The Jewel of Santorini

Some will immediately notice that a day is missing from my blog.  That would be Wednesday, September 22.  Overwhelmed by the experiences of the prior 4 days, a “day-off” was called; and so I sent word to Brother Maurus not to worry about my absence, but to go forth with the pilgrims to the Island of Rhodes.  And though within sight of this attractive city and island, I remained aboard to enjoy some reading, blogging, and the quiet which comes with the majority ashore, missing the city I could see just moments away.

Old Town, from above the harbor of Rhodes (http://www.greecetravel.com/rhodes/oldtown.htm)

We sailed overnight from Rhodes to a coastal town of Crete, Agios Nicolaos.  It was here that we disembarked to Knossos, the capital of the ancient Minoan Civiliation (see entry “Cretans, too”).  By 11:15am we set sail for what many consider the jewel of the Cyclades, Santorini (officially Thira).  By 4:15pm the shipboard activities director, Elizabeth, was urging us to the upper decks to begin to admire the sparkle of this enchantment.

The Cyclades.  Note that Santorini (aka Thira) is southernmost.  (Source: http://www.greeka.com/Cyclades)

The jewel rose from the horizon, first ahead, then to port, and to starboard.  It rose from a hazy obscurity as a rocky fastness, yet soon began to reveal its many facets — layered rock, abrupt soaring height, topped by what appeared to be snow (but which proved to be houses!)  Many details emerged, as attested by the photos below.

Santorini, Main Island

Lighthouse near Akrotiri. Santorini

Highest point of the Island of Santorini

Drawing closer to the harbor, smaller craft began to appear — unique in design to the island — tourist punts prowling about with guides speaking of the volcanic nature of this Aegean jewel.  They would be telling their guests that 3600 years ago a massive eruption threw a major portion of the original single island into the atmosphere and buried the remainder under hundreds of feet of ash.  The ultimate results were two islands, with a natural harbor (lagoon) whose depth of 1300 feet accommodates all manner of seacraft.

As we slowed for harbor entry, the new caldera (mouth of the active volcano) rose to port of our ship; the lifeless black surface, a-jumble with lava rock, revealed the earth recreating itself even as the sea persists.

Our ship enters the lagoon, the old caldera, Santorini

Local tourist vessel, with new caldera in background, Santorini harbor

New caldera, Santorini Harbor

Distracted by scenes to port and starboard, one could easily miss that ahead lay the harbor proper.  From a distance earlier it appeared that one other cruise ship was in port, probably anchored over the one site (we had been told) where a ship could drop its anchor.  Any others arriving would need to maintain their positions by thrusters or, having debarked their passengers, cruise about the islands until such time as their passengers returned.   Visual distance can be deceptive, we all know.  Hold one’s thumb up to a distant object and it disappears behind flesh and nail; all the while one knows this is an allusion.  Thus so as our craft came into harbor: not one, but five other ships had preceded us, and to our port we could see a sixth sailing away!

And then there were five!

Smaller cruise ship sailing from Santorini Harbor

It may have occurred by now that getting ashore might not be with the ease of gangway and concrete pier.  The two landing points — known as old harbor and new harbor — are not really harbors as we had encountered thus far.  They are landing spots for smaller craft -tenders – leaving and receiving folks from the tourist bus lot (new harbor, destinations numerous), and Fira (old harbor).

Map of Islands of Santorini, Thira being the largest

Harbor Tender, Santorini Harbor

The harbor tenders rapidly came alongside in spite of their continual service to the other ships in harbor (evidence of great organization and experience).   Our wait on Deck 2 was not long, as the tenders were both to port and starboard.  Father Eugene and I gladly moved to the port side, were helped aboard the small craft, and witnessed the remainder of the boarding (all seats were taken before we sailed!)  The journey, brief with a minimum of choppiness, brought us to old harbor.  Kindly helped to the concrete pier, we stepped into a sea of tourists, shops and vendors at the base of the looming island!

Now, there are three means by which one may scale the “cliff”, or face, to attain Fira: gondola (skylift), mule/donkey, or as a pedestrian.  The gondolas dangle from shore to peak over the harsh layers of rock interspersed with intrepid trees and shrubs.  The mules/donkeys are skilled and numerous (as we discovered), ferrying the brave along in an ambling fashion.  The pedestrian faces two challenges: wear and tear upon the body (lungs, knees, calves and back), and mule droppings (moist) and dry (windblown).  For Father Eugene and I, the first was too easy, the second too scary (imagine straddling a mule, sitting higher than the pedestrian walls which separate the path of steps from the air and rocks below!), the third preferred.

The climb began — once we found our way through the shops to the actual ascent point!  I refrained from taking pictures of the mules or other tourists.  Rather, we both became fascinated by the vista along the way, as evidenced by the stops (for me, both photo-ops and breathing points!) revealed below.

Beginning the ascent to Fira

Second stop on the ascent

Third stop, ascent

Fourth stop on the ascent

Fifth stop on the ascent, view of the harbor

Nearing the summit, looking down upon the path up

Seventh stop: our alternate means of ascent. What were we thinking?

Summit attained! View of new caldera and harbor

At the summit the last 20 steps were numbered…ending in 988!  Goodness!  We knew that not all steps of the ascent were equal; but we made them all!  Imagine the life of the mules/donkeys and their owners. We spent a few moments admiring our accomplishment.  Then we stumbled along doing what two male tourists typically do — walk, gawk and talk without shopping OR buying.  There were shops for scarves, handbags, jewelry, statuary, pottery, handcrafted fabrics, trinkets (cups, shot glasses, spoons, t-shirts), fine clothing, rocks (really!), gelato; banks with the ubiquitous ATM, hotels both starred and not, churches, and of course, restaurants with their street maitre’d (hawker of wares and greeter).  We found little of interest for purchase, but enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells.  Once gain, as on Mykonos, the gelato was excellent!  Our wanderings did take us to the Greek Orthodox Cathedral of Candlemas (for Roman Catholics, February 2), the ancient end to the Christmas Season (4oth day), which celebrates the Presentation of the Child Jesus in the Temple (see Gospel of Luke, Simeon and Anna).

A rare thing happened as we stepped from the Cathedral — it rained!  Stepping from the portico, it suddenly became apparent to me why all the other folk who had been in the Cathedral were loitering about on the porch!  It wasn’t a dousing rain; but it was enough to drive me back toward the ever-so-subtly smirking Father Eugene, whose wry wit greeted me with “Well, you figured it out”.  The winds began to seriously blow; it was cooling quickly with gusts lifting flag to salute and hats to soar or to be jealously grasped.  What seemed most appropriate was a fine dinner overlooking the harbor — a treat funded by a staff member who espoused the beauty of this jewel.  Don’t ask Father Eugene or I the name of the restaurant — neither introvert held it fast to memory.  However, ask upon what we dined, and both can readily attest: fine mineral water, a very fine Greek salad, warm bread, and fresh calamari (not deep-fried!).  The olives, feta and greens sang; the bread crunched and tore so fine; the wine (me) washed soothingly down both moresel and mouth-full; and the calamari — an aria to that which is of the sea!  Oh, heavens, it was good.

The afternoon was waning towards dusk as we departed the restaurant.  With little hesitation — knowing the hour, the ships sailing time, and our earlier ascent — we chose the Gondola to return us to the embarkation point to our ship.  As we stepped along, we found the evening unfolding in a robust and spectacular array of colors.

Eight euro (four apiece) bought us our fast descent (the ascent is just as rapid!) to the embarkation point.  Boarding proved a bit more challenging than from ship, as the winds were up and the harbor choppy.  The tender bore us quickly alongside the MV Louis Cristal onto which we lifted grateful legs for an end to our day. Father Eugene parted to his room and I to walk the deck to admire once again the visual wonders of Santorini.  Witnessing the last tender to arrive (the last of the tour bus folk, of whom some were our pilgrims), a short walk led to the aft Caruso bar, where a double Amaretto soothed me toward a night of slumber aboard our vessel, now steering for the Isle of Crete and evidence of the ancient Minoan civilization.

From Ephesus

We arrived at Kusadasi, Turkey, in the early afternoon, finding other already berthed cruise ships in the harbor.  With lunch to fuel us, we disembarked, passed through Turkish security and boarded our bus.  Our guide, Tuks, greeted us warmly.  A robust fellow with a barrel chest, dark hair, and strong voice, he is an archaeologist and lecturer at university in Izmir, a city not far from Kusadasi and the ancient ruins of Ephesus (where he has labored for 30 years, taking great pride in what has been unearthed and preserved).

 

 

 

Tuks, our guide

 

 

Our first destination: the House of the Virgin Mary

The House of the Virgin Mary (source: website)

“The House of the Virgin (Meryemana in Turkish), located in a nature park between Ephesus and Seljuk, is believed to be the last residence of the Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus. The peaceful site is sacred to both Christians and Muslims, and is visited by many tourists and pilgrims.

“According to predominant Christian tradition, Mary was brought to Ephesus by the Apostle John after the Resurrection of Christ and lived out her days there. This is based mainly on the traditional belief that John came to Ephesus (see St. John’s Basilica) combined with the biblical statement that Jesus consigned her to John’s care (John 19:26-27).

“Archaeologists who have examined the building identified as the House of the Virgin believe most of the building dates from the 6th or 7th century. But its foundations are much older and may well date from the 1st century AD, the time of Mary. This site had long been a place of pilgrimage for local Orthodox Christians.

“Since 1892 the House of the Virgin has been a Catholic pilgrimage site. It was restored by 1897 and a shelter for visitors was set up.

“The Meryama was later visited by Popes Paul VI and John Paul II, who confirmed its appropriateness as a place of pilgrimage. On November 29, 2006, Pope Benedict XVI celebrated mass here.”  Source: www.sacred-destinations.com

 The house sits on a plateau above an ancient valley.  Upon our arrival, we found the now typical sea of tourist buses.  Tuks took us through a major bazaar of shops and vendors to the site.  The throng of pilgrims pulsed along the way with us.  We viewed a large water cistern, lush green areas, the house and its interior, the fonts for filling / drinking of the ‘healing waters’ of the site’s spring.  Some of our group lit candles, while other pilgrims stuffed prayer intentions into a wall.

A sea of buses, The House of the Virgin Mary

 

Pilgrims on way

Water Cistern, in shape of key hole

Terraced Gardens, The House of the Virgin Mary

Pilgrims entering the House

 

Father Larry Richardt lighting candles

Prayer Request Wall

Holy spring water taps for pilgrims

This place, as all Christian pilgrim sites, reminds us of our faith in Christ – faith passed to us through the first apostle, Mary; faith passed to us through the companion of Mary’s later years, John; passed to us through faithful relationships which reveal the longing we have for being united with God, and God with us, no less than the longing of the Son for the Father.  For our Muslim brothers and sisters, who honor Mary as well, this site is holy as well.

Tuks shepherded us to our bus, and we motored back down to the valley.  Twists and turns, highway and city street, were our vehicles to the ancient ruins of Ephesus.

In biblical times, Ephesus was a thriving port city.  It is mentioned as recipient of a letter ascribed to St. Paul.  However, the city now lies more than 5 miles from the coast, its harbor silted in over the centuries.

Tuks was very enthusiastic and very proud of the archaeological work in which he has participated.  Having lead more than 1500 tours to the site, he reminded us of the massive amount of work, money and study of this ancient city.  He assured us that what has been unearthed, and in some cases restored, is but a fraction of what yet remains buried under centuries of dirt brought down by landslides, and earthquakes. 

The experience of walking from one end of ancient Ephesus to the other was overwhelming; for me, as a sensate (Myers-Briggs) it was exhausting.  This site consumed more pixels than any other for the entire duration of the pilgrimage!  Because of its enormity, I am going to arrange the photos below in topical groupings.  The captions will need to suffice as descriptives.

Roman Baths: no less than 3 have been excavated thus far.  Baths in Roman cities were integral to life and health.  Water was carried by aqueducts from mountainous heights, and sewage was carried away by yes operating drainage systems (see future Corinth entry).

Roman Baths, at main gate to Ancient

 

Looking toward west, water cistern, Ancient Ephesus

 

Water pipes, Ancient Ephesus

 

Sewer trench, Ancient Ephesus

Monumental Structures: It’s hard to choose which monumental structures to include here.  Each was significant in the life of the inhabitants of Ephesus: some religious, some civil, and some domestic.  They are placed here in the order encountered on our walk from the baths at the entry to the city (above) to the road to the harbor which is no more.

Odeum (city meeting hall) and Basilica (trading area), with Augustus' Agora (marketplace) in foreground, Ancient Ephesus

Municipality Palace (pyrtaneion), Ancient Ephesus

 

Temple of Domitian, Ancient Ephesus

Memorial of Memmesius, young boy who died, Ancient Ephesus

 

Heracles Gate, Ancient Ephesus

 

Trajan Fountain, Ancient Ephesus

 

Temple of Hadrian, Ancient Ephesus

 

 

 

Houses and shops restoration, Ancient Ephesus

 

 

House ruins, mosaic floor, Ancient Ephesus

 

 

 

Ancient House, next to 7 terrace houses under excavation, Ancient Ephesus

 

Facade, Library of Celsus (third largest library in ancient world), Ancient Ephesus

Floor of Library, Ancient Ephesus

Mazaeus and Mithridates Gate into Agora, Ancient Ephesus

 

Commercial Agora, Ancient Ephesus

Looking toward Terraced Houses excavation site, from Agora

 

Grand Theatre, Ancient Ephesus (though currently under some restoration, the theatre is used for performances yet today)

Athenaeum (school of the arts) remains, Ancient Ephesus

 

The long road pilgrims walked, Ancient Ephesus

 

 Ruins: This archaeological site in only partially restored.  The process continues — not only because of what is yet to be discovered beneath the 6 feet or more of earth which has accumulated over the centuries, but also because of the artifacts laying about.  A few of those are shown below.

Store of terra cotta pipes, Ancient Ephesus

Ruble to be restored, Ancient Ephesus

 

Rubble of columns awaiting reconstruction

 

This was a very long day for all pilgrims!  Departing the ruins of ancient Ephesus — all a-jumble with memories of the day and looking forward to a Captain’s Dinner in our finest clothes upon return to our ship — we found ourselves sent forth from the site to our bus by an Ephesian feline.   She (?) appeared as overwhelmed as we were feeling!

Ephesian Felin

A Revelation on Patmos

 

Skala Harbor, Patmos

Tuesday morning brought us to the port of Skala, Island of Patmos.  Having sailed overnight from Mykonos (east and slightly southeast) to arrive at this Greek Island just west of the Turkish coast, we were eager to see and learn.

Mentioned in the Book of Revelation, Chapter 1:9 (“I, John, your brother, who share with you the distress, the kingdom, and the endurance we have in Jesus, found myself on the island called Patmos^* because I proclaimed God’s word and gave testimony to Jesus”),  this island was one of the Roman Empire’s choice isles of exile.

In 1099, the Greek monk Christodoulous founded a monastery, fortified it, beginning centuries of promoting scholarship and spirituality in this place.  Today the Monastery boasts one of the richest monastic collections in Greece, including manuscripts from the 5th Century AD, an original El Greco, Catherine the Great jewelry, and Saintly relics.

In 1999, the island’s historic center Chora, along with the Monastery of Saint John the Theologian and the Cave of the Apocalypse, were declared World Heritage Sites by UNESCO,  (source: Wikipedia)

Leaving our ship, we boarded tourist buses.  Our first destination was the Cave of the Apocalypse, the traditional site of the visions which John dictated to his scribe.  From the bus parking lot, our local guide lead us slightly uphill to the exterior of the entry to the stairwell which wound down to the cave.

Walkway leading to entry to stairs to cave, Patmos

 

Mosaic above entry to stairs to cave, Patmos

The descent was steep, winding, and challenging.  We were greeted at the cave with the caution that photos within the cave were not allowed; thus, the experience was limited to absorbing the relative smallness, darkness, and yes, holiness of the place.  Icons, incense, and soft murmurings overlaid the age of the place and its significance to late first century Christianity.  Crowded as it was, it was difficult to simply sit and absorb the depth of the place.  Few lingered as they would have wanted.

As we ascended, we passed the shop (part and parcel to any of the religious shrines or ancient locations we were to experience!)  A number of articles were sold.

The Monastery of St. John

Reboarding our bus, we climbed to the Monastery of St. John, a massive structure overseeing the greater part of this part of the island.  Nestled just beneath its walls are apartments and villas (our guide pointed out the rich and famous who just this year made this place a quiet haven). 

The pictures below better speak of the wonder of this place than a the plethora of words I could craft.

Beneath the walls of the Monastery of St. John, main entry

 

Mosaic triptych, just inside main entry, Monastery of St. John

 

Interior Courtyard open to visitors, Monastery of St. John

 

Bell towers of the Monastery of St. John

 

Graceful arches, Monastery of St. John

 

 

Rough hewn stone foundational to the Monastery of St. John

 

 

Windmills, seen from the parapets of the Monastery of St. John

 

The museum, an integral part of the monastery’s heritage, was filled with centuries old artifacts — from illuminated texts, Orthodox bishop’s mitres and rings, icons, and objects of art.  Again, no photos were allowed (leading me to purchase a book — they won!)

Wide-eyed, we witnessed the skill of our bus driver in negotiating a breathtaking u-turn (how many Hail Mary’s were muttered for those few moments I cannot say).  We descended to the port, returning to our ship that we might continue on to our next port-of-call, Kusadasi, Turkey, for an afternoon at the House of Mary and the ancient ruins of Ephesus.

 

 

 

 

 

Mykonos

The town, the harbor, Mykonos

Our sailing from Istanbul returned us through the Dardanelles to the Aegean, heading for our first stop in the Cyclades. 

The Island of Mykonos was our destination.  As advertised in the daily shipboard newsletter, Mykonos is dry, rugged, and one of the smallest of the Cyclades.  As the daily newsletter continued, “An ancient myth tells us that rocks strewn across its barren landscape are the solidified remains of the giant slain by Hercules”.  The port town, also named Mykonos, is gateway to sandy beaches and a main shopping area dotted by trendy bars and restaurants, favorites of the tourists who seem to flock here. 

One of the defining features of the town is the white washed, cubic houses with sky-blue trim and doors.  The island has about 365 chapels (Orthodox), also white with the blue trim, doors and some domes.  Most of these chapels are memorials; the raising of such memorials predates the Orthodox Church to a time when the Greeks would raise temples or memorials on the peaks of hills and mountains in honor of the Gods (see the Athens and Corinth entries for explanation of “acropolis”).

Enough background, though.  Our ship arrived mid Monday afternoon, coming alongside the ample docking pier of the harbor.  Father Eugene Hensell, along with many other aboard, road a tourist bus, for the short, circuitous ride along the shore road to a somewhat plain, unfinished welcome center for tourists.  Since this was our first “you are on your own” excursion of our cruise (both of us were first-time cruisers!), we set off knowing little to nothing.  We had no map, no guide; we just wanted to look through the shopping area, get a bit of a notion of the island, and return to the ship.  Simple, right?

The trek begins on the narrow streets of Mykonos, Fr. Eugene -- in red -- leading the way.

 

Simple became a hike, a walking adventure of 3 hours duration.  We traversed up the narrow roads to great heights, passing along the way chapel and windmill.

One of 365 Chapels on the island

 

 

Windmill, characteristic of the Cyclades

Upward, ever upward, to a short plateau and a brief descent before we deciding to turn back.  Any shopping yet?  No , just a respite for gelato (boy, was it good; and was it hot on the road!)  Continuing on and yet hopeful, we chose a slightly different route of return.  We passed above the embarkation bus facility, wending with eyes upon the harbor to our left and the rising hills of the island to our right.  Coming to a crossroad which could have taken us to the Church of St. Andrew, our ship, or maybe toward the shopping area (hope is eternal), we chose the third and climbed — again — toward regions unknown yet similarly rocky with white-washed structures with blue trim, and littered with chapels (at one point 4 within about 2 acres!), finally coming to a very familiar intersection with a Greek version of a round-about!  

 

Round-about, Mykonos

Well, this juncture afforded us a good chuckle.  We about-faced, retraced our steps, and once at the crossroads, chose the narrow route to our ship (a narrow road large enough for a tourist bus and ourselves, or said bus and a very small car — think SmartCar — or a very small car and us — just not all three)! 

Surviving the narrow road, the heat, the miles uphill and down we trod, the sight of the Cristal was most welcome.  

We later learned that we missed shops to be found on other islands (no loss as far as two male clerics were concerned), a full Orthodox Church and a Chapel both open and which members of our larger group declared beautiful, and an early return!   But our gains were tremendous — we spent only 8 euro on gelato, carried with us a certain pleasure of having persevered our long trek, and shared conversation of life, ministry, and questions which both interest and challenge us! 

Oh, yes — and sore feet, tired legs, and hardy appetites for the evening’s meal!   

The town above the harbor, Mykonos

 

A Chapel on the heights, Mykonos

Istanbul

In the night we journeyed to Istanbul.  Lulled to sleep by the engine vibrations and the stellar dinner, most of us slept very well.  Some early risers climbed from our comfortable berths before 6:30am (7 hours ahead of Eastern Standard time) to witness our passing through the Dardanelles, a very narrow, 18 mile sea-lane.  To the port side three World War I memorials loomed on the shore, the most famous being Gallipoli.  By 9:00am we had passed into the Sea of Marmara.

Entering the Port of Istanbul

Later in the afternoon Istanbul began to appear over the horizon.  Like Athens, it is a vast city (11 million) climbing from the sea to the hilly (mountains) on both the European and Asian continents.  The passage between is the Bosphorus, connecting the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara.  It is here that ancients built a city; the Emperor Constantine made it the eastern capital of the Empire (New Rome); later it was called Byzantium; and finally Istanbul after the Ottoman’s conquered it in 1453. 

 The view from the upper decks was mesmerizing.  Amidst the sprawl of the city crammed upon the hills overlooking the ancient harbor could be easily seen the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, and the Topkapi Palace – the focus of our excursion on the morrow.  For now, we enjoyed the sights, the docking, and for some, a short evening excursion to the largest covered bazaar in the world (closed on Sunday; thus the need for late afternoon shopping!)  I enjoyed our evening dinner, followed by evening Mass in a conference room on Deck 8 (part of our pilgrimage, presided over by Father Eugene, our spiritual guide and speaker throughout the pilgrimage; more on this later in a separate entry).  

 Leaving the now more than warm conference room, I wended my way below to a comfortable seat aft on Deck 5 in the Caruso bar.  (Each night this place became for me and others of our group the “ending” of the day, whether in port or at sea.  The staff, especially the waiter, Nythen, was most gracious and shared willingly their origins; Nythen, for one, from India, 26 years old, a college major in Hotel and Hospitality, who admitted he had his dream job!)

Buildings on the harbor, Istanbul

 Open to the sky and sea, with a marvelous view of the city lit and noisily alive, this aerie aft brought to the senses air very fresh (the lack of the port or sea odor was a surprise), strong breeze, and the sight of a ¾ moon and one very bright star hanging the sky over the city.  Asia lay to the left (port), Europe to the right (starboard).  Here lay the juncture not only of two continents, but of Christianity (as a minority) and Islam living side-by-side in a modern (1923) secular state.  Minarets and mosques, well-lit and prominent, sat amidst apartment homes aglow overlooking the port aglow on this evening before a quiet Sunday. 

 The port bustled with activity, even though it was 10:00pm, with ferries and excursion boats plying the mild waves and often accompanied by Turkish music aboard.  Nearby other cruise ships lay berthed, their lights gleaming off their white hulls and pristine decks.  In the distance a suspension bridge binding the two continental halves of the city became every fifteen minutes a cascade of varied colors and patterns, the lights ascending, descending, and forming waves to delight the eye.

Bridge connecting two continents, light show

Sunday was our first debarkation; ship to bus was a short walk.  Our guide immediately proved to be quite good.  Turkish born, she was very fluent in English, having lived in the United States during her high school years with her family (her father was Turkish military).  She gave us some helpful facts about Turkey: it is just slightly larger than Texas (the Texans won’t like that comparison!), has a population of 85 million of which 38% involved in agriculture.  11% of the GDP comes from agriculture, 32% from banking, tourism and other service industries, and 20% from industry (high quality products with low labor costs for textiles and such corporations as Mercedes-Benz – their tour busses are all built in Turkey). Finally, she told us that currently petrol (gasoline) is $11.00 / gallon, the highest in all of Europe!  

She guided us to the three major sites and a wonderful Turkish meal at a pre-arranged restaurant.  It was a very long day!

The Blue Mosque

The Blue Mosque: This mosque was built in the 16^th Century (1550 – 1556)  by Suleiman I.  It sits on a knoll just above Golden Horn, the ancient major port area.  It is the largest Mosque (one of 3,000!) in Istanbul, and became the model for all future mosques.  There are six minarets.  On the exterior wall of the mosque are covered areas with faucets for ritual cleansing (for worshippers only).  When we entered, we did so with our shoes in hand (the custom for anyone to enter a mosque).  The tile work upon the walls was intricate, the carpet in the worship area spread before us (vacuumed constantly so that it is always clean), the space vast with the dome above held up by four massive, solid stone pillars.  Outside the courtyards were simple, with a large number of sycamores, some very old, soaring above (a surprising link for me to the Wabash Valley!)  And we encountered cats and dogs of Istanbul, fed and protected by the government.  (Really!  and this has nothing to do with religion in this secular state, but is a means of animal control —spay, neuter, allow to roam for their lives, and very different for other countries who put down unwanted animals!)   

Garden area outside Blue Mosque

 

Sleeping Turkish Cat, Blue Mosque

 

Main Dome, Blue Mosque

 

Support Column, Blue Mosque (note intricate tilework)

 

Prayer carpet -- patterns separate worshippers row by row and side to side

 

Social Courtyard, Blue Mosque

Having been overwhelmed by the Blue Mosque, we walked the short distance to Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom), first a Christian Basilica (Justinian, 7^th Century), then a mosque after 1453, and now a museum of antiquities.  This structure, revered among the Orthodox and other Christians, gave rise to the style of the Blue Mosque. 

Hagia Sophia

Its main entry is fronted by flying buttresses (needed in medieval times to add more support for the massive dome).  There are three imposing interior doorways from the narthex — the central door originally for the Emperor and his family, the two smaller for the clergy; yet smaller doors to the right and left of this trinity were for the laity.  The main sanctuary is massive, with both Christian art (once whitewashed by the Muslims and now allowed to be seen) and Muslim art (especially in the form of great shields on the supporting pillars).  Among the many pieces which are outstanding, I will mention only three (see photos below): a mosaic of St. John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople; angels upon the main pillars (until a year ago, all thought to have not face, but now the face of one has been revealed through a process of delicate restoration); and the mosaic in the vesting room of the royal family depicting Mary with child.

 

Main entry to Hagia Sophia, wth buttresses (12th/13th Century)

 

Main doors, Hagia Sophia (interior looking to narthex)

 

Main Dome, Haggia SophiaShield from time Hagia Sophia was a mosque

To Athens and Beyond

14 September: Gradually, all on the pilgrimage “In the Footsteps of Paul” assembled at JFK airport on Long Island.  Moving through British Airways lines was for some quick (the early arrivals); for the later others, snaking along, facing one another 7 times over.  No one moved rapidly through TSA security, but they were thorough – which is the way I like it.  Fathers Larry Richardt (my good friend) and Father Morris Boyd (North Carolina, and a friend of Father Larry’s) arrived safely, as did Steve and Sharon Richardt (Father Larry’s youngest brother and his wife).  Suzanne Yakimchick (former Chancellor of the Archdiocese) was a delight to see; we shared some time at dinner as more arrived.  Others known (Father Eugene Hensell, OSB, Brother Maurus Zoeller, OSB, Mary Margaret Lynch) and unknown gathered in and around our assigned gate.  There was an expectant excitement among us eager pilgrims who hailed from Indiana, North Carolina, Michigan, Missouri, Texas, Ohio, South Carolina, Kentucky, Florida, California, and Illinois. 

 Soon enough, I attempted a brief a nap.  But sleeplessness (how did this happened to the napper?) lead me to find the Starbucks (caramel macchiato), Brookstone (a gadget store for earplugs for Jackie and Mike), and when I realized I had not placed a contact case in my carry on, a futile search began for such a case – to no avail; thus I had contacts in for over 24 hours – didn’t lose either one, but ouch, with red-eye upon arrival in Athens. 

Our flight from JFK to Heathrow (London), full and cramped, took 6 hours.  I believe someone thinks Americans are getting smaller – for the seats in the rear of the plane ARE smaller!  My seat assignment was windowed – with a fellow from Britain (small and squirmy) and Brother Maurus, toward the aisle.  Sleeping was in fits and starts even with a neck pillow.  The little guy in the next seat flopped and jostled rather frequently; Brother Maurus slept on without disturbance.  Our in-flight meal (dinner) was good.  However, confined as I was by the slumbering row mates caused a very long wait for a trip to the lavatory! 

 Heathrow was a beautiful airport, our terminal very new.  I was able to share an interesting meal (British/American style breakfast) with two ladies: Kathryn (an Episcopal priest in New Harmony, IN) and her friend, Catina, from Berkeley, CA, (a retired teacher, especially of developmentally disabled, and a non-believer with many questions about religion, Catholicism, etc).

 Our 3 ½ hour wait (did we sign up for this?) ended with boarding another British Airways plane for the 3 hour flight to Athens.  This plane seemed more comfortable (could it have been the aisle seat?).  Even as we took off, sleep blissfully captured me, ending only when a quite palatable lunch trundled down the aisles in what the Brits call “trolleys”.

 Athen’s Airport would be recognizable to any of us in the USA, save for the signs in modern Greek!  Greek Immigration proved very easy, and thankfully all luggage arrived for the 37 on the plane from our group (the 38^th, Brother Josemaria Brownell, met us at Athens airport).  Lead by our Greek tour guide to our bus, we were greeted (some would say accosted) by a very friendly elderly post-card salesman – a loud man by our standards whose gratitude “Thank you for helping our economy!” enveloped the bus.   (There is irony here.  “Economy” is a Greek word, oikonomia – meaning the “running or organizing of a household”!  For Greece at this point in its history...)

Greece in distress! (Flag on the Acropolis)

 

 Our forty-five minute drive into Athens revealed a city of 5 million people spread over a vast area of the coast and inland (containing nearly 40% of the entire Greek population of 11 million!)  The areas nearest the airport were very new with modern structures, while the parts nearest the sea were older, a bit grimy, and a mix of the modern, post-World War and neo-classical architecture jumbled together.  Literally, we descended upon older Athens from the heights of the hills.  Our hotel, The Premier Classical, was a 5 star, very plush accommodation (and the beginning and ending for our journey) deep in older Athens, relatively near the port of Piraeus. 

 Supper was to be served within an hour – a kind interval allowing us the luxury of unpacking, a brief rest, and checking out the electric connections for hair dryers, laptops, etc.  Our meal was excellent and relaxed enough to allow each of us to meet more of the group.  Its aftermath was an early to bed for well-fed but tired travelers.

 An early rising lead to breakfast – what a variety of Greek cuisine with a touch of American and British breakfast items!  Our packed, porter retrieved luggage preceded us to the bus (thankfully), and then the official tour / pilgrimage began: the high points (literally) of Athens. 

 Members of our group immediately noted that the mountain-like hills looming above the coast reminded them of the San Gabriel Mountains in southern California (the mountainous area where M*A*S*H was filmed).  Below those hills were:

The Olympic Stadium (1896 restoration of original stadium)

 

1896, Olympic Stadium

Three buildings along the main street of the government center (you probably have seen on the news the parliament building on the news, fronted by demonstrators, over the last months!)

 

Parliament Building, Athens

Overlooking modern Athens was the Acropolis (“city on the height”), with the fabulous Parthenon (“place of the gods”), especially the Temple of Athena.

 

The Parthenon on the Acropolis, as seen from the Olympic Stadium

Alexandra, our tour guide, was a true Athenian — and a guide with many (maybe too many) historical facts to share with us!  At one point we were all itching to begin the feast of photography!

 

The Acropolis, at its base

 

View of Athens from hill adjacent to the Acropolis; note neo-classical structure in center

 

View from stairs of Acropolis

 

Roof structure just beyond main gate to Acropolis

 

Parthenon, as seen from first ruins entry, and under restoration / preservation

 

Parthenon, actual frontal view

 

Temple of Athena, Acropolis

 

 

Standing with Acropolis in background

When said feast was complete, we discovered we were 2 ladies short on the bus!  With the vastness of the Acropolis area (one of us went in search with no result), it seemed inevitable that they would have to find our ship on their own; but at the last-minute, they appeared – from being lost among the many paths!

 The “Lost” misadventure did not prevent us from arriving on time at the port, where we were parted from our larger luggage (to be portered to our rooms), our passports (for ease of Visa requirements with Turkey – a practice none of us had ever encountered; but it did prove an ideal arrangement).  We were then placed into lines for ticket verification, photo-id processing (our passenger card became our official embarkation / debarkation instrument and our “credit card” on board), and security!  It’s a good thing we were on time! 

MV Louis Cristal

 

 Our ship, the MV Louis Cristal, boasted 480 cabins, 10 decks, 400 crew members from 30 countries, and all that one needs for a “floating hotel / resort”, including evening entertainment (live shows).  Cristal proved a very clean and welcoming ship.  Most of us were on Deck 7, with the remainder on Deck 4 – some with staterooms with windows to the sea, others with interior rooms.  My room was interior, with two twin beds, a closet, and a bathroom.  It was just right (although I realized that my frugality got the better of me, as an exterior room would have given me natural light!  Who was I trying to impress at Lilly Endowment?) 

My Cabin, #7121

After unpacking everything into drawers and closet, I went exploring to get a sense of the ship.  This was soon interrupted by the required “lifeboat drill”.  Returning to our rooms, we retrieved our life-jackets and moved to our assembly areas (in my case “D”), on Deck 5 – the life-boat deck, don’t you know!  Having already discovered in my room how to don the vest, I was able to help Father Eugene and Monteen, members of our group, with theirs. 

 

Father Eugene, Ship-shape and ready!

 

Even as we were about this, we set sail!

 Supper was not until 6:30pm (first seating, as all our evening meals were to be), and so I explored internet connections and international cell-phone connection.  Neither worked!  Thus began a frustration which lasted 3 days (internet) and 15 days (phone).  A ship to shore phone call was needed to let staff know how to reach me!  A particular e-mail provider and a particular cell-phone provider will receive a communication when I return home about the failure of their service.

 Setting aside the frustration (shared by others), our group gathered for dinner in the Caruso Dining Room Deck 5), where we began our discovery of the excellent (and I do mean excellent!) food, and the attentive and prompt service provided throughout the cruise.  Our waiters were from India, Greece, Turkey, and other Balkan countries; all were able to clearly communicate and were ever gracious.

 The meal complete, a sense of peacefulness descended upon me, and sleep soon took me as we sailed for Istanbul, Turkey.

Demerits — something new

 

You may have thought the only demerits you ever met were the ones which kept you after school.  Let me disabuse you.

On a Sunday afternoon, having given praise and thanks to God, a five hour drive from Silver Spring to Port Washington, Long Island, NY, commenced.  By way of I-95 to the New Jersey Turnpike to I-95 once again, and then to I-678 – over the Goethals and Verrazano Bridges, thence to a series of freeways (including Long Island Freeway), and finally to surface streets (can you get the feeling I am thankful for GPS in my phone!), I arrived at Joe and Karen Demerit’s about 5:00pm. 

 My immediate impression: Long Island is so near yet so far removed from the starkness of Manhattan.  Trees abound, old and gracious.  The neighborhoods by and through which I passed were lavish, suburban, and older suburban (traditional).  A great attention to that which is green was very evident.  Joe and Karen’s home fit right in.  This mid-1950’s split-level is nestled in a quiet neighborhood 5 blocks from the main thoroughfare of the area.  The homes here are very well cared for, and as noted, the lawns are tended (often by lawn services – but Joe does his own to the delight of the other few neighbors who do the same; it helps that Joe once worked summers in a nursery, so I discovered).

 Joe warmly greeted me, as did Karen and the girls – Agnes, soon to be four (late October), a creative, talkative story-teller and play creator (not just games, but “acts”), who is in Pre-Kindergarten at St. Peter School (the family’s parish close by); and Bernadette, soon to be two (December), a verbal, energetic, volatile, loud, affectionate and eager child who pushes the envelope at times (and wakes her father up at very early hours – usually between 5:30 – 6:00am!)

 

Joe, holding Bernadette; Karen, with Agnes to the right

 

 Days in the Demerit household are kept as routine as possible, sensibly for the children.  Joe is a stay-at-home dad.  This man — whose mind is always engaged and questing, who loves learning and teaching and the urging of youth to grasp new concepts and life concerns — spends the majority of his day tending to the needs of his two daughters and many of the household chores.  For the time being he has set aside his teaching career and become a homemaker in concert with Karen. 

Karen works on Manhattan for American Express (near Ground Zero; the building was badly damaged on September 11, 2001).  She manages the travel website for this financial giant.  She is a very intelligent woman who enjoys a good laugh, smiles easily, and attends very lovingly to her daughters.  She relishes her time each morning and evening with the girls and Joe.  Monday through Thursday she takes the train, subway, and sidewalk to work.  Friday, she works at home.  At times, she endures the periodic intended and unintended comment which questions her being an adequate or present mother to her children (such as on the first day of school for Agnes: “Oh, here’s Dad, little sister, and…Agnes’ Mother!” )  It made me wonder how many other working mother’s endure such.

 Karen and Joe make a fine team, clear in their expectations of each other and the girls, solid in their values which they are imparting to their children, and obviously committed to each other.   Married in 2006 at St. Boniface on Long Island (Karen’s home), they found each other “later in life”, as it were, as two professionals (Joe, student, then teacher; Karen, employee).  Joe just turned 40!  Congratulations!  (I don’t remember Karen’s age; and if I did, I would not publish it here).

 Always very active folks, they lived in Brooklyn at first, where they participated in their parish, sang in The Oratorio Choir, and helped (when it was their turn) in the local cooperative grocery founded over 30 years ago.  Joe maintains friends from his life in Wisconsin (ironically, Port Washington!), his years at Culver Military Academy, at Dartmouth (where he played football and graduated), Notre Dame (where he and I met in 2000), Mercersburg Academy (where he taught), and more recent friends in Brooklyn and Long Island.  Karen maintains close ties with high school and college classmates, as well as those with whom she has worked and lived among on Long Island and Brooklyn. 

 Now that you know something about the Demerits, let me get to our time together.  In this entry, a few “moments” with the Demerit’s, not necessarily in chronological order, will give you a sense of what we did.

 First, we shared wonderful meals – Joe chose menus well, prepared a variety of foods (and all on time), and kept 2 children eating away even as he  was completing the portions for the adults.  One evening was especially instructive as Joe demonstrated how to cook pizza on the grill!  The girls helped him to roll out the dough (participative cooking with the girls may slow down the process, says Joe, but in the long run it’s easier than trying to prepare the food AND refereeing what is going on in the living room or den).

 Second, each day we took long walks in the morning – to the post office or just in the neighborhood for exercise and to assist a neighbor with her hose (her husband is one of those men who screws the nozzle so tightly to the hose it takes a man of brawn and a wrench to even try to remove it; we failed and ended up loaning her the Demerit hose).

 Third, there was attention to snack times and the quality of the snacks.  The family works hard to eat in a healthy manner, and the variety of fruits, yogurt, and periodic crackers evidence of this.  Bernadette seems to be perpetually hungry (especially when bored in the car: “Ungee!” erupts soon after leaving the house, even if a snack or meal has just been shared!)

 Fourth, both Joe and Karen worked with their children with a quiet but firm gentleness, guiding them to activities which lead to sharing and kindness (all parents know what this is like and what it takes!).  I witnessed them remaining calmly patient in the midst of tears and outbursts.

 Fifth, Joe took the girls and I for a couple of “tour rides” of the area – from local harbor, neighborhoods ordinary to lavish to exclusive, markets and malls.  The area independent food market specializes in fruits, vegetables and a wide variety of specialty items such as cheeses; there are “samples” scattered about the store – toothpick tubs (clean; used) next to the cubes of cheese or slices of fruit.  One could eat one’s way through the store, or dampen an appetite with ease (especially if they arrived at the store without a list, which many know leads to hunger-driven impulse buying!)

 Sixth, Joe showed me all the project around the house and in the yard which he and Karen (by themselves or through contractors) have accomplished in the 2 years since purchasing their home.  The transformation / updating of their home is startling, with much more to do (Joe showed me the master bathroom which at this point is studs and subfloor).  Outdoors, they have worked hard to trim and eliminate dying or house-threatening trees, work on drainage issues, and plant both flowers and vegetable gardens.  Joe is very knowledgeable about the gardens from his days of working at a nursery and his ability to learn from the internet – everyone’s personal library.  

It was a great gift to be allowed to immerse myself into this family’s life for three days.  Yes, gracious hospitality can be found in New York — a reality some would find curious considering New York’s reputation for being a place of steel, granite, glass, limestone and bedrock, with folk always in a hurry, heads down against the winds of urban life.  God has graced me with friends close to home and far away; providence dictates that the gift be taken up and re-examined lest the gift seem diminish from lack of appreciation and gracious thanks. 

 Joe and Karen, Agnes and Bernadette – thank you very much for your friendship and your kindness.  May God continue to bless you as you grow into an ever-evident revelation of God’s love.

A flower beautiful and large (kin to a peony)Bernadette in her adirondack

The Cap-itol

Rain, rain, go away!  Come again some other day!

So goes the song.  So went the drive to the nation’s capitol on Wednesday, September 7.  The goal: Harry and Pat Dudley’s home.  The actual destination: the Archdiocese of Washington Administrative Pastoral Center.  The route: mostly I-95 once through eastern Pennsylvania.  The challenge: the rain, overcast, and the traffic stoppages of Baltimore (goodness!) and on the surface streets of the District of Columbia (oh my!).  

At the Pastoral Center, the receptionist (John) warmly welcomed me and let Harry know I had arrived.  Warm embraces soon followed, and then began a circuitous route to Catholic University of America (CUA) to gather up Pat (executive assistant to the Dean of the School of Architecture).  In the midst of the bustling campus — students, staff and faculty flowing more from than to at this hour — Pat stepped from curb to car, and the circuit to Silver Spring (home) continued.  Note: Harry and Pat seldom traverse the typically traveled roads, the 6 lane arteries whose flow is more clogged than not.  Instead, they smoothly meander routes (alternates abound) which bring them home far more relaxed than would otherwise be.  As for me, thankfully Harry uses his turn signals!

Welcome to our home

Harry and Pat’s home is a lovely, comfortable 3 bedroom condominium.  Upon entry, fellow residents Cedric and Tidbit greeted us.  Cedric’s welcome is more a feline reserve; Tidbit’s welcome resembles a berserker of “pet me, pet me”.  Even the presence of a guest minimally diminished the salutation. 

Lord Cedric

Lady Tidbit

As I settled in, Pat tended to preparing a delicious supper, with Harry’s assistance.  A cocktail was provided (Maker’s Mark on the rocks); this cordial gift revealed that the supply was now exhausted, so a plan to remedy this was made for after dinner.  Our time over dinner was spent in catching up and just enjoying being together once again.  

As Harry and I drove to the local hooch house, we reminisced of our first meeting and time together in Indianapolis.  Harry arrived from Lafayette, Indiana, to serve as the lead religious educator (non-school) for the Archdiocese.  While his family remained north (eventually a home was purchased on the northwest side and the family resumed common residence), Harry lived at the Cathedral rectory, my residence and responsibility.  Throughout the weekday evenings he was present, Harry and I often encountered each other through or after dinner.  Wednesday evenings became a special time at 9:00pm when, all meetings and planning complete, we would sit down to enjoy “The West Wing” and a cocktail or two. 

Once returned, Manhattans were mixed, and when Pat departed to an early to bed (long day at the office!), Harry brought out the DVD box of the first season of — yes — “The West Wing“!  A quick review of episodes gave over one of particular delight, “Lord John Marbury“.  We reveled anew in the dialogue, characters and excellent plot creating — enjoying as well our Manhattans!  Alas, but one episode was enough to send us on our separate ways to our rooms, for rest was needed for the ‘morrow.

It’s early to rise for the Dudleys each day.  They departed at 8:00am, leaving me to my own devices until the evening.  There was blogging to do, reading, and errands (Best Buy is nestled among some trees across the street from the entrance to their complex; I needed a thumb drive of many gigabytes to back up my laptop before I travel overseas). 

Msgr. Ron Jameson

Before 11:00am I was able to contact Msgr. Ron Jameson, the rector of St. Matthew Cathedral in Washington, DC, to plan a visit with him for the middle of the day.  A five-block walk lead to the Metro, some fumbling to get a day pass, and then train sped me to Farragut North station in the middle of DC.  From there, a short walk lead to St. Matthew (use of my phone’s GPS was very helpful — remember about men and asking directions?)  A warm greeting by the receptionist was soon followed by Ron happy welcome.  He took me to the dining area to meet the two other resident priests at St. Matthew; from there to the kitchen where the cook had prepared for us a wonderfully healthy chicken and lettuce salad with a side of grapes and a glass of tea.  We thanked her, and then went upstairs to Ron’s office.  There we sat at a very comfortable conference table, eating well while we shared our personal stories of ministry since 2006 (the last time we had been together at a Cathedral Ministry Conference, an organization upon whose board we served as rectors of cathedrals).  Our two hours were too soon complete; happily Ron had enough time to show me the recently restored cathedral church.  And then we departed, he for Bethesda, MD, and I for Silver Springs.

St. Matthew Cathedral, looking toward sanctuary

Upon return home, tasks awaited, including the petting and rubbing of the resident cats and, of course, a brief nap.  Into this slumbering the human residents returned.  We set out for dinner at a local Greek restaurant; the food was good, the company the best.  It was somewhat of a precursor to Greece.  Once home, the evening unwound with more lively conversation and eventual retirement.

Friday morning broke with yet another cloudy day (remember Stroudsburg?  The theme continues — rain, grey, damp).  This day Harry didn’t need to go in to the office until the afternoon staff meeting; and so he and I took Pat to CUA — first for a photo of us together before the basilica, second for Pat to begin work, and third for Harry and I to enjoy the Starbucks on campus and continue sharing with each other our lives and our ministries.  We didn’t solve the Church’s challenges, but we named a few!

Fr. Rick, Harry and Pat Dudley

Even as the rain came down, we drove from CUA to the Franciscan Monastery of the Holy Land in America.  This monastery was established to bring to the fore the need of supporting the holy sites in Jerusalem, Bethlehem, etc., and provides replicas of each site for those who cannot travel abroad (much like the introduction of the Stations of the Cross in churches after the Crusades).  The rains deterred a full exploration of the massive gardens, but what we saw was well done.

Garden before the Monastery Church

Side Altar of the Ascension

We were drenched getting back the car, and chose to return home for a simple lunch.  Harry soon departed for work, and I returned to reading, a short nap, and completion of a blog entry.  In the midst of the latter, that large yellow orb pierced the clouds, revealing blue sky!  The six-day drought of sun was ended!

When Pat and Harry returned from a social event of the School of Architecture, we went to a local pizzeria which boasted its “Chicago Style” vegetarian pizza!  How ironic — to come so far to be culinarily so close to home!  Sated by a fine repast, we ventured home.

Saturday dawned with the sun showing its lovely face.  Pat ventured to her hair specialist while Harry and I putzed about.  Upon her return, we embarked shopping at the local mall, then to Columbia to another mall, followed by Harry and I leaving Pat happily skulking the JoAnn Fabric store while we went to an unusual book emporium, Daedalus.  We found many a worthy book to buy, but settled upon a few!  Retrieving Pat (after a stop at Big Lots), we headed back to Silver Spring for a quick freshening. 

Our next destination was the home of Harry and Pat’s long-time friends, Richard and Leanne Doerflinger.  (Richard works for the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops in the Pro-Life Office; he is internationally known for his 31 years in promoting life with and through the USCCB.  If you wish to see a sample of his work, and commentary upon it, just Google his name).  We were received by the family (Richard’s mother, Edith; their daughter, Anna and her daughter, Leah, and the three resident dogs – a golden retriever of great enthusiasm for guests, a pug mixed breed and a chihuahua — the latter two smaller specimens no less excited to greet us!)  Such a wonderful family whose lives have been crisscrossed by great joy (four children, a granddaughter, great love and strong, admiring friends) and sorrow (older son, Thomas, 20, was killed in Iraq).  Sitting at their dining room table, the conversation was quickly joined by all.  There was a relaxed courtesy which bespoke the recognized dignity of each one there, and each was welcomed to voice ideas, opinions, and life tales.  The dinner was a fine stew with rice, accompanied by wine and water, and completed with ice cream.  The sun was fast fading (yes, that orb was still around!) as time for leave-taking came upon us.  With a promise of “we’ll see you tomorrow at church”, we departed.

Home found us not yet ready to sleep.  Pat sat down to enjoy some A & E; Harry and I retreated to the balcony with drinks in hand and a Maker’s Mark cigar (a very unusual pleasure for me, who quit smoking any tobacco products in 1981; only two other times, in 2005 and 2006, have I been so pleasured).  Our words between sips and puffs quickly became focused upon those parts of our lives when we were each discerning our vocations.  These moments were true gift, for the similarities and differences of journey mortered our bond of friendship and faith. 

Cigars don’t last; Manhattans are exhausted; 60-something fellows must, as well, end the day.  And so we did.

Sunday called me forth from bed earlier than others.  It was sorting, finding and packing time.  The electronics had to be gathered and properly encased.  The clothes placed in suitcase or hung.  And the reverend properly scrubbed and tubbed for church and travel.

Regretfully, Pat could not accompany Harry and I to St. John the Baptist Church, as her left knee was unwittingly aggravated by the lengthy shopping spree (and she didn’t buy that much, really!)  Adieu’s for Pat, Cedric and Tidbit and promise of return visit and possible citing in Indy in October for their son, Martin’s, wedding lead to the inevitable loading of the rental car.  

Directly we retraced one of the many circuitous routings and arrived at church well before its start.  The liturgy was prayerful, included a good homily on forgiveness from the heart, and a first holy eucharist of a young lady of Indian heritage.  We were joined at Mass by Richard and Leanne (his mother was not feeling well enough to come).  The closing song helped to escort us from the church to meet the pastor, a French Canadian who serves in the Archdiocese, who was in conversation with Richard.  A brief but jovial welcome by the pastor was concluded with leave-taking of Richard and Leanne; Harry and I walked to the cars, he to rejoin Pat at home, me to begin the journey north and — yes — East to Long Island.  For both Harry and I it was somewhat bittersweet — too little time for good friends, wonderful moments of reconnecting.  But the parting is a promise of a beginning a connection through Facebook; which, happily, has begun!  God is good!

The Gap and the Cap

The Delaware Gap

For 40 miles the Middle Delaware River passes between low forested mountains with barely a house in sight. Then the river cuts through the mountain ridge to form the famed “Water Gap.”  The Delaware Water Gap is on the border of New Jersey and Pennsylvania where the Delaware River cuts through a large ridge of the Appalachian Mountains.  Exiting the park, the river runs 200 miles more to Delaware Bay at Wilmington, Delaware, and then to the Atlantic Ocean.  It is just north (5 miles) and above the Delaware Gap that the town of Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, is situated.  This rather small city of 6,600 is my next destination for “East is East…”  (Note: Much of the text above is taken from the websites of the Delaware Gap National Recreation Area, U.S. Parks Service, and Wikipedia).

Courthouse, Stroudsburg, PA

Sunday’s journey was — wet!  Overcast and rain accompanied the 8 plus hours (in fact, the sun did not shine at all during my stay here, much to the chagrin and disappointment of my hosts).   This weather pattern was the moisture laden leavings of tropical storm Lee, which crept up the Mississippi Valley and the East Coast (and remained a presence until late Friday afternoon — but that’s a story for the next entry).

Besides the soggy atmosphere, the journey east from Columbus, Ohio, brought two unexpected encounters.  The first I will call the “gas cap adventure”.   Have you ever rented a car?  If so, this may be a shared (BT/DT) experience (being blonde is not required).  Preparing to remove myself to deposit gallons of fuel in the cars’ tank, I began to search for the interior “latch” to release access to the gas cap.  You know, many cars today restrict exterior access to said cap, lest some folks of a felonious nature drain the fuel for their personal use.  Well, I assumed my carriage had such a device.  I searched high and low, probing and poking the entire dash area — including the glove compartment — for a good 5 minutes.  I pulled the trunk lever in the opposite direction (as in my Honda); no go.  I found a lever under the dash — opening the hood!  The driver’s seat gave not up the secret.  flummoxed, I exited the car, looking around to see if anyone had noticed my prolonged search (goodness, I really hoped they were too busy!)  Re-entering the car I retraced probings, pokings, and lever pullings.  NOTHING!  Abandoning the effort, I stood looking at the seemingly resistive exterior lid and I asked myself: “If I was man enough, I’d go ask someone if they knew the secret.  (Alas, I was not man enough to do that!).  Finally, in mild frustration I ran my index finger across the lid.  It opened.  Yes, it simply needed to be touched on the edge closer to the passenger compartment to pivot open!  Now, why didn’t the manufacture place a slight lip for one pry the lid open (like the cars of yesteryear — have I grown this old?  Oh, right; aero-dynamic drag, we can’t have that!)  chastened and truly humbled, I pumped the gas and drove slowly away.

The second encounter will take fewer words, really!  At a rest-stop on the way were Boy Scouts and their leaders offering coffee, soft-drinks, hot dogs (“Would you like kraut with your dog, sir”?), and chips — all for a donation to keep Labor Day weekend travelers awake and comforted.  Well, let me tell you, that hot-dog (sans kraut) tasted really good!  Here’s to the Boy Scouts of the Gettysburg Council!

It was after 5:30pm when my GPS assured me that I had arrived at the right house.  Ascending the stone steps to the front door, I found warm greeting from Bernadette, with her two daughters eagerly, but reservedly, waiting in the background.  Jeff, husband and father, rose to greet me as well upon my entering.  As is house custom, shoes were set aside (allergy issues), and our visit began in earnest. 

The evening was consumed in catching-up on our respective lives (we met at SS. Peer and Paul Cathedral when I was pastor there; Bernadette was confirmed, they were married, and as the children arrived into this world they asked me to baptize them).  Supper was prepared by the girls and Bernadette in their spacious kitchen.  (The girls are young enthusiasts of the good network, gradually honing their knowledge and skills).  Crispin is 9, almost 10, in the 4^th grade at Notre Dame School.  She is bright, inquisitive, focused like her mother, reserved but willing to engage.  (She loaned me her bedroom for my stay — Thanks, Crispin!)  Sophie is 6 and in the 1^st grade.  She too is bright and inquisitive, full of fun and mischief, energetic, and athletic.  She is very serious / focused when she is reading, a skill she pursues with her attentive mother.  

Bernadette (rear), Sophie and Crispin (l to r)

Jeff, meanwhile, was reading letters penned by a US Army Lieutenant to his sister during the Mexican – American War of 1847 (this Lieutenant would go on to be a storied General during the Civil War). A doctoral candidate in History, teaching some classes even as he pursues his degree, Jeff is an intelligent, analytical fellow whose passion is history.  In fact, history is his first “filter” for understanding.  While we were together over the three days, he and I enjoyed sharing that “filter” (my college degree is in history), discussing community service (Jeff is an elected member of the Stroudsburg town council), his Lutheran faith (Martin Luther, his local church community, the decline of religion in America), particular Roman Catholic beliefs and practices (e.g. indulgences — a historical stumbling block between Roman Catholics and Lutherans), and the relation of religion to politics and values. 

Our meal was delicious and was followed by some family time watching television.  Bed-time arrived for the girls — and for me.  Bernadette, too, is an early to bed person; Jeff can be somewhat of a night owl – quiet encourages intensive reading time.

Labor Day began (and ended) overcast and rainy.  After breakfast, we (Bernadette and Crispin, the older daughter and I) set off for a tour through the historic Stroudsburg area.  We visited St. Matthew and St. Luke Catholic Churches, Notre Dame School (K -12), walked up hill to the Appalachian trail, took in the historic site of a fort from the French and Indian War ear, and stopped for coffee and treats at the Dunkin Donuts coffee.

Stained Glass, St. Matthew Church

Appalachian Trail, Stroudsburg, PA

Bernadette proved to be a good guide.  She is one who is attentive to the needs of those around her (especially friends and guests).   When not acting as Director of Library & Information Access at Sanofi Pasteur, a French-based corporation, she is focused upon her family — Jeff and his hopes, the girls and their growth in knowledge, wisdom and faith, and her extended family (4 siblings, mother and father).  She is very dedicated to her parish of St. Luke, and the girls’ school, for which both she and Jeff volunteer on a regular basis. 

Sadly the Labor Day picnic to be celebrated at the Labor Day park (a community garden effort of which the Ewen family are an active part) was cancelled.  This gave us over to a day.  Good reading, Scooby Doo, blogging and requisite naps (for some) ensued.  The lazy day was capped off with a good meal which the girls once again helped prepare.  The evening included an episode of “Billy the Exterminator”, an A & E show about the adventures of a Louisiana pest exterminator — now there’s some TV watching!

Indian Face, Delaware Gap

Tuesday came too early for us all.  By 7:15am Bernadette left for work, taking the girls to the school bus stop on the way.  Jeff worked at home on a stubborn computer problem concerning backups.  I read and wrote.  After a handyman came by, Jeff and I explored the Delaware Gap in the rain (quite a sight; I forgot my camera; the picture above and to the left are “borrowed”). 

 

 

Exploration complete, we picked up the girls from the bus next to the Labor Day Park, and then “home” brought the girls to their homework, Jeff to his stubborn computer, and I to a nap.  We met Bernadette at Ruby Tuesday for supper, which included a number of passes at the salad bar (healthy and yummy).  We enjoyed a quiet evening preparing for school (spelling) and work (downloading apps; actually, I witnessed that all members of this family have skills at electronic devices which amazed me!)  The evening TV entertainment was a show where contestants go through mazes of moving obstacles over water — it’s mindless, yet somewhat amusing.

All good things find an end.  Wednesday morning brought us goodbyes and promises of future time together (Bernadette, Crispin and Sophie).  The gathering of all belongings, packing, showering, and trudging lead me (with Jeff’s help) to the rental car (whose gas cap is no longer a mystery) and the final goodbye.  The last I saw of Jeff he was retrieving the garbage cans as I drove into the East — well, south, if truth be told, toward Silverspring, MD. 

Historic Marker outside of house in which Benjamin Franklin is said to have slept (below).

East is still East!

Columbus is the capital of Ohio (oh, that’s a great beginning — for a social studies lesson!)  It sits squarely in the center of the state, not unlike Indianapolis.  Both are “artificial cities”, designed and constructed to be state capitals.

The drive to Columbus on Thursday proved to be uneventful; it’s no more than 3 1/2 hours.  It was very good to pull up to 1395 Candlewood Drive!  It’s been too long since last setting eye upon and foot within this warmly welcoming home of John and Valerie Wilson.

John and Valerie

We met in Richmond, Indiana, when I was pastor of St. Mary.  At the time they had two daughters: Sarah in middle school, and Emily in elementary school.  Over the years, both daughters have married fine young men (Brian and Kenton, respectively) and happily brought to life three children (Moira and Fiona; and Gaby).  Moira and Gaby are nearing 5; Fiona is 2 3/4 (just ask her!)

John works for a company which builds and sells smaller appliances (e.g., microwaves and refrigerators) for such customers as universities and hotels.  Valerie is in public relations, currently working for Columbus State University.  Both are graduates of Ohio State University; it was here that their romance began.

Arriving later in the afternoon gave the three of us time to embrace, unload, and sit down to relax and catch up on our lives.  With three grandchildren, good but involved jobs, and friends of long-standing, there was much to tell on their part.  They have met most of my family, so they were regaled with tales of the Ginthers and of my life in Terre Haute. 

There is a third resident, Buddy, the energetic, playful and cute “droodle” (part dachshund, part poodle).  He is the official, highly excitable greeter who, once his job is tended, lies down on the floor wherever he can, and promptly falls into a restful preparedness — for the next frenetic event!

The calm before the storm. Do NOT think that you will keep this pull rope from this dog!

Dinner was scrumptious — as are all meals over which Valerie presides in her well-appointed kitchen (her father is from Syria; her mother was a nurse who enjoyed cooking; thus, Valerie is not at all shy with spices or new recipes espied in magazine, book, or food channel).

The evening was brief, as we all had lived a full day.  We made plans for the morrow, and I found the bed.

Friday morning was not too early for us.  A simple breakfast lead John to his office downstairs (he works from home), and Valerie and I to the Verizon store (either to get my phone international ready, or upgrade my phone with the same readiness.   I am sure you know which happened: a new phone, more features than anyone should be able to use, a renewed contract, and yes, the one feature I was looking for!) 

Back home, we jumped into John’s car for a journey through Columbus to the Germantown area just south of the downtown.  Our purpose was to explore the area and eat some genuine German food.

Schmitt's was our first choice for lunch. It was way too crowded. So we had some fun outside Schmitt's before we headed down the street! Valerie and John in Deutsche garb!

We walked back the way we came to a corner bar with long history and decent food.  It was good to escape the heat!

Our second choice

Lunch!

A saunter across to a gift shop lead to some fun purchases, and then it was back across Columbus to one of THE destinations in Ohio: Graeter’s Ice Cream Parlor.  This taste delight originates in Cincinnati; I was first introduced while a student at Mount St. Mary’s Seminary.  Whether in Cincinnati or Columbus, they still make some of the BEST chocolate chip (LARGE CHUNKS, not chips, really) in the world.

Enjoying the fare of Graeter's

Calorically sated, we journeyed back home to await the arrival of Sarah and her two daughters, Moira and Fiona, later in the evening.   The adult calm gave way to the wonder of glee and tears — concurrent phenomena with young children, it seems!  Overjoyed to see Grandma and Grandpa, still they struggled to encounter this tall, blonde stranger (to them).  Their mother, Sarah, did a fine job in bringing them a sense of safety and perspective, and quickly it was a snack and to bed.  The latter direction worked on me, too. 

Saturday dawned bright and hot.  After a wonderful breakfast, John and I departed for the Ohio State University campus.  It’s football season, don’t you know!  The first game of the season for a team decimated by loss of the coach (fired) and players (gone to draft, or on 5 game suspensions); the anticipation centered upon the unknown.

OSU Campus is large, engulfing a very large area of Columbus.  We arrived by local COTA bus (easier than driving!), walked through the library (impressive structure and much cooler than outside!), and from there to the stadium.  The requisite tourist picture was taken (note the appropriate attire!), and then we entered the stadium.

Beneath the "closed end" entry to OSU Stadium

The forty-five minutes of pre-game was filled mostly with the band, and then bands (over 700 alumni band members)!   The pictures below can’t bring you the music, but the sights do play a tune of their own.

The Bands

Script OHIO at halftime

We left during the third quarter with the score 28-0.  Even without eight  of their first-stringers, John’s team was more than a match for Akron University.  The bus ride back gave us time to recall the game, relish (?) the $4 bottles of water, and enjoy a festive atmosphere (we passed up Graeter’s to our dismay.)

The children had a wonderful afternoon (20 minutes at the park; too hot for more!), and when John and I arrived one was fast asleep, the other playing contentedly.  Valerie and I prepared for church at St. Peter’s, where after Mass we went to visit with the senior high youth minister, Bill Cunningham, (a classmate from seminary days at St. Meinrad). 

Our praise and thanks to God continued over another delicious meal.  Conversation was accented by the delight of watching Fiona (2 3/4) eat (she has a large capacity for food, handles a fork and spoon with an alacrity next to amazing, and enjoys what is placed before her).

Fiona happily at work

Her older sister, Moira, though somewhat shyer, is a delightful young girl.  She doesn’t enjoy too much attention, especially from stranger blonde guys; but she is the first to give hug to say goodnight or goodbye.

Sarah and Moira

The dishes were tended; the children urged to bed; and I found myself relaxing in the family room. 

Father hard at work?

When I awoke, Sarah, John and Valerie were all reading!  There was a general chuckle, and a shared insight: the chair into which I had nesteld was noted for lulling its unsuspecting occupants to sleep.  It worked!  Some further conversation lead to an early evening.

After a night of thunderstorms and hail, we all awoke to an overcast Sunday.  Some scrubbing and tubbing, sorting and packing, and I was ready to head out — East!  A simple breakfast, hugs (thank you, Moira and Fiona), and promises of future times together (Sarah, Valerie and John), the eight hour drive to Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, commenced.