Wandering, again. Daydreaming. Bemused by random ideas and the weight of options. Doing nothing of consequence. Wasting time. Creating little.
I’ve been trying to sort out life. What it means to be mid-50s with an all-consuming career behind me. What it means to be post my life goal of taking an extended trip around-the-world. I fret at night. We’re running through our savings like bath water. Big questions hover: What’s next? What will I do when I grow…uh…old? How will I busy my mind and hands, and feed the coffers? What will give me purpose and happiness? What will I do to fill my days?
Sara Davidson labeled this transitory phase of life “the narrows.”The name fits. I wander through it–sometimes paralyzed by indecision. Sometimes lazy. Listing with the wind. Observing. Listening. Waiting for inspiration, for energy, for some direction to show itself. Wandering until things fall into place–or the place falls apart.
Spring
I’ve been here in the narrows for awhile, with little fits and starts here and there. After our trip, I lagged in the doldrums for months. Then in March, there was an impetuous to move.
On the first day of Spring, I started work at a garden center. I work outside. I’m tan, more fit, and have fewer aches and pains. I bike to work. I’m learning and doing something I love. I feel good at the end of a day of physical labor. Office worries don’t follow me home. It’s good.
At the end of May, we adopted a little dog, a foster we fell in love with despite our efforts not to. He is eight-point-one pounds of gumption and guile. He wanders with me. Together, we watch the birds, the squirrels, the clouds. We dally on the streets talking to neighbors. It’s good.
What I haven’t done this summer is make photos or write. That’s not good.
Dog Days
These dog days unnerve me. Summer’s stagnant heat and humidity exhaust me. Restlessness sets in. I long for motion, for a fresh breeze. I wait for cool mornings and clarity. Is it just summer, or life’s road narrowing?
Time flies. My memory slips. Life is fragile. I want to photograph more, write more, create more, and do something with my ideas and vague notions. I want to wander with intention. What a paradox.
So, with this post, I commit to myself and anyone reading that I’ll go on a weekly creative outing with camera and notebook to see what I see, to record what I love, to remember what I feel emotions for, and maybe to create something that is satisfying. I invite you to walk with me.
Tennessee Cedar during the dog days of Summer 2019. 9/1/19.
Thank you for reading
Do you have similar feelings about transitions in life, about creative doldrums? How do you handle it? Any advice?
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com. Select photos are for sale on Etsy.
When the cloud cleared, we were already low over the green and red earth of Cuba. The plane tilted left into a turn that positioned us to land in Havana’s Jose Martí airport in about three minutes. I could see that the streets were wet, rain drops now skittered across the plane window. Like a dream window to the past, I could see a few of those old cars moving down a road in the distance, and as we neared our landing, I saw two dogs drinking from a puddle on a dirt road. It’s been three years since I last visited Cuba. Many things have changed, and many have not.
A dog wanders down a street in Centro Habana, Cuba.
When I last saw Cuba
When I last saw Cuba, I was not part of The Aniplant Project (TAP), a non-profit dedicated to helping the animals of Cuba. I had yet to publish the photo essay and article that TAP’s Les and Charlene Inglis read, that gave them the idea to contact me to join them. The last time I visited Cuba, Fidel was alive, Raul was President, and Obama had not yet visited. The place had been mobbed with USA visitors after Obama’s trip, and now, not as many. The last time I walked in Havana in March 2015, veterinary clinics were open. Many pets were receiving at least basic care, and were being spayed/neutered and vaccinated in proper clinics.
A cat waits her turn for spaying in Havana Cuba
Fast forward to 2018
Since 2015, some big things have changed. But let’s skip the politics and talk about the ugly change that impacted the animals.
Veterinary clinics across Havana were closed in Spring 2017. Some people say it was because of improper medical waste disposal, others say it was because medicines were disappearing from people hospitals. Regardless of the reason, it has had a negative impact on the health of animals. Keep in mind, there are still no animal shelters in Cuba.
Animals are turned out to the streets when people can’t or won’t care for them. Street cat populations have swelled. Every corner in Havana that has a trash dumpster will also have at least 2-3 cats and maybe a litter of kittens living there. More visitors to Cuba are writing us to report the sad, sick state of the animals on the streets, more tourists have seen the cruel treatment of animals in Santeria rituals, and Zoonosis round-ups. Without veterinary clinics, fewer animals have been sterilized, vaccinated, and treated for fleas/ticks, mange, or parasites. And as a result of fewer sterilizations in the last year, more animals are going hungry and suffering on the streets. It is overwhelming to see.
Cuba is working on reopening veterinary clinics in Havana. It is taking a lot of time, and paperwork. It is frustrating for many and requires patience from all.
On-going care for the animals
Despite the setbacks, Aniplant continues to do sterilization campaigns around Havana. While the clinic was closed like all the others (and because ~20 dogs are sheltered there), it does not prevent Aniplant from going into neighborhoods to spay/neuter pets and area strays. Sterilization work continues because of Nora Garcia, President of Aniplant and because of the resources supplied by TAP Animal Project (formerly The Aniplant Project).
TAP Animal Project believes that the number one way to end the suffering of animals on the streets is through mass sterilization campaigns. Why? Consider this:
Female cats can breed three times a year, and have on average 4 kittens per litter. That’s another 12 cats in just one year from just one cat. Multiply that by the kittens having babies who have babies, etc…and in just seven years, that’s more than 400,000 new cats. Where will they go?
Maybe you are a dog person? Female dogs can breed twice a year and have 6-10 puppies per litter. In seven years, that’s about 97,000 new dogs. Where will they go?
Without sterilization campaigns, the population of animals will multiply and multiply and multiply, ad nauseam. More and more innocent dogs and cats will be left to fend for themselves and to suffer harsh lives and cruel deaths. The best long-term solution is spay/neuter, and Cuba needs more of it.
A TAP Animal Project + Aniplant sterilization campaign for 12 cats on May 26. The blind 92-year-old grandma slept with kittens on her feet.
TAP Animal Project supports ANIPLANT’s spay/neuter mission
TAP recently changed names in order to expand sterilization campaigns beyond Aniplant. The Aniplant Project became TAP Animal Project in May 2018, and continues to be a 501(c)(3) non-profit, incorporated in Florida, and operating from Chicago. TAP believes that with supporters’ continued help, there is capacity to do more mass sterilizations in Cuba. It’s not going to be easy. There are many regulations around the importation of anesthesia and who in Cuba can receive it. There are issues of facilities, of veterinarians, of certifications, and of access to other needs like TNR traps, transportation, antibiotics, etc. It’s Cuba. It’s complicated. Change is rarely easy. But for healthy pets, healthy people, and the happiness of our animal-loving souls, it’s worth it.
A veterinarian spays a cat in a TAP Animal Project + Aniplant small house campaign while other cats and kittens watch and wait.Nora Garcia cuddles a happy puppy who is temporarily staying at Aniplant in Havana CubaThis skittish, one-eyed dog lives in the stairwell of an apartment building near the Malecón in Havana Cuba.This little kitten wandered up alone in the streets of old Havana. Skin and bones, timid and hungry.
Thank you for reading
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, tree-hugging, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.Select Cuba photos are available for purchase on Etsy.
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.
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!
Carol and Lucy in Death Valley’s Badwater BasinBryan and Carol in Nepal’s Annapurna rangeBryan on a boat on the Mekong, Phnom Penh, CambodiaCarol on the night train to Varanasi, India Lucy on the viewing deck at Niagara Falls, NYGoing old is a bit like traveling on this single lane, one direction road in Death Valley.
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.
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.
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 sea and the terraced fields…looking out from the church yard. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.The old soul of Lefkes. Paros, Greece.Corner house, garden and tree. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.Porch pergola with woven awning. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.Garage, garden, and windmill. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.Looking down to the church of Lefkes. Paros, Greece.Lanes and steps. Lefkes, Paros, Greece.Up the steps. 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.
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.
Children parade for Greek Independence Day in Naoussa, Paros. Greece.
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 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.
Gray doors on a lane in Parikia. Paros, Greece.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.A modest garden. Parikia, Paros. Greece.
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.
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.
An evening view on Santorini. Greece.
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.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.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.Love knots. 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!
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 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. Between Fira and 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.
Fira, Santorini during a dust storm. Bryan is waving from our balcony in the bottom left of this photo. Greece.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 bells, crosses, and a fine layer of Saharan sand dust. Oia, 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–looking towards Fira, Santorini. Greece.The Greek flag flies on Santorini, Greece.
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 was the sixth of six countries on our around-the-world trip. After all the time we spent dreaming about a long trip, we weren’t prepared–we bought our RTW flight tickets super fast, made arrangements for the first couple of countries and the group tour of India/Nepal, and the rest came together by the seat of our pants. Greece suffered the brunt of that approach. When we left Chicago, we had zero arrangements for Greece. Thanks to our friend Helen’s recommendation, Himalaya Travel in Athens arranged all our of transportation and hotels for Greece. We gave them our wishes and a few parameters and they did everything, even delivering the Blue Star ferry tickets to our Athens hotel when we arrived. After Athens, Santorini was next on our itinerary.
Ferry to Santorini
The trip to Santorini was a seven-and-a-half-hour ferry ride, 200 miles south through the Aegean Sea.
What a long, beautiful day! The ferry left Athens at 7:25 a.m. and docked in Santorini around 3:00 p.m. It was one of those days with crisp blue skies and an occasional cotton-ball cloud. A perfect day for daydreaming and reflecting. We passed Ios–the shining white buildings perched on green hills down to the sea. The ferry churned on through the deep blue water, with a cool breeze, salt spray, and a feeling like the motion should never end.
Ios as seen from the Ferry from Athens to Santorini. Greece.
At last, we passed into the opening of Santorini’s bay. White buildings perched high on the edges of the cliffs. Was this a dream? It didn’t seem real. As the ferry’s loud alarm signaled the positioning of the ferry to the dock, a crowd gathered at the boat’s garage door. No one wanted to waste a second of time here in this paradise. Amid the rush of people onto Santorini, we found a driver, piled in, and went up the island mountain also known as Thira (or Thera) to the capital of Fira.
Looking out from Fira. Santorini was created when a volcano blew apart. What remains is the collapsed caldera.
About Santorini, also known as Thira or Thera
Santorini is the remnant of a volcano. In 1600 BC Santorini exploded in what scientists say may have been one of the largest volcanic eruptions on earth. The C-shaped chain of islands is what remains. The people of Santorini have built into the hard edges, warrens of tiny homes and narrow lanes spill down the rims of the island. Our driver drove us up, up, up, stopping at a church at the crest of a hill. We were met there by the manager of the Thireas Hotel who escorted us down a hundred steps to reception and our room. Good thing he came to meet us. It would have taken us an hour to find the place amid the many little paths and patios.
We had an incredible view from our room and balcony. It was not yet sunbathing weather, in fact it was too cold and windy to sit out there for long. But we bundled up and sat staring out to sea. It’s not hard to imagine this as a caldera. It is hard to take your eyes away from the spectacle of the cliffside houses and the drop-dead gorgeous view.
At Thireas Hotel. Fira, Santorini, Greece.The view from our room. Thira, Santorini, Greece.Fira, looking north to Oia. Santorini Greece.
Pre-Season on Santorini
Our hotel recommended a lovely place called Theoni’s Kitchen for our first meal on the island. We made our way over around sundown and were the only ones there. We gorged on the delicious food–stuffed peppers, potatoes, and fava (which is similar to hummus, but Greek), wine, and a pastry dessert.
Later in the evening, we walked around the narrow streets. Santorini was not yet full of tourists. It was quiet walking through the little town’s steps and lanes. Shops weren’t open, but there was a lot of activity. Residents were cleaning, building, and painting with the traditional blue and white in preparation for the hoards of tourists coming any day now. When asked when the season began, they would say only “soon”, “tomorrow”, or “Friday”. Turns out, none of those days was it. And that was perfectly fine with us.
We found the 588 steps up from the Old Port, labeled so tortured climbers could set their expectations. Today, cable cars also make the trek up instead of the poor donkeys. But the Old Port is not used much anymore.
An evening view on Santorini. Greece.A cat at twilight. Santorini, Greece.Counting the steps from the old port up to Fira. Santorini, Greece.
Mornings in Fira, Santorini
At dawn, we walked down from our hotel, around the narrow passages and small spaces. We looked for the buildings we could see from our room and found this old church. The view of the sea was breathtaking.
A barge approaches the dock in Santorini. Greece.A bird on a cross. Fira, Santorini, Greece.Bryan looking out to sea. Santorini, Greece.
Bells ring the hours from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., the chimes echoing through the streets and mountainside. I wondered what this place was like before it became a tourist destination. I realize that it is the height of hypocrisy, but why does tourism development seem to destroy so much–often leaving none of the original way-of-life and natural charm behind?
Near the bus stop, Santorini’s street dogs look for food in the trash. Fira, Santorini, Greece.One-earred pirate dog who belonged with this shop. Anyone going through the passage with food was followed, stared at, and otherwise enticed to give pirate dog a little something to pass. Fira, Santorini, Greece.Panorama of Santorini. Greece.The ferry–looking tiny from here–coming into the caldera of Santorini. Greece.
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 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 to the Temple of Hephaestus. 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. Athens Greece.Restoring the columns on the Parthenon. 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 standing on the Parthenon. Athens, Greece.Columns to the sky. 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.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 in the cheaper seats at the Theater of Dionysus. Athens, Greece.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/Acropolis. Athens, Greece.
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.
And then there were two. Our group tour of India and Nepal finished; we were alone in Kathmandu. We took the time to do laundry, read while lingering over coffee, and get caught up on news, photo back-ups, and journals. Also, we walked around the Thamel area—seeing much earthquake damage. And we spent time at some of Kathmandu’s stupas.
The Boudhanath Stupa
First on our list, we visited the Boudhanath Stupa (also spelled Boudha or Bodhnath). This is a massive structure near Kathmandu’s airport, one of the largest stupas in the world. Once on a major ancient trade route, Tibetan merchants used to rest and pray here. When China invaded Tibet in the 1950s, many Tibetan refugees came to Nepal and decided to live around Boudhanath. Today, it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and is surrounded by a Tibetan community and many convents.
Buddha’s eyes on top of the Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.Around the Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.
The legend of the Boudhanath Stupa
The history of the biggest stupa is a confusing tale of the hunt for water, drought, sacrifice, dew drops, and chickens. Here’s my abstract: A king wanted to build a watering hole. But there was no water where he wanted to build it. He consulted an astrologer who suggested sacrificing a male who embodied the 32 perfections (the same for choosing the little girl Living Goddess). Only two men in the realm met the 32 criteria…the King and his son. The King decided he himself should be the sacrifice. The king told his son to sacrifice a sleeping man without looking at his face. After the prince did so, he realized he had killed his own father. It’s unclear if the king’s sacrifice brought water.
The prince, however, was plagued with regret and guilt. He asked priests for ways to obtain salvation. They told him to release a flying hen from the sacrifice spot, and to build a shrine where the hen landed. The chicken landed where the stupa is today. As they built the stupa, a drought ensued and locals had to collect dew drops to survive. There are stories of female goddesses residing in the spot and chicken-keepers visiting–and in the end, it’s become a super-sacred stupa.
Visiting the Boudhanath Stupa
Like all stupas in Nepal, this giant white mandala has Buddha eyes, an eyebrow curtain, and prayer flags strung to the top spire. A surrounding deck lets visitors walk along the roofline. At ground level, the structure has 147 niches of five prayer wheels each, plus the bells between. In the back, there is a large space filled with pallets for pilgrims to prostrate themselves. All around the large stupa are alcoves with large prayer wheels, merchants selling prayer beads and religious paraphernalia, convents, restaurants, pigeons, dogs, and people.
Pilgrims come to prostrate themselves on the pallets behind Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.
We sat and watched people circle the stupa clockwise, fingering their Tibetan-Buddhist prayer beads–108 smooth bodhi tree beads with tassels. There was an old monk near the entrance, folded-up and sitting in a niche, bestowing blessings when asked by bowing head-to-head. Sometimes in family groups, most often solo, people circled. Monks, novice monks, and regular pilgrims. Dogs too. It was a calm and fascinating morning, observing there at the stupa.
We climbed up narrow stairs to a restaurant and enjoyed lunch on a rooftop overlooking the stupa. A breeze, a view, momo dumplings and orange juice. Yum.
A dog rests while pilgrims make clockwise circuits around Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.Bells and vermillion/marigold markings at the Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.Houses around the Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.A giant prayer wheel at Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.An airplane leaves KTM airport, over Buddha’s watchful eyes. Boudhanath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.
Return to Swayambhunath Stupa…on a Sunny Day!
We returned to the Monkey Temple on a sunny day. It looked completely different than it did in the rain just a few days before. Today, we climbed the 365 steep steps at the main entrance…slowly.
365 steps to Swayambhunath Stupa, Kathmandu, Nepal.
Up top, we looked at the places we’d stood in the rain, at the alcoves we’d hidden under. We made a few more clockwise walks, taking in all the sights we’d missed before. And again, we lingered to observe the rituals. Clockwise circling, whispering chants, leaving offerings of flowers and bread, lighting flames, spinning prayer wheels and ringing bells.
Buddha’s eyes on a cloudless day. Swayambhunath Stupa, The Monkey Temple. Kathmandu, Nepal.A grotto for offerings at Swayambhunath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.Prayer flags and prayer wheels at Swayambhunath Stupa. The Monkey Temple. Kathmandu, Nepal.Lighting fires at Swayambhunath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.Butter oil lamps and candle offerings at Swayambhunath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal.Watchful Monkey. Swayambhunath Stupa, The Monkey Temple. Kathmandu, Nepal.
Monkeys at the Swayambhunath Stupa
There were many visitors–and animals who live here. Dogs slept in the sun and shade. The pigeons pecked around and cooed. And the monkeys scouted for easy pickings. Stupidly, I forgot myself and carried a half-finished Coke out of a shop. Within a minute, a monkey locked eyes on the plastic bottle and ran towards us. Alarmed, I tossed it to him, half expecting him to catch it. It hit the ground and rolled, the carbonation clearly agitated inside. He couldn’t twist off the cap, so instead he chewed a hole at the bottom. The first puncture released some spewing Coke which attracted a baby monkey. The two of them licked at the stream flowing to the ground. Most of the Coke was lost. And the little monkey belched.
Curious thoughts ran through my mind that day. Monkeys eat the offerings. Dogs wear marigold necklaces. Candles burn. Squeaky prayer wheels spin. Bells ring. Prayer flags whip in the wind. And beyond is this expansive view of Kathmandu. There is an innate calmness about the place, the people. Despite the traffic, the earthquake damage, the thieving monkeys, it was serene here. I was sad to be leaving Nepal tomorrow.
Pigeons rest on the shady side of the stupa. The Monkey Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal.Back steps at Swayambhunath Stupa. Kathmandu, Nepal. When we visited in the rain a few days before, none of this was set up. This passageway to the back parking area was a river waterfall that day.Marigolds adorn Prayer Wheels. Swayambhunath Stupa, the Monkey Temple. Kathmandu, Nepal.
Leaving Nepal
After a filling breakfast at Hotel Fuji, we headed by taxi to KTM airport for a long day of travel. Bryan stocked us up on snacks for the flights. I was near the end of a book about the Little Princes of Nepal and was looking forward to the quiet time on the airplane. We waited only a short while before being called with a hand gesture to the gate. We followed a line of people out onto the tarmac, and climbed the steps into our Qatar Airways plane bound for Athens via Doha.
As the plane lifted off, I saw the Boudhanath Stupa, then the Himalayas in the distance just before the plane turned away. Namaste, dear Nepal. Calm Nepal. Namaste.
Thamel dog. Our neighbor and friend, we saw this old man every day–in this same spot, almost always snoozing. Kathmandu, Nepal.
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.
The morning after arriving in Kathmandu, we had one final activity planned with most of our G Adventures group tour. We were going on a scenic flight to see Mount Everest and the mighty Himalayas. And we’d spend another couple of hours with the last two of our group, wandering Thamel and riding out to see Bhaktapur.
Mount Everest and the Kathmandu Airport
Along the trip, our G Adventures guide, Khush, talked about the majestic Himalayas and Mount Everest. “Everest is growing. If you want to climb, you must go now,” he said.
Currently at 29,029 feet–nearly five-and-a-half miles above sea level–Everest grows about a half-inch taller each year as the Indian and Asian tectonic plates continue to collide, squeezing and pushing the Himalayas up. At the summit of Everest, there is no step higher in the world. I will never climb Everest. But I was thrilled to have the opportunity to see it. We got up pre-dawn and arrived at the busy airport before coffee.
There was some confusion at the ticket counter. Mistakenly, our group had been split onto two different flights. As we sorted it out, we heard screaming from above–a family of monkeys yelled at each other in the rafters of the airport. Finally, with tickets in hand, we wandered in a sleepy gaggle over to a shop for coffee and snacks. We had about an hour to wait for our flight.
March 12, 2018: Sunrise at KTM, Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan International Airport. Nepal.
Go Time!
As we sat with our coffees and cookies, Bryan headed to the bathroom. Suddenly, after only about 15 minutes, we were called to board. I ran through the airport towards the men’s bathroom. Thankfully, I saw him exiting on the other side of the big room, screamed his name, and he came running.
We showed our tickets, boarded a bus, and were transported out across the tarmac at dawn. It was foggy, hazy, pink. We stopped at a small, pointy-nosed, green and white, two-propellor plane, and began exiting, only to be turned back to the bus. The plane was not ready? The airport wasn’t ready? The fog? It was unclear. But we sat for only five minutes, and then were signaled to exit the bus and board the Yeti plane.
Without further ado, we belted ourselves in–window seats for all!–and the plane began taxiing. The Yeti stewardesses walked the aisle with baskets, offering us cotton balls and hard candy before take-off.
Hello Himalayas!
Within minutes, we were high above Kathmandu, and rising above the fog. We could see snow-capped mountains in the distance. Soon, mountains were all around, oh-so-close to the plane windows. The stewardesses began pointing out the windows on the port side of the plane. We would each be signaled to go for our turn in the cockpit!
In the cockpit, I was blinded by the field of mountains ahead, glistening in the morning sun. The Himalayas! Majestic. Massive. Mysterious. Mind-blowing. Snow-covered peaks, broken by sheer rock sides, dark crevices, deep valleys, and ridges as sharp as knives. I was mesmerized. Already, the stewardess was tapping me on the back, my cockpit time was nearly up. Oh no! I hadn’t even taken a photograph yet! I leaned down between the pilots. “There are many mountains! Which one is Everest?!” I wanted to be sure. The pilot made a V, pointed to the left finger, and said in English, “On right, with trail.” Of course! Instantly I saw Everest, toying with the jet stream like a kid sticking a finger in a water hose. A trail of blowing snow smokes off the top almost continuously. I took three shots from the cockpit before my turn was over.
From the cockpit. Mt. Everest in the distance, with the banner cloud. Flight over the Himalayas. Nepal.After we turned back towards Kathmandu, I got my closest view of Mt. Everest from my seat. The summit sticks into the jet stream, making a near continuous trail of blowing snow. Flight over the Himalayas. Nepal.Flying over the top of the world. The Himalayas, Nepal.
The 75-minute flight included a champagne toast as we headed back to Kathmandu. We were on top of the world!
Walk in Kathmandu’s Durbar Square
Rachel, Marion, and Khush had left early that day for home (without going to see Everest). The remaining ten of us ate brunch together at Gaia and walked into Durbar Square in the late morning.
This is another thing I enjoy with a good group of travelers, wandering together, but separate. We followed one another in a long strand through the crowded Kathmandu streets. The instigator led us, following a map to Durbar Square. Naturally, the photographers brought up the rear. But we were in visual contact with each other, smiling, nodding, indicating things to see, turns to make. I love this. This independent but shared experience, the camaraderie.
Head down, leaning into a headband to carry a load of vegetables through the streets of Kathmandu. Nepal.Red iron work temple door in Durbar Square, Kathmandu, Nepal.A temple / stupa near Kathmandu’s Durbar Square. Nepal.Bicycle rickshaws wait for patrons. Kathmandu, Nepal.Marionettes in Kathmandu, Nepal.The 4-way test of the things we think, say, or do. Kathmandu, Nepal.Sarees displayed for sale, among wires. Kathmandu, Nepal.
The Living Goddess
The 3-year-old Living Goddess of Nepal lives behind that door. Kathmandu.
We found the Royal Palace of the Living Goddess, and entered the small courtyard. The Living Goddess, or Kumari, is a young girl picked from obscurity to be worshipped until she reaches puberty.
Eligible girls are from a select caste. She must be in excellent health and must not have lost any teeth. Next, she must exhibit the 32 perfections of a goddess, including “Eyelashes like a cow, very black hair and eyes, a voice clear like a duck’s, and tiny feet and hands.” Her horoscope is considered. Next, her fearlessness and serenity is tested by placing her alone overnight in a room with the severed heads of sacrificed animals. Once a girl meets the criteria and passes the tests, they deem her the embodiment of the goddess and she walks into the palace. It is the last time her feet will touch the ground until she reaches puberty and leaves the palace. During the time the girl represents the goddess, she is carried everywhere.
It is considered very good luck to even glimpse the Kumari looking from the palace windows. At meetings with her, it is auspicious if she is “silent and impassive”. Once the girl reaches puberty, she is retired and the process begins to find a new Kumari. The current Living Goddess was only three-years-old when she was installed in 2017.
A singing bowl
I’ve always loved the singing bowls used in yoga and meditation classes. And I decided to find one while in Nepal.
I stepped into a shop looking for the perfect bowl–a deep tone, not shiny, and a hearty size. The shopkeeper demonstrated how to get sound with a pestle pressed against the outside rim of the bowl, and brought bowl after bowl to sing for me. At last, a rather plain and dark one resonated low and smooth. The sound vibration continued for more than two minutes as we stood silent, listening, smiling.
This bowl was made from nine metals, copper and tin (the bell metals), plus gold, silver, mercury, iron, nickel, zinc, and lead. It had been hand-hammered for its distinct sound, said to be the echoed chants of the monk who made the bowl. The shopkeeper placed the bowl on my palm and handed me the wooden pestle. He demonstrated a flat palm (like safely offering an apple to a horse), pushed my jacket sleeve up my wrist, and motioned for me to give it sound. With his patient instruction, on the third try the bowl came to life. A powerful vibration began on my palm; I felt it before I heard the deep, clear sound growing stronger.
I found my 9-metal singing bowl here. This gentleman is a kind, helpful, and incredibly patient shopkeeper. Om Supreme Bud Handicrafts, Kathmandu, Nepal.Hindu prayer beads, made from the Bodhi tree. Kathmandu, Nepal.
The plane crash
In the afternoon, the remaining four of us returned to the hotel to find out that a plane had crashed at Kathmandu’s airport. Forty-nine people were dead. BS-211 had been approaching from Bangladesh and turned the wrong way. Air traffic cleared the runways as the pilot seemed disoriented, nearly flying into the Nepal Airlines hanger and the air traffic control tower. But in a few moments, the plane crashed on open land near the runways, immediately catching on fire from spilled fuel. Miraculously 22 of the 71 passengers survived.
Six of our group were at the airport at the time, waiting for flights home. Thankfully, no one on the ground was injured. Our group only had to deal with was the long delay to reopen the runways, and the small airport ran out of food.
Bhaktapur and the Earthquake Damage
One more of our group left for home, and the final three of us took a taxi to Bhaktapur, a World Heritage Site with a Golden Gate and the 55-Window Palace. The site was badly damaged in an April 2015 7.9 earthquake.
The town of Bhaktapur sits on what once was the main caravan trade route between Tibet and India. In ancient times it was a rich and prosperous town. Known for the palaces, intricate wood windows and carvings, yogurt, and pottery, the town is a fascinating place to wander.
The Golden Gate opens to the Royal Palace’s inner courtyard, a once vast compound until a 1934 earthquake leveled all but a few of its 99 courtyards. Even more walls fell in the 2015 quake. We walked around the complex, admiring the intricate buildings and the diligent re-construction going on. The alleyways and plazas offer many things to see. I think I could have sat around all day, just watching the world go by.
Bhaktapur Square. Kathmandu, Nepal.Intricate wooden doors in Bhaktapur, Kathmandu, Nepal.In a courtyard pool in Bhaktapur. Nepal, Kathmandu.Streets of Bhaktapur. Kathmandu, Nepal.Friends. Bhaktapur Square. Kathmandu, Nepal.Holding back the walls. Bhaktapur, Kathmandu, Nepal.Broomstick and doorway. Bhaktapur. Nepal.Reconstructing a temple after the April 2015 earthquake. Bhaktapur. Kathmandu, Nepal.Reconstruction in Bhaktapur. Kathmandu, Nepal.The Golden Gate. Bhaktapur, Kathmandu, Nepal.Bhaktapur Temple, steps. Kathmandu, Nepal.Bricks stacked and organized for reconstruction. Bhaktapur, Nepal, Kathmandu.In Bhaktapur’s main square. Kathmandu, Nepal.
A sunny mandala of marigolds and daisies. Kathmandu, Nepal.
And then, there were two
The next day, it was back to just us two. We had a final few days in Kathmandu, before continuing on an around-the-world trip of a lifetime.
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.
After a couple of days in Pokhara, it was time to move on. Kathmandu was the next and final destination for our G Adventures group tour. Seven in our 12-person group decided to fly from Pokhara to Kathmandu. Traffic is notoriously bad on the road through the valley, and the eight-hour drive would leave them little time to see Kathmandu since they had early flights home the next day.
Our G Adventures Group all together in our Nepal bus for the last time.Only five of us, and all of the luggage, were on the bus to Kathmandu, so there was room to stretch out. Here, Bryan, Sophie, and Russ make use of the middle jump seats.
In Pokhara, we filled up on the hotel’s breakfast of fried potatoes with curry masala (with…is that coriander?), plus hard-boiled eggs, and coffee. And then we loaded up the bus bound for Kathmandu. We dropped the five Brits, the Canadian, and the New Yorker at the Pokhara airport, and the remaining five of us, plus Khush, got back in the bus with ALL the luggage to make the day-long ride to Kathmandu.
There was enough room now for each of us to lay down across a row of seats for a snooze if we’d wanted to. I chose to sit and watch Nepal go by. We stopped for gasoline at a one-pump station (an unmarked pump that sat nearly in the road), bathroom breaks, a little walk to shake our legs, and to buy some oranges, chips, and coffee. Back in the bus, and onward, upward.
Big Scenery, Little Moments
I don’t know what it is about these bus rides, I love them. I could ride forever, watching the world go by. It’s like a movie. Big scenery and little moments glimpsed, in a never-ending stream. I sat, camera-ready, mesmerized by the view.
Was that a bus stop or a stupa? Laundry or prayer flags? Kids walked to school in uniforms–girls in dark skirts to their knees, knee socks, sweaters, and long braids with the biggest, crispest, most perfectly white ribbons. Two boys threw stones at a flinching cow who continued picking in a trash pile. Four people and a dog all stood with their hands (or front paws) on a balcony railing–all looking in the same direction with curiosity. A seamstress sat high above the road working her sewing machine–her work station open to the breeze, the view and the dust.
The road to Kathmandu was rough. Construction, potholes, crooked, and up, up, up. A reminder that we were close to the top of the world. A reminder that this area is earthquake prone. They were still patching damage from a massive quake in 2015.
Sad Cargo
And then we saw a disturbing sight: buffalos tied by their tails and noses, and stuffed into a small truck like sardines for travel on these rough, crooked roads. They could barely move without pulling their noses, tails, or stepping on one another as they shifted from the truck’s motion on the switchbacked and potholed road.
Our driver eventually found an opportunity to pass this sad cargo, these suffering oxen. And as we passed, I could see their eyes shift–they couldn’t turn their heads–to look at our purple bus. Because I couldn’t do anything to help them, I was ashamed to meet their eyes. What cruelty humans inflict on others’ lives.
A cargo of oxen tied by their tails and noses. On the road to Kathmandu, Nepal.
To the Heavens
Seeing the oxen dampened my mood. No matter where one goes in the world, there is cruelty and inhumane treatment of animals. Here we were going up, up, up, seemingly to the heavens. And in those moments, I hoped, wished, and prayed so hard that karma exists, and that hell is real and for the people who destroy the earth, harm the environment, hurt each other, and turn animals into a product to eat, wear, or entertain.
As we got higher and higher on this dusty road, the bus went slower and slower. A combination of the steep elevation and the traffic, as we neared Kathmandu.
Reaching the top of the mountain road, and stopped in traffic, as we near Kathmandu, Nepal. The winding road is visible in the hazy valley, Overlooking the valley we’ve just driven up and out of, on the road to Kathmandu, Nepal.
The Road to Kathmandu
We crested the mountain and entered another valley. A storm was gathering, a dark cloud sitting on top of us, light coming around the edges close to the ground. The under-construction roads were dusty, muting the colors. This eerie and beautiful dust-diffused light, the stop-and-start bus, headlights and red taillights, and gusting wind made the entry to Kathmandu seem like we were entering a magical realm.
A school bus on the outskirts of Kathmandu, Nepal.Traffic under dark clouds as we enter Kathmandu, Nepal.Storm coming. Kathmandu Nepal.Traffic cop on a pedestal in the middle of the intersection. Kathmandu, Nepal.The road into Kathmandu, Nepal.
The Story of Swayambhunath Stupa
Along the ride, Khush had been telling us the story of the Swayambhunath Stupa (aka the Monkey Temple) in Kathmandu.
Two thousand years ago, a single lotus flower bloomed in the middle of a lake that filled the Kathmandu Valley. The bodhisattva Manjusri wanted the flower. He cut a gorge in the lake with his sword, draining it. But the magic lotus flower came to rest on top of a mountain and became the stupa. He cut the mountain to get the magic lotus. He cut his long hair which became trees, and his lice became the many monkeys that still haunt the site.
It is said that if you go clockwise around the stupa, ringing the bells and spinning the prayer wheels, that your wish will calculate a thousand times more. As we slowly moved into Kathmandu, I weighed what I wanted to wish that needed that kind of wish rocket-booster.
Arriving at the Monkey Temple (Swayambhunath Stupa), Kathmandu, Nepal.
The Heavens Open at the Monkey Temple
Our bus brought us to Swayambhunath Stupa, the Monkey Temple, via the back way (we’d learn later that this side had far fewer steps–the main entrance has 365 incredibly steep steps). The sky was dark as we climbed out, grabbing rain jackets and umbrellas just in case. Minutes later standing in front of the nearly empty stupa, monkeys screamed at each other over a bit of food, and nearly knocked us over scrambling onto a stupa. And the first drops of a very hard rain thundered down.
We raced under an alcove with a handful of tourists and watched others–humans, dogs, monkeys–seek cover. There was a smell of rain, incense, and the little oil and candle flames still flickering in the grottos.
Despite the heavy rain, Carina and I made a run for it. We made our clockwise navigation, arms sticking out from beneath useless umbrellas, hands spinning each of the prayer wheels, ringing the bells between, and whisper chanting our wishes like mantras as we splashed all the way around the stupa. Of course, we were soaked. Dripping. And that was one of the best, most vivid, happy times on the entire trip. Isn’t it funny how the imperfect moments become the most perfect memories?
Let’s hope the rain added a little something extra special for our wishes.
Circumnavigating the Swayambhunath Stupa in the rain, Kathmandu, Nepal.Spinning the prayer wheels around the Swayambhunath Stupa, Kathmandu, Nepal.Carina photographing me, photographing her…Hiding under a ledge in the pouring rain. Monkey Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal.Dogs scurry to shelter as the rain comes down. Monkey Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal.The Swayambhunath Stupa, aka the Monkey Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal.Candles at Monkey Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal.Dogs clean up inside the stupa as the rain pours down at the Monkey Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal.
Rain, Rain, Rain
After our circumnavigation, we ducked into a grotto, and–small world–met some of the others from our group who’d arrived in Kathmandu this morning. We waited together with the dogs in this little cave-like room that smelled of burning candles, smoke, rain, wet dog, sweat, dankness, and mountain air. But it was dry, and filled with laughing, happy people.
The rain hammered down, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. We still had to get back to the bus. After about 20 minutes, we gathered our perseverance and ran laughing out into the rain. The steps we’d come up had become a raging river waterfall, gushing against our calves and flooding our shoes as we hustled down. We splished, splashed, and squished dripping into the bus, quickly fogging up the windows. We shed wet outer layers as the driver cranked the heat to dry us off.
First evening in Kathmandu, Last evening as a group
Saying goodbye to Khush at the Fuji Hotel in Kathmandu, Nepal.
Not long after, the bus pulled up in Thamel, a tourist neighborhood in Kathmandu. We said goodbye to the two Nepalese bus pilots and dashed through the rain and wet alleys to get to the hotel.
We checked into the Fuji Hotel and changed into warm, dry clothes. Meeting in the lobby about an hour later, we decided to go across the street to Fusion Kitchen for our final dinner as a group. What an amazing group of people! The G Adventures tour was the perfect itinerary. Our guide, Khush, was the perfect host–knowledgeable, kind, attending to our every question/need, and fun to spend time with. And our group–a unique combination of people who shared a sense of adventure–was the icing on the cake. We could not have asked for a better group tour.
Last G Adventures Group Dinner in Kathmandu, Nepal.
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.
