tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8870730199722900632024-03-05T23:33:02.243-05:00whiskey bowlingWhiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.comBlogger268125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-33859129532372086602014-12-01T22:27:00.001-05:002019-02-11T09:51:12.760-05:00After Photos and Almost a year of living in the forest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyP8SWbfMhCxmc9h9BZ4t_md-w1MJl0u5gRl87uqtotr2dqMXSnKSSn0OpM2zJ5OddqrXKhqMFqLrM6oQhOO9bzASVySDLE-kugNicfOS-lPdMBCO3rF6IAWeiYqEX_FiojzXFvOrQOHd/s1600/IMG_5145.JPG" width="320" /></div>
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Our bedroom with bed extended by Jameson. LED rope light and bean bag chair</div>
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Altar in the main living space</div>
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View of bookshelf and front door leading to porch</div>
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Art hung</div>
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Our first dining area. Later we moved it closer to the house to help control the bugs.</div>
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Front porch. The Place of many hours of sitting and reading </div>
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The kitchen prep area at night. We used an old desk as the table and the mini fridge and storage was underneath. Cups and plates were on the shelf where the LED lights are attached.</div>
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Not the most glamorous photo but here you can see how the kitchen sink functioned. </div>
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The Buckets on the right were the trash and recycling.</div>
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Spring at the cabin</div>
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Our outdoor rocket stove where we made eggs in the morning</div>
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we tried to process and eat these acorn in the fall, without much luck.</div>
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outdoor science lab</div>
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Wildflowers and marigolds.</div>
Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-70895176486810199552014-12-01T22:01:00.002-05:002014-12-01T22:01:31.321-05:00Working working working<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We painted the ceilings white with dark brown trim to lighten it up inside. Natural sunlight was lacking inside the cabin which kept it nice and cool in the summer. Cleaning the layers and layers of scum off the windows also helped to bring light in. We ran the entire cabin off of two outlets. We bought only low voltage light bulbs and we had a mini fridge and little hot water heating kettle. It was comfortable to sleep in there from March till the end of November when the first frost came. </div>
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Jameson built us this greywater sink. We would cart 5 gallon buckets down from the main house. That white cooler acted as our sink and the water would drain into another 5 gallon bucket under the sink. We used all natural soaps and had a spot outside where we would toss the used water so it could filter through the earth. The system worked quite well. </div>
<br />Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-80831472013485147702014-03-29T11:38:00.000-04:002014-03-29T11:42:46.971-04:00The Cabin Adventure Begins!!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey Friends! So it all begins....</div>
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Jameson and I have been needing some sacred space for years now. We love our life on the road playing music and traveling but we have been feeling the need to have a place to call our home and to share with others. We need to start repaying the years of hospitality shared with us. </div>
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Our dear friend Parker lives on a magical piece of land just a few miles East of downtown Richmond. On that land there is a little cabin which has been abandoned for probably 40 years. </div>
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Fortunately, last year, someone began the cleansing process. They moved out all the old furniture and swept the floor however, the cabin still needs a ton of love. </div>
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Jameson and I have been working on the inside for a couple days now. I have wiped down all the walls and fixtures with a sponge and bleach water (6 parts water 1 part bleach) to get off the mold and dust. We cleaned the windows which is letting a lot more light into the space.<br />
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In the right corner of the photo above you can see a wooden box. That is a built in bed frame. Jameson just extended the bed frame so it would be a double instead of a single. He used a hand saw and salvaged wood.<br />
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Right now the house does not have any electricity of plumbing so we are using candles to give some extra light. Eventually we will run an extension chord to the main house and have a few LED bulbs burning. We are trying to stay as energy efficient as possible and to really be aware of our consumption. One day I hope to be totally off the grid, this is our practice.<br />
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We plan to carry water down from the main house. We have a few containers and a Brita water filter. The house is on well water, which is really exciting for me. I took a sip yesterday and it was wonderful to not be able to taste the chlorine. I look at the land and I see so much richness, all the minerals in the soil and water, perfect ingredients to grow nutritious food. <br />
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The previous inhabitants left all sorts of thoughtful forest themed decorations like this pine cone and candle chandelier and these very 1950's curtains. Some we will keep and others we will use in other ways. </div>
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I'm going to try to keep this blog as a log of our journey. Feel free to ask questions in the comments. Hopefully I will have the time and where-with-all to document this process well. </div>
Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-33034254360694838522014-03-29T10:54:00.000-04:002014-03-29T10:54:14.889-04:00<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Mica & Graham's Wedding</b></span><br />
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We came home from tour to help our friends Mica and Graham with their wedding.<br />
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It was a very DIY wedding and fortunately M & G have very talented and capable friends, willing to take on the challenge. We all worked together to make it a really special heart filled event.<br />
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Here is Mica, her sister and her out of town college friends making braided rope streamers out of old fabric. It was bonding to sit around together and get to know each other while we worked. <br />
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Mica and Graham were married at the Quaker Meeting House in Richmond, Virginia. Jameson officiated the wedding. It was a different kind of wedding. M & G sat in rocking chairs and we all sat around them. Jameson invited everyone to sit in silence and when they felt moved by the spirit to give a blessing to the couple that they speak briefly from the heart. We all enjoyed the silence together, that moment where all our bodies had come together inspired by the love of our friends. So many blessings flowed from us to our dear ones. Mica's sister started it off praising the couple and giving us all a good example of how to send a blessing. She was followed by many others; friends, parents, grandparents. Some people told funny stories about the couple, others sent prayers of safety for their coming journey, and some more experienced couples gave personal wisdom about marriage. It was beautiful. After about an hour of silence and blessings Mica and Graham exchanged rings (in silence) and kissed, indicating that they had agreed that they were married.<br />
We gave a big cheer which felt rebellious and extra joy filled after all being quite for so long.<br />
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Then we partied!!!!<br />
Half the wedding party went to the reception via bicycle birgade.<br />
Jameson and I went ahead to the reception space to finish setting up.<br />
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The party was at <a href="http://lovebombrva.com/2013/08/19/we-are-starting-something/">LoveBomb</a> a radical new art space in South Side RVA. <br />
<br />All we brought were candles, the rope braids, and a few extra tables and chairs. The vibrant space already had so much character with it's enormous moveable stage and <a href="http://www.allthesaintstheaterco.com/">All the saints theater company's</a> giant puppets. <br />
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Eight bands played during the receptions. We all danced and sang along. It was like a modern day hoe-down. It added a lot to the wedding to have so much live music. In many ways it felt like a tribute to Greenwood manor, the house where Mica and Graham used to live where they hosted many musical gatherings though out the years. <br />
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<b>Here's the lineup!</b></div>
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<a href="http://colesullivan.bandcamp.com/">Cole Sullivan</a></div>
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<a href="http://schooldance.bandcamp.com/">School Dance </a></div>
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Andrew Ali and <a href="https://suburbanhome.bandcamp.com/">Josh Small</a></div>
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<a href="http://dharmabombs.bandcamp.com/track/free-at-last">Dharma Bombs</a></div>
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<a href="http://antiqueanimalsmusic.com/">Antique Animals</a></div>
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<a href="http://haintsintheholler.bandcamp.com/">Haints in the Hollar</a></div>
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<a href="http://lobomarino.bandcamp.com/">Lobo Marino</a></div>
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<a href="http://davewatkins.bandcamp.com/">Dave Watkins </a></div>
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Graham's family provided the food- Pig roast and traditional southern sides like deviled eggs, coleslaw, and pasta salad. Here is the bride and groom getting down on some ribs while sharing some Hardywood beer. <br />
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As a final touch to an awesome day, some very talented friends of the couple made this face cut out inspired by Mica and Graham's the next adventure, a bicycle trip up to Maine! Have a wonderful pilgrimage you two. Love you! Stay safe and come back to us. <br />
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<br />Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-17403071761959016662013-11-22T04:26:00.001-05:002014-02-26T21:40:40.360-05:00Adventures in Indian Fruit: Singra<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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It looks like a dried skull or very wrinkly prune. You see them in the market, laying in large piles next to cauliflower and spinach. </div>
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It was pretty easy to crack open and pull the white "nut-like" fruit from the shell. </div>
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It has a crisp bite and tastes a lot like raw corn on the cob. Corn on the cob with a dash of coconut or chestnut. It has a mildly bitter after taste, but is over all quite pleasant. It has that kind if flavor that reminds you of a family holiday, like they would be arranged in a bowl on the coffee table, accompanied by another empty bowl to hold the discarded shells. Only occasionally would everyone would eat a few. </div>
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-4458967269323844712013-11-20T22:37:00.001-05:002019-02-11T09:52:38.434-05:00All for Indra (God of the sky)<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"></span><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">Kartik Poornim (Dev Deepawali) is a festival only celebrated in Varanasi and only celebrated on the full moon of each November. It is a time when the town is filled with lights. The long steps from the town to the Ganga rivers edge are filled with oil candles, while the houses are covered with long strands of electric lights. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Deepawali celebrates the sky. It offers lights to the mighty air above with a reflection of stars on the ground. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That evening among the extra chaos of the streets we decided to take a boat to see all of the lights from afar. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The scene was magnificent, lights covered everything and ceremonies were preformed at every ghat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Deepawali is also a very auspicious time to be cremated, and so the burning ghats were filled with tall fires as numerous families gathered to witness the burial by flame. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(No one is to take pictures of the burning ghats)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our boat ride became exciting as the night passed and boat traffic increased. Giant motorboat were making huge waves for our little rowboat. The moon pulled the waters of the Ganges and our boatman struggled against the current, sweating and stripping off layers or cloths. At one point Laney walked the length of the boat to pour some water in his mouth. Finally after a long battle with the tide and congestion we made it back to the dock. The rest of the night we spent perched on a step, high above the chaos, and watch the festival goers move through the ghats like a herd of salmon swimming upstream. </span></div>
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-48921444272495320642013-11-13T04:28:00.001-05:002019-02-11T09:53:57.143-05:00Chat at the ghats<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"></span><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">On the same day as Jameson's birthday the women of Varanasi fasted so their children would be blessed. They had been fasting for two days now, the festival know as Chat was to mark the end of their hunger. In the evening the Ganga river was crowded with families presenting food to the goddess of the waters. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">The mothers baptized themselves three times while the fathers held them steady. Baskets full of coconuts, fruits and sweets were carried into the river by the blessed mothers who spun in circles while the family poured water and milk upon the offerings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">After the food was blessed and the sun had set the families prepared their camps along the ghats, the celebration wasn't over until sunrise the next day. All night children and adolescents lit fireworks while street musicians clapped their songs into the evening air. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">We watched the festival from a boat full of young men and a baby monkey who had adopted us as friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">They knew it was Jameson's birthday and bought him a cake as a surprise. They sang happy birthday and smeared icing on his face, then lit fireworks on the edges of the boat. The panicked monkey climbed from head to head but really wanted nothing to do with anyone but her human father. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Small candles surrounded by flowers within floating tree leaves were offered to the Ganges. All around us small cups of light drifted with the rivers current. We added one to the group, as a birthday blessing, and to the journey of birth and life. </span></div>
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-6703877629649403722013-11-09T23:37:00.001-05:002014-02-26T21:45:36.501-05:00slide show: Varanasi boat ride<br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-85069649897481722392013-11-09T00:43:00.001-05:002019-02-11T09:54:39.744-05:00City of Light<div style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">The narrow streets of Varinasi are crammed full of people, cows, dogs, motor vehicles, bicycle rickshaws, poop from a variety of living creatures and piles of trash and yet the city glows with wonder and magic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is filled with temples, altars and a populas of worshipers who adorn the streets with litter as they adorn the statues of the gods with flower petals. It may seem confusing or even disrespectful, but the real spirit is found in this cities ability to worship everything. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">If you choose to only see the chaos, then that is what you see. But if you can stop for a moment and blur your lines, that is, see all things as matter waiting to decay. Then the beauty rises like a phenoix from the ashes of burning trash piles and funeral pyres. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Varinasi is like no place else. It exist in a different dimension. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the past week we have been waking up at 5am to the sounds of our Varinasi alarm clock, holy men blowing their conk shells by the Ganga river and the monkeys fighting on our balcony. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Once awake we wait for sunrise and then walk along the ghats of the forever holy Ganges river. The Ganges, or Ganga, is used for everything: bathing, washing, drinking, collecting trash and sewage. The cement steps of its urban shore are used for ceremony, from pujas (prayer and ceremony) to the burning, washing and sinking of the dead. It is said that to die in Varinasi ends ones cycle of rebirth. You may transcend to Nirvana. So many people come here to die. When they do they are buried by the river waters or burned by the shore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> These waters are truly holy and keep those who use it healthy. They do not become sick from bathing or drinking it. All in one, and all together. Bring your sin, your filth and toothbrush to the rivers edge. </span></div>
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-17313367134388203002013-01-31T11:42:00.001-05:002013-02-04T23:06:14.123-05:00Into the Woods<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9spnq3vIUydQPsCccyWD4rM5ejz4xXb0HyPcvRC8yE-PibpRho2uZUzihjfxtCzT-B_I5jxNzYGv1zUtP-ce2RxIYs6ZkU9B2VmiZnXnFn8u4aGDIyv28ded0X9mn3fIILiu4dloz2HK/s640/blogger-image-1250212195.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9spnq3vIUydQPsCccyWD4rM5ejz4xXb0HyPcvRC8yE-PibpRho2uZUzihjfxtCzT-B_I5jxNzYGv1zUtP-ce2RxIYs6ZkU9B2VmiZnXnFn8u4aGDIyv28ded0X9mn3fIILiu4dloz2HK/s400/blogger-image-1250212195.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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<br />Nestled in the marshlands and towering pines sits Hostel in the Forest, a collectively run, sustainable oriented get away. <br />
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We had the joy and privilege of staying for free. The hostel has a new " play for trade" program where musicians stay for free in exchange for a playing a concert for the guests. We arrived just after sunset and fumbled our way in the new moonlight through the forest paths. Someone had taken the time to draw hearts and messages in the path using pine leaves and sticks.<br />
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We got a dark tour of the grounds and the. We were taken to our room, a towering wooden box on stilts. <br /><br />
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The commune style staff can only all live there for six months at a time, in order to keep the energy in constant fluctuation.<br />
I, accidentally, sat in on a staff meeting one night, the main order of business being to name the rooster. No one really agreed on a name, so everyone scribbled on some paper their vote and placed it in a hat, from which I, being the neutral party, selected the roosters name. His name is now Jesus, which they all agreed was the best name, seeing as they planned to kill and eat him sometime in the spring. <br />
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Along with the roosters there are many many chickens. They roam free in the forest eating grubs from kicked up leaves. Next to the chicken coop is the outdoor cob kitchen where two guest baked a mountain of bread our first night. It was delicious and sweet, covered in sunflower seeds and raisins. You eat like a god at the hostel in the forest. The indoor kitchen is stocked with herbs an fruit. Every night, all the guests gather together and eat a feast of lentils and root vegetables and greens from the garden. Before dinner everyone gets in a circle and talks about what they are grateful for, then they stomp their feet and yell "CHOMP!" This tradition goes back to the beginning of this hostels inception, sometime in the early 1970's<br />
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWkcpQDMdWrhFTj3pjKe3czynfwaxoUcAj5V5GKh1TN0S9o_TtlZdh826YS7uCDp35oPtYeLe-FSiVMUHUMEDxZ5g9xrCAAYRUriDYMHZ-BR-3u3B8h7fcOlG8aThs2VHN-glr8zvUEIS/s640/blogger-image--447286452.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWkcpQDMdWrhFTj3pjKe3czynfwaxoUcAj5V5GKh1TN0S9o_TtlZdh826YS7uCDp35oPtYeLe-FSiVMUHUMEDxZ5g9xrCAAYRUriDYMHZ-BR-3u3B8h7fcOlG8aThs2VHN-glr8zvUEIS/s400/blogger-image--447286452.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />When we were not feasting and playing music we were exploring. The hostel is situated on a ton of land with all sorts of hidden nooks and cranny's. We spent a good hour, our first morning, sitting on a swing by the lake. Walking around the lake's perimeter we found a teepee, sweat lodge, fire circle, and tons of fruit trees. As we walked back to the main house along the weaving wooden boardwalk we passes an screened area with a big bathtub and candles all around it. There is nothing like sitting in a hot tub and staring at the tree tops and stars. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHeYoKpICCFkOJB6EcyjIoZ7P74FmF7gVz7hZ4EIOazsTVhJWpd64hYbpL5354EnDfrNybCYUXMqV9gHP6_aq9Mz-r2y4nXeqC0CIGVuJz4lYiUUnkFa9V1TrgI1VeOpcFVFNSmitUb_be/s640/blogger-image-591353330.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHeYoKpICCFkOJB6EcyjIoZ7P74FmF7gVz7hZ4EIOazsTVhJWpd64hYbpL5354EnDfrNybCYUXMqV9gHP6_aq9Mz-r2y4nXeqC0CIGVuJz4lYiUUnkFa9V1TrgI1VeOpcFVFNSmitUb_be/s400/blogger-image-591353330.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br />
It's amazing how one can create such luxury in a sustainable way. Other notable parts of the hostel are the enormous stone labyrinth wrapping itself around an ancient oak tree, as well at a glass house situated right over a lake, a perfect place for yoga and meditation. <br />
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Time just melts away at the hostel in the forest. The days pass with no consideration of the outside world. It's a beautiful place to lose (or find) yourself. We Are so grateful to have found this hidden gem in the backwoods of the Georgia coast and we will visit as often as we can. <br />
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<br />Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-6404412105147108782012-12-06T14:00:00.001-05:002012-12-11T10:35:28.984-05:00Mushroom Rock<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74xoHoJG7ucRswnuRjjQuQkOAjvV-bLAqNd8gUXPNd41dTYX6tT7PGxY2yFREzY5k2YdL1yv4T8vZ8OtZdwBEf0ww8uu4CMURTpSdbQW2Jv2fXsIlVP2SMGpIcgFqalL8TKUyIcvd76qF/s640/blogger-image--325872239.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74xoHoJG7ucRswnuRjjQuQkOAjvV-bLAqNd8gUXPNd41dTYX6tT7PGxY2yFREzY5k2YdL1yv4T8vZ8OtZdwBEf0ww8uu4CMURTpSdbQW2Jv2fXsIlVP2SMGpIcgFqalL8TKUyIcvd76qF/s400/blogger-image--325872239.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Buried deep in the heart of Kansas lays Mushroom Rock, a unique formation of towering eroded stone. <br />
The bottom of the rock is made of softer stone and has been eroded by wind and water, while the top stone is more solid and sits upon it now stone stalk.<br />
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The State Park dedicated to these rocks sits at the end of an abandoned dirt road, with only hand painted wooden signs pointing its direction.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbZttGYTddDfDEcLUfkWYCRQQuZojqtfng4vFLzp9PjW0HbmKrGZNP7bDyJoJNxBgYmYIFt5ahynfO5_R3b0A7YGz-jKl3brfMH8j6pIpZb-RhqPiMshNxtUS3DguFyzeqNRRb3hJOGP2/s640/blogger-image--545486672.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbZttGYTddDfDEcLUfkWYCRQQuZojqtfng4vFLzp9PjW0HbmKrGZNP7bDyJoJNxBgYmYIFt5ahynfO5_R3b0A7YGz-jKl3brfMH8j6pIpZb-RhqPiMshNxtUS3DguFyzeqNRRb3hJOGP2/s400/blogger-image--545486672.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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The softer stone is covered with carved names and messages of visitors who aid the wind and water in their erosion. Slowly the stone "stalk" crumbles away and eventually it will be nothing more than a boulder on the earth.<br />
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Used by native explores as a landmark, Mushroom Rock is steeped in folklore. <br />
We are glad to have seen it in its glory, one day soon it may only nothing but a rock and a story. <br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-13989684895472096172012-09-22T13:44:00.001-04:002012-11-19T02:34:15.766-05:00Things you should see before you pass onA Sealion in its natural habitat<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxk0MAMKkHQOr9-rfLCi-nvb7lGy7bIuktZBw8aWbcUd9ttHxEVP5i3rAY3yGnAnQyn13nSXz1jYoJ3pub33bMcm90gKxFP9gKVyowWHYUBn6xqNjpwDUVysi2AngYGVk2hKIcfq5eiFyd/s640/blogger-image-1608557812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxk0MAMKkHQOr9-rfLCi-nvb7lGy7bIuktZBw8aWbcUd9ttHxEVP5i3rAY3yGnAnQyn13nSXz1jYoJ3pub33bMcm90gKxFP9gKVyowWHYUBn6xqNjpwDUVysi2AngYGVk2hKIcfq5eiFyd/s400/blogger-image-1608557812.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-82047232704663572362012-09-22T13:43:00.003-04:002012-11-19T02:34:42.142-05:00Things you should see before you pass onThe Redwood Forrest<br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-67584411128190067102012-09-22T13:43:00.001-04:002012-11-19T02:35:19.245-05:00Wild west what?You know goldrush got real when you pass through a town like Placerville, California which was originally known as "Hang Town". The main street even has an historic marker for where all the hangings took place. There is no messing around with this once, wild west rough, now touristy, Placerville. <br />
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This town contains so much energy it floats are like a fog. Such an interesting balance will not be forgotten. <br /><br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-41097724737437480082012-09-04T19:30:00.001-04:002012-09-05T12:31:03.401-04:00Part of the Salish SeaCongratulation the region of Puget Sound, Washington! <br />
You've been added to "places we might have babies in"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uRyYuID8dq0KkHf3VI278W6LG4HYQlS_uLfE7M22hNpCmBIjxok2QgLdMEQLKaEa1Kc8pFrVpTg8P12Q21b7izWgNo1bEMPrSohM7vyw_v3-Q2JZvZZ7fvPZwIUxkVMdLXrYOg000J5r/s640/blogger-image--606868211.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uRyYuID8dq0KkHf3VI278W6LG4HYQlS_uLfE7M22hNpCmBIjxok2QgLdMEQLKaEa1Kc8pFrVpTg8P12Q21b7izWgNo1bEMPrSohM7vyw_v3-Q2JZvZZ7fvPZwIUxkVMdLXrYOg000J5r/s400/blogger-image--606868211.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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Though I am sure we need to come back in the winter to get a true sense of your climate, you have been nothing but beautiful during our week off in your embrace. <br />
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Surrounded by lakes and bays, beautiful inactive volcanoes loom in the distance while seagulls cry to remind you that the ocean is near.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTtkLsrGTR-wCTQ26gefDWsS8qaiJ-alaQIusMAW-uNJV3fw2Qh0ZKauFoFZvo-ExV6DDTTsgozlDSTNHzz5C0bRXrMebtugzXoAv4dSW37DR4DQV2_TnKjKGxHBc9tcyafdmeGc4x5J7/s640/blogger-image-610625735.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTtkLsrGTR-wCTQ26gefDWsS8qaiJ-alaQIusMAW-uNJV3fw2Qh0ZKauFoFZvo-ExV6DDTTsgozlDSTNHzz5C0bRXrMebtugzXoAv4dSW37DR4DQV2_TnKjKGxHBc9tcyafdmeGc4x5J7/s400/blogger-image-610625735.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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When it comes to natural beauty Puget Sound is stunning. Giant Douglas Firs fill the close National parks, while yachts and houseboats fill the crystal lakes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr9HHUVQSJx4-8bHbq0HuFBq4gjwQREENAshstBzcI3lkK-yUoEHVIk2DfSIDFzaZpbVhOg7nfe2-5mkFlb7tzCM7Y5vIBm4cdfODLbgzg6vx4ASRZbO0qx3OJi7yt8k-SMqsAOs99x4w/s640/blogger-image--1514406903.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr9HHUVQSJx4-8bHbq0HuFBq4gjwQREENAshstBzcI3lkK-yUoEHVIk2DfSIDFzaZpbVhOg7nfe2-5mkFlb7tzCM7Y5vIBm4cdfODLbgzg6vx4ASRZbO0qx3OJi7yt8k-SMqsAOs99x4w/s400/blogger-image--1514406903.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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The locals seem to think these lakes are the perfect temperature for swimming, though a bit chilly for east coast blood, I'm sure it is something you just get used to. <br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-43019420242870927492012-08-16T03:08:00.001-04:002012-09-05T12:31:20.480-04:00Theres a Cat in Kalamazoo, who Loves Biscotti Too<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-17918838594910508182012-06-22T10:24:00.002-04:002012-06-22T10:24:38.044-04:00Reunited and it feels so gooooooodJameson made it back to Virginia, safe and sound. We have been (sort of) hiding out in Northern, Virginia, resting. His second day back my Mom asked us to make our special vegetarian sushi for her friends. The cooking was therapeutic. <br />
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<br />Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-43298896957132479052012-06-12T07:19:00.001-04:002012-06-13T10:39:37.949-04:00A Post Camino Thank You:Thank You:<br />
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To my hat (for your shade)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xqjgo1perUj5zHxVIX30PElZ3C6sd6Us5kua6fiKYH3mM-m9f_49IXjup8nw2JtB1QvidMRsONVKiUKwDwQrEP9zOIj7KWstgcQtz6w82vuyjNce56YBQLFiRDYSGFRNfkMRTWRIOnHf/s640/blogger-image-132766386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xqjgo1perUj5zHxVIX30PElZ3C6sd6Us5kua6fiKYH3mM-m9f_49IXjup8nw2JtB1QvidMRsONVKiUKwDwQrEP9zOIj7KWstgcQtz6w82vuyjNce56YBQLFiRDYSGFRNfkMRTWRIOnHf/s400/blogger-image-132766386.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
To my bag (for weighing very little) <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEkhUYmThImwQ-C0JPA4MlCMyeWYVEHMcnOcksYTd8AxZdnZS1fu2m9dvDSG4COO5f8mfrpsqwnMAeDH86HNDMen_d-5xMHfpLRLV2WO-wjhkZpsTrk6p-QJy3xv20BERpiKRdH9R_d228/s640/blogger-image-1950889766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEkhUYmThImwQ-C0JPA4MlCMyeWYVEHMcnOcksYTd8AxZdnZS1fu2m9dvDSG4COO5f8mfrpsqwnMAeDH86HNDMen_d-5xMHfpLRLV2WO-wjhkZpsTrk6p-QJy3xv20BERpiKRdH9R_d228/s400/blogger-image-1950889766.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
To my sleeping bag (sorry I kicked a hole in you on our first night and I had to stitch you up with rope)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUGLPQn9Tx-W3zUsU7lBUsvEzz9nN-D7X8GoYHgTwHSRVQiDyeOsXSvo9RpLC77udUUMxlkAndpIUYGPbedBvBGu2Zbr5hrDGnWPjeJYd5MBvi5PXloNe2UqdVLNA9n3EEq4f63QiqG6m/s640/blogger-image--698929365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUGLPQn9Tx-W3zUsU7lBUsvEzz9nN-D7X8GoYHgTwHSRVQiDyeOsXSvo9RpLC77udUUMxlkAndpIUYGPbedBvBGu2Zbr5hrDGnWPjeJYd5MBvi5PXloNe2UqdVLNA9n3EEq4f63QiqG6m/s400/blogger-image--698929365.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
To my water bottle (for holding water) <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fe5OXaklG5gHGW69zmxGUw9ywnkmRTksPXRNPB6ESSiWy_UZqmtLHfyJtitYTmbNP4b-ts2N3-fK0vZWdPLWxwHOtjNvRNPTiupKJtdMs1_fhjqrW2ORfCS12iq6Nlo67QA8XcejW1NP/s640/blogger-image--1232669037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fe5OXaklG5gHGW69zmxGUw9ywnkmRTksPXRNPB6ESSiWy_UZqmtLHfyJtitYTmbNP4b-ts2N3-fK0vZWdPLWxwHOtjNvRNPTiupKJtdMs1_fhjqrW2ORfCS12iq6Nlo67QA8XcejW1NP/s400/blogger-image--1232669037.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
To my poncho (for keeping me dry and warm)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18VG6qegKoGm81XjIXe27JNsmrWCqgOtSSsOtfRXv-wph0E_EdviwynNb3RsZ4SIja_FQmHMTY-rEyWz-TeLYcKkbXuKVqUC70GK_oQQFOuKCMwW27VH_s2tJDr51zbVFhGXEEy-lVYqX/s640/blogger-image-30620968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18VG6qegKoGm81XjIXe27JNsmrWCqgOtSSsOtfRXv-wph0E_EdviwynNb3RsZ4SIja_FQmHMTY-rEyWz-TeLYcKkbXuKVqUC70GK_oQQFOuKCMwW27VH_s2tJDr51zbVFhGXEEy-lVYqX/s400/blogger-image-30620968.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
and To my shoes (I cannot believe you made it the whole way)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekXhlzOxVMMEW3zEWZFZrKnf0F1olO8QFvrY8-BkcHc7igt1x3ob_YJpIbTch-B0Wdv9g77qPlGsjn0lTtYYiGuTM4L-is4DjRn5vy_iPm0OYn-F230uBjkONhkG08D0YEyR4e6-lH2th/s640/blogger-image-266733931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekXhlzOxVMMEW3zEWZFZrKnf0F1olO8QFvrY8-BkcHc7igt1x3ob_YJpIbTch-B0Wdv9g77qPlGsjn0lTtYYiGuTM4L-is4DjRn5vy_iPm0OYn-F230uBjkONhkG08D0YEyR4e6-lH2th/s400/blogger-image-266733931.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
Fun Facts: <br />
(all numbers are approximate)<br />
<br />
Walked: 342 kilometers <br />
Drank: 25.5 liters of water<br />
Ate: 1,475 grams of nuts <br />
Followed: 3,815 yellow arrows <br />
Stepped in: 6 piles of livestock poop<br />
Blisters: 0<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_uVX6fW3ReTOaTEZZrVyYkqFuYPs9M1y8c1Oms8TA2wGUlooKJMmvEQfpJF6MbvDNjC6x1n8RXL5LJ34KpQO48sHnGrv_c9SYMpoQi6hntgHV-MI_1xdr7Us2C4OrjVyVCVIt1joo3g_1/s640/blogger-image--1893043671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_uVX6fW3ReTOaTEZZrVyYkqFuYPs9M1y8c1Oms8TA2wGUlooKJMmvEQfpJF6MbvDNjC6x1n8RXL5LJ34KpQO48sHnGrv_c9SYMpoQi6hntgHV-MI_1xdr7Us2C4OrjVyVCVIt1joo3g_1/s400/blogger-image--1893043671.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-77775400314106291492012-06-11T11:01:00.001-04:002012-06-11T12:25:24.093-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Family and friends, I have safely completed the Camino Portugués, plus a little extra.</div>
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I walked my planned route in about one week and had a few days left over, so I continued to Muxia, on the coast as did many ancient pilgrims who followed the Camino de Santiago.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm86XLHFYwZDLDGUtp9zRKzP5vGcLLzC2WYx-AEfH1xkTerdZiUUjlNdxQigrT1bh6k8CQfviKRS49hSP6-AiqH9os783ED-iF5AQIlFAg0lxZJQD_iDNt2nxFlX6r_SP9sRecob8wNJhW/s640/blogger-image--483335683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm86XLHFYwZDLDGUtp9zRKzP5vGcLLzC2WYx-AEfH1xkTerdZiUUjlNdxQigrT1bh6k8CQfviKRS49hSP6-AiqH9os783ED-iF5AQIlFAg0lxZJQD_iDNt2nxFlX6r_SP9sRecob8wNJhW/s400/blogger-image--483335683.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJV7rKLPnOtuBxJQQODY4V19SO2LavwFikIHzpLl2rkY0-mjrTDdjVEwj4ca3jeqezBXy7P6tUoel1Q4jjqTmt9-_-TN-xbO6bhSaPjzIS6I2GvGjbeqw4RzqQCZSVbtTMegXfGmPs1Xih/s640/blogger-image--1447531299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJV7rKLPnOtuBxJQQODY4V19SO2LavwFikIHzpLl2rkY0-mjrTDdjVEwj4ca3jeqezBXy7P6tUoel1Q4jjqTmt9-_-TN-xbO6bhSaPjzIS6I2GvGjbeqw4RzqQCZSVbtTMegXfGmPs1Xih/s400/blogger-image--1447531299.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
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Just to give you a brief history on the Camino:<br />
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Santiago de Compostela is a city in northern Spain, an area known as Galicia. The cathedral in the city center contains the beheaded body of Saint James. According to legend, after he was executed, his apostles brought the body by boat back to northern Spain for burial in the land where he practiced his ministry. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnil35amjByzYyFFRpldzOMw4XJK3UeoC2Sbo_lYFPK17lKdkVzWnrtRPElacRZMZ0eSdEf8VflGKhFUHcH4wlCvm6_IKg7yaNRy9yA5Sh6yLtLjObz9ch06el7eGCVjhW-FGcHaz5gt7/s640/blogger-image--127214958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpnil35amjByzYyFFRpldzOMw4XJK3UeoC2Sbo_lYFPK17lKdkVzWnrtRPElacRZMZ0eSdEf8VflGKhFUHcH4wlCvm6_IKg7yaNRy9yA5Sh6yLtLjObz9ch06el7eGCVjhW-FGcHaz5gt7/s400/blogger-image--127214958.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
The exact burial site was lost over time, but in 820 AD remains of a tomb were found and the body was confirmed by the Catholic church along with other civil authorities to be those of Saint James the Greater. <br />
The area his remains were found eventually became the city of Santiago de Compostela. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzjkKhspWH6G-111pj6JsvmlPvkYArTrCGZWIrcAAh0dn4AAcRxI9QGpbg_zbQfB2CflBzgYNUSTERqWFgCw1LtvZPttekY5q6OvLVJPJWOaa1GDZ7Xf8wZKk_l_CSuILPCqswRe5Kms7/s640/blogger-image-1369677125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizzjkKhspWH6G-111pj6JsvmlPvkYArTrCGZWIrcAAh0dn4AAcRxI9QGpbg_zbQfB2CflBzgYNUSTERqWFgCw1LtvZPttekY5q6OvLVJPJWOaa1GDZ7Xf8wZKk_l_CSuILPCqswRe5Kms7/s400/blogger-image-1369677125.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
The pilgrimage to Santiago has been a tradition since the body's discovery, with monks and devoted catholics from all around Europe walking great distances to pay their respects to Saint James. Many continued past Santiago de Compostela to end their journey in either Fisterra, which at the time was considered the end of the known world, or Muxia, where Saint James's ministry began and where his apostles began when they journeyed with his body for burial. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ix1QeThmK7aNVGXaYYhAUul8DS-mvU0_0XACuSiuYvdLTRt5dmKDuVp37fCerB0oPLQ9jujRMTEqEB0Fus4-Xu606cknDtp193vaSCB-Qg5FEXdlL-58u1sIqjF7US1dbzUZzwL-Or0Y/s640/blogger-image--571668250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ix1QeThmK7aNVGXaYYhAUul8DS-mvU0_0XACuSiuYvdLTRt5dmKDuVp37fCerB0oPLQ9jujRMTEqEB0Fus4-Xu606cknDtp193vaSCB-Qg5FEXdlL-58u1sIqjF7US1dbzUZzwL-Or0Y/s400/blogger-image--571668250.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoes5u3jB-h8UNtHB5Q3aKA8EKUHTor59Vxx1Qk3z5q5lOBLWgboGHnGwH7EXL_CjQdyeTRs-NxO7BCRUOntGblS82Z7D54nXFlVv5RsGmyzg1MtaUjhfpWmfYTZlUFb2FwqmbJgvoLT5t/s640/blogger-image-1559115281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoes5u3jB-h8UNtHB5Q3aKA8EKUHTor59Vxx1Qk3z5q5lOBLWgboGHnGwH7EXL_CjQdyeTRs-NxO7BCRUOntGblS82Z7D54nXFlVv5RsGmyzg1MtaUjhfpWmfYTZlUFb2FwqmbJgvoLT5t/s400/blogger-image-1559115281.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
According to legend Saint James was visited by the Virgin Mary, who sailed on a boat made of stone to the coast of Muxia to aid Saint James in preaching the gospel. The remains of the stone boat can still be seen on the coast today. Though you sort of have to use your imagination.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimdEUshuy-VS6azY26w2nVyR27gdMmW73HZYrmr8g2EdZgr4-IxGj1-Y27dO9liMOPFJaKnl1bnPcf2PKwjbd4ezc3nFnD2xAHshBU7fTSw4cDI5do3-ETq_c5QBbokOLpS11MhRi0-Xl/s640/blogger-image-584788610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimdEUshuy-VS6azY26w2nVyR27gdMmW73HZYrmr8g2EdZgr4-IxGj1-Y27dO9liMOPFJaKnl1bnPcf2PKwjbd4ezc3nFnD2xAHshBU7fTSw4cDI5do3-ETq_c5QBbokOLpS11MhRi0-Xl/s400/blogger-image-584788610.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
This journey was very important for me. I had a list of things I wanted to work on within myself and I learned lessons along the way that I had never planned to learn. <br />
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It was an absolutely beautiful trip and I hope to return to you as a better person for having done this voyage. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm86XLHFYwZDLDGUtp9zRKzP5vGcLLzC2WYx-AEfH1xkTerdZiUUjlNdxQigrT1bh6k8CQfviKRS49hSP6-AiqH9os783ED-iF5AQIlFAg0lxZJQD_iDNt2nxFlX6r_SP9sRecob8wNJhW/s640/blogger-image--483335683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-85333308236013638662012-05-31T17:38:00.001-04:002012-05-31T17:38:52.381-04:00I leave in the morning to start the Camino Portugues, a 12 day pilgrimage that ends in Santiago de Compostela (northern Spain).<br />
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I am very much treating this walk as a pilgrimage and plan to do a lot of spiritual and medatative work within myself during these next couple of weeks. <br />
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As a result I will not be accessing the internet much and will post some photos and thoughts when I finish after June 12th. <br />
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If you'd like to see descriptions of the route simply search 'Camino Portuges'.<br />
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Wish me enlightenment luck!Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-10093049686876494292012-05-30T07:08:00.001-04:002012-05-30T18:48:17.254-04:00Since 1978, the Assilah medina hosts an annual street art festival where Moroccan and international artists, along with children, paint graffiti murals throughout the streets of the old town. They leave these murals up year round until the next festival, when they paint the walls white and do it all over again. <br />
The style of graffiti and the playfulness involved is unlike any other street art I have seen. This just adds to the interesting contrast that already exist in the old medina of Assilah.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFp9OY4a2lgWE4IkYLTRZrZbnsKobHyu9Scz_K1is-yQTTgsS1ziv0376_gPXU_Tu5gxQb3Y08fm616-kQzefUdBZ6EYIXhbL7cYEEYVpEdqKIYj_Y3xHUhb6Mhnlsj4c4mq5QfGt8JkuB/s640/blogger-image-2142659246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFp9OY4a2lgWE4IkYLTRZrZbnsKobHyu9Scz_K1is-yQTTgsS1ziv0376_gPXU_Tu5gxQb3Y08fm616-kQzefUdBZ6EYIXhbL7cYEEYVpEdqKIYj_Y3xHUhb6Mhnlsj4c4mq5QfGt8JkuB/s400/blogger-image-2142659246.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-10424301639932598002012-05-30T05:30:00.001-04:002019-02-11T10:17:27.992-05:00One. Two. Three. Fort<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EH4EA1L5i__rzmW_m89vVthrXulvMitO5uKop1qoFRInXwHbyQulyiBU6giyws_YNy9R4FaSAboXCUIwq5noHMULOIL9lZ1oV9FTfypWZDccP9j6Qp7MLNo1YUuXJ8ToNyom2pRgBJDA/s640/blogger-image-1376400828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EH4EA1L5i__rzmW_m89vVthrXulvMitO5uKop1qoFRInXwHbyQulyiBU6giyws_YNy9R4FaSAboXCUIwq5noHMULOIL9lZ1oV9FTfypWZDccP9j6Qp7MLNo1YUuXJ8ToNyom2pRgBJDA/s400/blogger-image-1376400828.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
Assilah is the fourth walled city that I have been too, but defiantly the first Portuguese/Arabic hybrid.<br />
It was first occupied by Portugal in the 14th century. Then Morocco took it over in the 16th century, decided to leave the walls up, but change everything within. This makes for a really interesting contrast of visuals as you walk around the old medina. Mosques next to Latin arches, next to european cobble stone next to mosaics. It really is something to behold. <br />
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Assilah is next to the ocean, so naturally this made us want to go swimming. We trotted down to the beach and found that the main beach is not kept very clean during the off season. <br />
Now, I am no diva, I swim in the James River, but there were just a few too many baby dipers and chemical puddes for both Liam and I. <br />
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We heard that there is a much nicer beach south of town, so we decided to give it a try. We walked, for what felt like a few kilometers, but had no luck. We saw in the distance what looked like a resort and decided to walk towards it. When we got there we found a resort complex and golf course that was completely empty. There appeared to be some construction that still needed to be done, but over all these HUGE buildings towering over us didn't seems to have a soul inside. The lawn sprinklers were spraying and it felt as if the world had ended while we were walking and everyone had disappeared.<br />
We continued walking through the grounds, and then there in front of us, the holy grail, a boarder less swimming pool.<br />
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We ripped off our clothes and jumped into to the clear waters. A private pool surrounded by resort giants. <br />
We swam and laid poolside like millionaires for the afternoon, then found some towel on the ground, dried off and walked back to town.<br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-52348517661385585972012-05-29T07:33:00.001-04:002019-02-11T10:01:05.734-05:00Golden Tangerines<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6f79mJQljWdlmO6pYNvnhdNUFG4p5VTSsSc1FknMq0h5RP4lyLDhyvmz1DtoWtydLLIbdhC4beockeAQmU-5FCNibdnzqE6muREFIj4518o6L1nxo_HggPVFvHm4ZbGbZ1lIJANEG86r/s640/blogger-image-1378174151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6f79mJQljWdlmO6pYNvnhdNUFG4p5VTSsSc1FknMq0h5RP4lyLDhyvmz1DtoWtydLLIbdhC4beockeAQmU-5FCNibdnzqE6muREFIj4518o6L1nxo_HggPVFvHm4ZbGbZ1lIJANEG86r/s400/blogger-image-1378174151.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
I have been really excited to see the Roman ruins in Lixus for awhile now, or at least since I first read about them, which granted was only a couple of days ago, but still the point is, I was stoked!<br />
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Liam and I caught a bus and figured out where to get off, we got pretty lucky with guessing the timing and direction. <br />
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The ruins are just off the main road to Tangier, siting there like a road side attraction (which they are), but in a very rustic sort of way. <br />
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The ancient Roman ruins date back to 1000 BC and was part of the Roman outspread and conquest of northern Africa. <br />
The site is fairly massive and has ruins of government buildings, an amphitheater, public baths, garum (fish paste) factories, olive presses and temples. <br />
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It has been left to nature since it was first excavated and only a quarter of the ruins have even been unearthed. The ocean, which is now 4 kilometers away from the sight, was at one point right next to the town. This provided them easy access to the fish that were salted and turned to paste, an ancient Roman delicacy. <br />
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Insects and amphibians are everywhere. Thorny weeds and dry grass stretch between the massive stacked stones that were once walls. Ancient olive trees drop its fruit to the ground and ants carry their dried pits off into the hills and holes. <br />
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According to Roman mythology, this is where Hercules was thought to have picked his famous golden apples, which may have very well been Moroccan tangerines instead.<br />
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I had never been anywhere so ancient and so unpreserved, it was an amazing thing to experience. I felt as though I had just stumbled upon some secret historic sight for the first time and it was mine to explore. <br />
There were no other guests there and apart from the security guard, who i guess is paid to follow at a great distance behind you, we had the place to ourselves. <br />
<br />
I wanted to spend more time there and had even packed a lunch to eat in the ruins of the temple, but the bugs were relentless. I have red bites all over the exposed parts of my skin, and most of those came from the 5 minutes I tried to sit down and meditate next to the temple to see what the roman gods felt like through ancient stone.<br />
In a way it was nice that these bugs were doing their best to protect the ruins, so I respected their wishes and we left, after spending only a few hours there. <br />
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As we walked to the main road to catch the bus a car pulled over and offered us a ride. We hopped in, not completely sure yet if it was just a taxi that pulled a fast one on us, seeing as it was a 70's model Mercedes and was blasting love ballads, but it just turned out to be a free ride.<br />
We gave him a few dirham anyway as a thank you.<br />
<br />
He dropped us off by the port, which was still full of empty, tiny fishing boats that were covered with seagulls looking for scraps. <br />
Larache defiantly has a way of growing on you. <br />
We sat and ate olive bread in the plaza in honor of the roman ruins, olives for us and fish guts for the birds. <br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-2188264093858262292012-05-28T06:13:00.001-04:002019-02-11T10:12:55.400-05:00Rocky Beach and the Smell of Fish<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuC0YGPCQGipqlGETQsLw1Bt-uMY7TQqlVI7e4ekCnCU-k1ezjAwU8S8tBC9rNNaIoioBbvE4m68IyTMjrrX0gkUqGYL6LfSXny8dHw_gnX2HwTVYsRcA8XBofb_67i0KwyKRxowlZpQ7/s640/blogger-image--644621235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuC0YGPCQGipqlGETQsLw1Bt-uMY7TQqlVI7e4ekCnCU-k1ezjAwU8S8tBC9rNNaIoioBbvE4m68IyTMjrrX0gkUqGYL6LfSXny8dHw_gnX2HwTVYsRcA8XBofb_67i0KwyKRxowlZpQ7/s400/blogger-image--644621235.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><br />
After being jet propelled by taxi we arrived safety in the town of Larache, which is actually larger than I was lead to believe and seems to sprawl pretty far beyond the bus station. <br />
<br />
This town has a long history, but the forts left by the 16th century Portuguese and the old barrio left by the 17th century Spanish are crumbling into the ocean or being swallowed by the dirt and trash.<br />
So it feels more modern than historic, with current Arab architecture resting against the plazas, which rest against the ocean, which rest against the sky. <br />
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The town is quiet and friendly, people smiling inviting you to their table to drink some tea.<br />
I had tea three times today. That's a lot of sugar<br />
<br />
The ocean against the town is rocky and doesn't really have a swim able beach. There is cascading trash down the hill towards the rocks, as if the ocean was a famous soccer player who just missed the winning goal. <br />
The closest sandy beach can seen from the plazas above and requires a short fishing boat ride across the port.<br />
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There are many open air markets in Larache. We were told that some of the best fish in Morocco is from this town. <br />
The smell is strong.<br /><br />
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Larache is on the Atlantic ocean, so the westward facing sunsets are something to behold, and though it was cloudy, the brilliant colors of red and pink poured from behind giving the clouds plenty of stage to make elaborate colorful shadow puppets.<br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-887073019972290063.post-77435657072748432072012-05-27T12:43:00.001-04:002019-02-11T10:03:23.550-05:00I've been sick for the past three days in Morocco. <br />
Stomach bug, nothing serious, just enough to keep me inside and follow a pattern that went something like this: <br />
Bed. Toilet. Bed. Bed. Toilet. Bed. Toilet. Couch.<br />
<br />
I needed a change of scenery. I had become too familiar with the hanging lamp above my bed (which was made from plastic shopping bags). So as soon as I started to show improvement and could hold down some food I decided to leave Chefchaouen and head for the coast. <br />
<br />
I was telling the other roof top occupants about my plans and a rather nice Aussie (whom I've been hanging out with a bunch) named Liam sparked with interest. <br />
He was more than welcome to join me, and I was happy to have someone to travel with.<br />
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Name: Liam<br />
Age: 20<br />
Hair: Light Brown (hints of red)<br />
Sign: Libra<br />
<br />
We left Chaouen just as a series of storms started to desend from the mountains onto the village. We dodged the rain and saw it swirling behind our bus as it roared out of the mountains. <br />
<br />
We connected in one town and then took a taxi the remaining 90 kilometers to the coast. <br />
Almost all of the taxis in Morocco are very well used Mercedes from the late 1970's or early 80's. <br />
They are missing hood ornaments, most of the handles don't work, the dash is ripped open, the window don't go up or down and the windshields are cracked But they are well loved are painted bright colors to indicate what regions they service. <br />
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We raced down the mountain with four of us crammed into the back of the three seater bright blue Mercedes. The sounds were astonishing, love ballads sung by a powerful woman's voice blared from the crackeling speakers, while an Arab man who was convinced we were from England wanted nothing more than to talk to us (in arabic) about the Chelsea Soccer team and the mofia. <br />
The cab swerved in and out of our lane, sometimes towards on coming traffic, passing busses and multiple mopeds carrying anything from chickens in cages to small children clinging tightly to the cyclist. <br />
<br />
At one moment, as we all reached for something solid to hold our weight down, I drifted away from the ride. The song carried my memory elsewhere, "You were my strength when I was weak, you were my voice when I couldn't speak." <br />
I remembered my mother, playing this song for my father. The song came from our old boom box in the kitchen that was no more. They danced a slow circle on the chipped, earth tone vinyl tile right there in the kitchen, and I watched them, from the corner closest to the stairs. <br />
I was filled with a joy, to be living right then, as mules, marijuana fields and motor scooters became blurs in the window of the speeding taxi to the coast.<br />
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Whiskey Bowlinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10438404986414217873noreply@blogger.com2