a second or two and then they were past.  The only problem was getting back to our seats when we decided to get out. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIzO3Bw8-2B73SUU5MwIhn-zhr9bBHqQBISL3knQFqBi8xtduJobENGB5SprxEecB1Ygj0SZF5fq4RbbE8Lbj99qu9HCmTFy26EhHOVSDrE5qRmypuoatF8bG3LSAikiOvZI8r/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIzO3Bw8-2B73SUU5MwIhn-zhr9bBHqQBISL3knQFqBi8xtduJobENGB5SprxEecB1Ygj0SZF5fq4RbbE8Lbj99qu9HCmTFy26EhHOVSDrE5qRmypuoatF8bG3LSAikiOvZI8r/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The next Lycian ruins we visited were Xanthos the day following Anna's birthday. Xanthos was a Lycian capital city. It had another big amphitheater, again frequently visited by goats. At Patara there had been goat droppings at the top of the amphitheater. At Xanthos there were actual goats. And a lot more droppings. Kip and the kids put on a little show for me and Wendy and Ferdinand, then we displaced the goats by trying to join then in the little bit of shade at the top of the amphitheater. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEVnMfxfhPFndw-wiuY93iLVAb2sU_PXgxi_Lkuez221OcoDiw99fMa4n3RzssD8vjgrC5I_sol7PmSdLjeqw4rGxfs0r1-ZNCMNJsUTcm7uyNC7kOtYx11e38WKlsQrGV9vJ/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEVnMfxfhPFndw-wiuY93iLVAb2sU_PXgxi_Lkuez221OcoDiw99fMa4n3RzssD8vjgrC5I_sol7PmSdLjeqw4rGxfs0r1-ZNCMNJsUTcm7uyNC7kOtYx11e38WKlsQrGV9vJ/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>After getting our fill of the shaded, goat-smelly seats, we moved on to the necropolis. We climbed the hot mountainside and had a look at the tombs of the ancient inhabitants. The tombs we peaked into are filled no longer with the bodies of Lycians, but only with the strong scent of goat droppings. Those goats!<br/>
<br/>There's no beach in Xanthos. It's built above a river. So when we couldn't take the heat anymore, we decided the other sites of Xanthos were not for us. We climbed in our cars, cranked the ac, and drove home to our cool swimming pool.</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-23490265420766591222015-08-11T06:22:00.000-07:002015-08-11T06:33:22.195-07:00Nephew Ferdinand<div class="blogaway-section"><p>The Killpacks are bad news for Ferdinand.  Ferdinand is my 2-year-old nephew. He lives here in Turkey with my sister Wendy and her husband Willem. They are the reason we chose Turkey as our vacation spot this time. We had sabbatical and thought it would be nice to go somewhere exotic that also had family to visit. Turkey was the place.<br/>
<br/>We arrived in Ankara on Sunday evening, July 26th.  Wendy was at the ER with Ferdinand at that point. He had had his toe smashed by someone's chair at a dinner party. To be honest, we weren't actually with him when that one happened, so I'm not sure we can be blamed. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWCs_w210tqAg9UYNt5C8Wg8nZzqlt5T5TZD5chmnltUZaSt5Bp7euNlSg-yPi911fUsG9UgVoUl9rpUp4McLmgvfmoX5seEeELQ5TZWRgMCSyxBgL4P4ltqFyfBTZhw_q9bJ/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWCs_w210tqAg9UYNt5C8Wg8nZzqlt5T5TZD5chmnltUZaSt5Bp7euNlSg-yPi911fUsG9UgVoUl9rpUp4McLmgvfmoX5seEeELQ5TZWRgMCSyxBgL4P4ltqFyfBTZhw_q9bJ/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Becca on Ferdinand's Y-bike. </b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We had a good time with the Nassmacher family after that, mostly relaxing in their nice apartment. We played at the play structures and looked for the rabbits that live in the green space. We went to the mall across the street.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWiDveCOCqzR6nelCin0_GoJOxCTzvwuu4JdE3lovyFKySkaaRznd3jIxYGRsOA24k8Anaxh4XYGkXS2ROl3qbNe__GuD_FJmV4gOyuCb3qlnHRdXVuxrv9d6tIxaJMgNJDy_/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWiDveCOCqzR6nelCin0_GoJOxCTzvwuu4JdE3lovyFKySkaaRznd3jIxYGRsOA24k8Anaxh4XYGkXS2ROl3qbNe__GuD_FJmV4gOyuCb3qlnHRdXVuxrv9d6tIxaJMgNJDy_/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>After our trip to Cappadocia, we came back to Ankara. On Saturday, Uncle Willem came up with a fun plan. We rented bikes to ride around a lake near their apartment. Things started out great. Becca was a little nervous, but got more comfortable as we rode. The lake has a paved road around it and some Turkish cafés here and there. There were lots of other bikers riding that morning, and a few cars from time to time. After we'd gone about half way, we had a pileup. Bill and Uncle Willem clipped each other and Bill went off into the bushes. Another friend riding with us stopped to see what had happened and Becca crashed into him and went off into the bushes on her side. I watched from the back in dismay. I saw Bill go down and then suddenly realized that Becca was also down. Then, I saw Aunt Wendy's bike go down. She had slowed down and was looking in concern after my children and the top-heavy bike with toddler seat tipped too far and fell. It fell so slowly I thought Ferdinand would be no more than shaken, but he hit his head and was gushing blood. <br/>
<br/>For the second time during our visit, Ferdinand was off to the ER. He ended up with plastic surgery to try to minimize the scarring.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9sz1fytNZdRRKTVMMgbtOVL7xnglHqS0kAv2V61Y8dFnobaOXW016NHAZP6lhdNIxa6dPjcn3cp7OqILlI_Tg8YQH18JbieTnWsVckv7I-DKTFpM4pzo5bzV53mIWeUaFaZw/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9sz1fytNZdRRKTVMMgbtOVL7xnglHqS0kAv2V61Y8dFnobaOXW016NHAZP6lhdNIxa6dPjcn3cp7OqILlI_Tg8YQH18JbieTnWsVckv7I-DKTFpM4pzo5bzV53mIWeUaFaZw/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Now, Ferdinand is with us in Kalkan. One of the first days here Becca asked to ride with him in the car. She opened the car door on the slope we are living on and it smacked him in the face. At Anna's birthday dinner he was playing on his chair and it fell over. Kip caught it in flight, but it still fell. He scraped his arm, knee, and cheek.<br/>
<br/>We all hold our breath when he does his 2-year-old toddlering. Climbing around the ruins at Xanthos the other day, I was terrified he would fall. Trotting around the pool at our villa, we all fear he will slip. We all call out to him to walk, slow down, no running.  He seems to be getting hurt a lot with us around. But I'm hopeful that we've seen the worst of it. </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-19548308685051121622015-08-11T06:11:00.000-07:002015-08-11T06:33:22.186-07:00The Waters of Kalkan<div class="blogaway-section"><p>The last leg of our trip involved one more set of flights on Turkish Air.  We flew from Ankara to Istanbul and then to Dalaman on the southern Mediterranean coast of Turkey. My luggage is falling apart. I packed the outside pouches too full and one burst. Somehow we didn't lose anything that I can tell. After an insanely long time at the car rental counter, we got a lovely white rental car to drive two hours east to Kalkan. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80BYUjAFKiinmhc60AX6QJMA1ZRheyAkXNjtrUrGOwkrz2XlCVRlZpDt54a7eMH7v9Xs57lJCeCFBLvwnxQBb5fKHstDRgm5MLKNDIjSKUlRxFxLYlhpLq1q4RZ16RbY6901l/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80BYUjAFKiinmhc60AX6QJMA1ZRheyAkXNjtrUrGOwkrz2XlCVRlZpDt54a7eMH7v9Xs57lJCeCFBLvwnxQBb5fKHstDRgm5MLKNDIjSKUlRxFxLYlhpLq1q4RZ16RbY6901l/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We are again on a hill overlooking the water, just like in Istanbul. Our first morning we walked down the hill to the beach. The walk back up almost killed us. At least, it almost killed me and I almost killed Becca.  The humidity and heat had us melting and exhausted and Becca kept whining that I was choosing places on hills on purpose to make her miserable. I was not overly happy to have her complaining at me when I was so uncomfortable already.<br/>
<br/>Our house also has plenty of stairs. It has 3 floors and a roof terrace above those. We don't often go up there. But we're constantly up and down the first couple floors and frequently up to the laundry on the hot hot 3rd floor. But my fitbit won't be bragging to anyone about the steps I'm getting. I have a Fitbit One that clips onto my clothes but it isn't swimsuit friendly. And the weather and private swimming pool have meant that I've been wearing a swimsuit almost constantly.<br/>
<br/>We planned this part of our trip to be the relaxing part of the trip. Not so much sightseeing as lounging at the pool or the beach. But there have been little trips to see interesting things. There are a lot of Lycian ruins around. And there are some beaches worth leaving our private pool to see.<br/>
<br/>Beaches are interesting here.  In the States, the beaches along the coasts are mostly public beaches. You find a place to park, maybe in the public lot, then walk down and set yourself up with blankets, towels, chairs, umbrellas, and stay until you feel like leaving. That's not how things work here. Here, the beaches seem to be owned almost entirely by restauranteurs.  They set up beach chairs and umbrellas and you borrow them. Sometimes you pay to rent them for the day. Sometimes you don't. If you don't, the expectation is that you will buy some food and drinks there.<br/>
<br/>The beach down from our house is one where you don't have to pay for chairs or umbrellas. You can sit wherever you like and there's even a waterslide. There are servers going around delivering things like milkshakes and fancy drinks to people. The food is spendy, but it's convenient. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkYmBEtR2MOyJCGJxQMwg7UtYyPsWg4e1CQM04ZM8YkCc_GM02JhiOETXemu2bJiObC7E7AqTiaDG1g72Z77BQQMMQeJ-hjwvIrhubkEiBFcuVgRMB0NiqcNoJmDeKPhDWsOK/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkYmBEtR2MOyJCGJxQMwg7UtYyPsWg4e1CQM04ZM8YkCc_GM02JhiOETXemu2bJiObC7E7AqTiaDG1g72Z77BQQMMQeJ-hjwvIrhubkEiBFcuVgRMB0NiqcNoJmDeKPhDWsOK/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8VxjHe1GQOmoJ1ofWrH-SEJfqpK5ehWiJ3oIomvPu4m2MrVvM48Z2xvDFCb7K_S3n4-eoF1Jp7kfAbjPyE-r1bFHc4rpL_xdANpa4kmPKPGPZbBXBpR1qP_YifXqCoedOQH8/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8VxjHe1GQOmoJ1ofWrH-SEJfqpK5ehWiJ3oIomvPu4m2MrVvM48Z2xvDFCb7K_S3n4-eoF1Jp7kfAbjPyE-r1bFHc4rpL_xdANpa4kmPKPGPZbBXBpR1qP_YifXqCoedOQH8/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Another beach we visited was Kaputas. It's a beautiful sandy beach just to the east. You park up on the street and have to climb 200 steps down. We went in the evening when it wasn't terribly crowded. It was beautiful. But there were a lot of wasps that really liked my towel when I settled down to read while the rest of the family swam. So, it being almost dusk and closing time anyway, we didn't stay too late or get any food at the restaurant.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMvfpt92w55AEgbVUNCOEwzmHRfXo_HypUZJkEUoWGPeHPKkK5DwhcuCsS0eLQ3Q8cIwt6xIBuEmWzMRhNT0TvngVeEIaSoOlDmvD-x9IsHqK9yUtQeTIIkoCe0kGnGjbYjRg/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMvfpt92w55AEgbVUNCOEwzmHRfXo_HypUZJkEUoWGPeHPKkK5DwhcuCsS0eLQ3Q8cIwt6xIBuEmWzMRhNT0TvngVeEIaSoOlDmvD-x9IsHqK9yUtQeTIIkoCe0kGnGjbYjRg/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The other beach we've visited was at Patara, which is also a Lycian ruin. It's one where you effectively have to pay twice because first you pay to enter the archeological site of Patara, then you pay to rent the chairs and umbrellas.  It is the best, beachiest beach we've found, with soft (HOT) white sand and gentle waves. But expensive with the double entry fee and 20 minutes away.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXimBaAuBiB7i10r3YUZNKuQpoJxVLiqPBAy3773s4iDLUzDRolillyj1Yn_5fSSCXMvKlKNIBHDQlxT9ZkB0FVXVa4OcN4JH9VwEdcA_IWtHHSHpfsoHlnzF7WxrnGXBedHtA/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXimBaAuBiB7i10r3YUZNKuQpoJxVLiqPBAy3773s4iDLUzDRolillyj1Yn_5fSSCXMvKlKNIBHDQlxT9ZkB0FVXVa4OcN4JH9VwEdcA_IWtHHSHpfsoHlnzF7WxrnGXBedHtA/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The water at all the beaches is nice, but or private pool is nice, too. It is about 5 feet deep, so the girls can't reach the bottom. They don't seem to mind too much, especially since I bought them a few floaties. And cousin Ferdinand has developed a love for our pool, paddling around happily in his little floaty jacket for longer than any of the rest of us want to be there. And one of the nicest things in my opinion is that it has 5 available bathrooms.  In desperate times 5 of the 7 of us could pee all at the same time and it wouldn't cost a single Turkish Lira!  Oh, and it's nice that it has afternoon shade so we don't further burn our arms or shoulders.<br/>
<br/>It's a nice villa. It's a nice town. It's a good vacation<br/>
</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-68085536052141215052015-08-08T11:21:00.001-07:002015-08-08T11:21:49.167-07:00Hot or Cold<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJh9oKRW68LUXKpI69izdUh8yv1ebbI2VKhAw0JR6N2lm5PmjFODqVcGjVRWOCkGWyuaqoXdh7TVktJDq4FG0tSbza1uA8tk8Q-2D1aeZMjFlDXzZQ-PwPjBSchk38QgY81hVJ/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJh9oKRW68LUXKpI69izdUh8yv1ebbI2VKhAw0JR6N2lm5PmjFODqVcGjVRWOCkGWyuaqoXdh7TVktJDq4FG0tSbza1uA8tk8Q-2D1aeZMjFlDXzZQ-PwPjBSchk38QgY81hVJ/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>I learned something about my headaches today, Friday, July31st. At least, I developed a new theory. <br/>
<br/>A few years ago a friend gave us an above ground pool. When the weather got hot, we set it up in the back yard. Unfortunately for the pool, our backyard is almost entirely shaded. The pool never managed to warm up. You'd think on a 90 degree day, a dip in a 70 degree pool would be refreshing, but it wasn't. It was torture. The kids frequently still wanted to do it, but I really didn't. I just felt like I should for safety reasons.<br/>
<br/>I noticed something during this time. If I got in the cold water on a hot day, I invariably got a migraine. I thought for a long time it was just a coincidence. Or that it was just the heat. But I eventually recognized that after a short time in the pool, my head would start to throb. It always looked like it would be refreshing, but I came to understand that it would cause me pain. <br/>
<br/>Something along those lines has been happening here. <br/><br/></p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijb6HJonv8Co66n-WtMVhBOKO4Liy6_Mj85uXJYeoPckvSKrEtpNx2Uwfqp5q5bX_-OiLsuup7VxR6Qn7R_-rZfSuzkuvkmjuRTfMUC44WZ7J2NTk0Do_pW2Rp66B6mGUeukBl/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijb6HJonv8Co66n-WtMVhBOKO4Liy6_Mj85uXJYeoPckvSKrEtpNx2Uwfqp5q5bX_-OiLsuup7VxR6Qn7R_-rZfSuzkuvkmjuRTfMUC44WZ7J2NTk0Do_pW2Rp66B6mGUeukBl/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We went this week to Cappadocia (kap-ah-doh-ky-uh).  It was hot there, near 100 degrees every day. But Cappadocia is known for its underground cities and 'Fairy chimney' cave dwellings that stay a constant, cool temperature. On a hot afternoon, we went down into an underground city. I came out of the cool refreshing darkness back into the hot glaring sunlight and realized soon after that I was headachey. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfcj31CN0VkzJfUuSKnkVPjKbCX_VU53RpKUaUOH6Hx9K1_eyPdjwJIzWVhf6JvnhJeqstIoqflVEZS7rizKVbUSNjj1XKxzQGDBW0ktPtrH29Zv0vz5SW_GGCkh-CtT8v1RJ/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfcj31CN0VkzJfUuSKnkVPjKbCX_VU53RpKUaUOH6Hx9K1_eyPdjwJIzWVhf6JvnhJeqstIoqflVEZS7rizKVbUSNjj1XKxzQGDBW0ktPtrH29Zv0vz5SW_GGCkh-CtT8v1RJ/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Today, we drove from Wendy's apartment in Ankara to the Gordion museum to learn about King Midas (he really existed, but probably couldn't turn things to gold) and the Phrygians and Hittites who lived historically in the Gordion area of central Turkey. Across from the small but fascinating museum you can enter one of the burial mounds that dot the landscape. It's called the King Midas tumulus, but archaeologists now believe it belonged to a different king before Midas. We walked from the museum in 100 degree weather, across the street toward the giant mound of dirt. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04uD1VgaspqQEfhmx2NjIExj9vttgOqsLnPg_2toUY7-zQIrLnufgQSyKrFLIYHBx5eOaGNQX_b7nJFLpG9No_jf9mEgheFGaG7v-QQ5BjDvJnwtyRaOPFnXCvHyoNkDDzb_s/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04uD1VgaspqQEfhmx2NjIExj9vttgOqsLnPg_2toUY7-zQIrLnufgQSyKrFLIYHBx5eOaGNQX_b7nJFLpG9No_jf9mEgheFGaG7v-QQ5BjDvJnwtyRaOPFnXCvHyoNkDDzb_s/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We entered the tunnel and were greeted by a blast of cool air. It was amazing and I joked about how, if I worked at the museum, I would always be over at the tomb. The farther down the tunnel we went, the colder it got.<br/>
<br/>There's not much to see at the end of the tunnel. They've barred it all off like the actual tomb is in prison.  Visitors can merely look through the bars at the wooden building that was the king's final resting place. The wood has been reinforced with metal supports and stone walls keep the piled earth from collapsing back into the excavation site. All the tomb contents are either at the museum across the street or in other museums, so it is only an empty chamber now. It looks like an empty log cabin buried in a mountainside.<br/>
<br/>After getting a good look inside, we headed back down the 86 meter tunnel. The closer we got to the entrance, the hotter it became. Coming from outside, the tunnel had been amazingly cool even just at the entrance. Returning from the inside, the entrance felt oppressively hot. The closer I got to the exit, the worse I felt. By the time we reached the entry, I was nauseous. <br/>
<br/>Back in the car, I started to get a headache. I cursed the hot, desert sun. Then, it clicked. Going from hot to cold and back gives me a headache. Maybe even just going from hot to cold. I'm not sure.<br/>
<br/>It's not like this is the *Only* headache trigger I have, but it was interesting to discover this new thing about myself. Of course, it's not actually a 'new thing.' It's a new discovery of something that has probably always been happening. Extreme temperature changes give me a headache. I'll have to pay more attention to this one to see exactly how it works. Or try to avoid it and have fewer headaches.</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-27866232253983508372015-08-05T12:11:00.001-07:002015-08-05T12:11:06.639-07:00Goreme Sights<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVfliBzT4lKkD-reeJh1z_X0wlBTgGGyVdTItA4PXBliklqdby3faDtUpOY6G0U6N-FceLcmBY2u0nEEaNS0gQrKPqhkkxzk2L8hblCVCyj7TUT9yTRHHUXPqL8d714kRDE_d/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVfliBzT4lKkD-reeJh1z_X0wlBTgGGyVdTItA4PXBliklqdby3faDtUpOY6G0U6N-FceLcmBY2u0nEEaNS0gQrKPqhkkxzk2L8hblCVCyj7TUT9yTRHHUXPqL8d714kRDE_d/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>After the balloon ride was over we returned to the cave hotel. We had had our big adventure. We had flown over Cappadocia and watched the sun rise. (It was like this: we were down in one of the valleys and the balloon pilot asked if we were ready to see the sun rise. We said yes and he pushed the lever to shoot fire from the propane tank. We rose high into the air and the sun popped out from behind a hillside. Sunrise on demand.) We took a short nap and woke up for breakfast. We were tempted to sleep for hours, but the kids were ready to go, so we went out to see the open air museum. This is a collection of small Christian churches carved into the rocky hillsides. It's all really impressive. I couldn't understand why they wanted so many churches right by each other, though. Most had been decorated with beautiful murals. Over time, a lot of the paint chipped away or faded in the light. One, called the Dark Church, has held up better than the others. It's murals are still almost completely intact. You have to pay extra to go in and you can't take pictures, but I thought it was worth it. I took in Bill and Becca and we happened to enter right after an American man who did his graduate studies in byzantine history. He was explaining all the murals to his wife and we got to listen in. It was fascinating. The murals depicted events in Jesus' life, his birth, fleeing to Egypt, the transfiguration. Once he pointed them out, the images were obvious. I was glad he was there.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnj2-Z_Er2EjDDufGqwAuEGd-W3_r6PPr9EcX5o-DKRTxtU8nTTJESdiLiYdbozAHsDTYsxmFfSXQ3i08SKJfkE1jx73MMOR1H3BwkJ-KKlXW2nHQr7VTnuqeRlGn4MTSkBoP/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnj2-Z_Er2EjDDufGqwAuEGd-W3_r6PPr9EcX5o-DKRTxtU8nTTJESdiLiYdbozAHsDTYsxmFfSXQ3i08SKJfkE1jx73MMOR1H3BwkJ-KKlXW2nHQr7VTnuqeRlGn4MTSkBoP/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>After lunch we decided to escape the heat by visiting one of the underground cities. We paid our admission fee then started down into the tunnel. We were followed by an enterprising young tour guide, offering his services to help us learn from the trip. I thought it would be nice, given that I felt I hadn't really gotten much from the open air museum until the American man explained the Dark Church to me. We hired him. He gave us a ton of detail we wouldn't otherwise have known. I was glad we had hired him. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6TOh6j4HP_nxDGvTxkyMZyQO0QJARoC24bmHWBiayh6R90SAgtLuBYoB09i5ddkIvHtMXkHaigy6GznIFZEbHyovBdojYyYsQeYdTBm-7Y62bWKQzWxPoGoRB8umypzXBIqj/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6TOh6j4HP_nxDGvTxkyMZyQO0QJARoC24bmHWBiayh6R90SAgtLuBYoB09i5ddkIvHtMXkHaigy6GznIFZEbHyovBdojYyYsQeYdTBm-7Y62bWKQzWxPoGoRB8umypzXBIqj/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Saying goodbye to the hotel dog, Panda.</b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The next day, Thursday July <u>30th</u>, was check out day. We had our hotel breakfast and then decided we wanted to see the Ihlara valley. Only, not everyone wanted to hike in the heat. Anna really didn't want to. So we decided to have Kip, Bill and Becca hike it and I would drive with Anna to the end to pick them up. It was my first driving in Turkey and I was a little nervous, but the area was only little villages and very few people. I made it to where the trail ends, but I wasn't sure where the hikers would come out, so I drove around. The trail follows a river and at the end of the trail, people have built river cafes where you can sit over the water or even with your feet in the water and eat. After the last café is a little one-car bridge that leads into the nearest town, Belisirme.  I headed across the bridge, not sure where else to go. There was a little man with two walking canes crossing the bridge. He got my attention and asked in turkish if we were going to Belisirme. I said yes and he signed that he wanted a ride. I've heard stories of how kind and trusting the Turkish people are. I figured I could take a chance on this hitchhiking old man. He climbed in and we drove toward the village. If I hadn't had the GPS telling me I was going the right way, I would have thought we were driving through a ruin. And there are ruins along the way. The part of the village between the river and the main town is old and not in great repair. We climbed the crumbling streets until we finally reached a paved road and soon after that,  the more modern part of the town. My passenger let me know where to drop him. I was glad to have helped. It would have been a long hot walk with his canes. <br/>
<br/>Anna and I started back to the river. Only, I realized that I hadn't paid much attention on the way. I got turned around and asked some cute little girls on a doorstep for help. They weren't incredibly helpful, not speaking much English, but we exchanged names and shook hands and I gave them gum, the only candy I had with me. I eventually got my GPS working and figured out which little road to take, dodged the speeding tourist vans (full of people who paid for a day-long guided tour), and found my way back to the river and water cafés. Anna and I used the tiny bit of cash I had <u>left</u> on me to buy ice cream bars and sat at the last café to wait. Kip and the B's (Becca and Bill) arrived a little while later and we drove like the wind back to Ankara and Aunt Wendy. </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-1270465028960136352015-08-04T10:05:00.001-07:002015-08-04T10:05:05.011-07:00The Big Balloon Event<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_m0FkLvAmpGBfex8gR5_kyzPLQDVaj0LnQJ5CCl9Yo7-RMESoSp0w5sSRlbp0DbplTIUuG7CCV5iYZVEt_8x0zy3e6U4f8T89XmoMNam24974NxCNr67ZKqQ9eK08s7VS0-H/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_m0FkLvAmpGBfex8gR5_kyzPLQDVaj0LnQJ5CCl9Yo7-RMESoSp0w5sSRlbp0DbplTIUuG7CCV5iYZVEt_8x0zy3e6U4f8T89XmoMNam24974NxCNr67ZKqQ9eK08s7VS0-H/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Our big event in Cappadocia, the one everyone is told not to miss, was a hot air balloon sunrise flight. I couldn't sleep that night. I was excited. I was nervous. I was upset that we hadn't brought our sweaters. Even central Turkey is chilly at 4am. I tossed. I journaled, I daydreamed. And I slept a little and had some unpleasant dreams. <br/>
<br/>4am finally came.  We loaded into a van and went to the balloon office. They fed us snacks while collecting all the passengers and finally around 5 am we headed out. We went to a field where 4 balloons from our company (voyager) were already under way filling with hot air. They put 20-25 people in each basket and we were off, up into the cool morning air above Cappadocia.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvs4mttSKWbZggGnfJwx_0r4bxvXHDr0YJe1kc1gDbTg7he0oA_KBLnVyxv2h_m_1D0LMPEhpMEtBTqc_A-fLP1QpfMEHMzsOkJSVN-x7-QqTM-HLLkDcDCYFXtRc8WMP8tTh9/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvs4mttSKWbZggGnfJwx_0r4bxvXHDr0YJe1kc1gDbTg7he0oA_KBLnVyxv2h_m_1D0LMPEhpMEtBTqc_A-fLP1QpfMEHMzsOkJSVN-x7-QqTM-HLLkDcDCYFXtRc8WMP8tTh9/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWrCv0WfEZCfMWxVSVGWYUgg7hCZG9rzZvwxqTSqTWrbOP2ktoiHIdce0XnRUCW-WyxUhRuUtyr0wVVAx_BInFHBGauPxAFGqkGY6vssIbRG3bCDCw22J5kCqfFpAjsP1u_2c/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWrCv0WfEZCfMWxVSVGWYUgg7hCZG9rzZvwxqTSqTWrbOP2ktoiHIdce0XnRUCW-WyxUhRuUtyr0wVVAx_BInFHBGauPxAFGqkGY6vssIbRG3bCDCw22J5kCqfFpAjsP1u_2c/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The flight was amazing. We went super hight with the landscape far below us. We went deep down into a valley full of fairy chimneys and brushed the rocks as we passed them. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLE7vXRZeE5cHQiNXGzgyTl7VXmI69uX2D9Ig6rgd4xgk8FrVresGIONC7EC7uvVNB7XySQpX92VfFXIaR543iSvDToOZQfdLnrvpKMKtS2CX4b3LvlQ5BTUfq-UT20siGk6NW/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLE7vXRZeE5cHQiNXGzgyTl7VXmI69uX2D9Ig6rgd4xgk8FrVresGIONC7EC7uvVNB7XySQpX92VfFXIaR543iSvDToOZQfdLnrvpKMKtS2CX4b3LvlQ5BTUfq-UT20siGk6NW/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The next morning I woke to a strange noise at 6:30 am. After taking some time for my mind to process it, I recognized that the hot air balloons were flying over our valley. I ran out to take pictures. Hundreds of tourists fly over Cappadocia every morning. It must be a good business to be in! </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-30513622712236229672015-08-04T09:03:00.001-07:002015-08-04T09:03:56.064-07:00Goreme in Cappadocia<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvq8z_HznwRZnxFW_ny0z2PomlCcOBW0_U76jl9T_hLY8eYAt307PZtMxxmrg1FHgVHKPE3UT5aOgRVSz7iituXQTjxNy_ArsNJtszzRpuwkY9jIXEOJ8dxgEUdjQDMunlAjZV/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvq8z_HznwRZnxFW_ny0z2PomlCcOBW0_U76jl9T_hLY8eYAt307PZtMxxmrg1FHgVHKPE3UT5aOgRVSz7iituXQTjxNy_ArsNJtszzRpuwkY9jIXEOJ8dxgEUdjQDMunlAjZV/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>After our stop at the salt lake, went the rest of the way to our hotel in Goreme (Gor-em-eh).  Goreme is fascinating. This is the part of Cappadocia I saw in pictures with a rocky landscape littered with tall rock structures called fairy chimneys. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLO1sOPsSFiX8Bk51GKsVIbl5a8RTHMARuHIXbPwvTiOkrOMIs8R1R0r4MTWHHWyF74xxTW1xQ6zX3Nxr50s-_eX8rjUDgGEA032GVux0sWrbwrNw8ZBIyn2noUO-evw8n4pwi/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLO1sOPsSFiX8Bk51GKsVIbl5a8RTHMARuHIXbPwvTiOkrOMIs8R1R0r4MTWHHWyF74xxTW1xQ6zX3Nxr50s-_eX8rjUDgGEA032GVux0sWrbwrNw8ZBIyn2noUO-evw8n4pwi/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>In the town of Goreme, people have turned the fairy chimneys into hotels and shops. They've built structures around them and hotel rooms that climb up inside. Our hotel was one of these. It was a maze of hallways and staircases and rooms and a big fairy chimney in the middle of it all. Our set of rooms were in the middle of the fairy chimney (pictured above, our door on the left and the windows going out to the right).</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3Q9NJ5nnqjjXavwfpYkvSeLHL9GU7HMqJ5d4Jk21SkZkLsoQZe8sR_RPzH8A7x-qznbgxfM9blpOwqMmehTDsPCOOdHW2qwrfhW6fdqbAbXZWAfqIB765680edV_1okIQ4yM/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR3Q9NJ5nnqjjXavwfpYkvSeLHL9GU7HMqJ5d4Jk21SkZkLsoQZe8sR_RPzH8A7x-qznbgxfM9blpOwqMmehTDsPCOOdHW2qwrfhW6fdqbAbXZWAfqIB765680edV_1okIQ4yM/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkuPdeqhPT9ldq39iG1baRo6bpc1BWqGS61ReZWc0tWXZHFKSuZ3Q4wWvLykuLWj8LrcOL5ioVfv8LkQch071O_wzEEeQqm0rklhEMrASIZZYjajJyQljTjnf41YcTboJDTOM7/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkuPdeqhPT9ldq39iG1baRo6bpc1BWqGS61ReZWc0tWXZHFKSuZ3Q4wWvLykuLWj8LrcOL5ioVfv8LkQch071O_wzEEeQqm0rklhEMrASIZZYjajJyQljTjnf41YcTboJDTOM7/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>It was nice and cool inside even though outside was hot and miserable. We had 4 cave rooms. The girls were down a set of stone steps at the door. A wooden step ladder went up to a sitting room. Bill had a little alcove room behind that and then up another set of steep stairs was the master bedroom with bathroom. It was pretty comfortable. The kids loved the drums and instruments stashed in the alcove behind the sofa. When I was recovering from an afternoon migraine one day (with some 'migren tuzu' on my head) they did a full hour concert, filmed in time lapse on my iPad. It was appreciated by the neighbors, maybe as much as by me. The big drum was Loud!</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-46305288283161404532015-08-04T08:29:00.001-07:002015-08-04T08:29:49.125-07:00On the way to Cappadoccia <div class="blogaway-section"><p>We went from Istanbul to Ankara to spend some time with my sister and her cute little man. After a day relaxing there, we did a little trip to Cappadocia. It takes about 2 1/2 hours to drive there from Ankara. We took a little longer because we stopped at the Salt Lake. It was a big lake. It took probably half an hour to drive past it. The weather was hot. You walk past the vendor stalls to get out onto the beach. They put salt scrub on your hands as you pass then you have to go wash it in their sink and they try to sell you some to take home. I was tempted. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALN42Hyd7Q6MvQaotYctTGO3Zz9C_4IqBel0Vzion8wlwxOpt4Z6CupaIQbKQ_DoBNCoR_jiTypUODe26orl4FN-WT6rNvF7rs6T4gKoYxAIWOmRO4HpsoPxTpZ_38FYkSaAN/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiALN42Hyd7Q6MvQaotYctTGO3Zz9C_4IqBel0Vzion8wlwxOpt4Z6CupaIQbKQ_DoBNCoR_jiTypUODe26orl4FN-WT6rNvF7rs6T4gKoYxAIWOmRO4HpsoPxTpZ_38FYkSaAN/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The beach is covered with what looks like bright white sand. But it's really white chunks of salt. As I neared the water, I  removed my shoes. The salt chunks were sharp, uncomfortable to walk on. I waded out a little way into the water, found Kip and the girls who had gotten out there faster than me, then turned back.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEb0i4ou39tCswTYZsLReiITStYUn9kmfed9EUozo45gdlqu-S9lrSW2ZidRnAmc3kzr7YqbG0FZxbFtoR41k2yc7ASY0-o79TCFJsPNSH0TntTpoFqSRH08EPl-wzCiFUZZse/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEb0i4ou39tCswTYZsLReiITStYUn9kmfed9EUozo45gdlqu-S9lrSW2ZidRnAmc3kzr7YqbG0FZxbFtoR41k2yc7ASY0-o79TCFJsPNSH0TntTpoFqSRH08EPl-wzCiFUZZse/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Walking in the salty water had splashed it up onto our legs. It dried quickly in the heart, leaving white salty residue up to our knees. As we walked back to the car, I saw a poster advertising 'migraine salt.' I never pass up a migraine remedy. I went back down, holding my hands up and out of reach of the men with the salt scrub and asked for the 'migren tuzu.' They directed me to the right spot and I bought some. It's some sort of stick of peppermint that you rub on your head when you feel headachey. I assume there's salt in there, too. I got to try it out a few days later. It felt nice. </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-16711765064203347802015-07-30T11:42:00.001-07:002015-07-30T11:42:53.847-07:00Sunday in Istanbul<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkxi1ZCC4FAIuX49s-QjsA5A27bHY-NiGVXip8aimOUh1xUiS5IGz_VCLcM8pxzYJ4ushJJSf_KC7Cr6imonTQXanHQm2GVX_HoOHxnjCdUedjxxkafjr17LMMT0n9XeKdvrjv/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkxi1ZCC4FAIuX49s-QjsA5A27bHY-NiGVXip8aimOUh1xUiS5IGz_VCLcM8pxzYJ4ushJJSf_KC7Cr6imonTQXanHQm2GVX_HoOHxnjCdUedjxxkafjr17LMMT0n9XeKdvrjv/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Taking a break at the end of the metro ride. </b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Our final Istanbul adventure was to attend church on Sunday.  We dragged our bags with us so that we could catch a taxi right after church and head to the airport. We rolled our two rolling luggages down the rough cobbled roads from our apartment hill to the tram station.  We tried to pack really light, so that's what we have: two rolling mid-sized bags for all of us to share and a backpack each.  Becca wasn't feeling well and whined a lot about the weight of her backpack.  We were sympathetic. Well, a little sympathetic. <br/>
<br/>We took the tram to the funicular and the funicular to the metro. Then we went a few stops to the one near the church. We tried to get our bearings when we surfaced (aka connect to GPS so it would tell us how to get to the church).  Once we thought we had it, we headed the direction it said only to run head first into a pair of missionaries.  They straightened us out and led us right to the church.<br/>
</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO0Etft1K6PNzjDROU9ll5DL74fR7Dpu3bG1PvVqnMjQ-l0G7r8OFCDl6ieB1_rZGk_apD19FY1l4Ph_siAg-6T5eZROehBpwWWew7EVeBdR1zqEo-IE5rxYGhyqBhG8L-uHQ/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO0Etft1K6PNzjDROU9ll5DL74fR7Dpu3bG1PvVqnMjQ-l0G7r8OFCDl6ieB1_rZGk_apD19FY1l4Ph_siAg-6T5eZROehBpwWWew7EVeBdR1zqEo-IE5rxYGhyqBhG8L-uHQ/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Becca brought Flavio to church to keep her company. </b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Church in Istanbul was like what I expected from the church in Paris. It was a small branch and probably a third of the attendees were missionaries. Everyone was really welcoming.  One of the missionaries gave a talk about teeter totters.  It had the kids riveted until he went into his analogy about trust.<br/>
<br/>A taxi picked us up outside the church at the end of the meeting and carried us to the airport. It was time for the next stage of our sabbatical, the visit to Ankara to spend time with my sister and her family. <br/>
</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-17775517516068499442015-07-30T11:27:00.001-07:002015-07-30T11:27:47.786-07:00Istanbul<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfIJ5QjX3z99Bjaja64Er9SrEyhAaM0szIKtZydOUbHkjXu6WUmaAM2kGmlB7KWFT-NXTgiMvwwePdfyt5AVDH4LXlwgSjTWsKeutZUMDBMtRVC6KMUsYj2gBp0ykOaDP8gel/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWfIJ5QjX3z99Bjaja64Er9SrEyhAaM0szIKtZydOUbHkjXu6WUmaAM2kGmlB7KWFT-NXTgiMvwwePdfyt5AVDH4LXlwgSjTWsKeutZUMDBMtRVC6KMUsYj2gBp0ykOaDP8gel/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Istanbul from the plane</b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>This is a big city. I thought Paris was big. Paris had a population of 2.2 million people. That made Portland and its 600k seem tiny.  Istanbul has a population of 14 million. I can't even wrap my head around that. The city seems to spread out in every direction, spilling from the core of Old Town out over endless hills and even across bodies of water.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAPpMRkQc0vZPk1QqzrKMjfmVF4unQnSRn_yGq-4NKWqYngs8ulX4WdQ7NFW1VGMw1whnaBl9dIMFCt-tOWZqAA9xDdK059eAIvKGCl5RTa7EXJpcdDFmarhUv71J2nWMn9Kp/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAPpMRkQc0vZPk1QqzrKMjfmVF4unQnSRn_yGq-4NKWqYngs8ulX4WdQ7NFW1VGMw1whnaBl9dIMFCt-tOWZqAA9xDdK059eAIvKGCl5RTa7EXJpcdDFmarhUv71J2nWMn9Kp/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjih94WmYQu2uBC6FYgX1kJGg-6AfVGRezZKBVEC6zaeZmtT1GTcKpdSuKzrFkQsZrg-ZhyphenhyphensLaZ9RJfGvU8jVER1afT5wSy63hFMTOSyb5b9BjGvmHhGtwk5Zn86bPcvk0EfkK5/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjih94WmYQu2uBC6FYgX1kJGg-6AfVGRezZKBVEC6zaeZmtT1GTcKpdSuKzrFkQsZrg-ZhyphenhyphensLaZ9RJfGvU8jVER1afT5wSy63hFMTOSyb5b9BjGvmHhGtwk5Zn86bPcvk0EfkK5/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Paris for us was the city of stairs. Our part of Istanbul was the neighborhood of stairs.  Our apartment was in Cihangar, not far from Taksim Square, described by The Independent as 'the symbolic focal point of the whole country.'  We had a great view of the Bosphorus Strait. We were right on the hillside overlooking the water. Getting anywhere from there required climbing. My fitbit had not yet logged my target number of steps the first day, but in two trips out to the market, I had already logged 27 staircases. I decided that people must be in excellent physical condition to live there. <br/>
<br/>Anna was not in excellent physical condition for most of our stay in Istanbul. After puking all over the airplane, she woke up the next day feeling week and headachey.  I got to stay home with her our first Istanbul day, enjoying the view from our windows and the fans blowing the cool apartment air over us. It was actually a nice break. I even took a little nap. Paris really wore me out.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qIFSuW6Ch50BofBeYwxXAPT2X41gbBGk7FzniQqblhiLuxPgA8n2Fcl_7qphZz1qAswDA1DmdxYB3PKqAJP2OyTlghWp8pfVG52_naK_lYg0ZTdS-9p3VxOpODATtcgKDVX5/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qIFSuW6Ch50BofBeYwxXAPT2X41gbBGk7FzniQqblhiLuxPgA8n2Fcl_7qphZz1qAswDA1DmdxYB3PKqAJP2OyTlghWp8pfVG52_naK_lYg0ZTdS-9p3VxOpODATtcgKDVX5/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>Anna remained under the weather the rest of our time in Istanbul. We dragged her out the second day. We visited Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque. We drank yummy lemonade with mint leaves. We didn't see everything on my list, but Anna was worn out by the end. <br/>
<br/>The weather in Istanbul was hot, like it had been in Paris, but it cooled off nicely at night. The first couple of nights we opened the windows and let the breeze cool the apartment. Unfortunately, the breeze brought in thirsty turkish mosquitoes, hungry for the blood of unsuspecting tourists. They would wake us in the night diving toward our ears and buzzing like miniature kamakaze airplanes.  They feasted on William, sleeping closest to the windows overlooking the Bosphorus. He must have the tastiest blood they'd ever found.  He had at least 50 bites after two nights.  We learned to keep the windows closed and rely on the little ac unit and fans to keep the temperature bearable.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><table class="tr-caption-container" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjChoOghgHU8eSLQZ-lznL9iAsGtGefsSvJc063eQCqFdA-tu6r8pbJ5ues0Qg8_Rl8jTwZ5Ngh7LNBJ1rjda2CpxaPYLdCg_rNHODCQkEh7QhTP0KdmKU1NJF7JwD2gNBYPZBL/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjChoOghgHU8eSLQZ-lznL9iAsGtGefsSvJc063eQCqFdA-tu6r8pbJ5ues0Qg8_Rl8jTwZ5Ngh7LNBJ1rjda2CpxaPYLdCg_rNHODCQkEh7QhTP0KdmKU1NJF7JwD2gNBYPZBL/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A prayer alcove in the tile section of the archaeology museum</b></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We ended up taking things pretty easy in Istanbul. With the mosquitoes keeping us awake the first two nights and Anna feeling sick, we didn't push too hard. We let William choose our second day of touring. He wanted the archaeology museum. We spent a good afternoon there, dodging construction to see the best of the displays.  We followed that up with a mini Bosphorus cruise that most of us enjoyed but made Anna seasick. I took her to the padded seats on the lower deck where the view wasn't as good and that helped a little. <br/>
<br/>So, that was it for our Istanbul touring adventure. We saw about half the things on my list, but Anna felt better by the time we left.  I was satisfied.</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-2167699348750070612015-07-26T11:42:00.001-07:002015-07-26T11:42:00.855-07:00Au Revoir, Paris<div class="blogaway-section"><p></p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVbkptckBl45dkqTd_sgrIetTi5-O2ZJgqh7yo0u63hlHtEDd4zepgmvU4i_ph0dz0e3Kr1VNnM0U_7o5QVJmNCUGHjQotc-MUT5ngbKUp7Dz1pPjLf0BRldE5kE6IHjjE4LP/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVbkptckBl45dkqTd_sgrIetTi5-O2ZJgqh7yo0u63hlHtEDd4zepgmvU4i_ph0dz0e3Kr1VNnM0U_7o5QVJmNCUGHjQotc-MUT5ngbKUp7Dz1pPjLf0BRldE5kE6IHjjE4LP/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>One last day in Paris and so many options of things to do.  We were all tired, exhausted by all those stairs we had climbed. We spent the morning doing laundry, getting ready to leave. Well, that's how I spent the morning. Kip and William raced each other to finish a Sci fi book Kip got from the library on the Kindle. Kip read it on his kindle app and William on the actual kindle. The girls played games on the phones and iPad.  None of them wanted to go out touristing. I let things go until lunchtime, when I dragged us all out to the fair at the Tuileries garden. We blew through the reserves of our cash riding carnival rides: bumper cars, air swing, a crazy scary ride called x factor, the rainbow, and finally the huge ferris wheel with a view of all of Paris from the top.<br/>
<br/>After the carnival experience I could hardly face the thought of what I wanted to do last - climb the Arc de Triomphe. It was the last item on our Paris museum pass with a large amount of stairs that we hadn't yet done. We could do the sewer tour, the Orsay, some science museums, the music museum, but the only thing with lots of stairs that we hadn't yet done was the Arc de Triomphe. And given that our Paris experience has developed an unintended theme of stairs, this seemed like the only appropriate way to end things.<br/>
<br/>Before heading there, we found ice cream and sat on the edge of a dormant fountain to enjoy it. It was just what I needed. I felt my blood sugar climb and energy level increase until the thought of 280 more stairs was a challenge I was eager to take.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzabLJBRpK8OsfXFQxYBitgHqfph3Ti3Y3hc8-Nu1m2G-Wbxb9OHxmurRyhp8HqKNAiIxIL867H59Ioh7tbMpH_a-s16MHmfcaAjcUAGmfc7ikNe6YJbkPuJzygCm2bOjJ8cK/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzabLJBRpK8OsfXFQxYBitgHqfph3Ti3Y3hc8-Nu1m2G-Wbxb9OHxmurRyhp8HqKNAiIxIL867H59Ioh7tbMpH_a-s16MHmfcaAjcUAGmfc7ikNe6YJbkPuJzygCm2bOjJ8cK/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The staircase at the Arc de Triomphe is a spiral one, of course. Paris wouldn't have it any other way! Only, this one doesn't have a solid center, a column of stone supporting the stairs on the inside. This meant that you could look over the railing in the middle and see all the way down. This totally freaked me out. Every time the kids peered over I imagined them falling to their death. I begged them to stay close to the wall as we climbed. <br/>
<br/>The smell in the staircase was very European. Hot summer day European. The smell of hot people was very strong and the staircase was very long.  The view at the top was amazing and I was glad we did it, our final Parisian stair climb. We took pictures of the sites below in every direction, like all the other dutiful tourists. We even got the obligatory selfie with the Eiffel Tower in the background. <br/>
<br/>Selfies are an odd sort of thing. You used to ask other people to take your camera and snap your photo if you wanted a picture of yourself at a famous site. Now, you hold the camera at arm's length and use the image on the screen to place yourself where you want against the backdrop of the site you are visiting. Or use a long stick attached to your camera for am even better angle. There's no need to involve the people around you at all. I almost offered to take the camera for a couple getting a selfie with the Eiffel Tower but I realized they were doing it the way they wanted, the popular way, so I left them to it and simply stepped out of the way. </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com3Kılıçali Paşa Mahallesi, Turkey41.0298138 28.9855577tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-18495990715675394612015-07-23T04:02:00.001-07:002015-07-23T04:02:02.736-07:00The worship of art<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXJTMloi7NG318GwlSmTI6RGIHMEYdbCTiXF1NUfutV3F8qgL5_vhyKnl96IqGA6RyaabmU2Db1tBLvIFXJyzvMQs2np3ROfAmvLciEu9ua-AYTGrgJVKIGK-l0CFZyNw2wim/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXJTMloi7NG318GwlSmTI6RGIHMEYdbCTiXF1NUfutV3F8qgL5_vhyKnl96IqGA6RyaabmU2Db1tBLvIFXJyzvMQs2np3ROfAmvLciEu9ua-AYTGrgJVKIGK-l0CFZyNw2wim/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>People go to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. She is one piece in thousands housed there, but she is the one people want to see. Everyone knows her and her half smile whether they care about art or not.<br/>
<br/>We met the missionaries on Monday for our Louvre exploration. They arrived just before it opened and were soon inside and on their way to see her. We got in half an hour after them, passing quickly through the line for people with tickets and museum passes. We went to join the Elders at her side. <br/>
<br/>You climb a grand staircase to reach her. The Winged Victory of Samothrace stands poised at the top, ready to launch into flight to escape the visiting throngs. Without her head, she is mercifully blind to the thousands of eyes that gaze upon her every day as they make their artistic pilgrimage to the Mona Lisa. <br/>
<br/>After proceeding through a room filled with hundreds of beautiful Italian religious paintings which they hardly notice, the throngs reach their goal. Lisa hangs on a wall all her own set in the middle of room 6. Behind her curtain of glass she watches unperturbed the press of art worshippers before her. They cannot cross the barrier or reach through the glass to disrupt her solitude. They admire her from a safe distance and leave her in peace.  We admired her from our spot behind the crowds, then turned to the rest of the art. </p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z2oNTQRi9Bo-LnJHaAIMqte0dHIs0PggemWkkIs8pbB4r7u6y_b9CmZSMqUiscvsZ9r6c9VrsG_9MQs7KljLrjI0c-e8zZl0vvy0bARdfszPUDVSHKVxpLQhHhXb_zORLeVR/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z2oNTQRi9Bo-LnJHaAIMqte0dHIs0PggemWkkIs8pbB4r7u6y_b9CmZSMqUiscvsZ9r6c9VrsG_9MQs7KljLrjI0c-e8zZl0vvy0bARdfszPUDVSHKVxpLQhHhXb_zORLeVR/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKGYtW0rCn1wDhenRx76QmPwFkxzkhohrL_xzdf4znaomO4E4PXnQT2bBxIMThC9hJqx2JTotHiJH9FS1El43bXav64hiR_zzNQWN12lxB_kqFWgdHdQr8Ag9fTZTxUkcs1K9/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKGYtW0rCn1wDhenRx76QmPwFkxzkhohrL_xzdf4znaomO4E4PXnQT2bBxIMThC9hJqx2JTotHiJH9FS1El43bXav64hiR_zzNQWN12lxB_kqFWgdHdQr8Ag9fTZTxUkcs1K9/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>The Louvre is huge and we didn't have a great plan of attack. We went to African, oceanic, and native American art. Then, we were stuck and had to figure out a way to get to the next area we wanted to see.  If you've been to the Louvre and seen the signs that say 'sens de visite' or something along those lines and have an arrow showing which way they suggest you go, you can imagine our path because it almost always went against the arrow. We saw mummies and statues, paintings of Mary and Jesus, some crazy African art, and some fancy furniture from the time of Napoleon.  Becca took my phone for a while and got a ton of pictures. Her goal was to take a photo of everything. Until I decided the battery had to be saved and took it away.</p></div><br/><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk_sXykLJdK8rEtWSSahGOb7VlO4A3ED78FSFQqXGPbLZ9F_4Cq2pIqxX8jrup_9ws7UiMSyaqy_wh1onaDziw1tL9eW4JZklSKJKCx_7nV8B8DKQAX5cSBUjadO7ohZdX5OSl/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk_sXykLJdK8rEtWSSahGOb7VlO4A3ED78FSFQqXGPbLZ9F_4Cq2pIqxX8jrup_9ws7UiMSyaqy_wh1onaDziw1tL9eW4JZklSKJKCx_7nV8B8DKQAX5cSBUjadO7ohZdX5OSl/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We spent the afternoon in the park, Tuileries, just in front of the Louvre.  While Kip and the kids enjoyed ice cream and crepes, I took a quick trip into L'Orangerie to see the Monet water lillies in person. They were beautiful. They were the object of my pilgrimage, the paint thick on the giant canvases, the colors vibrant.  This was where I went to connect with my spiritually artistic side. I walked through the first room of Monet murals, admiring each panel. I went through the second, viewing them from every angle. Then back to the first room for another look. I went then down below and found some beautiful things in the lower level. Before leaving, I returned one more time to the two rooms of Water Lillies. If the rest of the family had not been waiting, I would have sat down to soak them in and stayed there for hours. <br/>
<br/>Outside, the kids and Kip had grown restless. Frankly, I hadn't expected them to last as long as they had.  We found a play area with spinning toys and slides and the kids set to work befriending the other American tourists playing there. They were busy for over an hour while Kip and I relaxed in the shade.  It made a nice end to our day of museums. </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-77881417467121783072015-07-20T12:11:00.001-07:002015-07-21T03:03:26.016-07:00A Sunday in Paris<div class="blogaway-section">
I was really looking forward to church in Paris. I was picturing it like a ward in my mission, full of native French people and a couple missionaries. We would walk in and be the unique visiting Americans. Not quite what happened.<br />
<br />We went to a ward that meets right in the center of Paris. We got there a little early, but realized quickly that this particular ward gets a lot of visitors. They had sets of headphones English-speakers could borrow and one of the missionaries would translate what was being said into English. By the time we arrived, the Chapel was almost full and all the headsets were borrowed. We were offered option 2 (yes, they get enough American visitors to need an option 2). This was to sit in the overflow with a flat screen tv and the same translation playing. I set Kip and the kids up there and slipped back into the Chapel for the meeting. I went to the back row. As more and more people arrived, the seats filled up entirely.<br />
<br />I enjoyed the meeting. I was able to follow most of what was said. The theme was repentance and I really liked what a couple of the speakers said about it. <br />
<br />The kids were scared to stay. What if no one spoke English? I asked the family in front of me (visiting from Colorado) if they were staying, but their kids didn't want to, so they were heading home. After the meeting, most of the visitors went away, back to the work of being a tourist in Paris. We found some local members who directed us to the primary room and promised that for class time the kids would be split into French-speaking and English-speaking. I dragged the girls into the room clinging to each other, introduced them and ditched them. Kip and I were directed to an English-speaking Sunday School class and William went off to the class for young men. <br />
<br />I worried for the next hour and a half that my kids were miserable. I shouldn't have. They all appeared at the end of the meeting with big smiles on their faces having made new friends and gotten cookies and rice Krispy treats. Best Sunday ever.<br />
<br />We spent a lot of the time after church observing the 'day of rest' concept of the Sabbath. After 6 days of touristing, we were exhausted. Kip and I more so than the kids, who relaxed for maybe an hour, then created increasingly noisy games involving dropping things out their windows and going to the lobby the retrieve them. </div>
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Knowing the neighbors would eventually kick us out, we preemptively took the kids to Montmartre. We figured visiting a basilica was a decent tourist activity for a Sunday. And because we were exhausted, we opted to take the metro there instead of walking up from our apartment. What we didn't realize is that the metro doesn't go up the hill. It drops you off deep underground. Then, you can wait in line for an elevator (reminiscent of the Washington park elevator from the MAX in Portland), or climb the stairs. We hate lines. And we weren't thinking clearly enough to realize that if there was an elevator, the climb most likely was a big one. We went up it. It's a spiral staircase, of course, and it goes on and on and on. To make things a little nicer, the outer wall is decorated with some super nice murals. There's no graffiti on them. I think graffiti artists don't want to climb those stairs.<br />
<br />We surfaced at Les Abesses and climbed the rest of the way to Sacre Coeur above ground. We went through the basilica on a speed tour, the kind that's supposed to keep the kids from having time to get restless. But we were stopped as we made the final turn by the arrival of the clergy and the start of the 6pm services. I thought it was neat to be at Sacre Coeur during part of a service. The singing, provided by a local nun, was beautiful. The resonance of the hall was amazing.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPCAwa9Jjs7YIduCkuHYdOdMhkEajE1REtow4jq-NBaUopI9l0-ldnG0WSm4aR5xkE1pxnFY2OxyLnx5uhBEQIm0e1gC2lg5Mu8tCIPT2kqH0qMlcQJZ8xdunzp1BOrk_h1SP/s1600/20150719_175013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPCAwa9Jjs7YIduCkuHYdOdMhkEajE1REtow4jq-NBaUopI9l0-ldnG0WSm4aR5xkE1pxnFY2OxyLnx5uhBEQIm0e1gC2lg5Mu8tCIPT2kqH0qMlcQJZ8xdunzp1BOrk_h1SP/s320/20150719_175013.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Kip, William and Anna decided when we got out that they wanted to climb the tower. Becca heard that there were 300 steps and opted to skip it. She and I got to pass the time looking at souvenir shops and telling the portrait artists 'non merci' when they asked if they could sketch Becca for me.<br />
<br />So our tour of Parisian staircases continued. I'm a little ashamed that I missed out on 300 steps Sunday night, but I will survive without them. Perhaps I can get some more before we leave. </div>
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<a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Posted via Blogaway</span></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-81162669417204096172015-07-20T12:01:00.001-07:002015-07-21T03:20:47.318-07:00Touring without a line<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKAoQbd50LPBSbh-t27CQbl7wnArxaqiZrm7f0109n99FtL2Df1w9mAayduUPDUbqoLC3XO0JNVhK0KGVSJpWc8cWs76K1nqzCyXpWY6WarxVvi8tIIH7LYEQwB6ZN_eQx9OQW/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKAoQbd50LPBSbh-t27CQbl7wnArxaqiZrm7f0109n99FtL2Df1w9mAayduUPDUbqoLC3XO0JNVhK0KGVSJpWc8cWs76K1nqzCyXpWY6WarxVvi8tIIH7LYEQwB6ZN_eQx9OQW/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DsrZ0q_iIayXVFxDL8hNOAj19tYUqSGpDi_ZNAiBGFdw2dj_p252YeJPyP1Viexr_SCHOZi_-Y3uMR6YOYuOoCyKQu04tkWsFyk3yMubei6RzNADimUQByoXNHx9_3F7m_yG/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0DsrZ0q_iIayXVFxDL8hNOAj19tYUqSGpDi_ZNAiBGFdw2dj_p252YeJPyP1Viexr_SCHOZi_-Y3uMR6YOYuOoCyKQu04tkWsFyk3yMubei6RzNADimUQByoXNHx9_3F7m_yG/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI1UZYV5Gn4Sf98lv-3BKwLzgJLPdGJZcwNKV5BuDsV1KYrlzpGnlF45cCiA1eIzrPp9fiRg1qSN1xiclNYl2JuKW2j6wkLhde696sKX3cJhSE_f51toQnJf6urM8A8i-1We7X/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI1UZYV5Gn4Sf98lv-3BKwLzgJLPdGJZcwNKV5BuDsV1KYrlzpGnlF45cCiA1eIzrPp9fiRg1qSN1xiclNYl2JuKW2j6wkLhde696sKX3cJhSE_f51toQnJf6urM8A8i-1We7X/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>We were amazing at Versailles. We did it all and never once had to stand in line. Well, except for the bathrooms a couple of times. We let everyone sleep in and arrived around 11:30. The line in front of the palace was huge, we heard rumors it would take 2 hours just to get in. But we walked right past it and went instead to the gardens. It was Saturday, fountain day, so we actually had to pay to see the gardens which otherwise would have been free. And here's where we were a little less amazing. The water show goes from 11-12 and we got in at 11:50.  I'm pretty sure there was another afternoon show, but we missed that, too. We did find one fountain as we wandered the gardens that was playing music and shooting water. It was nice to sit and watch it and relax before continuing our exploration under the hot sun.<br/><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-saY-3-Dvmj4/Va4XbEmrsaI/AAAAAAAAGZw/o_Bw03Sq504/s1600/20150718_115924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-saY-3-Dvmj4/Va4XbEmrsaI/AAAAAAAAGZw/o_Bw03Sq504/s320/20150718_115924.jpg" /></a></div>
<br/>We worked our way back through the gardens to the Trianon, the smaller palaces and domain of the queen. Our favorite part was the hamlet Marie Antoinette built, her little play village where she would dress up as a peasant (a very clean and well-dressed peasant) and 'work' on her farm. It was all very pretty. The kids especially liked the bunnies and the goat that got its head stuck in its fence. We tried to push its head back through but it just pushed back harder so we had to give up. <br/>
<br/>We got back to the main palace after 5 hours of exploring (including a long fancy lunch break fit for royalty).  With just an hour before closing, there was no line. Kip and Anna had seen enough and chose to find a monoprix and buy snacks. William and Becca joined me to do a super-speed walk-through of the palace of Versailles because I couldn't imaging going there without going inside. It was probably the fastest walk-through ever. They were starting to close areas off for the night. We did the whole loop in 30 minutes, at least the party of the loop they were still allowing people to see. I went through my Rick Steves guidebook afterwards and realized how much we missed. But we did see the famous hall of mirrors from Becca's 'Paris for Kids' book, so she was satisfied. And I was insanely proud of us for going to Versailles and seeing enough to make us all happy without having to stand for hours in the hot sun.</p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-46151718414177567862015-07-18T13:47:00.001-07:002015-07-18T13:47:14.114-07:00Funny pic<div style="text-align: center; padding: 5px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCB1W4pVlJK4g4ujXWK5bCsEB4XnVKr_hE6n3E-CzEjkTO9g6ckVlqKx_lpDqonCg1sK-7XgztstKlzOBPWv3TfRllZtCy_qYwlOcUKuDFdEHrS6hFM-z54rPXJiSNQUY_9nbg/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCB1W4pVlJK4g4ujXWK5bCsEB4XnVKr_hE6n3E-CzEjkTO9g6ckVlqKx_lpDqonCg1sK-7XgztstKlzOBPWv3TfRllZtCy_qYwlOcUKuDFdEHrS6hFM-z54rPXJiSNQUY_9nbg/ cursor: pointer;" width="320px" style="border: 1px solid; border-radius: 2px;padding: 5px; max-width: 320px " /></a></div><div class="blogaway-section"><p>No one would guess this picture was photoshopped, would they? </p></div><br/><div class="blogaway-signature"><br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog"><font size="2">Posted via Blogaway</font></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-72250735284935840772015-07-17T23:27:00.001-07:002015-07-17T23:32:21.583-07:00Cool picture<div class="blogaway-section"><p>I'm having trouble getting pictures where I want them. Here's one that should have been in the last post. <br/>
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<br/>Someone had a lot of time, and bones, on their hands. <br/><br/><br/>
<br/><a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beanie.blog&referrer=utm_source%3Dutm_link_blog">Posted via Blogaway</a><br/></p></div><br/>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-47534591832785144342015-07-17T14:52:00.000-07:002015-07-18T13:31:27.314-07:00The city of what? <div class="blogaway-section"><p>I know that Paris is often called the city of love.  After 5 days here, I would suggest some other names for it.  I would call it the city of stairs. We climbed the Eiffel Tower today and Notre Dame yesterday.  That's almost 1,000 steps.  Not to mention that our flat is on the 5th floor (European 5th floor with ground floor being 0). Sometimes we take the stairs instead of squishing into the tiny box of an elevator. It says it can take three people but it's crowded with me and the girls.  I wouldn't try it with three adults.  But we really appreciate it with groceries.<br/>
<br/>I would also call Paris the city of lines.  It took us almost 3 hours to get into the Catacombs Wednesday morning.  On Thursday I enjoyed listening to a jazz-flute-playing street musician for at least 30 minutes while waiting in a short line for a slow public toilet.  Luckily, that cut my wait for the Notre Dame staircase down to about half an hour.  We went as early as we could manage to the Eiffel Tower today.  It was probably not even 8 am when we left, which is a miracle for us.  We got in line before they opened at 9 and had our tickets by 9:30.  Really, that wasn't that bad.  We considered buying elevator tickets to the very top after climbing our 700 steps to floor 2, but there was a line there.  We couldn't stomach another line, so we convinced the kids that two scoops of ice cream were a better option.<br/>
<br/>I would also call Paris the city with more to see than you can possibly see in 9 days.  When I look at what we've done so far of the traditional touristy things one is supposed to do in Paris, I feel like a bit of an underachiever.  And yet I come home to my 9th arrondissement flat every night with sore feet, tired legs, a bit of a sunburn, and complete physical exhaustion.<br/>
<br/>What have we done so far?  It doesn't seem like much.  We stood beneath the Arc de Triomphe but did not get to climb it.  We went to the Catacombs and enjoyed wandering among the underground piles of artistically-stacked bones.  We went up the Montparnasse Tower for it's view of Paris.  We went to the Eiffel Tower, through the Army Museum and Napoleon's Tomb.  We did some less-trendy Parisian activities.  We went to a small museum near our flat and an aquarium where we had hoped to see the sharks get fed.  We had the time wrong and were too late. <br/>
<br/>The Catacombs were a lot of fun on Wednesday morning. Who wouldn't like wandering through dimly-lit, dripping, underground tunnels stacked with the bones of Parisians who died long ago?  One of our Beaverton neighbors is here on his mission.  He and another Elder Smith met us in the line to enter the Catacombs.  We decided to designate them Elder Smith-of-the-East and Elder Smith-of-the-West, our neighbor, of course, being the one of the west.  To add to the fun, we ended up in line directly in front of two other tourist parties from Portland.  This made the 2 1/2 hour line time much more bearable.  The line barely seemed to move, leaving us exposed to the direct torture of the sun as it climbed toward it's peak in the sky for far longer than I liked.  It felt like a miracle when we finally reached the corner where the entrance was in sight and the trees blessed us with their shade.  When our snacks and water ran out long before we reached that shade, Kip took some Euros and went in search of a market.  He came back with water and fresh fruit and at least one of the people behind us followed his lead.  As we rounded the corner near the entrance, I spotted a crepe stand across the street.  I slipped out of line to go over, getting the first two crepes of the day - with nutella and whipped cream, of course.  I rushed the piping hot treats back to the line, where the rest of the family was just disappearing inside to buy tickets.  I thought when the security guy checked my bag that he would say no food, but he waved me and my steaming chocolate goodies inside.<br/>
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<br/>Becca and Anna were both nervous about the Catacombs.  We dragged them down the winding staircase to the underground anyway, like any good parent would, right?  And soon we had them laughing at countless bad jokes, such as Elder Smith-of-the-West's offer to give 10 euros to anyone who found a funny bone.  At the end, Becca said her favorite part was the funny things we were saying.  Walking through the remains of thousands of dead people just brings out the joker in some of us.  My favorite part of the Catacombs were some of the poems.  There were some admittedly  depressing ones, and others that were kind of nice.  I especially liked the one asking "where is death?" She has barely arrived when she is already gone.<br/>
<br/>Going to the Montparnasse Tower wasn't so much something we desperately wanted to do as it was something close to the Catacombs that we could do before riding the metro home.  We paid for tickets up to floor 56 (no stairs on that part, but 3 flights later on to reach the roof) and enjoyed the view of Paris.  The only really notable part was the photograph they took of us.  They get you as you come off the elevator, feeding the tourists through a maze to a green screen where they take your picture and hand you a card. Your family photo is then digitally added to various views of Paris.  Usually, I have no interest in this kind of souvenir.  It feels like cheating, cutting and pasting myself into scenes I wasn't actually a part of.  But in this case, I loved it.  I loved it because William just happened to be wearing a green t-shirt.  Where his shirt would have been in the potos, instead there was a shirt-shaped hole showing the fake Parisian scene with William's head floating above it. I couldn't pass it up.  I still laugh just thinking of it.<br/>
<br/>I had promised Becca that if she learned to ride a bike, we would ride bikes in Paris.  Thursday was the day.  We did a bike tour.  And I realized that although Becca does great biking around the streets of our Beaverton neighborhood, that is very different from biking the streets of the capital of France in tourist season.  Maybe this is another time we could have prepared a little better.  We spent almost 4 hours biking around Paris and learned a lot about it's history and rode past several of the famous sites.  I was relieved that no one was run over, of my children or by my children.<br/>
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<br/>It was HOT on Thursday.  The high was around 95. By the time we finished our bike ride, we were melting.  Knowing the apartment would be just as hot gave us the courage to go back to Ile de la Cité.  I dragged the family to Notre Dame and realized just how different it is to tour Europe with adults in a touring orchestra from traveling it with kids.  We sat in the cool dimness of the interior of Notre Dame and I reviewed the Rick Steves guide, fascinated by the beauty surrounding me.  The kids were bored stiff.  Kip was bored, too, but on orchestra tours, that just meant that he would slip outside, find a cafe and sit and wait for me.  We would both often end up sitting for hours with friends at cafes on our European orchestra tours, drinking something cold and talking.  This doesn't happen with kids.  If we try to sit and relax in a cafe, after about 10 minutes, the kids are trying to kill each other.  If I drag them into a church, they ask millions of questions and get frustrated that I don't know the answers.  Then, they get bored and start fighting.  I went through the interior of Notre Dame much more quickly than I had intended.  Then, we headed for the line to the stairs.<br/>
<br/>All those steps (255 of them) calmed the kids down a little.  They didn't fight too much at the top.  The sun kindly even went behind a cloud when we were on the very top.  Then, back on the ground it rained.  I got to sing my "I love Paris in the rain" song while we ate ice cream beside the cathedral.<br/>
<br/>On the advice of our bike tour guide, we went to the Eiffel Tower early. Not having prepurchased tickets, we opted to simple climb the stairs.  Becca's book 'the kids guide to Paris' suggests that it is 704 steps from the ground to the second floor.  We did them all, but my legs were burning. We were lucky with perfect stair-climbing weather. It was overcast and so cold this morning that I purchased a hot chocolate when the kids got their ice cream pn the second floor.  I developed a new theory, too.  When we ordered ice cream after getting out of Notre Dame, we got little tiny bowls with just enough ice cream.  When I ordered on the Eiffel Tower, the tiny bowls were the same but the amount of ice cream was dramatically increased.  My only guess was that on the Tower, I ordered completely in French.  Maybe that got you more ice cream?<br/>
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<br/>Down from the tower we went to the Army Museum.  William and Becca did something amazing there, suddenly discovering a common interest and enjoying each others' company.  They were enamored with the weapons of the middle ages.  The suits of armor, swords, sheilds, and spears were fascinating to them both.  They both even enjoyed a movie about training for World War I.  Kip and Anna went off without us to another part of the museum and when we met for our picnic told us we had to see the room of relief maps.  Of course, it was on the 4th floor.  We had to take 5 flights of stairs.  And this was after the 700 steps of the Eiffel Tower.  I'm starting to hate stairs.  Although, they make justifying one more patisserie just a little bit easier.  I will return to Oregon with stronger legs and a bigger belly than I had on departure.<br/>
<br/>People here may be in love, but for me, so far Paris is the city of stairs.  And people.  And waiting and waiting to see someplace beautiful. Or to use a restroom, which is definitely not beautiful.  But so far it has been a lot of fun.<br/></p></div><br/>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-26792910525480914282015-07-15T14:40:00.000-07:002015-07-15T14:50:54.837-07:00Bastille Day!<div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
What a difference a day makes. I woke up around <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">7:00</a> feeling good, refreshed from a full night of sleep and ready to take on a day of enjoying Paris.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We took things slow in the morning. I made a shopping list and went to Monoprix. We got the basics, a baguette, cheese, pasta and sauce, and ice cream. We had to go home and enjoy the bagel with cheese and Nutella before heading off on our next activity. With the fireworks near the Eiffel Tower <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">tonight</a>, we knew the city would be crazy. We were all a little nervous about riding the metro after twice getting separated yesterday. We finally gathered our courage and headed on the metro to the Arc de Triumph. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="text-align: start;">We found when we got there that we couldn't buy tickets and climb to the top. The ticket office was closed until </span><a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" style="text-align: start;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">5:30</a><span style="text-align: start;">. We came up from under the street and took a few pictures before a group of official-looking people with whistles told us all to leave. The confused mass of tourists were slow to move, but as much as they did move, the gendarmes (police) put barricades to block their return. We were shooed from under the arc and down the stairs, herded like unwilling and dim-witted cattle back to the central area underneath the street. The whistle-blowing officials didn't follow immediately, so we paused to consider our next move. Our Break was cut short by the arrival ofa group of the tourist-herders from above. People started to move, but not very quickly. One of the women with a whistle appeared on the steps and blew it loud enough to let people know she meant business. With our ears still ringing from her whistle, she yelled for us to get out in the kind of voice that people use when there is not an option for debate. The mass of holiday tourists admitted defeat and headed to the exit tunnels. I exchanged a smile with one of the policemen as we passed. The woman had put us all in our place.</span></span></div>
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Back above ground we decided to head to a lesser-known museum between the Champs Elysée and our apartment. We walked to it, considering stopping at another cafe for lunch. The prices at the ones we looked at were a little high, so we opted to have a picnic. We stopped at another Monoprix and let everyone choose a main course and a drink. We chose sushi, a sandwich, salads, sprite, orangina, fruit, chips, and cookies. We ate it on a bench outside the shop. It was probably one of the best meals we've had so far in France, and the cheapest. Although, in true Becca fashion, she wasn't satisfied by what she chose and ate almost nothing yet again. After our street-side picnic we went into the Jacquemart-André museum. It's a beautiful chateau which the owners filled with art to the point that after they died the home was turned into a museum. It was a good way to start the museum part of our trip. It was not very large, less than 15 rooms of art to view.</div>
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And we were surprised to discover that they have a kid zone. There were some fancy costumes for the kids to try on and pose for photos. There were easels with big sheets of paper and packs of pastels. There were coloring pages of scenes from the art in the building that looked very much like the ones we used in art lit for the project on David. The kids could sit at a table and color them with markers, crayons, or watercolor and pastel pencils. There was also a set of building blocks that looked like thin Jenga pieces. We were all thrilled. The girls settled in with coloring pages. Kip took an easel. There were no other kids there and with everyone else in Paris heading toward the Eiffel Tower already, the museum was very quiet. William took some time to realize that we were going to be there a while, then took another easel for himself. I joined the girls coloring and chatting with the girl in charge of the area. Eventually, I left the kids and Kip and went to enjoy the museum. There were some beautiful things. I especially liked some of the furniture.</span></span></div>
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We opted that night to go watch fireworks from a park in eastern Paris, Belleville. Everything we read or heard said to get there very early and get a place. We did, bringing another baguette picnic and card games. I was tired and chose to lay back and enjoy the view of the evening sky. The clouds were billowy and the sky was a soft blue. We had set ourselves on the edge of the flower garden and the flowers waved in the breeze just above me.</span></span><br>
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Before the sun had set, a park employee with a whistle came down the walkway announcing that the park was closing and we all had to leave. Most people got up to go. The large group of Parisians next to me didn't budge. I asked them if we had to go. They said yes, probably, but made no move to do so. I waited until the park employee came a second time and Kip and the kids returned from the play area, then we packed up and headed out. We ended up taking the metro home. It was good to do before the post-firework-madness. And we got home just in time to watch the fireworks on TV. It was fun to see it with the music and in the comfort of my apartment. Of course, I kept falling asleep. I thought it was better than watching standing outside with only a partial distant view of the Eiffel Tower.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-52451271400915861022015-07-15T12:14:00.000-07:002015-07-15T14:47:45.253-07:00Paris - the arrival<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Our first day in France was not a entirely wonderful. In fact, I spent a lot of the day wondering if it had been a really bad choice to come here.</span></div>
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I get nervous when I travel, uncomfortable. I like to rely on Kip to figure out what needs to be done to get us where we need to be. But this time, we were in France and I actually speak French, or I did almost 20 years ago. I felt a lot of pressure to be able to figure out everything we needed to do and I was afraid my language skills would fail me after such a long time of disuse. So, on arrival here in Paris I was tense and insecure about my ability to succeed in getting us settled comfortably in our new place. I was afraid I would fail miserably and the whole family would look at me and think that I had let them down. I was scared. On top of that insecurity, I was exhausted. I hardly slept at home the two nights before we came. I hardly slept on the airplane. Exhaustion frequently brings depression. Things were pretty emotionally dark Monday.</div>
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We arrived at 8 am but couldn't check into our apartment until 2. Thanks to some good internet searching, we had found a train station fairly near our place with luggage lockers. We got to the airport, bought our museum pass and train ticket from the tourist information location in the airport (thank you, Rick Steves), and rode to our train station, Gare du Nord. <br>
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We then had to hunt down the lockers. We stopped several security people and got directions, in English even, but it was like they were speaking a different language. What they said made perfect sense as they said it and motioned where to go, but then you went there and found nothing that looked lockerish. We went up stairs, down other stairs, through masses of people that seemed to know where they were going and then to other stairs. I started to despair, thinking maybe we should skip the lockers and just go throw ourselves on the mercy of our apartment owner. In retrospect, I think that would have been a good choice. Instead, by some miracle, we finally stumbled upon the lockers. We stuffed our things inside and went off to find food and wander until we could check in.</div>
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After lunch things got even more tense. Kip wanted to see the Seine, so we figured out what metro lines to use and bought a pack of tickets. The metro system in Paris is like a maze. The lines run above and below each other and the stations involve climbing up and down stairs and wandering in tunnels that snake around below the streets of the city. I get completely turned around searching for the trains. And we learned the hard way that when they say the train stops for only 15 seconds it is really true. The first metro ride took us to a point where we had to change to another train. We were all enjoying ourselves when suddenly it was time to get off. Kip, Anna and William rushed for the door but Becca and I got cut off by an African woman with rolling luggage. I almost jumped her suitcase, but realized that Becca wouldn't make it. And I would undoubtably have hurt someone in the process. Becca and I stepped back and watched the doors close with Kip and the others on the other side. I stayed completely calm, telling Becca what fun it was to get to go an extra stop and then come back to join the others. And It really wasn't that bad. We learned our lesson. Make sure you get right by the door before reaching your stop.</div>
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Unfortunately, that wasn't the only metro lesson for the day. At a later stop, thronged with people, we couldn't get on quite fast enough. I pushed through the door at the last second as it closed then turned to see William still outside looking shocked as the doors closed between us. We yelled at him to stay right there. An English woman with a group of teenage girls remarked that we had the same protocol she does. I laughed and admitted that this was our second time getting split up in one day. She remarked that in 20 years she'd never lost a student. Suddenly, I didn't like her so much anymore.</div>
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After those two experiences, I got pretty nervous about riding the metro. I was physically exhausted from traveling for over 24 hours and then I'd been separated from family members twice while riding. I was scared every time we got on or off after that, the exhaustion and fear combining to make me nauseous. I started to think that maybe we should consider walking more.</div>
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The tension of the adventure wasn't helped by the cafe employee who tried to cheat me that afternoon near the Louvre. We stopped in, exhausted and needing restrooms. We ordered drinks and ice cream for everyone. Later, when we went to pay, he asked if I had smaller money than what I had handed him. I said yes and handed it over. Then he kept it all and gave me change for the small bill. I called him on it, but when he asked how much he owed me I got flustered and couldn't figure it out. He got sick of waiting for me to figure it out and actually told me how much he thought he still owed me. I think it was right, too. But I felt a mixture of negative emotions from the experience. I felt stupid because I confronted him but did it in a weak and wimpy manor. I felt betrayed. I tried to speak French and was very friendly to the people at the cafe and he tried to take advantage of me.</div>
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When we finally reached the apartment that evening, my perception of it was colored by the darkness of my mood. It wasn't a bad place, but it was not fancy. Paris was crowded, the metro was dangerous, cafe owners were unscrupulous, and our apartment was a little worn. William mentioned that he couldn't wait to get to our villa we're renting on the mediterranean coast of Turkey and I felt the same. It had been a rough day and I wasn't sure how well Paris was going to treat us. We crashed into our beds that night hoping the next day would be a better one.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-66018100192558150872015-07-13T22:40:00.001-07:002015-07-13T23:08:53.026-07:00Flying to France - July 12-13, 2015<div>I<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> didn't think the kids would go to sleep last night. I didn't think that I could, either. But we did. We all slept just fine. No one stayed awake from worry or excitement. Of course, I stayed up way too late getting the last things done. I mopped the kitchen. I changed the sheets on our bed. I did some things that might not have been entirely necessary, but I thought they would make coming home a little nicer 5 weeks from now.</span></div>
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Getting to bed after midnight made getting up at 4am feel pretty miserable. I moaned to Kip that I had changed my mind. Suddenly it sounded like an excellent idea for us all to just go back to sleep and let the rest of the world go on without us. Let those other crazy people scheduled to fly from Portland to Vancouver at 7am on a Sunday morning doit without us. They would appreciate the extra seats. We could spend the next 5 weeks quietly at home pretending we weren't there and no one would have to know. But the time and effort we've put into planning this adventure got me out of my cozy bed and into,the shower and before we knew it we were in the airport shuttle and on our way.<br>
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PDX was surprisingly busy on a Sunday morning at 5am. Things moved quickly and we had no trouble getting to our gate. We bought breakfast snacks for everyone and boarded a little propeller plain and left the country. As we flew over Washington, the clouds below us were in two white cottony layers. The top layer looked soft and welcoming, like puffy billows you could snuggle down into. Like if you could step out the window, you would float down and land in cozy softness. In some areas the top layer thinned and opened ti reveal a second lower layer, equally fluffy and billowy. As we continued, a third layer appeared, above the others, almost even with the windows. They were thin and wispy, like the great giants of the sky had pulled them off the lower layers, stretched them thin, and released them to float just above the rest.</div>
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We flew to Paris in 3 legs on Air Canada. We went to Vancouver first, then across Canada to Toronto, and finally from Toronto to Paris. That last flight was about 7 hours, taking off in the </div>
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<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Becca spent at least 3 hours of the flight sleeping with her head on my lap. I spent those hours trying very hard to get comfortable without being able to do much more than shifting my legs from the right side of my seat to the left. I was not entirely successful. It was a relief to see the color start to tint the sky outside the airplane window as the plane headed toward the rising sun. I knew with the coming of the light that my freedom was coming, too. It's amazing how wonderful it feels to stand and walk and stretch your legs after hours in a tight, confined space. The sun rose and the plane came down to the runway at Charles de Gaule. We gathered our things and started the next stage of our adventure.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-56906767011731653912015-07-10T10:36:00.000-07:002015-07-10T10:36:12.533-07:00The Next Killpack AdventureWe're getting ready for the next Killpack adventure. 5 weeks in Paris and Turkey. Intel changed their Sabbatical program to allow for 4-week sabbaticals every 4 years and we opted to take that. I felt like a smaller trip more frequently would work better for our family. So, I will be updating things here with details of where we are and what we're doing, and who is trying to drive whom nuts on the way. Stay tuned! It should be a lot of fun for all of us!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-13064133143016838092014-07-10T20:25:00.000-07:002014-07-10T20:27:21.425-07:00Alaska 2014 - Eklutna LakeJuly 2<br />
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Chad had the day off July 2nd and joined us for a Kayaking adventure on Eklutna Lake. It's a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains. We rented 3 Kayaks for $35 a piece and headed out on the water in pairs or threesomes.</div>
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I stayed behind the first time and watched the kiddos who didn't want to go or couldn't fit in the first round. Cooper liked to try out all the seats of the Kayaks on the shore.</div>
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Later, I swapped Grandma to go out with William. After that I took Anna for a little while. We all had a wonderful time.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-85322178027625885862014-07-10T20:01:00.003-07:002014-07-10T20:14:10.836-07:00Alaska 2014 - Eagle River Nature Center<div>
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July 1<br />
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Kip thought this would be a good summer to visit Alaska. If you're wanting to go, doing it when you have family living there makes it more affordable and gives you an inside connection when choosing touristy activities. So we flew up June 30 and spent the Independence day week with Chad and Angie.</div>
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There's a nature park not far from Chad and Angie's. We dragged the kids out there in the drizzling rain Tuesday afternoon. It was an absolutely beautiful place. The wildflowers in this state are amazing! I couldn't keep from taking picture after picture.</div>
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It was a great place for a walk.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04132991311380351112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12515979.post-36697182632428367692014-05-04T10:06:00.000-07:002014-05-04T10:11:07.072-07:00Oregon Arts Orchestra - Day 10 Milan September 3<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: 'Architect\'s Daughter'; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">
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Our final day in Italy. I felt a little emotional about that. Becca was upset on Sunday about me being away and I had really wanted to talk with her Monday but the kids were in the spa at Grammy's house when we called. They didn't come out just for a phone call from Mom. I was starting to feel like maybe it was time to go home. But at the same time, this has been a wonderful experience. Each concert was better than the last. We got to make new friends and increased our friendship with some old ones. I was emotional. And I was getting sick. On Monday in Venice/Burano, I kept feeling like the world was moving. Whenever we sat still, I felt like I was still on the water, the ground rocking gently beneath me. By the end of Monday evening I had a migraine. My medicine helped and I felt much better Tuesday morning, but as we made our 4-hour bus ride to Milan, I started to sneeze and realized my throat was hurting. I hoped it was just allergies.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">We had a very short walking tour of Milan focusing on the Duomo...</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">and La Scala. </span></div>
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I was worn out. I didn't get much out of the tour. <br />
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We had time to relax at the hotel that afternoon and Kip wanted to get travel snacks and more chocolate (of course!). I thought it would be nice to see a little more of the area, the less-touristy part, so we went off. We just kind of walked around after finding that the shop his map program had taken us to was not what we needed. And suddenly I saw a Carrefour, just like on my mission. If I hadn't lived in France I would never have recognized it. The windows are striped and mostly blocked so you can't see inside, but I knew the logo and name and knew it meant groceries. We got our chocolate and snacks at non-tourist prices. Although, regular Milan prices probably aren't something to brag about.</div>
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We had our farewell dinner at a restaurant that took quite a while to get to. Apparently traffic in Milan is not a pleasant thing. The staff made sure we knew that most of the menu was already gluten free and that there were just a few things they had done for the three of us with that particular sensitivity. We had milanese risotto, which tastes a lot like mac n cheese but with large rice pieces instead of noodles. The main course was pork on polenta with mushrooms and potatoes. For dessert, most of the group had apple cake (complete with a sparkler-style candle and happy birthday chorus for Emily). The GFers had flan. I was starting to feel pretty crummy, so I didn't eat all that much. I think I have a cold.<br />
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The dinner ended with a speech by Cindy and applause for all the people who put so much effort into this trip. It was a good tour. We got a few last pictures and headed for the hotel. After some final packing and a failed attempt to Skype the kids (poor wifi strength and kids in spa) we went to bed a little early.</div>
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