Meandering around Maine: Camden

Tags

adoptee, Maine, Travel, waterfront

Opening picture: Waterfront in Camden ~ Afternoon on the Gulf of Maine

How wonderful to “adopt” a new place on the planet! 

Since before the Pandemic, I’d not traveled anywhere except California to see the grandkids It was time to break out of the rut.

A friend and I just returned from a Sierra Club trip billed as “Jewels of the Maine Coast.” Guided by two Sierra Club leaders, Rochelle (from my home town of Santa Fe) and her co-leader Gail (a Maine resident), the first part of our vacation included Camden and environs. Daily hiking was the theme, but our week was enriched by cultural and educational events.

Camden, Maine: A beautiful place to begin the adventure. The Maine Stay Inn, owned and operated by former attorneys Janis and Peter Kessler, was built in the early 1800s. A three-story white clapboard, “home base” was located on High Street, Camden’s historic district. Every room was furnished with cosy sofas or chairs, beds with comforters, bookcases filled with classic and contemporary books, adorned with starched cotton curtains and all manner of creature comforts. My friend and I occupied a suite on the third floor.

The Maine Stay Inn

Historic District in Camden: park area on the grounds of Maine Stay Inn

One of several excellent Camden restaurants, featuring lobster, mussels and other seafood delights

Sweetgrass Winery, a short drive from Camden

Sweetgrass wine casks, containing blueberry cabernets, blueberry hard cider, cranberry smash and spirits made from local berries and barley

Our first week included a four mile tour of Merryspring Nature Center. Denise, the docent, introduced us to medicinal and culinary herb gardens. One “pod” comprised herbs used exclusively for dyes. Another area featured hybrid chestnut trees. After the herb lecture, we made our way along forested paths and visited springs used by Penobscot Indians and Revolutionary War soldiers. After lunch, back at Maine Stay Inn, we went to Beech Hill for hiking through blueberry fields.

On our last day in Camden, we drove to Sweetgrass Winery and were hosted to a tasting of wines and sangrias made with not grapes, but cherries. Tomorrow we would go by ferry from Port Clyde to Monhegan Island. (Stay tuned for Part Two. coming in October.)

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Blue Monday or Serenity in San Diego

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Getting away, healing, Relaxation, San Diego, Travel

The road going nowhere in particular

 

“Wherever you go, you take yourself with you” goes the saying. After arriving for a short vacation in one of my favorite cities, San Diego, I was therefore not surprised that “Edgar” had brought himself along for the ride. He, or “it” if you prefer, had packed himself in the depths of my ginormous suitcase, amongst the slacks, tops, electronics, books, walking shoes and books. Egad, can’t I go anywhere to escape from that demon?
To understand Edgar, you need to know that I am a “recovering” adoptee. My original mother relinquished me when I was five. Even though I grew up with wonderful adoptive parents, I’ve struggled for years to come to terms with being adopted. I wish I could announce in a loud voice that I’ve succeeded in getting over my adoption issues. The best I can offer, however, is to say confidently that I am making progress.
This change of scene, however, has been more beneficial than weeks of therapy. San Diego’s magic begins to take effect the moment I arrive. The adjectives that come to mind: salubrious, sensational, scenic. Add to that another ingredient: simplicity. There is something quite wonderful about running away from home. Life can be pared down to an easier pace.
My host family (son, daughter-in-law and two grandchildren) leaves for work and school every weekday at 7 a.m., so on this overcast late Autumn morning, I embark on a two-hour walk to a nearby coffee shop. I’ve been visiting this San Diego neighborhood for the better part of the last decade and traveling the same route, to the java cafe. First it was “It’s a Grind,” which went out of business. Then it became “Sweetest Buzz.” But this time, there is no coffee shop. Where the “Buzz” should have been loomed a completely empty retail space. A “For Lease” sign was taped on the window. A sad, empty storefront occupied the place I’d spent memorable hours composing on my laptop and sipping lattes.
Had the expedition fallen flat, or was there something else awaiting me? Instead of going home right away, I decide to check out the park near my host family’s house. Walking a couple miles back to the neighborhood, I sit and enjoy a serenade of songbirds, the ambiance of healthy young trees, a verdant carpet of green grass.
The park itself is a marvel. When I first saw it years ago, it looked unpromising, even hopeless. Today, the community outdoor space is filled with children swinging, sliding, digging in the sandbox. Parents visit with one another. Laughter from a toss ball game sounds across the field. An elderly man is marching along the sidewalk, stopping at each circuit workout to do pushups or pullups or a balance beam.
The day isn’t complete, however, until I take a hike on the nearby former dairy road. It’s a road I’ve walked before. One of the city’s many walking paths, it branches off from a busy thoroughfare and loops back into a small canyon. Thistle, purple flowers, and feathery plumed bushes brighten a brown and sage terrain. Ahead of me, a large bird, strutting in a quail-like fashion, walks across my path. Other than it, I am alone. The sun intensifies, but just in time a gentle breeze picks up.
Of course, being a grandmother/writer and retired from a regular career means that life should be simpler anyway. That’s not how it works, however. When I’m at home, a million projects shout out: “clean me,” “organize me,” “declutter me.” Right here, in sunny, wonderful San Diego, the only thing I have to declutter is my mind. Accepting victory, I acknowledge that I’ve once again I dueled the evil Edgar. On this gloriously sunny Monday, mine is the victory.

The author is reminded that “Not all who wander are lost”

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Adopting a New Year

Tags

adoptee, Albany, Friendship, Holidays, New Mexico, Niverville, Remembering, Renewal, Santa Fe, The New Year, Travel, Upstate New York

I’ve always believed that if you want to see where you’re going, it’s advisable to see where you’ve been. This holiday season allowed me to do just that…

I’m in love with a new part of America! (New to me, that is.) My friend Deborah Aydt Marinelli, a soul sister with whom I spent years of my much younger life,invited me to spend Christmas holiday with her in Niverville, New York. Because my sons and grandchildren wouldn’t be coming to visit until the end of December, I decided “Why not?” It would be only the second time I hadn’t spent Christmas in Santa Fe. The first time was when I travelled to India to research a novel. (That’s Clara and The Hand of Ganesha, to be completed in 2019).
Deborah is one of my most brilliant and accomplished friends. She’s a PhD in literature, a professor, world traveler, author of over a dozen books, mostly young adult novels. After losing her beloved husband Larry in the spring of 2018, she came to Santa Fe, New Mexico, to revisit old, formerly familiar places. We spent time together. Our mutual Santa Fe years, in the 70s and 80s, had created in us a deep bond, one that survived the 30 years that had passed since we’d last seen each other face to face. She knew my children when they were in elementary school; I considered her son and daughter as part of my own family.

Kinderhook Lake from Deborah’s window

When I accepted her gracious invitation to visit for Christmas, I fully expected to help her with estate and business matters. Having been through the process of losing a husband, I would be the supportivel amanuensis. Instead of that scenario, however, she treated me to a tour of the area around her hometown of Niverville, New York.
We enjoyed a magical performance of The Nutcracker in Albany. Other days found us at a matinee of the new Mary Poppins movie, and a beautiful program of Lessons and Carols at a Dutch Reform Church. I went with her to a Friends meeting in Chatham, we relished lunches at little general stores and country inns, feasted on shepherd’s pie at the Beckman Arms Inn in Rhinebeck, New Yorkthrough. The Beekman Arms has hosted many luminaries throughout the centuries, including President George Washington. Deborah invited nine of her friends on the 25th and we enjoyed a magnificent turkey dinner with lavish trimmings.

The Egg Performance Space in Albany, NY

After Christmas day, we traveled by car, bus and the subway to meet a friend for lunch in New York City. After lunch, we walked all over Greenwich Village and the West End, including along the iconic Highline. We passed by the former brownstone apartment of poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, popped into galleries, found post-Christmas 80% off sales at small boutiques. Two sweaters for the price of one? Who could resist?
We drove through the countryside to attend events.The rolling land around Niverville and Albany is lovely. Forests, farmland, fields of sheep and llamas: a refreshing change from the high desert environment of northern New Mexico. We passed by the home of Robert Frost, Bard College, the Culinary Institute of America (CIA), the Village of Red Hook. Many villages, boroughs, and hamlets exist cheek and jowl in this corner of our country. Except for the often overcast skies of Winter (I’ve resided in the sunny Southwest too long), I could live there quite happily.

The Beekman Arms in Rhinebeck, NY

Nine days flew by. The visit, all too soon, came to an end. The best part had been reuniting with Deborah. I invited her to the sunny Southwest for Christmas 2019, and we vowed to keep in closer touch throughout the year. I’ve always believed that if you want to see where you’re going, it’s advisable to see where you’ve been. This holiday season allowed me to do just that. Discovering upstate New Year, an old friendship made new again, walking around The Big Apple: all of this comprised a grand finale to 2018.
May YOUR 2019 be full of health, happiness, prosperity and productivity. May we bridge the gaps with those who do not share our beliefs. As Gandhi put it, may we be the change we wish to bring. HAPPY NEW YEAR one and all!

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What was the best part of your holiday? Feedback invited! Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on life as seen through adoption colored glasses.

Adoptee feels at home in Ukraine

Tags

adoptee, Babi Yar, Cathedrals, Dneiper River, Europe, Gardens, Hope, Opera House, Parks, Travel, Trees, Ukraine

St. Sophia Cathedral in Kiev is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Its 13 glimmering domes are visible from all over the city.

Good to be back!
I’ve just returned from an unforgettable journey: 11 days sailing up the Dneiper River in the mid-section of Ukraine. The largest European country, Ukraine is a beautiful, fertile land known as “the breadbasket of Europe.” This was a memorable trip filled with beauty and history, much of that history quite sobering. “Ukraine” means “border,” and the unique position of the eastern country of Europe has shaped its destiny. The Russian empress Catherine II annexed Ukraine in the 18th century, but, under Nikita Kruschev, in 1954, it became its own country in 1954. With the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the far eastern edge of Ukraine became increasingly unstable. A large part of this “edge territory” is Russian-speaking. However, it is part of Ukraine. The “Revolution of Dignity” in 2014, a statement of Ukranian pride, resulted in violent deaths in the center of Kiev, the country’s capital.

My travel buddy and I decided on Ukraine while it was still a possible destination. But this is a post about the bright side of Ukraine, not its struggles. There is much to learn, much to admire. In Viking River Cruise style, we sailed mostly at night and explored cities and countryside by day. Our first port was Odessa, built on the site of an ancient Greek colony. Many cultures settled here – Crimean Tartars, Turks, Russians and Germans. Our ship docked, and we spent several days tooling about the city, admiring its elegant Baroque buildings, elaborate facades and balconies, tree lined boulevards. The variety of huge old trees (chestnut, poplar, acacia, linden) rivaled the architecture. Roses of brilliant hues rule the city’s parks and gardens. We spent time going up and down the Potemkin steps, mostly by funicular.

One night I went to the magnificent rococo opera house for a production of “Swan Lake.” Other highlights were the Odessa catacombs and the vast Akkerman Fortress, a 13th century citadel.

We made our way north, visiting Kherson and Zaporozhye. The Island of Khortitsa, former stronghold of the Cossacks, was another highlight, including modern-day Cossacks performing acrobatic feats on horseback. Their athleticism and commanding style was thrilling to observe.
After more village and city visits, we ended up in Kiev, capital of Ukraine. St. Sophia Cathedral was a highlight of this magnificent city. Hard to say whether it is more impressive on the outside, with its thirteen gold domes, or the inside with towering gilded and mosaic rotunda ceilings. The final tour was through Jewish Kiev and included “Babi Yar,” the site of WWII massacres. We also went to Podyl, one of the oldest synogogues in the city. The journey ended on an upbeat note, as Podyl included a school. Children preparing for summer camp were playing outdoors, a fitting symbol of hope for the future.

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Join adoptee/author Elaine Pinkerton every other Monday for reflections on adoption and life. Your comments are invited. If you’d like to contribute a guest post related to the adoption theme, please contact her through this website.

 

 

 

The Sounds of Serbia

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Belgrade, Danube, Opera, Resilience, Sava, Serbia, Travel

Over several years of blogging, I’ve talked a lot about adoption. As every adoptee knows, you wake up in the morning and you’re still adopted. However, with self-examination, relentless honesty, and unconditional self-acceptance, one can move on. After years of grappling with “adoption issues,” I’m allowing myself to move on in another way. Travel, destination Europe.

Along with my friend Lauren, I went in April to Eastern Europe, sailing on the Danube

Overlooking the convergence of Sava and Danube Rivers

with Viking River Cruises. Of all the cities I visited in the tour “From Budapest to Bucharest,” Belgrade is one of my favorites. The former capital of the state of Yugoslavia, Belgrade is now the capital of Serbia. Our guide told us that it’s been destroyed and rebuilt 20 times. Resilience exemplified. Our land tour explored the Old Town, nestled along the Sava River. (The Sava and Danube Rivers converge.) Steeped in Byzantine, Turkish and Austrian/Hungarian influences, Belgrade is a city at the crossroads. It’s been through a lot.

The Belgrade Fortress, an ancient stone behemoth of a fortification was most recently reconstructed during the Ottoman period in the 18th century. It is surrounded by the Kalmegdan Park, a grassland haven, full of flowering trees. The city, our guide tells us, has 32 hills. We climb to the summit of one such hill, and views are spectacular. Led by “Sejean,” a local man in his thirties, we make our way toward the massive gates. To our left, in a former moat, is a tennis court. Two men playing avidly. The thwack of tennis balls reverberates through the spring air.

Leaving the thwacks behind, we continue through another moat area. On both sides we see cannons and tanks from the World Wars. An outdoor military museum! The fortress is mammoth, and we ramble on through the stonework. Our guide continues to fill us with lore.

On to the National Theater and a behind the scenes tour of the Serbian Opera House within. Established by a ruler known as Prince Michael, the National Theater dates back

Seats cost as little as six Euros

to 1868. The building is an architectural masterpiece in stone. Inside it’s all hallways, stairwells and byzantine passageways. Our guide, a lovely college student named Tanya, takes us into the opera theater itself. Breathtaking! Gilded trim, red velvet seats, several balconies and a vast stage. The performers are so dedicated, we learn, that during WWII, they performed daily even during air raids. Today, the National Theater houses three artistic ensembles—opera, drama and ballet. All together these ensembles present more than 600 performances a year.

We are ushered into the opera’s salon, a combination museum/small opera hall. As we sip sparkling wine, two young singers serenade us with arias from The Elixir of Love, Rigoletto, and Il Trovatore. An enchanting interlude. Next, a tour of the costume shop, and a breath of air on the balcony overlooking

The opera’s costume shop

Belgrade’s Republic Square. We make our way back to the Viking Longship docked on the Danube. The roar of late afternoon city traffic surrounds us, but the memory of Verdi and Donizetti plays even louder. The best part of travel, I’m finding, is adopting another country’s culture.

Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on adoption and life. Comments welcome!

Eastern European Odyssey~Captivated by Croatia

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, Balkan Wars, Croatia, Music, Neoclassical Arhcitecture, Travel, Truth, Vukovar

On a recent cruise on the Danube River through Eastern Europe, I fell in love with each new place. But of all five countries—Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria and Romania—I was most captivated by Croatia. Having survived occupations, brutal wars, cultural genocide, and economic disaster, Croatia, with its beautiful scenery, young population, and neoclassical architecture amidst gutted out buildings, is an upbeat location.

My travel buddy Gloria and I are out walking. It is a peaceful Sunday afternoon in Vukovar, Croatia, a city of 25,000. Ravaged through the1990s by the Balkan Wars, the city conveys an air of survival. It offers a sobering combination: lovely Neoclassical architecture as well as gutted out buildings.

“Why,” asked a fellow travelers, doesn’t the government just raze these wrecked buildings and rebuild? Why let them fall into further decrepitude?”

Our guide intimates that there are two main reasons. Many of the original owners of these sad buildings fled the country and cannot be located. Additionally, there is a nationwide shortage of money. Rebuilding will take a long, long time. In outlying areas beyond the peaceful town of Vukovar, there are still minefields. German Shepherds are sniffing out explosives.

We stroll about, enjoying the open city arcade with its traditional obelisk, a monument surrounded by statues: saints, mythological figures, military heroes. The yellow and white municipal buildings lend an air of order and civility to this formerly war-torn area.

Sunday strolling in the heart of Vukovar

Back onboard our longship, theVili, we are treated to a quintet of Croatian musicians, a group that calls itself “Veritas.” Strumming and plucking a variety of stringed instruments,the young musicians serenade us. They are exuberant and clearly talented. One feels that they are living up to their name, “Veritas.” (In Roman mythology, Veritas, meaning truth, was the goddess of truth, a daughter of Saturn and the mother of Virtue.)

The virtue of truthfulness, was considered one of the main virtues any good Roman should possess.  The truth of Croatia, it seems, is that life goes on.

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Join Elaine every other Monday for a new post. She writes about adoption, hiking and life. You’re invited to comment!

Eastern European Odyssey – Part II

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Expanding horizons, Horses, Hungary, Pusta, River Cruise, Travel

To wander is to be alive.
― Roman Payne

Travel gives one a chance to look at life from a different perspective. Since I view the world through “adoption colored glasses,” I think of what I see and do as a way to escape my adoption conundrums, a means of moving beyond the lens of my own existence. A recent Viking River cruise to five countries—Hungary, Bosnia, Serbia, Bulgaria and Romania—truly expanded my horizons.

The trip was full of castles, fortresses, history, beautiful landscape and cultural wonders. That said, the small gem-like experiences are what I most cherish. One such gem occurred on the third day of our 10-day journey. We were in Kalocsa, Hungary. A short drive from town took us to the Bakodpuszta Equestrian Center.

Surrounded by many acres of farmland, the horse center is part of a working farm. Residents of the Hungarian Pustza (roughly translated, this means “grassland” or “treeless flat place.” ) love their horses and cherish the tradition of horsemanship. For centuries, people in this region have relied on the elegant Hungarian Warmblood breed for transportation, settlement and defending their land.

The morning was cool and overcast. Our group of twenty travelers were welcomed with shot glasses of rakia and slices of bread with pig drippings and paprika.  Thus fortified, we climbed into the bleachers that faced an oval-shaped dirt field. At one end, an oboe player serenaded us with mournful ballads. In seconds, the horses and their riders appeared, galloping around the ring. Adding to the going-back-in-time feeling, the riders were decked out in baggy royal blue trousers, capes and gallant black hats. Definitely made us feel at the crossroads of Europe and Asia. It was thrilling, heartwarming. Beauty in motion. The following photos are just a few of the highlights…

The show took me back to my 12-year-old self when I drew horses, wanted to own one, and was literally in love with horses. Just about everything, I’ve learned, can be part of adoption recovery. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve “recovered” enough to stop “recovering” and start living. Whatever the case, I’m grateful for that special morning.
To learn more about Hungarian horsemanship, check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVWWtOrYrDY

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Join Elaine on Mondays for reflections on adoption and life. Please comment and share your own transformative.journeys.

Adopting a Place: Puerto Vallerta Musings

Tags

Adopting a Place, Beach, Mexico, Ocean, Oscars, Puerto Vallerta, Relaxation, Travel

NOTE: Being at home in the world, one of the lessons of adoption recovery, is a good motto for not just adoptees but everyone. Christine Boss, author of today’s guest post, has a flair for life, no matter where it takes her. Her piece about Oscar Night at the Beach  reveals how one can be alone but far from lonely.

1:30pm
Puerto Vallarta Airport
Off the plane (two connecting flights)
Out of the complimentary limo
Up to the room
Out of travel clothes layered for rain and snow
Into comfortable cottons and flip flops and hat too
Down the elevator

Aha
Straight to the beach

Feet in the sand
Toes in the water
Banderas Bay embracing me

Following the curve of the land meeting water
I walk

Climbing over rock outcroppings extending like fingers
Passing palapas shading reclining sunbathers
Seeing familiar buildings
Finding new ones surrounded by acres of green
Blue skies and blue water forever

Ahead
Strange apparition on the beach

Closer now
Curious
A giant inflatable turned sideways at the waters edge
Chairs on the left
Tables and chairs on the right

“Por favor, what is going on?”

“Welcome Senora”
(no longer senorita)

“It is Night at the Oscars!”
“Really?”
“Really…and complimentary for all guests Senora.
Starts just as soon as the sun sets.”

Really?
Goodness how did they know I was not wanting to miss this ritual.
Why I had even sat through the entire “The Life and Times of Llewelyn”
Not to miss the big event now

It would soon be cooler
Must return for a wrap in the room

Radiant sky now
Sun descending
Quickly
Chairs filling up fast

Found one!
Next to three females (from California, no less)

Darkness now
There is Ellen projected onto the enormous screen
She’s speaking Spanish
We’re all smiling ‘cause it’s Ellen
10 minutes go by
Not sure what we are watching because it is in rapid fire Spanish

But what the hay…we have red wine and popcorn

Suddenly Ellen is joking with Meryl
English
We all applaud

“Mr. Hublot” wins for Animated Short
I caught that one at home in Santa Fe at The Screen

There is Meryl screeching in “August: Osage County”
Dame Judi Dench persevering in “Philomena”
(those Catholics)
Sandra floating in Space
And the winner is…
Cate
Amazing actress and my choice of film
Woody I may not understand your personal life but this was a genius of a film for our times

Getting darker and cooler now
Deep blue
Navy shadows
Not a good idea to walk beach back (being female and alone)
Lose my way amongst the palms and canals
Meet lost Canadian couple
Together we twist and turn through mazes of walkways
Arrive at the new hub
Architectural wonder
Grand Piano in the middle of a lake

Love to stop and listen but I’ve been up since 4:00am

Taxi
My new short term home
Hear noises coming from the bar
Yikes there is Matthew McConaughey accepting Best Actor

11:30 or is it midnight
Time for bed

Alone but not alone
Perfect start to another adventure

Fall to sleep to the sound of waves breaking below my window.

After retiring from a successful entrepreneurial career as an interior designer and realtor in San Francisco, Christine Boss adopted Santa Fe, NM as her new home. She is an avid bicyclist and hiker who loves music, reading and travel. Puerto Vallerta is one of her favorite destinations.

An Adoptee in India – Part 4

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, Gratitude, healing, Holidays, my story, Southern India, Travel, writing

Author’s Note: As an adoptee, I am free to invent my own family tree, even if that tree is an entire country. Spending much of last month in Southern India, I discovered a new way of being authentic. My novel-in-progress, Arundati, is set in Tamil Nadu, Kerala and Karnataka, and these travels allowed me to symbolically live inside my protagonist’s skin. Today’s post continues an ongoing travelogue about the sojourn that touched me to the core. The beauty and chaos, the people, the land itself will provide fuel for all my future creations…

Wednesday, December 25. Along with Charles, Rebecca, Daphne. Phil and Lynne, went

Evening Cruise on the Kerala Backwaters

to a Christmas service at St. Francis Church. We returned to our hotel to gather the others and went en masse to the Mattancherry Palace, also known as the Dutch Palace. Tiled roof, whitewashed walls, an interior filled with colorful murals and Hindu temple art. The Mattancherry is a potent reminder of Cochin’s long history of outside influences and melting pot culture. Lunch at the Grand Hotel, an upscale dining establishment decorated in white, tan and gold.
The afternoon and evening were spent on an evening cruise on the Kerala backwaters. We enjoyed a Kathakali performance, the two male dancers depicting a tale from the Mahabarata. Prelude before the dance: A recorded overvoice explained the facial expressions (rolling eyes, twitching brows, sniggering mouth, wiggling noses etc.) that depicted desire, compassion, anger, valor, fear, disgust, wonder, and tranquillity. It was a display of veritable facial aerobics! This was followed by a demonstration of 23 different mudras (hand positions), after which the fight between the demon and the god ensued. Live sitar music and singing accompanied the story-telling dance, and in the end, good triumphed. Of course!
An interlude of peaceful sunset floating by Cochin’s shores. Lovely views of Chinese fishing nets, sounds of birds welcoming the descending night. The day ended with our best meal to date at Oceanos Restaurant. It began with

Walking around Fort Cochi

pumpkin soup, included four kinds of seafood, and ended with ice cream. It’s not stretching the truth to say that I’ve “adopted” India for my novel-in-progress and that this was A CHRISTMAS DAY I’LL ALWAYS REMEMBER!

An Adoptee in India/Pillars from the Past

Tags

adoptee, Learning and Discovery, Mahabalipuram, Pondicherry, Schoolchildren, Shiva, Southern India, Travel

Monday, Dec. 16 – Today began at Mahabalipuram, my inspiration for coming to southern India in the first place. It is a world heritage site, the cradle of southern Indian sculpture. We entered the area of Five Rathas (chariots), where we climbed huge boulders that looked as though the ocean had shaped them. Goats basking about. Visited the Shore Temple and admired the images of Shiva as well as some tiny owls peeking out of nichos. The sanctuaries were built in the 7th and 8th centuries. Especially beautiful were the rathas (temples in the form of chariots), and the open air reliefs featuring thousands of glorifications of Shiva and the “Descent of the Ganges.”

The road to Pondicherry was beautiful, and whenever we weren’t listening to more edification from our tireless guide Charles, we were stopping at roadside points of interest. India, Charles told us, has 35 states. In 1673, Francois Martin bought land for his East India Company. The beginning of a change from being a small fishing village to the French/Indian bustling city that it is today. The population is 700,000, a million in the larger area. We visited Sacred Heart Church, walked along Goubert Avenue, which is right by the sea.

After leaving Pondicherry, we stopped at a fishing village, Nanelvadu. It was bright,

8th Graders awaiting the school bus

cheerful, filled with children in uniform awaiting the school bus. The boys wore striped yellow shirts, neckties. The older boys, 8th graders, wore black pants and white shirts. Every house had a “kolon” at the entrance, brightly colored lotus shaped designs. The women of the houses drew them freshly each morning. It felt peaceful and mellow as we walked toward the shore. Fishing boats, people sitting and waiting. Apparently the fishing has not been good; the mood seemed glum.

A new entryway design every morning

This is the month of Margazay, pilgrimages (from December 1 through January 14), a time to gain balance and stability. Everything is based on the lunar calendar. There are 400 million cows, Charles said, in India. Southern India grows rice and its coasts are the source of much seafood. We stopped at an open air vegetable market and bought lots of produce for the orphanage visit (scheduled for the next day). For 100 rupees, I got beans, beets, eggplant, carrots, and (for my own consumption) a few oranges.

Fortunately we were traveling by bus rather than ox cart!

We passed miles of parked trucks lined up to distribute rice. Witnessed an ox cart stuck in the river mud, one wheel apparently having broken down. Others were trying to help the hapless driver. Stopped and witnessed the struggle for awhile, then had to move on. Reached Tanjore by late afternoon.