I have been a book lover for as long as I can remember.  Lately, I haven’t been reading as much as I would like to.  Not for lack of time, I can make plenty of that.  I’m in a reading slump and when I come out of it, there is a good chance I will read several books in a week.  I go through cycles like that.  Sometimes I read every day, sometimes, I don’t.  My mom told me that even as a baby, my dad read to me almost every night.  Since I can’t seem to come up with one “best” anything for any of these posts, you will have to bear with me as I break my favorite childhood book into life stages.

The first stage, being a toddler. Now you might think that being named after a character from the book “Peter Pan”  which by the way was originally titled, “Peter Pan and Wendy”, that it would be my favorite.  Sure I loved Peter’s adventures in Neverland but, as soon as I saw this topic, the first book that came to my mind was, “The Cinnamon Bear” by Alice Hanson and illustrated by George Bakacs.  It was part of the Tell-a-Tale series of books.  The Cinnamon Bear was on the cover, and he was “fuzzy-wuzzy”.  It tells the story of a small bear who runs away from the circus to have some fun and cools off in the river.  Of course, the circus people find him and take him back for the show.  I’m not sure, but I think this book may even have been a hand-me-down from my aunts, Pam and Jill.

Books were a big deal at our house.  We often received them as gifts, and I couldn’t wait for the book fair when I got to school age.  I don’t remember a time I didn’t have a library card.  Saturday trips to the library, checking out as many books as I could carry was something I looked forward to. It wasn’t just library books.  We had bookcases and bookshelves in our house, so they were always within reach.

Most nights after dinner, my dad would lie on the floor and work on the crossword puzzle that was in the newspaper or read his National Geographic.  As a child, I often joined him, or sometimes laid on his back and looked over his shoulder so I could “read” the Nat Geo too.

 

After “The Cinnamon Bear”, I have great memories of reading Dr. Seuss’s books.  I think we belonged to a book club and received a book regularly.  Plus I had a few hand-me-downs from Pam and Jill.  I’m going to call the next stage of my reading life, the early elementary years.  With all the reading at home, I was able to read when I started kindergarten.  Now while the Dr. Seuss books were loved as were the Little Golden Books like “Pokey Little Puppy” and “The Little Red Hen”, my favorite book which is really a set of books, was “Childcraft – The How and Why Library”.  The series consisted of 15 volumes with each volume focusing on a specific topic.  The edition we had included the following titles:  Poems and Rhymes, Stories and Fables, Children Everywhere, World and Space, About Animals, How Things Work, How We Get Things, What People Do, Holidays and Customs, Places to Know, Make and Do, Look and Learn, Look Again, About Me, Guide for Parents.  My favorites were: Poems and Rhymes, Children Everywhere, World and Space, and Places to Know.  I think I read those books cover to cover several times throughout the years.

Okay, on to the pre-teen/teen years.  There was E.B. White’s “Charlotte’s Web”, Judy Blume books, and “Dr. Doolittle”, but I was most captivated by Carolyn Keene’s “Nancy Drew” series.  I had the whole set, and my brother had the “Hardy Boys” series which I also read.   I even downloaded “Nancy Drew and the Secret of the Old Clock” to my Kindle a couple of years ago.  I think every young girl who read these books always wanted to solve a mystery of their own.

No one book stands out in my high school years.  What does stand out is the way our English classes were designed.  During my junior/senior year, we had English mini-courses.  We could choose the courses that we wanted.  My favorites were Poetry Reading, Novel Reading, Comic Books, and Science Fiction.  Needless to say, I read a lot during that time.  I even was a co-editor for the school’s literary magazine, the Cauldron which was founded by Earl Derr Biggers who went on to create the Charlie Chan character of books and movies.

I can’t wrap this up without mentioning “Le Petit Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.  It wasn’t a childhood favorite, but as an adult, even though it is considered a children’s book, it is one of my favorites.  So much so, that if I happen across it during my travels, I buy it in that language. One of my journals is also based on it.

 

I’ve enjoyed writing this blog so much, that I am thinking about re-reading a Nancy Drew Book, “Charlotte’s Web”, and “Le Petit Prince” since they are all on my Kindle.

I will leave you with words of wisdom from Dr. Seuss, “You can find magic wherever you look.  Sit back and relax, all you need is a book.”

Looking at today’s writing prompt and find it nearly impossible.  When I think of all the places I have been and the amazing experiences that I have had, I will do my best to narrow it down.  In July of 2020, I wrote My Top Ten List.  Since then I have added dozens of places and experiences which don’t help my dilemma.  I will start this one out in a similar style.

They (has anyone ever figured out who “they” is) say you never forget your first trip to Paris.  I definitely agree with “them”.  Paris was always a dream destination.  Living in La Ville Lumiere was a dream come true, but oh, that magical first trip…

 

“It was our first evening in Paris.  Night was falling as we entered the metro.  Rain was in the forecast, so I had our umbrella.  We were headed to a wine taste.  A light drizzle met us as we exited the metro station.  The sounds of the city and the glow of the streetlamps surrounded us.  As we tried to get our bearings, he spotted a street vendor selling crepes.  Huddled under our umbrella, sharing a warm crepe… Paris in the rain…I was in love.  Was I in love with the city, the man, or the moment?  Probably, all three.”  Best trip of my life?  At the time I probably thought it was.

I spent four years living on the Asian continent.  During that time I was able to travel many places in China and visit several other Asian countries.  I had so many mad adventures and visited so many cities in China, that I don’t think I can name them all.  If someone would ask me what pops into my head when they say, “Asian travel”, two memorable places and events come immediately to mind.

I have always had a fascination with Tibet and the Dalai Lama.  In 2016, I was living in Changning, China in Hunan Province.  I would soon be moving back to Shandong Province and decided if I wanted to visit Tibet the time was now.  I boarded a train in Guangzhou.  It would be a nine-hour train ride to Chongqing.  I decided I would stop here for the night instead of just changing trains because the next leg was 44 hours and climbing to an altitude of 5000 meters (16,404 ft) before descending back down to 3,656 meters(11,975 feet) in Lhasa, Tibet.  The train berths were equipped with oxygen and the slow journey should help us acclimatize.  I would be spending 8 days in Tibet and ending the trip in Kathmandu.  You can not enter Tibet as an individual but must apply for a travel permit and have a guide.  I would be joining 9 others traveling around Tibet and overnighting at Mount Everest Base Camp.  I chose to arrive a day or so early to bum around Lhasa on my own.  Walking around Lhasa was beautiful, it felt like the land that time forgot, except for the mobile phones and satellite dishes.  Seeing the Potala Palace blew me away.  All of Tibet was magnificent, but the crowning moment was at EBC (Everest Base Camp) when the skies opened up and I watched the sunset on the peak of the mighty mountain.

In August 2018, on an invitation from my Kenari House family, I returned to Peliatan, Bali, Indonesia.  I had been invited to take part in Ngaben or the cremation ceremony for Ketut’s mother.  I wrote the following in my journal: “2:30 am……my alarm sounds…..darkness surrounds me, and I listen to the night sounds. I let my mind drift to the Kuburan or cremation grounds.  I am about to participate in the “awakening of the dead” or ngagah.  We will be exhuming the body of Ketut’s mother to prepare it for the Ngaben or cremation ceremony.  In Balinese, ngaben means turn to ash.  I do nothing for several minutes but allow myself to reflect on the lives and deaths in my own life.  Next, I do my best to properly attire myself in my kamen, kebaya, and anteng and then make my way downstairs to wait for Koming and Ketut.”

 

“It’s a crisp, clear August night/morning as I travel to the Kuburan on the back of Ketut’s motorcycle.  We arrive at the Peyadnyan and I make my way to the Petak.  Family members are preparing the tools and supplies needed for exhuming and then cleansing the body/remains.  I follow the family to the Kuburan where some members of the family have already begun the exhumation process.  A solemnness hangs in the cool night air as young and old look on.  No one is openly mourning as even this, “the awakening of the dead”, is the beginning of a celebration; a celebration of life.  A time to celebrate helping the soul of the deceased move on from their previous life.  Koming’s flashlight goes out, so I use the light on my phone to assist the young men digging at the gravesite.  A yell of joy comes from in front of me.  They have reached the body.  Some of the men now drop their tools and pull the dirt away with their hands until a once-white sheet is lifted from the grave.  I brace myself as this is the first time I have seen a body that has been exhumed.”

“First, I see the skull, then a torso still wrapped in funeral cloth, and finally smaller bones of arms, legs, hands, and feet are added to the pile.  Water, water with flowers, and coconut water are used as we wash the “body”.  The torso is placed on a fresh white sheet and the skull and other bones are placed as if it were a whole body.  It is a sight I will never forget, forever etched into my mind’s eye.  It was not a morbid sight.  The way the remains were so gently cleansed and lovingly cared for touched my soul.  Today, after all, is about the soul which will first be purified by fire which represents earth.  Tomorrow it will be purified by water so it may return to heaven.  After the cleansed remains are wrapped in the white sheet, they are then placed and wrapped on a rattan mat, wrapped and moved to the burning area.”

Best trip of my life?  I would consider it one of the most moving and memorable experiences during my travels.

In August/September 2021, I made my first trip to the African continent.  I left Sofia, Bulgaria, and landed in Cairo, Egypt.  I was staying in a guesthouse on the Giza Plateau. My room overlooked the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid.  The most amazing thing about this view is looking at the Great Pyramid and realizing it is the oldest of the seven wonders of the ancient world and the only one mostly intact.  It’s mind-boggling.  I still have trouble grasping the fact that I was looking at and had touched something over 4000 years old.  While in Egypt, I also took a side trip to Alexandria.  From Cairo, I headed to Casablanca Morocco, and then on to Marrakech for a week.  There is nothing like getting lost wandering around the souks in the Medina.  Unfortunately, it was still considered covid times, and the Great Square, Jemaa ElFna, was void of people, snake charmers, storytellers, and such.  No worries, I returned in September 2023 and witnessed it in all its glory.  I even ate a camel burger.  Best trip of my life?  No, but the first in Africa.

August/September 2022, I again wanted to travel when I left Bulgaria.  I had also decided I wanted to have a purpose during my trip besides traveling for pleasure.  As I said in my last post, I tossed around a few possibilities as destinations, including a return to Egypt for Valley of the Kings, India, and finally Kenya or Tanzania.  I decided it would also be a WorkAway.  In exchange for a few volunteer hours Monday-Friday, the host provides room and board.  I ultimately decided on Tanzania and Bright English Medium School in Wasso a mere 120 km (75 miles) from the Serengeti.  Since I had just spent 8 weeks at a youth camp in Bulgaria, I decided on a bit of downtime before I headed to the school.  Plus it would break up the 9–10-hour bus journey, which was not one of those nice tourist coaches but a local bus, hot, dusty, and crowded.

At the Giraffe Lodge I would be staying in a tent.  I also had the opportunity to trek with a Maasai guide.  I won’t go into the detail here, from my arrival in Zanzibar, then the plane ride to the mainland, the bus journey to the lodge, and walking among zebras, giraffes, baboons, and more, and seeing massive baobabs and stunning acacia trees, I felt like I was walking in an issue of National Geographic.  If interested you can read more about it (and I did have some mad crazy adventures) here. When my time was up at the Giraffe Lodge, I boarded the bus to take me to Wasso.

The location of the school which is between Wasso and Loliondo, Tanzania sits about 2° south of the equator and at an altitude of approximately 2000 meters (6560 ft) above sea level.  Approximately 200 children live at the school and about 300 attend.  There is no running water at the school.  This meant we would be taking bucket showers and using pails of water to flush the toilets.  The days were warm but breezy and once the sun went down it got downright chilly, even dipping into the mid-’40s (Fahrenheit) at night.  This might be a good place to add that along with no running water, there was no heating and cooling system…and electricity could be sketchy along with cellular service.  Before you ask, yes I was aware of the living conditions, and somehow that enhanced the experience.  Not long after I arrived, I was fed a hearty eggplant stew and then a young girl showed up with a bucket of hot water so I could “shower” after my dusty journey.  The children hadn’t arrived at the school for the new semester, so we volunteers busied ourselves preparing the dorms and the classrooms.

Because of its proximity to the Serengeti and the fact that the children hadn’t arrived the gentleman, Baraka, who runs the school, offered to take us on a day safari.  We would have to pay the minimum fees for the park entrance, etc.  It was the chance of a lifetime.  We spent about 10 hours exploring the park.  I was so close to a lioness; that I could have reached out and patted her head.  You can read more about that here.  After the children arrived, my days were spent teaching them songs in the classroom, playing games, and having the time of my life.  Being that the nearest “town” was about a 40-minute walk most of my time was spent with the other volunteers, staff, and kids.  Most of the children are from the local Maasai community and I was able to go to the Maasai market and experience the life of these people.  When it was time for me to go, I really was sad and wished I could have stayed longer.  You would think “living off the grid” with no real modern conveniences, I would be ready to get back to the “real world”.

It was a lifetime experience.  Count your blessings!  I will always remember these kids, and how happy they seemed.  I rarely saw them without smiles, they were happy with their meals and thankful for the time the volunteers spent with them.  Maybe it was them that was blessed.  This quote stuck with me after my time at BEMS:  “Once you carry your own water, you will learn the value of every drop.”

Was this the best trip of my life?  I have had many bests and many amazings in my life.  I’m getting ready to head off into lands unknown at the end of the year.  I’m sure I will be awed by something during that journey.  For now, my experience in Tanzania was the best trip of my life…so far! It wasn’t always comfortable, but it brought me much joy!  Peace Out, my friends

Today’s topic didn’t require any thought.  I needed an easy one.   I was probably around 11 years old when I got my first piercing.  Okay, yes, it was just a cute little pair of gold studs earrings, but I was only 11.  Through the years I added five more holes in my lobes and cartilage.  About thirty-five years ago, I added a navel ring, hence the email address and screen name, navel1ring.  One thing I learned, even though I kept it covered, small people as in my littles in kindergarten and grade one being about bellybutton high, somehow managed to get small hands on it.  When I had to take it out for my back surgery, I left it out.

On to my tattoos…I have been inked nine times.  My first tattoo was a few months before the navel ring.  I have always been a lover of the night sky.  I had a telescope as a child and followed the moon’s phases.  I wanted a tattoo that wasn’t always visible.  I also had decided I wanted only black ink.  The first tat was a quarter moon with a face on the big toe of my left foot.  This was soon followed by a sun on the top of my right foot, then by a shooting star on the top of my left foot.  This kept me satisfied for a while, but the tattoo needle was again calling my name.

I arrived in Beijing in August 2015.  I spent two weeks training and studying for a second TEFL certification with about fifty 20-somethings.  I was 53.  One night near the end of our two weeks (there may have been alcohol involved), a group of us decided we needed to commemorate the occasion with tattoos.  We discussed what each of our tattoos would be and off we went in search of a tattoo studio.  During our two weeks of training, we took some classes in calligraphy and learned to write some Chinese characters or Hànzì  汉字.  The first thing I learned to write was 福 寿 fú shòu.  It means happiness and longevity or a happy long life.

Now I know there are horror stories of Americans having Chinese characters tattooed on their body and they don’t mean what they thought they did.  I felt confident that I would be getting what I asked for.  福 寿 is also a typical greeting people put on their gates and doors for Chinese New Year.  Tat number four was the Chinese characters 福 寿 on the inside of my left wrist.  Number five happened about 2 days later before I would be leaving for my teaching assignment in Xiashan.  Some of the others wished they had gone with us so a couple of us said we would take them and along the way, I decided why not get another.  Number five is the Chinese characters 自由精神 Zì yóu jīng shén which means free spirit.  I had these put on my inside right forearm.

Fast forward to November 12, 2016, when I lived in Qingdao, China.  I stumbled across a tattoo studio not far from my flat.  One day I decided to stop in and check it out.  I liked the studio; the artists spoke English and I made a snap decision to add number six, an airplane to the Free Spirit characters.  Next up, February 21, 2017.  It was a snowy day in Qingdao and my friend Raffi and I were searching for something to do. I had been to Warren, Ohio briefly the previous summer and my friend Teri gave me a necklace.  It was a compass with the J.R.R. Tolkien phrase Not All Who Wander Are Lost.  I said to Raffi, come with me, I want to get another tattoo.  Next thing I know, I am face down on the table getting number seven,  a compass, and the words tatted on my right lower calf.  We followed it up with martinis at Latitude 36 Le Meridien Bar to celebrate.  I was also leaving Qingdao a few days later to move to Dong’e.

 

In  August 2017, I was back in Qingdao to go to the Beer Festival with my best bud Erwin.  I had gotten friendly with one of the girls at the studio who was studying to be a tattoo artist when I was living in Qingdao.  During this visit, she gave me number eight and my only tattoo that has color, a flower inside my right ear.  That takes care of Qingdao.

 

My ninth tattoo I got while I was living in Dong’e, but I got it in Bali.  February 2018 was my first visit to Bali.  While staying at Kenari House, every night when I went to bed, I would look up at the ceiling.  There was always a gecko directly above my face looking down at me.  I decided I wanted to commemorate my Bali trip with a gecko tat and number nine.  I walked into Ubud and met Ona.  On my left hand, between my thumb and index finger, he gave me my gecko.

My tattoos need to mean something to me.  Living in Poland now for over 4 years, I want to get something to commemorate my stay here.  I have it designed and will get it before the end of the year.  It will have the Polish Kotwica which was the symbol of the Polish Underground.  I want to incorporate it with the airplane on my right arm and the plane’s contrails will make a heart and lead to the Kotwica.

I also want to add a tattoo representing my love of Paris.  I plan to eventually get the Eiffel Tower tattooed over the scar from my back surgery.

There you have it…the history of my piercings and tattoos.  Peace Out!

 

Are resolutions and bucket lists the same as goals?  Resolutions, we hear that word thrown around at the end of one year and the beginning of a new one.  A resolution is a firm decision to do or not to do something.  Often a habit we want to stop or start.  A bucket list is a list of experiences or achievements that a person hopes to have or accomplish during their lifetime.  Goals are a person’s vision for the future, something you want to achieve, or maybe simply a dream with a deadline.  All are very similar by definition.  They all revolve around aspirations and intentions yet differ in scope and time frame.  I like the acronym SMART when talking about goals – specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-bound.  I don’t have a specific bucket list or a written list of goals.  Well, that is somewhat of a lie.  When Teri and I were in London at the Beefeater’s Distillery, I got a book called “Gin Bucket List”.  I do hope to complete the list in the book and I keep a list of all the different gins I try.  I do start each year by thinking of things I want to do, but not so specific to make them resolutions.  On to my big five:

You probably know that I love travel.  I recently started a spreadsheet with all the countries of the world.  I am including the capital city, calling code, official language(s), currency, visa requirements, and longitude and latitude.  I also purchased “The Adventure Book, Ultimate Travelers Edition”. It is a journal that lists all the countries and territories in the world along with US states and some fun pages such as Foodie Bingo.

Along with journaling about your experiences, it also had a page of flags.  This leads me to my first goal.  It is to learn all the capitals and identify all the flags of the world.  I had no idea how many flags are similar.  Slowly but surely I am getting there.  I have little flag flashcards I made that have the country and its capital on the back.  I also have an app that quizzes me on both flags and capitals but also has a nice twist where it shows the country on a world map and I have to identify the flag.  My bedtime ritual. I didn’t set a time frame but I know when I get to camp this summer, there is always someone looking for that challenge.

In September 2018 I had big plans to meet my friend Teri and my cousins Bob and Sally in Paris. I planned it around the Jimmy Buffett concert at La Cigale.  It would be Bob and Sally’s first trip to Paris and they wanted me to show them around.  Then September 6^th happened.  I was in an accident in China and ended up with a broken back.  Our trip had to be rescheduled and we ended up going in May 2019.  This year Bob and Sally will be in Paris again and are bringing the grandkids, cousins I have never met.  My second goal is to meet them all in Paris.

This month marked the fourth year I have lived in Poland.  My initial intent was to spend 12-18 months.  No, I didn’t have a plan for what was next, although most likely back to Asia. I arrived on February 4, 2020.  Unless you were living off-grid, everyone knows what happened by mid-March – the world stopped turning.  Poland is an easy country to get comfortable in.  I did just that.  Even after restrictions were lifted pretty much worldwide, I continued my Polish life…working, traveling, having fun, and traveling some more.  Just like when I was in China, I woke up one-morning last year and decided I needed to think about moving on.  I wasn’t sure when or where exactly I wanted to go but I knew it was time.  Goal number three is to leave Poland in December 2024/January 2025. However, by this writing, I have somewhat of a plan as to where I want to go.

In the summer of 2022, I was at Zenira Camp on the Black Sea in Kiten, Bulgaria.  I wanted to do some traveling after camp ended in August.  The prior year after camp I flew to Cairo to experience the pyramids.  Then I decided to head to Casablanca and Marrakech Morocco.  Both were exhilarating journeys that fueled my soul.  I tossed around a few possibilities, including a return to Egypt for Valley of the Kings or India but I didn’t have a specific destination, and finally Kenya and Tanzania.

In my dreams, I didn’t have visions of sugar plums, not even lions, tigers, and bears, but baobabs, zebras, elephants, giraffes, and epic sunsets behind massive acacia trees.  Another visit to Egypt and a trip to India would have to wait, so I narrowed it down to Kenya and Tanzania.  I remember I had joined an online community a few years ago called WorkAway.  I decided my trip would involve a WorkAway or a volunteer program that provides room and board in exchange for volunteer hours.

If I was going to this part of Kenya or Tanzania, it had to include a safari.  The thing that finally tipped the scales to Bright English Medium School was the quote, “Go big or go home”.  To me, going big was the Serengeti.  BEMS (Bright English Medium School) mentioned their proximity to the Serengeti in their host write-up.  Soon I was messaging back and forth with Juliana and Lydia from BEMS and the next thing I knew; I pulled the trigger on a one-way plane ticket to Arusha, Tanzania from Sofia Bulgaria.

My WorkAway experience in Tanzania was one of the best experiences in my life.  As I mentioned above, I have some idea of where I want to travel when I leave Poland.  It isn’t set in stone and no details, but I hope to travel through Romania, Türkiye, Georgia, Azerbaijan, and then into the “Stan” countries.  At some point, I would like to have an extended stay in India.  My number four goal is a little vague since I haven’t decided exactly the countries I will be in but in two parts my goal is when in Azerbaijan to visit the homes of my flatmates, Tarlan and Zaka, and to have as many WorkAway experiences as I can in these countries.

As cliche as it sounds and maybe even a cop-out, my fifth goal is to live my best life. As David Bowie said, “I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.”

As I mentioned in my day three blog, I do not like picking a “favorite” anything.  Picking five favorite songs is difficult.  According to Nielsen’s Music 360 2014 study, 93% of the U.S. population listens to music, spending more than 25 hours each week jamming to their favorite tunes.  I am lucky if I listen to 25 hours of music in a year.  Not that I dislike or don’t enjoy music.  I’m just a big fan of silence.  In a cacophonous world, embracing silence is therapeutic.  When driving a car, I rarely put the radio on.  I never have music playing in the background or headphones during the day when working, reading, cooking, cleaning, or anything.  Today I have probably listened to more music than I have in the past year.  I have finally come up with five songs that I wouldn’t necessarily call favorites, but they either speak to or have meaning to me.

On May 26 and 27, 1994, Pink Floyd’s Division Bell Tour came to Cleveland Stadium in Cleveland, Ohio.  Those of you who know me, I’m sure you know where this is headed, but first a few thoughts on Pink Floyd.  There were a few songs by Pink Floyd I knew in my youth.  On November 30, 1979, my senior year in high school, “The Wall”  was released, and “Another Brick in the Wall”  became an anthem.  I am often asked if I miss home, the United States, my family, and my friends.  I can be talking to someone, and they say, “I miss you”. I know my answer should be, “I miss you too”.  It is difficult for me to say these words.  Not because I don’t miss them, but I don’t miss them there, where they are.  I miss them not being here and sharing my experiences here.  Yes, that is probably selfish of me, but I do wish they were here sometimes.  So my first song is Pink Floyd’s, “Wish You Were Here”.  I am also linking to the songs on YouTube.

Sometimes during my English lessons, I ask questions about music.  Since nearly everyone answers the question, “What is your favorite song?”, with, “It depends”, I have switched it up.  I ask them to tell me a song that defines them.  I also email the question before class so they have time to think about it.  The song that answers that question for me, is one I loved the minute I heard it.  I love these lyrics and feel like they define me:

Now that she’s back in the atmosphere

With drops of Jupiter in her hair

She acts like summer and walks like rain

Reminds me that there’s a time to change, hey

Since the return of her stay on the moon

She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey

Hey, hey, yeah

Two years ago, I was having a conversation with a student about musical lyrics.  She asked me what I thought the lyrics to “Forever Young” (not the Rod Stewart song) meant. It got me thinking about my song, which is my second choice for this blog, “Drops of Jupiter”, by Train.  After my conversation with Basia, I revisited “Drops of Jupiter” to see if the lyrics did have any special meaning.  Patrick Monahan, the lead singer,  wrote this song in memory of his late mother who died from cancer. He stated that the first few lines of the song suddenly came to him as he slept in bed one night when visiting his hometown in Pennsylvania.

My brother started studying piano at age 5 or 6.  He studied with a woman who had trained students for the Metropolitan Opera, Audrey Benedict and studied under her for 11 years.  At the age of 12, she enrolled him in a 4-year course from the Sherwood School of Music in Chicago.  Between the ages of 10 and 16, he won four local, three district, three state, and 2 national piano titles.  He also won Beethoven, Bach, and Sonatina national piano guild titles in each category.  I think he practiced about 2 hours per day.  I remember having to go to his piano competitions (when we were both young).  I remember I didn’t like them…sitting for hours listening to all the students.  One memory that makes me smile is, that my dad loved the movie “The Sting” with Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Mark learned to play “The Entertainer”.  I can’t tell you how many times my dad would ask him to play it.  After my mom died, my brother, my grandmother, and I purchased a baby grand piano for our church.   We had a dedication ceremony in December 2001, just a few short months after September 11^th.  Mark played the piano for the dedication.  Highlighting songs from his youth competition days.  He ended the repertoire with “New York State of Mind”.  Needless to say, it brought down the house.  You are probably wondering what the hell my third song is.  No, it is not “The Entertainer” or “New York State of Mind”.  It is one by Billy Joel, but first, one more story.  After my mom died, we were going through her things and discovered two boxes of letters.  They contained letters my dad had written to her while he was in the army and her letters to him which he had also saved. These were the most beautiful letters I had ever read.  My dad had such a way with words.  He always described the scene around him.  I remember one describing sitting with other soldiers drinking a beer.  He described the smoke-filled room, the type of music on the radio, etc.  My third song is that first, it reminds me of my brother and the descriptive lyrics remind me of Dad’s letters.  It is “The Piano Man” by Billy Joel.

On to number four.  This song was released in 1997 just a few months before my dad died.  He was a person who always had a radio playing.  He even went to sleep with it on.  He heard this song and loved it and said it was our song.  I still can’t listen to it without getting a bit teary-eyed.  The last time I heard it before today was probably October 2015.  I was in Inner Mongolia, of all places.  I had hired a driver to take me to the Gobi Desert.  We were driving along in the middle of nowhere and “Butterfly Kisses” by Bob Carlisle came on the radio.  Yes, I started crying.

Last but not least, we made it to number five.  For the last 10 years of her life, my mom, a woman who never drank, smoked, and rarely ate red meat,  battled primary sclerosing cholangitis, a rare liver disease.  On February 28, 2000, in Cleveland Clinic, she died while waiting for a liver transplant.  Now I know I started this blog off by saying I rarely play the radio in the car and prefer silence.  Leaving the Cleveland Clinic that morning, by myself, I played this song on repeat the entire drive home to Warren.  I know the lyrics to this song are about the death of musician Jonathan Melvoin (1961–1996) from a heroin overdose.  But the song was comforting to me.  It is “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan.

Those are the five songs that speak to or have meaning to me.  It appears they also have a theme of death, but honestly, even if I say I get teary-eyed, they all hold happy memories.

Fear – this could go in many different directions.  I could take the easy way out and say I am afraid of snakes, tell my snake encounter in Bali, and be done with it.  But, I’m not sure if I am really afraid of snakes or if they just creep me out.   My chance encounter with a snake in Bali is a good story so I may as well tell it.  Although snakes are not going to be the answer to, What am I afraid of?”.

It was August 2019, and Henry, Deb, Larry, and Amy had come to visit me in Bali.   One of our excursions for the day was to Pura Tirta Empul (Holy Springs in Balinese) or the Water Temple.  Tirta Empul was founded around 926 A.D.  Balinese Hindus go there for ritual purification.  Foreigners can also get a water blessing there.  The water in the pools is believed to have magical powers which is why local Balinese and tourists come here to purify themselves under the 30 water spouts that feed the pools. Figuring I had spent enough time at temple ceremonies already, I was adequately blessed and opted to be the photographer.  The pool was approximately 5 meters wide by 20 meters long.  Worshippers stood in long snaking (pun intended) lines in the pools, waiting to dip their heads below the water spouts.

I found what I thought was a perfect location for getting photos of the group performing the ritual beneath the first water spout.  Of course, I was wearing flip-flops. I’m snapping pictures when I feel something tickling my feet.  I look down and see a snake, not quite a meter long, slithering over them. I took a deep breath, didn’t move,  and managed to snap a photo as it was going through a hole and into the pool that was filled with people.  I wanted to let out a small scream and yell snake, but thought better of it considering the chaos I could start.  It evidently didn’t bother anyone because no incident ensued.

What am I afraid of?  During my travels, I get asked about fear quite often.  Aren’t you afraid of being alone? When the war with Ukraine broke out, I was asked if I was afraid of being in Poland because of the political situation and the war.  Are you afraid of becoming unwell?  Are you afraid of getting hurt?  I survived a broken back and a lengthy surgery in China, so I think I got that covered.  The list goes on.  Those things never really cross my mind.

My dad used to quote FDR, “The only thing you have to fear is fear itself.”  I interpret this as I can’t fear things that are out of my control or I would never go anywhere, try new things, or trust the kindness of random strangers.  Maybe that is a little over-simplified, but I honestly never think about those things.  Even though I have had my share of crazy situations when I should maybe have been a bit scared, my mindset is to stay calm especially if it is a situation out of your control.

One of my favorite “I should have been fearful” stories took place in China.  I had a 2+ hour drive home from the train station when I lived in Dong’e. Because I lived so far from the train station, it was normal to have a carpool. When the driver picked me up he already had 3 other passengers (lucky for me they were all in the back seat). I jumped in the front and off we went towards Dong’e.  About 1 hour and 45 into the ride home we pull down a one-lane pitch-dark dirt road, with ditches on both sides, and drop off one passenger. It was so narrow we had to do one of those 3 point turns and then we were off again. About 10 minutes later, we turn down another dark single-lane dirt road. The other 2 passengers get out and get into a cart that was waiting for them.  It was just me left, and we headed to Dong’e. I know my driver also lives in Dong’e and I have used him several times prior, which may be one of the reasons I wasn’t too scared. We continue through the village (no street lights in these small villages).  Soon we came to a slightly more populated area about 15 minutes from Dong’e. We pull into a small “parking lot” which has a car and a shack, seriously a shack about 4 x 8. The driver blows the horn and a rather large man comes out and jumps in the backseat. No biggie, I assume he needs a lift into Dong’e. Well……about 30 yards down the road we turn into what looks like a factory that is closed or abandoned. The driver looked at me and told me something in Chinese that I didn’t understand as we went further into this lot. The lot was dark, there were no lights and he backed up perpendicular to a box truck. He tells me something else, but the only thing I understand is this will only take a few minutes. I just smile and say ok. Both guys get out of the car, the big guy opens the back of the box truck, and lo and behold there is a fuel pump. Illegal fuel, I assumed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get any pictures as it was too dark and I was in the car. Anyway, they put fuel in the car, got back in and we drove the guy back to the shack. He got out, we left and he delivered me home. I did have a minute or two that I thought it might be my last day on the planet or I was about to be kidnapped and sold into the sex trade, but there wasn’t a lot I could do.

I still haven’t answered the question.  So here goes… back in August 2023, I wrote a blog about the passage of time.  The passage of time has been compared to the flight of an arrow, a rolling stream, and a winged chariot.  Shakespeare wrote of “the whirligig of time.”  Physicists insist that time doesn’t flow at all; it merely is.  In life, we divide time into three parts, the past, the present, and the future.  The grammatical structure of our language revolves around this.  Time is defined as the continued sequence of existence and events that occur in an irreversible succession from the past, through the present, and into the future.  Einstein believed time is not absolute and that time is relative—in other words, the rate at which time passes depends on your frame of reference.  Is time even real?

To finally answer the question, What am I afraid of?  I am afraid of time, more precisely, not having enough.  Stephen Hawking said, “ I’m not afraid of death, but I’m in no hurry to die. I have so much I want to do first.”  I too am not afraid to die, I have seen and done so much in my lifetime already.  The problem is, that the more I see and do, the more I want to see, do, and learn about this world we live in. Will I have enough time to read all the books on my “to be read” list?  Will I have enough time to travel to all the places I want to go?  God knows I‘m a master procrastinator and an expert time waster, but you can’t be on the go all the time.  Even though I fear time or the lack of it, and I know the answer to most of the “will I have enough time” questions is no, all I can do is face my fear and make the most of it.

 

I didn’t have to think twice about this answer.  My proudest moment was January 9, 2020. Now to explain why.

I’m a small-town girl.  I have always been proud to say I am from Warren, Ohio.  We’ve even had a few famous people from this city in the northeast.  Maybe you have heard of Earl Derr Biggers.  He was born on August 26, 1884 in Warren, Ohio.  He was an American novelist and playwright. His novels featured the fictional Chinese American detective Charlie Chan and were adapted into popular films made in the United States and China.   Then there was Harrier Taylor Upton. She was an American political activist and author. Upton is best remembered as a leading Ohio state and national figure in the struggle for women’s right to vote and as the first woman to become a vice-chair of the Republican National Committee. We can’t forget about Roger Ailes. He was born in Warren, Ohio, and graduated from Warren G. Harding High School.  He was an American television executive and media consultant and the chairman and CEO of Fox News. He was inducted into Warren G. Harding High School’s Distinguished Alumni Hall of Fame.  I am proud to say my brother, Mark and I have both joined Roger Ailes as Distinguished Alumni. And how about about Dave Grohl, born in Warren, Ohio on January 16, 1969.   He is an American musician. He is the founder of the rock band Foo Fighters, for which he is the lead singer, guitarist, and principal songwriter. Before forming Foo Fighters, he was the drummer of the rock band Nirvana from 1990 to 1994.

Here are three others from Warren that play into my proudest moment:

Paul Warfield was born in Warren, Ohio on November 28, 1942.  He was a star halfback at The Ohio State University. He was an American former professional football player who was a wide receiver in the National Football League from 1964 to 1977 for the Cleveland Browns and Miami Dolphins.  He was known for his speed, fluid moves, grace, and jumping ability. A consistent big-play threat throughout his career, his 20.1 average yards per reception is the highest in NFL history among players with at least 300 receptions.

David Lee Morgan was born in Warren, Ohio in 1965 and is an American sportswriter, author, teacher, and motivational speaker.  He is the author of six sports books, including the first biography of LeBron James. He has appeared on the ESPN program Outside the Lines, the 2008 documentary film More Than a Game, and the Disney XD series Becoming.

Dennis Drummond grew up in Warren where his father worked as a steelworker for 40 years.  He got his first guitar at seven years old and a few years later started his first blues band.  In 2012, after graduating from Berklee College of Music, Dennis moved to Nashville to pursue his music career as a touring guitar player. Performing the Black Crowes song “She Talks to Angels” on “The Voice” in 2017, Dennis Drummond was captivating enough to convince two judges to push their buttons for the singer.

Before I tell you how they play into my proudest moment, a little more about my hometown.  Let’s look back to 1922/23 during the Golden Age of Hollywood and 160 East Market Street in Downtown, Warren, Ohio. Oh, I also “stole” the following narrative from the Robins Theatre website, but I think my brother will forgive me.

“The Robins Theatre was commissioned by Daniel Robins, who was an early partner of Abraham Warner of the famed Warner Brothers. It was designed by C. Howard Crane and I. J. Goldston and constructed by the Charles Shutrump and Sons Company of Youngstown, Ohio. It was built in 1922 at a cost of $300,000.The exterior of the building is in the Italian Renaissance style, while the theatre is Adam Style with Vermont marble columns, grand staircases, and ornate walls and ceilings.

The Robins Theatre opened to a full house on January 9, 1923. The stage was once used for vaudeville productions and could be converted from screening motion pictures to presenting live theatre performances in 24 hours. It remained in continuous operation until 1974 when the doors were permanently closed. By 2017, the theatre remained almost completely original, however, more than forty years of vacancy had taken its toll.

In December 2017, the Robins Theatre was purchased by Downtown Development Group (DDG), which committed to restoring the theatre in two years with as much historical accuracy as possible. The restored theatre is equipped to accommodate concerts, stage shows, and film screenings.”

My brother just happens to be “Downtown Development Group”.  His goal was to have the restoration complete so it could have a grand re-opening on January 9, 2020, 97 years after its original opening. When I say grand, I mean GRAND.  Complete with limos, Hollywood-style spotlights, and the entire audience entering on a red carpet.  But, I’m getting ahead of myself.  The entertainment needed to be grand also.  My brother and sister-in-law also wanted it to be connected to Warren, Ohio.  The headliner would be Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, a nationally renowned contemporary swing revival band from Southern California.  The three opening acts would highlight the city.

Cheryl Warfield, a well-known opera singer, and brother of football star Paul Warfield would perform. Along with David Lee Morgan’s sister, famed pianist, Dana Kristina Joi Morgan, and Dennis Drummond himself.

At the end of 2019, I was halfway around the world living in Bali, Indonesia, but there was no way I was going to miss this night. I returned to Warren for the holidays, but more importantly for January 9, 2020.

I’ve had some pretty amazing moments/days/nights. I have sipped champagne at the top of the Eiffel Tower at midnight with the love of my life, my BFF, and her hubby.  I have overnighted on Mount Everest Base Camp where I witnessed the most glorious sunset. I’ve dined at the Captain’s Table on a cruise ship somewhere in the Mediterranean.  I’ve walked the same path the Dalai Lama walked in the Potala Palace in Tibet. I’ve climbed the Great Wall of China and visited the DMZ between North and South Korea.  I’ve stood at the Gate to Heaven at Pura Lempuyang, Bali, and have seen the 2200-year-old Terracotta Army of Emperor Qin in Xi’an, China.  In 2002, I watched the funeral procession of the Queen Mum in London.  I’ve ridden a camel in the Gobi Desert, had an “elephant massage” in Thailand, visited Angkor Wat, and exhumed, cleaned, and prepared a body for cremation in Peliatan, Bali, Indonesia.

The list could go on, but right now nothing can top January 9, 2020.

The night was like the Oscars.  The marquee was lit and flanked by spotlights seen for miles.  The red carpet was laid because all of Warren, Trumbull County, and NE Ohio were the stars. Swag bags were passed out by the high school football players.  It was a black-tie night and I was in my gown.  I live just around the corner from the theatre, a one-minute walk at most.  At about 6 pm, a white stretch limo pulls up and Mark, in his tuxedo, gets out of the car and walks to me.  He puts his arms around me, and I immediately start to cry.  This is the night he has been waiting for.  He escorts me to the limo and once inside, pours me a glass of champagne and says, “Here’s to mom and dad”.  The limo pulls away and drives around the block and Mark, Lori, and I, along with our family and friends walk the red carpet to the most amazing proudest night of my life.

The theatre is buzzing, people are oohing and ahhing and I know my brother is behind the curtain.  He told me as he stood back there, the pride he felt was unparalleled in his time on this earth.  He walked out to a standing ovation.

The theatre was at capacity (1350) and they all stood for him, but soon he told them, not for him, but for every single person who had a hand in the restoration.  He then, one by one introduced his tuxedo-clad crew.  They walked head held high and proud across the stage as he introduced each one and told what their part in the restoration was.  Then, he asked if everyone liked the chandelier and all the bling in the theatre.  Hands clapped and patrons yelled “yes” as he introduced the person responsible, the “person near and dear to his heart”, his wife, Lori.  It truly was a night to remember and the best night of my life, so far!

I got a little teary-eyed writing this. Sitting in the audience that night, it is without a doubt the proudest moment of my life.

It is believed that people’s earliest memories can often be traced back to age 2.5 ^[1].  According to David Copeland, Ph.D., “It might be difficult to pinpoint the one true ‘earliest memory’ for anyone.” Copeland also stated that early memories—even those reconstructed from external sources beyond what’s in our minds—can also play an important role in constructing the overall narrative of your life.  “For example, whether someone truly remembers the experience of falling off of a tricycle at age 3 or they learn about it from family members’ stories or from seeing pictures, it might not matter—as long as the event actually happened, it can be a part of one’s life narrative.”

Sitting here thinking about childhood memories, I recall photos from my first birthday which I have no recollection of.  I see photos of early holidays…my dad carrying me down the steps on Christmas morning…the table set for Easter dinner…playing in the snow and building “Fort Marvin” with my Aunts Pam and Jill…playing with them in a blow-up kiddie pool and Pam had a broken arm.

 

If  2.5 is the age when we may be able to recall memories then maybe the memory of looking at my baby brother in his bassinet is real, or it could be that I remember the photo of me looking at him.  Playing these photos and memories over in my mind, I decided I am going to write about a different memory…not my earliest, but one when I was eight years old.  I am choosing this one because it is one of my most vivid memories.  I am certain there are no photos to remind me of the event, yet I can picture it, smell it, and describe it as if it was yesterday.

I was fortunate in my childhood to have 2 sets of grandparents and 2 great-grandmothers.  One great-grandmother we called jet-grandma because she traveled, and we often had to take her to the airport to catch a plane.  Later in her life, my grandma Gehrlein also traveled.  She would take me with her on Anderson Tour bus excursions and she traveled twice to the “Holy Land”, including Gaza.  I’m certain back in Warren, Ohio, in boxes yet unpacked, I still have the beads made of olive wood that she brought me.  With two traveling grandmas, maybe the apple doesn’t fall too far.

Wednesday morning, December 30, 1970.  I was eight years old.  My brother and I were normally only allowed to eat on the floor in front of the television for Saturday morning cartoons.  All other meals were eaten at the dining room table.  That table now lives in my condo in Warren.  I’m not sure if it was because it was Christmas break or because of the situation that was evolving that we were eating breakfast in front of the TV.  I can picture our living room with the knotty pine paneling, the floor-model television, an avocado green stereo console, a large armchair, the couch behind us, a rocking chair beside us, and the giant live Christmas tree between the living room and dining room in front of the wall clock that I still have.  I was eating a bowl of Gerber’s baby food oatmeal.  I loved that stuff and ate it up into my teens. My brother, I am sure was eating some sugar-coated cereal like Captain Crunch.

My grandpa Gehrlein was in the hospital.  He had heart issues and also suffered from diabetes.  We had visited him on Christmas day at the hospital.  He had given me the first of my Madame Alexander Little Women Dolls. Our parents had been to the hospital that morning.  Our Aunt Dorothy, who lived with us, was home taking care of me and Mark.  When my parents came home, I remember getting up and running to my dad.  He picked me up.  He was wearing a black fisherman knit sweater, he rarely wore a coat, and I can still smell his “Old Spice” aftershave.  I could see that my mother was or had been crying.  That’s the moment we learned that our grandfather (my mother’s father) had died.

I don’t remember anything else about that day or the following days.  We had his funeral on January 1, 1971.  The only thing I recollect about that is that was the first time I remember having to deal with death.

I don’t know why that is such a vivid memory except,  according to Theresa L. White, Ph.D., “People often say that the sense of smell conjures up memories so well that they feel as if they were experiencing the event again,”  It is believed that memories of odors can be a backdrop to an emotional state.  To this day, I only need to see an advertisement for or a display of Old Spice, and I can recall how it smells and a memory of my dad.

My life is filled with memories, happy and sad, the stories of my life.  The older I get, the more I travel making memories along the way…the more I realize what a gift they are.  As Chief Seattle said, “Take only memories, leave only footprints.”

[1] Peterson C. What is your earliest memory? It depends. Memory. 2021;29(6):811-822. doi:10.1080/09658211.2021.1918174

The dictionary tells us that the adjective favorite means preferred above all others of the same kind.

As a kid, my favorite color was purple which I paired with Kelly green walls.  A bit psychedelic, but I did have two hippie chick aunts I looked up to. Currently, my favorite color is green…no, not Kelly green, but a more subtle sage.  When I saw today’s blog prompt, I thought, how can I pick a favorite?  It also made me think about how many times during my travels I am asked about my “favorites”.  What’s your favorite country?  What’s your favorite city?  What’s your favorite movie?  What’s your favorite book?  What’s your favorite song?  You get the idea and I get that it’s all part of the exercise of getting to know people.  I’m guilty of this myself.  When I have a new student or group of students it’s all part of the “get-to-know-you” routine.  However, I  have discovered instead of asking, “What’s your favorite movie?”, I get a much better response by saying, “Tell me about one of your favorite movies”, for instance.  This seems to alleviate the distress of having to choose one thing.  In the past, asking for a favorite anything usually got the response, “It depends”.  I understand that it can depend on a lot of things and admit it, favorites change.

So, back on topic.  On my phone, in my photo gallery,  I keep a plethora of quotes.  I keep them in albums based on the subject.  For example, I have albums called “Dream Believe”, “Life”, “Friendship”, “Notes to Self”, and “Wanderlust”.  I guess you could say I collect quotes because I also have pages in my journals (I keep multiples of those too) dedicated to quotes.

I have tossed around several great quotes that I like.  Mother Theresa, “ I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the water to create many ripples.”  Albert Einstein, “The one who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd.  Those who walk alone are likely to find themselves in places no one has ever been before.”  S.M. Klees, “There’s a quiet comfort in knowing I have not yet crossed paths with all the people who will bring magic into my life.”, and Terry Pratchett, “Why do you go away? So that you can come back, so that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors and the people there see you differently, too.  Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”

Ultimately, the quote I chose, I keep in an album called “Me”.  It is a quote from Zelda Fitzgerald.  “She quietly expected great things to happen to her.  No doubt that’s one of the reasons why they did.”  This quote reminds me that attitude is important.  It also reminds me of my dad and something he always said to us.  If I was struggling to do something, if I complained about being too hot or too cold, if something hurt, etc, I remember him saying, “Mind over matter”.  He told us that we could do anything if we just put our minds to it.  I remember being on the gymnastics team in Junior High School.  I was struggling with a move on the uneven bars.  He told me to start visualizing and doing it successfully.  I would fall asleep thinking about nothing else.  Now, I didn’t wake up the next day and master the move, but it wasn’t long before I nailed it.  I think this is similar to what Zelda is saying.  Many people think about the what-ifs and the worst things that can happen.  I choose to think about the great or at least good things that can happen.

I recently re-read a book, “The Café on the Edge of the World”, by John Strelecky.  One of the key messages in the book states, “People who have found their purpose, magically attract happiness.”   You know, that feeling of bliss when things just fall into place.  When you go with the flow and do what you enjoy, the world can seem full of happy coincidences. But are those really just coincidences? Or is there some other magical force at work? Is it mind over matter?  Did you make it happen?  When you do something that fulfills you, your whole aura changes. Your eyes light up just talking about it.  Your energy is so contagious that other people are happy to support you.  Again, I think this is what Zelda was talking about and why I chose it as my quote.  In the end, being raised by parents who always told you that you, yourself had the power to be great, make great things happen, and do whatever you wanted in life, not always following society’s norms certainly molded me into the person I am today.  My advice, expect great things!  No, everything won’t always be great, because face it, sometimes life is shit. But more times than not, things will work out!

Blog writing challenge day two – Twenty facts about me.  Day two and it’s a tough one.  Most people, in my opinion, don’t like to talk about themselves for fear of being judged, they don’t like bragging, they don’t think their life is interesting, or they are afraid of exposing their weaknesses.

One thing I have learned in the last ten years of basically solo travel is that if you want to make connections, meet people, and immerse yourself in the local scene you need to talk about yourself.  One of my favorite travel movies is “A Map For Saturday”. In the movie, most backpackers admit to the five questions that everyone eventually asks.  They are; where have you been?,  where are you going?, where are you from?, how long are you traveling? and, how long have you been traveling?.  And no, what is your name isn’t in the top five.  Another thing I have learned is that people are genuinely interested in what you have to say, especially being an expat.  In the last 4 years that I have lived in Poland, one question I am asked quite often is, ”Why Poland?”.  I have been asked so many times, that I even wrote a blog about it: https://wendyjmarvin.com/2021/12/26/why-poland-theres-more-to-this-country-than-pierogi/.

On with the subject and I’ll try to make them as interesting as possible, but twenty facts doesn’t seem like an easy task.

I have a severe case of wanderlust.  My mother always told me I had the travel bug since birth.  I was born in Kimbrough Army Hospital, Fort Meade, Maryland.  Before I was born, not knowing he was going to be a father, my dad had a serious jeep accident while on maneuvers.  36 facial fractures and weeks in a coma, he was medically discharged 2 days after I was born and I went on my first road trip at 3 days old.  It wasn’t a long journey (from Fort Meade, Maryland to Warren, Ohio) but my mother swore it started my wanderlust.

I left the hospital nameless, well, as Female Marvin.   I guess it was allowed back in the day.  I was eventually named for Wendy from “Peter Pan”,  Keeper (mother) of Lost Boys.  Given my current situation, it might be fitting.

 

I have one brother, who is my best friend and biggest supporter.

I have visited 47 countries and if you throw in all the territories, like Hong Kong and Tibet which are part of China, that number would be well over 50.  I don’t count countries that I have only been to the airport.  5 hours in the airport in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia does not count as a country visited.

I loved reading National Geographic Magazine. Even though my mom claimed my wanderlust started at 3 days, I am fairly certain that my dad’s subscription to National Geographic magazine fueled it even more.  I loved perusing them cover to cover.  I now search out and purchase old issues that highlight places I have been.

I have eaten donkey meat, horse tartare, and a camel burger. 

I can (probably should read could) ride a unicycle. When I was about 6 or 7 years old, one of the only things I wanted for Christmas was a unicycle.  Santa came through and I learned to ride.  I even rode in the Pete Gabriel’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade when I was 12 or 13.  I probably wouldn’t attempt to get on one now with my bad knees and back, but I do remember giving it a go again on my 50^th birthday just for shits and giggles.

My favorite color is green – sage green to be exact.

I was the first girl to play Little League in my town.  Although I played with dolls and such growing up, my dad loved baseball.  Whenever he played with my brother, and coaching his gadget ball team (I was the bat girl), he always let me play/practice too.  I had my own glove, a black one, for some reason I didn’t want the typical brown glove. Sunday mornings after Sunday School, he would take us to the ball field at Laird Avenue School and hit balls with us for an hour or so until it was time for my mom to get home from church.  I got pretty good and that’s how I ended up being the first girl in our city to play Little League.  I even played on Stan O’Day’s All-Star Team one year.

I love to cook.  Baking – forget about it!

I am halfway there.  If you have stuck with me, you still have 10 more facts to go.

I have lived in four countries other than the USA. Since we have already determined that I have had a passion for travel for a long time and if you know anything about me, it probably won’t come as a surprise that I have always had a love for Paris.  Wearing berets as a young girl and pretending I could speak French.  I think I always knew I would one day live in Paris and I did. If you read yesterday’s post, that is how this blog got started.  Since living in Paris, I also lived 4 years in China, 5 months in Bali, and currently just over 4 years in Poland.  I often say Paris is my heart and Bali is my soul.

I don’t own and don’t plan on owning a TV.  I haven’t watched television in over 10 years and have no plans to get a TV when I go back to the States. No, I don’t have a return date.  Life is short and the world is wide.

I love gin, and slightly dirty martinis with bleu cheese-stuffed olives. I visited the Beefeater’s Distillery in London with my friend Teri. I somehow convinced them to open the showcase and let me try on the crown.  I also came home with a lot of Beefeater bags. Cheers!

I broke my back in China. When I returned to the USA after living in Paris, I knew life on that side of the pond wasn’t what I wanted.  Little did I know when I started looking at ways to live abroad, that I would end up halfway around the world in a small village called Xiashan.  I lived in this village for 6 months (August 2015-February 2016) and fell in love with China.  6 months turned into 4 years. When I was living in my 4^th city in China, Dong’e, I was in an accident on my scooter and suffered a broken back.  A funny story, I even thought it was funny before they wheeled me off for my 6-7-hour surgery. I had to have a “cage”  (rods and stuff) to “fix’ my broken back.  It would connect 3 vertebrae.  I spent about 36 hours in the ICU while my family was contacted in the USA and all my X-rays and MRI were reviewed by doctors there. Everyone agreed the surgery was necessary, but before they would do the surgery, I had to decide if I would accept “made in China” hardware or if I wanted to wait and get the hardware from the USA. Those 36 hours hadn’t been fun and I said, “Give me made in China.” The funny part, well I think it is funny, I had to sign a document (written in Chinese) that I was offered hardware from the USA but I accepted the made-in-China hardware.

I hate driving.

I have walked the Great Wall of China. My interest in China was sparked by former President Richard Nixon in February 1972.  He became the first president to visit the PRC, People’s Republic of China, ending 25 years of no communication or diplomatic ties between the two countries.  His visit also allowed the American public to view images of China for the first time in over two decades.  I remember he ate the fermented (black) eggs.  Other than whatever knowledge a 9-year-old would get in school, Nixon’s visit sparked my interest in the “Middle Kingdom”.  I remember thinking it would be cool to see/walk the Great Wall of China.  I fulfilled that dream several times over walking on 4 different sections of the Great Wall.  I even made it to the beginning/end where the wall meets the Bohai Sea.  I also have the National Geographic Issue about the discovery of the Terracotta Army and have been fortunate to see it twice.

I have helped exhume a body for cremation. While living in Paris, I became friends with Julie who worked at my favorite café.  She had a dream to move to Bali and made me promise I would visit her when she made this dream come true.  In February 2018, I made my first visit to Bali to visit her.  I decided I wanted to go to Ubud before I met up with Julie.  This is how I met my Balinese Family whom I love dearly.  In the few short days I stayed with them, they introduced me to the Balinese culture and traditions.  Before I left, they invited me to return in August to be a part of a Ngaben or cremation ceremony.  I did return and they included me as part of their family.  At 2 am the morning of the cremation, I accompanied them to the burial grounds of the temple to exhume Ketut’s mother’s body.

I have stood in Red Square in Moscow.

 

I have camped on Mount Everest Base Camp.  Long before I came to China, I had an interest in Tibet, and meeting the Dalai Lama is on my bucket list.  Yes, I know he no longer lives in Tibet, that aside, how could I live in China and not visit Tibet?  Getting to Tibet isn’t as easy as jumping on a train or plane and getting off in Lhasa.  An individual cannot enter Tibet without a travel permit and a Tibetan guide.  In other words, an individual cannot just turn up in Lhasa hang out for a few days and travel around the region. I was living in Hunan Province and it seemed like the time was ripe. In Shenzhen, I would begin my 53-hour train ride to “The Roof of the World’ or “The Land of Snows”, otherwise known as Tibet.  Because I had to have a guide and join a tour, one of my must-do’s was Base Camp.  I will never forget how I felt watching the sunset on that mighty mountain.  Or when I was outside my tent, alone at 4 am, and it looked like a billion stars in that night sky.

I plan to leave Poland at the end of this year and become a true Nomad for an undetermined amount of time.

There you have it.  20 facts about me.  But the most important fact about me is that I couldn’t have done all this without my family and friends.  Some of you have been friends for life, some I will never see again.  The support and encouragement you have given me is amazing.  A bonus fact:  My dream is to put my story into a book.  Thanks for being a part of my chapters.