Reflections

Somewhere west of Bismarck, North Dakota, headed for London via Greenland at 37,000 feet

Waiting for my flight to London this morning, I met a woman in the terminal who was headed for London to meet her husband and spend a few days there. She is a patent attorney (working with pharmaceutical companies) from Chicago, and she travels a lot. We fell to talking about places we had been, and that started me thinking back to some of the places I have been privileged to visit in the last few years.

A few stand out:

Peru: Waking up to see the sun rising over the sun gate, and then hiking up to it from the Sanctuary at Macchu Picchu on the Inca Trail. How many sunrises did the ancient Inca see when he spent time there, and how many thousands of footsteps trod those same stones? The empire was tied together with thousands of runners who carried messages over those same stones, memorialized in knotted cords (The Incas seem not to have a written language).

And then spending 10 days on the Amazon river in a small ship, waking up to watch the sunrise, then cruising the river and its tributaries, looking for birds and strange plants, then drifting down a tributary one night in an open boat, watching the Milky Way slowly materialize overhead as the jungle came alive with night sounds.

India: Drifting on another river, this time the Ganges, watching a different sunset, seeing a funeral pyre suddenly flare and a skull briefly silhouetted by the flames, then setting little paper boats with lit candles in them afloat, while a priest chanted prayers for the departed.

Seeing the moon rise over the Tai Mahal. Spending time on the backwaters in southern India, meeting young students in a school who eagerly pored over the map of California that I had brought them to understand where I was from.

Russia: Visiting Catherine’s palace and being serenaded unexpectedly by a men’s acappella singing group in her coffee house (she insisted on making her own coffee, making her the world’s first royal barista!)

And attending a performance of the ballet after visiting the Hermitage in St. Petersburg.

The Baltic’s: Meeting a woman who had been deported by the Russians to Siberia in a boxcar as a child, seen her mother die of starvation (and her body put out to be eaten by the wolves because it was impossible to dig graves into the permafrost) and forced to live in inhuman conditions while fishing for the Russians. At the end of her talk, one of the people in our group, an Indian woman, knelt and touched her feet in respect, while the rest of us sobbed.

Cuba: Attending a performance of young children who are enrolled in one of the many children’s musical programs. One little boy stole the show: He seated himself on the edge of the stage and, dead panned, sang a song, while little girls danced behind him, pretending to be chickens who have laid an egg (and the baby chick who hatches). Throughout the performance, he never lost his cool, obviously projecting: “Yes, I know there are girls behind me making fools of themselves, but I am a professional, and I PUT UP WITH IT so that I can sing you this wonderful song!

Iran: Standing in Persepolis, looking at the famous staircase that shows all the envoys who came to bring tribute to the king, and then walking amongst the stone pillars that must have awed their visitors.

Then going to the tomb of the famous poet, Rami, and reading his poetry in what must have been his garden. And suddenly being inundated by school children, who heard that I was taking Polaroid pictures and clamored for one. My tour leader had to come and rescue me when my film ran out!

Turkey: Floating over Cappadocia in a hot air balloon – drifting in the early morning silence, surrounded by a hundred colorful balloons, looking down on the surreal landscape. One of the people in the balloon told the pilot that she had heard that you could pick apricots off the trees from the balloon. “No,” he said, “there aren’t any apricots now, but, here – you can pick a leaf.” And with that, he maneuvered the balloon down to within picking distance of the trees. And, when we landed, he brought the basket in which we were traveling down on top of the trailer that carries it from the field to its hanger. – show off!

Later, attending a worship service of the Whirling Dervish, held in an ancient caravansary. Haunting music, echoing off the vaults, and mesmerizing patterns….

Africa: Sitting (in an open Land Rover) no more than 6 feet from a magnificent male lion, who every so often opened his eyes, raised his head, and gazed at me – letting me know that I was there on sufferance. A day later, finding a young family of lions – the father and several females with at least a half dozen cubs who communicated with lion-sounds. The cubs found a fallen tree to treat as a jungle gym when Dad roared at them not to bother him. But at the end of an hour, as the sun was going down, the elder lioness rose, called to the cubs, and the entire group left – time to hunt!

Being charged by a female elephant who took umbrance at us stopping to take pictures of her and her cub. Sitting in an open Land Rover and watching a (probably) 2 year old male elephant methodically strip a tree of its branches, then wave them with its trunk before placing them in its mouth – when that happened, our driver would say “eek” and back up a couple of feet, otherwise we would have been “Bush wacked” – sorry, bad pun – but you get the idea of how close we were to the elephant!

Australia: Visiting the sacred rock of Uluru, walking around its perimeter, amazed by the life giving springs of water at its base. Then toasting the sunset with champagne as it fell behind the rock. Yes, 110 degrees Fahrenheit the next day, but nonetheless, our tour leader served us ice cream for snack in the afternoon (I had complained that I didn’t get any in Alice Springs!)

Diving on the Great Barrier Reef – what can I say – except that it was indescribable.

So yes, travel is a life changing experience. I am on my way to Great Britain. My ancestry on my mother’s side is Scottish, and on my father’s is English, so it seems like the appropriate place to go. After seeing so many other places in the world, I am going back to my roots.

Mary

Published in London, England 9/2/18