My Mecca

Ever since I was a small boy I felt a strange affinity for a land I'd never seen, a people I'd never known, and a heritage which I only knew by the blood that ran through my veins. When I was 12 I lied to my friends that I had family in the IRA, though at the time I barely knew what connotations that carried, only that I felt it was important and that I wanted some link to my adopted home country. I've always wanted to come to this place and I've only been here for two days, but this already feels more like home than sleeping in that small room with two beds behind San Tomas expressway with a trampoline out one window and Roger the Cat curled up on Luke's bed.

First arriving in Belfast, I felt almost overwhelmed as I began to recognize street names: Kings, Donnegall, Falls, Shankhill. This is where the Troubles raged for so many years, where so many Irishmen gave their lives, some to keep the nation divided and others trying to unite it. Many don't know that it wasn't a battle of religions, Protestant vs. Catholic, but of Politics, Ireland vs. England. The picture above is me in the Falls Road area of Belfast, the Nationalist side, and where I would most definitely have resided had I been there and had to have chosen a side. I would've used the Surnames from my Mom's side, Daly or Burns, though I wouldn't have been a Catholic, and wouldn't have agreed with the violence that was so heavily employed by both sides. They always portray the IRA as terrorists, but the question of one man's freedom fighter being another man's terrorist was ever present in my mind as I walked these streets. I held back tears as I walked the memorial the the IRA and Sinn Fein members who had fallen during the Troubles and as I meditated on the will power of the hunger strikers who died trying to obtain political prisoner status.

Early the next morning, Melody, Jenny, and I headed back to the Falls Road area to the Sinn Fein bookstore where we met a lady who had been shot by a soldier during the 70s when she was simply trying to let other people know that one of the hunger strikers had died. They did so by banging garbage can lids on the ground to call out the people to march in solidarity. A soldier fired a plastic bullet at point blank into her hand, and killed the girl just down the street from her. She referred us to the Irish Republic Museum, run by ex-political prisoners such as Johnny, with whom I'm pictured below. He talked to me about the reasons behind the troubles and showed us a film that summed up the main parts of it. As I watched the film, I recongized parts of the neighborhood around which we had been walking that previous evening and current morning--masked IRA and UVF gunmen patrolling the streets with submachine guns, people walking in protest, and police crackdowns and raids. Understanding the history of the Troubles and of Irish Independence is to understand why people are fighting us in Iraq, why so many have fought imperialists, and the importance of recognizing the will of the people and their ability to organize autonomous nations, among so many other issues. Belfast was stirring.

We set out for Coleraine to meet up with the wonderful Ms. Tori Harris who is doing an internship at the University there. After picking her up from the train station we headed to the Antrim Coast where we played around in ancient castles, ran around on the Giants' Causeway, made new friends, drove on the left side of the road, dumpster dived, at ice cream, did handstands (well, I did anyway), and were in general awe of the absolute beauty that is Ireland. Jenny summed it up best when she said, "This is Heaven." If I thought I wanted to live in Switzerland, it was only because I'd never been here before. It wasn't as mentally challenging/stimulating/stirring as Belfast's history, but it was the most beautiful landscape I've ever beheld.


It only continued to get better as today we drove down to Galway which turned out to be one of the worst driving experiences of my life. Try to imagine tiny two way streets with cars parked on them so that it's basically a one-lane two-way street, crowded beyond belief thought it was only midday, with pedestrians darting left and right, twists and turns that led to random one way streets and do not enter signs, no immediate parking in sight, and this all with a stick shift at my left side, my steering wheel on the right side of the car, and all of us on the left side of the road. It is a miracle that we have avoided all accidents. I will rival Jason Bourne in driving ability by the end of this trip. So, after passing a few trucks that should NEVER have been driving on tiny country roads due to size, load, and inability to pass almost anything without only going 20 km/h, after speeding due to having to wait behind said trucks, and after some amazing views with handstacked rock fences that partitioned the most luscious green countryside you'll ever see from here to the afterlife, we finally made it to the ferry to Inish Mor of the Aran Islands. If I thought that the Giant's Causeway and the North Coast were amazing, this place blew me away. We biked all over, which was the best workout of this whole trip, and ended up at Dun Aengus, a Iron/Bronze age fort overlooking 300 foot sheer cliffs. Look at the pictures. I didn't attempt a handstand here. I did hang out over the edge as much as I could. I don't know why I have this ridiculous obsession with heights.

So Ireland is amazing. If I never make it back to the United States, this will be why. I'll find some job at a hostel here, marry some French girl who's lived in Ireland since a little girl so that she has the right accent, and live in the land that I've dreamed of since I was just a wee lad. Enjoy this last video, I have plenty more for when I get back. To me those cliffs were the end of the world, the place where my feet were meant to find the end of their travels, at least in finding that contentment and heritage and homeland that I've longed for since before I can remember. My home, at last.

I will own a European vehicle.

Okay, first off let me apologize that pictures will not be accessible for this portion of the blog, and it's really a shame because some of the most incredible pictures yet are in this batch. Having Melody along to take photos is such a blessing. She's also been a great source of knowledge, good company and conversation, and just a comfort, though she's had to put up with me. I've become so introspective and meditating. It's probably the result of having traveled on my own for almost a month and having stretches of hours where I don't say more than a few words.

France is honestly amazing, though the country, as with all places, has its share of faults. I almost feel like Voltaire whose book I am currently reading and happens to be his thoughts on his three years in England. Only a fleeting week has passed for me to analyze and try to take in more than a thousand years of culture, architecture, cuisine, and beautiful villages. Melody and I have flown around Paris and the surrounding country side in our little Renault and I can say one thing for sure about driving in France--It is SO MUCH fun. I even drove around the Arc de Triomphe and up the Champs Elysees. We had a whirlwind tour by car of the Opera Garnier, the Madeleine, the Place de la Concorde, the Louvre, le Centre Pompidou, and other sites. I have to get myself one of these little cars. They're amazing.

I want to talk a little about my birthday, probably one of the most unforgettable days of my life, let alone birthdays. It started out with wonderful letters from friends and family that buoyed me and gave me a lot of peace. As an appetizer to the day, we toured le Musee d'Orsay, my new favorite museum, where I fell more deeply in love with impressionism and art in general. We went to church at the Paris branch where I felt a great amount of peace after not having been able to make it to church for over a month. From there went out to Versailles, famous for its luxury, gardens, and painted ceilings and walls. I have to be honest when I say that it only helped me to more deeply understand why the people dragged Marie Antoinette and Louis to la Place de la Concorde to feed them to Madame Guillotine. How can you live in such a place when your people go starving? I'll reserve further thoughts on this topic for personal conversations. The real blessing of Versailles was that we had recently found out that President Uchtdorf would be giving a fireside that night, so we went and got wonderful seats. The meeting strengthened my testimony of the gospel and the leadership of the church. What wonderful men we have at the head of the Church of Jesus Christ. I was in more...humble...clothes than most of the rest because of my status as a traveler, but as the meeting ended I walked towards an exit that appeared to be in the direction he would exit and we were able to shake his hand and greet him. Way cool birthday. There's more, but it involves getting a bit lost in the French countryside, a lot of rain, our proposed hotel being closed, and not finding a place to stay until 2:30 am. Unforgettable =).

The rest of the French countryside involves Mont Saint Michel, D-day Beaches, Ponte du Hoc, tiny french towns, Caen, Roeun, Bayeux and its tapestry (amazing and way good audio guide), and Giverny. That's very brief, I know, and you're probably wondering what all those places are or what significance they have, but that will be explained in person so as to save you time reading.

I'm now in Ireland. This place is my Mecca, but that will be saved for later. A preview will be the Irish flag flying in Belfast, Falls Road, and a monument to fallen IRA soldiers. If you don't know the significance of those, PLEASE go read something on the troubles and Irish Nationalism. Please. This place is almost holy ground to me. Until next time.

Who wants to move to Switzerland? That would be me.

I've been in Switzerland for the last week and it's been almost an enchanting experience. Ireland, Scotland, and England, especially Ireland, still have the possibility of trumping this land as my future place of residence, but I've already been investigating into how one gets to move to this amazing country. Switzerland is apparently even more strict on immigration than we are in the United States, and I even heard yesterday while canyoning that the only way for a non-European to get a work visa is to prove that you're going to do a job that no Swiss person can/will do. Our photographer joked that for the most part this consists of being a rafting or canyoning guide, or working at Hooters, which no Swiss girl will do. The photographer was living and working here because, though originally from New York, she had an Irish passport. One of our guides was from New Hampshire but told me that he had married a Swiss girl. Eventually he lost the Swiss girl but got to keep the Swiss passport. So my options, as of now, are to obtain citizenship to some other European country first, or to marry a Swiss girl. Frankly, she'd probably have to be from the more French side of the country because the German side...

So my trip started in Geneva, which is almost a strange little outlet of Switzerland into France. The mountains you see around on almost every side are all French, though Claude (my host) says that the region is slowly becoming very integrated and that they are even working towards borderless transportation where French people (and thus anyone entering from France) won't have to show their passport upon entering, and Swiss people won't have to do so when going to France. I rather like the idea. Geneva is a beautiful and rather peaceful city. The weather was mostly cloudy while I was there, but because it's located right on Lac Leman the clouds appear even more blue than normal, and it provides for a city experience that reminded me more of Seattle, though with less hills and night life. I don't mind the absence of either as there are visible hills off in the distance and I don't party, which has consistently drawn surprise, respect, and curiosity from everyone I visit. Luckily enough, this is a great city for those seeking culture instead of discotheques. I visited a museum of the Reformation as Geneva was where John Calvin settled and did most of his preaching and pot-stirring. It was fascinating, impressive, and even disturbing. I knew about a decent amount of the history already, but had never poked my nose into the Wars of Religion which were so fiercely fought between the Catholics and Protestants, though given the history of Ireland I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised.

After the Museum of the Reformation, I wandered into the former Catholic cathedral that had been converted into a Protestant church. The contrast between the two types of buildings was a unique experience as I walked past the familiar facades of a Catholic cathedral, but absent of the images and saints that normally adorn their walls. I felt a peace there quite different from the apprehension I normally find in the ornate Catholic counterpart. From the towers, which were a fun climb, I was able to see all of Geneva, though from pictures you'd think I was only interested in rooftops. Those get even better the farther east you go as you get into the more German parts of Switzerland. From the cathedral I went to La Maison Tavel, a 14th century mansion that has since been turned into a museum of Genevan history and felt like stepping back into Medeival time. That's been one of the wonders of this trip, I get to be an explorer and time traveler to some degree. La Maison Tavel is home to things as simple as old pots used for washing and cooking, to massive guns that would make any NRA member drool, to ornate doors with knockers that appear to have come straight from a Dickens' novel. Best of all, it was free, and on the top floor they had a HUGE model of Geneva as it was in 1500 that would've made my brother, Luke, reel with delight.

Wandering streets has easily been my favorite activity on this trip. The old town is a treat with its half-French, half-German rooftops and architecture, relaxing green parks that have giant chessboards where bored, old men play (they more kick pieces around than actually move them...it's really fun to watch), and air that seems to let you take a breathe of history and culture.

The center of Geneva is very business-like with everyone running around in suits and wearing the same chic glasses that seem to be the rage in Europe (I'll be honest...I kind of want some myself as I think they'd make me look quite a bit more sophisticated...). Claude told me that almost 60% of the city's population is foreign because of the international businesses and the UN presence. I heard quite a bit of English as I made my way across bridges and through the city. The country runs mainly on the financial service and pharmeceutical industries, but as all probably know, the Swiss are also famous for their cheese, chocolate, and watches.

Speaking of watches, my next stop was the Patek and Phillipe watch museum. It was one of the most elegant (almost overdone) museums I've ever walked into, and felt like more of a Fortune 100 business or 5 star hotel than a museum. Even the staff acted snootier than in other places. Two things impressed me about the museum. The first was how incredible the tiny mechanizations were with all sorts of cogs and wheels and springs, especially in the Automata pieces that, again, would have had my brother reeling. Sorry, Luke, no pictures allowed, though I'm sure if these things didn't exist, you'd be the first to figure out how to do them. Really, the ingenuity behind them was astounding. They even had the world's most complicated clock there which could tell you the date of Easter up to the year 2018, the position of the stars in the Heavens according to the time, and a great deal of other things beyond normal clock activity (it actually had a rotating display of the stars). The second thing to strike me was how ridiculously extravagant and ornate these timepieces were and how all of the wealth and technology put into these could be used to do so much good to help solve all sorts of world problems. I won't get onto a pedestal, but you can imagine where this would run...

I had similar thoughts when I visited the U.N. the next day. This portion will actually be quite short as the tour was quite sugar-coated and superficial and mostly involved me refraining from asking questions about the ineptitude of this near 'universal body of nations' as it was described. Our guide said that over 8,400 meetings occured at the Geneva offices of the UN each year and I again had to keep myself from asking why they didn't get more done. I'll admit that the UN, especially the ideology of it, has its merits, and perhaps I should focus more on finding those merits than simply pointing out its faults without offering any solutions of my own. The most fun I had while there was seeing the protests outside the main building against the UN's financial support of Ethiopia whose dictoator is apparently not very respectful of human rights. The other highlight was seeing two statues: The first was of a chair with one of the legs destroyed representing the atrocity of land mines, and the second was an old anti-aircraft cannon with the turret bent in a knot, the message being quite clear and one of which I am in full support. My thoughts dwelled on alternative solutions to resolve conflicts, promte international trade and cultural exchange, and how to end bigotry, discrimination and unrighteous judging in all their forms. It also struck me as strangely hypocritical that a city so interested in human rights and ending all forms of human trafficking would still allow legalized prostitution. One young man, who was working for the hostel where I stayed, tried to justify it by saying that they didn't allow any forced forms of prostitutions, or deception with it, but really, it's just completely immoral, crass, and degrading in every way, shape, and form. In no way is it respectful of femeninity or human dignity. He did make a good point that the U.S., despite being very conservative with respect to what we show on TV or in public, is still home to the largest pornography industry, by far, in the world. Oh so many problems to deal with and only a lifetime in which to do so.

So, finally, I get to Interlaken and immediately start swooning. I don't have canyoning until the last day, and so have 3 days to wander around Interlaken and its surrounding areas, all at the feet of the Alps. Mountains are found all over the world, and I've seen them in the US and Peru, and they're always quite impressive, but none shoot up out of the ground and into the clouds and beyond like these. Unfortunately for me, the weather only allowed the peaks to occasionally sneak through and reveal their stunning slopes. The weather, however, was perfect for hiking as it deterred most other adventurers, kept things relatively cool, and added a mystique to the forest and hills that it wouldn't have otherwise had. I kept wondering if Mr. Thomas from Narnia would pop out of the trees and offer me a cup of tea. No, really, it was that cool. On the first day, doing a circuit from Grindelwald, I got to a point where it was just me, a few cows, and the occasional chalet, abandoned until later in the summer season. After stepping into the forest there was absolutely no one. It was one of the most serene and peaceful experiences of my life. I eventually found a tiny restaurant, which had actually been labeled on the map as a town though it was the only building in sight. It was the first day they were open, just the owner and a helper, and I was their only customer. Normally you have a prime view of the alps, but I got only bits and pieces, mostly clouds, and the owner gave me a postcard of what the view was normally like, though that may have only deepened my mixed feelings towards the weather.

The next day I set out for Trummelbach and Gimmelwald (where I would survey land for a future summer home...only half joking). I got off the train at Lauterbrunnen and strolled through a narrow valley filled with meadows of amazing floral diversity, cows and sheeps complete with melodic bells, and the typical Swiss homes filled with Swiss people.

Trummelbach is the emptying channel for three major glaciers and is essentially a series of waterfalls cut INTO the mountain side. You can't see them from the valley because they really are inside of the mountain. There are apparently more like them in Europe, but these are the only ones where you can actually see them. They are one of the most impressive natural phenomena I've ever beheld and they prompted a whole host of thoughts about the shaping power of water and related gospel symbolism. I won't get into that here, but it was a moving and powerful experience.

The hike to Gimmelwald was along a narrow and steep valley, also cut out by glacier runoff, and was a 2000 foot steep ascent. Upon arriving at the top, I quickly found a small bed and breakfast where I bought a sandwich and three containers of delicious homemade yogurt (vanilla, strawberry, and apricot). That was probably the best yogurt I've ever had. I took the easy way back by using cable cars and lifts where I was lucky enough to meet two American women from North Carolina and Virginia who were traveling Switzerland for a little over a week. We went from Gimmelwald to Murren and then back down to Lauterbrunnen, and this side really was my favorite part of the Alps and the Swiss leg of the journey. It was absolutely beautiful.

I'm almost done, I swear. The following day I went canyoning, though I was downgraded (as was everyone else) from the most intense trip to the second trip because the water levels were too high and thus too dangerous. I'm sure Mom will appreciate that. So really, the trip was just a taste of canyoning, and I loved it, but I wanted about 5 hours more, with bigger jumps, slides, and more repelling. Adventure sports may be more prominent in the future.

I'm now in Bern and will leave Switzerland for France tomorrow. It's been an amazing stay and I realize that this ending is rather anti-climactic, so try to imagine it with a huge symphony orchestra playing some thunderous Bach, a laser light show, dancing pandas, and whatever else you need to make it AWESOME. Because that's what Switzerland was for me. Awesome.

The French Riviera and Relaxation

Just so you know, the title of the blog is translated as "Happy is he who like Ulysses has made a good journey." I was trying to think of a name for this blog when I stumbled upon a mosaic with that title on the top of the Chateau hill in Nice and it seemed completely appropriate. The above video is from Nice and isn't quite the quality I was hoping. I'm sorry about how incredibly deep I always forget my voice is.

I arrived in Montpelier this morning by train, and with a 2 hour break wandered out into the city. Is it possible to fall in love with tiny streets, ornate balconies, and an atmosphere dominated by outside eateries and cafes? The air here just feels different and more exciting. The bread has a perfect crunch to the outside and is delicious and soft on the inside. I later ate a whole baguette because it was just that good...plus I was walking in the Mediterranean...barefoot...and it just seemed such an ideal thing to do.

After Montpelier, a French sandwich, and a short train ride later, I was in Marseilles where my host Antoine greeted me. He spoke very good English, was actually born in Vietnam but had lived in Marseilles since he was a year old, and plays the guitar really well, though only covers (he wishes he could write his own stuff but insists that he's tried to learn that way and can't). He had two other couch surfers, Josh and Frederique (from Montreal), staying with him. Josh is an amazing guitar player and Frederique had such a cute, tiny voice that people kept asking here if she were sick. They were a lot of fun and I went with them and Antoine to the highland cliffs, Cassis (a small port town outside of Marseilles where we just walked around), and then on a walk along the Mediterranean. I've never seen water so blue. I took a nap and it felt beyond relaxing. Who needs a spa.

Later, Antoine, Josh, and I met up with some of Antoine's friends and played soccer. I actually got complimented on my play and all of Antoine's friends were very funny and kind. Most spoke English and asked me questions about my trip, why I was in Peru for two years, Angie, Melody, and some other things. We later met up at a French restaurant where I tried, among other things, frog legs, sea snail, and fried squid. I actually thought all of them were pretty good, though I don't think I'd pay money for the first two (I actually did buy the fried squid and it was amazing).

I haven't been so wrapped up here in observing human nature and our follies, which observations have been punctuated by my reading in Gulliver's Travels and Swift's rapier wit and stabs at politics, law, and general human weakness. I've been seeing a lot of the positive as well though. People in France take more time to enjoy life. You can tell that they love their food as even supermarkets still focus on fresh food and bread...and wine. The preparation of your own aliments is emphasized and the frozen and and microwaveable sections occupy only a small corner of stores. People seem to prefer conversation and strolls through the park to T.V., video games, and other typical American activities. Transportation more involves bikes, walking, and public transportation so that you have less noise pollution and more the sounds of birds chirping, children playing soccer in the street, and French women chatting about who knows what in vibrant tones.

Everything seems more artistic, more full of character. I sat in a small park surrounded by aged buildings and stone walls. Paint was fading from red and yellow apartment fronts, but more as if drawn from an impressionist painting than flaking and rusting away. You find cafes in a courtyard in front of a cathedral nearly a thousand years old, and fortitifactions used during the War of Spanish Succession. I can't imagine the people of this place finding as much fascination in the United States as I do here and I hope that they don't take their surroundings for granted. I can see why Europeans scoff at the notion of Americans having culture, though it's still not very nice.

So, I've found peace in this place and my thoughts again begin to wonder to wishes that I were an explorere traveling to new lands in a time when there was still land to discover and great tales to bring back to the homeland. The Mediterranean appears endless, but I know that Africa lies just beyond the horizon and it gives me a sense of what sailors who first sighted new land must have felt like in announcing it, in meeting new natives and hearing new tongues, in bringing back strange and exotic artifacts, and in setting out again in search of new frontiers. I think I actually dreamt of being in the Indiana Jones movie last night...

For now, I leave you with one of my favorite pictures of the trip. This, to me, is the essence of relaxation. With that, I set out into Geneva and will update you soon as to my findings in Switzerland. Au revoir.