around the world

Up is Down: Sailing the Nile

Posted January 16, 2020 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Up is Down: Sailing the Nile

Egypt is confusing. The Nile runs north, so up (going North on the map) is down (sailing with the river’s current). Upper Egypt is down South. Lower Egypt is up North.

A satellite image of Egypt clearly shows the Nile valley flowing all the way through the country until it empties into the Mediterranean. Orange fills the map–the Sahara, the world’s biggest desert. And the Nile, the world’s longest river, is a green stem cutting through Egypt. At the top, the fertile delta fans out like a papyrus leaf.

The Nile (and her two major tributaries the White Nile and Blue Nile) stretches 4,130 miles through eleven African countries: Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Kenya, Ethiopia, Eritrea, South Sudan, Sudan, and Egypt. And the Nile shows up in the Bible as the setting for Moses, Joseph, plagues, and the exodus. To touch the water of the Nile is to touch ancient history and the African lands so far away.

felucca on the nile river egypt — A felucca on the Nile. Felucca sails are designed for sailing against, and with, the wind.

The Felucca

Old etchings and photos of the Nile almost always show the little sailboats with the large triangular sails…feluccas. A boat seemingly from another era, ancient times.

We boarded a felucca in Aswan for a day of sailing the Nile. We’d also spend the night on “The Jewel of the Nile”. Our small boat held 8 passengers and 2 crew. A platform of colorful kilim bed cushions filled the platform and our suitcases were filed under. A tarp overhead made it impossible to stand up (good idea to stay seated anyway), and it shielded us from the hot Egyptian sun. Shoes off and into a plastic laundry basket, our important items placed down the center line of the boat, and we pushed off.

Felucca passing under bridge, folding mast — Today’s feluccas have folding masts so they can duck under bridges over the Nile. This is the New Aswan City Bridge.

Sailing on the Nile: Life in another time

I was ready for the quiet. Observing life on the green banks. Birds, horses, cows, kids, farms…does life along the Nile look much the same now as it did 3,000 years ago? The river is wide and clean. Slow moving.

Cows in the Nile — Cows cool off in the Nile River.

Felucca in the Nile — A felucca passes on the Nile.

A breeze. The sun. The smell of water. Distant sounds of people and animals along the banks. And some restless and bored people on board who chattered and stayed on their phones for much of the ride.

We stopped for lunch and some swam. A sandy beach, a stray dog. I watched a man so very carefully spreading a towel on the beach and displaying his jewelry and Egyptian knick-knacks for sale. Back on the boat, we settled in again… this time with the quiet. Writing, sketching, napping, watching life go by. Absorbing the time.

Egypt banks of the Nile docking — Pulling in the sailboat to dock along the banks of the Nile River.

Stray dog along the Nile River — We stopped sailing for lunch and swimming. This little one came to our boat and accepted Oreo snacks.

Tea on the Nile River felucca — Tea for two on the felucca….sailing quietly down the Nile.

Docked for the Night

The sunset. Golden. After, the Nile horizon turned soft pink and periwinkle. At last, the stars. Black night, dark water, lights on the opposite shore. Large boats–floating hotels–cruised by.

We docked, alongside a couple of other feluccas of tourists and a “service boat” where we would dine and could shower. I took my journal and headed for a quiet space. The sails on the felucca pulled against their ties, like horses against their reins, bucking in the waves.

The slow day had left me restless instead of calm, irritated with the young and the loud, dismayed at aging–at “progress”–in general. I sat with my journal contemplating my frustrations. I wanted to absorb the antiquity, life as its always been on the river, to slow it down to catch it, to feel it.

Bryan came to rescue me from my sad melancholy. My big sweet hero. He brought a bottle of water and a deck of cards for scoreless cribbage. We sat chatting and staring out at the water. A memory that will be time immortal.

strawberries Nile River Egypt — By far, the best strawberries I have ever had. Sweet, tart, juicy, fresh…perfect in every way. On the Nile River, Egypt

Bryan and Carol on the Nile River felucca — Us on the Nile River.

Sleeping on the Nile

Cold night, hard pillows, the occasional splash of fish, buzzing bugs, a barking dog, voices on the bank, and finally snoring on the boat. I awoke in the pitch-black morning and sat looking at the stars and the moon.

Eventually, the smell of coffee, rallied me up and over to the service boat. Dawn was coming. I stood with my coffee and watched the sailors prepare the boats. We would leave the felucca this morning, and they’d return to Aswan.

Earth as Designed, or Progress?

There is an eternity to the Nile, the waters push onto the banks, nourishing the valley, and helping to produce food for millions. But now, the dam at Aswan and the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam on the Blue Nile. What happens to this fertile valley when countries upstream build dams and fill reservoirs? What happens to the world when we progress to fighting for nourishing water, for more and more electricity, for flood control?

River Nile at sundown — The River Nile –pink and periwinkle– just after sunset.

Felucca sails folded for the night nile river egypt — Tucking in the sails for the night.

Felucca sailboat bedding. Egypt — Felucca sailboat bedding. The suitcases all went under the bedding platform.

Feluccas at Sunrise on the Nile River — Feluccas at sunrise on the Nile River.

Sunrise on the Nile. Preparing the felucca sails.

The Sun and Moon over Kom Ombo

Kom Ombo is about 35 miles “below Aswan” (North of). We’d sailed most of that distance, and now we drove to the Temple of Kom Ombo. It was still early morning–the light soft and warm, and the moon still shining down on us. Humming REM, “Egypt was troubled by the horrible asp…yeah yeah yeah yeah. Moses went walking with his staff of wood…yeah yeah yeah yeah…Andy did you hear about this one…If you believe, they put a man on the moon…” 🙂

Kom Ombo temple was built ~100-200 BC. It is a symmetrical double design to accommodate two gods and thought to be the first place efficiently designed for multiple gods. Worshippers chose which door to enter to convene with their god.

Kom Ombo column moon egypt — “If you believe, they put a man on the moon…” Kom Ombo column with bas reliefs. Egypt.

ankh key of life at Kom Ombo egypt — Kom Ombo bas reliefs and the key of life.

Duality…Sobek & Horus

The southeastern half of the temple was dedicated to the crocodile god Sobek, god of the Nile, fertility, and creator of the world. Sobek is represented as the aggressive crocodile, which once populated the banks of the Nile. He is also considered a protective and nurturing healer for Egypt–like the mummified crocodiles who have been found with baby crocodiles in their mouths and on their backs; crocodiles diligently care for their young often transporting offspring in this manner.

Meanwhile, the northwestern part of the temple was dedicated to the falcon-headed god, Horus the Elder, god of the sky and protector of the king. It is said that the sun is his right eye and the moon his left, and that they traverse the sky when he, as a falcon, flies. The moon is dimmer because his left eye was plucked out in a battle with Seth, god of chaos and the desert. Power-hungry humans tied their lineage to Horus, as explanation and justification for pharaonic power as a divine right. Horus has a dying-and-rising story too…but let’s not go there today.

These two, Sobek and Horus, represented duality…both universal and local stories, spiritual and material. Two priesthoods likely shared the space. Worshippers chose the door they entered based on their need at the time.

The Writing on the Wall

The hieroglyphics… you could spend days reading them all, like books written on a wall. Thousands of illustrations…whales, jackals, incense, medical tools, ankhs, flowers, women giving birth (!), a calendar. It is said that women came here for fertility and contraception, and for predicting the sex of their child. Urinate on barley & wheat…if the barley grows, it’s a boy. If the wheat, it’s a girl. One recipe noted the mix of sour milk or honey plus a mystery ingredient to prevent pregnancy.

Kom ombo bas relief whale birds — I wish I could read all the hieroglyphics at Kom Ombo…there are thousands of fascinating bits. I love this whale.

Egyptian calendar kom ombo egypt — Sherif explains this hieroglyphic calendar. Egyptians invented the calendar: a year of 12 months, each month had 30 days, in three 10-day weeks.

Kom ombo hieroglyphics — There are many medical related hieroglyphics at Kom Ombo. This one showed birthing chairs (left) and childbirth (right).

Hijinks

Kings and Pharaohs also came to one of the two black stone altars to request help from the gods. In a hidden wall beside and below the altars, the priests could secretly listen to the king’s private request of his god. The priest then quietly entered the stone chamber hidden beside the altar–which served as an echo or amplification closet–and spoke as god to advise the king/pharaoh. In this way, priests ruled the kings. Once again, religion and politics traveled hand-in-hand. Nothing is really new, is it? Religion is too often political. Up is down.

black stone altar kom ombo — Our guide, Sherif at one of the black stone altars where pharaohs came to seek advice from their gods.

Progress?

The temple has been shaken by earthquakes, its columns and stones salvaged by builders for other temples, and its artwork desecrated by Christians despising and fearing others’ gods. Today, its antiquity is protected. And today, little birds nest in the walls, in the deeply carved hieroglyphics or where chunks have fallen out. I love that.

After our walk through the temple, we lingered. Thank goodness. We sat and enjoyed this soft, slow morning. Music, tea, coffee, and shisha. And the happy little birds, birds singing and us smiling.

lanterns straw roof kom ombo — Lamps under a straw roof. Having coffee after walking through Kom Ombo early one morning.

shisha kom ombo egypt — The boys enjoying shisha at Kom Ombo.

Thank you for reading

If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

dog on the banks of the Nile — Setting sail and saying goodbye to the sweet dog who loves Oreos.

Abu Simbel

Posted January 14, 2020 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

To Abu Simbel

It was still night at the Happi Hotel in Aswan when we took coffee, and picked up breakfast/lunch boxes with boiled eggs and snacks. On the way out of Aswan, we stopped for our “co-pilot”–more like a bus/road marshall or security officer–as we were headed into a border area considered risky for tourists. Some slept on the bus as we waited in a line of traffic to cross the old dam. More night. Finally, red highlighted the horizon. It took over three hours driving through the desert to reach this place called Abu Simbel, just 12 miles from Sudan.

Mythic in Scale

Abu Simbel is mythic in every way. For it’s sheer scale and construction–monumental seated statues carved straight back into a mountain along the banks of the Nile. Ramesses II ordered the building of his temple in the 1260s BC to warn, impress, and awe anyone entering Egypt via the Nile. One can only imagine the fear and wonder sailors felt when they first saw it from the river.

Abu Simbel Egypt — Abu Simbel, UNESCO World Heritage Site. Built in the 1260s BC to impress upon anyone sailing down the Nile that they were entering the land of the Pharaohs, and moved in the 1960s to prevent submersion in Lake Nasser. The temple’s doorway leads to a chamber with more Ramesses II statues and alcoves filled with bas relief stories of epic battles. In the back is a final chamber, with 3 gods and god-wanna-be, Ramesses II. Two days each year, the first rays of sun reach into this chamber and shine upon 3 of the inner statues. The 4th god, Ptah of the underworld, prefers the darkness.

Mythic for the Ancient Architects’ Precision

Mythic for how the ancient architects figured out a precise solar alignment so that the first rays of the sun reached all the way into the inner chamber on two days each year (February 22 and October 22–said to be Ramesses II’s birthday and coronation date).

Abu Simbel inner chamber — In the first chamber, statues of Ramesses II line the way to the inner chamber. Bas reliefs in the alcoves behind tell the stories of battles won.

abu simbel innermost chamber — This is Abu Simbel’s inner-most chamber. On February 22 and October 22, the first rays of the sun shine through the doorway into this space, lighting the faces of 3 of the 4 figures here. Ptah, the god of the underworld–faceless on the left, never gets the sunbeams. The dates have changed now because of the temple’s relocation: some say it is on/around the 23rd-24th of February and October now.

Lost and Found

Abu Simbel was “lost” over time, and nearly buried with blowing sand until it was “rediscovered” in the 1800s. Astounding old photos of the massive sand dune– pouring over the mountain and covering the entrance while long-dead souls stand in the lap of one of the Ramesses II statues. Mythic stories of discovery.

Abu Simbel 1800 graffiti — 1800s graffiti. The temples had been forgotten until rediscovery around 1813. They were first photographed around 1854, when a dune spilled over the top of the temple’s mountain, and sand filled the entryway. The sand enabled early exploring vandals to etch their names high on the legs of the 66 foot tall statues.

Abu Simbel face of Ramesses II — The face of Ramesses II. The far left one. Ramesses II (aka Ramesses the Great) lived to be 96. It is said that he had more than 200 wives and concubines, and 96 children. His name and accomplishments are carved all over Egypt, and most every ancient site mentions Ramesses the Great. So long was his reign, and so prolific was his ego, that there was panic that the world would end when he died.

Abu Simbel Moves

And finally, Abu Simbel is mythic because the entire temple was MOVED in an engineering miracle in the 1960s to avoid being submerged by the Aswan Dam’s Lake Nasser. Impressive photos of cranes lifting away the statues in pieces, of a magic mountain built with similar chambers– 213 feet up and 656 feet back from the water. A feat as audacious as Ramesses II’s building of the temple in the first place. What must have the locals felt when witnessing the disassembly and movement of so ancient a monument?

A face of Ramesses II Abu Simbel — A face of Ramesses II. One on the right. Note the lines where the engineers cut the face for moving, and the old graffiti carved high on his chest.

Abu Simbel-Ramesses II on the left. — Abu Simbel: The two Ramesses II on the left. Ramesses II #2 lost his upper body to an earthquake believed to have happened not long after construction. During the monument’s move in the 1960s, because the fallen face had eroded, engineers decided to leave the broken piece in the exact same position at his feet in the new location.

Abu Simbel Ramesses II — Abu Simbel: The two Ramesses II on the right. Tucked in between Ramesses’ legs are smaller statues of his favorite wife, his mom, and some of his 96 kids.

Second Temple for Nefertari

Did I mention there are TWO temples? Just to the right of Ramesses II’s temple to himself is a smaller temple to his favorite wife, Nefertari. Its sanctuary, also carved into the mountain, is filled with bas reliefs of the king and queen making offerings. This temple is one of very few in Egyptian art where the statues of the king and his queen are carved in equal size.

Temple of Nefertari — The smaller temple to the right of Ramesses II’s monument to himself, is a temple for his wife, Nefertari. Temples cut into the mountains and cut from them 3,220 years later, to be moved up-and-over into newly created “mountains”.

Bryan and Carol at Abu Simbel — Us at Abu Simbel, just in front of the fallen top half of Ramesses II statue #2.

film holga Abu Simbel — Old film shot with a Holga at Abu Simbel. The film has been through one too many X-ray machines.

Thank you for reading

If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

The Great Pyramid of Giza

Posted January 13, 2020 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

The Great Pyramid of Giza

It is said it was built before the wheel. When Moses was found in the bulrushes of the Nile, these pyramids were already 1,000 years old. The Great Pyramid (or Cheops Pyramid), tomb of Pharaoh Khufu, was built 2584–2561 BC and is the only one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World still standing. At 481 feet high, the Great Pyramid of Giza was the tallest man-made structure in the world for 3,800 years.

Also in the same 13-acre complex are two other great pyramids–Khufu’s son Khafre and grandson Menkaure, plus numerous smaller pyramids, and the Sphinx. They sit in Giza, on the outskirts of Cairo, west of the Nile, and at the eastern edge of the Sahara desert.

three pyramids giza cairo egypt — At a distance, the Giza Pyramids. Cairo, Egypt

horse buggy giza great pyramid cairo egypt — From the bus window, a horse and buggy pass the Great Pyramid.

dog-stray-homeless-giza-pyramids-cairo-egypt — A stray dog waiting for anyone in the Great Pyramid’s parking lot to acknowledge his hunger. Why do animals suffer so?

Gateways to the Afterlife

The tombs were built west of their civilization, nearer to the mysteries of the setting sun. People believed that the pyramids were gateways or staircases to the afterlife. And the dead kings and pharaohs had their tombs stocked with earthly things they might need in the next life. Of course, over these last 4,500 years, people have raided and stolen whatever was once there. Either that, or the dead did indeed take their stuff with them.

giza-pyramid-cairo-egypt — Looking up at the Great Pyramid. People stand near the entrance. The building blocks are “as high as a dinner table” said Mark Twain. Yes, indeed.

stairs inside great pyramid giza cairo egypt — Inside the Great Pyramid. Hot, close, strangely humid amid all those stones. Up, up, up.

Click HERE to see a cross-section diagram of the inside of the Great Pyramid.

To see a diagram of how tall the Great Pyramid is compared to other travel icons, click here.

And for an interesting circa 1912 visual comparison of the Great Pyramid’s height to the length of the Titanic, click here.

Pyramids-giza-cairo-egypt-khufu-khafre — The Great Pyramid of Khufu in the foreground, and his son Khafre’s Pyramid behind. Khafre’s pyramid is 9 feet shorter, but sits on higher ground giving it the appearance of being bigger than his dad’s pyramid. It is the only one with some of its limestone casing still intact near the top.

great pyramid cairo egypt — Bryan and Carol on the side of the Great Pyramid.

Near the corner of the Great Pyramid. All the hustle goes on up front where tourists enter.

tourist hijab pyramids — The three pyramids align precisely along their southeast corners. Despite centuries of speculations, calculations, and wonderment, no one knows to what they are aligned…could it be Orion’s Belt? the stars at equinox? the ancient city of Heliopolis? ruins in South America? the alien spaceship runway?

The Pyramids, the Camels and the Sahara

When I should have been admiring the ancient pyramids right in front of me, when I should have been marveling that I had just exited a 4,500-year-old tomb, I instead became obsessed with the circus of tourists, the camels eating lunch, and the endless horizon of the Sahara.

Stretching for another 2,700 miles west, the Sahara is the largest desert in the world. A world foreign and dangerous. How long until one saw nothing but sand and mirages in all directions, until a living being dehydrated like a raisin? The camels–who most certainly knew the answer–sat with their legs tucked under, munching on their greens.

camels eating giza pyramids cairo egypt — Camels break for lunch. The Sahara stretches for another 2,700 miles behind.

camel lunch sahara giza cairo egypt — A camel has lunch in the Sahara near Giza’s pyramids.

Please, please, don’t ride the camels

Sadly, the camels are there for the typical tourist photo opportunity. Repeatedly, big and small paid good money for fifteen-minute rides. I groaned to see the camels bellow when their knobby knees unfolded slowly with the burden of two large humans weighing them down. It made my knees hurt to watch.

Minutes later, I laughed when one camel got away from his keeper–don’t worry, he was riderless. He ran like a little kid around and around his kneeling herd of friends, making a giggle sound and eliciting excited giggles from his compadres. It was a game to him.

But not to the human boss-man herdmeister, who eventually grabbed the prankster’s reins. I yelled at the idiot man who used a stick to beat the camel’s front knee caps until he knelt down. What absolute assholes humans can be.

Please, please, don’t ride the camels. Yeah, I know…it’s income for the poor human. But seriously, why do obese tourists need to ride on a long-suffering camel who has had his knees beaten for horsing around? Makes me sick. Full disclosure, I rode a camel once, for a full day in Jordan’s Wadi Rum. Her name was Lulu and she was with her family. The bedouin scratched her ears and neck, cooed to her, and laughed at her 5-year-old antics. They loved her, I’m sure. Nevertheless, I’ll never ride an animal again. It’s beneath their dignity.

giza-pyramid-hill-cairo-egypt — Ah, …to have been an early explorer. Hills near the Pyramids. Giza, Cairo, Egypt.

Mark Twain and The Sphinx

The Sphinx was buried in sand up to her neck in the 1860s when Mark Twain met her and gushed in The Innocents Abroad:

“After years of waiting, it was before me at last. The great face was so sad, so earnest, so longing, so patient. There was a dignity not of earth in its mien, and in its countenance a benignity such as never anything human wore. It was stone, but it seemed sentient. If ever image of stone thought, it was thinking.

It was looking toward the verge of landscape, yet looking at nothing–nothing but distance and vacancy. It was looking over and beyond everything of the present and far into the past. It was gazing out over the ocean of Time…It was thinking of the wars of departed ages; of the empires it had seen created and destroyed; of the nations whose birth it had witnessed; whose progress it had watched, whose annihilation it had noted; of the joy and sorrow, the life and death, the grandeur and decay, of 5,000 slow revolving years…

It was MEMORY–RETROSPECTION–wrought into visible, tangible form.”

Lady or Lion?

Now, the Sphinx’s body and paws are uncovered, bolstered with new bricks, and she is cordoned off from touchy tourists. Surely, she is stunned by the silliness of human attention. Today, she gazes out at a sea of folding chairs positioned in neat rows for the nightly light show/concert. Far beneath her ancient dignity. Maybe she enjoys the concerts, the spotlights, the audience. Maybe she was lonely out there, relegated to watching Cairo from a distance–albeit a lessening distance as civilization creeps closer.

And yes, my dear Mr. Twain, I feel confident she is a she.

sphinx-giza-cairo-egypt — “The Sphinx is grand in its loneliness; it is imposing in its magnitude; it is impressive in the mystery that hangs over its story. And there is that in the overshadowing majesty of this eternal figure of stone, with its accusing memory of the deeds of all ages, which reveals to one something of what he shall feel when he shall stand at last in the awful presence of God.” Mark Twain,1867.

Thank you for reading

If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Cairo’s Mosques and Churches

Posted January 12, 2020 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Cairo’s Mosques and Churches

I write too much. It’s too much to read, even for me sometimes. Who cares? What–if anything I create–will last so long? And does it even matter if I leave a trace on earth?

So I’ll write just the words I wrote at the time–things to remember, to bring back the sounds, smells, and atmosphere of the moment. From this cool morning in January 2020 in Cairo walking through Islamic and Coptic Cairo.

Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun, Mosque of the Citadel

“Shoes off please”, as we walked into the open air mosque. Shade. Intense quiet inside these walls. Sunbeams by the mihrab. East goes the qibla.

Cold stones and still-dewey rugs. A momentary smell near the middle, something dead? Sounds of sweeping, sweeping, sweeping. A breeze. Lanterns swaying on long chains. Imagine them candlelit! The corinthian columns…so many, all different. Salvaged from other churches, other mosques, other forgotten or fallen-out-of-favor buildings. One column with a sundial–now in the wrong place to work. This one with crosses, also useless in a mosque. Some white marble columns, some red granite, a few of black stone. These ancient columns from the Pharaohs, the Byzantines, the Copts. How did the architects in 1300 figure out how many bricks to use to even out the different heights and level the ceiling, the arches?

Out onto the patio. On a clear day, we’d have seen the Pyramids for the first time. Today, we gazed into the distance, and saw only haze. A sandy smog blowing in from the Sahara. We looked out over the Cairo neighborhood. Down there was the Madrassa, and the mosque where the Shah of Iran is interred. The stone floor of the Citadel patio–two overlapping squares form an 8-pointed Islamic star. A manicured tree keeps watch at the precipice. Sunshine, and the faint sounds of Cairo’s traffic below.

Sweeping-carpet-mosque-Al Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun — The mosque of Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun. The columns are each unique–salvaged from other buildings when the mosque was constructed in the early 1300s.

Mosque of the Citadel, Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun, Rub el Hizb, al-Quds star, Cairo, Egypt. — Outside the Mosque of the Citadel, aka the Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun mosque, the Islamic 8-point Rub el Hizb or al-Quds star, is in the floor design. Cairo, Egypt.

Minaret-lantern-Al Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun — Minaret and hand-painted lantern at Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun.

Manicured tree at Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun mosque. Cairo, Egypt.

The Alabaster Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha

A mosque made of alabaster? Can it be true? Imagined silky cold white, translucent, glowing. Didn’t imagine the Sahara’s sand.

The outer courtyard of the Alabaster Mosque aka the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha.

Sahara sand coats the alabaster of the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha.

Light at the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha, The Alabaster Mosque. I tried to imagine the birdsong from 1867, the fluttering wings, and the light.

The great delicate and dusty chandeliers at the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha, The Alabaster Mosque. — The ghosts…great delicate and dusty chandeliers at the Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha, aka The Alabaster Mosque.

Oh my. The many minarets. And then inside the great hall…the chandeliers! Oh my at the chandeliers. Ghost like in their dusty elegance. I remembered the words of Mark Twain on his visit to Cairo in 1867:

“the little birds have built their nests in the globes of the great chandeliers that hang in the mosque, and how they fill the whole place with their music and are not afraid of anybody because their audacity is pardoned, their rights are respected, and nobody is allowed to interfere with them, even though the mosque be thus doomed to go unlighted.”

Oh to hear bird songs here. Is this the same dust that Twain saw? Many visitors sat on the floor–I wished to linger too, maybe for hours. I wished to sit…no, lay on the floor and stare up at that ceiling, at those chandeliers. Hours, yes.

Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan

Red carpet entry into a vast courtyard. Four nooks representing the four sects of Islam–presumably where each sect sat for learning their spin on the scriptures. The floors, the light, the ablution fountain, and the unbelievable height of the arches, and length of the lantern chains. What scale!

Looking back at the entry into the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan. Cairo, Egypt. — Looking back at the entry into the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan. Such incredible scale is lost in a photo.

The quiet courtyard of the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan. Cairo, Egypt. — The quiet courtyard of the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan.

The ablutions fountain and decorative floor of the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan. Cairo, Egypt. — The ablutions fountain and decorative floor of the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan.

Hand-painted lanterns hang on long chains from a massive arch in the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan. Cairo, Egypt. — This is one of the largest arches in a mosque that non-Muslim people can visit. Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan.

Intermission

Lunch at Aikhan Cafe = soft gooey rice with a ramekin of stewed eggplants and peppers. Tea, tahini, babaganoush, pickled veggies and a pita. Filling, light, and wholesome. Next up, Coptic Cairo.

The Hanging Church

Coptic Christians represent about 10-15% of Egypt. The hanging church hangs over a former fortress. Mosaics line the courtyard entry–telling the story of Simon the Tanner and moving a mountain. Inside it’s cozy, close together pews. The vaulted ceiling frees the eyes upward, built to resemble Noah’s ark. The pulpit’s 15 columns–1 for Jesus leads the way, 14 others follow. One each per disciple, plus two followers who were not titled “disciples”. A black column for Judas, and grey ones for Doubting Thomas, and followers Mark and Luke.

Candles danced before St. Luke’s “Mona Lisa” painting, now an icon, respected, visited. I lit a candle there…for hope, for grace, for art that survives so long. I tried reading the notes and prayers left in a glass box by St. George’s icon. I studied the 40 faces of martyred nuns in another painted icon. A column here is said to weep and have images of Mary materialize. Fish are carved into the wooden pews. Incense burns. And that ark ceiling lifts the eyes up. Are we gathered two-by-two?

mosiac-Hanging Church-Cairo-Egypt — A mosaic in the courtyard of the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary) in Cairo, Egypt.

A mosaic in the courtyard of the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary) in Cairo, Egypt.

Wood detail in the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary) in Cairo, Egypt. — Wood detail in the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary).

Icon in the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary) in Cairo, Egypt. — Icon in the Coptic Hanging Church (Church of the Virgin Mary).

St. Luke's Mona Lisa icon at the Hanging Church in Cairo, Egypt — St. Luke’s Mona Lisa icon at the Hanging Church in Cairo, Egypt.

Columns of the Hanging Church's pulpit, representing Christ's disciples — Columns of the Hanging Church’s pulpit, representing Christ’s disciples

Submit your prayers and offerings at this icon in the Hanging Church, Cairo, Egypt. — Submit your prayers and suggestions at this icon in the Hanging Church.

St Sergius & St Bacchus Church

"The first church", a nave in the basement of St Sergius and St Bacchus Church in Coptic Cairo, Egypt. — “The first church”, a nave in the basement of St Sergius and St Bacchus Church in Coptic Cairo, Egypt.

Ancient texts. Hanging Church, Cairo, Egypt — Ancient texts. St Sergius & St Bacchus Church. Cairo, Egypt

Coptic cross tattoo, Egypt — Coptic cross wrist tattoo, Egypt. Coptic Christian children receive a wrist tattoo around the age of four. It is between the size of a dime and a nickel.

Jewish Cairo? “No Jews are left in Egypt”, says our guide.

No photos are allowed in Ben Ezra Synagogue. But what beautiful moments sitting and sketching the windows, shaped like the ten commandment tablets (as if I know the shape) with old glass of warped clear, blue, and yellow. Intricate alabaster, mother of pearl, and carved woodwork filled the center of the main room. Many religious texts survived because they were hidden and preserved here. Throughout history, what is saved and what is destroyed? What is lost and what is found? And what paths have we set out on as a result of these edits?

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Going old

Posted April 24, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Going old?

“Forty eight. I have 48 pairs of shoes.”

On a spring day in 2017, I stood in my closet and counted my shoes. When did I accumulate so many shoes? I was getting ready for work and it was way past time to go. My mind was elsewhere. I’d just read an email that a website where we’d parked our travel diaries for 10+ years was closing shop. It was going to be a lot of work—in not-a-lot of time—to move the entries before the site closed. I had thumbed through our posts, like pages of a magazine. There we were in Iceland, in Portugal, Jerusalem, Cuba, Antarctica, in Easter Island ten years ago. There I was in front of the moai—camera in hand, hair blowing, eyes closed, and a beaming smile. Where had the time gone?

A lot had changed in 10 years, yet the days and weeks never really varied. Work, eat, clean, TV, sleep, and talk-talk-talk about traveling the world. I had sat there staring, turning off the computer in a numb daze. Now I stood staring at shoes. Would we ever go on the trip we’d saved for, dreamed of, talked about?

Portents

Not long after, I had a vivid nightmare. In it, I couldn’t move. My legs wouldn’t listen to my head. I was trapped listening to some banal TV show and was too far from the room’s small window to even look outside. My time for walking in the big, wide, wild world had passed. I was bored. Claustrophobic. Angry. I awoke—scared and sad and anxious.

One morning a month later, I was sitting in my kitchen drinking a cup of coffee when we learned yet another in our circle had died. He was only a few years older than us. And on this summer morning, he had dropped dead in his kitchen while drinking a cup of coffee.

Chilling. My stomach soured and my nerves tightened. Gripping fear. We had to go. GO NOW. ASAP. We’d talked about going for years, saved for it, dreamed of it. Why were we waiting? What were we waiting for? We’re healthy. Our families are healthy and independent. How much longer would we have the time and the vigor to go?

And that was that.

We made the decision that morning to go, to quit our jobs, to take a break. Pent-up dreams of places far away starting spilling out. We jotted down cities, countries, rough plans to hit the road for an extended period of time. Travel light. Sleep cheap.

My mother was supportive. She told me that she and and my step-father had always wanted to travel around the USA, yet never made the move to go. He passed away two years ago. “You should go while you can,” she said. Light bulb. It took a month or two, but we convinced her to go with me on a long road trip before Bryan and I left for the around-the-world trip.

People said, “How brave!” when we told them about our plans. “You’re quitting your jobs?” “What about health insurance?” “What will you do when you get back?” We tripped through the answers. We secretly grilled ourselves on these same dead-weight questions and still had no real answers. It felt beyond irresponsible. In the weeks leading up to the gap, we bounced between thrilled, terrified, tingling, sleepless, and frantic—but always with giddy smiles, pounding hearts, and no regrets.

My last day of work was on Friday the 13th of October. A few days later, I got on a plane to go get my mother for a road trip around the USA. We pulled out of her driveway two days after that. Seven weeks, twenty-seven states, and 11,511 miles passed. We got home in time for Christmas. And then, in early January, my husband and I left for an 11-week, 28,000+ miles, around-the-world trip. Thousands of photos and stories later, here we are—back home.

We’ve been on the move—living in the moment. Now, I’ll share some of the memories. Also, please note, that I’ve backdated the blog posts for when they were happening and drafted).

And then?

Well, we’re still figuring that out.

We are going old. But life is too short not to GO. One day, when we become lost in our heads and/or trapped in our bodies, we’ll have our memories to go on—even if they play as random as a box of VCR tapes with the labels worn off.

So here’s to going—and going until we run out of road!

Death-Valley-Badwater-Basin — *Carol and Lucy in Death Valley’s Badwater Basin*

annapurna-himalayas-nepal — *Bryan and Carol in Nepal’s Annapurna range*

Mekong boat phnom penh cambodia — *Bryan on a boat on the Mekong, Phnom Penh, Cambodia*

Night train India — *Carol on the night train to Varanasi, India*

*Lucy on the viewing deck at Niagara Falls, NY*

Death valley road — *Going old is a bit like traveling on this single lane, one direction road in Death Valley.*

Heading Home

Posted March 30, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Waiting for the ferry on Paros. These shoes were made for walking the world. — *Us. Waiting for the ferry on Paros.*

The day had come. We were heading home. This was the final leg of our around-the-world trip.

We took a nearly-five-hour, non-stop Blue Star Ferry from Paros back to Athens at 10:45 a.m. We spent the time on the ferry reading, downloading photos, writing, and staring out the window. Our long-dreamed-about trip around-the-world was coming to an end. And we wondered, what’s next?

Back in Athens

We arrived in Athens on time, and checked into the same hotel, the Acropolis View Hotel. After freshening up, we went for an evening walk around the Acropolis and to find some dinner. We said “hey” to Boss the dog, sleeping inside the closed gates of the Acropolis. We dined at “God’s”—high expectations with a name like that–and filled up on delicious risotto-stuffed tomatoes, fava, and wine.

On the morning we left, we used the last of our traveling coffee packets, and sat out on our balcony, soaking up the sun and staring at the Parthenon. It’s tenacity seemed a fitting ending to our trip, and a reminder of home for us Nashvillians.

*A panorama of Athens and the Acropolis. Greece.*

And then, we flew home: ATH – LHR – ORD

First, we had a taxi ride with Michael to the airport. The car windows were down and open to the sunny sea air, and the Foo Fighters, ACDC, Supertramp blared from the stereo. Everlong will forever remind me of flying through foreign streets: “…If everything could ever feel this real forever, If anything could ever be this good again…”

The four-hour British Airways flight left Athens at 1:30 p.m. BA ran out of vegetarian meals by the time they got to my seat. And because one passenger on board had a peanut allergy, no snacks with nuts were being sold and we were asked not to eat the peanut M&Ms we’d brought onboard either. BA also charged for water, payable by credit card only. And with that, British Airways officially became the least favorite of all the airlines we’d flown around the world.

It was a brief stop in London, and as we got to the gate on this dark, rainy night, we were asked some strange U.S. immigration questions before boarding the American Airlines flight. It was nine hours to ORD–plenty of time for a meal, a movie (the tearjerker, “Coco”), some reading, and some quiet time to reflect on our trip. We landed at O’Hare around 7:30 p.m., and were back at home by 9 p.m. We’d gone all the way around this big old world! It was good to be home. And yet, I’d go again in a heartbeat.

Around the world

28,000+ miles
6 countries, plus 4 more touched in transit
Our 7th (and 8th!) continent

Big planes, little planes, scenic rails, overnight trains, taxis, buses, bicycle rickshaws, remorks, tuk-tuks, small boats, big ferries, and miles of walking. From glaciers on the 8th Continent to the Great Barrier Reef, to the Taj Mahal and Angkor Wat, to Mt. Everest and the Parthenon…here’s to all the sunrises and sunsets, smiles, laughs, beautiful animals, crazy sights, tasty meals, and Nescafe along the way.

Leaving on our around-the-world trip, waiting for the el to O'Hare. Chicago. — **Leaving for our around-the-world trip**; waiting for the el to O’Hare. Chicago.

All that can't leave behind fit into two carry-on bags each. — *All that we couldn’t leave behind fit into two carry-on bags each.*

***Boarding the train in New Zealand.***

Bryan and a waterfall on the hike to Franz Josef Glacier, New Zealand. — Bryan and a waterfall on the hike to **Franz Josef Glacier, New Zealand.**

*Carol photographing the Franz Josef Glacier, New Zealand.*

*“Vegemite! It’s real!” Bryan in **Australia**.*

Flying to Lady Elliot Island in the Great Barrier Reef. Australia. — *Flying to **Lady Elliot Island in the Great Barrier Reef**. Australia.*

***A mama turtle returns to the ocean after laying eggs all night on Lady Elliot Island, Australia.***

Us at Angkor Wat, Cambodia. — *Us at **Angkor Wat, Cambodia**.*

Carol gets a blessing at Ta Prohm, Cambodia. — *Carol gets a **blessing at Ta Prohm, Cambodia**.*

Bryan on the Mekong. Cambodia. — Bryan on the **Mekong. Cambodia.**

Us at the Taj Mahal. Agra, India. — *Us at the **incredible Taj Mahal. Agra, India**.*

*Bryan, Carol, and Carina in a tuk tuk going to Orchha. India.*

Carol on the overnight train to Varanasi, India. — Carol on the **overnight train to Varanasi, India.**

“Pardon me”, Bryan and a cow in **Varanasi, India.**

Us at sunrise in the Himalayas. Nepal. — *Us at **sunrise in the Himalayas**. Nepal.*

*Bryan taking the bus down from Sarangkot, in the Annapurna Range, Nepal.*

On the road to Kathmandu. Nepal. — ***On the road to Kathmandu. Nepal***.

Us at the real Parthenon. Athens, Greece. — Us at the real **Parthenon. Athens, Greece.**

Bryan and the old dog of Lefkes. Paros, Greece. — Bryan and the **old soul of Lefkes. Paros, Greece.**

***In the travel poster view. Santorini, Greece.***

Thank you for reading

Select photos from our trip are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Greece: Lefkes, Paros

Posted March 26, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

The sweet little village of Lefkes

One day on Paros, we took a bus up into the heart center of the island, to the little town of Lefkes. This is the place where we ran into the thin old dog living in the hillside cemetery behind the Church Agia Triada.

I returned to Lefkes another day to feed the dog, and to wander the quiet streets. Space here is not wasted. Lanes are narrow, houses fit into small corners at odd angles, and wisteria vines grow in tiny garden plots. It is a lovely little town of whitewashed houses, stone walls and terraces, blue doors, windmills, about 500 residents, and a few dear dogs and cats.

Our trip was nearly over. I was sad, a little tired, and starting to worry about things at home. I wandered around in a river of thoughts, not one of which I could grab hold of.

*Narrow lanes of Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

*The house between the churches. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

The windmill...Looking out from the church yard, Lefkes, Paros, Greece. — *The windmill…Looking out from the church yard, Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

The sea and the terraced fields...looking out from the church yard. Lefkes, Paros, Greece. — *The sea and the terraced fields…looking out from the church yard. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

The old dog soul of Lefkes. Paros, Greece. — **The old soul of Lefkes.** Paros, Greece.

Corner house and tree. Lefkes, Paros, Greece. — *Corner house, garden and tree. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

Porch pergola. Lefkes, Paros, Greece. — *Porch pergola with woven awning. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

Garage and windmill. Lefkes, Paros, Greece. — *Garage, garden, and windmill. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

*Looking down to the church of Lefkes. Paros, Greece.*

Lanes and stoops. Lefkes, Paros, Greece. — *Lanes and steps. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

Window shutters and rocks. Lefkes, Paros, Greece. — *Window shutters and rocks. Greece.*

*The old dog in the church yard. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.*

Old house and stone fence. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.

Thank you for reading

Select photos from Greece and other places on our around the world trip are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Greece: Naoussa and Parikia, Paros

Posted March 25, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Blue Star Ferry from Santorini to Paros

After a week on astoundingly beautiful Santorini, we took a ferry to a quiet island called Paros. Our friend Helen had suggested this island as a restful place to wind-down our trip…an island with typical Greek Island life and less tourists. We’d made arrangements through Himalaya Travel to stay in Naoussa, but spent much of our time in Paros in Parikia and Lefkes.

*From the ferry, the village of Fira, Santorini, Greece.*

*From the ferry, the village of Oia, Santorini, Greece.*

Gypsies?

In Santorini, a group of six women sat waiting to board the ferry. Each sat on a bundle the size of a bean-bag chair. They all wore kerchiefs, layers of long skirts and aprons, and work boots that must have walked a million miles. Among them was one young girl, maybe ten years old, in jeans and a t-shirt under a jean jacket, her hair in a pony tail with stray strands. Maybe they were sisters, aunts, grandmothers, Gypsies? I was mesmerized by their rugged faces and different ways.

Someone left behind a grocery bag. The girl grabbed it and within seconds the ladies all crowded around to examine the contents. They studied each piece of trash, peering into empty chip bags. When they’d finished, they put the bag back. The young girl held her hand out, begging from another passenger–a young woman who instead of giving her money, took the girl’s hand between her own with a smile in a gesture of friendship. The girl beamed at her. A man offered the girl a piece of candy, which she took slowly while staring at him. She ran to one of the women, showing the candy and pointing to the man. The woman looked at him as she unwrapped the candy, sniffed it, and took a big bite. As she chewed, she handed the other half of the candy back to the girl, and nodded at the man.

They looked as if they could have walked out of photos taken in the 1800s in the villages of Ireland, Italy, Greece, or Russia. I lost them in the crowd getting on the ferry. Later, I saw them exiting at Naxos in the pouring rain, their bundles thrown over their shoulders like granny Santas.

Naoussa Paros Arrival

We arrived in Paros after a three-hour ferry ride. The ferry backs in to the dock, and the alarms beep as the hatch goes down and is positioned on the dock. Meanwhile, passengers gather and start their cars to exit. It was already dark, and the rain was coming down. We got a taxi, gave him the address for our hotel in Naoussa, and headed into the night.

After checking in, we stood on the dark balcony in the wind–we could hear the sea, but couldn’t see it. Our room overlooked a small beach and bay. But we wouldn’t know that until the morning.

*The view from our balcony at night. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

Greek Independence Day

The next day was Greek Independence Day and there was a parade. This celebration marks the end of the war in 1830, when the Greeks defeated the Ottoman Empire. Gathering at the main church in Naoussa, the children marched through the streets carrying flags. The tiniest tots were dressed in traditional Greek attire, while teens wore their school uniforms of navy blue skirts or pants and crisp white shirts.

Paros Days

We spent our days in Paros walking around the village’s narrow passageways, and traveling around the island by bus to the larger town of Parikia (where the ferry docks) and to the mountain village of Lefkes.

*An octopus advertises a seafood cafe on the shores of Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*A different shade of blue. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

Not Tourist Season Yet

Once again, it was obvious that “the season” hadn’t begun yet. Only a few restaurants were open, and much painting was going on. Many places were closed or had limited hours, still preparing for tourist season to begin after Easter.

We became regulars at one of the only places in town open for dinner, Riatsa. Locals and the few tourists in town dined on tasty pastas, salads, and wine in their cozy kitchen.

*A great little tavern/cafe for music, iced coffee, and cookies. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*Table for three. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

Paros Marble

Paros is an island made of marble. It is famous for its fine white marble–which today has mostly been depleted. In fact, the marble for Venus de Milo came from this island.

Buildings’ steps are often marble slabs, well-worn, repaired, and painted a hundred times over. We wandered around the old marble streets, our shoes echoing in the quiet. The narrow lanes of white, gray, beiges, blues and greens were full of tiny stairs and passageways. Plants grow in small nooks among the steps and stairs. No space is wasted.

*Marble steps complete with built-in garden. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*Marble steps and paths in Naoussa. Paros, Greece.*

*Looking down a path to blue door and window. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*Cactus, windmill, and cats. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*Cats. Lots of cats. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*Green shutters, door, and clothesline. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*Green gate at the Octopus house. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

*Laundry and gray doors. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

Storm on Paros

One night there was a fierce storm on Paros. The wind relentlessly pummeled our room. One of the shutters came unhooked and slammed into the wall and window until Bryan ran out to secure it. The patio furniture was flipped over already. He got back inside–soaking wet–before the hail started. The rain came down in sheets for a few hours and water began seeping in under our door. We put our towels at the door and window. The lights flickered. The wind howled. Things rattled and banged. Here we were on a small island in the middle of the Aegean and Mediterranean, huddled and waiting to be blown away, or for the storm to wear itself out.

In the morning, the sun came out but the temperature was about ten degrees cooler.

The view from our room and balcony. Naoussa, Paros. Greece. — *The view from our room and balcony on a nice day. Naoussa, Paros. Greece.*

Parikia

We saw so many quaint alleys, short doors, marble fountains, little niches opening into cave-like churches with candles burning amidst glistening gold icons, and tiny spaces for trees and vines to grow. Men painted the street-stones’ outlines, and it was necessary to hopscotch down the streets until the white wash dried.

*Painted streets, a small church door, and a tiny plot for a tree. Parikia, Paros. Greece.*

Walking in Parikia, we found this beautiful old tree and cafe in the middle of the lane. And behind it on a canal-like bridge, was the cafe “Symposium”. We loved that tiny place for its great sandwiches, red wine, and ambiance.

*A cafe under a tree at the in-between. Parikia, Paros. Greece.*

Panagia Ekatontapiliani’s Leaning Trees

I went to see the Church of the 100 doors, but was more intrigued by the forest of leaning trees outside Panagia Ekatontapiliani. After wandering in the little forest, I sat in the church, watching the sparrows fly around the warm sunlit room filled with gold-painted icons, hundreds of flickering candles while worshippers kissed icons going clockwise around the room.

*Leaning trees and a path. Panagia Ekatontapiliani (The Church of 100 Doors). Parikia, Paros, Greece.*

*Leaning trees at Panagia Ekatontapiliani (or The Church of 100 Doors). Parikia, Paros, Greece.*

*Cat waits on water fountain. Graffiti in Parikia, Paros, Greece.*

Yellow flowers in a tiny garden. Parikia, Paros. Greece. — *A modest garden. Parikia, Paros. Greece.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Greece: Oia and Perissa, Santorini

Posted March 24, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Taking the bus to Oia and Perissa on Santorini

We spent a week on beautiful Santorini, mainly eating, walking the narrow lanes, and staring out to sea. What a place.

A handsome tray of pastries, hard-boiled eggs, yogurt, fruit, sandwich meats/cheeses, juice, and a generous pot of coffee arrived in our room at 8 a.m. every morning. Most days, we had already been out exploring just after dawn–coming back to the room for showers and breakfast. We grazed while getting ready, and stopping to stare at the volcano sea. The rest of the days, we spent wandering the island.

The local bus is an efficient way to explore Santorini. We went north to picture-perfect Oia (said “ee-ah”) and to Perissa on the less-dramatic east side of the island. Tickets are €1.80, purchased onboard from a conductor as the bus hurtles along the cliff-top road.

The Greek White and Blue and Santorini’s Volcano Architecture

It is said that the houses in Greece are painted in white lime water so that the rainwater runs down for collection. It is also because during the Ottoman rule, Greeks were not allowed to fly their white flag. In defiance, entire villages were painted the stark, bright white. Today, it is a Greek tradition–and the villages are blinding with their white paint and blue domes. Most churches have blue domes that reflect the sea and sky.

*Traditional white and blue Greek Architecture on Santorini. Greece.*

Here on Santorini–what is left of an ancient volcano, cliff houses are built into the caldera slopes in carved-out niches. The air-filled pumice bedrock provides insulation, keeping buildings warm in winter and cool in summer. And of course, this allows the buildings to cozy into the mountains practically all the way down to the water. It is remarkable how well the limited space is used. There is much to look at with all the small houses, tiny patios, narrow steps and alleys, private spaces behind colorful iron or picket fence gates, and quiet alcoves filled with geraniums and painted windows.

*The small spaces and homes built into the mountainside. Oia, Santorini, Greece.*

Beautiful church with many bells in the square by the bus station, Oia, Santorini, Greece. — *The big church with many bells in the square by the bus station, Oia, Santorini, Greece.*

Finding THAT view

We walked around the pedestrian streets of Oia, looking for that travel-poster view I used to have hanging on my bedroom wall as a teenager. So many narrow lanes and private spaces. It was hard to figure out if we were on someone’s front stoop, or simply passing through on a public passageway.

After a morning of looking for that view, we finally went into a shop to ask directions. I found a photo of “the view”. “Where is this please?” A helpful sales girl said, “go past the big church, the lane will narrow, then narrow some more. Turn left and keep going down. You’ll see.”

And see we did! We followed her directions and within minutes walking down the path, “that view” came into view. I felt like I’d walked into that poster from so many years ago. Here it sat–down the hill and out of sight from the main road in Oia. And at last, I was in front of it.

That travel poster view in Oia, Santorini, Greece. — *“That” travel poster view in Oia, Santorini, Greece.*

Walking into the view. Oia, Santorini, Greece. — *Walking into the view. I had to touch it to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. Oia, Santorini, Greece.*

The tip of Oia

Near the end of the island, we found Vitrin, a tiny place nestled in the leftover space along a ledge of a lane. Delicious crepes and an even better view! Also, they had a big friendly sheep dog who sat under the tiny tables of those who shared their crepes, one blue eye peering from beneath her shaggy fringe. Yes, of course we fed her!

At a crossroad along narrow paths near the end of the island, we saw a man picking a three-neck bouzouki and singing into the wind. It was a perfect soundtrack as we looked out over the caldera’s sea, and all the love knot ribbons and locks fluttered in the fencing.

*Houses cascade down the island at the northern tip of Santorini, in Oia, Greece.*

*A street musician plays and sings in Oia. Santorini Greece.*

On this part of the island, there were windmills. The windmills of Greece use sails, like a tall ship, to catch the wind. At one time there were more than 70 windmills on Santorini. Considering how strong the winds are on the island, they must generate a lot of energy…and go through a lot of sail canvas!

Oia Santorini white Windmill. Aegean sea Greece. — *Santorini Windmill. Greece.*

We stopped for drinks in a tiny cafe and bar called Meteor. The back had a little balcony overlooking the caldera. The door was open to the sounds of the ocean below, the birds, the breeze, and the sun. Downstairs near the bathroom, I saw that the kitchen-sink window also has that gorgeous view. We sat for a little while, soaking up the moments and writing postcards.

The bar, Meteor, in Oia, Santorini, Greece. — *The cafe bar, Meteor, in Oia, Santorini, Greece.*

Perissa on a cold windy day

On another day, we took the bus to the black-sand beach on the far side of the island. It was a very windy and cold day. Naturally, we met a dog and spent a little time talking to him. We sat inside a restaurant with a scenic view of the black-sand beach, and experienced the slowest service I’ve seen in a long time. We had plenty of time to watch the ocean churn. Threatening waves prevented people from spending much time on the black-sand beach. It was nervous entertainment watching people attempt selfies and surf walking under such harsh conditions. Several hearty souls got knocked down by waves, and many were drenched after only a few minutes. After our two+ hour lunch, we took a brief walk around and turned into Aquarius for drinks and a break from the intense wind.

Tiny house and porch. Perissa, Santorini, Greece. — *Tiny house and porch. Between Fira and Perissa, Santorini, Greece.*

Dog on the beach street in Perissa, Santorini, Greece. — *Dog on the beach street in Perissa. The wild ocean is on the other side of the restaurant tent. Santorini, Greece.*

Dust storm

The wind howled all day. Later, someone told us that the Sahara was coming. What?!? And sure enough, in the late afternoon, the skies began to turn a yellow-orange. Not a sunset orange, but a cloud of orange. Intense ochre colors that blotted and diffused the sun in an already cloudy sky. The wind was blowing in Saharan sand from Africa, blowing it all the way across the Mediterranean Sea. We walked in amazement at the strange and beautiful colors. A sunset diffused by sand from a desert more than a 1,000 miles away. The waitress at Elia’s told us that the dust will stain new white paint if it isn’t cleaned before it rains, so many people would be out tonight cleaning off the sand once the wind stops.

*African dust storm looking north to Oia from Fira, Santorini, Greece.*

We went back into Oia on our last day in Santorini. The storm left behind a layer of orange dust. And the power was out in Oia from the wind storm. Restaurants served what they could. We sat in a bar and gazed out at the view over wine and beer. What a place.

White church with bell, crosses, and Saharan sand dust. Oia, Santorini. Greece. — *White church with bells, crosses, and a fine layer of Saharan sand dust. Oia, Santorini. Greece.*

A fine layer of Saharan-orange dust covers everything on the morning after the sandstorm. Santorini, Greece. — *A fine layer of Saharan-orange dust covers even the poles on the morning after the sandstorm. Santorini, Greece.*

*Blue dome with Saharan sand. Oia, Santorini. Greece.*

*Preparing for Greek Independence Day, Oia, Santorini, Greece.*

Animals / Santorini

Surefooted donkeys carry concrete mix and other building supplies up and down the narrow lanes. And sometimes, they carry tourists who are nearly as big as the donkeys. Riding is not encouraged by animal welfare groups because the donkeys often work in extreme heat with no breaks and no water. And really people…please WALK!

We watched this one donkey, parked against the wall in the sun and facing the wrong way. He wanted to see the coming and going of his fellow donkeys. His ears would perk up when he heard another donkey or the wheel cart bringing things to carry. He eventually side-stepped and turned himself around so he could see the other donkeys coming towards him.

*Two working donkeys. Oia, Santorini. Greece.*

*Food and water for the stray animals of Oia, Santorini. Greece.*

Santorini Animal Welfare Association cares for the dog/cat strays on the island by spaying/neutering, vaccinating, and putting out food and water. SAWA also oversees the implementation of the “Code of Practice” for all donkeys and mules working on Santorini so that they have better health and working conditions.

Moving on

On our final day in Santorini, we wrote postcards on our balcony. Later, we saw a ferry coming in to the caldera. Tomorrow, it would be our ferry coming to take us to another Greek Island…Paros!

*The ferry coming into the caldera of Santorini. Greece.*

Panorama of the view from Oia, Santorini. Greece. — *Panorama of the view from Oia–looking towards Fira, Santorini. Greece.*

*The Greek flag flies on Santorini, Greece.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Greece: Athens and the Parthenon

Posted March 20, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Greece was the last destination on our around-the-world trip. Growing up, I had three travel posters hanging in my room: green fields in Ireland, the fjords of Norway, and a drop-dead gorgeous view of blue domes over pristine white buildings on the Greek Island of Santorini. When we started our around-the-world trip planning, we tried to include places that had been on our lists for a long time like our seventh continent, the Taj Mahal, and Mt. Everest. That travel-poster view of Santorini made the cut. We were heading to Athens and the Parthenon, then some fun, sun, and relaxing on two Greek Islands before going home.

KTM – DOH – ATH

It was six hours from Kathmandu to Doha. We flew over India, Pakistan, Iran, and the Persian Gulf. Finally, we were about 30 feet from landing in Doha when the plane abruptly pulled up and turned sharply. Everyone on the plane was quiet, listening to the accelerating engines and making eye contact with timid smiles. “The wind changed direction,” the pilot told us about ten minutes later. We landed on the other end of the runway, in a dust storm.

Our Doha, Qatar layover was about four hours, so we got some food and sat watching the dust obliterate the view of the runways. It was as thick as smoke, a buff-colored cloud on the ground. Tiny particles sounded like sleet at the windows. The dust diffused the sun into a magical ochre color for hours–and then it seemed to clear. Dust swirled in little puddles on tarmacs we could now see. Planes were coming and going. When we finally left Doha, Qatar Air avoided the direct route to Greece over Saudi and Syrian airspace, instead going north over Iraq before turning left in Turkey.

Arrival in Athens

We arrived after midnight into Athens. A taxi took us along empty streets through the city to our hotel near the Acropolis. We were exhausted. The next morning, I woke up with a runny nose and low-grade fever. We were off to a slow start in Greece. I took some cold medicine we’d packed and spent the morning with a book and tissues in bed. It was a good time to do some laundry via the hotel service. After a few hours, I felt better and started moving again.

Our hotel rooftop had an amazing view of the Parthenon, sitting high on the Acropolis. We sat up there in a cool wind, wrapped in our jackets, and took in the view of this symbol we’ve seen all our lives. Amazing feeling to look at it in person, high on its hill. Later in the afternoon, we walked to the street Drakou in Plaka for dinner at a tavern called Kalamaki. Fresh hummus and a Greek Salad, with french fries and wine. Perfect.

*Beautiful street in Plaka, Athens, Greece.*

The Acropolis

The next day, we made our way to the Acropolis to see the Parthenon. It was about a 25-minute walk from our hotel to the Acropolis park and up. The area just around the Acropolis is filled with outdoor restaurants, street musicians, souvenir shops, and wandering tourists.

The Parthenon

Built in 447-432 BC as a temple to the patron goddess of Athens, Athena, the Parthenon was a sophisticated and precise structure for its time. It has been said that the builders accounted for and refined the design to correct for optical illusions and that the 46 Doric outer columns are proportioned to add life to the rectangular building. The four corner columns are larger and lean inward. The other columns are larger in the middle and taper slightly at the ends–to correct for the leaning one sees in straight lines. It is an architectural masterpiece. And it represents the best of Ancient Greece, Western Civilization, and Democracy.

Being born and raised Nashvillians, we are very familiar with the Parthenon. A full-scale replica of a complete Parthenon stands in Centennial Park across from Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee. The temporary replica was originally built for the 1897 Tennessee Centennial Exposition, and rebuilt in sturdier concrete in the 1920s. We’ve visited our beautiful Parthenon all our lives–scrambling over the base of the building, posing for photos around the columns, feeding the swans that live in the pond, swinging in the most perfect swings, and enjoying the old trees of the park. Our alternative newspaper, the Nashville Scene, has a “You’re so Nashville if…” contest every year. My favorite response ever was, “You’re so Nashville if you think our Parthenon is better because it’s still standing.” 🙂 We FaceTimed our families so they could see the real Parthenon.

Looking out from the Acropolis. Athens, Greece. — *Looking out from the Acropolis to the Temple of Hephaestus. Athens, Greece.*

Columns along the gateway entry up into the Acropolis. Athens Greece. — *Columns at the gateway, along the entry up into the Acropolis. Athens Greece.*

What Happened to the Parthenon?

Once completed in 432 BC, the Parthenon was used as a temple, a treasury, and when the Ottomans came, a mosque. On Sept 26, 1687, it was cannonballed by the Venetians. The Ottomans stored gunpowder there, so all of Athens witnessed the massive explosion that blew the roof off of the 2,000-year-old building. It was a devastating loss of ancient Greek architecture.

Since that time, well-meaning people have taken sculptures for protection and others have stolen pieces out of greed. Other people tried to rebuild with remnants. In the early 1800s, Thomas Bruce, the Earl of Elgin, got permission from the Turks to remove the Parthenon Marbles that once graced the pediments. In an on-going controversy, the Elgin Marbles are still in the British Museum.

The Parthenon. Acropolis, Athens Greece. — *The Parthenon. Athens Greece.*

*Restoring the columns on the Parthenon. Athens Greece.*

What's left of the Parthenon's Eastern pediment. Athens, Greece. — *What’s left of the Parthenon’s Eastern pediment. Athens, Greece.*

*Crane from the Eastern side of the Parthenon. Acropolis, Athens, Greece.*

*The Ottomans were storing gunpowder in this temple (built in 432 BC). When a Venetian cannonball hit in 1687, the Parthenon was blown apart. Parthenon, viewed from the Southeast. Athens, Greece.*

*The Western side of the Parthenon under scaffolding. Athens, Greece.*

Workers on the Parthenon athens Greece — *Workers standing on the Parthenon. Athens, Greece.*

Restoration

Real restoration finally begin in 1975. It is a big, heavy, difficult jigsaw puzzle. Huge pieces are scattered around the grounds. To put it back together, artifacts are inventoried and models will determine appropriate placement. Work is slow. A crane inside the Parthenon places marble pieces carefully and work is done to secure them in non-obtrusive ways.

*Pieces of the Parthenon. Athens, Greece.*

stray columns parthenon athens greece acropolis — *Columns waiting for placement at the Parthenon. Athens, Greece.*

The Acropolis Theaters

Along the hillside of the Acropolis, there are two amphitheaters. The Theatre of Dionysus is considered to be the world’s first theatre, believed to have been built in the sixth century. The theatre seated more than 15,000 people, some in marble throne-like seating up front, and others in the grassy area up the hill. It has excellent acoustics even today. There are re-used statues and reliefs from older buildings around the stage area. We sat for a while, trying to imagine the Greek tragedies that may have played out in this space, enjoying the place, and watching the grass grow between the stage stones…as it has for centuries.

*The Theatre of Dionysus, as seen from the Acropolis. Athens, Greece.*

Bryan resting at the Theater of Dionysus. Athens, Greece. — *Bryan resting in the cheaper seats at the Theater of Dionysus. Athens, Greece.*

The remains of the Theatre of Dionysus, reused sculptures from older buildings. — *The remains of the Theatre of Dionysus, reused sculptures from older buildings surround the ancient stage.*

Also on the hillside of the Acropolis, sits the Odeon of Herodes Atticus theater. This one was built in 161 AD, destroyed in 267 AD, and left in ruins for 1,700 years before being restored in the 1950s. The theater seats about 5,000 people, and once hosted musicians under a wooden roof made from the Cedars of Lebanon. Today, the roof is gone, but it is once again a music theater.

*The Odeon Of Herodes Atticus. Acropolis, Athens, Greece.*

The Odeon Of Herodes Atticus sits on the side of the Acropolis, looking out over Athens, and an area called Plaka.

Boss the Dog

In the Acropolis, we met a few resident dogs. One was 16-year-old Boss. We saw him early in the day, sleeping under a tree. On our way down, a woman was feeding him and we went over to say hello. She told us that volunteers come daily to feed and care for the Acropolis dogs, including old Boss. Today, he’s so old he lays down to eat and naps most of the day. The volunteer sat brushing and cooing to him. During our time talking with them, she filled a water dish twice and he drank it all. As we were leaving, we gave her a donation for food. And she dug out a photocopied photo of Boss as a younger man, a gift for us. As I considered asking for his signature, I looked down to see him smiling up at me. Thanks Boss!

Boss. The old dog resident of the Parthenon and Acropolis. Athens, Greece. — *Boss. The old dog resident of the Parthenon/Acropolis. Athens, Greece.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Nepal: Pokhara and Sunrise in the Himalayas

Posted March 10, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Nepal: Barauli to Pokhara

We left our Barauli Community Homestay near Chitwan National Park early for a five-hour bus ride to Pokhara, Nepal. It was a perfect day, riding on that bus–watching Nepal wake up, and seeing the beautiful and peaceful landscape pass by. I never wanted to arrive.

As usual, our G Adventures guide, Khush, used the time on the bus to tell us stories, explain local customs, and answer our questions. Today, Khush explained facets of Hinduism, Buddhism and Nepal culture.

Farm fields mountain. Barauli, Nepal. — *Farm fields. Leaving Barauli, Nepal.*

Early morning silhouette crossing bridge. Near Barauli, Nepal. — *Early morning. Near Barauli, Nepal.*

*Morning rituals along the road. Barauli to Pokhara. Nepal.*

On the Road to Pokhara

Along the road, we stopped to stretch our legs, for bathroom breaks, and to take a walk across one of the swinging bridges. These types of bridges are high over river gorges, connecting small mountain villages to the main road. In the old days, rivers were crossed via two cherry-picker-sized buckets on self-pulley ropes spanning the gorge. To cross, people would hop in one of the buckets and heave-ho themselves across. Some of these old rope-and-pulley trolleys still exist, but are being replaced by suspension bridges like this one.

Boys crossing a walking bridge. Nepal. — *Friends crossing a walking bridge. Nepal.*

When we continued on, the bus driver played a CD of mantras chanted in English. To this soundtrack, brilliant Nepal passed by. A petite woman in a green sari sipped from a teacup on her porch, looking over the railing at her little garden below. Dogs slept in the sun on piles of rock near the road. Painted ads for cement, paint, fans, and alcohol decorated most concrete buildings. Buddha statues and stupas tucked into the mountains. Prayer flags caught the wind.

We stopped at Santas Restaurant for a buffet lunch. Khush told us that the owner relocated here after an earthquake destroyed his home and property on the road North to Tibet. Earthquakes. Nepal gets a lot of them. In Kathmandu, we would see remnants of the massive 2015 quake. But more on that later. This restaurant was a colorful, friendly place with good food, and better coffee.

Roadside shop selling truck decorations. Nepal. — *Roadside shop selling truck decorations. Like India, the cargo trucks were often painted in bright colors and decked out with tassels and ornaments. Nepal.*

Liver box, slow drive, long life, nepal truck bumper — *Advice on a truck bumper. But what’s in that “Liver Box”?!? Nepal.*

*Roadside view. Barauli to Pokhara, Nepal.*

*Prayer flags, mountain and river. Nepal.*

Pokhara

At last, we arrived in Pokhara under a darkening sky. As we checked into Hotel Bougainvillea, it got dark as night and with that silence of waiting for imminent weather. We walked into our room overlooking the street just as a thunderstorm unleashed. What peaceful, lovely light as the storm rained down. I sat on our balcony, scrunched into a dry corner, sniffing at the mountain rain like a dog. I don’t think there is any better smell on earth than the rain.

SASANE: Combatting human trafficking in Nepal

That night, we went to SASANE, a non-profit supporting and empowering women survivors of human trafficking and gender-based violence. SASANE counsels and provides paralegal job training to survivors and those at risk of trafficking. G Adventures supports SASANE financially, and by bringing tour groups to raise awareness for the cause. SASANE also offers momo-making classes and dinner at their restaurant.

After a rainy ride over, we left our shoes at their door, and they welcomed us with creamy silk scarves and smiles. First, there was a brief presentation explaining SASANE, and the problem of human trafficking among poverty-stricken families. It is estimated that more than 7,000 women and girls are trafficked out of Nepal each year, often bound for brothels in India. We had an opportunity to purchase books about the topic, and crafts made by the survivors.

It was here at SASANE that I bought the book Sold, by Patricia McCormick, the story of a 13-year-old Nepalese girl sold into slavery by her stepfather. This book is a quick and devastating read. I highly recommend it, and Little Princes, by Conor Grennan, to learn about the heartbreaking and tragic outcomes for the trafficked children of Nepal. To learn more about trafficked children of Nepal, read this article from World Political Review.

Making Momo Dumplings

Next, we washed up and gathered around a table to learn how to make dumplings, the ubiquitous momos of Nepal. Momos are steamed goodness, dumplings filled with meat and/or veggies and an array of savory spices. First, we used little rolling pins to roll the dough paper thin on tiny wood cutting boards. Then we laid the dough across our palms, dropped in a dollop of veggie filling, carefully folded in the edges, and pinched it closed like a little cinched bag. The momos were whisked away for steaming and we helped tidy up. When at last it was time to eat, a SASANE participant sat with us and showed us how to eat our Thali set meal without utensils. A remedial student at best, my food mostly missed my mouth, and I resorted to using a spoon to get every last bite.

At the end of the night, we said goodbye. Not understanding that our scarves were a gift to keep, I folded mine to give back as I waited to put my shoes on. “No, no, it’s a gift. You must tie it to a tree one day for our peace and happiness.”

Up into the Himalayas

We got up very early the next morning to see the sun rise over the Himalayas’ Annapurna Range. In the pitch-black morning, our bus went up, up, up a twisting, turning road. We could see a few lights twinkling between trees far down in the valley below. Eventually, we reached the top, and stumbled out of the bus into the long beams and shadows of the headlights. Still without coffee, we ghost walked up, up, up steep steps in the cold morning to wait for the sun.

*Beginning to see the mountain shapes. Pre-dawn at the Annapurna mountain range. Sarangkot, Nepal.*

Sunrise in the Himalayas

The place we came to was quiet, though not empty. Stalls were still covered. A few people huddled around in hoods, talking softly. Over the next 20 minutes, the area became quite crowded as more people arrived for sunrise.

At last, we started to see the outlines of the mountains materialize from the darkness. Then it was light enough to see the white snow on top of the mountain shapes. We shivered and waited. Finally, the highest mountain tops caught the first rays of the sun, and we watched the glowing light move down, down, down the mountains. And then, like magic, the sun peeked over a mountain–rays of sunlight exploded into our eyes. Monks chanted a welcome. Smiles and sleepy eyes, clicking cameras, whispers and sighs, and the warmth of the sun. The mountains resplendent now in the light. The valley visible.

Annapurna range The sun kisses the highest mountains first. Sarangkot, Nepal. — *The sun kisses the highest mountains first. Sarangkot, Nepal.*

Annapurna range sunrise Sarangkot, Nepal. — *Good morning Nepal.*

A plane heads to Annapurna base camp. Sarangkot, Nepal sunrise. — *A plane heads to Annapurna base camp just after sunrise. Sarangkot, Nepal.*

*Bryan and Carol at Sarangkot Nepal for an Annapurna sunrise.*

A local pup nodded off just after sunrise. Sarangkot, Nepal. — *As we turned to walk back down the hill to our waiting bus, we were pleased to buy tiny paper cups of coffee at a stall with a dog who could have been sleep-walking. Sarangkot, Nepal.*

Walking down from Sarangkot

The bus waited for us down the hill. But, some of us decided to walk down. “Down” sounded easy, and it was a beautiful morning to be outside. I decided to take the hike. Bryan opted for the bus and a bit more sleep.

Walking down to the bus. Sarangkot, Nepal. — *Rachel and Marion walking down to the bus. Sarangkot, Nepal.*

Bryan left in the bus to go catch some more zzzzs. Sarangkot, Nepal. G Adventures purple bus. — *Bryan leaving to go catch some more zzzzs. Sarangkot, Nepal. G Adventures purple bus.*

Turns out, the two-hour walk down the mountain was a highlight of my time in Nepal. We navigated down narrow, slippery stone steps and terraced lands of coffee trees and farms. From this viewpoint high above Pokhara, we could see the lake, and the World Peace Pagoda on the far shore. It was still early and cool. The light was soft and dewey. Sleepy guard dogs huffed and puffed at us, curious goats stared, and we walked on, stepping down, down, down the steep mountainside.

We tried to walk without falling, look and photograph without slipping or stumbling. It was so very steep, and such beautiful light on the terraces. My knees and calves began to sing about halfway down, and we shed clothes with the exertion and the warmth of sunlight. It was such an amazing two hours. For the next week, I crept along like a granny suffering from the aches and pains in my legs from that hike down a mountain in Nepal…and, I’d do it again in a heartbeat!

A dog and the distant Peace Pagoda. Walking down Sarangkot. Nepal. — *A dog nodding off in the morning sun, and on the other side of the lake, the World Peace Pagoda. Walking down Sarangkot. Nepal.*

*Terraces in the morning. On the walk down Sarangkot, Nepal.*

The distant World Peace Pagoda and Pokhara as seen walking down from Sarangkot, Nepal. — *The distant World Peace Pagoda and Pokhara. Sarangkot, Nepal.*

Early morning. Walking down from Sarangkot, Nepal. — *Terraces on the walk down from Sarangkot, Nepal.*

The World Peace Pagoda

After rejoining Bryan and having a well-deserved hearty brunch and more coffee, we poked around the town, exploring the shops and the restaurants for snacks. Later, Carina and I took a taxi to the Shanti Stupa World Peace Pagoda–the building we’d seen across the lake on our morning hike.

It was a quiet and breezy afternoon up on the mountain. As custom dictates, we took off our shoes and walked clockwise around the stupa, admiring the golden Buddha carvings and the view. From here, we could see across the lake to the mountain we had hiked down this same morning. An afternoon storm was coming, the sky getting darker by the minute, the prayer flags snapping in the breeze.

On our way down, we stopped at a temple where monks gathered and pounded drums in a rhythm to match a chant. Vendors sold prayer beads, prayer flags, and incense while dogs wandered among the stalls. Despite the brewing storm, it was peaceful here on the mountain, near the very top of the world, in sweet Nepal.

*No Jumping. Respect the Silence. World Peace Pagoda. Pokhara, Nepal.*

*At the World Peace Pagoda, looking back at Sarangkot and Pokhara, Nepal.*

*Buddha at the World Peace Pagoda. Pokhara, Nepal.*

*Buddha and the Bodhi Tree. World Peace Pagoda. Pokhara, Nepal.*

*Silence and barefeet. The World Peace Pagoda. Pokhara, Nepal.*

*Butter lamps for sale at the World Peace Pagoda. Pokhara, Nepal.*

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Hello Nepal! Lumbini and Buddha

Posted March 7, 2018 by carol.fletcher@rocketmail.com

Walking into Nepal

I love going as much as arriving. Getting to Nepal from India was a lot of going, and it was a lovely day for it. By sunset, we’d be in the birthplace of Buddha, Lumbini, Nepal.

In the still-dark early morning, we left Varanasi. First, a tuk-tuk ride to the train station, followed by a six-hour train ride, before a switch to a bus for a couple of hours hurtling north. After nearly nine hours of going, we landed in the border town of Sonauli, India. We passed a hustling, bustling market area, then stopped at a tiny building for Indian departure stamps.

Thirty minutes later, we walked out of India and into a no-man’s land between two countries. Amused and thrilled to be on our feet, we dallied for photographs of the arches announcing India on one end zone, and Nepal on the other. Checked out of India, but not yet checked in to Nepal. Technically, where were we if something were to go wrong in this gap, in the cusp between this and that? Buddha eyes watched us from atop the Nepal goal post. As we walked into Nepal, the town became Belhiya.

I love walking across a border! It’s active, physical. It’s both casual and more formal. They stamp passports. Overland border crossings feel like a border crossing, a little Wild West, a bit 1800s Grand Tour. Definitely old school with a little extra zap of drama that we just don’t get anymore in airports. And here, where would one go if refused entry? Camp in the cusp?

Goodbye India. In the between. No man's land at the border crossing India to Nepal. — *Goodbye India. In the in-between. The border crossing India to Nepal.*

Hello Nepal. No-man's land at the border crossing India to Nepal. — *Hello Nepal! We walked through a no-man’s land, and under the “Welcome to Nepal” stupa with Buddha eyes, the town became Belhiya, Nepal.*

First Impression of Nepal

Listen! Nepal was QUIET! India’s honking madness was not even a football field away. But here, the streets were blessedly quiet.

Our luggage had already crossed the border on rickshaws and was now packed high atop our new pastel purple G Adventures bus with two Nepalese pilots. Time to go!

Immigration at Border Crossing into Nepal. — *Crossing into Nepal.*

The Story of Buddha

Our first stop in Nepal was Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha. During the two-hour bus ride from the border, Khush, our G Adventures Leader Extraordinaire, told us the story of “Lord Buddha”.

The man who became Buddha was born a prince. His mother, Queen Mayadevi, stopped at Lumbini on her way to her mother’s house. At Lumbini, she gave birth to a son she named Siddhartha Gautama. She dreamed he would conquer the world in one of two ways: as a king through war or as a monk.

He was a thinker and empathetic. He married and had a son. At 29, he went outside the palace to see his province. It is said that on his journey, he saw an old man and learned that growing old was part of the cycle of life. He saw a leper and sickness and learned that one can’t escape karma. Finally, he saw a dead body and learned that everyone dies. He went home depressed from all the suffering and pain he had seen.

But then, one day, he saw a poor monk who was begging for food. Despite his poverty, the monk’s face was bright, shining, and wise with enlightenment. Siddhartha decided that to get this kind of peace and knowledge in the face of the human condition, he too needed to be a monk.

Becoming Buddha

He left the palace, his wife, his child, and his possessions. He shaved his head and wandered in the jungle for five years. But nothing came to him. He met five others in pursuit of knowledge and together they meditated. To stimulate the chakras, they didn’t eat and gave pain to their bodies. One day an old lady from the untouchables caste passed by with milk in a terra cotta pot. She offered it and he drank. The five others declared him a fake monk and left him.

He decided to lead a normal life, but with meditation. He studied and lived a life of moderation, a middle way. Unsatisfied, he sat under the shade of a bodhi tree and meditated for 49 days, until he found the truth. And with that, he became Buddha, or self-enlightened. Later he found the five others near Varanasi and gave his first sermon. The five became his disciples and his teachings were passed on by word of mouth for two centuries before being written down.

A Bit about Buddhism

Essentially, the teachings of Buddha say that sufferings are caused by desires and that to overcome sufferings you must control desires. This is done by striving to have the right:

View: know that our actions and beliefs have consequences after death because death is not the end.
Intention: practice loving kindness and compassion, and contemplate suffering and our impermanence.
Speech: don’t lie, or make rude speech, don’t tell one person what another says about him/her.
Action: don’t kill or injure, don’t take what is not given, no sexual acts, no material desires.
Livelihood: beg to feed, only possess what is essential to sustain life.
Effort: generate energy, exert the mind, and strive to prevent and eliminate evil and unwholesome mental states.
Mindfulness: be present, never be absent minded, be conscious of what one is doing.
Concentration: give up pleasure and pain, happiness and sadness, in order to enter a place in the mind of pure equanimity and mindfulness.

This is drastically oversimplified, as is the Pancha Sila. But the kindness and good intentions are clear and universal, no matter how deep one gets into religion.

Lumbini, the Birthplace of Buddha

We arrived at Lumbini in the late afternoon, walking into the park that seemed to be growing prayer flags. Here, there are ruins of ancient monasteries, a sacred Bodhi Tree, the Ashokan pillar marking a prince’s birth, and the Mayadevi Temple, where Buddha’s birthplace is located. It is a large park-like complex with many peaceful places to sit and contemplate life. But first, you must remove your shoes.

People and monks from many countries come here to meditate. Chanting pilgrims surround the ancient bodhi tree which is draped in thousands of prayer flags. We briefly walked through the main building where Buddha’s birthplace is marked by excavated stones under bullet-proof glass and offerings. And then spent our own quiet time near the tree and wandering the grounds.

What peace there in the dying light of the sun, prayer flags blowing in the breeze, and the sing-song chants of the monks. I would have liked to spent the day there, watching, listening, and maybe doing a little meditating.

*Prayer Flags and the sun. Lumbini Nepal*

Mayadevi Temple--the birthplace of Buddha. Lumbini, Nepal. — *Mayadevi Temple–the birthplace of Buddha. Lumbini, Nepal.*

*The sacred Bodhi tree. Lumbini, Nepal.*

*Offerings at the foot of the Pillar of Ashoka, Lumbini, Nepal.*

Candle wax remnants. Lumbini, Nepal. — *Candle wax and incense remnants. Lumbini, Nepal.*

Prayer flags and Sunset at Lumbini. Nepal — *Sunset at Lumbini. Nepal.*

The Pancha Sila -- the 5 precepts of Buddhism. Lumbini, Nepal. — *The Pancha Sila — the 5 precepts of Buddhism. Lumbini, Nepal.*

Prayer Flags and Laundry. Lumbini, Nepal. — *Prayer flags, barbed wire, and laundry. Lumbini, Nepal.*

*Peaceful breeze and prayer flags, Lumbini Nepal.*

Peaceful Nepal

My first and lasting impression of Nepal was of peace. Calm, repetitive chanting, singing bowls and chimes, cool breezes, flower mandalas, and the surrounding mountains.

Purple flower petal mandala. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal. — *Purple flower petals in a floating mandala. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal.*

Yellow flower mandala--a universe floating. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal. — *Yellow flower mandala–a universe floating. Hotel Club Denovo, Butwal, Nepal.*

The mountain view from our Hotel room. Butwal, Nepal. — *The mountains as viewed from our Hotel room. Butwal, Nepal.*

*The lane behind our hotel, Butwal Nepal.*

Butwal, Lumbini to Barauli

*Buddha as an enlightened adult. Nepal.*

The next day, we left for a four-hour bus ride to Barauli. Along the way, we were almost hit by a Bob Marley-decorated truck. The truck passed a car while being passed by our bus, and came about one inch from hitting our bus at the exact spot where my elbow was resting against the window. The drivers got out and yelled at each other. Our driver fetched a policeman, but the truck did not stop when the policeman flagged him over. The policeman got on his motorcycle to go get the truck. We saw them pulled over down the road and stopped again so our bus driver could join more debate. Khush said the truck driver would likely be fined on-the-spot, and/or taken to jail.

Near Lumbini, we stopped to see another golden statue of Buddha. Khush explained that statues of a bald short-haired Buddha are of him yet-to-be-enlightened, while curly, long or pony-tailed hair is after he’s enlightened. Despite the fact that Nepal is 81% Hindu and only 9% Buddhist, Buddha seems to be everywhere in Nepal.

The Nepalese Thali Set

*A Thali Set. A delicious and filling traditional meal in Nepal.*

The bus kept rolling. I could ride on that bus forever, watching the mountains pass. I didn’t want to get there, no matter where “there” was.

Nearing our Barauli Homestay in Chitwan National Park, we stopped to eat at a hillside mom-and-pop restaurant. They served us a traditional Nepalese Thali Set, similar to the meal we’d had at the cooking class in Orchha, India.

A “thali set” offers all six flavor profiles—sweet, salty, bitter, sour, astringent, and spicy–served all on one metal plate. This veggie plate had rice, lentil soup, greens, a curry, and several unidentified but dang-spicy fried veggies. Khush said, this meal “Will cost you $3 on your pocket. You will love it.”

And we did!

Anyone have recommendations for where to find an authentic Thali Set in Chicago? Let me know!

*Mirror at a rural restaurant in Nepal.*

Curtain and shoes Rural restaurant in Nepal. — *Rural restaurant in Nepal.*

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Select photos are available on Etsy.

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Up is Down: Sailing the Nile

The Felucca

Sailing on the Nile: Life in another time

Docked for the Night

Sleeping on the Nile

Earth as Designed, or Progress?

The Sun and Moon over Kom Ombo

Duality…Sobek & Horus

The Writing on the Wall

Hijinks

Progress?

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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To Abu Simbel

Mythic in Scale

Mythic for the Ancient Architects’ Precision

Lost and Found

Abu Simbel Moves

Second Temple for Nefertari

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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The Great Pyramid of Giza

Gateways to the Afterlife

The Pyramids, the Camels and the Sahara

Please, please, don’t ride the camels

Mark Twain and The Sphinx

Lady or Lion?

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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Cairo’s Mosques and Churches

Al-Nasser Mohammed Ibn Kalawoun, Mosque of the Citadel

The Alabaster Mosque of Muhammad Ali Pasha

Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan

Intermission

The Hanging Church

St Sergius & St Bacchus Church

Jewish Cairo? “No Jews are left in Egypt”, says our guide.

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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Portents

And that was that.

And then?

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Back in Athens

And then, we flew home: ATH – LHR – ORD

Around the world

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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The sweet little village of Lefkes

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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Blue Star Ferry from Santorini to Paros

Gypsies?

Naoussa Paros Arrival

Greek Independence Day

Paros Days

Not Tourist Season Yet

Paros Marble

Storm on Paros

Parikia

Panagia Ekatontapiliani’s Leaning Trees

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

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Taking the bus to Oia and Perissa on Santorini

The Greek White and Blue and Santorini’s Volcano Architecture

Finding THAT view

The tip of Oia

Perissa on a cold windy day

Dust storm

Animals / Santorini

Moving on

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Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer and blogger living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.