Jungle equals rain, just so you know

I was convinced to go to the jungle by the group I toured Quito with on day one.  I hadn't planned this for my time in Ecuador but they made such a good case.  I teach World Cultures and in the jungle I would meet an indigenous tribe. I would be exposed to their customs and traditions.  Since I don't teach ancient history the ruins I was planning to go and see became less important.

The trip to the jungle either required an overnight bus ride or a plane ride from Quito.  I wanted to save time and the flight was cheap so I hopped a plane and headed to Lago Agrio.  The flight was short and as we landed the weather changed from sunny and warm in Quito to torrential downpours and warmish.  As we disembarked there were men with machine guns and a man handing us an umbrella.  The machine guns were, as it turns out, to protect people from drug runners.  The umbrellas were something I would wish I had the whole time I was in the jungle along with my own rain jacket which I didn't pack because I wasn't going to the jungle.

At the airport we were met by a bus and loaded up to head to the jungle.  As we drove our guide told us about the area but he mostly spoke of the pipeline which ran next to the road.  This pipeline has had such drastic effects on the area.  The area we were headed to is a national park however, the government allowed oil drilling in the national park.  The drilling and subsequent piping was great for the economy but environmentally it has been a disaster.

The pipeline has polluted the rivers, the groundwater and the soil.  The people of the area have been made ill because of this but their lives have not been protected.  The native tribes were not allowed a say in the drilling and the contact with the outside world has been damaging to them as well.  As if the oil was not enough there were also large swaths of deforested areas.  Our guide explained that the people take down the trees, till the field to plant things like bananas but the soil isn't good for growing them so they continue to have to take down more trees and repeat the process.  While I was there the road to Quito was washed out because of landslides and the landslides were attributed to deforestation and the torrential rains that have been hitting as a result of global warming. I teach about these topics but to see it for myself was stunning and heartbreaking.

After two hours we arrived at the river which we would follow into the jungle.  We were served a nice lunch while our luggage was loaded onto a boat and covered with huge heavy tarps.  As we at it poured and poured.  We were given rain jackets for the boat ride thankfully.  I was given a seat in the front of the boat and tried my best to get my rain poncho into a position to keep me dry.  Once everyone was loaded we took off down the river.  Our goal would be to spot animals along the way.  Our guide spoke Spanish but he was easy to understand because he spoke slowly and he was talking about animals so I could figure things out.  On the way in we spotted some monkeys in the treetops.  I learned quickly how difficult it is to photograph a monkey. They move quickly and are so far away because the trees are so tall.  In this jungle there were 7 types of monkeys and on my jungle adventure I would be lucky enough to see 6 of them.  It was pouring so hard on the boat ride in that we didn't stop much.  Each time we did whatever water had puddled on my rain poncho ended up draining onto some new part of me that had previously been dry.  By the time we made it to the lodge I was soaked.

The lodge was nestled along the river and next door to another lodge.  We were told it was siesta time and in a few hours we would go out again.  Siesta would not be my friend during this jungle time.  Usually I can deal with siesta by walking, swimming or hiking through it.  But in the jungle all I could do was sit in a hammock and read.  I was very anxious and on edge the whole time.  There was no way to leave the lodge grounds.  I was trapped in my own personal siesta hell.  I just don't have the personality for it.  I listened to the rain which made me even more crazy.  I was going to have to figure out how to enjoy this time.  Day one's lesson: Poverty leads to devastation but so does wealth.

The Grass-covered Pasochoa Mountain in the Andes

This place makes me want to abandon my work life and live off the grid but not necessarily here.  It is inspiring to look around and see how people sustain themselves without the need for modernity.  The most significant problem I have with this plan is I would still need money to travel to other places in the world and homeschooling the boys would be difficult and likely unwelcome.

The mountains surrounding Cotopaxi are covered in a thick layer of grasses all the way to the top.  The grasses wave in the wind and look like the rolling sea.  I am surrounded by these mountains and farms at unheard of elevations but this is near the equator and things are different.  Where I am staying they mainly grow herbs but as we drove in I couldn't believe the variety.

Today we have all sat down to fill up on a good breakfast so that we could prepare our bodies to hike Pasochoa.  This mountain stands at 4,220 meters, translation 13, 845 feet.  It will be a challenge for sure but I feel up to it.  So far I have adjusted to the elevation but hiking with sustained exerted effort will be more difficult.  We are promised a snack of banana cake and tea at the top plus views of the Valley of the Volcanoes.

We start out the hike in the same direction of the waterfall hike from the previous day but this time we stay up on top of the ridge.  We still hike through forest and banks of clay carved deeply for walking. At times the sides are up to my shoulders.  There are tiny berries ripening which the locals love to come and harvest.  They are like a huckleberry or blueberry but the bush they grow on looks entirely different and they are not as sweet. The branches of the trees are draped with mosses and other unusual plants like bromeliads.  

As we emerge from the forest we are high on the hillside overlooking the valley of Cotopaxi.  We hike along an ancient Incan canal still in use by the local farmers.  Below us we can see the canyon of the waterfall and a third waterfall along the same waterway we hiked the previous day.  For this view the canyon is so deep you would have no idea what lies within. Along the canal are little shrubs and above hills of grasses.  A creature slips into the canal for a swim, a rodent of some kind.  Later on in the hike the dogs who have come with us, a dalmatian and dachshund will chase rabbits up this steep mountain.  Our guide tells us when they catch something the locals love to cook it up.  The canal portion was the easiest part of this hike.  It was relatively flat.

Our guide was informative about each portion of the trail and as we eased away from the canal he told us the next part would be challenging.  We would climb 100 meters with an 80% incline.  He encouraged everyone to step slowly.  I fell to the middle of the pack, not as fast as most of the men but the fastest woman for that day.  The dogs were the fastest in the group, racing ahead and bounding up even the steepest portions.  We took a break at the top of the 100 meters to let everyone catch their breath.  The next section would be a steady climb which was easier but the altitude was increasing with each step. This steady climb was a longer section as well so we were able to hike without a break until we came to a bowl.  This bowl was not the crater but it looked as if it could be and again it was covered in grasses.  Another break was in order and then the toughest parts of the climb.

I gazed up to our goal and the guide pointed out the path.  It was steep and as he described it, "It is interesting."  He couldn't describe how difficult this portion would be.  I never doubted making it to the top but I related to Ina who said, "Why do I feel like I smoked 6 packs of cigarettes?" I might not have felt quite that bad but breathing was hard when you were climbing straight up.  Portions felt like stairs and others felt like they were on an 80% incline again or maybe more.  The source of the water crossed the trail and I had to navigate around it.  At times I was clenching the grass and at times I just let it grace my fingers gently as I went by.

The summit provided the promised views of the valley.  It was difficult to photograph but I still have the picture in my mind.  We were not at the highest summit around but we could see them all.  We could also see Quito sprawled out in the valley.  The crater is covered in trees all the way to the rim and I am surprised, shocked by this.  It seems odd to have trees growing at such an elevation.  We celebrate our victory with sweet tea, banana cake and sandwiches.  We take the time to pose at the peak for pictures before descending down a different path.

On the journey down we see wild horses who must be so content living in these grass-covered hills.  The dogs didn't catch anything today but are still full of energy on the way down. This climb only makes me long to climb even more of the surrounding peaks but my visit is too short.  I will have to return.

The canyon where we had hiked to the waterfall

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The top of Pasochoa still in the distance

The crater

4,220- no problem

Bromeliads

Cotopaxi

 

Narnia

How can a place look so diverse?  Our earth never ceases to amaze me in all its created beauty.  After settling into our cabins and having a delicious soup for lunch we were given the opportunity to try on mud boots for the hike to the waterfall.  Our guide Jack kept joking that he hoped he remembered the way and along the way I certainly saw that we retraced our tracks but after all he had only been there once before.

The path led us down the driveway across a field and into a forest.  This forest was taken straight from Narnia complete with a large creek, trout, moss-covered drooping trees and plentiful rocks.  At times we hiked in the water hence the mud boots.  At other points we were grabbing the roots of trees to pull us along the cliff at the water's edge.  And my favorite part was the rock climbing the side of one of the waterfalls.  The water was cold as it tumbled down from the high Andes peaks.  The sun peaked through the branches lighting our path but not warming it.  Long-sleeves were certainly in order and I knew at this point I would not be jumping in.

The hike took a couple of hours and the whole time I just was taking in the scenery.  The creek bed was so isolated.  The steep cliffs let only those who knew the way explore. (Narnia)  We had to rely on each other's help to guide each of our steps.  The hike was not an easy one but the whole time I couldn't help but think of how much my boys would enjoy it.  They would have been up for the challenge.  The pictures I took will not do this place justice.  Imagine the sounds of the water at times falling and at times moving slowly.  Imagine the sides of the creek so wet that each foot placement held the importance of life and death.  A fall here would not bring a quick response.

Each time we reached a waterfall we asked if this was the one, the goal.  Only after we had scaled one did we find the ending fall we were awaiting.  It was actually a double fall.  The large was in the back and fell into a shallow but wide pool.  The smaller fell into a deeper pool but even at its deepest was only 4 meters.  Two brave souls donned swimming attire and made the plunge for a free drink back at the lodge.  They didn't stay long because of the frigid temperature.  I climbed up to gaze at it and contemplate.  Immediately I knew my sister would make this plunge but I didn't have it in me.  Cold water for me is like a death sentence.

We hiked out a different path and quickly were up on top with a view of Cotopaxi which was just peaking out of the clouds.  On the way back it slowly emerged from its clouded seclusion in all its snow-capped glory.  And we, we were all grateful.

The rock face waterfall we climbed.

The final double waterfall. 

Into the area of Cotopaxi

I left Quito for my stay in the mountains, not that Quito isn't mountainous being the second highest capital in the world, but I was headed to a more rural mountain area.  Our van was packed and I had to ride on the jump seat which would be reasonable on reasonable roads.  The roads leaving Quito were smooth and nicely paved but that was not to last.

We turned off the main road to head to our location overlooking Cotopaxi.  The road up was cobbled but with large cobbles.  It was far from smooth and I was being jostled in that little seat with barely a cushion.  The road wound around up and down and past many farms.  I was stunned by the variety of things being grown in this high region of the world.  Of course there were potatoes which had been domesticated here, and I had eaten them daily since arriving.  But there were so many other things being grown.  Huge squashes and pumpkins sat ready to pick on the vine.  Artichokes jutted out of their stems.  Corn was planted neatly in rows on hillsides.  Amaranth stocks graced some gardens. Animals were tethered all over the sides of the roads, a brilliant way to feed and maintain the overgrowth.  It was clear the population was trying to sustain itself through the crops and animals and it seemed as if they were doing a wonderful job of it.

The next thing I was struck by was our driver's lack of concern for people walking and other cars.  I watched an elderly lady crossing the road with a small child be hurried across by his forceful driving.  I wondered how a culture would develop this lack of concern or care.  Cars were of no concern either.  The driver several times would pass around blind corners and quickly dash in front of the car he had just passed but even stranger the drivers would then always give two toots of their horn, both our driver and the others.  Our driver did not hold the exclusive on this type of driving.  He was passed as many times as he passed others.  The road was slow going for the most part because of its structure.

Finally we turned down the dirt/rocky road to our destination; The Secret Garden Cotopaxi.  Off in the distance the hostel sat against a grass covered hill.  Each building with its unique style was set perfectly against a spectacular background.  The view of Cotopaxi was obscured but the surrounding landscape gave a taste for what would come when the mountain decided to show its face.  This place was perfectly situated and perfectly built.  The rooms blended in with the natural setting and the furnishings were all natural as well. Wooden, custom built bunks lined the edge of my cabin with wood stove in the middle.  We had been promised a waterfall hike a bit later and I couldn't wait to explore.

A good home base-Quito, Ecuador

I landed in Quito late at night and was tired from having been on east coast time since I traveled directly from New York City.  The taxi ride in was long and I could barely keep my eyes open.  They have built a new airport outside the city and ingeniously re-purposed the old using it as a park.  I strained to keep my eyes open and observe the city.  The road was very well built as it wound down from on high to the edge of old town and my shelter for the next two nights.  We pulled up, I spoke to the night guard and he showed me to my private room with a shared bath.  I had chosen to splurge on the first two days because I knew I would arrive late and need a good nights sleep.  The room had wood floors and a comfy double bed.  There was even a tiny window above my bed that looked out upon the city.  I slept well that night and the next.

The next morning I climbed the stairs to the rooftop of the hostel and ordered breakfast.  The view was amazing from this location.  I could literally see all of Quito including the Virgin Mary statue, teleferico, many churches and plazas.  The breakfast was simple; yogurt, homemade roll, fruit and granola.  Immediately I started chatting with other travelers.  I met a total of ten teachers on this trip and the first person I met in Quito just happened to be one.  He was traveling from Quebec with his family; wife and three kids.  His family was still tired from the plane ride.  He told me they had walked Quito the day before with the guide and then without.  He said the unguided tour was better because you could take your time.  After his family arose I met Amy, a future doctor who had been studying/practicing medicine in Ecuador and was now on her own to travel before returning to the states.  We decided to go on the walking tour together and since we both liked learning a bit about a place choose the guided tour first.  Gabby would be our guide and three others joined us, Steve and Nikki, a couple from Australia traveling all of South America and Nick another American traveling solo.

Gabby was well educated on the history of the sites of Quito and guided us giving us caution about our bags and cameras.  She would tell us when it was safe to have them out and when it was not. The one location where she had us go inside was the Benalcazar House which signifies the beginning of old town.  They display Ecuadorian artwork as well but the most interesting part of this house was the entrance.  There are bones inlaid to ward off evil, some human bones and some animal.

 Gabby guided us through the two main plazas and then left us at the convent and told us of the tunnels which ran underneath.  Within these tunnels were the stages of Ecuadorian history and artwork from each stage which had been replicated for sale.  There were some very unusual pieces of a sexual nature, surprising for being sold in a convent.   There were a few places Gabby had pointed out that we all wanted to revisit later and after she left us that is just what we did.

First we all needed food.  Gabby had told us about her favorite juice bar which also served delicious empanadas.  Just as she promised it was delicious.  After we were nourished we made a plan. We wanted to go to the Virgin Mary statue but it was unsafe to walk the path up there as muggings were common.  We shared a cab, all five of us jamming into one.  That made the ride cheap.  The cab wound its way up the hill and to the park where Mary's wings were outstretched and her eyes overlooked the city.  This is the only Mary with wings we were told.  She is made of metal square panels and you can climb inside to the viewing platform.  The views of the city were well worth it.  There were also vendors lining the park with their wares in these very nicely made stalls.

A man began to talk with me when we had walked over to the park portion.  He happened to be a tour guided and explained his English was so good because he had a English girlfriend in the past.  He hit on me with the line, "You know the best way to learn a language is to take a lover who speaks it." It still makes me chuckle.  This guy had nothing appealing about him whatsoever.  He was short, round and not handsome.  I told him I knew Italian better than Spanish to get rid of him and luckily or unluckily an Italian man came to my rescue upon hearing that.  I felt bad because I haven't been practicing my Italian since I was traveling to a Spanish speaking country so I couldn't really communicate but at least he saved me from the creeper and graciously snapped photos of the group.

We took the bus back down the hill, much more economical at .50 cents but it dropped us off in the wrong part of town up on the hills in the west.  We then had to make our way down and back up to the churches we wished to visit, no small task in Quito the second highest capital.  You have to walk slowly and I couldn't even imagine trying to exercise aggressively at this elevation.

The gold church, Inglesia de La Compania de Jesus, was our next stop.  The gold church is nicknamed such because the inside is completely covered in gold.  The problem with a gold church is that people who are poor would like some gold so in the past they would scrape little flakes off in order to sell.  The church is very well protected now.  As you visit you can see the places where people took a little gold home.  The gold was excessive and not attractive at all.  I really don't understand the appeal of it.  Just because it is shiny doesn't make it valuable, at least not to my eyes.  Besides so many poor people could be taken care of with the amount of gold in this church.
It was over the top and showed the history of Spanish conquest in graphic form. In other words, "we don't care about these people who live here but we would like to take all of their gold and use it to build a church that is on the way to one of their worship sites just to influence them to be like us. Oh and if they don't agree we will just kill them."

Next was the cathedral which was only recently finished and though is made to resemble Notre Dame is made of modern materials such as concrete.  Instead of gargoyles, this cathedral has all the significant animals of Ecuador such as armadillos, tortoises and iguanas. It is called the Basilica del Voto Nacional.  There are three towers that can be climbed and so we did but the best part was a restaurant bar tucked into one of the towers where we ordered beer and wine, yes in a church. Cheers to a great first day in Quito!!!

The Man in the Piazza

The hot Tuscan sun beats down on my back while a breeze gently swirls my hair in and out of my face. Clouds pass by slowly, light and fluffy, non-threatening today.  A dark man in a pressed blue Italian shirt leans out of his window three stories up, peering over the square.  His salt and pepper hair contrasts perfectly with the dark behind the window.  His watch reflects the sunlight onto the stone building.  He has those eyes that draw me in, the ones with the deeply creased lines showing a lifetime lived smiling, enjoying what he's been given.

I sit in the square, suitcase in hand, waiting for my train but unwilling to go inside the stuffy station.  I have too many hours to wait and too much of Italy to still soak in.  It is my last day in what has been my longest stay in Italy to date.  This square reminds me of all the reasons I love this place and keep returning.

There are fragrant roses of pink and white stripes in geometric patterns all over the square.  Two tall obelisk stand at opposite ends of the square and when the sun gets too hot I take refuge in their shade.  There are multiple cafe's within my eyesight and of course a gelateria.  Young men sit talking with their hands while their cigarette smoke spins with each movement. People pass by in a frenzy to catch a train or perhaps a bus, few sit and savor the view.

From here there is the church decorated in stone of green and red hues.  And the hills of Fiesole behind the church look green and inviting.  If only there were a place I could drop this bag.  I could spend this time more wisely but maybe sitting and savoring the moment was just what I needed most.  I venture no further than a cafe where I grab a smoothie to stem my hunger and then back out I go to the square to sit and ponder and observe.

The ambulance comes several times by with its blaring horn.  These are the horns my boys said they couldn't wait to get away from.  They are loud and terrifying and then just down right annoying. The police also pass by more than once.  Their uniforms, stylish, make them even more attractive than they otherwise might be.  A couple walks hand in hand.  They gaze at each other in that newlywed, so in love way.

The man on the balcony finally finishes his phone conversation.  I have gazed up occasionally to watch him and imagine who he is talking with.  Now he stands, leaning casually over the railing staring down as I gaze up.  He is handsome and obviously wealthy based on the hotel where he is staying and the suit which he so elegantly occupies.

I was hoping this day to see my friend but alas work has kept him.  His story was one I wanted to hear more of.  His story is the kind of story that makes anyone count their blessings.  It is tragic and he is young and he should have much more in life.  But of course, he is satisfied for now with safety and clothes, a job and food. Why is the world so filled with sadness?  Why does life have to be so hard?

And yet here in this square I can forget all of that.  I can look at a church built hundreds of years ago that has withstood the tragedies of this life and brought healing to some.  I can look around the square and see happiness, contentment and fulfillment.  I can gaze from below at the crowd, hiding behind my suitcase and sunglasses while the man gazes from above sheltered by the balcony and distance, both observers of a world in motion, appreciating a moment and sharing perspective.

Getting Lost in Order to Be Found

Never be scared to be lost in a new city, sometimes you have to be lost to be found.  On the first day in each new place I have visited I have had to get my bearings which usually involves getting lost in order to be found.  This summer proved no different.  In fact, the pressure and responsibility of having more people with me may have even made it occur more often.  Or, at least, I noticed it more. I did let the kids know that it wasn't a big deal to get lost in a new place and that sometimes by getting lost you really were being found.  What follows is a few stories of our lost moments and those moments when we were found.

In Rome on our first day we took a bus into the city from the camp.  The first bus took us to the depot area. We had to get off that bus and embark on another to actually get us where we wanted to go, the Colosseum.  I asked using my Italian which bus we needed.  We received what I thought were great instructions and off we went down the road to catch that bus.  We needed the 46 bus. We did pass by a Metro station but the bus, according to those at the camp, was easier.  We waited for the bus and in no short time along it came.  We climbed aboard and were on our first adventure.  This bus wound through neighborhood after neighborhood, up and down the hills of Rome, letting off and on passengers with their bags from the market, or an occasional businessman heading home for lunch.  Finally we arrived at yet another depot. I was confused as we departed because I didn't recognize the surroundings but I figured the center of Rome could be close by.  We exited and climbed a nearby hill.  I thought if I looked out I could surely figure out how close we were to our destination.  No such luck.  We had been misled.  We were near a hospital but nothing else.  I went to a nearby coffee stand and once again asked for help.  My Italian was not good enough for the woman behind the counter.  She and I could understand a little of each other but not enough.  She enlisted the help of another man.  His English was as good as my Italian and between the three of us and one more bystander we figured out that there were two number 46 buses and we had boarded the wrong one, of course.  We needed to get back on another bus and return to our place of departure.  With many thanks I left and gathered the children and went back to the terminal.  We climbed aboard another bus and sure enough actually made it to the center of Rome. We were found.  Once in the center of Rome I had no problems finding all of the places we wanted to visit and getting home that night was easy because we had been lost to begin with.  We knew all the wrong roads and buses.

And then there was Florence.  When we made it to Florence via train I had directions in my hand, written in English, on how to get to the camp plus I had been to Florence before.  This should have been easy but of course it was not.  We left the station and crossed the street to the bus station that was in front of the McDonald's, just as the directions instructed.  We kept waiting and looking for the right bus number.  This time we needed the number 12.  We waited, and melted in the heat of Florence but no bus 12 came along.  I asked everyone to keep their eyes open at each of the bus stops, the ones across the street and in front of the train station and to be looking for that bus number.  We stood for along time before I was finally able to ask a bus driver who was not immediately departing.  Sure enough we needed to be across the street.  As soon as I got that answer, Max piped up, "I saw that bus on the other side."  Really! We trucked our luggage back across the street and boarded the bus.  This bus ride was an adventure of its own and more like a carnival ride than a city bus ride.  The driver loved weaving through traffic at breakneck speed.  Our balance was challenged with every turn especially considering we each had some rolling luggage that didn't want to stay put.  At the top of the hill we departed looking for the camp which of course had no signs marking it.  When I called the camp to ask for further instructions they asked which way was the bus going when I got off.  Seriously, I had just explained I came up from the train terminal but whatever.  It took a few more minutes to find the unmarked entrance and check in.  We were found. Found by the beautiful olive grove camp that would be our home for four days.

 The only other time in Florence when we needed to be found was when we were looking for the synagogue.  The signs in Italy are sometimes very unhelpful.  They will point in one direction but really they mean a different direction.  We gave up on the synagogue and I had to find it when I returned later in the summer. Before we departed the first time I took a mental picture in my mind from above Florence so that I knew which direction to head it when looking. Found.

And then there was that moment when we were driving out of Florence headed to the north.  It was pouring down rain and I followed the directions I was given exactly, since all the GPS devices were checked out, only to be taken to a parking lot behind the train station, not helpful when you are trying to get out of the city. It was pouring down rain and now I had to turn around.  This should have been easy.  I learned to drive on a manual.  I kept pushing down as hard as I could and back trying to get it to slip into the reverse spot.  It would not go.  How was I going to turn this car?  I did briefly consider getting out and pushing but just then like magic it went in.  Unfortunately, I had no idea until more attempts how it had managed to go in.   I left the parking lot and found my way around the train station eventually and then out of the city with only one red light run and minimal honking from other drivers.

The highway would be the next questionable moment. We drove north to Ravenna following the signs until suddenly there were signs to the right on the other road.  The highway had divided some miles back.  There were four lanes, a barrier and two more lanes.  We were in the four in the middle. I spotted the signs in the two lane area and panicked. Again we were without a GPS so as soon as I saw those signs I figured we had made a wrong lane choice.  We exited the freeway and turned around.  When I got to the poll booth I asked about going to Ravenna.  He said to turn around again, of course.  There were two ways and the way I had originally chosen would be the quickest.  We turned back around and made it to Ravenna but the journey was not over.  We had to get to our hotel which was on the beach.  We drove around and around, surprising, and couldn't find it, one roundabout after another, my head circling.  This was a little beach town how hard could it be?  Again, the rain dumped in buckets perhaps obscuring our sight.   I had to call the booking company for the hotel and ask for directions.  He used google maps to get me to the right place. Found again and now we knew the route to the beach and the market.

As I was driving again to Venice or really a town outside of Venice, I kept receiving text messages from the landlord we would be renting an apartment from.  We are driving this beautiful two lane road along the coast, past large, deep rivers, enormous farms and little villages.  I am loving every minute but his texts are telling me I should have taken the freeway.  This road would take too long, in his words.  But I contentedly stopped at a roadside farm and picked up fruit.  The old lady at the stand was helpful and sweet and had obviously lovingly grown the produce right behind the stand on her farm.  Our journey was taking  longer than I expected but that is what makes it a journey and not a trip.  When we began to close in on our destination I tried to contact the owner for more clear directions to get right to the apartment.  He does not respond.  I do my best, again, with the written directions.  This town is plagued by both canals, complete with one way streets on each side and roundabouts.  I found a pizzeria that was open and asked again for help.  They were able to give us great directions and we made it in no time.  The apartment was spacious for a one-bedroom and perfectly suited to our needs.  We unloaded and headed to the Venice airport to take the car back.  We would be visiting Venice for the first time this afternoon.

In Venice we didn't get lost but maybe that was because after one time through we were strategizing ways to avoid it altogether. More on that in another blog.

Berlin was next and there was no way in a city of 3.5 million and 7 Holiday Inns there could be any hope that we would arrive at the correct one the first time but we sure tried.  The problem with Berlin was that by this time we had lost, even though Greta and I both had copies, our documents with confirmations and reservation information. In Venice we had no internet access or phone service so we couldn't retrieve the stuff before we left.  I was using my memory, you know the one that had made reservations in 7 towns over the course of 7 months, to navigate us to the correct Holiday Inn.  Berlin Mitte sounded really familiar and so that is where we headed.  As the rain trickled down on the dark streets of Berlin we drug our suitcases past a bar showing the Germany World Cup game, which we would see later, and into the lobby of said Holiday Inn.  Unfortunately, it was the wrong one.  As Greta texted Danielle and Paul, the other two people who had copies of everything, I used my German that I learned when I was between the ages of 16-19 to ask the front desk if they could possibly call the other Holiday Inns and find our reservation.  Graciously they did and put us back on the right train headed in the right direction.  Now we had walked the streets of Berlin at night, used the train and the subway and were ready for anything that came our way.  Lost and then found again.

Hamburg may be my favorite lost story.  It may take me until eternity to find out if it was an angel or the devil that led us to our hotel but we did arrive safely so I am leaning towards angel.  We had walked off the bus and this time again had directions in hand.  At the hotel in Berlin I had reliable internet and could retrieve our needed itinerary. We followed the directions looking for a particular street.  I was not finding it so I asked a German couple with a map.  The street we were looking for was not on their map and so they left and we continued walking. I saw a gigantic lit up city map across the street and it was as Max and I were deeply examining and had just found our location that a man swooped in behind us and asked if we needed help.  I explained we thought we had it but he insisted on helping and so I showed him our hotel address.  He looked at me and said it was a long ways away, a mile and a half.  He obviously didn't know who he was addressing and so I explained we were not afraid of walking.  He told us he would take us part of the way until he was sure we would be on the right track since it was in the same direction he was heading.  As we walked he told me his life story which I am saving for another blog.  At the crucial junction he left us and we were reading the numbers of the addresses and knew we were close when he suddenly appeared again.  This time I emphatically said we were fine and not lost and told the kids to walk as quickly as possible for the next block and a half until we went through the doors of the hotel. Good Samaritan? I am still not sure. When I write my blog about him you can decide.  Hamburg the next day was a breeze because we had walked, observed and taken in what we needed to in order to be found again.

Getting lost is not so scary if you have the right perspective. The key to being lost is in the observation.  What did you learn, what did you see and where did you go?  This makes getting lost really just you finding your way and therefore being found.

The lost Synagogue 

Hamburg

The olive grove camp and view

Mira and one of it's many canals

Berlin from above