Archive | Travel RSS feed for this section

Walking My Way Through the Perils of Stone Pathways in Europe

10 Jul

Shoes are the most important item to pack for a trip through southern Europe! Forget heels. No heels! Sturdy walking shoes are the only reasonable shoe to take and nice flats for the evenings. Believe me when I tell you that walking on stone streets and paths is not for the timid or the unbalanced.

Italy, St. Peter's Stones/Bricks.

Italy, St. Peter’s Stones/Bricks.

I have learned to hate St. Peter’s Stones. These unusual shape stones make up many of the pathways in Rome. Each stone is about 4 inches wide at one end and tapers to about 2 ½ inches at the other end. Between each stone is about a half inch of grout…if you are lucky. Most of the time the grout is missing. A great place to get a heel caught and trip.   I asked some female Rome citizens how they walked in heels. Their answer, they don’t. I know why.

Stone walkways in the Jewish Quarter of Rome.

Stone walkways in the Jewish Quarter of Rome.

But it isn’t just the St. Peter’s Stones that can wear on the legs. Almost everywhere the sidewalks and streets are made of stone. And it makes sense. These are old cities. In the Jewish Quarter of Rome there were square stones that paved the walkways and streets.   I say this together because in the tight areas of the old city people and cars share the streets and walkways.

I cannot imagine what they are like when they are wet. We were fortunate and never encountered rain on our trip, but I can imagine that these stones cause much misery when they are damp or wet.   The only place I can compare it to is Jerusalem. Also a city paved with stone, Jerusalem is a place where I have experienced rain and snow and it was not pretty! After two days of walking in Rome, even with sneakers and flats, my legs were aching.

In our not quite two days in Rome, we walked 11.8 miles! And over our two-week trip to Europe I walked 62 miles, averaging 4.4 miles a day, including the two at sea days. I know for a fact as I wore my Jawbone Up the entire time! So believe me when I say I became intimate with the stone walkways of some of the cities along the Mediterranean. And I feel fortunate that we all survived intact!

To be honest, the stone walkways were so beautiful, I started taking photos of them. Lovely to look at in every city and island we visited… but terrible for the legs and feet.

Pompeii stone streets... Pretty good actually.

Pompeii stone streets… Pretty good actually.

I loved the incredible stone streets of Pompeii. That they lasted this long through fire and ash and 2000 years shows their durability. And actually the stone walkways in Pompeii were easy to walk on. I was amazed at how the craftsmen took irregular shaped stones and fit them so precisely together. They were just stunning.

Sicilian Stone walkways.

Sicilian Stone walkways.


Sardinian stone.

Sardinian stone.

On the islands of Sicily and Sardinia we encountered larger, more even stones. Rectangle and squares probably made it for easier for masons to install the stonework. They were also a bit easier to walk on in the more modern parts of town.   But still gave no relief to tired calf muscles!

Corsica at the citadel. These stones were impossible! And yes, it was the only place to walk.

Corsica at the citadel. These stones were impossible! And yes, it was the only place to walk.

After Corsica, I knew the stones were starting to take their toll on people. In Calvi, Corsica, the citadel is located high above the city. You have to walk up a multitude of stone staircases before reaching the path that takes you into the citadel. Should I call it a path, or the stone walkway from Hell? These uneven and rounded stones pushed into the ground must be carefully and diligently watched as you walk. They look like giant river pebbles. When you walk on them there can be no looking up until you take a break. Just watch your feet. I thought going uphill was bad. But going downhill was much worse.

The day after the trip to Calvi, I noticed several people on our cruise ship now in wheelchairs with their ankles wrapped. An older woman, who had been on our flight to Europe, and was on our cruise, fell and was sporting a black eye. She spent two days recouping from that incident. Calvi’s citadel is not for the weak-kneed or anyone who needs help walking!

Monaco, beautiful patterned pebbles to walk on.

Monaco, beautiful patterned pebbles to walk on.

Monaco had lovely walkways, easy to meander through. But near the prince’s palace, where we watched the changing of the guard, there was a beautiful inlayed pebbled area, so beautiful to see, but perhaps difficult for the pedestrians in heels. I just took pictures, and tried to stay off of it. Okay, honestly, I had to walk on it at least once to test it out. It was okay, just a little rough on the soles of my feet.

St. Tropez, more stone for people and cars.

St. Tropez, more stone for people and cars.

St. Tropez’ older areas had more St. Peter’s Stone’s as well as larger rectangular steps. And I do not like St. Peter’s Stone! To be honest this was my least favorite stop on our journey. However it had the best story about the paved roads. The walkways in the ancient area are all made of stone, slippery when wet. Our guide told us that when people tried to invade the city, the citizens would pour olive oil into the street, which made the hilly stone paths impossible to navigate. I wish I could have seen the invaders’ faces as the olive oil came oozing down the roads. The slipping and sliding was not funny to them, I am sure. What an ingenious idea!

The beautifully stone paved Rambla. Easy to walk on.

The beautifully stone paved Rambla. Easy to walk on.

We ended our trip in Barcelona. The new parts of town have easy to walk on streets. And we loved walking on the Rambla! The stonework was so pretty with waves of color. And the stones were even and comfortable for walking. But the old, gothic city also had its stone and uneven pathways. However, I understand that these streets and paths are over 1,000 years old. So I am not complaining, I am just saying BE Careful.

Notice the difficult walking through the trails at Montserrat.

Notice the difficult walking through the trails at Montserrat.

Our final stop was Montserrat, a beautiful mountain and Monastery about an hour from Barcelona. This area is so breathtaking with its views and buildings. It has three main walking paths. We took one.   You can see that they are trying to repair the paths in some areas, in others it was quite the challenge.   But so worth the effort!

My legs are still recovering from the hard walking. To be honest, I went for a leg reflexology on the cruise ship. It was wonderful after all those stone steps. I gifted myself an extra long 75-minute leg and foot massage. I figured that my legs had done me well, and they deserved pampering. When I got home, I went for a pedicure with massage at Old Town. It helped as well. Sixty-two miles of walking on stone paths was perilous, but worth every step!

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

How I Learned That I Really Am 60 Years Old

9 Jul

I admit it; I am 60. It happened suddenly. One day I was 25 and getting married. And moments later I was 60, married for 35 years and had two adult children. How did it happen? I am not sure. But I will tell you that I do not feel 60. In my mind I am much younger. How old, I am not sure; but definitely NOT 60.

I walk between 2 – 5 miles daily. I exercise. I work. I volunteer. I do word puzzles. I write. I read. I crochet. I visit with friends. I shop. I keep moving. I am mildly obsessive and overly concerned at times. Most people I meet do not think I am 60, except perhaps for the grey hair. I do not get my haired dyed. And many times I am in a room with women my age and older, and I am the only one with grey hair. So I guess that might indicate my advancing age.

But recently, I realized that in fact I was 60. I realize that being 60 has made a few changes in my life and how others view me. Perhaps, it is just others who do not really know me.

It happened in Rome. My husband and I arrived on a Wednesday, arriving at our hotel about 11 am. Once we got into a room we decided to go exploring. Close to the hotel was the Castle of Saint Angelo, a lovely spot to investigate. We spent hours there going room to room, inside and out, lost in the corridors that date back centuries.

IMG_5723

The Castle of Saint Angelo.

We finally found our way out and walked back to our hotel for a nap before a meeting and dinner. Imagine our surprise when our host arrived 45 minutes early. We were tired, but we got it together. He took us to tour the Basilica of San Paola and its cloister. Then to the Bambino Gesu Hospital, Children’s Hospital of Rome, for a short tour and where my husband presented a talk to the allergy section. From there it was out to dinner with 13 others for a five-course Roman meal….delicious. And then a two-mile walk to what we were told was the best gelato in all of Rome, the Gelateria Frigidarium. It was delicious. But we did not get back to our hotel till midnight.

The Great Synagogue in Rome, Italy

The Great Synagogue in Rome, Italy

Now after traveling for 20 hours, touring and a giant meal and gelato, I was tired. But with jet lag, I still did not sleep that well. And we had to be at the Jewish Quarter by ten in the morning for a three-hour tour organized by Jewish Roma. We did it. It was wonderful. We ate lunch in the Jewish Quarter then grabbed a taxi to get to the Vatican where we had another, 2:30 pm tour scheduled.

A portion of the ceiling in the extremely long reception hall, also known as the map room because of the frescos of different areas of Italy.

A portion of the ceiling in the extremely long reception hall, also known as the map room because of the frescos of different areas of Italy.

Also planned by Jewish Roma, we had a semi-private tour with one other couple. I would say they were in their late 30s and the tour guide, perhaps in her late 40s. This tour would take us through the Vatican Museum, not air-conditioned, to the Sistine Chapel. The museum winds it ways through room after room of art works. Long halls, galleries, so much to see. So much walking!! And finally, we are all herded into the Sistine Chapel where everyone stands and looks up ward at the magnificent art drawn by Michaelangelo. At least it had some air conditioning.

It was in this room that I realized I am 60,and other people noticed. We had moved to the back of the chapel to look around there before going out. Our lovely tour guide Sylvia, suddenly turned to my husband and I and said, “There are some seats that just came available. Why don’t you go sit there!”

Okay, we can. We walked over and my husband and I sat down. I looked over at him. He looked really tired. I must look tired as well, I thought. Then I looked up. The three younger adults were looking down at us. And I had a epiphany moment, I knew what they were thinking. They were thinking that we were worn out. They were worried about us. Would these seniors make it through the tour? Are they ok? Wow! I now know what my parents thought when I sat them down somewhere to rest. And you what? I needed that rest. It felt wonderful!

After a few minutes, perhaps ten, we said we were ready to go on. Really, we reassured the guide and the couple. And on we went. When the tour ended my husband and I went into St. Peter’s Basilica for a while. But after about 20 mintues, I was done. It was time to go back to the hotel. And I was not going to walk!!! Even though my husband assured me it was just about a mile. NO! I won.

We walked to the edge of St. Peter’s Square and got a cab.

Back to the hotel. It was about 5:30 pm. I took a quick shower and went to take a nap. My husband said he tried to wake me at 7 pm, for dinner. I did not move. I also did not move at 7:15 when he tried again. Finally at 7:30 pm, I did wake up and we went out for dinner.

We went just a block from the hotel to a lovely restaurant; then on to a gelato shop for dessert.

It was a wonderful day. We walked another six miles. We saw so much and learned so much about Rome. But we also learned that we are 60 years old!

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Always Searching For a Touch of Jewish History

7 Jul

Whenever I travel, I try to incorporate a touch of Jewish history into all my trips. It started when I had little children, and an older friend recommended that I include something of our heritage whenever we traveled. It seemed like a good idea, so I started this tradition.

Our first attempt to fulfill this commitment was seeing a production of a new opera about the Golem in the Aspen Opera House. It was a wild opera. Many people walked out. But my children LOVED it. A great success.

Great Synagogue in Buenos Aires.

Great Synagogue in Buenos Aires.

Since then we have visited Jewish sites throughout the world: Jewish museums thorugh out the United States,as well as the Jewish Museum in Vienna and my husband visited the Jewish Museum in Athens. We have seen the synagogue on St. Thomas, the Great Synagogue in Buenes Aires, the holocaust memorial and several synagogues in Montivideo, Uraguay. We have visited Jewish sites in Canada.

Holocaust memorial in Montevideo, Uruguay.

Holocaust memorial in Montevideo, Uruguay.

So my trip to Europe this summer was no different. We had to incorporate a bit of Judaism into our trip, especially with all the rise of anti-Semitism in Europe. I needed to do this!

While in Rome, we used the tour company, Jewish Roma, to book tours of the Jewish Quarter and the Vatican (to get a slightly Jewish slant on this very Catholic compound. ) The tour of the Jewish Quarter, or what used to b the Ghetto, was wonderful. Walking down the streets and seeing where so many Jews had been forced to live during the Middle Ages, in fact up until the 19th century, touched me.

I loved seeing the Great Synagogue and the museum with all its religious objects. I listened to the tales of the Shoah and the life of Jews in Rome for centuries. I was shocked to see the plaque on a church that once stood just outside the gate of the ghetto that was written in Hebrew but encouraged Jews to convert. I had heard of this practice, but to actually see it, was painful. I am glad they kept it there.

The Great Synagogue in Rome, Italy

The Great Synagogue in Rome, Italy

The small community of 12,500 Jewish people in Rome support synagogues, a day school and a hospital. They are well aware of their standing in the community.  Near the synagogue is a square where over 1,000 Jews were rounded up by the Nazi’s.  This October date is memorialized.  Of the 1,000 taken, only 18 returned.

I learned that in Rome the Jews are neither Sephardic nor Ashkenazi in their religious practice. Their service comes from a time before the divide. It is a Roman service. How interesting!?  We also ate fried artichokes, a Jewish Roman delicacy.  I enjoyed walking through the Jewish Quarter, seeing the Jewish Day School, eating lunch in a kosher bristol.

Our tour guide, Sara, told us how her family was actually from Sicily but was forced to move to Rome centuries ago. So I was excited when we were in Sicily to have to tour guide point out the original synagogue, now a church of course, and the road where the Jews once lived. There is a plaque on the wall of the street indicating that it was once the home to the Jewish population of Sicily.

What was once the synagogue in Sicily, now a church.

What was once the synagogue in Sicily, now a church.

Although there were small Jewish communities in some of the other places we visited, like Corsica, it was not until Barcelona that we had our next Jewish encounter. Near the harbor is a hill that is still called Montjuic, Mountain of the Jews. It was where the Jewish cemetery once was located. But as our tour guide told us, when the Jews were expelled the cemetery was destroyed. In fact the Jews of Barcelona were cast out in the 1390s, a hundred years before they were expelled from the rest of Spain. Now this is part of the site of the Barcelona Olympics from the 1990s. So although there are no Jews there anymore, the name remains.

We walked in the Gothic area of the city where the Jewish population once lived and where the old synagogue still remains, although we did not see it.

Our other touch of Judaism was going to a Flamenco performance. I had read that many people believe the Flamenco dance was an outgrowth of the closeness of the Roma community with the Sephardic Jewish community. Our tour guide, Bettina, commented on this connection as well. She told us about how the Jews were expelled and forced to leave.  When our tour was over, I commented privately to her about my family’s distant roots in Spain.  And how our family, then known as Faya was forced to leave.  I guess, that   even though the Jews left Spain so many centuries ago, little pieces remain behind. And that brings me some peace.

I do wish I had booked a private Jewish tour of Barcelona before we went instead of relying on public tours and asking my questions. But I am glad that I have continued in my search to find a bit of Jewish heritage with every trip I take.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

My Architectural Love Affair With Hundertwasser and Gaudi

6 Jul

In the summer of 1999, my husband and I took our children on a tour of Austria and Hungary, primarily to see these countries and to view the total eclipse of the sun that would be visible that summer. We were heading to Hervis, Hungary, for the best viewing.

Before the trip up to the mountains, we stayed for several days in Vienna. It was an informative trip as we went to the Jewish Museum, Judenplatz, other museums and visited the home of the white stallions. (See below for links to another blog about this trip.)

But along the way I was introduced to the work of Friedensreich Hundertwasser, the Austrian architect who was born in 1928, the same year as my father, and who had survived the Shoah with his Jewish mother by passing as Catholic, the religion of his father. In Vienna we saw the most unusual apartment building designed by him, The Hundretwasserhaus. This crazy looking building was multicolored, unusually shaped and had trees growing everywhere.

IMG_6071

But the most wonderful part of our visit that year, was our accommodations at what my then 8-year-old son called the ‘Wacky Hotel.’ But whom others call Hundretwasser’s Rogner Bad Blumau, a hotel that includes thermal baths and pools. The hotel has no rhyme or reason that an adult can see. But it has sparks of imagination that enchant a child. I was enthralled.   I became a Hundertwasser lover. Even though I have no background in architecture.

Our stay there was delightful, from the curving paths to the unusual windows to the wonderful pools and colorful design. I bought books about Hundretwasser. I was intrigued by his desire to help nature and bring all things natural to his architecture. Yes, I think he went a little far at times, but I so enjoyed his work.

I was also intrigued by his personal history and his survival. Born Friedrick Stowasser, he changed his name after the war to focus on his desire for peace and harmony with nature. I think I was also aware of another connection, my maternal grandfather was also from a part of Austria. He had moved to the USA in the 1920s, but like Hundretwasser, my grandfather lost almost 100 members of his family during the Shoah. Hundretwasser’s mother lost many of her family members as well. Our connection was that both of our families had been decimated by the Shoah.

I would love to see all the buildings Hundretwasser designed, but I realize this would be impossible. However, there is a winery in California, The Quixote Winery that I have to see! I love how he uses the natural contours of the ground and a need to protect the environment in his designs. I would love to see this winery in person.

My profound interest in Hundertwasser’s works lead to my interest in another European architect, Antoni Gaudi, from Spain.   Although he died three years before Hundretwasser was born, I see his influence in the work of my Austrian artist. For Gaudi, his Catholic religion was an important part of his designs. Not so for Hundretwasser, even though he was baptized to survive. But the form of their buildings and their interest in natural design fit so well together.

The towers on their buildings, the use of stone and color, the curves and contours reflect each other. Although Gaudi used religion to influence his art, and Hundretwasser used nature.

Church of Sagrada Familia

So, of course, on our recent trip to Europe and Barcelona, I had to go to see some of Guadi’s designs. The amazing church, the Sagrada Familia, which has been in progress for over 120 years! Wow! What a creation! My husband envisioned termite hills reflected in the towers. Our tour guide was not too happy with that comparison. But it is true. The towers do look like termite hills to us!

Casa Batllo Casa Batllo

We toured the Casa Batllo. I loved it! The mushroom fireplace, the lovely curved doors and windows, the delightful stone and tile-encrusted façade all brought me some joy! The private garden in the back on part of the roof was enchanting.

Unfortunately we could not get tickets to Park Guell, so I guess I will have to go back to Barcelona one day to view this park and see how it compares to the Rogner Bad Blumau.

I find it so unusual that one man, born in the mid 1850s and dying in 1926, who based his architecture on his religious beliefs; and another man born in 1928, who died in 2000, and had to escape from religious persecution, both designed buildings with such unique and imaginative styles.

Although some believe the word gaudy comes from Antoine Gaudi’s name, it does not. My search of several dictionaries revealed that the word, gaudy, was first used in the 1500s to mean garish or flashy. Yes, it is somewhat like Gaudi’s buildings, but in this case his name was not the reason for the word, just a serendipitous event.

And although some might call Gaudi’s works gaudy, to me they are inspiration! To me, to be honest, neither the work of Gaudi nor the work of Hundretwasser should ever be considered gaudy, rather they should be seen as works of imagination! Just as the song about Figment in the Disney ride “Imagination” used to say, “One little spark of inspiration is at the heart of all creation!”

I believe their designs will be joy to many others for generations because they hold the spark of imagination. And so I will continue my architectural love affair with their buildings.

Update with a newest Gaudi visit: https://zicharonot.com/2018/10/08/i-do-love-gaudi-my-second-barcelona-gaudi-adventure/

https://zicharonot.wordpress.com/2015/04/19/behind-the-beauty-and-facades-of-vienna/

tour the rogner bad blumau spa, designed by friedensreich hundertwasser

My second Gaudí adventure: https://zicharonot.com/2018/10/08/i-do-love-gaudi-my-second-barcelona-gaudi-adventure/

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Behind the Beauty and Facades of Vienna

19 Apr

My husband and I took our children to Vienna in 1999. We went to Austria and Hungary primarily to see the total eclipse of the sun. But our tour started in Vienna. I was not sure I wanted to go there. My grandfather was from Galecia, when it was part of Austria. His entire family was murdered in the Shoah. So should I go to a place that hated my family, my people and my traditions so much?

But on the other hand, my grandfather also told me that he bought his property and built his bungalow colony in the Catskills because the hills reminded him of his home. I wanted to see that part of Austria. And I did, when we left Vienna to go into the Vienna Woods, into the rolling hills above the city, I saw what he meant.

It did remind me of the Catskills. And I understood that even though he would never, ever leave the USA. That he would never go back to Galecia, he still had that piece of home in his heart when he was in the Catskills.

In Vienna we also saw the Hundertwasser haus designed by Friedensreich Hundertwasser. Born, Friedrich Stowasser, the son of a Jewish mother, as a child, he and his mother posed as Catholics during the war. His mother lost almost 70 members of her family. When we went up into the mountains, we stayed at the Bad Blumau Spa, which he designed. My son called this place the wacky hotel. It was an amazing spot. It is a place of beauty and peace designed by a Jewish man who was able to survive and provide beauty to the world.

While in Vienna, I made sure that my children went to the Jewish Museum and to the Judenplatz, the area of Vienna where most of the Jews had lived. At the time there was no memorial to the Shoah or an additional museum to memorialize what happened there. When we went, the central grounds in the Judenplatz was in the midst of construction. There were signs about what would be built there. And there was a plaque on one of the buildings describing, in German, what had happened during the war, after the Anschluss with Germany in March 1938.

We stayed for three nights in Vienna. Because we were traveling as a family of four within a tour group, the hotel reservations clerk upgraded our hotel rooms from two small rooms next to each other to an actual apartment suite that was on two floors. It was a lovely suite. We had a view of the city. Our children loved this elegant accommodation. But the entire first day, I felt unsettled.

On Saturday morning, as we were eating breakfast in the hotel dining room, I heard chanting and prayers. I followed the sounds and found several women sitting in a hallway outside a room where a traditional Shabbat service was being held. I was amazed. There was still a Jewish presence in Vienna? People were celebrating Shabbat here? We were not the only Jews in the city? I felt a bit comforted that the hotel we were staying in allowed Jewish services and provided a spot for those who wanted to celebrate the Shabbat and keep kosher. A bit of my angst left me.

We did all the tourist stops in Vienna. We went to the Schonbrunn Castle; The Belvedere; and the Spanish Riding School, home of the Lipizzaner horses. I had to see the Spanish Riding School, because I remember seeing the Disney movie, “The Miracle of the White Stallions,” as a child and have always been intrigued by these horses. At the Schonbrunn Palace we learned about Sisi, Empress Elizabeth of Austria and her very long hair!

I bought souvenirs, some lace, white ceramics, gifts for the children, and of course post cards of art work from the museums, including the beautiful Klimt paintings. They were magnificent.

The Klimt paintings, especially the one of the woman painted and then covered in gold, was amazing.   But there was much going on in the background of that painting that we did not know. There was no mention that the woman in gold was stolen from a Jewish home during the Shoah, along with other artwork.

My views of Vienna changed again when I went to see the movie, “The Woman in Gold” and found out the true story of this painting and others like it. I had a totally different reaction than when I saw the “Miracle of the White Stallions” so many years ago.

Although “The Woman in Gold” has not received wonderful reviews, I found it fascinating.   Perhaps with my somewhat Austrian roots and my previous time spent in Austria and Vienna, I related on to the film a different level. Perhaps because my family was destroyed after the Anschluss, so I felt the story on that level as well.

Of course my family was not multi-millionaires. But they did own a farm and property that was all stolen. And they did suffer through the murders and destruction.

I wish the movie shown that Maria Altman had children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. The Maria in the movie seems to be alone. And that was not the case. I wish the movie shown her triumphant in her life as well as in her fight against Austria to win the return of what belonged to her family.

For me the continuation of her family, as well as the return of the stolen property would have made the story even stronger. Not only did she get the beautiful Klimt, but she also made a lovely life.

I do not know if I will ever go back to Vienna. But I know that with the rise of anti-Semitism in Europe and around the world, we cannot stand back and say nothing.   So I am glad that movies such as “The Woman in Gold” have been made and are shown throughout the world.

Vienna in 1999 was a different Vienna than in 1938, but now I know that they were still not facing the truth of what had happened.   Vienna is a beautiful city. This is a fact. The pastry shops, the museums, the buildings, the parts are all stunning. But behind the facades, for me, will always be the homes, art, jewelry and lives taken.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/09/arts/design/09altmann.html?_r=0

http://www.designboom.com/architecture/rogner-bad-blumau-spa-hotel-friedensreich-hundertwasser-austria-01-19-2015/

http://jewishonlinemuseum.org/friedensreich-hundertwasser

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miracle_of_the_White_Stallions

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

An Odd Affinity To Jelllyfish Attacks

23 Mar
I think my son especially does not like jellyfish with tentacles.

I think my son especially does not like jellyfish with tentacles.

When the tentacle wrapped around my son’s leg in Long Island Sound (Connecticut side), people started running. I was not sure what was going on at first. My son, then about three years old, was standing in about 6 inches of water. His hand firmly grasped by a 10-year-old with two 8-year-old children next to them. We were all together, and I was watching closely.

But I did not see what was just under the water. My son started screaming. I ran over and grabbed him, as a man came running towards me. It was scary. What did this man want? He was yelling something at me, but it took a minute to understand that a giant, dead jellyfish has drifted over to the beach and one of its tentacles had wrapped around my son’s thigh.

As the man ran over to me, he was yelling, “We need to get your son to first aid NOW!” I looked down, and there just under the edge of my son’s swimsuit was a giant welt that encircled his thigh. Bright red and raised, the welt was growing before my eys.

By this time my son was holding his breathe. I could see his lips turning blue. He was so scared and in pain. I had him enveloped in my arms, as the man rushed me towards the lifeguard station. But we did not move far, the lifeguard was on his way running to me, with a squirt bottle in hand. He had heard all the commotion and knew something had occurred.

He sprayed my son’s leg with vinegar. The smell was sickly sweet. But I could see my son relax a bit, as the cool liquid eased the pain and started working on the jellyfish venom.

Needless to say, it was the end of our relaxing day at the beach. Even 21 years later, I can close my eyes and relive this moment and the entire hour or so that my son sobbed till he fell asleep from exhaustion. And I do not mean whimpers. I mean full-throated screams of agony. My friend, my Mom, the three girls and I all wanted his pain to end.

My favorite jellyfish photo ever.

My favorite jellyfish photo ever.

My son developed a healthy fear of jellyfish. He loved the water and he loved swimming. But no longer ever wanted to go into ocean. When we went to Florida to see his grandparents, we would walk along the beach the night before, checking for jellyfish. When he saw a jellyfish lying on the beach he would run in the other direction or hop over them. Usually the beach would be closed if we saw jellyfish. Which was just fine. Most of the time, he just wanted to swim in the pool. And I agreed. I did not want to go through that fear again.

Our family love to go to aquariums when we travel. He loved going as well, but he would quickly run past the jellyfish tanks. He wanted nothing to do them. He did not even want to see them.

I would like to say that this was his last encounter with a jellyfish.

Move forward 12 years. We are again in Florida visiting grandparents. One evening we had dinner with my nephew, who was studying marine biology. He told us all about the different jellyfish and Portuguese Man o Wars, which were common in Florida. And how jellyfish and Man o Wars were not the same things. A Portuguese Man o War was not a jellyfish! Our nephew made that clear. My son was unhappy with the dinner conversation. I think the conversation was actually a foreshadow of what would come the next day.

We were visiting friends on the coast. My son, my college-aged daughter and her then boyfriend went down t the beach to enjoy the great day. The adults stayed upstairs on the balcony and enjoyed visiting. We were getting cleaned up and ready to leave when the younger adults arrived back upstairs. My daughter announced loudly as they entered the apartment that my son ‘was stung by a jellyfish!” He is in pain.”

“Very funny, “ I responded. Thinking that she was joking because of our dinner conversation last night.

“No,” her boyfriend added. “He really got stung. Just as we were getting out of the water”

I looked at my son. Oh no! They really were not joking. I could see that he was in PAIN.

Mother mode kicked in. He really was stung by a jellyfish AGAIN! Well actually not a jellyfish, it was a Portuguese Man o War, even worse!!!

Someone went on line to see what we should do. Did getting stung a second time add to the impact and chances of a systemic reaction? Should I take him to an emergency room? I called my husband, who had remained home during our trip to see grandparents. Probably did not need to take him to the hospital, but needed to watch him for a bit. (My husband is a pediatric allergist, so it did make sense to call him.)

After the Man o War stung him, we used wine vinegar to ease the pain.

After the Man o War stung him, we used wine vinegar to ease the pain.

Vinegar would help. But the only vinegar my friends had was wine vinegar. We used it. We doused my son’s foot in wine vinegar. And then the jokes began. He did smell like a salad. And their dog did want to lick his leg. We got him calmed down as the pain ebbed. And we overstayed our visit by an hour or so, as we waited to make sure there was no reaction.

All was well. My son recovered.

But his odd affinity to jellyfish attacks have created an environment for jellyfish jokes which have become a permanent part of my son’s family life. I must admit, I am among the worst.   My husband and I travel often. And I still love aquariums. I have been to the aquariums in Boston, Baltimore, Atlanta, and more. And each time I go, I take photos of the jellyfish tanks then I email these photos my son.

Sometimes I even buy him jellyfish gifts.

He always smiles and says something like, “Really. This is what you got me.”

But finally I bought him a jellyfish gift that he loves.

His cat’s favorite cat toy had disappeared. He was bemoaning this to me one day, and told him I was going to the pet store to get food for my cat. So I would look for something.

The wonderful jellyfish cat toy I purchased for my son.

The wonderful jellyfish cat toy I purchased for my son.

I found the best toy ever. Developed by National Geographic, part of the price of this perfect toy goes to support animals. It is a jellyfish filled with catnip on a stick. I had to buy it.

When my son came over to pick it up, he laughed. “Really a jellyfish toy?”

“Yes,” I said. You can finally get your revenge. Whenever your cat attacks the jellyfish toy, you can envision those jellyfish that attacked you getting attacked by your cat.”

And he smiled his best smile and agreed it was a wonderful idea.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

My Refrigerator Holds Memories in its Magnets

12 Mar

My refrigerator drives my husband crazy. Not the appliance itself, but rather the hundreds of magnets that have been placed on it over the years. Many of my friends have switched to stainless steel refrigerators, but I cannot do that . What would I do with my magnets?

When I see my magnets, I have memories. Many of these magnets I purchased on trips or at events. Some were gifts from a friend. But most hold special memories for me.

Thanks to a chance trip to an IKEA store and a wonderful magnetic board on which I moved many of my magnets, my magnet collection has areas of themes. Instead of a mishmash of magnets all over, I was able to make montages and delineate sections.   Well I think I have.

IMG_4959

There are the three magnets from Kauneonga Lake, NY, that highlight the Woodstock concerts. The oldest I bought at Vassmer’s when they had a little Woodstock museum set up in one of the storefronts.   One is from 1994 and the 25th anniversary of Woodstock. And the final one came from the BethEl Woods Museum, which celebrated the 40th anniversary in 2009.

I close my eyes and I am in Kauneonga Lake reliving that summer. Close to these magnets I keep a photo from the Catskills that includes my grandmothers and great aunt. There are other magnets near by, but it is the Catskills memory that stands out in this montage.

On the front of my refrigerator are all sorts of magnets.   Some from musicals I attended, others from places I visited. Some show sayings that I think are important.   My magnet collection seems very organized now. And it is.   Most of the magnets you see there are square or rectangle in shape creating organized lines upon lines of magnets.

IMG_4960

When I see a magnet from a favorite show, the music runs through my mind. I see the action and dance and the people who attended the show with me. Great memories.  My magnets hold up important notes and pictures written or drawn by my children or a special child friend.  These need a place to stay, and the refrigerator is that place.

In another corner of the freezer door, I keep my lucky magnets. Hamsas of different shapes and other magnets that I found on trips to Israel and Greece adorn this space.

IMG_4963

Interspersed throughout the magnets and all over the refrigerator are the photos of important people and children: my children, my nieces and nephews, my grandparents, cousins. The magnets hold up the photos, and in some cases the pictures are within magnet frames. All of these pictures hold a special place in my heart.

IMG_4961

The magnetic board I purchased at IKEA contains over 100 magnets from some of my favorite places: Disneyworld, Prince Edward Island and the Anne of Green Gables home, Bahamas, New York City, Aspen, Lego Land, New Orleans, Seattle. Looking at this board gives me joy because I remember so many wonderful places I traveled to with my husband and my family! I can remember the excitement in visiting each new place.

My husband did not appreciate my efforts of magnet organization. He thinks the refrigerator is still overwhelmed by magnets. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps I need to go back to IKEA and buy another magnetic board. The magnets will not disappear. The memories stored in my magnets are too important to me.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Aging, Wisely and Joyfully

21 Feb

I spoke to my daughter a few days before her 29th birthday (yesterday). She lives in Israel and I live in the Kansas, so we spoke through a video chat. (Always makes me think of 2001: A Space Odyssey, when the astronaut calls his family from space.) My daughter was bemoaning her advancing age.

“I am going to be old!” She cried. “I am almost 30!”

“That is not old!” I insisted. “Look at me, I am 60. I am not complaining about being old.”

“Well once you are old, you are old!” She said. “I am not old yet, just getting there.”

We both laughed. But the truth is, I do not feel old. I feel pretty wonderful.

I recently participated in a two-day workshop on “Wise Aging” presented by instructors from the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. Although it was presented in Kansas City, there were participants from through the Midwest. We all learned how to be facilitators in this new program to help people transition in to the next stage of life.

I was surprised when I was called by our rabbi’s wife and asked to participate on behalf of our congregation. But she told me that she thought of me immediately when she realized she could not attend, as I was aging so wonderfully. That was two weeks before my 60th birthday, and I will admit to a bit of concern. But okay, I would do it.

The two-day workshop was intense and exhausting. Fourteen hours of learning and interacting with the other trainees as we attempted to learn about the Wise Aging program, bring this program to life and learn to teach it to others.

I loved the idea of helping people see themselves as elders as opposed to elderly. As we age, we have so much to give to others. We can mentor and teach from our experiences.

There was one part of the program I found distressing. There was much discussion about teaching people how to let go of bitterness and learn to forgive those in their past who might have hurt them. It seems many people, as they age, hold on to old hurts and real or imagined insults.

I say, “let it go.” As does this program. Let go of these feelings because bitterness only makes you feel worse. I am a firm believer of the rule of Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur to say I am sorry to any one I might have hurt and to forgive anyone who has hurt me. It is so much easier than carrying all that baggage around. And it makes life so much more joyful.

This workshop opened my eyes to how others see themselves as they age.   Whereas my husband and I are really enjoying our lives as empty nesters, others seem to have a difficult time.

So I say. Go to a lecture. We try to go to a program at least once a week.   There are many free lectures and programs available. Go to a concert. Take a weekend trip if you can. Get a kitten. Having a pet does wonders for people as they age. Travel with friends.

Yes the body starts to give out a little. But exercise is wonderful for keeping your body healthy. You do not have to run marathons like my meshugganah husband. But you can walk. I walk two to three miles almost every day.

Soup

Do something different. Yesterday, in honor of my daughter’s birthday, a friend of mine and I went to the new IKEA store in Kansas. I had not been there yet. We walked all around the showroom and the marketplace and the warehouse. I got lots of walking in and bought a few accessories. Then we went out for a bowl of chicken noodle soup and shared a black and white cookie at a deli. Happiness can be a bowl of soup and a cookie!

Find things that make you happy. And be happy. You have so many experiences to share and so much good to do. Volunteer for an organization you love. Meet new people. Keep being curious. My curiosity has led me to investigate further into my family history and I have found cousins I did not know I had. I love a mystery and solving it. Now I am focus on the mysteries of my family.

There is so much to do and so much more time to do it, now that I no longer have children at home.

So I plan to continue to age wisely and joyfully. I hope my example will help my daughter accept her almost 30 years and age joyfully as well.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

The Turning 60 Blues! Or the Best and Brightest Blue Ever!

25 Jan

January 23 was not a date I was looking forward to reaching. I usually love to celebrate, and I love my birthday. But this year was different. This year I was turning 60. Somehow that age bothered me. I do not feel sixty. I do not act 60. To me being 60 meant I was not just an adult, I was old…a sage…a mentor, not a doer.

And I have been a doer my entire life. Was this going to change me?

I was having the turning 60 blues!

My angst really began to hit me in November. On the 23 of November I was getting ready to fly from India to Israel to visit my daughter. And it hit me that in two months I would be 60. What was I doing flying around the world by myself. I was almost old!! I had just spent 10 days in India with my husband. And now I was planning to spend another 8 days in Israel. Was I crazy?

No I was not. But I was really two months away from this terrible date.

When I got home to Kansas in early December, the dread continued. I started talking about my age at meetings. I was seeing things differently. At many meetings I was among the oldest women in the room, instead of one of the younger ones.

At one meeting of an executive committee I am on, I even said something about turning 60 and having a difficult time with it. The ladies were very nice. “You don’t look a day over 45!” One said politely. Another, who knows a bit better, said, “and you act like you are 12!” (Is that good? I wasn’t quite sure.) “A little older than 12!” I responded.

The president said, “Don’t worry, you are good at any age. “ And she is older than I am. So perhaps this would not be so bad.

A truly long-time good friend, one of best friends, asked if I was planning a party. Not really. I had thought about. But decided “No.” In January the weather is so iffy. No one would come. I was not in the mood. But she continued to bug me. She can be quite forceful at times.

When I told her I could not find a good place. She found a place. It was less than three weeks before my birthday. I went to the bakery/luncheonette and realized that it was a great place for a party.

But then I remember Miss Manners said that people should not throw a party for themselves. It was egotistical and unsightly, or some such words. And as for saying ‘no gifts,’ she considered that was rude as well.

Too bad! I decided to throw a party for myself, and say no gifts. But directed people who really wanted to do something to make a donation to a scholarship fund I had started in memory of my parents.

I started sending out email invitations, when my email was hacked. Which created an avalanche of aggravation. All my contacts were lost for two days till I learned how to recover. By then I had lost track of whom I had invited. So I had to send out groups of invites and individuals till I got everyone covered.

I sent out 50 invitations. The room only held 40. But 12 people lived out of town. So I was safe. To my delight two ‘out of towners’ were able to attend.  In all 36 people said they would come.  The only No’s came from people who would be out of town for the weekend.

The hearts I made for my friends.

The hearts I made for my friends.

I set myself some goals. I decided to make a crochet heart for every woman who came to my birthday tea. Each one of the people I invited had a place in my heart.   I decided we would all wear hats and just visit. No big plans. But I would introduce everyone from my different parts of life with a story.

And I had a moment of inspiration! I love the color blue. I love teal and turquoise, royal blue, navy blue. Any shade of blue makes me happy. So why was I thinking that turning 60 was giving me the blues in a bad way? Turning 60 should give me the blues in a good way.   Here I am! 60!

So I bought blue napkins and ribbons and decorations: None of this stupid over the hill stuff or tombstone stuff. I am bright and cheerful and happy to be alive.

IMG_4587

I decided that I would also have a cake for my family. I asked the woman at the bakery to make me a cake to share with my family that would have enough blue flowers so that everyone could have one with each piece. She made me the most extraordinary birthday cake covered with flowers and she made it look like a lovely spring hat. I love it!

I went back into celebration mode. I went out with my ‘mirthday’ (mirthday = middle of our birthdays) buddy. Her birthday is two days and one year before mine. We always celebrate with a lovely lunch and a shopping trip to Chico’s. The tradition continues.

I met another best friend and went to a local favorite, Andre’s. It was delicious and fun. She surprised with a lovely sculpture of a writer. It sits happily on my entrance desk.

And I went out with my husband and son for dinner and home for cake and gifts. As a family we accomplished a great success constructing the rebound trampoline I got for my birthday.

I might be 60. But last week I walked almost 70,000 steps.

I might be 60, but I still play a pretty sharp ‘Words with Friends.’

I might be 60, but I still work part time.

I might be 60, but I can still travel the world.

I remember when I was in my early 20s. I was visiting my aunt and grandma. My aunt said, “I went to bed a young woman and I woke up an old lady.” She handed me the newspaper. And there was a little article circled. It said, “Elderly man, 59, falls to his death.” My aunt had said she was 39 for years. So my response, “No Aunt Leona, what are you talking about ! You are only 39!” We all laughed. But that article has been haunting me.

Setting up for the tea party!

Setting up for the tea party!

The room for my party looked wonderful with all the brightly colored napkins and flowers and hearts displayed on the tables.  I even asked the bakery to make all the sugar cookies iced in teal!  I had only my favorite flavors for the desserts: lemon, raspberry and chocolate.  Everything looked and tasted wonderfully!

Lovely turquoise cookies and other goodies.

Lovely turquoise cookies and other goodies.

So today, to prove I am not elderly I have planned an exotic and eccentric tea party outfit to wear to my 60th birthday party. I am, of course, wearing blue: Blue dress, blue shoes, blue hat, and a lovely blue, turquoise and green sparkling and lightly beaded caftan-ish long jacket.

I am ready to meet my sixties without feeling blue…but being the best and brightest blue ever!

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Take Mom to Work Day, at The Peres Center for Peace in Jaffa, Israel

1 Dec

My visit to Israel would not be complete without the ability to kvell about my daughter and her job. So I was excited when she told me that she would take me to work with her for a few hours to see her office and meet the people she works with at the Peres Center for Peace in Jaffa, Israel.

Situated in a unique glass and concrete building, the Peres Center for Peace is the vision of Shimon Peres, former president and prime minister of Israel and the recipient of the Noble Peace Prize. Now that he is retired from any political roles, and past the age of 90, he works each day at the Center, where he hopes that ideas and programs will help to create lasting peace between Israel and its Arab neighbors.

My daughter began working at the Center earlier this month, just a few weeks before I arrived. But it is her dream employment. With her master’s degrees in both Middle East Studies and the Politics of Conflict from Ben Gurion University in the Negev, she has wanted to devote her life to working for a world of peace.   In her previous job she did have a opportunity to work with non-profits that focused on community building, which gave her some satisfaction. But, now she has an opportunity to contribute. Yes it is in a small way, but she has a start. What mother would not kvell in delight and pride? So I will and I am.

A private tour through the building with my daughter was one of the highlights. It included a walk through the lovely auditorium, which faces the Mediterranean Sea. Just last week I saw pictures posted on the Center’s Facebook page of Peres meeting with a group in this very room. And in the back of the photo, I saw my daughter! Now I am walking down the stairs of the empty room and standing near the podium on the stage where Peres sat a few days ago!

Walls of concrete and glass reach to the sky around the bookcases.

Walls of concrete and glass reach to the sky around the bookcases.

We also visited the library, which one day will be open to the public. The library is an amazing space with ceilings that seem to reach to the sky, surrounded by walls made in alternating waves of glass and concrete.

Then we walked through the offices, where I met some of the people she works with each day. I enjoyed meeting every person, because now I have a face and a voice and a place for the people she had told me about. They are no longer just names floating in the internet cyberspace between the USA and Israel. Now they are real people who had the foresight to hire my daughter to join their important team.

Another highlight was to listen to her field a phone call from a potential volunteer who wants to help at the Center. My daughter (among other duties) is in charge of all volunteers and interns who want to also be a part of the Center and its work towards peace.

And it is okay that I did not meet Shimon Peres, I did not expect to. However, I looked through the frosted glass into the area where his office is located. And I saw the outlines of the people who were meeting with him. Again I kvell thinking that my daughter is working on the same floor as Peres. She told me the first time she saw him was on the elevator. How cool is that?

The view of Jaffa and the Sea from my daughter's office

The view of Jaffa and the Sea from my daughter’s office

As I sat in my daughter’s office, I looked out the window to Jaffa, and then to the Sea. I am looking at the view that she sees each work day. I look at this extremely modern building and it’s concrete floors, glass walls and wave like structures. I imagine my daughter working here for years as she lives her dream. But most important is the smile on her face and the joyful gleam in her eyes when she talks about her job!

On Facebook: The Peres Center For Peace. The one with over 16,000 likes. The other one is not it.

Tags: , , , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →