The Geneva Lake Shore Path, luckily, is right around the corner from our home. I have the year-round delight to walk the Geneva Lake Shore Path, a jewel of a resource in Southern Wisconsin. The natural beauty, the quiet, the diversity of surroundings all contribute to my enjoyment. 27 miles of path ring the seven-mile
“Travel to Bologna, Italy. Stay with your good friend. Come during Trufflefest!” How could I resist this invitation from my travel buddy? The option looked like a slam dunk. Of course I should take this chance to see a new city with a close friend at a unique time. Doubt crept in. Perhaps I shouldn’t.
Living arrangements come in all shapes, sizes, and distances from one another. “What? I can’t hear you,” I yelled back, hoping my partner might make out my response through shared walls. We were learning to communicate in our new living arrangement — two small condominium units, next door but not connected, with access through the
“Why do you travel?” I asked brightly at 7 am the first day of our safari. My travel buddies stared back sleepily and my partner groaned. I had asked a question to a group of travelers who weren’t ready for anything verbal at that hour. But they managed to answer briefly, “Why wouldn’t I?” and
Good Hope students work hard to learn with the support from a strong community in Moshi, Tanzania. Floors dusty with red clay, a chalk board that barely shows the chalk marks, and books dog-earred from over use. You’ve seen classrooms like this from around the world. They offer little in materials compared to those
Part 3 of 3 Part 1: Inside a Refugee Camp: What I Saw Surprised and Haunted Me Part 2: Middle East, Islam, and Veils: It’s Time I Took Responsibility for My Knowledge Three fashionably dressed refugee women spoke to one another in soft shaken tones at the women’s center. Occasionally one of them broke into tears and another would
(Part two of three parts) First part: Inside a Refugee Camp — What I Saw Surprised and Haunted Me Who are the Middle East families who live in the tents and containers of the Chios Refugee Camp? I did my best impersonation of a woman from the Middle East dancing. I wasn’t very good if
(Part one of three parts) The refugee camp in Chios, Greece, looked peaceful and yet Jeanie, our center’s manager, pointed out, “Here is where the molotov cocktails were thrown onto the refugees last winter.” We stood on the paved-over drawbridge of a medieval castle, looking into the moat below. The thought of entering a refugee
Sunday in Athens — most businesses remained closed. My travel partner and I walked the major thoroughfare. We passed shop after shop, each metal security door shut tight, its corrugated surface tagged with bold words and images. On the street corners, trash bins overflowed. Small city projects lay unfinished. Greece is in a financial
I’m in travel panic — counting today, I’ve 14 days until our departure overseas. I know the minute I board the plane, my anxiety will diminish, and I’ll relax into the travel. For now, I’ve scribbled notes on too many non-sequential pages in my notebook and find myself too often with a shallow short breath.