After hiking nearly 100 KM on the Via Francigena, and when my toes turned to Fall colours, I stayed in Siena while Kees continued hiking. I had planned a nice little writing retreat in this history city.
As with so much in our lives, this trip, and our interest in it, started with a book. Pompeii by Robert Harris is a fantastic read that has you walking and living in ancient Pompeii, among rich families who have water front homes, who take hot baths, discuss politics and stroll along shops. In the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, it has you hearing the rumblings of the earth with no prior knowledge of such a thing as volcanic eruptions. I found the book riveting since it made me feel as if I was there. And now now we were going there!
Airplanes always feel like time machines to me. As soon you walk off the plane you feel the humidity or the heat, or cold of a new place in a different season. We knew we were in a different place when we disembarked in Bangkok - hot and humid. The international school had arranged for us to stay in a service apartment with much needed air condition.
Along the main highway I spot women carrying babies, bananas and everything in between. Men hail down matatu’s (busses) and cling to the doors. Goats are narrowly missed by the many cars that swerve to avoid potholes. There is red dust and exhaust fumes in the air. When the traffic slows to a crawl you can buy sugar cane to chew or a newspaper or new sunglasses, from all the vendors who walk past the cars. Well outside the city I spot a forlorn herd of zebra, a sad reminder of days when abundant wildlife still roamed these plains. This is Kenya!
Don’t ever think that you’re a pretty suave traveler, because you’ll immediately be punished. I felt that we were doing pretty good - having driven all over Amsterdam, Paris, Brussels, New York; all over Costa Rica. We’d found our way in old Jerusalem and survived Bangkok and Shanghai.
But then we visited Granada.
Mabuhay - welcome, hello, good day in Filipino.
Manila is an amazing jungle of choked roads, high rises and shanty shacks. This is the second time I’m doing author presentations at an international school here. A school driver was waiting for me at the airport and took me straight to the same hotel, Vivére, where I stayed the previous year. On the 31st floor is a restaurant and a roof top pool.
I was going to Bari, Italy to help launch the Italian version of my book Stepping Stones, A Refugee Family’s Journey. But Bari, as it turned out, held even more meaning. It is the city where the bones of Saint Nicholas rest in the Basilica di San Nicholas - the patron saint of sailors and children whose birth (or death?) date we have been celebrating in The Netherlands and traditions which have morfed into all aspects of Santa Claus in North America. Come along on a journey to Italy and through time.
While doing author presentations at an international school in Shanghai, China I have a weekend off. Rather than staying in a hotel room in the city - which is already hazy with air pollution at 6 AM - I decide to take a field trip and book a 2 hour domestic flight to Xi’an - the city made famous by the discovery of terracotta warriors.
We came to Italy to hike a “different camino” - the Via Francigena. Since the 7th century, a passable route across Europe was important to allow for trade, invasions and more. The Italian route crossed the Apennines, followed the Magra Valley and then turned away from the coast towards Lucca - our starting point for this long distance hike across Tuscany.
In response to an invitation to speak at international schools across Asia, I set off on a long trip. My first stop is Seoul, South Korea.
As always, I set my watch for Seoul time right away as my plane departs. If it’s early morning when I arrive, I try to sleep, or at least doze, on the plane. If I get in late at night, I try to stay awake. And taking my No-Jetlag pills helps me to adapt to the time change quickly.
Formerly known as Byzantium, then as Constantinople, and now as Istanbul, the city lies half in Asia and half in Europe. With its roasted chestnut stalls and coffeeshops, Istanbul sometimes feels like Paris. Its narrow streets with patios and trams feel like Amsterdam. But its forest of minarets, shoarma stands and water pipes give it a distinct Middle Eastern feel. Mosques dominate the skyline and the call to prayer twirls out of many minarets, swirling its haunting tunes over the rooftops. Women wear burkas or tight leather pants, hiking boots or high heels. You can buy roasted corn or a Starbucks. Istanbul is a meeting place of east and west. It is the only city in the world that sits on two continents!
