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Most of these photos were taken in Portugal (Part 1)
Same with these (Part 2)
April 30, 2008
pine cones in the belltower
Europe is old, in case you didn't know. All signs of man are thick with a sense of a history. The wall behind me isn't just a wall. Before it was a university, it was a cigar factory. The cathedral windows across the street differ in architecture styles as your gaze goes upward. The dark curve of Gothic, the mystical weave of Islam, the proud arch of Roman Catholic, stacked atop each other in different shades of brick. The building itself is a testament to the universality of religion, of man's need to build upward, of the scars of past occupations and war.
The oak trees in Portugal's countryside are half-shaven of their bark. A biologist picks me up, explains the cork can be harvested every nine years without harming the tree. They save forests in this manner, it's sustainable, and they've been doing it for decades.
"This one is an old forest, in fact." he says.
"How old do you think?" I wonder.
"Maybe even two hundred years."
Substantial, sure. But I laughed. In Oregon and in California, our "old forests" are eternal, timeless bastions of nature, strangers to industry. Individual trees are thousands of years old, and as tall as cathedral towers.
Maybe history isn't progress so much as a territory trade, a flip-flop of a timeline. One or the other's not really old, it's only the exchange of one well of time for another.
The oak trees in Portugal's countryside are half-shaven of their bark. A biologist picks me up, explains the cork can be harvested every nine years without harming the tree. They save forests in this manner, it's sustainable, and they've been doing it for decades.
"This one is an old forest, in fact." he says.
"How old do you think?" I wonder.
"Maybe even two hundred years."
Substantial, sure. But I laughed. In Oregon and in California, our "old forests" are eternal, timeless bastions of nature, strangers to industry. Individual trees are thousands of years old, and as tall as cathedral towers.
Maybe history isn't progress so much as a territory trade, a flip-flop of a timeline. One or the other's not really old, it's only the exchange of one well of time for another.
April 21, 2008
April 14, 2008
April 11, 2008
sacred things
Yesterday, I lost my cross. It had hung from my neck for nine years. The chain must have snapped and the silvery crucifix must have fallen somewhere between Andorra and Barcelona. I've felt a little naked since, like a little hole hangs from my neck. To lose it was to lose a little of my identity and I'm faltering at the prospect of moving forward. Do I buy an exact replica and pretend it didn't happen? Do I update it to reflect the morphing of my beliefs?
This religious talk may make people uncomfortable, you could say, "this isn't church," or "this has nothing to do with travel." But that's not how it is with me. Being with God and being on the road go hand-in-hand in my conception of the world. You could say the highway is my church. The proofs of some kind of miraculous help are abundant, and the blessings only pour in easier when you open your life to a little uncertainty. I know it seems tongue-in-cheek sometimes, but I really firmly believe this divine exchange is best achieved by not planning so much - give God some room to work in! Jennifer is truly excellent at not planning, and traveling with her has been just as how I like to travel by myself, except now I have all the benefits of a best friend along for the ride.
She talks to me in Spanish and encourages me to learn more. We share exotic cheeses, fruits, bagettes. We saunter down strange streets hand-in-hand. She's sitting next to me as I type now, and I haven't a thing but good thoughts for her - even though we've been together virtually non-stop since I touched down in Madrid four days ago. We're officially dating now, by the way, so there can at last be an end to the ambiguity.
It's Friday now. I've been here since Monday, and we're been on the go this entire time. We've passed through tiny towns and tiny countries. We've just arrived in Sevilla and a feista is brewing just outside the window of this computer lab.
I'll probably stay here with Jenn for a few days - perhaps - then go somewhere else - perhaps. Don't wanna quite have it planned out yet. I'll let my yearning spirit be my guide, listen for the whistling winds of opportunity, and keep searching for that thing I always seem to be on the look out for.
And I hope some weary, wandering traveler, deep in a hole of doubt, spots a faint silvery glint in the dirt, and finds my cross alongside a little faith, or at least a little wonder.
This religious talk may make people uncomfortable, you could say, "this isn't church," or "this has nothing to do with travel." But that's not how it is with me. Being with God and being on the road go hand-in-hand in my conception of the world. You could say the highway is my church. The proofs of some kind of miraculous help are abundant, and the blessings only pour in easier when you open your life to a little uncertainty. I know it seems tongue-in-cheek sometimes, but I really firmly believe this divine exchange is best achieved by not planning so much - give God some room to work in! Jennifer is truly excellent at not planning, and traveling with her has been just as how I like to travel by myself, except now I have all the benefits of a best friend along for the ride.
She talks to me in Spanish and encourages me to learn more. We share exotic cheeses, fruits, bagettes. We saunter down strange streets hand-in-hand. She's sitting next to me as I type now, and I haven't a thing but good thoughts for her - even though we've been together virtually non-stop since I touched down in Madrid four days ago. We're officially dating now, by the way, so there can at last be an end to the ambiguity.
It's Friday now. I've been here since Monday, and we're been on the go this entire time. We've passed through tiny towns and tiny countries. We've just arrived in Sevilla and a feista is brewing just outside the window of this computer lab.
I'll probably stay here with Jenn for a few days - perhaps - then go somewhere else - perhaps. Don't wanna quite have it planned out yet. I'll let my yearning spirit be my guide, listen for the whistling winds of opportunity, and keep searching for that thing I always seem to be on the look out for.
And I hope some weary, wandering traveler, deep in a hole of doubt, spots a faint silvery glint in the dirt, and finds my cross alongside a little faith, or at least a little wonder.
April 6, 2008
There's
There's an ancient labyrinth below NYC. You have to run this gauntlet of mind-bending terror to escape the isle. There was a minotaur.
April 5, 2008
trans it
I probably should have typed out a hearty post between when I arrived in Syracuse a few days ago and right now. However, I did not do this.
But yeah, I made it. The trip from Oregon to Syracuse took about $400 (mostly gas), and covered 4667 miles. Yes, I drove one extra mile when I got here. I had no car trouble whatsoever though, good ol' Bessie.
Now, I'm about to get on a bus which will take me to Manhattan, where I'll get on the subway system which will take me to JFK int'l airport, where I'll get on some sort of shuttle supposedly, which will take me to a plane which will take me across the Atlantic Ocean to Dublin and another plane which will take me to Spain. Totally not complicated at all.
Truth be told, I think modern transportation is pretty incredible, and I hope the rest of my generation has the good sense to marvel a little at how easy it has become to traverse our blue pearl.
This blog is going to take a turn now, since I won't be able to update from my cell phone anymore, I'll have to upload pictures and posts directly from libraries or internet cafes and the like, which may or may not be frequently available.
Hope you've all been enjoying this space so far - I'll see you on the other side.
But yeah, I made it. The trip from Oregon to Syracuse took about $400 (mostly gas), and covered 4667 miles. Yes, I drove one extra mile when I got here. I had no car trouble whatsoever though, good ol' Bessie.
Now, I'm about to get on a bus which will take me to Manhattan, where I'll get on the subway system which will take me to JFK int'l airport, where I'll get on some sort of shuttle supposedly, which will take me to a plane which will take me across the Atlantic Ocean to Dublin and another plane which will take me to Spain. Totally not complicated at all.
Truth be told, I think modern transportation is pretty incredible, and I hope the rest of my generation has the good sense to marvel a little at how easy it has become to traverse our blue pearl.
This blog is going to take a turn now, since I won't be able to update from my cell phone anymore, I'll have to upload pictures and posts directly from libraries or internet cafes and the like, which may or may not be frequently available.
Hope you've all been enjoying this space so far - I'll see you on the other side.
April 2, 2008
Atop
Atop an adjacent dune, I notice someone accidentally put an ocean where this lake was supposed to go.
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