Category Archives: Travel Photos

Painted mailbox

Day 5 was a day of rest in Pescadero

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Blustery wind arrived

making it a perfect day to hang in a cafe in Pescadero, drink coffee, eat pizza, and just plain rest.

Here area few pixs from the day . . .

After returning to camp, I found a moment to be alone in the quiet . . . every once in a while the wind would arrive to say HELLO in a frenzy gust of coolness.

. . . and that’s all she wrote . . . for now. : )

More to come about Day 5.

-Sj out

California Fence Romance

Photo highlights from Day 4 – Half Moon Bay to Pescadero State Beach (15.8 miles : )

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Pescadeo, California.

When you visit the state beach page, you’ll get the idea that there’s ONE beach. That ain’t so! How do I know? We walked to the first one, thought, “Yahoo!” only to find out that we needed to walk to the NEXT one!

This particular day started out fairly sunny. After a brief stint of fog (and a beautiful fog bow : ), the sun shook itself and chased all the fog away. But with that shake came a gradual build up of wind. As it became windier and windier, the number of walkers began to decrease until there were only four of us trudging along California’s Highway 1. By the end, we were bowed over into crescent moons, doing our best to keep the sand and dirt out of our eyes, mouths, noses, and ears. That’s why there aren’t any photos during this phase of the walk.

When we reached that second Pescadero State Beach park, we sighed a powerful group sigh which almost matched the dusty breeze. We were quickly swept into support vehicles and transported to the small town cafe, where we either drank coffee, beer, or wine : )

Next stop and our home for two nights?  Butano State Park.

Here are da pix!

Popsicle and feet

Photo highlights from Day 3 – Pacifica to Half Moon Bay State Beach (13 miles : )

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Day 3’s highlight (for me) were the Popsicles at the end!

Fav’s below:

ASL Walk Day 2 Yellow Flower

Photo Hightlights from Day 2 – San Francisco Zoo to Oceana High School in Pacifica (7.38 miles : )

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Here are my fav’s from Day 2 of the Walk for ASL.

Enjoy!

-Sj

ASL Walking Team

Photo Highlights from Day 1 of ASL Walk from San Francisco (Sausalito) to Los Angeles (10 miles : )

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After several months of back-and-forthing on our private facebook page (what to pack, what we all eat and don’t eat, where to meet, etc. ) the Walk for ASL began!

We gathered at Ft. Baker in Sausalito, California (just over the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco).

Below is a slide show of my photos from that day.

Enjoy!

-Sj

Basel Courtyard

Aloha from Geneva!

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There was an hour layover between trains, so I ventured outside Basel's Bahnhof to inspect the many wires.
There was an hour layover between trains, so I ventured outside Basel’s Bahnhof to inspect the many wires.

Dear Friends,

Hope you’re all well and happy.

Yesterday evening I arrived in Geneva where I’m staying with the most darling 84-year man who I know through Tony’s family. He’s on sabbatical at CERN for a year and got a special pass for me to go there during my stay. It’s sunny and cold here, very beautiful in fact.

Best wishes for a lovely February. Happy Valentine’s day in advance. : )

With warm aloha,

-S j

p.s. I managed to upload some pictures from my recent 3-week stay in Berlin . . . then I lost them, and THEN, a few years later, I was able to repost them here. Enjoy.

Berlin cement sign

Berlin’s “Taylor Camp”

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Last week I parked my friend’s bike under a construction platform* and went inside a corner restaurant that Tony and I had noticed in December. (At the time, they’d advertised a German language poetry reading; my husband in an I’ll appeal to her sensibilities frame of mind had suggested it as one of our evening activities; something else ended up rising to the forefront of our minds instead.) I ordered the Senfeier** and then struck up a conversation with the waitress as I asked her about the shadow theater that was taking place in the restaurant’s basement on the upcoming Saturday.

“Do you do shadow puppetry?” she asked.***
“No,” I replied.
“But the theater? Are you involved with theater?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Ich auch,” she quickly stated.
“You’re involved in theater too? Kool. Do you know of anything going on over the next few weeks where I could help out?”
“Hmm,” she thought for a moment, “No, but my mind’s been preoccupied since I’m going to Barcelona next week; I’m going to stay for four months.”
“Oh?” And something made me ask, “Are you from there?”
“Yes.”
It ends up that there’s a rather large community of people from Spain (particularly Barcelona based on my limited experience) who live in Berlin. Why? The cost of living is a lot less expensive. Many Spaniards do learn and speak German, but many don’t as well. How do they get by? Why with Englisch, of course! It’s the Latin of today’s world.*iv
“But oh,” she said suddenly, “there is something going on that you can participate in this coming Friday. It’s called Widersprüchliche Abend. Do you know what that means? It means that people contradict each other; that’s the focus of the evening’s activity. This week’s theme is: Ich bin nicht du.” (I’m not you.)
Sounds great, I thought, and with that I proceeded to ask her to kindly write the address in my little black book. She also wrote, “New Yorck.” Oh, I thought, that must be the setting of where one person isn’t another, New York.
My lunch came, and we ended our conversation.
Berlin egg potato mealBerlin eggs and potatoes
When Friday arrived, I prepared myself by using my new tried-and-true traveling navigation system, I googled the address, entered the corresponding “starting from” information and clicked “Route berechnen.” The next step, while in Hamburg, had been to write down the key direction notes on a scrap piece of paper. I then held it in my hand as I rode the bike from point A to B to C as the paper quickly became a wadded mess. Here, I have the extremely convenient privilege of using a printer. After making a few such print-outs, I’ve found that I usually simply need to make a note of the wheres and whens, using my new internal guide as the foundation to build upon.
Okay, it looked pretty easy, I thought. And with that I set off in the direction of Mariannenplatz 2.
As I rode up the bumpy Mariannestraße, I slowly became aware that I was entering a large circular complex of buildings. Number eight, six, four, two. That was easy! There was a crowd of people mingling outside smoking and laughing. Cool, I thought, looks like I’ll meet some more people.
But once I went inside, I only found a rather hip looking restaurant and the opening night of an art exhibition *v, but no one who knew about a Widersprüchlihe Abend.
Okay, I’ll just mingle for bit, I thought. I went into several different rooms and saw an assorted collection of all kinds of oddities: a completely dark room with LPs scattered along the floor (I could see them because someone gave me a flashlight to use so that I could see a little), a pallet covered with an assortment of video editing equipment from the mid to late 80’s when Tony and I began our production company (3/4” decks, Betacam tapes, etc. It looked like someone had gone into our studio and simply taken some of our machinery and put it on display!) Yes, a classic modern art type of exhibition.
Honestly, it wasn’t that compelling; so I bought a beer from a temporary stand set-up for visitors and continued to wander about in this massive two-story building. While upstairs in an empty wing, I happened upon two other people looking equally lost. Widersprüchlihe Abend? I asked. New Yorck, the female replied.
So in the way that people confidently set about to find an answer once they’re no longer alone, we proceeded to find a guard who directed us to exit the building at its main entrance, go around to the right, and there we would find New Yorck.
With beer in hand, I set out into the freezing cold with my new friends. The building was huge, so just around the corner took a good 2-minutes to reach. But lo and behold, there was New Yorck spray-painted upon the side of the building (along with all other types of things). We climbed the stairs and immediately felt that we were in the right place.
Tacheles art house Berlin
Inside the art house Tacheles
We had entered a world a million miles away from the yuppie vibe just on the other side of the thick walls. Graffiti covered almost every square inch of the flaking interior. There was a 3 Euro entrance fee which the kind waitress had told me about; it was being collected for the inhabitants of another building in the circular courtyard that had caught fire in December. Fortunately for the residents, that particular wing still stood, but the electricity needed to be replaced. Otherwise, I was told, Widersprüchlihe Abends are normally free.
In lieu of the standard stamp that one normally receives upon entrance to a paid event, I had the nail of my third finger painted a hideous yellow. “Wow,” I said, “That’s a first for me.”
“For me too,” she replied, as she held my hand and painted my nail. She then pointed to a pile of stamps in all shapes and sizes. “They’re all kaput. I just happened to have this polish on hand . . .”
Pretty innovative, I thought; though when I could clearly see the color later, I wondered how it was that she just happened to have this particularly hideous color on hand. And yes, of course she wouldn’t want to waste one that she really liked.
So what happened next?
There were maybe 20 people lounging on an assortment of dilapidated couches and chairs along the very wide hallway. A few feet further there was a bar where I later purchased a large bottle of beer brewed in Berlin. Just past the bar was a room where a video was being projected upon the wall. I crossed in front of about 10 people who were lounging on an assortment of chairs and stools and took a seat on what I realized must sometimes be the stage. As I got comfy and began to listen, I realized that the film had been shot in this complex. Hmm, it must have taken place in the early 70s, I thought. I recognized the hair and clothing style from when I was a kid. Intently following what they were saying (it was in German with English subtitles), I realized that the buildings that comprised the circular courtyard had been taken over by this group of young people (being interviewed). They were squatters who had formed their own community comprised of self-made rules and a practical system of organization for preparing meals, buying food, etc. It was essentially Berlin’s version of Kaua‘i’s Taylor Camp.
Berlin wall at the east side gallery
The East Side Gallery: three-quarters of a mile of the Berlin wall remains near the Ost Bahnhof (East train station).
During the evening I also learned that the complex had once been a hospital. When the wall was erected in Berlin in the early 1960s, it crossed very closely to these buildings, which were located in East Berlin.
East side gallery wall in Berlin
The East Side Gallery wall.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Kaua‘i phenomena, you can read about it here: http://taylorcampkauai.com/.
Once the film ended, it was casually announced that the contradictory evening would continue shortly with some music and an assortment of acts. I parked myself on a comfortable chair, now facing the stage and where I’d previously sat. Three different musical groups performed.
First came a fairly standard trio with a male guitar player, female singer, and male noise maker. I really don’t know how else to label him; he had a collection of noise makers that he played. The singer’s voice was surprisingly powerful as she casually sat and sang. The songs were essentially folk songs in a variety of languages.
Then an intriguing duo performed beat poet type of songs. The female sang in English, German, and French—the pronunciation of each language was pleasant and authentic sounding. It was fascinating how confidently and with such skill she also played a rather large saw.
The final musical act consisted of one male vocalist. As he sang, I looked around to see how everyone else was reacting. They were simply listening intently and nodding their heads. The performer was singing in the style of a ridiculous Saturday Night Live skit. For real. I kid you not. He sang with such volume as he dragged his voice around a variety of pitches in an assortment of languages. Though I was tempted, I didn’t embarrass myself and laugh, not in a making fun kind of way, but in a “Wow, so cool that he’s having so much fun!” kind of way. There was something so absolutely freeing about his musical performance. I think the applause he received was even louder than that for two the previous acts.
One of the women who’d been tending bar came out to casually say that the evening’s entertainment would continue now and then. There appeared to be no set schedule, and it was also fairly evident that it was going to be a long night.
Next followed an assortment of theatrical performances. They consisted of two to three people who gathered at the far end of the wide hallway and simply did things like peel a banana, eat it, and sit in a chair.
Okay, that was interesting.
I went back into the other room and visited with a variety of people from Berlin and Barcelona. Nice. We talked about a wide range of topics including the cool restaurant/bar close to a Spanish couple’s home. Even though they can speak no German, they love how friendly they’re treated by the locals since they live in the “hood.” Again, nice.
Suddenly the crowd of people came back into this projector/video watching/musical stage room. A small man leapt onto the stage waving a stack of papers. “Volunteers! I need volunteers!” he called out.
Being a former Tennessean*vi and simply sj, I raised my hand. What followed was a rather disjointed performance by the 4 participants who read the dialogue provided. I was Frau Schmidt. I think it was supposed to be funny, but perhaps there were just too many foreigners there (like me) for it to be a success. Regardless, the audience politely clapped when we finished.
And what was the gist of the skit? Well, this one woman was waiting in the wings. My character repeatedly said, “No one’s there.” After the third or fourth time of saying that, someone was suddenly there.
Yeah, I didn’t get it either; the Germans in the room appeared to laugh.
And on this rather anti-climactic note, the Widersprüchlihe Abend ended for me. It was around 1 a.m., and I’d had the experience I wanted—to be in the midst of an “underground” community of artists in a graffiti filled building. That’s Berlin. : )
And what’s on the program for tonight? I’m going to see “Die Impro-Ladies.” Just today I found this site: http://www.buehnenrausch.de/spielplan_februar.html. (Eine Bühne is a stage.)
As I watch the snow continue to fall, the question remains: shall I go there by bike?
Until next time.
-S j
* This is one of the weird things that happens when one immerses oneself in a language; words in the Muttersprache or another Sprache often fall to the wayside. Scaffolding! It just came to me; that was the word that I was searching for in this brain of mine. And in that same vein, I initially typed, “to the wasteside.” Sounded right to me.  : )
** Senfeier is a typical German dish that Tony and I had often seen advertised on restaurant boards while we were previously in Berlin; we had even bought a can of it that we lugged with us in our luggage. The helpful grocery store clerk had seemed a bit amused when we asked on which aisle it was; apparently it’s the kind of dish that’s commonly made at home from scratch. She seemed genuinely surprised that the store where she worked sold it in a can. The can version of Senfeier (mustard eggs) was okay, but nothing to get excited about. I figured the real deal from a restaurant would surely be better; it was.
*** Ja, our conversation was completely in German.
*iv Somehow I’d missed this English language phenomena, which had taken place over the past 20-plus years while my nose had been buried in the world of video and deadlines and learn-this-technical-something and that-technical-something, and this, and that, and how about this, and now it’s time for that. I’d first noticed how English dominates the world while in Asia last year. Where had I been? I thought. Under a spell, was my own inner voice’s reply. But now “awake” I’m slowly “catching up” to this modern new world, happily choosing to ignore parts of it that don’t interest me in the least. : )
*v It was called SPECTRAL.
*vi Tennessee was named the “volunteer” state because a record number of people volunteered to fight in both the War of 1812 and the Mexican War.
Homestay and trek north of Chiang Mai, Thailand

July in October (i.e. a return to Thailand)

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Hi Everyone,

You take a step back and then two forward . . .

I dug through my backup hard drive to find some shots from the three day/two night trek I took in July north of Chiang Mai, Thailand.

We were a group of twelve from all over the world: Spain, Denmark, Taiwan, France, and the U.S.

Enjoy!

Taken in the hangout area at the first of the two “homestays.”
The john.
Flushing system.
We 12 shared this large room.
It turned rainy.
! ! !
Stopped for a chat.
With this wonderful weaver.
And her friend.
Stopped by a school.
And a village.
Walked through rice paddies.
Swam in mountain pools.
Drank Chang and listened to the local musician (singular).
Breakfast.
I bought a few things from her.
Part of what we saw along the way.
The gang.
The 3 fun Spaniards.
Rode on an elephant; it wasn’t nearly as nice as in Laos. This guy was hungry! And they wouldn’t let him eat.
The last part of the trip was floating downstream on a bamboo raft; this group had WAY more fun than my group! We were much too calm and tranquil. : )

Off to a yoga retreat for my last 2-nights in Thailand and SE Asia.

Aloha,
-sj

Hoi An . . . in the top three

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Hi Everyone,

This lovely town on the coast of Vietnam (and about a 45-minute drive south of Da Nang) is a shopper’s paradise. Yes, a shopper’s paradise. “Isn’t practically all of SE Asia a shopper’s paradise?” you ask.

Well, yes it is! For most travelers. Though there is so much more to do than just shop.

But this particular town is known for its vast collection of tailors. Yes, tailors. People from all over the world were having custom clothing made: suits, dresses, skirts, shoes, etc. (Yes, even shoes!)

But for moi, I just didn’t feel like having anything custom-made. I’m nearly at the end of my 5-month journey in SE Asia, and I have plenty of souvenirs already. And I have plenty of clothing.

Also, I think that’s an activity that would be more fun to do with a friend (yes, Mom, I agree with you on this one : ).

So what did I do?

I walked around the quaint town in the evening. (It became much more interesting when the sun began to set.)

It was pouring and pouring on my first full-day there; so I hung out in my comfy room and got caught up on things. AND I swam in that fabulous pool. Fortunately, it wasn’t thundering and lightning (like it is now in Bangkok where I’m currently sitting and typing).

When I got hungry, I walked a short distance and found a cozy restaurant with a nice mix of decor (honestly, it felt more European than Asian) where I broke my no-chicken eating and had Pho with da kine (noodle soup). It was the perfect dish for a cool, wet day.

And the second day? The sun was shinning, so I rented a bike and found the beach (and even got a little sun burned on my shoulders : ).

For enjoying Hoi An as much as I did, I took very few pictures (another sign that this leg of my journey is winding down).

So, without further ado . . .

Enjoy!

These are some of the most unusual boats I’ve ever seen! They reminded me of big rice cups. And yes, I helped carry the second one up the beach.
What’s that for ???
Right in town was a rice paddy.
A sample of the clothing that one can have made in Hoi An.

And oh, I forgot to mention, I just happened to be in Hoi An on the one day of the month when they hang lanterns everywhere (and coincidentally, the last night of my solo journey before joining my friend in Bangkok) in honor of the full moon which appears the following night. I left my room a little before sunset to walk around town. Along the way, I saw vendor after vendor setting up a personal altar in front of their shop. Soon, women were selling small lanterns to the tourists, as well as cooking potato, banana, coconut things. (I  tried part of one; it was okay, a bit bland.)

When the activity seemed to be at its peak, I parked myself at a table for one, ordered fried noodles and veggies and a glass of the local merlotish red wine, and enjoyed the show! “Perfect!” I thought as I sat and sipped . . . “Perfect. Thank you Hoi An. Thank you . . .”

-sj

Hue, Vietnam, pronounced like curds and . . .

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From Ha Noi I flew to Hue. It’s a small town a bit north of Danang (which was an important in the Vietnam, or American, war).

Stayed there 2-nights, and this is what I saw/did . . .

Taken from a boat.
This boat. The lady came running beside me, “Come on boat; come on boat. Only . . .”(about $5) But I’m hungry and am going to eat. “I can cook for you.” For the same price? “Yes.” Talk about feeling like a cheap American! But you (I) never know what’s a fair price for them and what’s a rip-off for a tourist (me). I hopped on the boat; they immediately drove the boat to the other shore (so that she could go to the market for food.)
Their son.
The grinds. Noodles with morning glory (greens). And an omelette with onion. Not too bad. I was hungry.
The next morning I rented a bike and took off to find a place for breakfast. But first, I was led down an alleyway to where I found a “locals only” café. On the river. With HBO on the muted television and jazz on the sound system. “Nice,” I thought. I had a deep rich coffee with thick condensed milk (for a fraction of what it was in the restaurants for westerners). And, I had conversation. Lots of it. With these two girls. When I could tell that they were dying to speak English with me, I invited them to join me at the table. Occasionally they had to hop up to work, but soon they’d plop back down for a bit more of this and that. Who are they? They’re both 21-year old university students studying agriculture. We exchanged emails . . .
And after breakfast it was time to head off and find the pagoda which was about 3 km away from the town’s main attraction: a citadel.
But first, a stop at the local grocery store.
Talk about a large selection of rice cookers!
You can read about this car . . .
“Why in the heck did you take a picture of this toilet, SJ? And why include it in your glob?” Notice the shoe prints? Yes, someone stood on it and then used it . . . There are stand-on types of toilets in SE Asia that are raised to about the same height as our sit-on® type . . . reckon the last user preferred to stand. Much more sanitary, don’t you think?
The monks don’t appear to wear saffron robes in Vietnam. They were moving stacks of wood from the back of the truck onto the other side of the fence.
This looks a lot like the boat I took a ride on the afternoon before.
School kids’ bikes.
Having a PE class of some type. “HI!!!” they were waving.
And now to the main attraction in the town of Hue.
It felt a bit like an Angkorwatwannabe.
The costume storage room.
Hey, what’s he doing here?
Back to the lovely hotel room to find the next place to rest my head (was looking for a place in Hoi An with a pool . . . my budget? $30 and below, found one for exactly $30). How much did the room in Hue cost? $15. That’s with air con, a TV, and a private balcony. The one I’d originally booked was $12; I figured it was worth 6 bucks extra to have a lanai for 2-nights. : )
Oh, what a wonderful dinner it was! I’d read about this restaurant in my Lonely Planet guide book, and then I just happened to pass it . . . and when I was hungry and looking for a restaurant!
The restaurant staff was watching Vietnam Idol.
Time to leave some more things behind. First, my skirt (the one I was wearing when I was riding the elephant, I just couldn’t stand to wear it one moment longer). It’s somewhere in Laos. Second, my purple purse. It’s somewhere in Northern Vietnam. Remember? I gave it to the little girl I bought my new purse from. Next, these two shirts. May they continue to have exciting journeys as they venture forth into their brave new world. (Yes, I agree, rather dramatic for a couple of well worn shirts!)
We were the first picked up for the four hour and four dollar bus ride to Hoi An. We chose the front seat, plenty of room to keep all my bags with me. “Brave to ride up there!” an Irish woman who’s lived in Australia for 10-years said to me. “Why?” I asked. “You’ve seen how they drive here!” “But it’s not as bad as in Cambodia,” her husband added. And I agreed, the bus driving was a bit (a bit) more mellow that what I’d experienced in Cambodia.
Leftovers. Made a perfect breakfast!
Stopping for road work.
We had a 30-minute break mid-way.
Happy Feet. Happy Bat Angel. Its first time on the beach!

It was a lovely 2-nights in Hue. Next came another of my favorite SE Asia towns . . .

Catch you soon on SJ’s bat angel channel.

aloha,

-sj