Foreign Travel

By American standards traveling to California is not “foreign travel”

BUT…..California is really very different than Ohio [liberal, oceans, mountains, alternative life styles, hippie towns-did I say LIBERAL?]

BUT…….. Arcata, California is 2,582 miles [4,155 kilometers] from West Salem, OH  and a 39 hour drive – that is about the same distance between Dublin and Istanbul which crosses 10 countries [as the crow flies] and from tip to tip of two continents.
BUT…… in that distance in Europe 9 different languages are spoken.

BUT…..that distance does not even connect the entire country – the distance between Bar Harbor, Maine and Arcata, Ca is 3,495 miles, [5,625 kilometers and 54 driving hours]

BUT….. the beauty of the Pacific Ocean and the Redwood Forest is like no place else on the earth

MAYBE….. it IS another world
MAYBE….. the fact that they do not have McDonalds makes Arcata not really a part of the U.S.

We are blessed that our son, Aaron lives in such a gloriously wonderful place to visit

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We finished teaching the end of March and took glorious day trips to two countries.

PADOVA

We visited Padova, Italy by train to see another ancient city, one of the oldest universities in Europe and spend a sunny day discovering some place new. Sadly we were disappointed because the ancient was either bombed away during WWII or made filthy because of cars, buses and grafitti and it felt like an medieval city exploding with modern energy. Neither of us felt good there until we went to the botanical gardens [begun in 1545] and then, surrounded by trees that were hundreds of years old, birds singing and water flowing, we relaxed. It felt as if the soul of the ancient was being sucked out by the fast noisy crowded pace of the modern.

CROATIA

The next day we drove to Croatia to the seaside. The weather was perfect walking through castles, sea side resorts, walking along the Franz Joseph pathway, eating “fresh from the sea that morning” sea food, picknicing on the beach and enjoying the laughter with our friends.

SATURDAY DRIVE

The marvelous thing about living in Slovenia is the proximity to other countries, so because it was a brilliantly crisp day we went for a drive. We drove through the Julian Alps along the Predel pass, watched the ice climbers, sledded through canyons of snow, wandered along the Gail river valley, stopped at hill top villages where people speak Slovene and German, wandered through medieval churches, glaring at the freschi, followed the cross-country ski paths, then crossed the mountains again on a twisty switch back road in Italy to see a ski resort and then finally watched the moon rise over snow capped peaks and ended our day toasty in our own bed. Ain’t life grand!!

SALZBURG

Sarah and Larry Reed from Mt. Vernon, OH came to visit for a week and a half. The weather was perfect and we lead them to all of our favorite sites in Slovenia and Italy. They had a clear blue sky day in Venice [which is really unusual] and we all went by train to Salzburg, Austria.

Eleven years ago Diana from Germany lived with Sarah and Larry whiles an exchange student in the U.S., so we chose Salzburg because it was a halfway point in which to meet Diana and we could easily go by train from Gorizia, Italy to Udine, Italy to Villach, Austria and then across the mountains to Salzburg. We had the most perfect fall weekend for a train trip and wandering around a magical city. The mountains already had a touch of snow on the tippy-top and the trees on the mountain sides were strobe lights of yellow and orange. The train tracks dove deep into the mountain tunnels for a long part of the trip, but when we emerged blinking in the sunlight we were greeted by chalets dripping with flowers, cows sauntering on the slopes, valleys quilted with crops in different stages of harvest and rivers entertaining with a reflective light show.

Once we arrived in Salzburg we walked to the city along the river, through the walled city and to the castle. Mozart and The Sound of Music are everywhere and really too commercial for our taste, but the magic of an ancient city rich with history is fortunately not destroyed by commercialism.

Baroque Salzburg brags that they are one of the best-preserved cities north of the Alps and was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997. Salzburg means Salt Castle because of salt tolls charged to the barges on the Salzach River that flows around the city. The fortress was first built in the 11^th century and expanded in stages over the years. It now towers in rich splendor above the city keeping guard over the thousands of tourists who saunter through the narrow streets glancing at the trappings of a tourist town.

Salzburg unfortunately did not hide from the devastation of the World Wars. In 1938 German soldiers occupied the city, Jewish citizens were arrested, the synagogue was burned and POW camps for Russian soldiers were set up in the area. The allies bombed the city destroying thousands of houses and bridges and sending a bomb directly on the dome of the cathedral, but fortunately much of the ancient architecture survived thus allow us now to enjoy a sense of what the city may have been like generations ago. And also, unlike the Italians, the Austrians rebuilt the destroyed buildings in the original style preserving the integrity of the architecture. The Italians sadly replaced bombed buildings with structures that lack any aesthetic value and actually scream UGLY. That was the problem when modern was most important.

I continue to be the worst kind of tourist. I want to see places, feel the energy of those who have come before and wander in my own fantasy of the past. But I do not want to be confronted by American pop music blasting from shop speakers, I do not want to see the same image of Mozart everywhere and I certainly do not want to hear Julie Andrews around every corner singing about the lively hills. The high light of my trip was walking along the river, climbing to the castle [most took the funicular], looking over the city from the city walls in the heat of the sun and walking through the deserted streets after dark, but the best thing was getting there and back on the train.

IRELAND

Bob went home to Ohio the end of January because our house was going to be empty during the most bitter cold part of the winter, and we just couldn’t take the risk of damage due to freezing pipes. It’s difficult to be here in Slovenia without him. Not only have we spent 35 years supporting and caring for each other, but after a day of traversing another culture, another language, and many cultural differences, it is a huge comfort to come home to the snugly warmth of his arms. But the thing I have discovered most is that I am pretty boring company for myself!

We decided to have a romantic rendezvous for my May holiday, I kept telling people that I was meeting my American lover ? Now I know that no cartographer would believe that Ireland is half way between Slovenia and Ohio, but for us it seemed like the perfect mid point. And they do speak English. Don’t they?

We each flew into Shannon. Bob arrived before me and was all ready with a rental car, a warm loving smile and the comfort of US. We planned to hike a lot, and I wanted to do the entire trip by foot and bus transport, but Bob really wanted to drive on the left side of the road so we had a car [and I am really glad we did]. We had booked a B&B on line outside of Doolin for a couple nights and the rest of the week was up for grabs. Bob did great with the driving!! I just said “left” when we turned corners to be certain that he was not on automatic pilot. The only difficulty he seemed to have was judging exactly where the left side of the car was. The secondary roads are cart paths lined with 5ft. high stone walls and bushes growing on them. He could see the middle of the road just fine, but the side of the road was a mystery. I learned quickly not to hang my arm out the window.

We stayed only on the western coast along the monstrous cliffs to the sea. It is the most amazing countryside. Checkered all over the rolling hills are ancient stone walls used still to corral cows and sheep. The land rolls and rolls along until it falls off the cliffs of Moher into the crashing, smashing sea. And there are no trees!!! Yes I really mean that in some places there really are NO trees. The trees that do stand, jitter-bug all day with the wind and have a distinctive limp. The soil is thin on top of the glaciated rock, the wind is powerful, but we also read that the English cut down all the trees so that the Irish would not gather in the woods to organize rebellions. This is just one of countless despicable acts done by the English to keep the Irish in slavery, desperate poverty and as a subservient population to the crown. The lack of trees though provides brilliant vistas to the sea and we could watch the rain storms and the bursts of sun come and go on the currents.

Bed and Breakfast cottages speckle the landscape all along this area brightly painted yellow, salmon or trimmed in shocking blue. Tourism has brought new life and lots of people to this farming community, but the B&B’s are still working farms raising cows for milk and meat as well as sheep and following Irish traditions with warm hospitality and kindness. We booked a couple nights at Moher Lodge on the internet and stayed in the lovely home of Mary and Patsy Considine, but then moved to the Aille River Hostel so that we could cook our own meals. The off season rate for the B&B was 35€ per person plus breakfast, the hostel was half that, but we had a private room and we could cook. One of the fabulous things about the B&B was breakfast; fresh squeezed orange juice, fruit, home made scones and a traditional Irish breakfast for Bob. This breakfast of sausage, bacon, black pudding [blood sausage], potatoes, eggs, grilled tomato washed down with strong tea would be torture for a vegetarian, but I understand for a meat eater it is “The way to start the day”. I had a hard time sitting at the same table with him.

Doolin is advertised at the music capital of Ireland and we decided that the Irish have the same gift of exaggeration as the Slovenes, because it is hard to even describe Doolin as a town let alone a capital. But this title brings people from all over the world to this tiny hamlet, without a grocery store, a bank or an ATM, to hear traditional music. There are lots of places to stay and pubs for music, food and Guinness. After watching the sunset we

went every night to O’Connor’s to hear music by a different group nightly. I am pretty sure there were never any locals in the pub, but lots of Americans and French. None the less, to sit all night soaking a dark foamy beer engulfed in fiddle and flute tunes is a taste of heaven.

During the day we hiked. I had hoped to hike from town to town and settle in

a new place each night, but the hiking routes described in “Walking Ireland” are really walks on these narrow roads that have a 100km/hr speed limit. What are they thinking?! So we were really thankful for a car.

We drove to the Burren and hiked cow paths, across fields, climbed walls and walked for hours on bare rock polished by the glaciers. This is a karst region just like our area in Slovenia, but nothing at all like it. Karst is a geological phenomenon caused by slightly acidic rain dissolving the limestone surface creating fissures and then forming under ground aquifers. In Slovenia sink holes are very prevalent and the underground water comes to the surface out of holes in the side of the mountain or sneaking under the hill. But in the Burren the fissures are crevices in strips and down inside there are miniature flower gardens protected from the wind and able to collect the rain. Looking into the distance on the path from the Black Head Lighthouse the Burren landscape looks like giant petrified cow pies. It is tricky walking up the hill and over the slices in the ground. Humans have lived and worshiped here from pre-history and forts, tombs, and stone circles still remain. Unfortunately if you don’t know what you are looking for everything looks like rocks piled on top of rocks so everything or nothing looks like an ancient monument. We had a marvelous time wandering; chasing the sunshine and hiding from the rain showers.

We also watched a local Gaelic football game. It was played on a plateau over looking the bay and it is a combination of soccer and basket ball. They did not dribble the ball with their feet or their hands, but both. Running down the field at full speed they would bounce the ball on the grass or kick it off their foot back into their hands [did I say they were running full speed down the field being chased and guarded??]. One point can be scored if kicked through the goal post [like Am. football] or 3 points if it is kicked past the goalie into the net [like soccer]. There was very little physical contact between the players, but a lot of running without stopping. I was exhausted just watching!

With the map of the area we also went searching for castles, churches,

monasteries and grave yards. There are so many remains of old buildings that cows graze in the living rooms. The map tells of a castle, but the signs are few and far between. It made great adventure turning down rough roads trying to find a place that is pictured in a guide book, but hidden in the mist and only available for the very determined.

In a few towns thatch house can still be found. Many are charming tourist spots, but some are still lived in. It is clear that the Irish economy is doing well by the energy that is used to keep the houses in lovely shape and beautifully cared for.

Everywhere people were warm and friendly and curious. I found it very difficult to wade through the accent, and I found my self speaking more slowly and simply the way I do in Slovenia because I couldn’t understand them. I had to shake myself into remembering that English was our common language [although all the signs are in Gaelic and we heard a lot of Gaelic spoken].

My family immigrated from Donegal, Ireland before the potato famine that devastated the country. 50% of their population immigrated from abject poverty and slavery. On the next trip we will go to Donegal and search the McGarveys.